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kroashent · 1 year

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Val-Cula Daily - May 8

Val's random thoughts as she revisits Dracula Daily (An excellent choice if you missed it the first time around). Today, things start to take a turn.

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Up until this point, Jonathan's interest in his trip has been that of an engaged traveler, picking up recipes and learning about local customs. By May 8th though, the unsettling nature of Dracula's castle starts to get to him. Since he arrived, he's not seen a single servant or other guest, only the Count himself, with whom he has a startling encounter that sets him on edge.

Jonathan has previously remarked on the castles lack of mirrors, more out of annoyance and inconvenience than anything else, but has a small shaving mirror in his travel kit. Its here we see...

VAMPIRE POWER #2: No Reflection in mirrors. Vampires get a wide array of powers before and after Dracula was published, but Dracula codified a lot of these into a fairly well-defined package. This is technically the second power we see (More on that later), but its become a classic and a staple of the vampiric powerset. I'll try to highlight each time we get a new Vampire power or weakness, and compare those to what have survived in the general "idea" of a vampire.

Jonathan is understandably surprised and cuts himself, which leads to...

VAMPIRE WEAKNESS #1!

Dracula is incredibly casual in his approach to Jonathan, but the small trickle of blood sets him off. In a single moment, his careful, crimeboss level planning is thrown away and he moves to attack in pure bloodlust. He reaches out to grab Jonathan by the neck and...

VAMPIRE WEAKNESS #2!

Earlier, Jonathan was given a crucifix by a local, and, made some commentary about the symbol's Catholic origins in opposition to his own Anglican sensibilities. It was an interesting aside that the crucifix, beyond a simple cross, holds some bane for the vampire. Sometimes, crosses as shown to repel the undead, but for the powerful count, direct contact merely drives back his bloodlust. There's been a lot of takes on this, and what it means. Is it a sign of faith of the user, or is the symbol itself the power here? As if anticipating this question, even Jonathan himself, a self-avowed Anglican, remarks on the interesting wrinkle of a Catholic symbol used by a protestant here. Its also cool that the characters work out the lore of their story as the reader does.

Bless that good, good woman who hung the crucifix round my neck! for it is a comfort and a strength to me whenever I touch it. It is odd that a thing which I have been taught to regard with disfavour and as idolatrous should in a time of loneliness and trouble be of help. Is it that there is something in the essence of the thing itself, or that it is a medium, a tangible help, in conveying memories of sympathy and comfort? Some time, if it may be, I must examine this matter and try to make up my mind about it.

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Dracula then casually tosses the mirror out the window. I really like how he passes off the near-attack and literally just throws his lawyer's mirror out the window, then continues with a friendly tone as he wanders off. Its a very odd exchange, leaving Jonathan's first reaction to again be one of inconvenience.

"Take care," he said, "take care how you cut yourself. It is more dangerous than you think in this country." Then seizing the shaving glass, he went on: "And this is the wretched thing that has done the mischief. It is a foul bauble of man's vanity. Away with it!" and opening the heavy window with one wrench of his terrible hand, he flung out the glass, which was shattered into a thousand pieces on the stones of the courtyard far below. Then he withdrew without a word. It is very annoying, for I do not see how I am to shave, unless in my watch-case or the bottom of the shaving-pot, which is fortunately of metal.

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Jonathan's unease grows as he dines and admires the view, noting that 1) he has never actually seen his host eat and 2) almost all the doors in the castle are locked. He comes to the realization of just how dire his situation has become.

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Jonathan also confirms his suspicions with the complete lack of servants. We get the amusing image of Dracula making his guest's bed, and a remark about the state of some of the door hardware, as Dracula still has to physically upkeep the castle. I really love the image of Dracula performing all of these household tasks.

"Bleh! I cannot hunt tonight! It is... laundry day!"

Jonathan also figures out that the "driver" was Dracula himself, in disguise. It gives me the unintentional image of Dracula running around like one of the shopkeepers in Avatar: The Last Airbender, changing hats to convince Jonathan he had a staff. I think Stoker dropped the ball here, not giving us a cavalcade of "maid dracula", "cook dracula" and "Gardener-Dracula", running around through secret passages as his guest moves through the castle.

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Jonathan decides it is time for... SPY JONATHAN, a gambit to get Dracula to reveal more about himself without raising suspicions, but maintaining the cordial pantomime both parties are now aware off. It isn't hard to convince the count to launch into a long, nationalistic speech about the history of the Transylvanian people. Its very interesting, and again, cements the Count within a larger context. There's quite a lot in there, references of both of historical and folkloric value, but its best just read in its entirety. There's a real cultural identity and pride in the Count's recounting. One thing I dislike in Vampire fiction is how "detached" Vampires are portrayed to human society, how the greatest civilizations are nothing to them. Dracula has that arrogance as well, but not the detachment. He dismisses (specifically) the Hapsburgs and Romanoffs compared to the name Dracula, but also, more tellingly, to the Szekely people of Romania, who he identifies with. He knows and acknowledges the empires and history around him. He's a part of their history, not beyond it and its makes for a much more intriguing character.

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I also like how Jonathan signs off the day's events:

It was by this time close on morning, and we went to bed. (Mem., this diary seems horribly like the beginning of the "Arabian Nights," for everything has to break off at cockcrow—or like the ghost of Hamlet's father.)

#Dracula Daily #Vampire #Dracula

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zozo-01 · 1 year

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💕💕 self-love time! talk about which ones of YOUR creations (edits, artworks, fanfics) you like the most then send to other creators to do the same 💕💕

ahhhhhh, gingerrrr!!! thank you, thank you for this ask!!! i shall try to provide interesting commentary, but alas, w o r d s T-T

in honour of the quinn trilogyyy, why not bring back my quinn and darlin' fic??? well too bad, that's what we're talking about!!! You and Me, For Old Times Sake?

this fic was written shortly after sam's 2022 hbs video, where he mentions prepping skyside for the monarchal summit. as the fandom does, they all decided that quinn would crash it, and instead of rolling my eyes, i said, "wait, hold on. you're actually onto something." a conversation with @softredrobin and their gorgeous artwork later, boom!!! we got quinn and darlin' having their lovers to enemies moment.

of course, my version of quinn in this story is different than canon! quinn. for starters, my quinn genuinely loved darlin' at one point, all be it obsessively. he just wants them to be his and is willing to do everything to remind them who they belong too. he's only violent when darlin' challenges that notion of who "owns" them. we also don't know enough about canon! quinn to see if he loved darlin' or loved the idea of them.

anyone who knows about my darlin' characterization knows that i think of them as a bleeding heart. they hate quinn for what he's done to others, but they can't help but remember the good times once in a while. so when they dance with him, they can't help but try to see the good in him, in hopes that he's changed for the better. if they have to kill him, they will, but that doesn't mean they want to.

it also highlights darlin's habit of tanking (ha, see what i did there?) any kind of discomfort they may face. especially if it means protecting someone they love. "If they let his hands on their body, he won’t be close to Sam." in my mind, darlin' would do anything to have the attention on them and deal with those consequences alone, i.e. dancing with quinn so he doesn't focus on anyone else, until someone notices.

the hardest part of this fic was probably finding a balance between "darlin' reminiscing about the good times" and "darlin' still being in love with quinn". i think it really helped to start with darlin' hating quinn how they were thinking about all the ways they could kill him. (remember, this was back in july 2022 when none of us knew if the quinn plot would be brought back.) but again, darlin's a softie underneath the violence forced on them.

in terms of darlin' POV, me saying that they couldn't let go of quinn was more them wishing things they could have fixed their ending. i've mention that i write darlin's character as a south asian woman, meaning their outlook on life reflects on what south asian woman are taught.

one key and toxic idea that many of us are taught that it's our job to fix others issues. typical "elder daughter trauma" stuff. this includes blaming ourselves for toxic relationships and having things end badly. darlin' has spent countless nights combing through the last few days with quinn and wondering if they said something differently, it wouldn't be like this. of course, none of it was their fault, but at this time, they were pretty early in their healing era.

then we get to the end of the dance, where quinn zips off to do his own thing. (stalking darlin' even longer.) almost immediately, darlin runs back to see sam, which is kind of a growth moment for them. in the past, darlin' in these situations would have run off somewhere and self destruct on their own. but now, they have and can rely on sam being there for the. besides, i can't help but not bring back my favourite southern man, hehe.

the ending ending was a last minute decision to include. for most of this fic, we only see darlin's POV and feelings about quinn, but the final lines were kinda my way to give a lil insight on the other side. in my mind (at this time at least), quinn does love darlin', but is so wrapped up in creating his perfect world (one where they are by his side) that he's willing to hurt them to keep them obedient. he acknowledges he fucked up, but he doesn't care, he just wants them.

i was originally going to make a part two of this fic where we see quinn's POV, but alas, tis was never meant to beee.

as always, i always have to slip in darlin' with a city accent. <333 "‘I swear I’ve seen this man before. Fuck, he don’t look like he’s clan but still…’" honestly, writing city accents are the hardest thing because a) in terms of writing, it can easily be mistaken for a southern accent and b) writing a city accent out can seem awkward and stilted, these are phrases that are only said for a reason.

anywho, once againnn, thank you thank you for your ask ginger!!!!!

#hindsight i should have talked about alexis or king sam because i have more interesting commentary about that #but!!!! i do love me a throw backkkk #ginger ♥️#zo answerin asks <3 #this is zo speaking

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popmusicu · 1 year

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A rant about politics how music makes us reflect of life, and one of my favorite albums.

Politics and rap music have been an important part of my life througout it, and rap duo Run the Jewels formed by el-P and Killer Mike is one of my favorite group of performers out of all of them, and their last album RTJ4 is in my opinion the finest of their work but rather than talking about its musical content itself, I would like to talk about the ideologic and political message it posseses.

RTJ4 is a sonically abrasive album, that assaults you sonically with powerful and wacky beats that mirror its content, but uses rather weird adlibs and samples that are similar to the delivery of said message. What I mean by this is the classic style of RTJ, they like to tackle rather hard and difficult topics but in a comedic way, not taking themselves seriusly but recognizing the seriusnes of what they are talking about, making their message easier to digest and more palatable for audiences that do not want to hear a lot about the harsh state of things.

The way the album is structured is also an interesting thing, it is a concept album that uses the framing devise of a made up TV show called "Yankee and the Brave" to tell its story, this show being about a couple of small time criminals that get framed by corrupt autorities for a big and violent heist so they have to go on the run, all of the song on the albums are being told on the perspective of these two characters (embodied by el-P and Killer Mike) in the context of only one episode of this show (this small detail being really relevant for the overall context of the album).

The album talks about a lot of hard hitting themes but the most poignant of them are opression and repression and their many forms, being religious, economic,political, social or in any case they may present, the duo makes a strong case for freedom that ranges from a funny quip about the mother of one of the characters not letting them go outside and an almost anarchist manifesto, the ideas presented from the start of the episode to the end of the same.

Some of the most hard hitting and important songs that serve to push the message are, "Walking in the Snow": Basically a call to arm, the song being about a scape (through the snow) of the two characters, talks about a conversation between the two of them, it likes to talk about lies, talking about how its easier to beleave self affirming lies than to admit hard truths it makes a beautiful critique to society with quotes like:

"Funny fact about a cage, they're never built for just one group So when that cage is done with them and you're still poor, it come for you The newest lowest on the totem, well golly gee, you have been used You helped to fuel the death machine that down the line will kill you too"

talking abut how the grip of fascism takes hold or,

"All of us serve the same masters, all of us nothin' but slaves Never forget in the story of Jesus, the hero was killed by the state"

making sharp remarks of institutionalized religion, and how in the mind of Killer Mike it on itself is anathema to Christianity.

"JU$T": with a stellar feature of Rage Against the Machine Zack De la Rocha, this song is a strong critique of neoliberal capitalism and the obsessiveness over capital it causes, making remarks on how we believe ourselves to be masters of many thing just because we´ve been told so, even going further with lines such as:

"Look at all these slave masters Posin' on yo' dolla"

Making a commentary on the idol culture of people of the past that while products of their time are not to be excused of their misdeeds.

"Pulling the Pin": This song explores the consequences of war and imperialism, delving into the human cost of conflicts. It critiques the military-industrial complex and questions the motives behind the perpetuation of warfare

"Holy Calamafuck": This track addresses media manipulation and misinformation, highlighting the role of the media in shaping public perception and perpetuating societal divisions. It challenges the mainstream narrative and encourages critical thinking

And the (in my opinion) best and important song in the abum "last words to the fire squad" the closing track on the album, the song is also the finale of the episode, with our heroes being bound and about to be executed they bare their harts, and the line between the characters and the songwritters blur, talking about their personal lives and experieces, and saying their final goodbyes to loved ones and sending their final curses to their enemies, from start to finish the delivery of the song is diferent, serius and without the jokes the group is acustomed to, the production also a more traditional (while no less intrincate) hip hop sound to signalize the truthfullnes of the transpiring song, riddled with metaphores and full on confessions of their feelings and strong lines, for me the strongest of them:

"This is for the do-gooders that the no-gooders used and then abused For the truth tellers tied to the Whippin' post, left beaten, battered, bruised For the ones whose body hung from a tree like a piece of strange fruit Go hard, last words to the firing squad was, "fuck you too""

This line being the last of the album symbolizing the mesage of the last song and the album as a whole, while the world is terrible and a hard place the ones to blame are not the abused but the abusers and those who help to uphold their rotten ideals, the fire squad being a metaphore along the full album an this track of those who while not makin the decision follow them and do knowing harm to their fellow humans, the duo ends this album on a literal bang after this line, with an outro explaining that the two outlaws escaped to live and fight another day, as we said at the start, this was just another episode, and while the might not have yet won, they for sure have not lost, and for long as they keep alive they can keep fighting as they should.

Christoher Galo

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unma · 12 days

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I didn't think I was going to write a full on essay about Papyrus and this was just going to be a minor thought but it spiralled into a long ass ramble so uh I'm giving it a title.

Papyrus Genocide Route AUs

(or: why the fuck does no one who does this shit actually spend the time to consider how these actions reflect on Papyrus's character and instead make him flip between happy torturer that isn't actually Papyrus and the forgiving Papyrus with any lack of nuance whatsoever?)

Watching a fan genocide au animation and I'm once again presented with the hallmarks of Undertale bad writing™️ but I do like the way these scenarios provoke thought about what the characters would do. I'm still of the opinion that Disbelief Papyrus is still a rather faithful if rough around the edges portrayal of his character, but I don't see many fan animations of Disbelief really acknowledge all the reluctance that simmers within Papyrus during the entire fight, such that the only reason you win is that he simply cannot ignore that side of him who still wants to forgive you.

He knows you killed everyone. He knows he is the final step and that you likely won't change. But it's only a 'likely', and that 0.001% chance is still enough for him to want to let you try regardless. The battle ending on the note of forgiveness and second chances is perfect, because really, how else would it end? Papyrus is too kind and too competent for it to end in you overcoming him after a mountain of reloads. His death was always going to be a betrayal kill.

On that note, Dustbelief Papyrus's methodical nature in forcing you to quit highlighting that he is just as knowledgeable as Sans about what the best option for winning is and is even more competent at performing that simple act is imo still a good portrayal of him. This is a Papyrus who has to wrestle with the actions he's committed, which while started by pure accident, has made killing a viable option of achieving this now that LV ensures he has lesser reservations about killing. The human can still change, they just have to be forced into it, and what else is a more effective method than punishment?

(There are issues with how the very nature of magic working on intent and Sans's theoretical 1 hp inevitably being increased by all the lv he gains, but I'm a Dusttale fan and never bothered criticizing the original premise of the AU despite just how out of character it is and how much build up and slow change that would be necessary that is missing from most depictions of the AU so really why should I care. These are superficial issues at best, really anything can change once you are burdened with the knowledge of being in a timeloop where your actions mean absolutely nothing and you watch everyone you love die, so like what justification do you need there?)

I don't recall if Dustbelief!Papyrus's battle ends on a note of him returning to his old self, but I believe that to be rather impossible. Both brothers has the (vaguely possibly real?) phantoms of the other influencing their action, and I find it very hard to believe that the part of Papyrus who considers leaving himself vulnerable would be able to break up to the surface with a Ghost Sans there to remind him how he's done that before and it was a very bad idea. He knows you'll never truly die, so why even have any reservations about killing you? For you, death is a minor inconvenience. For him, it's at best a major setback and at worst the end of his very existence. The end of everything and everyone as well. Another loop ended, another to begin. If he loses here, what's to say the coincidences necessary will happen this time? What's to say even if they do he won't just forget and end up the same way? There is no guaranteed second chance for him, and Papyrus is competent enough to not even let the chance occur.

I have a major hang up with the possibility of the human actually winning in a Dust route, given the mechanics of the game. I always thought the original ending to Dusttale (the game) having Sans abruptly die was dumb and illogical, but at least the human had the luxury of some kill stealing here. Even with the comic incomplete (though it's actually recently received updates and if this is the first you've heard of it you should check it out), it's clear that Papyrus is ruthlessly efficient and even exploits the human's ability to load to trap and mess with them, so at best for the human they get there with a bit of LV. At worst they get absolutely none. If Sans was so good at eating up all the kills, Papyrus is absolutely cracked at it. And given how I've explained that Papyrus isn't going to give himself up to be killed, I see legit no way Papyrus loses other than a human with no-hitting levels of skill like Merg or Shayy or something. (Is Shayy a no-hitter? Idk I never watched much of their videos. Hell I don't even know their pronouns it's that bad. It's 12:30am and I have a love-hate relationship with Opera as I slowly make the switch to Firefox so crucify me but I don't have the energy to look that up rn and deal with my cruel treatment of Opera resulting in it's absurd ram usage. Why am I on this tangent again? I swear never let me write these things.)

Anyway if game development wasn't a major pain in the neck and I had a family who wouldn't probably make my life more of a hell if I showed them that I probably have ADHD and need meds and not the power of Jesus fucking Christ and I had more time to do this stuff I'd make a fangame and post it and get some criticism to try and encourage more thought provoking analysis of Papyrus through alternate genocide routs but the former of those is unlikely for the near future (and even once I move out I don't want to imagine what it would cost to live and get meds, I think I'd rather just keel over than deal with all that stress) so instead I'm making very obviously ADHD induced rants about this while I sit halfway through a disbelief x last breath fan animation at fucking half past 12 while procrastinating replying to a dm and actually writing the fic I'm very excited to write but can't be bothered to write and huh I'm starting to think that I'm probably not wrong that I might have ADHD huh. What was this post about again?

This can't even be called a proper essay anymore. sorry about that. If you enjoyed my Papyrus ramblings please ignore the rest and simply tell me your thoughts. Even if you think I'm wrong I wanna hear why you think so and talk about it because I need to know more about Papyrus so I can write about him with confidence please I love this boy so much. He can fit so much nuance in that lovely skull of his. It's a shame his brother stole permanent residence in my brain where he would be.

#unma rambles #papyurs #long post #brb gotta change my tags to account for long ass essays like this #undertale #genocide route #please ignore the end I'm too tired to edit it and put too much effort into it to delete this post #I promise I usually make these long posts while more normal I swear #also wow didn't expect my frans blog to be a place where I go deeply in depth about these characters that are stuck in my brain but oh well

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beigehearts · 3 years

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Multiple requests are fine! Requests are unlimited.

This is a cool idea so hell yeah

Yandere Adult Trio finding you after a few years after escape CW: physical abuse, mentions of kidnapping, blood, needles

Hisoka

This is rather nice actually. A quiet life in the middle of nowhere where no one questions you. It’s somewhat of a farming community you live in. You work at a farmers market, selling fresh fruits and vegetables to the same people every day. Everyone here recognizes you under your fake identity, and treats you as part of the community. As if you didn’t randomly appear one day. As if you aren’t in hiding.

It’s been about three years you would say. Three years since you escaped... him. You dyed your hair, wore colored contacts and completely changed your clothing look. You moved countries, learned a new language, and completely dropped your entire identity and life. It was the only way you could escape him. How you escaped him remains a mystery to you too. He was always attentive but- you escaped that last time. Slipped through his fingers.

Mr. Grady, the oldest farmer in town hobbles over to your stand and smiles with his big loose mouth. He only has a few teeth but you don’t need many when you blend all of your food anyway.

“Oh hello Charlie. How are you today?” He asks with his frail old man voice.

You smile back and begin bagging up the usual for him. “Very good Mr. Grady. How are you?”

Your conversations are never short but it’s almost become a highlight of your day to hear the old man ramble. “Oh you know. The sheep dog are sick, so I tried rounding those cows up with my cat. He practically got trampled!” He throws his arms up as if it’s unbelievable. You somewhat listen as he continues. “... moral of the story is, cats are unreliable and only have two lives.”

As you hand the paper bag over the counter the old man stops to think for a moment. “I saw someone new up by the shops today, he was a real character. Quite tall too.”

You nod and get the change for the money he hands you, “Oh really? Did you talk to him?”

“He wasn’t much interested in me. Though he didn’t seem like a normal traveler. He was much too eccentric for that.” He offers one last toothless smile, “Don’t work too late. It’s time for the foxbears to come out of hibernation soon.”

Before you can further question him, he hobbles off pretty quickly for an old man. Of course you’re overreacting but someone eccentric and tall randomly coming to town? No it couldn’t be. It’s been over three years since then. And he wouldn’t go this far for you would he?

After closing up the shop you grab the keys to your car and head for the ‘parking lot’. It’s a field with white lines spray painted on the grass with a single light to illuminate the whole place. You hop into your car and are just glad to finally go home after a long day. It was rather slow but that’s because it was a tuesday. It is very busy on friday-monday. You start your car, and turn on the air, you plug your phone in and relax some into your seat.

You adjust your rear view mirror and scream when you do. You just barely catch the reflection of someone in the back of your car. He’s sitting in the back seat watching you closely. You decide against turning around to face him.

“Hello y/n. Or is it Charlie?” He asks calmly, as if it were a casual conversation.

You clear your throat and try to control your shaking. “What are you doing here Hisoka?”

He ignores your question completely. “You really know how to choose a nice town. Quiet, friendly, off the grid.”

“I suppose.” Your hands grip on the steering wheel tightens. “How did you find me?”

“Oh, well, it was quite hard really. You did a good job. But once I found the first person who helped you change your identity, it was just a matter of going down the chain.”

You’d rather not think about what happened to those people. “And what are you doing here?” You repeat your question.

“Well there’s only one thing I’m here for of course.” He leans back in the seat, just barely having enough room for his legs. “I’ve come to bring you home.”

“I don’t want to. It’s nice here.” You state as if you have an option.

He leans forward this time, and cranes his head around the drivers seat to whisper in your ear, “It’s really not up to you pet.”

Before you can even react, there’s a rope around your neck, and he’s pulling you hard against your seat. You claw at the rope and gasp for air. You try to turn some but the rope burn hurts too much. You manage to get your fingers under the rope around your neck, and throw yourself forward.

His head smacks the back of your seat but your head smacks the wheel, honking the horn. There’s no doubt that you’re bleeding. You throw the rope over your head and jump out of the car, and run. But he’s much faster.

He jumps out of the car and before you know it, he grabs the back of your shirt, pulling you to him. He holds you against himself with his arms, leaving no room for escape. But you have one more trick up your sleeve. You throw your head back as hard you can and headbutt his face. There’s a loud crack that you can only assume is his nose.

He groans and his nails dig into your skin through your clothes. “You really got feisty while I was away.” His nails begin to pierce your skin, ripping through the cloth of your shirt. “But it’s no matter, it only turns me on more.”

Illumi

To say you’re on the run is an understatement. You’re practically sprinting away even all these years later. You know that if you stop for even a few days that he would find you. You spend no more than three days at a time in the same place. You’ve travelled half of the world by now- and quite honestly it has been somewhat nice. Not just the freedom from the suffocating grasp of your captor Illumi, but being able to see the world. You would never have done this if not for the situation you were in. Maybe things happen for a reason.

It feels like forever since you’ve been travelling. But the reality is that it’s only been two years. Two long years of not stopping. You have a new name and often go days without eating. It’s not easy getting money when you aren’t in the same area for long.

It was late night when you escaped from him. He never let his guard down so you just had to go for it. He wasn’t expecting you to make a mad dash out of the manor, and hide out in the woods for a few days. Slowly but surely you managed to get out of the mountain prison, leaving through the small door next to the office. The man working at the entrance was sipping tea and reading the newspaper when you left much too busy to pay attention to you. You’re more than sure he was punished for missing you leaving. But sometimes you wonder if he chose to ignore you on purpose, and let you escape.

It’s a beautiful morning. You slept on a few blankets and a sweatshirt as a pillow on the ground of a cave. It was hard to get any sleep at first but you managed to get used to the back pain. The sun is shining through the canopy, streams of light illuminating the cave. The grass outside of the cave is wet with dew droplets. It’s only slightly humid but the breeze with the warm weather is heavenly. It’s not every day you get good weather like this.

You sit up and stretch your arms in the air, yawning tiredly. Your usual morning routine was to get a fire started, and put the tiny kettle above it. In your small backpack you have a few essential items. Coffee being one of them. You get out your tin can after jimmying a fire and filling the kettle with water from a nearby stream. You drop some instant coffee grounds in the kettle and bask in the aroma of coffee.

You pour yourself a cup and put some powdered milk packets and splenda in the cup, stirring it with a stick that looked relatively... clean. But you had a feeling that today was the day. You weren’t sure why this morning you knew he would find you. But you did. Almost on cue, you hear footsteps approach behind you.

You bring the tin cup to your lips, taking a long sip of the hot coffee.

“So this is where you’ve been.” You don’t even flinch at his words. You knew this was inevitable.

The coffee burns your tongue. “Yes, I must have stayed here for a day too long. Don’t you agree Illumi?”

“Yes. It was quite stupid.” There’s a silence between the two of you. You continue sitting on the ground with your back facing him. “Are you ready to leave?” He asks as if he’s picking you up from and elementary sleep over.

“May I finish my coffee first?”

“I suppose.” Though he doesn’t move from his spot, his gaze staying firm on your back.

Luckily you haven’t spent all this time just running, but training. In self defense to be specific.

Quickly you jump up and turn around, you move your arm to throw the coffee on him in hopes of burning him. He grabs your wrist, but the coffee does land on his forearm. You bring your leg up to kick him in the side but he grabs it right as you make contact. The only hit you actually manage to land is when you throw a punch with your free hand at his throat. If it were anyone else they would be stunned for at least a few seconds. But this wasn’t anyone. He shows no sign of flinching.

“Are you ready now?” He asks.

You allow your body to relax and he lets go of your limbs. “Go ahead, put a needle in me.”

He doesn’t argue with your point, pressing a needle to your chest and the last thing you hear is “Don’t fight it.”

Chrollo

The very thought that all of these people by his side had no qualms about you being kidnapped makes you sick. All of them had many chances to set you free and yet they stayed loyal to your captor, as if this were normal and okay. So many people witnessing this unhealthy obsession and not even muttering a word about it. Honestly you find it more ridiculous than you do sad. How did he have all these people under his thumb? Was he really just that powerful?

Wherever he went, you went. One day he had what they called, ‘a mission.” You had caught a cargo train out west and jumped on, as stowaways. It’s not as if anyone checked each boxcar. All of you had fallen asleep in the small space of the boxcar. The train was at full speed, with no sign of stopping anytime soon. Cargo trains were much faster than you anticipated. Once you were sure everyone was asleep, you stood up casually as if you were just stretching. In case someone woke up. Which they did. Nobunaga peeled his eyes open and examined you. But he was too slow, you leaped out of the car before anyone could grab you. You went tumbling through a field after hitting your head very hard against the ground. It wasn’t the perfect escape but it was an escape.

After that you found a nearby farm, and while it was still night you stole a horse from a barn. You rode for many miles, until days later you found a very busy city. Somehow you managed to make a life for yourself, becoming a low grade secretary.

Today was a slow day, your employer did not have many clients today. You checked in on your boss to see if she needed anything but she waved you away. You decided to play solitaire on the computer, a perfectly valid way to waste time.

The phone rings and you pick it up while still keeping one hand on the mouse to play solitaire.

“Hello this is the Seedling Lawyer’s Office. How may I help you?” You stick the phone between your ear and shoulder, playing solitaire.

There’s a chuckle from the other side of the phone. “So it is you.”

Your blood runs cold, and the only thing that your head is telling you is ‘run’. “I’m not sure who this is, could you please state your name and purpose for calling?” Playing dumb seems like the only decision right now.

“My darling, there’s no need for the semantics. I’m coming to pick you up right now.” Perfectly on cue, the sliding doors of the building open and you drop the phone, standing up abruptly.

His eyes show affection and kindness, but there’s a glimmer of... rage. You look around but no one is in the waiting room and you know the cameras are fake for security. This is a cheap layer’s business after all.

“There’s no need for the semantics Chrollo.” You try to say mockingly but it comes out more as fearful and unsure.

His smile drops and he begins walking towards your desk. “Do you understand the consequences of your actions y/n?” He scoffs kicks the heavy desk to the side as if it weighed nothing. “I missed you of course.”

“Ah well, maybe I needed a break.” It comes out as a question.

He corners you against the wall and places a rough hand on your cheek. “Oh darling, oh my sweet darling.” His smile reappears, as sweet as it always has been. “I’m going to kill your entire family.” His hand grips the side of your face roughly and he tilts your head back.

“You really are something. I would never hurt you, you know.” He places a gentle kiss against your cheek despite his tight grip on the side of your head. “But that doesn’t mean there aren’t consequences for what you’ve done.”

You swallow the lump in your throat and grab his wrist. “Well you’re hurting me right now.”

Immediately he drops his hand and sighs. “I would never hurt you intentionally, or if not necessary.” He grabs your throat, holding it so tightly you wonder if you’ll ever be able to talk again. He’s crushing your air ways and vocal cords. You claw at his wrist but its useless. “Disciplining you does not count as hurting you.” He leans forward, and if you could yelp you would.

He bites your cheek, definitely leaving a mark. After drawing blood, he licks it up. Your vision is going dark but you’re simply not strong enough to fight back. “Do you understand darling?”

#hisoka #hisoka morrow #hisoka x reader #yandere hisoka #illumi #illumi zoldyck #illumi x reader #yandere illumi #chrollo #chrollo lucilfer #chrollo x reader #yandere chrollo #phantom troupe #hxh #hunter x hunter #adult trio #adult trio x reader #yandere adult trio #yandere

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the-blue-fairie · 3 years

Text

Elsa’s scars are because of a complex interplay between the pain of the accident AND the pain of her upbringing thereafter.

I talk about the ways in which the trolls’, Agnarr’s, and Iduna’s choices negatively impact Elsa and Anna a great deal. It’s a complex subject to discuss - and I feel like I’m always returning to it because the fandom often tries to reduce it to black and white.

On the one hand, there are people in the fandom who vehemently dislike Agnarr and Iduna and portray them very negatively.

On the other hand, there are people who love Agnarr and Iduna and try to defend their every action, even when their actions hurt their daughters.

And... the trolls don’t usually get brought up at all. I mean, there are definitely folks who point out that the trolls are to blame for stoking the whole royal family’s fears... but I don’t think people can see their pain as easily in the abstract magical characters’ actions, so they just don’t dwell on them as much.

In my opinion, both extremes are approaching the matter in the wrong way. I don’t agree with people who hate Agnarr and Iduna. I don’t agree with people who paint them simply as abusive parents. In both the first film and the second, Agnarr and Iduna are good people trying to do their best in a painful situation. BUT, at the same time, their parents’ actions and the trolls’ actions hurt both of the sisters - and I feel like, when people bend over backwards to defend their actions, people ignore the hurt they caused.

AND, in some ways, I feel like the second film encourages this black and white thinking. The second film WANTS viewers to ignore the negative ramifications of the trolls’ and the parents’ actions. That’s why the film proper never discusses Agnarr’s and Iduna’s or the trolls’ actions while the sisters were children - opting instead for the tie-in book Dangerous Secrets to discuss those events... a tie-in book that, however well-written, will only reach a select audience while the films will reach a far wider audience.

This bothers me because it usually means I see people ignoring many of the external forces that caused Elsa to grow into who she is as a character.

In some cases, these are people who simply treat Elsa like a bad person because they ignore all the context that informs why she behaves like she does.

BUT, at the same time, I have friends who are deeply sympathetic to Elsa... but can’t seem to process how deeply Elsa’s upbringing informed who she grew up to be.

Like, I’ve had long discussions with friends who have told me that, if Elsa was raised differently, she would still grow up the same because her trauma comes from the accident.

I feel this represents a gross misunderstanding of how child development works.

Yes, Elsa was devastated by the accident. But consider her actions and body language immediately thereafter:

Her first instinct is to run to Anna and hold her in her arms. Even after her parents coming rushing in and her father asks what she has done, she defends herself, saying, “It was an accident. I’m sorry, Anna.” She still holds Anna close:

Elsa has to be taught to recoil, to shrink away, to keep her distance from Anna.

Elsa’s fear is learned. We only see her truly starting the pattern of shrinking away, of curling inside herself with fear of herself after Pabbie shows her an ominous vision, telling her there is “danger” in her powers.

A fear of herself that continues thereafter, after she has processed that she is and so begins to see herself as a danger:

Yes, the accident itself scarred Elsa. But to say that, “If Elsa was raised differently, things would have turned out the same because her trauma emerges from the accident” is simply wrong.

Elsa was a child being influenced by adult authority figures who ultimately failed her.

Pabbie igniting a vague and fiery vision of danger before an impressionable child influenced her, helped to cement the idea in Elsa that she is naturally dangerous.

Agnarr and Iduna separating the sisters reinforces to Elsa that there is something wrong in her - something she has to repress.

Keep in mind, I’m NOT saying this to demonize Agnarr and Iduna. As this moment shows, they are heartbroken the more Elsa shrinks from them. They love their daughter, and hate to see her hurting like this:

BUT that doesn’t change the fact that their actions helped to hurt her. Inadvertently, I know. But they still did.

To ignore the influence of the adult authority figures on who Elsa became is to ignore the complexity of how children interact with the world, how they respond to elders who are in positions of power. Elsa trusts the signals given by the adults around her. When Pabbie tells her there is “great danger” in her powers, she believes him. When her parents tell her that it is a necessity that she isolate herself and conceal herself, she trusts them.

Sometimes, certain people make much of the nuances of Pabbie’s words or Agnarr’s words. They point out that Pabbie also says there is beauty in Elsa’s powers and that “Fear will be your enemy” also refers to Elsa’s inner fear of herself. They comment that “Conceal it, don’t feel it” is not the same as “Conceal, don’t feel.”

The thing is, these readings put the blame on Elsa for misunderstanding - instead of putting the blame on the adults for inadvertently imparting hurtful messages to a child.

It shouldn’t be placed on the shoulders of a child to decipher a cryptically worded aphorism. It should be on the adult figure, especially when this adult figure is an ancient and wise being.

And really, for all the distinctions between “Conceal it, don’t feel it” and “Conceal, don’t feel,” their essence is still the same. The misguidedness of concealment, of not feeling something that is a part of you, is still rooted in the words regardless of which version we choose.

Elsa, as a child, was still told by the adults around her that she should keep her distance from others for their protection and so, as she grew older, she took that more and more to heart. She grew into what she had been taught - even though the teaching initially came from a good-hearted place.

Sometimes, I’ve had my friends ask me, “But by putting all this focus on Elsa’s influences growing up, are you sure you’re not losing focus on the pain Elsa feels because of the accident itself?” And... no, I’m not. That’s why the title of my post is, “Elsa’s scars are because of a complex interplay between the pain of the accident AND the pain of her upbringing thereafter.” Because I WANT this post to be a nuanced reflection.

But... if Pabbie hadn’t shown a vague and terrifying vision to and impressionable child and her frightened family... you can’t tell me things would have been the same.

If Iduna and Agnarr hadn’t limited Elsa’s contact with people, you can’t tell me things would have been the same.

A friend once pointed to the trail of ice Elsa makes on the journey to the Valley of the Living Rock, arguing that this shows Elsa’s loss of control and panic before Pabbie stresses that she is dangerous - and therefore arguing that this highlights that things would still turn out the same for Elsa growing up even if the trolls and her parents made different choices because she fears what she can do:

I feel my friend’s reading here is... a bit of a stretch. Elsa is scared, yes, but the self-hatred that defines her as an adult? That comes later. That, she has to learn. And it is that self-hatred and fear of herself that paralyzes her.

And I’ve had friends point out, “But Elsa WAS dangerous! She DID hurt Anna, and that’s tied into her stress with wanting to protect her, and that was before the trolls or her parents had any involvement...”

I don’t like this take because it seems to put an impossible amount of weight on Elsa as a child. It asks Elsa as a child to be perfectly composed. To not be scared for her sister’s safety. To... not feel.

It’s a take that follows the misguided logic the film ultimately refutes while defending the mistakes that caused that misguided logic to do so much harm.

And, yeah. Sure. Elsa becomes scared. In the ballroom and riding through the forest. She’s a tiny child.

That doesn’t justify teaching her to fear herself, actions that only make the problem far, far worse.

And you can say, “Well, the adults didn’t MEAN to teach Elsa that-” I know they didn’t mean to do it.

But showing a terrifying light-show to a little girl will impact her, regardless of what Pabbie meant. Especially when he does not clarify.

But slamming the gates shut will have a powerful psychological effect on both Elsa and Anna, regardless of what their parents meant.

Elsa was a child.

Children learn from their surroundings. They respond to the actions of adults they trust, adults they love. While the accident itself impacted Elsa, we cannot ignore that the way she was brought up thereafter also had a profound effect on the way she saw the world, the way she responded to the world.

Elsa was a child being influenced by adult authority figures who ultimately failed her - and the fact people are so willing to put the weight of that on a child instead of the adults surrounding her is troubling to me.

The fact that the second film kind of tacitly puts the weight of that on Elsa’s shoulders by only making abstract references to “fear” - instead of openly talking about the complex circumstances Elsa and her parents found themselves in - is troubling to me as well. It allows viewers to disregard the more complicated elements of Elsa’s relationship with her parents and only focus on the positives the second film puts on display.

(Keep in mind, I DON’T intend this post to be anti Agnarr and Iduna. I love them as characters - ESPECIALLY Iduna, with the backstory F2 offers. Agnarr and Iduna are good people. They are loving parents. They were put in a horribly complicated position... and ultimately their actions - for all their good intentions - had negative consequences.)

#frozen #frozen 2 #elsa #bigfrozensix

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bobohu4eva · 3 years

Text

Pink Lace - Chapter 7 (M)

Characters: Baekhyun x Reader (feat. EXO members)

Genre: College AU, stripper AU, fluff, smut, slow burn

Summary: Baekhyun, a philosophy professor with mysterious wealth, got himself completely fucked over a girl who can’t let him into her life.

Word count: 4.4k

Warnings: sex work, mentions of sexual assault, adult themes/situations, smut (nothing too wild this time)

Tag list: @smolbeanmika @leave-me-in-the-summertime @totallynerdstuff @bbhmystar @nana-banana @kimyhappy @thegreatandi @geniusloey @deligxt @baekswifey @bbhyun506 @lovebuginlove @bellamendoza @baekyeonoreo @bobohumyonlyboo @wooya1224 @strawbaeri-s

Masterlist

Friday went by in a blur. You finally wrote your essay, which was sent to Baekhyun after you got home from class. Class. It had been hard. Really hard. The material was challenging too, but you were more focused on how sexy Baekhyun looked in his nice professor clothes. How had you gotten this lucky? You laughed like an idiot when he saw you and innocently pulled down the hem of his shirt with one eyebrow raised at you, making fun of the marks he had so graciously placed on your neck. Lucas had seemed to notice the marks as well, since he seemed weirdly focused on his work and didn’t speak to you at all, a nice change from his usual nagging about why you wouldn’t text him back.

You couldn’t stop thinking about work the next day. Baekhyun would be there again of course, and this would be the first time for you to see him there after admitting your feelings. It gave you whiplash how quickly your opinion of him had changed in such a short time, but you had no regrets. If the last two weeks had taught you anything, it was to not second guess yourself. You were ready to get in there and give the man the lap dance of his damn life, and hopefully more. Oh how you looked forward to it.

Saturday morning, you got down to business. Of course you always tried to look a little extra nice when he’d been there in the past, but today was the real deal. You needed to be fully exfoliated, face-masked, and beautiful. There was no such thing as over preparing. Not today. You even used one of those bath bombs with glitter in it so your whole body would shimmer under the club lights.

You made a point of it to wear the same outfit you’d worn the first night he’d met you; a baby pink lace bodysuit with generous cutouts, a thong, and sparkly white heels.

You left ample time to make sure your hair and makeup would be perfect as well. For the hair you’d opted to keep it down and add a little bit of curl, as for makeup, you wanted to positively sparkle. For the first time since you’d started working as a dancer, you tasked Mia with doing your makeup since she was more skilled at it than you.

“So you want a lot of glitter and glowy-ness, right?” She asked as she dabbed foundation on your cheeks.

“Just make me look like the goddess I am.” You said, closing your eyes and smiling at her expectantly, waiting for her to continue beating your face.

“Got it boss.”

After what felt like forever, she finally turned you around to look in the mirror. Your jaw dropped. She’d done your makeup before for stuff like prom when you guys were younger, but she had really outdone herself this time.

Your skin looked like it was glowing from within, with flecks of holographic glitter sparkling every color of the rainbow across your cheeks. Your eyeliner was perfect, and she’d even overlined your lips a bit and added some highlight onto them to make them look extra kissable. It wasn’t too much, just the perfect amount to spice up your features and make you feel like a million bucks.

“Holy shit Mia I love you. I look hot.”

“You’re really gonna give him a hard time tonight.” She winked at you, and you decided you wanted to give him a bit of a preview, tease the man a little.

You and Baekhyun had been texting each other pretty consistently for the last couple days already. You slipped into your designated outfit for the night and took a few pictures to send him, only showing little parts of you at a time. You selected your two favorites, and hit send.

You: (5:46pm) I can’t wait to see you later ;)

Baekhyun: (5:52pm) Holy fuck. You know what that outfit does to me.

You grinned down at your phone at his reaction, heart fluttering and butterflies flying about in your belly. This feeling was so disgustingly sweet, but you loved every second of it.

After changing back into your regular clothes, you packed your outfit and got ready to leave after having dinner with Mia.

The club opened at 7pm sharp, and you were there right on time. You went back into the dressing room to change into your carefully selected lingerie and shoes, adding a spray of your favorite perfume as a final touch before getting back out onto the floor to start your night.

“Holy shit Candy.” You heard your manager say as you signed in for the night. “special occasion?”

Tonight, not even his comments could dampen your mood. “You could say that.” You replied cheerfully before sitting down at the bar where you usually waited until Baekhyun arrived.

After sitting for a little while you were called up on stage, so you walked across the room, making sure to sway your hips on the way, and walked up the stairs to the platform with the pole.

You walked slowly around the pole a couple times, getting into the feel of the music. Luckily the dj was on your side tonight, and was playing something slow and sensual enough for you to really get down to. You started to do your usual thing, a couple little spins on the pole, a bend over and shake of the ass here and there, before slowly laying down for some floor work. There were already a decent amount of people in the club, and a few had come up to the stage now to tip you. For maximum tips, you spent a little while in front of each of them either playing with your boobs in front of their face or turning around and shaking your ass as they threw money at you.

The way your club worked was you did one song with your outfit on, and the second song topless. When you heard your fist song coming to an end you stood back up, turning around to face your back to the room as you took it off, to make for a more dramatic reveal. You slowly peeled the thin fabric of the bodysuit off, stepping out of it leaving you in only your thong and shoes.

When you turned back around, Baekhyun’s eyes met yours from across the room. He must’ve walked in as you were facing the wall.

Immediately you grinned, and he looked just as thrilled to see you as well, sitting down at the empty table closest to the stage. He never tipped on stage, you assumed because he was shy about standing up there in front of everyone. Not that you minded, since he always paid you generously anyway. But tonight you didn’t even care about his money.

It seemed he’d put some extra effort into his look for tonight as well. 90% of the time when he would come in he was in sweats, but not today. His black jeans hugged his thighs in a way that made your mouth water, and the fitted white shirt he wore showed off the broadness of his shoulders wonderfully. His black hair was styled out of his face and his glasses were hanging off the neckline of his shirt, further defining the swells of his chest.

Oh how you had missed this. Seeing him here, absolutely enamored with you.

You snapped yourself out of your thoughts and got back to dancing, this time paying special attention to his side of the room. You made sure to send little smirks his way as you did your thing. Once you’d made your way back onto the floor of the stage, you laid on your back on the edge closest to him, arching your back and running your hands up and down your bare body suggestively as you locked eyes.

He looked like he was about to faint.

Eventually the song came to an end. You gathered all the cash that had been thrown at you and got your outfit back on before walking off stage and directly onto Baekhyun’s waiting lap.

“If you’re trying to kill me, it’s working.” You giggled at his words, blushing.

“Thank you, I know this is your favorite outfit on me, right?” You asked, gesturing down to your lacy pink bodysuit.

“Of course.” He was smiling so widely, you thought this might be the happiest you’d ever seen him before. “You look so good tonight, you always look good of course, but holy shit. You’re really so beautiful.”

Your face turned an even deeper shade of red, the way he was looking at you would’ve made any girl swoon. Oh how beautiful he was as well.

“You’re literally sparkling.” He observed, looking down at the skin of your thigh and all the little silver flecks that were reflecting the spotlights as they moved around the room. “I’m gonna be covered in glitter when I get home aren’t I?”

You laughed, “Yeah, sorry.”

“Oh the things I do for you.”

“I missed this, the two of us hanging out together here, like this.” You whispered in his ear.

You could feel just how warm Baekhyun was. His cheeks were the cutest shade of pink.

He cleared his throat before speaking. “Are you gonna be mad if I take you upstairs before ordering us drinks? I don’t think I can wait tonight.” He swallowed.

“No, I think that’s a great idea.”

“Then I need you to get off my lap babe.” You happily obliged.

As you made your way across the room towards the stairs together, your heart rate began to increase. Never in your life had you been this nervous to give someone a dance. Or maybe nervous wasn’t the right word. Anxious. You were anxious, not nervous. You weren’t scared, you just wanted to do your best to make him enjoy himself.

The both of you knew it wouldn’t be a normal lap dance today. You wouldn’t just dance for a few songs and then sit and talk like usual. There was no way either of you would have the self control to keep it at that.

When you finally got into the room Baekhyun handed you the usual stack of cash, and you started pulling down the straps of your bodysuit when he stopped you.

“I, um, can you keep it on actually? Nothing against your boobs, they’re great, but I just really like this on you.” He said as he sat down and put his glasses on.

You laughed, but put the straps back in place. “Whatever you want.”

Usually, you’d set a timer for an hour. Tonight you didn’t bother.

You got right to it, sitting yourself in between his spread legs and leaning back against his chest. You rolled your body over his to the music, before turning your head to once again whisper in his ear. “I’ve been looking forward to this all day.”

“I’ve been looking forward to this all week.”

You turned your body to face him, both hands running up and down his chest. You could feel how fast his heart was beating beneath your palm.

“Can I touch you?” He asked.

After considering it for a moment, you leaned in towards his ear again.

“You can do whatever you want.” Your bottom lip grazed his earlobe as you said it, and you saw him shiver.

Not a second later you felt his hands start to explore your lace covered torso.

“God, this is a criminal piece of clothing. Why is it so soft.” His hand eventually found it’s way to your neck, where he moved your hair out of the way to admire the marks he’d placed upon it. “So beautiful.” He murmured as he traced his fingers across the trail of bruises he’d left you with.

You stood back up straight in front of him, turned around, and bent over, running your hands across your whole backside and down your thighs. For the first time, his hands made contact with the bare skin of your ass.

“Let me know if I’m making you uncomfortable at all.”

You turned to face him again, planting a knee on either side of his left thigh. “I told you. Whatever. You. Want.” You paused between each word, just to make it a little more dramatic. He swallowed.

It was true. If he decided he wanted to fuck you right then and there, you weren’t going to stop him.

“Really? Anything?”

“Anything.” You repeated.

He was still staring into your eyes, looking slightly concerned, but he found no reason in them to not believe you. You truly wanted him to do whatever he felt like doing with you.

“Come here then.” He grabbed you by the waist firmly and lifted you off his thigh, instead placing you atop his lap completely, one knee now on either side of his body.

You’d never sat with a customer like this. Of course you’d sit on their laps facing away from them all the time, but this felt so much more intimate. You felt the hardness beneath his pants against you, close, too close, to where you wanted him the most. You put your hands back onto his chest and just stared back at him with wide eyes.

“And I can touch you anywhere?”

“Anywhere you want.” You confirmed.

He looked down from your eyes to your chest. One of his hands crept up from your waist, over your ribcage, until he let it rest over the fabric supporting your chest. He ran a thumb over your nipple where it was hiding beneath the lace, causing you to inhale sharply.

Immediately his eyes shot back up to yours, still worried that he was somehow making you uncomfortable, but the look on your face quickly washed his worries away. He felt your heart beating beneath his palm the same way you’d felt his earlier as well.

“Are you s-sure you want me to keep it on?” You asked shakily.

Instead of answering he slipped a finger beneath each of the straps and dragged them down your shoulders until your chest was once again bare. He hadn’t been lying when he said he wanted you to keep it on, but taking it off himself seemed like an even better option now. He bit his lip as he watched the fabric give way, exposing you to him. He stayed silent for a second before finally speaking.

“So, so, perfect.”

You were sure he noticed your whole body flush red at his statement.

His hands were soon back on your ribcage, pulling the bodysuit further down your torso until your entire upper body was naked. Your cheeks were starting to go numb from the excitement and your heart was beating so hard you were sure he could hear it too.

The entire time he undressed you, your eyes were fixed on his pink lips. Oh how they were tempting you. You didn’t remember ever being this turned on in your life. Once he’d had a minute to stare at your chest you quickly took the item off the rest of the way before returning to your previous position straddling his lap.

His hands were warm on your waist as he pulled you closer towards him, until your chests touched. His face was close enough to yours that you could feel his breath on your cheeks. You both just stared for a moment, until something in you snapped and you closed the distance, bringing your lips to his.

You swore there was something about the taste of his lips that was like a drug to you. The second you touched your mouth to his, your whole body felt electrified. Was this that fireworks bullshit people always talked about?

He returned the kiss the passion, but you could tell unlike in his office, he was now taking his time. Your lips moved against each other slowly as you let your fingers run through his hair. It wasn’t rushed, he let his lips move at a relaxed pace as he started to explore your mouth with his own. You felt his tongue ask for entrance and parted your lips, allowing you to taste each other.

You felt one of his hands start to move upwards from your waist, to your ribcage, until it found the soft flesh of your chest, squeezing slightly, causing you to let out a soft moan.

“I’ve fantasized about this so many times.” He broke away from the kiss just enough to get the words out. “You have no idea.”

You shivered at his words, feeling how they made the knot in your stomach tighten in excitement. When he moved his hand to your other breast and flicked a sensitive nipple with his thumb, you moaned out his name shamelessly.

“Fuck, you sound so hot”

His kisses moved from your lips, down your jaw, and to the side of your neck. He placed a gentle kiss beneath your ear giving you chills, before pressing his lips softly to each of the purple marks, making his way all the way down to your collarbone. The whole time his hands continued kneading your chest, making you nearly lose your mind.

You had been touched before, but not like this. You realized that the handful of boys you had allowed to touch you in the past hadn’t known what they were doing at all, Baekhyun did. His expert hands worshipped your bare skin expertly as he continued placing soft kisses down your neck, this time without any sucking or biting that would leave marks. He was enjoying you slowly, softly, but you were impatient and wanted more.

“Baekhyun, please” you whined.

“Please what?”

“Touch me.”

“I am touching you.”

You let out another annoyed whine, wanting, needing, something more to relieve the unbearable tension that was building between your legs. After another few seconds of waiting to see if he’d finally do anything more without any luck, you took matters into your own hands. You started to roll your hips against him, feeling the hardness in his pants through the thin fabric of your thong.

His hands flew down to your hips, gripping them firmly in an attempt to stop your movements, but you continued anyway. After several more rolls of your hips over his hard length, he gave in.

“God, y/n.” He breathed out, voice shaking slightly. “Shit.”

He began to grow needier as well, eventually using his hands on your hips to guide you, rather than stop you, as you continued grinding against him.

Your lips crashed into each other once more, this time with more desperation. He sucked, bit, and licked at your lips, as you did with his. He kept one hand on your hip, sliding down to grope your ass as the other made its way back up towards your chest. The hand on your ass squeezed and pushed you forwards to the beat of the music, pushing you firmly against the tent in his pants.

You still wanted more. You wanted him to touch you everywhere, and you wanted to feel him. In a feeble attempt to try to convince him to give you what you wanted you snaked a hand between your bodies, running it down his chest and then his stomach until you got to the top of his jeans. You let your hand inch down just a little bit further, until you could palm him through his jeans.

This time you let your kisses travel to his neck, before whispering in his ear “Please, I need more.” You could hear the neediness in your voice, but you were way too turned on to feel any shame. “Baekhyun, please.”

He already felt like he was about to burst just with the way you rolled your hips against him. It took every ounce of self restraint in his body not to just yank his pants down, rip off your underwear and shove himself inside you. Feeling your hand over his cock, hearing you literally begging him for more, was too much.

“If you don’t stop I’m gonna come.” He said, sinking his fingers into your thigh hard enough to bruise, bringing your ministrations to a halt.

You leaned back slightly to look at him and saw his eyes closed, brows furrowed with a pained expression on his face. He was really having to hold himself back. You let out a disappointed sound that was somewhere between a whine and a moan.

“That’s okay though.” You honestly wouldn’t have minded, it happened fairly often anyway when you gave lap dances, nothing you weren’t used to. “Please?” You continued to beg, resuming the movement of your hips as well.

A muffled “Oh my god” was all he could get out before his hands were back on you.

He still wouldn’t touch you the way you wanted him to, leaving you more and more wound up and desperate as you whined in his ear with every roll of your hips. His eyes were still closed and his head was tipped back against the couch, giving you access to the smooth skin of his neck. You left kisses all over the soft skin as you kept up the motion of your hips, and you knew he was about to crumble.

You weren’t doing much better yourself. His hands found their way back to your chest, kneading and pinching the sensitive skin perfectly, reducing you to a quivering mess above him. The tension in the pit of your stomach kept building, and you knew you were close as well.

Not a minute later you felt your release crash over your body as you shook against him, letting out a sound of pure euphoria. He seemed to notice, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you in for another searing kiss. You kept moving against him and soon felt him go rigid as well. When he came he held you against his body so tightly, kissed you so hard you forgot your own name for a second. All that mattered in that moment was how good the both of you felt, panting and shaking as you slowly recovered from your highs. As your breathing gradually slowed down, you rested your head on his shoulder, closing your eyes in bliss.

To your disappointment he pushed you back by your shoulder, pulling you out of your dream-like state.

He was shaking his head, “I-I’m sorry I didn’t mean to-”

Instead of listening to him try to apologize for nothing, you shut him up by cupping his face and pulling him into a kiss. “Thank you.”

You smiled at him brightly and he returned it ten fold. You swore that smile was like sunshine even on the darkest day. You let your head rest on his shoulder once again, and he rubbed soothing circles onto the bare skin of your back.

“I was gonna apologize because I really wanted to save this for after I took you on a real date.”

You leaned back up to look at him once again, giggling at his words. “If anything you should be apologizing for not fucking me for real. But does that mean you’re asking me on a date?”

“No! I mean... not yet. I want to do it right. Ask you out properly. But you make it so fucking difficult, you know how hard I have to hold myself back? You’re one hell of a temptation to resist.”

You only rolled your eyes at him, “You’re the one choosing to hold back, if it were up to me you would’ve bent me over your desk Wednesday night already.”

He chuckled, “I know the way we met is... different, but that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to be swept off your feet. I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if I treated this like nothing more than some heat of the moment fling. I want more than that, I hope you do too.” He said, looking up at you with hopeful eyes.

“Yeah, I do.” You blushed, looking down to avoid his gaze. Here he was, once again making you flustered with how honest and open he was about his feelings towards you.

The way he smiled back at you, and the admiration you saw in his eyes told you everything you needed to know. You brought your lips to his, and this time, you weren’t fueled by lust. The two of you just enjoyed the feeling of the others lips, basking in the softness and intimacy of it.

Eventually he pulled away, and cleared his throat “I hate to ruin the moment, but I kind of wanna get home and shower. I told you to stop if you didn’t want me to but you kept going so...”

You pouted, but he was right. You’d brought this on yourself. “Okay” you sighed.

After getting off Baekhyun’s lap you got your bodysuit back on, but before you could exit the room together, he grabbed your wrist.

“Come here.” He pulled you towards him, placing his hands around your waist, and you let your arms rest on his shoulders. He looked at you again with those same eyes from earlier, but this time he held your gaze much longer, and with much more intensity. Something felt different this time when he looked at you, like he was trying to tell you something just with his eyes. He brought a hand up to your face, stroking your cheek with his thumb. “You’re so pretty.”

You felt yourself go pink, and smiled as he pulled you in for one last kiss, this one even sweeter than the last.

Eventually both of you went back downstairs, you disappeared into the dressing room to get ready to leave, and Baekhyun went straight to his car.

On your way home you kept thinking about the way he’d looked at you before you both left. It had somehow felt different, more intimate. His gaze had held so much emotion, you wished you could look inside his head at what he’d been thinking. You had been kind of surprised when all he said was that you were pretty, something he’d told you a million times before, so why was it so different this time? Why did it feel like it meant so much more?

The last kiss as well felt too sweet, far too romantic for the time and the place. He was always completely open with his feelings, and of course you knew he liked you, but you couldn’t help but feel like there were some unspoken words in the way he’d looked at you just then.

Maybe, just maybe, it could be love.

Next Chapter

#baekhyun #exo #baekhyun fic #exo fic #baekhyun smut #baekhyun fluff #baekhyun fanfic #exo fanfic #exo smut #exo fluff

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seijorhi · 4 years

Note

hello, i love your writing and was hoping if u could write a yandere kuroo x reader where he corners her in a corner and kenma is there and is getting off from it 😳 thank u !

Asdfghjkl this was supposed to be posted on Sunday I’m sorry, bby!! I hope it’s worth the wait! 💕 also, loved this request so thanks for sending it in 😊

Kuroo Tetsuro x Female Reader, Kenma Kozume x Female Reader

TW dub con, coercion (kinda?), stalking, humiliation

Helping Hand

There’s a certain peace you find in the looming stacks of the library after the sun sets. It’s quieter then, less people milling about. You don’t have to fight for space or books, and considering you have midterms soon and essays coming out of your ears, that makes it the perfect study environment.

It’s only a little after eight, the library’s still open for another two and a half hours, but on the fourth floor it’s almost a ghost town - just how you like it. There’s a professor tucked away in the back corner, piles of books built up around him, an older librarian with her trolley, slowly re-shelving books, and two other guys around your age sitting huddled at a table a few down from yours - the textbooks and highlights spread across their desk having been long since abandoned in favour of literally anything else.

Honestly, you’d wonder why they’d bother coming to the library at all if it wasn’t an almost daily occurrence. Most days you were there, so were they - usually together, although it wasn’t uncommon to see just one of them camped out between the stacks as you made your way to your desk. The duo, one tall and lean with a shock of messy dark hair that always looked like he’d just rolled out of bed, and the other smaller, more reserved, with bleached hair and dark roots in serious need of a touch up, seemed to prefer this time to study too - not that they ever seemed to actually do all that much studying.

Usually the blonde ends up absorbed in his switch while the other casually thumbs through whichever book is closest.

So long as they were quiet and didn’t disturb you, who were you to judge?

You don’t really remember when they’d started to appear, only that they’d quickly become a fixture in your refuge - distantly familiar presences like strangers travelling on the same bus to work each day. They smile (well, the dark haired one does) and nod whenever you happen to look up from your notes and catch their eye, and while you’ve only spoken a handful of words to the both of them, they always seemed nice.

Nicer than the clearly overworked professor muttering away in the corner at any rate, which makes them the logical choice to approach when you find your bladder uncomfortably full halfway through your self imposed study session. Realistically, you know at this time of the night nobody else is likely to make their way up to the fourth floor, much less have any interest in your shitty, old laptop or the five whole dollars in your wallet - yet you find you making your way over to the twosome’s table anyway, a faint blush dusting across your cheeks.

“… don’t want to,” you overhear the blonde mutter, his attention wholly focused upon the game in his hands. “Things are fine, why change that?”

His friend sighs, “Because you can deny it all you want, but I know you better than that. I know I’m not the only one who wants more. You can’t just sit back and…” he trails off suddenly, hazel eyes flickering over to you in surprise.

Confused by his friend’s sudden silence, the blonde lowers his game and glances up - only to still at the sight of you.

You swallow down your nerves, plastering what you hope is a friendly enough smile across your face, “Hi, uh… sorry to interrupt you guys, but would you mind watching my stuff for a few minutes while I go to the bathroom? I won’t be long or anything, I just don’t like leaving my stuff out in the open,” you say with a sheepish laugh, well aware that you’re rambling like an idiot.

It’s the dark haired one who answers, a wide grin breaking across his face as he nods, “Yeah, no worries. We’d be glad to.”

You smile back, ignoring the faint fluttering in your stomach (he does look kind of cute grinning like that), thanking him again before rushing away in the direction of the bathroom.

It doesn’t take long for your thoughts to drift away from the duo back to the essay you’re mid-way through drafting. You have a sinking feeling that the argument you’re trying to use in the fourth paragraph is essentially a just rehash of the point you made in the first. By the time you unlock the stall door and make your way over to the sink to wash your hands, you’re starting to debate the merits of scrapping the whole thing and starting fresh with new ideas.

You still technically have time, it’s not due until the end of the month, but you just kind of want it done so you don’t have to think about it anymore. Then again, that’s kind of your feelings towards the semester as a whole.

Who are you kidding? University’s kicking your ass this year.

The ancient hand dryer’s almost deafening as it clicks on - it masks the sound door swinging open and the footsteps that echo out from the tile floors.

It’s only when your eyes flicker up to mirror that you see that you’re no longer alone-

Standing right behind you is the guy from before; the tall, dark haired one.

- and jerk in surprise, stumbling backwards with a choked yelp.

It doesn’t hit you right away - no, that’s relief that has you drawing a hand over your chest and letting out a shaking laugh. “You scared the hell out of me!” you say, bracing yourself over the sink to try and calm your breathing.

No, it doesn’t hit you quickly. Realisation is slow - creeping through your veins like ice as your eyes flicker back up the mirror.

He hasn’t moved.

He’s smiling, grinning really, but there’s something… something off about it. It doesn’t quite meet his eyes… Why isn’t he saying anything?

W-why isn’t he moving away?

Your heart, still hammering from his shock of his sudden appearance, squeezes uncomfortably and your eyes slowly widen.

“Wh-”

A rough, calloused palm slaps across your mouth, smothering whatever words you’d been about to speak. “Ah, ah. Gotta keep it down, sweetheart.”

He winks at you in the mirror, taking a tiny step towards you and you squeak, breathing in sharp, shallow pants through your nose as a warm, muscled chest presses against your back. “You’re a nervous little thing, aren’tcha?” he chuckles. “Relax a little - promise I don’t bite.”

With one hand wrapped around your lips the other creeping across your waist, his words don’t exactly bring you a lot of comfort.

It makes no difference either way - you’re paralysed, shaking and trembling, but utterly unable to move as he noses at the column of your throat, his warm breath tickling your skin.

You could scream, but there’s no guarantee anybody would hear you. You could try and fight him off, but he’s taller than you, and you’re willing to bet stronger as well.

Will he hurt you if you try and resist?

Is he gonna hurt you anyway?

You’ve heard the stories before about men who follow women into empty bathrooms and the awful things they do, but you never...

Those things don’t happen in places like this. The library is supposed to be safe, he- he’s been-

Your stomach drops.

Weeks.

He’s been visiting the library with his friend, sitting across from you for weeks.

His eyes bore into your reflection in the mirror like he can hear every terrified thought that passes through your head, and with excruciating slowness you’re forced to watch as his lips brush a kiss against your cheek, lingering and sweet - a mockery of tenderness.

A scared little whimper is all you can manage, and even that is swallowed up by the sound of the bathroom door squeaking open once more.

Your heart skips a beat, eyes widening.

A faint burst of hope flickers to life.

You might not be a fighter, but this might be the only chance you have. You shriek again, the sound woefully muffled, and writhe against your captor’s tightening grip as slow footsteps round the corner.

Please, you think as tears stream silently down your face. Please help me.

What little hope you have is quickly - brutally - extinguished as your would be saviour steps into view.

Your legs shake and you’re almost positive that if it wasn’t for the strong arms wrapped around you, you would have crumpled to the floor.

It’s his friend, the blonde, hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie, watching the scene before him - you struggling against an iron grip, gagged and terrified - like it’s nothing out of the ordinary.

Your captor chuckles, relaxing his grip as his hand drifts upwards to palm at your breast and you want to die. “Glad you finally decided to grace us with your presence.”

“Shut up, Kuroo,” the blonde groans as he makes his way over, but he barely glances at his friend before his catlike eyes come to rest on you.

Your cheeks are burning, a potent mix of shame, nausea and dread churning in your stomach as you’re crudely felt up, but under the blonde’s attention you freeze.

While his face is a blank mask of apathetic disinterest, those golden irises are piercing in their intensity as they study you.

The glint in his eyes is as unmistakable as it is stark; anticipation - like a house cat watching a golden canary flit restlessly in its cage.

The hiccuping sob comes unbidden, choking at your throat as you wail against the palm at your lips. You’ve never wanted to disappear so badly in your entire life, to slap yourself awake and realise that it’s nothing but a stress induced nightmare because this can’t be happening.

Why you?

What could you possibly have done to deserve this?

“Relax,” Kuroo repeats, leaning down over you again, “we’re not gonna hurt you. Just wanna have some fun, that’s all.” You think he’s going to try and kiss you again, but instead his tongue darts out and he licks at the silvery tear tracks, groaning softly.

You shoot the quiet blonde a desperate, pleading look. He hasn’t lifted a finger to stop what’s happening, hasn’t done anything other than stare at you, but even as his lips twitch into the faintest hint of a smile you hold out on the shadow of a prayer that maybe, just maybe-

Kuroo follows your wide, panicked gaze and almost snorts. “You’re barking up the wrong tree there, baby. Kenma’s not gonna help you. He wants this just as badly as I do.” His thumb slides across your cheek, brushing away more tears, “C’mon, on your knees.”

He doesn’t give you a choice - the hand on your shoulder forces your shaking knees to buckle and you fall down to the bathroom floor.

The tiles are cold against your bare legs, but the shivers that wrack through you have little to do with the temperature. It’s far too late to regret the short skirt you’d thrown on that morning.

Kuroo hums appreciatively, lifting his palm to tap it a few times against your cheek like you’re an adorable little puppy who’s just learned its first trick, “It’s a good look for you, baby, but I think it’d be even better without this-” his fingers tug at the collar of your top and his grin widens, “- in the way.”

Yet he makes no move to take it off for you. One look into his eyes, the glittering amusement darkened with lewd desire and you know that he won’t.

He wants you to do it, to play along in their fun - to be an active participant in your own humiliation.

And really, what other choice do you have?

It’s impossible to ignore the bulge straining against his jeans as your trembling fingers grip the hem of your top and reluctantly yank it upwards. There’s a sharp inhale - Kuroo you think - and a whistle as it comes off, baring your lacy bra and the soft skin underneath to their hungry gazes.

Only for a moment.

Staring resolutely at the floor you’re quick to try and cover what little modesty you have left, bringing your arms up to wrap around your chest-

Except a hand catches at your wrist and tugs it back, and when you glance up you find it’s Kenma’s.

“… Don’t,” he murmurs. “I want to see you.”

You let your arms drop, hands clenching into shaking fists in your lap, fingernails biting into your palm.

The sound of a zipper being pulled undone is almost deafening in the quiet bathroom. Fresh tears sting at your eyes, but you can’t bear to look at either of them as Kuroo reaches inside his pants and frees his cock.

The hand that cups your cheek is surprisingly gentle as he coaxes your face back towards him and the achingly hard member in his grip. “See Kenma, I told you - change ain’t always a bad thing.”

His dark eyes flicker back to you and he grins, “Open up, sweetheart.”

#yandere haikyuu #yandere kuroo #yandere kuroo x reader #yandere kenma #yandere kenma x reader #yandere #yandere kuroo tetsuro #yandere kuroo tetsuro x reader #female reader #yandere kenma kozume #yandere kenma kozume x reader #kenma x reader #kuroo x reader #tw dub con #tw implied stalking #tw humiliation #kuroo x reader x kenma

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ystk-archive · 3 years

Photo

First of all, big apologies to the six people above who asked me about this song over a month ago when it came out. I understand what Nakata meant when he said he only knows a song is finished when he hits his deadline – I could’ve easily let this sit another week and came back and messed with it more lmao.

If you want the short and simple of it: it’s nice, with all that piano it’s sort of reminiscent of jelly (aside from the WOF thing which I’ll, uh, get into below), it’s great to see Toshiko in one of their MVs again (and Nakata directing which hasn’t happened since ’07) though I’m not wild about the video per se. I guess in a broad sense I would say I like it, it’s a return to form for him and infinitely more enjoyable than anything he’s done with his “officially solo” material, but I could also fully understand if someone thought it was boring.

For my actual thoughts on it...

Hikari no Disco (ひかりのディスコ; Light Disco) as a whole package is sort of unusually mired in nostalgia. It’s got all that densely layered, classic style Nakata’s best known for which has been largely absent from his other projects over the past six years of CAPSULE (god I still don’t like the all-uppercase stylization) being in live-shows-only mode. As a piece of music it has an endearing sense of comfort and awe; it amuses the listener with odd little vocal modulations (my favorite is at 2:02), pointed percussive moments, and a strong piano backbone that work in tandem to give it character and charm. It even eschews the club-ready rinse-and-repeat of Nakata’s past compositions for capsule in favor of something very traditionally pop: an actual, proper break right before the song’s climax. Maybe it’s not a stretch to say all the tiny flourishes and embellishments in Hikari are a pure reflection of Nakata finally finding some kind of reason to go back to capsule – the overly bombastic (and loud) way the track opens feels like a curtain unveiling, like somebody pointing to capsule and going “hey, look at this!”

Though there is a bit of an elephant in the room here and that would be the recurrence of the motif from WORLD OF FANTASY (the repeating pattern of twelve-ish notes) which defined that track ten years ago. For the person who mentioned him recycling material, he did say in his Real Sound interview that he deliberately sampled it, but despite my agreeing with him in that it’s a good motif I have a few issues with its reappearance in Hikari. It’s such a specific and memorable facet of a previous track in their discography that its inclusion here feels like a sister song has been created rather than an entirely new work. Not only that, but Nakata went one step further with this callback and basically reimagined the entire music video for WOF as well. He’s definitely not a stranger to self-reference within his music but it normally seems to occur under incidental circumstances, and since historically capsule isn’t a music unit that does a lot of looking back, it comes across strangely for longtime listeners. Nostalgia and sampling oneself aren’t inherently bad, the problem here is that it doesn’t do enough to transform its inspiration point into a solidly new work. I spend both the song and music video just thinking about WORLD OF FANTASY and comparing the two in my mind.

Which, speaking of new works, you probably don’t need me to tell you this brings absolutely nothing new to the table for Nakata’s standard. I’m mixed on whether or not I could call this a detraction, because on one hand I’ve believed for years that he could stand to break out of his comfort zone musically and really try wholly different things (CAPS LOCK is an example), but on the other hand I recognize that capsule’s first new track in six years may not be the place to expect that. I think my concerns right now are for an album that’ll be too self-referential and maybe too focused on being something people remember liking from over a decade ago. (I mean, even their new artist photo is a goofy MORE! MORE! MORE! reference. Love the gloves, though.)

Lyrically Hikari is even more nostalgic, verging on the same type of sweetness present in past capsule songs like FRUITS CLiPPER’s dreamin dreamin and FLASH BACK’s Eternity. I often find myself fixating on the line “この身体にまだ / 慣れてないけど” (“Though I’m still not used to this body”); it strikes me as a strange thing to say in a song that’s otherwise teeming with sentimentality and familiar words (disco, stars, sparkling, landing, lights). Is the speaker meant to be an alien that got turned into a human? Are they now a 41-year-old grappling with age? Am I reading into things here? To answer the person who asked what the song “means,” it’s really up to your interpretation and how you relate to it. For me it’s a song about the lights of the city at dusk, the lights of the club and, just maybe, the lights inside all of our hearts. (That was awful. I’m kidding.)

The music video is an anomaly in that it is apparently Nakata’s return to the director’s seat after a fourteen-year absence from helming this aspect of capsule. While video direction isn’t exactly his forté, nor has it ever seemed like a passion of his, I’ve always enjoyed the outside-the-box approach that yielded visual works like Retro Memory’s stylish, static angle lounge singer concept and Glider’s quirky portrayal of the afterlife, or something. Despite what I said earlier, Hikari is equally helped by the immediate parallel the viewer will draw between it and the music video for WORLD OF FANTASY – it’s almost as if (note: he did not say this! I’m speculating!) Nakata revisited WOF and felt dissatisfied by director Tani Atsushi’s “night drive through Tokyo but make it Blade Runner on a budget.” As someone who never particularly cared for that MV, I have to praise what Hikari does differently with the same basic premise. Here, Toshiko is shown through a neutral lens that chooses not to highlight her body as she gets into a Honda Prelude, an older car almost utterly devoid of the cool points earned by WOF’s Lamborghini. The core of Hikari’s intrigue is in anachronism: the car is from the 1980s, but the road Toshiko is driving on didn’t exist at that time, so when does the music video take place? They carefully include a shot of Tokyo Tower, a symbol of pre-2010s Tokyo, and exclude the much newer Skytree. There’s also the appearance of the cassette tape from which the single’s cover art and central nostalgic ethos are derived. Where WOF followed expectations of an ultra-sleek futuristic cityscape, Hikari is subversive in only the way something with Nakata’s direct involvement could be. It does it all with an unsteadily amateurish camera, a fixation on the unfocused glittering lights of the city, and an intense 3D-effect filter that brings to mind Sugarless GiRL, his last directorial work.

Though as charmingly set up as Hikari is, the video – and Toshiko – ultimately go nowhere. Not that capsule’s music videos were ever particularly story-driven (the animated sci-fi trilogy notwithstanding), nor do they need to be, but there’s a one-note sameness that permeates Hikari and leaves me wanting more. This is especially glaring in the way the video ends with in-car audio and prolonged silence, suggesting something is about to happen, but nothing does. As the music itself ended I found myself desperately hoping for a visual conclusion to go with it: maybe she’d answer a phone call, or arrive at her destination and get out, but the MV just sort of...stops. Legend has it she’s still driving to this day.

Overall the music video does its job better than any other capsule MV between 2010 and now, and the musical nostalgia here is a fun diversion even if it isn’t exactly introducing new ideas. I’m presently just confused about the status of the album (and whether something as jarringly old-school as Utsusemi will get tacked on there) but capsule’s not really followed consistent scheduling since they moved to Warner/ASOBISYSTEM. Maybe next time they drop something I’ll be more conscientious of the timing of answering questions about it though, lol.

#messages #capsule #Hikari no Disco #i really wrote ~1000 words about this...#and i didn't even say everything i could've said #oh well

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katfett · 3 years

Text

Damned (Hvitserk x OC) - Prompt Piece

Summary:

Unable to find peace with his path, Hvitserk decides an early morning wash to clear his doubts was in order. The water nymph that he accidentally comes upon is temptation itself and the young monk cannot win the internal war raging between the man he was, the man he is and the man he should be.

Prompt:

“For a monk, it does present certain problems.” (In the name of the rose)

Author’s Note:

Any mistakes, I apologise for. I know I’ve probably missed some. I’ll fix them tomorrow.

I’m going to be honest, I really disliked and liked the end of Hvitserk’s story. It made sense in Hirst’s story but it let me do this so yay! I wanted to see Hvitserk venture to Ireland and come into his own. So this is the concept of him shedding that path and following another. I also wrote this in the span of two hours, and did not realise how long I made it... enjoy! Thank @youbloodymadgenius cause without her prompt, this wouldn’t exist.

Warnings: Smut, nudity, internal conflict.

***

Travelling north on his pilgrimage was strange. He had been so accustomed to his old life, the life of a heathen, that the friendly greetings and kindness displayed were uncomfortable. It had been some long months since that bloody day; since Ivar’s death.

He still saw him, dreamt of him. He would never be without him. The constant shadow whispering that he shouldn’t have renounced their gods, he should’ve returned to Kattegat and taken it back from Ingrid. Some nights, he could feel the blade against his throat that Ivar’s ghost would hold there, telling him he didn’t belong in monk’s clothes.

Last night, had been such a night. He could sleep on the hard ground without complaint; he’d done it long before taking his vows.

Still, he was weary and exhausted come morning. The pilgrimage had been requested by Alfred. They wished him to venture across England, spreading the word of god, self-reflecting, praying.

There was a deep part of Hvitserk that was grateful to escape the confines of the church; his life before had left him a wanderer, and that part of him felt too confined in one place for months on end.

Scrubbing a hand down his face, Hvitserk climbed to his feet. He looked around at the sleeping forms around him. Three monks had come with him, Alfred’s watch, Hvitserk knew, as the young king still did not fully trust him.

The sun had not yet risen and Hvitserk decided he would take the time to wash while the others slept. He grew weary of their eyes following the tattoos adorning him when they shared the river; marks that highlighted just what he had been before this.

Finding the river, Hvitserk stripped off his robes and sunk into the cold water with a sharp breath. It was freezing but it woke him up.

A startled squeal pierced the silence of the early morning and Hvitserk spun, hands instinctively going for a weapon at his hip that was no longer there.

His eyes landed on the woman; back to him and waist deep in the water. Her arms were wrapped about her front, even though she was turned from him, her wide eyes looking at him incredulously.

“What are you doing?!” She all but hissed at him.

Hvitserk glanced down at himself, suddenly aware that he was thigh deep in the water and therefore completely exposed to her. He quickly sunk into deep into the water until it covered his lower half.

“I could ask the same of you woman,” he said. The response wasn’t passive and apologetic for looking at her naked back, as it should’ve been for a monk.

She was watching him warily, he could see the way she glanced towards her clothes on the bank, to where a bow and quiver lay. Her blonde hair hung down her back, clinging to fair skin as they stared at one another.

Then he realised what she was staring at; his tattoos. He muttered a curse under his breath, brother Osgyth would’ve blushed hearing it. The woman thought him a Viking.

“I was bathing. You intruded.” Her voice was firm, as though she were scolding a child.

Hvitserk held his hands up as a sign of surrender, though he refused to take his eyes off her, aware of the weapon on the bank.

“You bathe alone?” Hvitserk asked.

“Yes.”

He waved around to their surroundings. “Are you not worried about being set upon?”

The heavy silence that followed said everything. Laughter broke it and Hvitserk was surprised by how sweet it was. It had been a long time since he had heard the laughter of a woman.

“You have set upon me, Viking.”

He frowned, scrubbing a hand across the back of his neck as he motioned to the robes laying near where he’d walked in. “I am not Viking.”

Her eyes followed his hand, spying the robes she frowned. “A monk?”

She turned to face him then; her arms still covered her breasts but Hvitserk now was able to see her fully.

She was beautiful. He should’ve pushed the thought down; shouldn’t let his gaze trail across slim shoulders, the swell of her breasts that were exposed above her arm, or her flat belly and wide hips, but he did.

He bit out a soft curse feeling the shift in his thoughts. She was beautiful, and alluring. Hvitserk hadn’t lain with a woman in a long time, even before converting. Until now, it hadn’t been much of a problem.

***

Elen stared at the man. He looked more heathen than he did monk. His muscular chest was covered by tattoos, his hair was long and not shaved at the top like she’d seen of monks before and his beard was long. His overall appearance did little to evoke the image of a monk.

The robes could be a ruse. The cross about his neck stolen from a man of god he had slain. Despite the fall of Ivar the Boneless, the Vikings still raided into Mercia and Elen knew what they did to women.

If only she could get to her bow.

He had only nodded in reply to her query about him being a monk. He spoke English well too, for a Viking.

***

Hvitserk was quiet, unmoving as he watched her deep in thought. Her face was pretty, she couldn’t be much younger than him. Did her husband know where she was? Did she have a husband?

Hvitserk felt like pinching himself and from somewhere deep in his mind he heard Ivar laughing darkly at his predicament. What did it matter? He should get out and leave her to bathe. His legs didn’t move.

“Are you going to turn around?”

Hvitserk actually grinned at her; a cheeky, boyish grin. “So you can go for the bow? I don’t think so.”

She didn’t fire a remark back. She had been thinking it, he would be too if he were face to face with himself like this in her place.

She turned her back to him with a stubborn huff and he chuckled quietly. She was quite feisty for an English woman. He hadn’t met many, even now he lived here among them. His days had been spent cloistered, being taught to write. It had been embarrassing at first, but his people hadn’t been ones for writing their histories down like the English did; like Alfred’s chronicle.

The woman uncovered herself once she presented her back to him. She was going to pretend he wasn’t there. Some part of Hvitserk stirred as he watched her dip low and tip her head back to soak her hair. She straightened, squeezing the water from her golden locks. In her movement, he could see the swell of her breasts and had to bite his lip.

He had not really thought of fucking since converting. It just didn’t occupy his thoughts as it once had, but seeing this woman it reawakened in him and he was suddenly hungry for it.

He quickly scooped up two handfuls of water and splashed his face, scrubbing to try and cool his thoughts. He had said vows, he couldn’t be that kind of man anymore.

***

Elen didn’t look at him. The monk, she still had her doubts, was handsome and she blushed at the sinful thought of how it might feel to lay with him. He was a man of god, even though he looked heathen, he had not moved to invade her space.

“I am Aethelstan, lady.”

His voice was deep, smooth and calm. He called her lady? She almost laughed at the idea of appearing at all ladylike as naked and wet as she was.

“Elen, monk.” She heard the sloshing of water. Glancing over her shoulder, Elen found him sitting in the water, chest deep, his gaze far off. She wondered who he was. Monks didn’t usually look like heathens. Who had he been in his previous life? Had the church forced him into converting?

Sinking down so her chest was covered, Elen turned to look at him. She could go for her bow while he was like this, he might catch her but he surely didn’t have reflexes as quick as hers.

Something stopped her though as she heard him sigh, pressing his fingers into his eyes for a moment. “How do people live like this?”

Was the question for her? Was it about his predicament? She tipped her head curiously, treading a few cautious steps closer. He glanced at her and Elen realised he looked exhausted. “Live like what, Aethelstan?”

He seemed to cringe as she spoke the name. It likely wasn’t his birth name, perhaps he was still fresh to the church and getting use to having to answer to a new name.

“So confined by rules,” he muttered, hitting at the water as he drew a knee up and rested an arm on it.

Fascinated, Elen dared to move just a little closer. “Can you turn?”

He glanced across at her and she was struck by the confused, weary look in his eyes. His gaze dragged over her for a moment. “You won’t go for the bow?”

She smiled, shaking her head. “So long as you don’t try anything.”

He shifted in the water, presenting her his back. She moved so she could sit with her back to him, but the scars stopped her. Up close they were visible; old and new scars. So he had fought in his previous life. He was definitely a Viking, but how had he become a monk? She almost reached out to touch the raised, white lines on his back but stopped herself.

Instead, Elen shifted and leaned her back against his. She felt him tense as their skin came into contact; his back was warm and hard.

***

She was so close. Her back leaned into his and he tensed, unable to control the reaction. She didn’t move, letting him adjust to having her there. She was warm against him and he smiled to himself, dropping his gaze to the side to glance at where her arm was drawing lazy circles across the water.

This was peaceful, calming. He reached for the cross around his neck. It felt heavy as he weighed his thoughts.

“Who were you?”

Her soft question pierced the comforting silence and he sighed, dropping the cross back down. He didn’t respond straight away and it earned him a nudge.

With a raised brow, he glanced at her over his shoulder. She smiled sweetly at him and Hvitserk was captured by it. She was beautiful up close; delicate features on a face shaped by Freya... he stopped.

No, not Freya. Freya hadn’t made this woman. Her god, his new god had.

“A Viking.”

She rolled her eyes and he smiled. He didn’t miss the way her cheeks suddenly flushed as she watched him. “That is a given. Did you convert willingly?”

He nodded. “Yes.” She remained quiet, waiting for him to continue. When he didn’t, she sighed, leaning her whole back against his and dropping her head against his shoulder. His breath fanned her cheek as he watched her. Her eyes were closed, waiting. “I did, but adjusting, reshaping everything I knew to be a monk, is far harder than I expected.”

“Did you leave family behind? Do you regret the choice?”

She was curious he realised. He reached up, letting his fingers brush across the hair sticking to her temple, pushing it back gently, letting his fingers card through the long tresses hanging by his shoulder. He felt the shiver go through her.

“I don’t know if any survived. My father, my mother, three of my brothers are dead,” he said, Ragnar, Aslaug, Sigurd, Bjorn, Ivar - all dead. Ubbe’s face came to him then. Had his brother survived his journey? Were two sons of Ragnar still walking the earth? He hummed a little at the thought of his older brother. Would he be proud of him? Would he laugh as Ivar did in his dreams? “There are times I do regret it.”

She was quiet for a moment, her eyes fluttered open and their gazes met. “When do you find yourself regretting it?”

He wanted to chuckle. Was she an Angel coming to question his faith? His commitment? Was she a sign from old gods wanting him back? It was hard to tell.

“When I think of my father, when I picture the disdain my mother would have seeing me as I am, when I picture my brother and his disdain for Christains,” he said and then smiled, continuing, “when I find myself in front of a beautiful, naked woman and shame and guilt collide with want and desire.”

Her cheeks flushed and she let out a breathy chuckle, pulling her head from his shoulder. He was being bold, the old Hvitserk was bold, Aethelstan wasn’t meant to be. “And, what would you do if you found yourself in front of a such a woman before you converted?”

He raised an eyebrow, surprised at her boldness. She didn’t seem innocent but he knew women could be many things. “Are you asking so you can imagine it on a cold, lonely night, Elen?”

“I’m curious is all.”

She deflected well.

“Ah,” he hummed, not believing her for a second, and then he turned just a little, his fingers reaching out to trail across what was exposed of her upper arm. Her body shuddered against his and he grinned, letting his fingers slid along her shoulder and then down her back. “I would fuck her until she cried out my name like a prayer to her god.”

Her soft whimper was barely audible as he swept her hair up into his hand, drawing it across her opposite shoulder as his hand came around the back of her neck, his thumb finding her pulse. It was racing frantically under his thumb. He squeezed gently. “Though then I would have broken my vows.”

His fingers almost slipped away but she reached over her shoulder, stopping them. He remained where he was. “For a monk, it does present certain problems.”

Hvitserk chuckled, nodding at her. “It does indeed, and so Elen, I find myself at an impasse.”

She turned to him, his hand remained on her, following her. They stared at one another. She licked her lips, and his eyes dropped to her mouth. It was soft and full, perfect for kissing. He wanted her. Damn him to his new God’s hell for it, but he wanted her and he wanted to give in to that want. “Do they not preach God will forgive those who repent?”

He smiled at her.

“They do,” he whispered, leaning down slowly to her mouth. “What if I have a taste and do not want to repent after?”

Her breath fanned over him as she chuckled softly. “Then that would be between you and God, Aethelstan.”

“It’s Hvitserk,” he said before capturing her mouth in a kiss. She turned fully to face him, her hands sliding around his neck as he pulled her in to him. She tasted sweet and he was drowning, lost in the feel of her fingers burying into his hair as she kissed him back with a surprising fervour.

Hvitserk knew he shouldn’t, knew that even if God would forgive him, he had failed a test so easily succumbing to the nymph with him. How could he ever hope to maintain his vows if he let himself fall now?

Her body pressed into his and he groaned at the feel of full, heavy breasts against his chest. She was made for fucking, what man in their right mind would refuse a willing roll with a woman like her. Hvitserk’s thoughts crumbled away as they came to their knees in the water, their bodies flush against the other. She moaned softly into his mouth as his tongue swept across her lower lip.

In an awkward tangle, they managed to stand, Hvitserk’s hands found her hips to guide her backwards to the bank, never letting up from their kiss. She clung to him, her small frame moulding to him in a way that was just right.

He broke away as they came down to his robes, her back hitting the cloth as he settled between her thighs. Her legs clung to his waist and he stared down at her. She was watching him with hooded eyes. He hadn’t been with a woman in so long. Cupping her cheek, he leaned in and kissed her.

“Are you innocent?” he asked against her.

She didn’t answer at first. Then slowly she nodded against him. He grinned against her. “You’d let a heathen turned priest take your innocence?”

Her cheeks were bright red and she bit her lip as she stared up at him. “I’m letting Hvitserk.”

He ground his cock against her belly as she said his name. His real name. He pulled back from their kiss and reached between them. His thumb found that nub between her legs and glided over it, she whimpered, her legs tightening around his body. He buried his head into her throat; nipping and sucking at the fair, damp flesh as he touched her.

She rode his fingers as he slipped two into her, needing her ready for him. Her body arched from the ground as his lips found her nipples. His teeth closed over one as her nails dug into his back. He grunted; rocking against her. He swallowed her cry as she came, all too aware of how close his fellow monks were. Though they tended to sleep like they were in the safety of their beds, even whilst on the road, he didn’t want to risk them hearing.

She trembled against him. Hvitserk grinned at the soft sigh that escaped her as she relaxed into the cloth at her back. Coating his fingers in her slickness, Hvitserk took hold of his hard cock and stroked himself. She glanced down between them, watching what he was doing. Elen was breathtaking beneath him. A water nymph who had seduced him with her sharp tongue. He grunted as he felt his belly tense. Her fingers glided along his sides as he positioned himself. He looked at her, the question hanging between them.

“Hvitserk.” His name was a breathy whisper from her swollen lips and he grinned down at her, sliding in a little. She tensed at first and he pulled back, repeating his movement, letting himself sink further into her each time. She didn’t cry out in pain, though she did wince when he finally settled fully into her.

Hvitserk moaned into her throat, dropping down on her, one arm curling around her head to find her hair as he leaned on his forearm, taking some weight off her. She felt so good around him. He allowed her to relax into it. Her fingers found his free hand and entwined with his, giving them a squeeze.

Hvitserk rocked against her and she groaned softly. He kissed her throat as he rode her. She was enjoying it, her fingers squeezing his as she arched her hips up to meet his own. Hvitserk didn’t last long, he knew he wouldn’t. When her walls clamped down on him, Hvitserk had grunted out a curse and rode her hard to chase his end.

She whimpered beneath him, her nails leaving imprints on his back.

He collapsed atop her, his sweaty body sticking to hers as they dried from their time in the river. He leaned back enough that he could kiss her gently, his fingers massaging her scalp and coming to her throat. “I am damned, woman.”

She giggled beneath him, moaning softly as he rocked himself against her. “We both are, Hvitserk.”

He snuggled into the woman beneath him. Content for the first time he’d been in quite some time.

Hvitserk was certainly damned, and he knew it. One night with Elen, it would never be enough. It came as a surprise when his fellow monks rose that morning to find Aethelstan’s things gone. A crude note was left, explaining he would prefer to finish his pilgrimage alone and would venture from Mercia to Wales.

What they didn’t know, wouldn’t hurt them, for Hvitserk didn’t journey alone. His water nymph followed him deep into the west of Wales towards the sea, never to be heard from again.

#youbloodymadgenius1kcelebration #smut #fanfiction #prompt #fanfic #angst #nudity #hvitserk #vikings #aethelstan #hvitserk monk #monk hvitserk #hvitserk vikings #promptpiece #hvitserk x oc #hvitserk x

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missmentelle · 3 years

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Hi MM/Bee! I'm a recent college graduate. I always worked hard in school and I matured a lot at college, but I'm realizing how low my self-esteem is. I'm obsessing over the things I haven't done/accomplished, scholarships I never applied for, my body image, my high school days, "not being as successful as my high school class", an old crush who I never talked to (who is already super successful), and some days I feel like I messed up my life beyond repair. How do I work on self-love? Thank you!

For starters, I think it’s important for you to know that you aren’t the only person feeling this way. I get similar questions all the time, often from people who aren’t even out of their 20s yet. It isn’t even remotely true that you need to achieve wild success by age 25 or you’ve wasted your life, but I can understand why so many people feel that way.

Our culture is dangerously obsessed with productivity, youth and achievement, to the point that it is actively making all of our lives miserable. It’s not hard to understand where people get this idea that they’re failing in life if they aren’t a 20-something well-travelled millionaire - that is the message our culture throws in our faces all the time - and it’s so unbelievably untrue. We compile “top 30 under 30″ lists, celebrate incredibly young performers and entertainers, and hold up extremely high-achieving lifestyles as something that every one of us needs to be striving for, but we don’t - there is no timeline for “success”, there is no one true definition of success, and people will take wildly different paths in life to arrive at the same set of goals. What you think of as your failure is not actually your failure - it’s a cultural failure that so many of us fall victim to.

I think it’s also important to remember that you haven’t messed up your life beyond repair: you’ve barely started your life yet. Your college years are supposed to be a time of growing and maturing, and that maturation doesn’t end the moment you cross the stage - you’re going to continue to learn and change and grow throughout your lifespan. And growth means you are always going to mess some stuff up - that’s how we grow. All of us have to make mistakes in this life, and all of us have to prioritize rest sometimes; there are always going to be tests we don’t do so great on, social situations we flub, scholarships we don’t apply for, crushes we don’t confess to, deadlines we miss, relationships we let fall apart and goals we don’t achieve. Nobody speedruns life with 100% completion. And that’s okay. Those missteps and mistakes are what teach us to do better next time, or they give us the time to rest and gather energy for the next goal we want to work toward.

Of course, learning to accept yourself and let go of cultural conditioning is easier said than done. For many of us, it’s a lifelong journey, if not the overarching theme of our lives. I wish there was a simple way to achieve it. I do, however, have some tips that can help you get there:

Unplug from productivity and self-improvement culture. Going online and seeing “Shakespeare wrote King Lear in quarantine, here’s how to maximize your quarantine time” and “here’s how I became a millionaire by age 22″ is not actually that motivating - in all likelihood, it’ll just make you feel bad about yourself. The internet is an absolute firehose of content about how you can do more, achieve more, squeeze more out of your day, and it’s completely overwhelming; honestly, most of us feel better when we stop pointing that firehose straight at our own face. It’s easier to believe that you are enough when you stop consuming content that tells you that you aren’t. Self-improvement culture looks positive on the surface, but we aren’t actually making ourselves better people by obsessing over our work and productivity - we’re just making ourselves miserable.

Ask yourself “who benefits from making me feel bad about myself?” It’s not a coincidence that we’ve built a culture obsessed with youth and productivity - that culture is making a lot of people very, very rich. Whenever you can be convinced that you aren’t thin enough, not pretty enough, not good enough, you can be convinced to run out and buy things that might fix the problem. That’s how we ended up with a $10 billion dollar self-improvement industry and a $532 billion dollar beauty industry. Content people are harder to sell to. Of course, knowing that people are profiting off your insecurities doesn’t magically make the insecurities go away - but it’s important to start thinking critically and asking yourself “where do my insecurities come from? Is there really something wrong with me, or is someone profiting from making people like me feel this way?”

Do things that make you happy, just for the sake of doing them. Paint a picture. Plant a garden. Learn to play the mandolin. Read cheesy romance novels. Find some things that you enjoy doing just for you - things that you don’t need to maximize, monetize or optimize. You don’t even need to be good at them. If you enjoy doing it, have at it. So many of us are encouraged to suck the joy out of our hobbies by turning them into a “side hustle” or another regimented form of self-improvement. Find some activities that just make your life better and do them, just for the sake of doing them.

Examine the role of social media in your life. Most of us don’t post a complete, unedited view of our lives on social media - we just post the highlights and keep the tough stuff - the rejections, the times we got ghosted, the bad hair days - to ourselves. And even if you know that cognitively, it still sucks to log onto social media when you’re having a “blah” week and find yourself bombarded with other people’s engagement announcements, med school acceptances, wedding pictures and photos of the new homes people just bought. Social media forces you to compare your “average” to everyone else’s “best”, all the time. And the numbers don’t help - social media lets you do an exact comparison of how many followers and likes you have compared to someone else, and seeing someone get more positive feedback than you can sting. Working on self-love means taking a hard look at the impact social media is having on your self-esteem. How much of your time do you spend on social media? How do you feel after you use social media? Are you following accounts that make you feel better about yourself, or worse? Do you ever feel bad about the number of likes or followers you have? Do you feel like your time on social media is wasted? Do you follow accounts that make you feel better about yourself, or worse? Stepping away from social media for your mental health is an important move for some people - you can still be happy for your friends and loved ones while acknowledging that it’s not good for you to have their achievements broadcast to you 24/7.

Surround yourself with good, supportive people. If you find that your circle of friends tends to diminish each other’s achievements, be overly critical of each other or go out of their way to one-up each other, that’s probably not a circle of friends that’s going to be good for you in the long run. Find people who are genuinely happy for you, and make you feel supported and loved for who you are. If that means you need to branch out of your current social circles, that’s okay - you can find great friends in surprising places, and it’s worth the initial awkwardness of getting to know a new person.

Challenge your definition of “success”. Success does not have to look like a high-paying job and a giant house and expensive cars and 2.5 honour roll children. It certainly can look that way, if you feel that those are meaningful goals for you, but it doesn’t have to look that way. A doctor is not necessarily “more successful” than a poet, and a lawyer is not necessarily “more successful” than a stay-at-home parent. The only person who gets to define what a “successful” life looks like is you. It takes time to unlearn the social conditioning that “money and prestige = success”, but it can be done. Success looks different for all of us.

Set goals that are personally meaningful to you. It’s important for all of us to think critically about what we want, and it’s even more important to think critically about why we want it. Do we want that degree program or that accomplishment or that job because it aligns with our interests? To impress others? To prove someone wrong? Or because we feel like we’re supposed to want it? Try to focus your energy on the goals that you want, that are personally meaningful to you. If that’s law school, great. If that’s selling homemade jam at the farmer’s market, that is equally great.

Remember that success does not have a deadline. I know this is very hard to believe in your early twenties, but your dreams do not shrivel up and blow away the day you turn 30. Life doesn’t end when your 20s are over. You haven’t missed your shot, and you don’t have to figure everything out right now. Growth and achievement are lifelong journeys - people find their dream jobs, accomplish their goals, finish degrees and meet the love of their life in their 40s, 50s, 60s and beyond. The best book I read this year was “Where the Crawdads Sing” a novel that spent 32 weeks on the New York Times bestseller list. It also happened to be the author’s first novel, and it came out when she was sixty-nine years old. Your dreams do not have an expiration date.

Capture the joy and positivity in your life. I think one of the most important ways to feel better about your life is to spend more time focusing on all the good things in your life, rather than focusing on all the ways you could be better. Rather than fixating on whether you could have applied for more scholarships or turned that B+ into an A-, spend more time reflecting on the happy memories you have of your time in college. Again, this isn’t something that will happen overnight - it’s a learned skill that you need to consciously work on. Interrupt yourself when you are starting to fixate on things you could have done better, and make yourself list out three things you enjoyed about college. Connect with old college friends you haven’t heard from in a while. Try to take more notice of good things in your life as they happen to you - take more pictures, keep a journal, make collages, start a scrapbook, keep a box of momentos. You don’t need to have a perfect life to be happy; it’s okay to work on being happy with the life you have.

Best of luck to you! MM

#Anonymous #AnsweredByMM #askmissmentelle

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secretlyatargaryen · 4 years

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I’ve seen some posts about Toph’s “internalized misogyny” and zero acknowledgements that Toph is a disabled girl and that that entirely informs her performance of gender. Toph’s relationship to femininity is also informed by her parents’ emotional abuse, because as a wealthy girl whose parents saw her as helpless because of her disability, she was expected to be delicate and feminine and a “lady” and seen as capable of little else. She specifically says that she chose to leave polite society and “proper” behavior behind, not because she thinks being a girl is weak or stupid but because she was stifled by the life her parents wanted her to lead, a life where she had no say. She does clash with Katara, one of the most feminine characters, and often seems more comfortable with the boys in the group, but her conflict with Katara is over her difficulty in accepting help from others more than anything, not about a disdain for femininity. She chafes at Katara’s mothering behavior but also clearly misses her own mother, and wishes that her mother, in particular, could see and appreciate her for who she truly is.

If we want to see how Toph views femininity, the best place to look is in the episode “Tales of Ba Sing Se.” Katara and Toph’s segment is short and exists mostly as a fun little filler, but it does tell us some very interesting things about how Toph views herself as a disabled girl. This segment spoke to me in particular as a woman with a visual impairment who struggled similarly with performative femininity as a girl. My aunt also went blind young and I see a lot of her in Toph as well.

The segment begins by poking fun at Toph as a “one of the boys” type of girl who doesn’t think she needs to clean herself up, and Katara is positioned as the “girly girl” whose idea of fun is a spa day. Toph doesn’t think that sounds like fun and it’s easy to dismiss this as internalized misogyny, but putting aside the fact that disliking things associated with compulsory femininity is not the same thing as disliking women - women (and girls) should be allowed to not want to do certain things without being accused of internalized misogyny - Toph’s objection to this becomes less about the fact that it’s feminine when you actually pay attention to what she says.

Toph: The Fancy Lady Day Spa? [Sarcastically.] Sounds like my kinda place.

Katara: Are you ready for some serious pampering?

Toph: Sure, Katara, whatever you say. As long as they don't touch my feet.

The very next scene is Toph looking incredibly uncomfortable as the spa attendants touch her feet. This is played for laughs, because Toph is a girl who doesn’t care about getting her feet dirty, but remember that Toph’s feet are her way of interacting with the world. She specifically said that she didn’t want her feet touched, and was ignored. I’m not saying that Katara or anyone is awful for forcing this on her, I’m saying that this is simply just not something she is going to enjoy. She consents to it anyway because Katara is her friend, and she does genuinely end up enjoying the rest of the spa day and makes an effort because Katara wants her to.

Toph: Well, that wasn't so bad. I'm not usually into that stuff but I actually feel ... girly.

Katara: I'm glad. It's about time we did something fun together.

Cut to a shot of the two crossing a bridge over a creek. As they do, they pass three girls going the other direction. Shot cuts to Katara and Toph from behind the girls.

Girl with umbrella: Wow, great make-up.

Toph: Thanks.

Girl with umbrella: For a clown!

The three girls laugh, Toph's smile is replaced by a frown as she and Katara stop walking. Katara puts her arm over Toph's shoulder, attempting to console her.

This scene actually made me go still when I watched it because I don’t think I’ve ever seen my experience with makeup addressed in a show like this. Toph admits that this is not something she is used to but she does enjoy feeling “girly” for once, and she also enjoys being complemented on her appearance, until she realizes that she’s being made fun of. This is when we see a side of Toph that we are rarely privy to, the more vulnerable side of her who can be hurt by the words of others. Specifically, a group of older girls. This tells us that despite Toph’s choice to discard compulsory femininity, underneath there is a deep insecurity at her ability to measure up.

And maybe you can’t realize this unless you actually have lived with a visual impairment, but what this scene highlights is that Toph can’t actually see what she looks like, with or without makeup. Being made up like this is a privilege for her, and one she can only experience through other people. So she can be happy about it when she’s with her friend, or when other girls compliment her, but when other girls insult her, she feels deeply the rejection. She can’t feel empowered the way that I see people talk about makeup culture being empowering, because she can only view herself through the eyes of others. I’m not saying that people with visual impairments can’t ever enjoy makeup or can’t wear it for themselves, and I myself enjoy makeup, but I also specifically relate to Toph’s feelings about it and how hard it is for her.

Katara: Don't listen to them, let's just keep walking.

Shot cuts to the face of Star, who is one of the three girls.

Star: I think she looks cute. Like that time we put a sweater on your pet poodle monkey.

Third girl: Good one, Star.

Katara: [Angrily.] Let's go, Toph.

This is just...so awfully dehumanizing. Anyone who sees Toph can immediately tell that she is visibly disabled, that she’s different. She can’t pass as able bodied and her performance of femininity reflects that. Even when she is made up and looking hyper-feminine, it’s obvious that this isn’t how she looks all the time. It’s also obvious that she didn’t do her own makeup as she has a very “professionally done” look in this scene. The girls who pick on Toph do so because she’s a very obvious target, a disabled girl who is clearly uncertain about her performance of femininity.

Katara: Those girls don't know what they're talking about.

Toph: It's okay. One of the good things about being blind is I don't have to waste my time worrying about appearance. [Cut to a close-up of Toph's face.] I don't care what I look like. I'm not looking for anyone's approval. I know who I am. [She stops walking, and she cries a bit.]

Katara: That's what I really admire about you, Toph. You're so strong, and confident, and self-assured. [Toph sniffs.] And I know it doesn't matter, but ... [Keeps her palm on Toph's shoulder.] You're really pretty.

Toph: [Turning to Katara, smiling.] I am?

Katara: Yeah, you are.

Toph: I'd return the compliment, but I have no idea what you look like. [Katara laughs.] Thank you, Katara.

The segment ends not with Toph rejecting the spa day or femininity, but an acknowledgment of both her strength in choosing to be her own person and her vulnerability because Toph is, at the end of the day, a girl, who has lived all her life with the pressures of compulsory femininity, pressures that for most of her life were imposed upon her without any say, because her parents treated her like she had no say in her own life. Toph also is happy to be called pretty by Katara, and makes a joke about not being able to return the compliment, a reminder that “pretty” is something that can’t mean the same thing to Toph as it does to other people because she can’t see. Toph isn’t going to experience being a girl the same way that other people do. And that’s okay.

#avatar the last airbender #atla #toph #atla meta #toph beifong #ableism #misogyny #tales of ba sing se #katara

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demenior · 3 years

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Dem’s Big Post About The Spn Fics Part 1/2

aka The Wrap Up to celebrate To Exist Again and To Become a Man now being finished!

(This will be a long post. This is your only warning.)

Admittedly this is a bit of a weird thing to be doing, but I wanted to try it out for 3 reasons:

I love talking about my own work and

It functions really well as a self-reflective tool for me to improve on, and

I can answer some big questions people might have because there was a LOT of worldbuilding in these stories.

We’ll start off with reflective stuff, and move into the juicier world-building focused stuff later into the post. There will be major spoilers for both fics to come!

To begin with a funny anecdote, Why Did I Write These Stories?

I was beginning to write and work out the story that I wanted to write for Spn (what will now be To Destroy a Man. As I was writing the scene, I realized I had a LOT of ideas and while I was trying to avoid as much exposition as I could, it became quickly apparent that I was needing to create my own au (this scene eventually became chapter 34 of To Become a Man). A short prequel seemed like a good idea, to quickly hash out the ‘prior’ events that I needed to go through so all the readers could be on the same page. While plotting out prequel points, I realized Sam and Dean were going to have drastically different experiences during the same time period, and I was trying to figure out who’s pov would be better for which scenes, and how to keep momentum when they’re going through such radically different types of changes. Ultimately I decided to split their povs, which I also thought would be a fun project! And I naively assumed each pov would take about 2 chapters each, rounding out to maybe 15k total.

I had my ending points: Dean n Cas soul-merged and (basically) married, Cas on the lam from heaven and a complete anomaly, and Sam juiced up full of powers and a weird mix of archangel and antichrist but still 100% human and ready to fight God.

Now I needed to add weight to these changes, so I wrote 200k of build-up.

Am I proud of these fics?

OF COURSE I AM!!! These are the longest fics I’ve ever written AND finished AND in the fastest freakin turnaround ever (both were finished writing, barring edits, in like 6 months holy shit)

I didn’t write a single scene that I “didn’t” want to write. If I had trouble writing it, as in it was fighting me, I scrapped it. Most obviously was the scene in Dean’s pov where he and Sam were intended to meet some other hunters and Dean declines working with them because he’s nervous about being outed as queer. It was meant to be a good scene! I wanted to introduce some new characters! But it just wasn’t working so I said ‘thank you, next!’.

But it means this story was an absolute joy to write. Because for a while all I was doing was ‘if I wanted to write one scene into supernatural, what would I write?’ and then just DID that!! It’s why there’s a lot of ‘Salmondean do dumb shit or have really dumb heartfelt conversations’ scenes.

Would I change anything?

If I’d been less eager to start sharing, I might have planned out the story beats a little tighter so there were less ‘soft’ chapters and a draw/pull for people to come back and keep reading. I felt Dean’s story specifically lagged at points and could have used some tighter editing (there was a noticeable lull in directed movement between Dean n Cas getting together, until Sam corrupts Amy).

I also probably would have held Sam’s story until I’d finished Dean’s so I could make the two line up better! Probably could have inserted more scenes into Sam’s fic that way, and made sure things were a little more consistent. In an ideal world one concept I had was to release 1 chapter from each pov every week that would correspond to the same time frame so we’d be getting real-time SalmonDean pov narrative. Unfortunately that didn’t work!

The biggest takeaway overall is for me to focus more on what moves the plot, and to make my scenes do more than 1 thing so I can cut down on wordcount and increase my efficiency.

Of course every writer will find things they want to fix in anything they’ve ever written, so these are minor “mistakes” at best. I’m so dang proud of these fics.

Onto more interesting things!

How Did I Put These Fics Together (because it’s different than anything I’ve ever done before)

Normally when I write a story, I plan out the beats I need to hit, see where I need to insert any kind of foreshadowing/buildup, and then write from A to B to C and so on and so forth. Hence, this is why I can normally post things as I complete chapters, because it’s all a linear progression.

For these two stories, rather than linear plot/a normal story structure, I just sat and free-wrote any and every scene that came to mind and then pieced them into a kinda-linear form like putting a quilt together. You’ll note that this is why there’s not a lot of internal callback or a feeling of sense of time flowing within the fic (save for points where I went back and specifically edited it in). How long does the story take place over? Hard to say! Your author has the barest grasp on linear time even on a good day (how many times did I say ‘see you on [wrong day]’ at the end of chapters lmaaoooo)

This also meant EXTENSIVE editing on the back end once I decided in what order I wanted my ‘quilt pieces’ to be. Hard to say if this is a bonus or a negative!

But I did want to try and capture the vibe of the lives they lead, as a bit of a ‘slice of life’-style story, when the slice of life is the profound weirdness of the Winchester roaming life, and how things are status quo- until everyone almost dies oh shit!! And then they have to keep living because no therapy we die/undie like Winchesters. Do I think I captured this effectively? Hmm. Good question.

Dem where the FUCK did the inspiration for a lot of the magic and creature weirdness even come from?

Honestly? Music, primarily. And completely mishearing lyrics!

Nightwish ‘Ever Dream’: the line is ‘my song can but borrow you grace’ and because my brain is scrambled eggs on a good day, I heard ‘grace’ ‘song’ and ‘borrow’ in that order and have had, for YEARS, the mental image of Cas borrowing Dean’s soul to power himself up for battle.

From there I’ve always been enamored with the ‘wavelength of celestial intent’ descriptor that Cas drops in s6 for “what he is”.

I also really like ocean metaphors mostly because I’ve been obsessed with the ocean and things in it since I was like… 5??? So really this was me just rolling with what I know lmao. I love using (somewhat) accurate scientific metaphors for very intangible things!

I was also finishing my degree in biology/ecology while writing these fics and I think it shows

Stars ‘The Night Starts Here’ gives us the series title and the fic titles. Except for ‘To Exist Again’. TEA was almost titled ‘The Upwards Fall’ because I wanted all 3 of the Main Stories to have titles from this song, but I couldn’t make anything else work in tandem with the series name ‘The Love It Takes’ while also working for Sam’s personal story. So Sam, as always, is the rebel <3

Stars ‘Up In Our Bedroom, After The War’ is basically the vibes of the whole story. TFW has been, literally, to hell and back!!! There’s a bit of melancholy and sadness, a lingering dark, but the chance of a bright new tomorrow and a soft start.

Let’s Talk About Themes in The Story! What were you looking to accomplish?

My earliest notes for TFW are, as follows:

Dean’s journey of self-discovery (who am I when I’m not trying to be Dad?)

Dean wants to settle down! He wants a big family! He wants to be domestic!

Basically: Dean doesn’t want to have a short life of hunting. He wants to live!

Dean’s journey of realizing he’s bi, and him accepting that

Dean’s relationship to Sam is both older brother/parent

And continuing Dean balancing these roles while also letting Sam be an adult

Dean’s Big Issues/Fears about never being good enough for people to want to stay with him (these are effectively highlighted in that Cas thinks he’s not useful enough to be wanted)

Sub Plot:

Castiel’s autonomy

Cas’ fall from grace, to trying to restore Heaven, to wrecking it further

He’s majorly depressed by the end of s7 (before purgatory)

Wants to stay in Purgatory but doesn’t tell Dean

Remains depressed after leaving, but resolved to keep living on because he’s clearly meant for something

After the seraphim reveal: does he have free will?! How does he grapple with this? How does he live in a way he can be proud of?

And lastly

Sam gets his powers back CAUSE THATS HOT

where tf did they go????

he got them from Lucifer?????

sleeper agent??????

Sam is The Chosen One

Accepts that he is More Than Human and to celebrate all parts of him

Lucifer and Sam friends?? Work together????

Sam needs autonomy in his choices/his life

If you compare these to the overall arc of TFW within the two stories, I think I got a lot of them! But you’ll also note a lot of these things aren’t concrete goals that are easily measurable (ex: Dean wants to learn to bake pie. In chapter 1 he starts a fire in the kitchen. By the end of the story he finally makes A Good Pie.) part of the lack of concrete milestones was why I felt it was important to tell Dean (and Cas’) story by going back to the point they meet, in s4! Dean’s gradual change towards his feelings for Cas, his relationship to Sam (heavily influenced by the s7 events of this fic) and then his own relationship with himself were such slow burns that I felt it would be a disservice to try and cram a change like that into a timeline like “1 year”.

I felt like these subtle changes and adjustments actually felt a lot truer to life-- people often change in very small, gradual ways over time, even without realizing it and often times not consistently! If only we could all gain skills like the sims, where we can easily level up and remain at that high level of performance!

So the Guy Who Ate Satan, A Celestial Nuke that Developed Sentience, and Dean walk into a bar…

Sam’s story in Spn The Show has always been a ‘chosen one’ kind of narrative. Sam is living with one foot in the realm of the monsters, and I wanted to bring that back full force! It really makes sense for him that he should only continue to grow in power, might, and magic!! As the story progresses.

Cas also got a power up! I do desperately love in the show that he was kind of a grunt/nothing angel, and so even when he defected to TFW he was a huge help for them, but in the scale of things he was an annoying fly to most other angels. It really worked for the underdog story of s4/5. In this I wanted to give him a power up, and originally it was actually going to be close contact with Sam that eventually changed Cas into something unknown (you can still see traces of this in ch34 of TBAM, where Death remarks ‘Castiel could be [Sam’s] first creation’. But for a combo of reasons: how Sam’s magic needed to have intent, the entire concept of free will and consent, and how much I wanted Dean and Cas to have their effect on each other, I decided to go with the route that Cas has actually always been something angel-adjacent rather than becoming something new. TFW/Supernatural has always been about free will and making your own story, so I amplified that with Cas.

Dean has always been A Normal Guy, which is part of the appeal of him and Sam (2 normal dudes!) taking on the Very Not Normal. As explained above, Sam’s story is ‘normal guy finds out he’s the chosen one’ and so, in a story about very large concepts and huge monsters and acts of magic, I felt it was very important to keep Dean as normal as possible. To the point it became a running gag to me, personally, in that ‘no matter what cool shit happens around him, Dean has to stay as Just A Guy’. And it’s a very humanizing role that allows the story to have the scale it does!

What were the most important themes in your story?

Sam’s Autonomy

I wasn’t even going to include the plot about Lucifer’s death in this story— that was going to come up in a later story, actually! And rather than Sam having ate Lucifer, the original idea was that they’d become a SamandLucifer entity (this harkens back to a concept I wanted to write when Swan Song first aired).

That storyline would have involved a lot of mental ‘Sam and Lucifer discuss what it means to live, which one of them is more worthy of life and if they do deserve to destroy the world for the pain they’ve been forced to go through, just to create the dichotomy of good and evil for everyone else’ discussions. There would be a lot of talk about how Sam hates and fears Lucifer for the pain Lucifer put on Sam, how Lucifer hates Sam because he and Sam are the same but Sam’s brother loves him anyways, etc.

Ultimately that was scrapped because Sam’s entire story in the show is always about how the world and everyone around him manipulates him and that he never actually gets to make choices about his own life or body that aren’t influenced or part of someone elses’ design. And that always bothered me that Sam was never allowed to be himself without having to be ashamed of it, and I wanted to make sure that Sam’s triumph of being proud of himself/proudly choosing to exist (again) was evident in his story

In the end I needed Sam to have this visceral win over his tormentor. As the story shows, in this case Lucifer was abused and put into a position where he was incapable of empathy and could only express himself in violence. Sam even understands this! But it doesn’t change the fact that Lucifer tortured Sam in unimaginable ways for thousands of years.

With that in mind I didn’t like the idea of Lucifer and Sam having “co-ownership” of their new identity, so I made the choice that Sam had to be the survivor. This tied in well with Sam’s new crusade to restore free will to the universe, because he’s breaking the narrative of his own story!

While Castiel wasn’t a pov character, his own autonomy and free will was equally as important. You’ll note that many, many paragraphs and conversations revolved around that theme and that in the end Cas followed himself (and love!) which ensured his freedom of self <3

The Brothers are WEIRD PEOPLE!!!! And Codependent to a Worrying Degree, but It’s Also How They Survive

It’s very hard to show “unusual” relationships when you’re writing from the pov of the two people who don’t think there’s anything weird about their relationship. Sure, they say ‘yeah it’s probably weird that we still share a bed’ but that’s kinda more in line with ‘I had a nightmare and I want to be close to the person who makes me feel safe’. Hashtag normalize co-sleeping when you need it!!!

From there I did try to point out how the boys have a weird perception of lifestyle in the little things they did.

From thrifting everything from clothes to appliances to books (thrifting is a valid lifestyle! It’s incredibly handy when you’re on a budget.)

To never actually having condiments or knowing how to use a dishwasher cause they’ve lived in a car, a motel room, or squatted in old houses their whole life.

I tried to have them wear each others’ clothes or casually swap things as much as possible. They live out of each others’ pockets!

Also the brothers are just weird people!! It’s hard to show from their pov, cause they don’t know how far off from normal they are, but like…

Everything about Sam and Amelia was NOT right like holy shit those two were wilding in their grief. They are very lucky things worked out for them and that they got to be hashtag Weird Girls together

Dean explicitly, in the story, gets horny after killing stuff!! Violence has done a number on his psyche and he’s gotten some wires crossed that maybe shouldn’t have been, or maybe could be worked out in a safe space but… uh… how likely do we think Dean is gonna go find a safe space to deal with any of his shit???

LOVE!!! Love is truly what this whole story is all about

If you’ve read the stories, you know how much emphasis I put on love. Love is the strongest force in the Spn Universe! It’s what averted the apocalypse and saved the world (Swan Song), it’s what created free will (Cas’ entire arc!) I love love!!!!

I went out of my way to not put any definitions on platonic love vs romantic love because I think love is love is love and how you express that is the difference. Neither is more powerful than the other because LOVE is powerful!! Sam and Cas are the most important people in Dean’s life and he loves them equally! He shows this by giving Cas kisses and stealing Sam’s socks.

It’s a personal pet peeve of mine when I have to hear explanations like ‘I love you, like a brother’ or ‘I love you, but like, as a friend because I’m a lesbian and you’re a man’ etc etc in media. If you have to continuously define how your characters love each other, then I don’t think you’re doing a good job of portraying their relationship. So you’ll see that I never put those parameters in any conversation. Dean DOES muse that he loves Cas differently than he loves Sam or Bobby, specifically because there is a romantic and sexual tone that his feelings for Cas takes, but not because he loves Cas more or less than he loves Sam or Bobby.

Which means, if you haven’t realized it yet, the Series + Fic Titles are meant to be a complete sentence because the power of love IS the thesis of this series:

The Love It Takes To Exist Again (Sam’s journey!)

The Love It Takes To Become a Man (Dean’s journey!)

The Love It Takes To Destroy a Man (TBA)

And now for fun stuff. Behind the scenes!!

What’s Something People Probably Don’t Know?

The demonic fungal/hydrothermal vent growth on Sam’s arm was thrown in literally as I was posting the chapter because I had just finished a 48 hour cram session of writing a report on tube worms for an ecology class (I was chanting my tube worm song as I wrote it) and it ended up being a HUGE hit with both readers and myself. But it was so last minute I had trouble fitting it in more throughout the rest of Sam’s story!

Cas’ orders? That may or may not have bound him to Dean and removed his free will? Were written into Sam’s story and I went ‘oh SHIT that’s compelling’ and then left them there as a ‘guess I’ll figure that out when I get to Dean’s story lol’

Originally Dean and Cas were supposed to get together after having their souls bonded, and have been in a UST limbo the entire time before that. Mostly because I think the entire concept of ‘we just got married of the soul I guess we should try dating?’ is very funny. CLEARLY the two of them were way more eager to fall in love than I anticipated (thank you Cas for your honesty) but you can still see shades of this original idea here and there (especially in ch35 of TBAM)

I never intended Dean and Benny to connect so well!! Benny was going to reunite with Andrea, she was going to live, and they were going to go off into the world and leave the story. And, uh, here we are. I’m still debating if I need to adjust the relationship tag or not haha. Polyamory is fun, especially when I was planning for Sam to be the polyamorous brother...

Speaking of, I can’t believe I forgot about Sam and his sexuality! If I rewrote TEA I would have had Sam contemplate more on his lack of sexual appetite due to trauma, up until he meets Benny and he gets to rediscover how he wants to be a sexual person

Many of Sam and Dean’s absolutely stupid sibling conversations were lifted near-verbatim from conversations I’ve had with my siblings

And lastly...

Dem where’s Kevin????????????? Where is our sweet baby boy????????

He’s SAFE!! He’s in the Hunter pipeline somewhere cause Sam handed him off to Bobby’s people. He and his mom are safe and at some point they probably got rib sigils like SalmonDean did against angels, but for demons. I didn’t have room in this story for him!!! But my baby boy is SAFE and I want to get him back to university because it’s WHAT HE DESERVES!!!!

To that point: god there were/are SO many characters that I just didn’t include in the story so far because I didn’t feel comfortable including them without stalling the story for them. To that point: pretty much everyone who is alive/dead in s8 is that way in this story, except Bobby who gets to live.

[Check Out Part 2 for reader questions!]

#the love it takes series #to exist again fic #to become a man fic #dem speaks

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