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textfromthelookout · 1 year

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if you have the time, I wanna know what makes vegeta so compelling to you, whole ass character arc stuff and what not. I wanna hear you go off on your short king.

Anon do you understand what you’ve unleashed? I don’t think you understand what you’ve unleashed. Or if you do understand, I can almost guarantee you aren’t prepared. This is almost 3000 words of me frothing at the mouth. I hope you know you asked for this. Like the reason I was so late answering was because I wanted to do it justice and could not figure out what I wanted to yell about first.

I guess to understand why Vegeta’s development is so fucking staggering to me, you have to understand who he starts as when you meet him.

Vegeta is around 4 or 5 when Freeza destroys Vegetasei. He’s roughly 30 when he comes to Earth for immortality. In between are two and a half decades of being taken from, which he suffers only because he believes wholeheartedly that he will grow strong enough to kill Freeza and take it all back from him. He lands on Earth with little to his name beyond his pride in who and what he is, and power that, while paltry compared to Freeza and the people in his inner circle, surpassed and still surpasses every member of his race.

Right?

One of the biggest things about Vegeta in Z is that there is A Way Things Are Supposed To Go and when they go any other way, he cannot let it go. Losing to anybody other than the people he has known for years can kill him is unacceptable. Even more so if it’s to another Saiyan. Even more so when this Saiyan is such a disgrace to the blood in his veins. The loss is an impossibility and has to be rectified. Vegeta limps off of Earth with two big driving forces now: kill Freeza for vengeance, kill Kakarot to mend his pride (or at least beat him so far into the ground that his superiority is unquestionable).

Namek is where Vegeta gets really interesting. He’s fresh off a stinging defeat that put a couple cracks into his sense of certainty and self. He knows a way to get what he wants (the Dragon Balls on Namek). He’s in a race against the powers that be for it. He has something of an ace in the hole in that he worked out how to sense ki while he was flying half dead through space, so he’s no longer forced to rely on a scouter—on Freeza’s technology. He intends to make a clean break, and for a while it goes according to plan. Zarbon’s a stumbling block, but he makes it work in his favor, takes all the Dragon Balls Freeza collected and escapes with his life to boot.

And then another repeating theme surrounding Vegeta in Z comes into play. He’ll be a hairsbreadth from getting everything he wants before it all comes crashing down around him, largely due to things entirely outside his control. He couldn’t have used the Dragon Balls even if he had decided to press Gohan on what he was doing in the middle of nowhere with a ‘watch’, because he doesn’t have a password. The Ginyu Force thrashes him, Goku shows up stronger than ever. It’s fine though, because now he knows how to get the Dragon Balls to work, so he’ll never suffer defeat again—it’s a moot point.

…Right?

I think that the point in the story where Vegeta well and truly starts to come unraveled as a person is pretty immediately after Porunga dies and Freeza starts cycling through his transformations. Because like, rudimentary or no, Vegeta’s ki-sensing ability still works. He’s suddenly faced with irrefutable proof, that he can feel in the entire essence of his being, that his power is nothing to Freeza. And he lies to himself, because he can’t accept that he’s outclassed by the magnitude he is. Because this isn’t The Way Things Are Supposed To Go. He’s supposed to avenge his people and embody the legend. He refuses to bend, and so, he breaks.

And it’s sad, y’know? The way he just… stops fighting. For his whole life, he sweats and bleeds and swallows his bruised pride for the sake of survival and hope and what does it get him? I think all the goddamn time about the anime’s interpretation of this, where Vegeta being broken for Piccolo/Gohan/Krillin to witness up close is a deliberate choice on Freeza’s part*. In fact, I may never stop thinking about it. It’s not enough that Vegeta loses his will to fight, he has to know that others know that he gave up, that he can’t do anything against this monster even if he hadn’t. It’s a stunningly cruel blow precisely because he’s so proud and strong.

The man who dies on Namek crying at the feet of both of his bitterest enemies, begging one of them to kill the other for the sake of their race—who in that final moment lets his helpless frustration, his grief, his pride in his people supersede his own personal pride as warrior and prince—is not the same man who fought Goku on Earth. That man is in pieces, and Vegeta will spend every moment for years afterward trying to put him back together with saltwater and desperation. We meme on how death means basically nothing in Dragon Ball, but I go nuts thinking about how, intentionally or not, Toriyama managed to twist that to work with Vegeta’s development.

Because now Vegeta has to reckon with his many abject failures for longer than the few minutes before sweet oblivion, you see. Now it all matters again. As long as he’s alive, he’s still being taken from.

(Bulma’s one of the few—if not the only—person to simply give him something without coercion, or prompting, or obligation. Certainly the first we see. She had every reason to tell him to fuck off, really. She didn’t have to offer him a place to stay.)

Vegeta has a transitive hierarchical logic on strength, which comes up again towards the end of Cell that I’ll touch on when we get there, but for now it will suffice to say that in order to keep moving forward, he has to readjust his purpose in life to focus solely on beating Goku. If he beats Goku, then he beats Freeza, since Goku beat Freeza. Step one, obviously, is attaining Super Saiyan. And he’s so fucking committed to that that he unwittingly locks himself out of it, up until he leaves partway through the three year gap before the androids.

I could write another entire essay on how Super Saiyan can be read as a trauma response and how it differs between all the Saiyans in Cell saga (and especially about Goku on Namek), but this is surely already more than you bargained for when you opened this can of worms, so, Vegeta. When I think of Vegeta’s awakening to Super Saiyan, I tend to default to the original dub’s take (ep129), because it has lived in my head rent free since I saw it and it will not give me peace.

Take this part of my rambling with a grain of salt, I know I’m about to get a little ‘it’s not that deep’ about it, but. Here’s my interpretation of this. Vegeta only attains Super Saiyan once he has done away with distractions—not entirely because now he can focus on nothing but his training, but because he’s inadvertently given himself space to even begin to process all the shit from the last 25 years of his life, even if he fights it every step of the way as weakness. All the self-hatred, yes, but also the aforementioned frustration, the grief, the anger. The helplessness. ‘I didn’t care if I lived. I didn’t care about anything.’

Ultimately the trigger to Super Saiyan is a single moment of all-consuming emotion, so whichever thread of canon you personally subscribe to, the facts are that something happened in Vegeta out there in the middle of nowhere space. And he returns to Earth riding high. I’m not gonna lie, he’s rocking some seriously manic energy when he shows up to waste Android 19, and honestly why wouldn’t he be? He’s latched onto this new power and he doesn’t have to feel anything else. Things are finally going right. He’s invincible. He’s the king again. This is The Way Things Are Supposed To Go.

…

…right?

Super Saiyan is supposed to be a solution for Vegeta, and instead it eventually turns itself into a problem during Cell and the androids. To be fair, he can’t misestimate the strength of an opponent he can’t sense in the first place, but even so, he’s so blinded by the euphoria of succeeding for once in his goddamn life that he can’t imagine that anything can be stronger than him. Androids 17 and 18 are a rude fucking awakening. They are the ultimate pulling-the-rug-out-from-under-you vibe check. All those pieces that he struggled so hard to put back together, kicked apart again without thought or effort. He has a bit of a crisis over it, understandably.

In the interest of brevity, I’m glossing over the intermediary parts between Vegeta coming out of the time chamber (wish we had more info on what transpired in there, personally) and the tail end of the Cell saga, because it’s something of a repeat of what he did with Freeza, except he’s using Goku’s ‘let Freeza power up to 100% to hammer home his superiority’ logic. I made a previous post on my main blog about the post-Cell part of Vegeta’s character arc, which I’ll copy down here with some minor revisions:

The hell of Vegeta swearing to never fight again is that he actually follows through, at least in the beginning.

There are seven years between Cell and Buu. In every version of the media I’ve gone through—English manga, uncut dub, uncut JP, Kai dub—Bulma says that Vegeta has trained the last five years before the tournament. Which can only mean that there was a two year gap right after the Cell Games where he didn’t train at all.

And like. Can you really blame him. His purpose in life has been cut out from under him not once but twice, first by Goku attaining Super Saiyan and avenging their people by killing Freeza, and then by Goku’s decision to stay dead and deny him the opportunity to surpass him. His strength has proven insufficient time and again no matter how hard he works, overshadowed by that of a boy half his age, who doesn’t even like to fight. His pride hinges on both of those things and even before that was mercilessly trampled on. He has no people. No planet. No purpose, power, or pride.

I really do think the only things keeping him going by this point are inertia and spite. Almost without doubt, this is the absolute nadir of Vegeta’s existence: at least, the nadir for the man he thinks he has to be, or can’t reconcile not being. If he has nothing, if the last things tethering him to his supposed innate nature (to borrow a line from this fic, shameless plug,) are torn away from him, what is left for him to do but accept defeat and submit to change?

What he doesn’t know yet is that that’s okay. He doesn’t know yet, but the seven years that Goku is no longer a presence in his life is perhaps the best thing Goku could have possibly given him. Without Goku physically there to be actionable on (for lack of a better phrase), new things can grow in the spaces where his animosity and aggression burned holes in him. Even if Vegeta is still nursing the embers of that blaze and ignoring the encroaching growth as hard as he can, he is still beginning to care about things that the old him wouldn’t. (coming back to Vegeta’s logic on strength: to Vegeta, Gohan’s victory over Cell is also Goku’s victory, and Trunks’ loss is his own loss. Bulma mentions to Gohan that he’s dead set on making Trunks stronger than him, and why would Vegeta care about that goal specifically unless Trunks’ victory over Gohan is also Vegeta’s victory over Goku?)

And then.

And then all of a sudden, Goku is back in the picture. And when he comes back, so does the Vegeta from before, like a relapse.

Because as much growing as does, he still has seven years to gnaw on the same question he has been for ages now. Why is Goku so much stronger than he is, being what he is? Why is he so inadequate? There is now a window, fleeting as it may be, for Vegeta to get some answers he had no reason to assume he’d ever get. There is now the terrible possibility that he can make things go The Way They Are Supposed To Go. And Goku’s willing to let him take that shot and get those answers, right up until the whole business surrounding Buu disrupts everything and then he isn’t anymore.

Because the thing is, they were scheduled to fight each other before anybody else. Vegeta was not supposed to see the gap between himself and Goku until he was experiencing it firsthand. Picture for a minute the timeline in which the tournament plays out normally. Goku and Vegeta fight, Goku wins, and then Vegeta’s only recourse is to demand answers from Goku—who would surely give them, to the best of his ability!—or to come to his own conclusions and act from there. Either he makes peace with affairs, uneasy as it may be, or he blows up immediately, and Goku is there to stop him before he gets too out of hand. Instead, what happens is that he’s given the opportunity to realize that he’s still inferior, he still doesn’t understand why, and most importantly, that there’s a third option open to him. At the cost of his will, there is a way.

Submitting to Babidi to force Goku’s hand and close the gap is the act of a man who knows that he is running out of time. Whatever pride Vegeta still has would not possibly have allowed this unless he was so desperate for closure that he couldn’t see another way. For ten years he’s been trying to rebuild a sandcastle below the high tide line, and it’s not that he’s too stupid to move farther up so he isn’t freshly shattered at every pass—it’s just that trying to power through in the face of futility is literally all that he knows to do. He has been coming apart stitch by stitch ever since he met Goku, his worldview and his preconceptions of destiny and self dissolving in slow motion under his feet. Goku will only be here for a day. This is the last chance he has, and he knows it. He knows he’s not going to see Goku in the afterlife, even before he asks Piccolo.

What the fuck else was he supposed to do?

The music in the background of this scene is ‘Trapped Between Past and Present’ and if that doesn’t sum up the backbone of Vegeta’s arc in Z, then there’s nothing that does.

The beauty of his sacrifice is that he still has the mark of evil on his forehead when he dies, even though he’s bucked Babidi’s mind control by that point. He chooses the present. He chooses to symbolically and very literally raze his old self to the ground for the sake of all that his new self cares for. That is why the impermanence of death in Dragon Ball works for him. That’s why I go insane over the Majin arc specifically. New growth roots in ashes, phoenixes and sapling trees both.

Super (and end of Z) is where you get to luxuriate in that growth and watch it pay off, and oh my god does it ever pay off. Without going deep into spoiler territory (formally begging all of you to read the manga here), the later arcs begin to address Vegeta reckoning with his personal sins against the Namekians, and those of his race, who destroyed countless worlds under Freeza. Vegeta and Beerus have a conversation in chapter 69 of Super where things I’ve described in this here essay are worded explicitly into the canon. I think of it to this day. I think of all of the things Vegeta does in Super and I think it’s incredible just how far he’s come.

Before creation comes destruction.

Alright that’s enough pretentious meta. Here’s Vegeta being very happy about a well-earned victory. Isn’t he so fuckin’ cute.

*ep85, or 41 if you prefer Kai

#vegeta #dbz #dragon ball z #dragonball z #wanna hear me talk about dragonball characters? WANNA HEAR ME TALK ABOUT EM SOME MORE?#drop an ask or smth bc boy have I got things to say about Things.#i swear to god i didn't send this ask to myself #basia and breezee if it was one of you you better fess up right now #long post #text from the mod

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wildpeachfarm · 3 months

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for anyone spiraling rn dteam are gonna be absolutely fine. we have loads of evidence that they are good people fighting to grow learn change and create better online spaces for all and in fact did not commit any crime, all of their "sins" are very basic average mistakes i see on the daily. anyone saying they will lose their platform or careers are outright insane.

thing is, this situation will be resolved no matter what twitter is screeching about. real world does not work by twitter rules. its a sad fact but right now confirmed abusers, assaulters, etc have multimillion careers to this day, years after their crimes were found out and widely documented

to compare and say that human garbage like that can have careers but dteam who have done nothing even close to that deserve to lose theirs? insanity

the fact wilbur can walk away whistling with a shit non-apology after physically emotionally and financially abusing shelby and multiple other women and still perform while george is being treated way worse than wilbur ever was for a single hand on the waist that he then apologized for twice is complete batshit behavior and genuinely disgusting and a spit in the face to all SA survivors

i've already read multiple accounts from SA survivors being very much enraged by this situation in favor of george, many of them called it an outright insult and mockery of what happened to them, some if them even firmly denied that caiti speaks for them in any way.

take that as you will but this is what i saw happening in multiple spaces from other twitter communities, discord servers, reddits etc that i have access to

for the drummyache crowd <3

thank you anon this was very nice of you to write up so everyone can see different non-twitter perspectives of the situation

#ask #anon

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nightswithkookmin · 1 year

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Not being jealous or mean I'm truly an ot7 army. but i noticed theres a diff in how media treats each member individually. like the amount of media coverage both kmedia and international jimin got from dior and now tiffany&co from the announcement of his new ambassadorship alone is insane 😭 and mind you, theres wasnt that hype with hobi (LV) or yoongi (valentino).I got sad when some armys legit didn't know about yoongis deal.myself knew about taes new ambassadorship after two days when I logged on twitter and it's was until I checked ot7 accs.other platforms were silent about it.so I was asking do you think it's true what some people say about media favoring jimin more?..I'm not a hater but I want to understand how this things work.because some members who I would think would make the noise are not,! jimin is making so much noise and its kinda unfair for my ot7 heart,because this whole solo era just made me think if jimin decides to leave the group his popularity will skyrocket even more cause it's like he has hidden fans not only army fandom and im selfish.

Okay... let me break it down like this

The Hyung line in general don't have as much traction as the Maknae line in BTS. It's not shade that's just the way things work in kpop- save for a few instances.

With Jimin being part of the Maknae line you should understand he is not comparable to anyone in the hyung line. He naturally will garner more attention than anyone in the Hyung line. He is Maknae too.

When it comes to the Maknae line, Jungkook being the youngest gets a lot of traction for the sheer sake of it. He's the Golden Maknae. The youngest in any group tend to get this level of traction and attention naturally- again save for few instances.

Wait. Hold up. Unfair for Jimin to get this attention?

I'm gonna ignore that and carry on with the post 😒

The media does not favor JM more it's just Jimin treats the media with more grace than the others- Suga calls out the media, Tae claps back at them, Namjoon makes snarky remakes about the media to their face. Jungkook just wants punch them in the face.

The media is not their friend. Do you see the crap they report about BTS? Do you see the headlines? They are assholes. Especially kmedia with their creepy asses.

When you say they are favoring Jimin all I can think about is the hosanna before his crucifixion.

Okay the last part made me smile 😃

The part you said JM has hidden fans made me melt won't lie🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭

Good good, let's continue this conversation cos I was about to pull your edges off thinking you was an anti in disguise 😆

As I was saying, the hyung line has less social traction compared to the maknae line for a number of reasons beyond their control.

We really shouldn't compare the Hyung line and the maknae line. We really shouldn't. Even before their solos they weren't treated equally by fans. It's why most times we had to work extra hard to push their content and support them because if we left things to chance they would have tanked hard. I call it affirmative action and that's where the strength of OTZ lies. We balance these things out.

And let's not blame Jimin for it. Because truth is had it been Jk or Tae they would have overshadowed the hyung line too. It's rock beats scissors, maknae beats hyung line.

Among the maknaes, I feel Jungkook would have been the most followed out of BTS but his personality tends to be a bit controversial with the tattoos and dating scandals and I don't give a fuck attitude which kinda suits his personna but rubs people off the wrong way. even that he's still the Golden Maknae. Can't take that away from him.

Tae has the oppressed under dog vibe going for him. From day one, he was hidden by the company, he was marginalized as the alien of the group, laughed at by friends, raised on a farm, and his grandma died. Then it turns out not only is he hot and talented, he's goofy, has a heart of gold and has that bit of fire in him you just don't want to mess with him he will cut you

Yet however they both are missing something that comes naturally for Jimin- mystery and obsession.

I don't know how Jimin is doing it but he is doing it.

He has a shit ton of sex appeal, has a voice so unique it piques your curiosity, looks like nothing you've ever seen, mad mad classy, mature, disciplined, accessible, consumable- he has that level of success that looks attainable if only you follow his blue print.

Having the success of the Golden Maknae is unattainable to most people. Not everyone has youth on their side, not everyone has a perfect pitch to stand out of the lot, not everyone has the natural talent Jungkook has which comes without him even trying.

It's the same with Tae. To get the success he has you would have to be him specifically.

With Jimin it's different. His success does not rest on his looks or voice alone. In fact, I'd argue his success doesn't come from any of that at all and I think it's intentional on his part. He doesn't rely on luck- that doesn't mean he doesn't have it, he do. He just don't make that his whole personality.

And that's what Tae was talking about in I-land. There are very tangible aspects to his success. It's what makes him the rookie Bible. He demystifies success and makes it replicable. It's easy to look at him and feel inspired and assured if you work just as hard as Jimin then you should get the same results- except you can't work just as hard cos what he does is humanly impossible💀

Jungkook named him Tripple A effort guy and he's right.

I feel this is why a company like hybe would love him. He doesn't let his looks do the talking for him. He doesn't rely on his looks or say I have a unique voice and that's it. He leaves nothing to chance.

He is very interesting. And that interest often leads people into obsessing over him. Once you Jim in you can't Jim out.

Tae's haters and detractors don't care enough about him to follow him around and keep tabs on him.

Jk's haters couldn't give a fuck about him too.

However Jimin's haters are so obsessed with him they turn around to be his fans which is crazy🤣🤣🤣

They look at him and just don't understand why he's successful the way he is and I feel that's how the obsession with him begins 😆

They want to know where he's at, who he's with, what he's doing. Yet dude is so mysterious they get nothing out of him which only intensify their obsession😩

They will listen to his music all the way through just so they can come on the internet and say it's shitty- 🤣

Jimin is admirable. Brands admire him, regular folks admire him. People want him to succeed for the same reasons they may want someone like TAE to succeed. They are both a rags to riches story. Except they both have fans who engage in very different fan behaviors.

Which is what it all comes down to. Jimin's fans behave differently from any members' fans. Perhaps people should pay attention to that before acting jealous of him.

It's just as how BTS fans behave and engage in very different fan behaviors to other idols' fans. And don't hurt your head, there a countless experts who have tried to research Army to understand what it is about BTS keeps us tethered to them but haven't a clue.

Also let's not confuse followers for fans. Just because one member has a lot of followers does not mean they have the most fans out of BTS💀

People can fake accounts and follow anyone but not everyone of those accounts may be a true fan.

Jimin knows how to work the public. He knows what we want. He can enchant us and play us like a violin if he so chooses. He's behind a lot of the successes of BTS especially with regards to their public image.

He's a master curator, he's the voice telling them don't get drunk and vlive, move this way on the stage, hold it a big longer, post this, don't post that, why? Because he knows how to work the public. I'd say Tae too to be honest.

I don't think JM has fully stepped into his power. You are right to say his fame will skyrocket if he breaks away. He has the skills and experience, knowledge, creativity and discipline to make him forever relevant.

If anyone is going to become a household name I trust it's jimin because he gets it. He gets that talent alone won't get you anywhere, looks alone won't suffice you gotta be the whole package and HE IS THE WHOLE PACKAGE.

JIMIN IS THE WHOLE PACKAGE

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acourtofthought · 4 months

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Is it possible sjm changed her mind since that interview long ago about elain and lucien healing together? I noticed that ACOWAR showed clear signs that sjm was still going for elucien and that azriel barely had any setup as a character. Yes, we got a lot of him, but he was not a prominent character in a way Lucien was. With Lucien, we learned about his heritage and a bit more of his past. We even got inside of his head. But in acofas, there was a shift. We went from Elain defending Lucien in front of Graysen and smiling at Lucien's joke to her ignoring him and avoiding him completely. Azriel also gained a lot more prominence while it feels like Lucien faded into the background in a way. This sounds silly, but the idea of sjm abandoning a perfectly good Day Court plot in favor of a forced forbidden lovers storyline between Azriel and Elain is honestly terrifying.

It's definitely possible!

But since in the same interview she spoke of Nessian ending up together and they did in fact end up together, it's also possible Elucien is endgame as she once envisioned them to be.

I do agree with you that Lucien got a whole lot of buildup in ACOWAR (even before that, his character has been prominent since book 1) and we had a lot less of him in ACOSF but there is a logical reason for that.

Lucien doesn't belong in the NC. He glanced at Elain / "I'm not needed here. I'll fight if you need me to, but..."

And though he went back to Velaris because Elain invited him at the end of ACOWAR, we find out that she's regressed in the novella and no longer engages with him so again, he's got no reason to stick around as he was really only there for her.

Even that's not a big deal because Nesta pretty much confessed her feelings for Cassian in ACOWAR then started ignoring him and got together with many other males in the novella. Elain sharing a few glances with Az and a near kiss is tame compared to what Cassian had to accept as Nesta worked through things.

But with that said, why would Lucien be prominently featured in a Nesta and Cassian book when neither of them are close to Lucien? In fact, prior to SF, Nesta was very antagonistic towards him.

A book set in the Night Court with members of the IC are going to feature.....mostly Night Court characters and members of the IC.

And yes, Az got a lot of build up in SF because he's Cassian's best friend. Is there any other male that would make sense to be as heavily featured in Cassian's book than Az? Especially when Rhys's arc is technically over?

And if you think about it....how much more buildup could Lucien have before he actually gets a book?

When you look at the the buildup Az had in the novella and SF it boils down to:

Az has a mother he visits, we're reminded that he hates the Illyrians even though he is one of them and always will be, there's more to Az than what we originally thought ("Az is different in a lot of ways"), the fact that he wants a mating bond and is struggling with feelings of low self worth, feeling guilty for the things he does, and a hinted at (but not confirmed) mating bond with Gwyn.

The buildup Lucien has had since book 1 is:

His father and brothers were responsible for the death of Jesminda and though he pretends he has, he's never forgotten what they did to her. / He's not allowed into Autumn to see his mother (and he's her favorite child). / Beron abuses his mother and his brother and once again sent his others sons out to attack Lucien while he was fleeing Spring / SJM tells us Eris is looking at Lucien with sadness and regret in ACOWAR. / The big reveal that Helion is Lucien's real father. / That Lucien is not only Helion's sole heir but is showing the dominance associated with a High Lord coming into power. / Lucien no longer has a real home to call his own, he's basically a drifter between the human lands, Spring and the NC and feels sadness over Spring not turning out the way he expected. / His friendship with Tamlin that's in limbo. His SA from Iantha that he hasn't gotten to address / A bond that snapped but has been unaccepted for two years and something that causes him actual suffering while always having to fight his instincts. / Feeling like he's "nothing".

We've got Lucien needing a home, needing to discover his heritage, needing an answer on his mating bond, needing to discover his powers, needing to reconnect with his mother and his brother, needing to restore his friendship with Tamlin, etc. The only thing left to do with Lucien is to resolve all these open ended plots for him and that can't happen until his book (it's not going to happen in a NC book).

When you add all of that into the clues SJM left for Elain belonging in Spring with her scent like Spring, with NC Black sucking the life out of her no matter how much she claimed to be part of the court, with members in the NC trying to prevent her from doing the things the offered to do, I think it's fairly clear that Elucien is on track as scheduled.

#pro elucien #lucien vanserra #elain archeron

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marshmallowprotection · 13 days

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Now I'm curious how Suit would treat an assistant MC like from the first bad ending

I hugely think it depends on how you want to imagine the situation. When I am trying to piece him together in a situation that does not cause him to be provoked the way he was in Ray Route, I look at V Route as my staple example of what to expect. He's wild, hard to lock down, but one thing is for certain, he's curious about you and he will learn what makes you tick, one way or another.

He doesn't have a reason to lash out at you in that situation, and he wouldn't have a reason to do so in the assistant route. Ray wasn't put in the basement for turning against Mint Eye, and therefore, he didn't wake up there with the instinctual reaction to attack and defend. In a situation where you're the assistant, you're not going to encounter his attitude the same way.

You're an interesting plaything, you are Ray's little dress up doll. You could be a nuisance, you could get in his way, or you could benefit him. There's really no wrong way to imagine it. More than anything, I can see him wanting to pick you apart. A plaything he wants to figure out more than anything else. What makes you tick? What makes you squirm? Can he get something out of being close to you like Ray? Or, are you terrified by him? Would you prefer Ray?

He wants to know what makes you important and why the hell Ray would kidnap you in the first place. What makes you so special? Why would Ray do all of this for you? What's the benefit in putting their safety at risk just to be with you? Is it worth all the trouble? Are you worth the trouble? Can you do anything that will help them take over the RFA or did Ray just intends to keep you at his side?

What's the end goal?

Hell, what's the main goal?

It's not as if he's going to corner you like prey. There is no purpose in doing that because he is not in a situation where he needs to blame you for everything bad that's happened to him and Ray.

You could be a nuisance to him if you get in the way of his work that needs to be done, but I don't think he's going to treat you with the animosity that you see in other situations. Even in those situations, while he's not in the right, most of his actions can be understood as him doing everything he can within his power to make things right, but the only way for him to do that is to be cruel and it defeats the purpose.

Him locking you away in your room being, in part, him knowing that he is the lesser of all evils compared to the other believers. His choice to deny you food, while 100% wrong, does have some basis in being from the fact that he and Ray have been poisoned with food plenty of times, more times than he can count, actually. Him trying to belittle you in front of Rika is another ploy, too. He knows Rika already made up her mind on you, but it doesn't stop him from trying.

His reaction to when that inevitably happens in an assistant situation may look similar, but how he responds will be different.

The circumstantial evidence as to what he will do in a different situation is hard to pin down, but if you take what you have seen him do in other situations, we can kind of wager a few guesses as to what will happen when things go wrong.

But if you're asking me what he'll do before something goes wrong and it seems to be going in his and Ray's favor, that's hard to say. It depends on what kind of person you are, how you respond to what happened to you, and a multitude of other factors.

The MC in the Prologue’s Bad Ending resigns themself to staying with Ray because… “He’s sad… but I’m certain he won’t hurt me.” They stay with him because they know he's lonely, they empathize with that, and all they want to do is to provide him with… kindness.

I have always imagined that this MC is down on their luck and doesn't have a lot of good in their life and despite everything, Ray is one of the first people that’s shown them kindness in a long time, and they decide to stick with him. Even if what he did was wrong and they can acknowledge that, they understand that he's not the true evil in this situation, and even though he should be held accountable for what he's done, seeing what he's living through makes them understand that the situation is far more complex than it appears at first glance.

Suit Saeran is a wild card.

I can narrow down what he'll do sometimes and other times I'm not sure what he would do. I hope this fills in some of the blanks for you at the very least.

#mod kait #ask #mystic messenger #anon #mysme #saeran choi #mysticmessenger #mm #choi saeran #suit saeran #character analysis

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oathbreakerapologist · 2 months

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SADS, Sortie, and the Theater of Violence, an Essay

In the lead-up to "A.M.F.", as the group is discussing the plans for Stone's "feast," Garv asks, "Why have these last ones been like this big fuckin' production?" (SADS 4: 59)

Production. That's a loaded word.

Production connotes the making of theater, or perhaps film—generically, a performance. More specifically, it connotes the act of putting together such a performance, realizing it, bringing it into being. The use of "production" there is far from the only time such a connotation graces the opening scenes of "A.M.F." Earlier, Mal asks whether Stone intends it to be a "free-for-all" or if he will "give [them] direction in the moment." (SADS 4: 34) Direction. That's a loaded word too. It could be innocuous enough by itself, but in a scene already rich with the motif of performance its presence is anything but innocuous. And the scene is loaded with that motif; after all, Stone's response to that question is to say, "I do the whole thing, and you guys watch me." (SADS 4: 35) The scene has direction, production, an actor, and an audience. Is there any way to escape the conclusion that "Feast" is a piece of theater?

Theater for whom? In that moment Stone portrays the other four as an audience to his performance—"It's that control over the insurmountable being witnessed by those around me" (SADS 4: 42, emphasis mine)—but those lines are blurred from the beginning, for he says that he also wants to help him "lift and maneuver things as necessary" (SADS 4: 36), and, of course, they will be having sex with him. It turns out that the apparent audience members are actors too. That fact forces a look at the inverse thesis: if the audience is the supporting cast, might not the star be an audience member too? Of course he is, for he is a consumer whose role is "gorge [himself] on" it. (SADS 4: 42) Perhaps the only with an utterly ambiguous place in the production in "Feast" is Evan—Evan, who was so unambiguously cast in his role—who also happens to be the only individual with no agency at all in the situation; how ironic that the only true actor is the only non-agent.

In many ways the framing of "A.M.F." as a performance is remarkable, but it's also absolutely not alone in being framed as such. The lead-up to "A.M.F." crystallizes the theme of violence-as-theater, but that theme has been floating around, even intensifying, since the beginning. That's the essence of Garv's critique of "Feast" and the previous murders: they are "this big fuckin' production." Garv seems remarkably attuned to the increasingly performative nature of the murders, as is evidenced by the way that he favorably compares Jake's to the others' murders in "BOG" as well (SADS 5: 91–92). Though undoubtably part of his motive in making that comparison is to keep Jake on his side, his "production" comment in "A.M.F." suggests that Garv is legitimately critical of the escalating role of performance in the murders. Even Garv sees the murder in "A.M.F." as predictably theatrical based on the increasing theatricality of the previous murders.

In that light it's only logical that Garv initiated the events of "BOG" in the way that he did. If you are attempting to ensure that an event cannot become a piece of theater, how do you go about that? You bring the actors in without a clue about what they are to be doing; you bring them in uncostumed (Stone even arrives in his work scrubs); you bring them in when they weren't expecting to be brought in. The irony, of course, is that "BOG" is just as theatrical as its predecessors. Try as he might, Garv cannot scrub it of theme, allegory, metaphor. Perhaps the attempt to de-theatricize the murder in BOG fails ultimately because, with that many actors in the room, Garv's careful decontextualization merely results in an improv. Perhaps a witnessed act of violence is doomed to be a performance.

To butcher an old cliché, when a lone actor commits a murder with no one around to see it, is it still a piece of theater?

Sortie forces a reckoning with that question. One of the more remarkable shifts that occurs between Sad Sack and Sortie is that Sal's acts of violence in Sortie are designed to be unwitnessed. Hence the frantic phone call to Father Morgan when Harris' son is unexpectedly home at the time of the murder. The need to be unseen is somewhat of a theme that haunts Sal throughout the first three issues of Sortie. When he orders Ivan to stay in the room during "I am a Man of Peace," Sal says, "He just saw my face, so he can't leave this room alive." (Sortie 2: 91) One might read that as a dark joke—Gary and Ivan probably assumed as much, though it's hard to imagine either of them could have lingered on that for too long given everything else occurring at that moment—but it's impossible to ignore the fact that Sal is telling the truth about his intentions with Ivan. His honesty on that front lends credence to the idea that he's being similarly honest about the relevance of Ivan seeing his face. That he remains unwitnessed is of vital importance.

That the murders in "I am a Man of Peace" take place mostly "off-screen" to the readers further serves to strip it of an audience, as does the implication that it occurs mostly outside of Sal's recollection. Sortie unstages its violence, forces Sal out of the role of an actor and into a different role altogether, one in which the nature of the violence he enacts cannot be veiled by the mechanisms and context granted by theatricization.

In doing so it asks: This is no longer a performance. Who are you to still be watching?

#my sad sack thought journal #not bg3 #sad sack #sortie

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brambleghastblast · 2 months

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i think a depressing truth of the internet ill always hate is that negativity is what leads to success

negativity, in forms of content creation, leads to comments of people arguing or saying "but i like that thing". comments lead to the algorithms of social media boosting said piece of comic. algorithm favoring your stuff leads to more views. views get you money

often times, i think most youtubers and tiktokers and people on twitter and whatnot actually force themselves to be negative out of necessity. because its the quickest and easiest way to get a post out there. and its really become a norm in social media thats made the internet suffocatingly bad lately

like.. take pokemon for example, youtubers and tiktokers and twitter users such talking about pokemon will complain to no end about graphics, taking the worst possible screenshots they can get or setting up elaborate glitches so they can take a picture, put it next to another game with the prettiest picture they can get, and then go "WOW CAN U BELIEVE GAMEFREAK MAKES STUFF LIKE THIS" which then starts arguments and spreads like a wildfire because people are pointing out "wow you really took the worst picture you could huh" but then random people desperate to argue go "UHHH GAMEFREAKS NOT GONNA MARRY U DUDE LOL" blah blah blah

or take some specific youtubers for instance, like videogamedunkey is a critic who usually lies about video games he dislikes, makes up stuff or complains about really little stuff, or tries to get glitches to happen to pretend the whole games like that. a reallyyy scummy youtuber but thats literally what he has to do to make money and that sucks! or like... alpharad whos kind of just an obnoxious jerk all the time and thats how he gets his attention because being a jerk gets you comments and comments get you views etc etc

the youtube channel gamexplain got exposed for not paying employees and fell off HARD.. but they made a full recovery and comeback. they used to post informative nintendo and other games news, but lately theyve just been posting negative memes or complaining about really little things or posting negative news with a clickbait title. like.. nintendos doing some reconstruction at their headquarters. so gamexplain posts this

its... just reconstruction. but the big letters, the sad mario, it looks Worrying and causes clicks and comments. its literally just reconstruction. but oh wow with a thumbnail like this they can fearmonger and milk it

it stinks too because generally positive youtubers are... Rare. most positive youtubers fall really hard and barely get any views compared to the big bad youtubers out there, cause theres not a ton to comment on without negativity. and thats so.. sad. (bumping a youtuber i love a lot here; nekolacey is a really great and positive pokemon youtuber and i love her videos!!! but her videos dont really get a lot of views compared to other channels which i find so sad. shes awesome!!)

i think the only generally positive gaming youtuber i know of who actually had a big following was chuggaaconroy, and he was making videos on youtube for MANY MANYYY years to even just get 1 million subscribers.

and then he got cancelled because of... uh... a chatlog from 2009. and... uh...... some out of context discord messages from some youtuber whos been known to falsely accuse autistic people to get allegations on them. and.... apparently some randos named antdude and missfushigaming made up allegations to get some clout but they got proved false... uhh... and also chuggaaconroy went to therapy, apologized a ton, asked everyone to please not harass the accusers, and has been deeply working for years to work on himself because he did have a geniune falling out with masaeanela over him not following set boundaries.

but.... yeahhhh its. uh. when you point out "wow did anything bad happen beyond a falling out with masaeanela" you're kind of just quickly hushed by a bunch of random people and to accept it and quit. they can't afford for that positivity to change the way things are, they need negativity to thrive.

its.. the internet trying its hardest to push down one positive creator who made it so they can hype up a dozen negative ones.

i think the internet has always awarded negativity but it was never really bad. like.. many youtubers back in the day would make top 10s, listing something like "zelda bosses" or "gen 4 pokemon". these were great because they got to gush about something they like, BUT they'd get comments and arguments because of things like "well i would've put ths boss over that boss" or "why isnt crobat on this list!". it worked great because they got clout from comments, but they weren't being actively negative

or, talking about an internet show i LOVE, death battle! this is a fun show where they take two fictional characters and make them fight! and they research to see who wins and have really great animation!

it thrived because not only is it super good, but it causes arguments. most viewers dont care about the real reasoning and numbers, they just want their prefered character to win. so if there preference loses, even if its right, they will get mad and argue, causing comments which cause views which causes success.

unfortunately, the positive ways to get comments just... hardly last. its sad but in the modern internet, being mad and angry is literally how you succeed. its near impossible to make it online if you arent angry or doing stuff to upset people.

it sucks. so much.

and it sucks even more because people trying to make a living on the internet Have to be negative. thats how they make a living. they literally have to complain to make money and survive and it sucks!! so much!!!!!!!!!

i think overall success on the internet always depended on causing arguments and negativity, but its really become suffocating in recent time. everyone tries so hard to be mad they've geniunely become mad. positivity is rare and out of style, negativity is what everyone wants. its.... so....... miserable honestly

#youtube #youtube channel #twitter #tiktok #pokemon #pokemon scarlet and violet #gamexplain #nintendo #chuggaaconroy #therunawayguys #death battle

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rawliverandgoronspice · 1 year

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I absolutely love your analysis of the gerudo and Ganondorf because they put into words what bothers me about how TOTK portrays Ganondorf. That being they remove his agency as a character in favor of having some great evil against the good guys.

[Major story spoilers ahead for the end of the game]

At the end of the game, when you’ve defeated Ganondorf, he swallows the secret stone and becomes a dragon, like Zelda, fully knowing the consequences of what happens when that happens. And it’s just kinda left me with a bitter taste in my mouth? In the context of the story it makes sense, he’s portrayed as a egomaniac who just wants to destroy Hyrule. But compared to other versions of him, this one just feels more openly biased against him and the gerudo, with no reason or justification other than “he’s evil, hate him.” As far as I can tell… They never really show us that he’s done anything horrible or deserving of being feared before the show of fealty cutscene, other than not submit to Hyrule, attack them once, and generally have bad vibes. It feels forced how much they want us to hate him and the people who follow him. I’m not saying character in video games always have to be nuanced or complex but comparing like, Wind Waker Ganondorf next to TOTK Ganondorf…. 🙃 Waste of an excellent design imo.

Heyyy sorry for being a billion years late with this ask!! I was busy finishing the game!!! among other things!!! Thank you so much for your kind words, I'm super happy it resonated with you in that way!

I mean, the whole draconification plot beat doesn't really work for me. Like yeah, sure it's sad that Zelda is now a giant dragon and it's cool to have her soaring above your head while you have no idea where she actually is (a situation that isn't nearly tapped into enough in the narrative imo, like it gets obvious way too fast if you happen upon the wrong memory, etc), and I actually think the whole sequence of you removing the Master Sword from her head was the best scene in the entire game in terms of mood and emotions --even THOUGH it would have been so much better with a stronger story and stronger stakes-- BUT. How does that build up thematically?

I think what doesn't work for the Zelda side of this plot point (I'll get to Ganon next) is that... she doesn't make that choice. It's not like she's being tempted by an easy way out and decides to sacrifice herself for the sake of Hyrule or Link or whoever: she has no choice in the matter. Her powers activate (?? somehow? once and never again also, talk about dropped plot threads), she finds herself in the past, is the passive witness to a bunch of shit that only tangientially relates to her --it's like she's visiting estranged family in a foreign country and watch their drama awkwardly before being dragged into it against her will even though she was just trying to renew her passport and get back home (if there had been any callback to her relationship with her father it would have landed better, but it's just completely ignored so vOv). Then her relatives all die or corrupt or something, and she still can't get back home. What is she meant to do besides draconify? Grow old and die in the past? What would that accomplish?? Her adventures in the past are just basically about solving a shrine puzzle with a particularly weird solution --but the game treats it like a huge sacrifice when it's basically her only way out, and she lost absolutely nothing making that sacrifice (and then she... cries about the weird family drama? sure. Honestly I think it would have worked better if the tears were Rauru's, it's his bullshit everyone is dealing with right? He's the one who feels broken and aggrieved by the whole thing.)

So, if we ignore the draconification precedent builds up to zero thing thematically beyond cheap drama that reveals nothing about neither the characters nor the world, I think Ganondorf's case is a little more compelling because he does make a choice here: dying as he tries to achieve his weird lofty goals (and fail), or postpone his victory eternally by sacrificing his objectives but reject death and defeat --while also barring himself from victory. In a better crafted story, this could be utterly excellent and it feels very Ganondorf to me. BUT, my beef with that plot beat isn't that he chooses the second option, making him kinda active for the first time in the entire game (and makes an appropriate hideous smile: *loved* this second one, the first one didn't land for me but this one really captures the ecstatic insanity and transcendance and desperate madness of the act --I have nothing against Ganondorf offputting smiles and cackles when they feel earned, and the Sonia one just... doesn't to me, it just feels like weird rigging and mesh deformation choices getting out of control).

My problem is that his existence as a dragon contradicts everything we knew about dragons before --both for him and for Zelda. I thought the big issue with draconification was that you'd lose yourself to the act entirely, and would become this sort of organic landmark of infinite power and eternal life but without will to act on your precedent goals and understanding of yourself. But the second the big man becomes an evil dragon, suddenly Zelda zips in to the rescue (apparently remembering who you are? understanding she's meant to fight Ganondorf? I mean, this kind of works emotionally as a climactic ending and the power of love or whatever, again it would have worked better in a better story), and Ganondorf is still very much into destroying the world as well as you and Zelda.

Also, he's very definitively mortal (and he has the stone on his head again? And so if you destroy it you destroy his immortality? why???)

So... What I dislike here is the suggestion that he was somehow so evil and rotten and bad that all of these rare moments of interesting worldbuilding and ambivalence gets completely swallowed in the bossfight logic, making his choice (and Zelda's) completely meaningless in retrospect.

also: let Zelda remain a dragon you cowards, that way Hyrule gets any sort of chance to escape and reimagine its horrying eternal monarchy instead of re-establishing it even harder than before!!!

#totk #totk spoilers #totk critical #asks #tloz #zelda #ganondorf #any change to the statut quo emotionally is so unbearable to this game's writing it's so weird #the dragon thing is a cool idea but I'm not sure it should have involved zelda tbh #if it had been rauru's thing while mineru held ganondorf in place it would have worked better in my opinion #I feel like this leads to much better character arcs and make mineru more of a character #and someone we could connect to much more than rauru #something

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hungrydolphin91 · 8 months

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ok I had to go make my own post about Eugene Cassette Beasts, it's not fair for me to fill up everyone else's tags w how much I love this guy. I wanted to speculate a little about his backstory here cause it honestly fascinates me and I feel like I havent seen this happen much in other media, much less turn based monster collecting RPGs.

So Eugene is from a future world (seemingly the only party member who is except maybe Barkley but he's a dog so.) It sounds like he's from the turn of the century, maybe 2100 or so, and mentions in his rank 3 friendship that in his world, there was a massive reformation when society as a while realized they couldn't keep fucking each other over and destroying the planet, so everyone worked hard to abolish the kinds of structures that unilaterally hurt people (for instance, capitalism). Sounds like a utopia right?

Eugene only says good things about his world really, how much people value acts of goodness and kindness. But he says it all with such a sad tone, like something he's missing out on, because he thinks he is, he didn't fit in. He says that he wasn't great at being helpful all the time, which is why he wants to do better in New Wirral, a world removed from his own where he can be a better person than he was in his own world.

But the thing is, he IS a nice person. Maybe that's by design, everything he does in New Wirral is about him playing the hero, but it's also oh so clear that he brought his own expectations of goodness from his own timeline and they're just as much of a burden here. Even when hes succeeding, he won't cut himself slack, he says he needs to have a cause to rally behind, or what that archangel said to him would be proven true: he IS empty. Or at least, useless, which is probably the same thing to him.

What really grabs me about all of this though (besides the usual love of angst and guilt complexes and hero complexes and whatnot) is this future of moral reformation. Those are a pretty common historical phenomenon, often involving moral panics and an emphasis on presentation--- what matters is that you LOOK pure compared to others. And poor Eugene just felt like he couldn't keep up just because he has some small selfish impulses, or something in that nature I'd imagine--- I think he'd rather throw himself off a bridge than admit whatever the reason was that he didn't fit in in his own world.

It's easy to see his world being our future, in a way. I'd be delighted if terrible oppressive governments and economic systems were torn down in favor of ones that promote equality and universal well being, but currently moral purity is just as much of a trend as ever--- look at any discussion of book banning, not to mention transphobic legislature, fandom antis and so much more. So this hypothetical future is one where even though the 'right' thing has been done, there's still a subtle form of policing going on to enforce it. Maybe that is successful at keeping cruel practices from coming back. Or maybe it's just traumatizing people like Eugene who feel judged by their every action and pressured to be a saint every single moment of their lives.

One last thing I thought was interesting--- as part of his level 4 friendship rank, Eugene mentions how his parents' generation still seem scarred by the cruelties they endured before this reformation. But Eugene is too young to have lived through it himself so you know what that means?? Generational trauma babyyyyy. He's inherited guilt about a time he wasn't even alive for, along with a pressure to make sure it never ever happens again, so no unkindness is tolerated. It's no wonder this boy has so many issues.

So that's my late night rambles about this guy, probably like 50% of this is just me projecting but it's also fun to dissect what's happening here. Like I said before, it's unusual to see a unique concept like character like Eugene and his world in what appears to be a fun little indie game about turning into monsters with cassettes.

#eugene cassette beasts #cassette beasts #i think eugene might be from the future US too going by his accent and our history of protestant moral purity culture would add up #hope this was coherent i really am just rambling #i am most definitely projecting but mannnn. sometimes the characters just resonate w you

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space-mermaid-writing · 7 months

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IronStrange fics update

Okay, since it will probably still be some time until I feed you some new stories, I thought I could at least tell you what I'm working on. (And with working on I mean actively writing it as well as imagining it in my head.)

There's this Vampire!Stephen and Werewolf!Tony AU I just finished. You will hear about it soon.

Also, while this is all IronStrange, I do have a Doctor Strange x Reader project going on I want to work on more. (Don't mind me trying to multitask everything all at once)

Anyway... IronStrange fic projects under the cut :) I'm open for plot bunnies for these projects.

King and Consort ♛ (aka the arranged marriage AU) <Tony stepped to the window, peering down below as the crowds gathered, already celebrating. He loved his people and desired to protect them, had vowed with his life to serve them.

As a prince he had become trusted by his people, stood his ground in his fathers court and shown them he was his own prince and not just another carbon copy of the Stark's rulers.

As their King, he was to fulfill that promise and duty to them by taking a spouse.

As a man, he was nervous. He didn't like the unexpected and the marriage agreements had been carefully and meticulously planned out with Kamar-Taj’s representative by his most trusted advisor, Pepper. All he knew about his husband-to-be was, written on paper, his name, Stephen Strange, Prince of Kamar-Taj.

The foreign realm was known for its sorcerers and even if it was rare for a royal member to become well trained in the magical field, Strange had joined them as a well trained and skilled sorcerer.>

Mostly plotted and partly written. I'll probably try to finish this next.

Belly dancer AU this one is mostly smut. I just want to put Stephen into lots of jewelry and beautiful clothes, and having him seduce Tony with his dance. Stephen's hips don’t lie.

Gladiator fighting AU What if instead of the Hulk it was Tony who crashed on Sakaar? Forced to fight in the arena. He meets a healer slash wizard who is also a human stranded on the planet. Can they unite their forces and escape together? Or will Tony be beaten to death in the arena?

A lot of hurt/comfort and whump.

Tony is strong but only parts of his suit survived the crash. And compared to the big, broad aliens he is set up for fighting, he knows he is not the brawniest. But he knows how to work a crowd and having the crowds favor gives him some advantages. So he is all showy and flashy while trying to win the fights… or at least to not die. It also catches the eye of the Grandmaster. And that can be a dangerous thing.

Fae AU Stephen is king of the winter court; a realm that is very secluded. The other realms eye it with suspicion, because they are sure that Strange killed the previous ruler, the Ancient One. (Also, Stephen refuses to talk to anyone outside of his realm and is a sad loner) That is until one day the king of summer is found in the winter’s forest, barely conscious. Can Tony melt his frozen heart?

Timestone!Stephen AU Following the MCU’s timeline from Siberia to Thanos. Enemies to Tony-learns-to-unhate-magic to Lovers. It also includes time travel.

I’m currently plotting this. I just wanted something with an overpowered Stephen with a deep love for Tony. Not sure how I am going to manage it, because I'm several pages into plotting and so far Stephen is just cursing the Eye of Agamotto for not working properly. Help.

#IronStrange #Tony Stark #Stephen Strange #Stephen Strange x Tony Stark #Stephen Strange / Tony Stark #mermaid writes #mermaid talks #plotting #aus #Alternative universe

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anamazingangie · 1 year

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iron out the kinks by AmazingAngie

Aegon II Targaryen x Daemon Targaryen x Rhaenyra Targaryen

E / 8k / Chapter One / Chapter Two

Summary: “What do I like? Well, there is nothing better than coming home from work and finding something pretty waiting for you. Or, I suppose two pretty things.” He corrected.

“I like watching movies with someone in my lap, my fingers in their cunt. Or their mouth wrapped around my cock, just a warm place for my length to sit after a long day.”

“That sounds… good,” Aegon squeaked, and Rhaenyra nodded.

“I think we are compatible, then.” Daemon said with a grin.

sequel to a sign of maturity (or a midlife crisis)

...

Chapter Two

Strawberry

...

As desperate as Daemon was to get them back into a bed—or actually the bed didn’t really matter, as desperate as he was to get them naked, he knew he needed to be the responsible one. It was the role of dominant to begin with, and he had two decades of experience over the pair both in the lifestyle and…well, life.

So before venturing back into bed with them, he wanted to establish a better understanding of just how inexperienced they were. And that was why he asked to see their apartment—or more specifically, their toy box.

They had given him a brief tour of their place—a nice apartment with two bedrooms, a tiny kitchen, and large (at least by city standards) living space. It didn’t compare to his place but he really hadn’t expected it to.

He was quite charmed to find each of them had full sized beds—Rhaenyra had rolled her eyes when he pointed it out, explaining that, “Our parents furnished the place and wanted to discourage overnight visitors.”

“Jokes on them,” Aegon says, “The closer we stay to each other at night, the more we have sex.” Rhaenyra shoved him in a childlike display and Daemon just shook his head at their antics.

They escorted him to their room, though they admitted it was technically Rhaenyra’s. “He keeps his clothing in the other one—you know, for plausible deniability.” Daemon hummed in response, thinking it was quite sad that even in their home they had to keep up appearances of being single. He understood it, he just didn’t like it.

Rhaenyra opened the top drawer of her birch dresser with a flourish, revealing an assortment of toys. There were a couple dozen at least, nothing to scoff at by any means. None were especially large, but some of the dildos sported ribs and scales, certainly beyond what a normal sex shop would carry. His brow rose at the tapered tip of one that resembled a tentacle, wondering which of them used that.

There were plugs too—the largest of which was still smaller than his dick, but not small by any means. And vibrators, lot’s of those. He guessed that Rhaenyra favored those—he could see her as a pillow princess, content to slip one into the front of her panties and let it do all the work. It would definitely do the job, but wouldn’t be as satisfying as the orgasms he could provide.

He picked up the largest dildo, one with a flared base that made it acceptable for anal use.

“Do you like it?” Daemon asked, addressing Aegon, who was blushing. Before the boy could respond Rhaenyra snorted, “He really likes it.” Aegon glared at her, “What?” She asked, “You do! He’ll spend like hours just sitting on that thing.”

Daemon smiled at that, and at the boy's blush. “Don’t be embarrassed, nothing wrong with having a hungry hole, hm?” He said, enjoying watching him squirm a little.

“And you, Rhaenyra?” He asked. She shifted, less vocal now that the conversation had turned to her. She even looked a bit embarrassed herself before admitting, “Not really.” Daemon hummed, “Do you think you could be trained to like it?” He asked, reaching out to stroke her jaw. She shifted again, before saying, “I…don’t know.”

“What have you had up there before?” She bit her lip before looking down at the drawer of toys, rummaging around until she found a nondescript metal butt plug. He nodded, “Can you turn around for me princess?” He asked, and when she did he pressed gently on her back, bending her torso over the dresser. He lifted her skirt, a pleated thing which brought back schoolgirl fantasies of his youth. He pushed that thought aside—though he wouldn’t rule out revisiting it later— then hooked his fingers through the sides of Rhaenyra’s underwear. “Can I pull these down?” He asked, and she muttered a quiet “Yes.”

He ran his thumbs under the swell of her asscheeks, whispering praise about how pretty she was, because it was true. And then his thumbs parted the crease of her ass separating the cheeks and shushing her when she whined nervously. “Look at that little thing,” he cooed, stroking his index finger against the outside of the puckered flesh, pleased by the way she shivered at his touch.

“You’re too pretty back here for a plug like that, princess. I’m not surprised your precious hole rejected it.” He continued stroking—there wasn’t any lubrication, and he didn’t want to hurt her, so the touches were featherlight.

“I’d start you off with some little anal beads, so small you could practically wear them around your neck like jewelry without anyone knowing otherwise. I’d press one of the little pearls into you, with lots of lube, and the rest would just dangle against your thighs.” He stroked between her legs then, tracing his fingers down the aforementioned flesh.

“When you got used to it, I’d push another into you. And maybe another, until you were squirming because your hole felt so full. But there would still be one more, tugging gently thanks to gravity. The reminder of what you couldn’t take would be there taunting you with every movement. And princess I think you’re competitive, no? You’d want to take them all. Prove that your little hole could do it. So I’d press that one in too. It might hurt a bit at first, all those pearls inside of you, but gosh I’d be so proud of you.”

She whimpered, hips squirming beneath his palms.

“You’d be clenching down so hard, your cunt would be so tight, I might not even be able to get inside of you. Maybe Aegon would have to fuck you? His little cock would be gripped so hard by your walls because your ass is so full your little cunt just can’t help it.”

He slid her underwear back up, folding her skirt back where it belonged as he stroked her clothed waist. “You’d come like that I think.” He paused for a moment, fingers stroking the length of her now covered bum. “I’d get you a prettier plug, maybe with a gem? Purple to match your eyes I think, and it would look so good nestled between your asscheeks that you’d be desperate to take it.” He said, thoughtful.

“I’d let you have as many orgasms as you wanted—but only if you had the plug in. So you’d learn to associate that hole being full with pleasure. How does that sound?” He asked, and he heard her let out a little puff of breath. “Good. That sounds really good.” She admitted.

She was still bent over, and ground against his groin. He laughed, stilling her hips with his hands and calling her “Naughty.” As he moved away from her, worried he would be too tempted to raise her skirt again. Then he asked, “Which are your favorites?” And gestured to the toys before them.

Rhaenyra picked up a small rabbit vibe—something a few inches long to clench on with clit stimulation, unsurprising. He’d introduce her to something more fun, already mentally adding a hitachi wand to his shopping cart. It was the gold standard for a reason, and their collection was shamefully missing one.

Aegon seemed to realize it was his turn—picking up a thick but relatively short plug. It wasn’t as tapered as the others—something between a plug and a dildo, in that it could stay inside undetected but would keep the rim stretched wide. An interesting choice.

“You like stretching out your hole?” He asked, and Aegon nodded shyly.

“His fans go crazy when he takes it out and it gapes a little.” Rhaenyra said.

“Have you tried tunnels?” He asked, knowing based on what was before him that the answer was most likely no. When they confirmed this by shaking their heads, he continued, “They make hollow plugs, so you can see inside your hole while it’s pried open, and they make tunnels for vaginal use too—so you can see deep into the cunt. But your insides can gel all dry—you’d have to take breaks so I could get you nice and wet in between. Flood that cunt until the tunnel would slide right back in without lube. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

They both nodded, oddly in sync and looking a bit dazed thanks to his words. A glass dildo could do something similar—they were versatile too, able to be heated or frozen for added simulation, and there was an idea, but maybe he’d keep that one to himself for now.

“Whose is this?” He asked, picking up the tentacle shaped one—grinning a little when they both blushed. “It was a joke,” Aegon said, defensive, “But it does feel pretty good.” Rhaenyra admitted.

“You know,” Daemon said—thinking of a company he invested in ages ago. “They make longer ones—they come in a bunch of different sizes, and if you buy the right one, the tip will press right up against your cervix.” Rhaenyra’s nose wrinkled and Daemon almost laughed at the expression.

“It’s like a game—do you want to risk the pinch of it hitting that to feel the stretch of its base? Or do you try to control your thrusts and get off on just the tip? You can’t be satisfied without a bit of suffering.” Rhaenyra looked more contemplative, now.

“Then again, some girls like that—having something just a little too deep, butting against where nothing is supposed to go. Even grinding down trying to make it bruise so they can feel it the next day.” He hid his smirk, the girl now looking straight up curious. Yes, he thought he’d order a selection of those, too.

“This has been illuminating, thank you.” Daemon said, stepping back from the drawer.

“What is your favorite toy?” Rhaenyra asked as she shut the drawer, and Daemon grinned. “Whatever hole is wet for me, princess.” He paused, then continued, “That’s not true. Whatever hole I feel like getting wet for me.” He took great pleasure in the way Rhaenyra audibly swallowed—a retort clearly not coming as quickly as she expected.

“What would you like to do now?” He asked—when there was no response he asked seriously, “Would you like me to leave?” Aegon actually grabbed his wrist in protest, though both of them said “No!” Quite enthusiastically.

“It’s our first date, hm?” Daemon said, “We could curl up on the couch and watch something? Maybe order dinner later, my treat of course?”

“That sounds nice.” Agreed Aegon.

Rhaenyra smiled, a fiendish expression, “I know just the thing.”

…

It was only mid afternoon, but Rhaenyra pulled the curtains shut so the room was dim. There were no overhead lights in the apartment, just lamps on the side tables that gave the room a soft glow. Their couch was large, too big for the space, really, the cushions were deep and made from a textured velvet. He immediately noted the chaise section on one side, allowing someone to recline— Daemon could already imagine using that for his benefit.

He swallowed, trying to dull the thrum of arousal that had been stirring since he sat down across from them hours earlier. It seemed unfair he had to go this long without touching either of them, at least in the intimate manner he craved. He’d try to resist a little longer, though he doubted they’d get through an entire film without a bit of petting.

He didn’t want to make either of them uncomfortable, or move too quickly, but now that they had established what they wanted, he didn’t see much reason to draw things out, either. As far as he could tell, they were ridiculously compatible and he was eager to prove that to them—and himself, too.

Still, as he sat down he kept his hands to himself—letting the siblings snuggle into his sides. They were sort of like kittens though, pressing up against him and eager for attention, and it would be cruel to ignore them. So It didn’t take long for his arm to drape across Rhaenyra, finding a place in her lap and sneaking under her pretty white skirt in its eagerness to feel bare flesh. At the same time, Aegon almost melted beside him, his head coming to rest on Daemon’s lap. It was nice—one hand on each of them, just softly stroking them.

He’d like to do this more often. Or as much as possible, really. It was soothing in a way that, despite his best efforts, being by himself never seemed to be. When he was alone, he always had to be doing something, and he supposed with them, he was still doing something. But that something was relaxing, fulfilling and rewarding for them both in a way his work wasn’t.

Rhaeynra fiddled with the remote, navigating the menu of their tv with the deftness of youth. Once she had selected something, she nuzzled back against Daemon, a smile still on her face. He knew she was up to something based on her smile alone, but he still found himself a little impressed by nerve as the opening credits for a period piece played—followed by moans of a dark haired couple fucking while a pretty blonde girl played voyeur. He laughed in earnest when the brunette was revealed to be the blondes brother, as if that wasn’t fucking perfect.

“What?” Rhaenyra said, “It’s inspiring!” She insisted, and Daemon laughed again, unable to resist kissing her. It was a gentle kiss, all things considered—his eyes went back to the TV, while his hands remained gently stroking what was before him.

Though Daemon was trying to be good, his hand did naturally wander higher and higher, until it was between Rhaenyra’s thighs—playing with the lace trim of her underwear and pressing lightly against her mound. She was panting a little at the stimulation and Daemon decided to tease her a little.

“Princess you’re all flushed, are you warm?” He asked.

She narrowed her eyes, looking about as intimidating as an angry kitten when she said, “No.”

“Are you sure you aren’t too hot? Maybe you should take your dress off, kitten.”

She raised her chin, “Is that a command?”

“Would you obey it, if it was?” He asked, pleased when she responded with a nod.

“Take your dress off, kitten.” He said a bit more firmly, smiling as she managed to squirm out of it while still sitting. It wasn’t the most glamorous strip tease, but he was too distracted by the exposed skin to care about how it came to be revealed to him. She unclipped her bra, tossing it onto the floor with her dress—he definitely hadn’t asked that of her, but he wasn’t going to complain. Not with those glorious tits on display for him.

He did, however, stop her from removing her underwear. He needed something to prevent him from just bending her over and fucking her. The thin fabric wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing. So he said,“You can leave those on,” and then, “Good girls don’t fuck on the first date, do they?” He asked and Rhaenyra bit her lip before shaking her head.

She retook her place beside him, the show still playing in the background—though now he was more focused on the pretty things next to him. His hand draped over Rhaenyra’s shoulders—not a casual touch, where his fingers rested on the slope of her arm. No, that would be the passing touch of a boy testing the waters on a first date, and Daemon had more confidence than that.

He had taken her bralessness as an invitation to feel her bare breasts, and it was one he wouldn’t hesitate to accept. She nestled closer against him as he stroked her collarbone, before moving lower and taking the weight of one breast in his palm. He played with the nipple a little, giving it a slight twist and delighting in her moan.

He was still petting the hair of the boy in his lap, who seemed to be feeling a little left out—he started nuzzling at Daemon’s length, hidden beneath black wool but beginning to stiffen. He pressed down on the boy's head in an effort to encourage him before gently cupping his neck. He wouldn’t squeeze, even if Aegon did consent, some kinks were just too dangerous for reality. But he provided a light pressure there, thinking the boy would enjoy the reminder of the power he was giving to Daemon

He probably would like a collar or harness. Something just a little too tight so the pressure served as an embrace and constant acknowledgement of his submission, not that he needed it, god it seemed to come naturally to Aegon. He wondered if he had gone into subspace before? How quickly Daemon would be able to get him there, just with some sweet words and a soft fucking?

While the boy was busy playing with his clothed cock, Daemon returned his gaze to Rhaenyra’s bare breasts. Compliments came from his lips unbidden as he played with her nipples, praise that just couldn’t be contained because she was so pretty. And she preened under it, shifting, and eventually pushing his hand lower—until it was cupping her cotton covered cunt.

It was oh so easy to dive beneath the thin fabric, dragging a finger across her clit before digging it into her cunt. She squirmed a little against the grip, and he pressed a second finger into her. She arched against his hand, forcing herself further down on his fingers before grinding against them. He wanted to laugh a little at her frustration—the angle wasn’t right, she could only really take them to the knuckle and clearly she craved more.

He must have let out some sort of noise marking his amusement, because she glared at him before taking matters into her own hands. She rather rudely pushed her brother away so her hands could access his belt and fly. Aegon sat up, looking like a kicked puppy. Daemon had little desire to reward the girl for her behavior, so he removed his fingers from her cunt and used them to cup her brother's jaw instead.

Aegon melted into the kiss that followed, his fingers digging into Daemon’s shoulders as he pressed more against his mouth. Daemon realized that despite all they’d done—the fact this boy had licked his cum out of his sister’s cunt, they had barely shared more than a soft kiss. He was a practiced kisser Daemon thought—and he should know, he was one too. He’d bet with the boy’s looks that the girl’s loved him in school. Though why he would be interested in them when he had Rhaenyra at home, Daemon wasn’t sure.

His tongue pressed at the boy’s lips until they parted, submissive and quick to respond to Daemon’s wants even without verbal commands. Daemon’s tongue lapped across his teeth before venturing deeper—only to pull back and change into something quite chaste. Daemon liked kissing—lazy make outs in bed that didn’t lead to anything.

But he liked this too, keeping his partners guessing and treating kissing being a game that was only exciting if you didn’t know who would win. He’d go from little pecks to biting to spitting if he felt like it and his partner obliged. He couldn’t recall where that fell on this boy’s limits list, though, so he didn’t venture into that territory. And he was so distracted by the boy’s lips, he forgot about Rhaenyra until her hand was on his dick.

He pulled away from Aegon in surprise, and Rhaenyra took that as an opening. With his length freed from his trousers and curling against his dress shirt, she settled herself in his lap—cunt pressed up against his cock. His hands naturally grabbed onto her hips—pulling her closer until he could feel the heat of her folds through the damp cotton of her underwear.

When he was confident she was balanced, his hands traveled to her waist. She was a curvy little thing, and he liked the way his fingers could dig in slightly to her flesh. He also liked the fact that his hands could almost encircle the smallest point of her. He wasn’t violent but there was a certain appeal, especially in a sexual sense, to a girl you could throw around.

But on this occasion, he was going to make her do the work. “If my fingers aren’t enough you’re going to have to get off without my help, princess.” He warned. Her eyes narrowed, and she braced her hands on his shoulder, seeming to take this as a challenge.

Daemon wasn’t about to reward the brat with more attention, so one of his hands returned back to Aegon’s hair so he could pull him in for a kiss. Daemon belatedly wondered if they should have established more guidelines for this—he’d neglected to ask about their experience with having a third partner. He assumed it wouldn’t be an issue, since it wasn’t mentioned, but he wondered if Rhaenyra would get jealous?

A little jealousy could be fun, he wasn’t above encouraging some competitive spirit in the bedroom. Who could take more of his cock down their throat? Fun. Who could come the fastest? Fun. Who could hold off coming for the longest? Also fun. But there was another type of jealousy that could come with threesomes—the type that curled in your gut and made you feel sick. Daemon hadn’t personally experienced it, but he’d been with enough people to know those who had.

The existence of threesome’s that ended with hurt feelings and tears because someone felt too neglected, or felt like they got too much attention, couldn’t be ignored. Daemon didn’t want that to happen here, but he didn’t want to ruin the mood either—so he’d follow his intuition, and hoped they all enjoyed themselves.

He licked further into Aegon’s mouth, delighting in his moans, which had the added benefit of opening his mouth and making the kiss even deeper. Daemon couldn’t remember the last time he just…kissed like this, it was nice. But not nice enough to distract him from the girl in his lap—for Rhaenyra was making a plethora of lovely sounds, too, pretty little sighs and whimpers and groans as she ground the crotch of her panties against him. It felt good to him, too, the bit of friction and pressure as she steadily moved against his length.

Her movements intensified, as did her grip on his shoulders, nails digging into the shirt that he couldn’t believe he was still wearing. She was thrusting in earnest now, truly taking her pleasure from his cock. God, it was really working for him too—he wasn’t sure he had ever come from that little stimulation? At least not in years, but fuck between her cunt and Aegon’s mouth he was about ready to explode.

He pulled away from Aegon—one hand still on his cheek as he looked back at Rhaenyra. She seemed singularly focused on her task, hips gyrating in a way that was really, really, hot. And then her mouth fell open—like she couldn’t control it, because it felt too good, and her moans got louder.

Fuck, he was going to come. He didn’t want to interrupt her, but he had to reach out and squeeze the base of his dick. Luckily she didn’t seem bothered, continuing to grind against him as she came.

God she was so hot when she did, the mixture of her little movements and moans almost took him there too. But there was a part of him that was aware he wasn’t a sixteen year old boy, and that dry humping—no matter how hot, was no longer an acceptable form of release. So while Rhaenyra caught her breath, her cotton covered cunt still pressed right up against his erection, he made a decision.

“Can you lift up for me princess?” Her movements were slowed from her orgasm, but that made her pliable too—she followed the instruction without the sass she usually showed. Once her cunt was level with the tip of his dick, he used his other hand to move the crotch of her underwear to the side. “Can you hold that for me?” He asked. She nodded, her fingers coming hooking into the cotton and exposing her cunt to him.

His hands returned to her hips, guiding her down onto the tip of his cock.

“I thought,” she gasped when he breached her, then continued, “Good girls don’t fuck on the first date?” She asked, breathily. He smiled, because clearly some of her sass was still present. “This isn’t fucking princess, just stay right there with just the tip inside you, okay?” He said, and she nodded, eyes a little glazed from arousal. Her thighs were shaking a bit, too, from the pose—making her cunt contract and clench around the tip of his cock in a manner that was pretty fantastic.

When he finally released the pressure at the base of his dick, the orgasm came quickly. He tried to keep his hips still, but he couldn’t resist thrusting a little, pressing maybe an inch or two into Rhaenyra as he rode out the release. He relaxed into the couch after, his softening dick slipping out of her folds with a wet sound.

Her hands fell to her sides, and he gently moved her underwear back into place, lazily stroking the wet spot as his cum seeped out of her cunt. “See, that wasn’t fucking, was it? I was just using your cunt to store my cum—but princess, it’s leaking.” He said almost smirking as she rutted against his fingers. Clearly someone was eager for another orgasm. “I don’t want you to ruin these, maybe you should take them off?” He asked, and she nodded, happy to except this flimsy excuse for the sake of nudity. She stood and slipped them off, but before she could retake her seat Daemon grasped her waist—pulling her down into his lap, so her back was against his chest.

She giggled, nestling up against him and letting her head fall back against his shoulder. When he was confident she was comfortable, his fingers traveled, pressing into the wet mess of her cunt and slipping up to her clit, spreading the juices until everything was delightfully slick.

“Aegon?” He asked, the boy’s eyes focused on where his fingers had roamed. “Let me see your dick, hm? I bet it is all hard from watching your sister get off. It’s your turn, no?”

He nodded—still seeming fascinated by the mess that was his sister's cunt. But he slowly stood, unbuttoning and pushing down the jeans he wore. His underwear followed soon after, and seeming embarrassed by wearing just a collared shirt, he stripped that off too.

“Gorgeous.” Daemon said, appreciatively, mindlessly slipping a second finger into Rhaenyra. “So hard, too. Come put it into this cunt—I got it all wet for you.” He encouraged, wiping his slick fingers on the skin of Rhaenyra’s thigh before hooking underneath them, gripping one in each palm and spreading her legs. She moaned at the action, leaning further against Daemon and tilting her hips upward, practically inviting Aegon to come closer.

Aegon did come closer, dragging his own fingers through her messy folds before looking back up at Daemon for approval. He was all to happy to give it, “It would be slutty for her to fuck me on a first date, but you’re her brother, so it’s ok.” He said, the logic twisted, but so was this entire fucking situation.

“You don’t have to make it good for her either, she already came. Just fill her up, hm? Girl’s love having their cunts flooded with cum.” He insisted. Aegon blushed at the crude talk, but didn’t hesitate—pressing his length in with a single thrust. The siblings let out matching moans at the sensation, and the expresion on Aegon’s face was truly delicious—as was the slight bit of pressure against his chest, each of Aegon’s thrusts rocking Rhaenyra against him.

Rhaenyra let out a little whimper, something about being “Sensitive.” Which Daemon teased her for, “What is sensitive? Your cunt? With that tiny cock in it?” He shook his head, mocking, glancing up at Aegon to enjoy the blush of the boy’s cheek. “I’m surprised you can even feel it, sweetheart.”

One of his hands wandered down her thigh, to the point where Aegon was thrusting into her. They both groaned as he teased the place where they were joined and the rim of Rhaenyra’s cunt. He let them get used to his fingers there, while he pondered his attack. The action was timed with Aegon’s thrusts, when the boy had pulled out an inch or two, he pressed his index finger against slightly stretched skin. Everything was slick from his cum, and Rhaenyra’s own release, and his finger managed to slip inside—only to quickly be pressed deeper by Aegon’s next thrust.

They both moaned, loudly, almost sounding pained, though their faces both spoke of pleasure. Daemon moved his wrist, so more of his finger could enter her cunt, making everything feel tighter for the pair, and that was all it took—they both came, a symphony of moans coming from their lips as they rode out their orgasms against each other. Daemon waited until after Aegon’s limp length had slid out to remove his finger. Then, in an unplanned move, he held the finger up to Rhaenyra—who stared at it for a moment before taking it into her mouth.

“Good girl.” He said, pressing a kiss to her hair and manipulating her so she was sitting sideways on his lap and able to lay down on the couch. Aegon sat down too, before partially pulling Rhaenyra into his own lap—seeming to find comfort with his fingers tangled in her hair. She rolled slightly, so she could press kisses to the bare skin of her brother’s pelvis. When she went lower though, threatening to kiss the limp length that had been inside her, he pushed her away—letting out a childish whine that it was, “Too sensitive.” Rhaenyra rolled her eyes, but obliged, flipping back over so Aegon could stroke her hair.

They stayed like that for a while, one episode of the show—which admittedly Daemon had missed most of, turning into two. By the time the third one came on, they were all awkwardly asleep on the couch, slumped together while sitting up but managing to find rest regardless.

When Daemon woke up—with a crick in his neck, because he wasn’t in his twenties like some people.

(To this, Aegon had responded, “I’m actually nineteen!” Which had not made Daemon feel any less ancient.)

But it was still the best sleep he’d had in a long, long, time.

If this was what being with them on a couch was like, then he really couldn’t wait to get them into bed.

#Rhaenyra Targaryen #Daemon Targaryen #daemyra #fic #a03 #romance #fluff #prompt #daemon x Rhaenyra #HOTD #house of the dragon #ficlet #fanfic #aegon ii smut #rhaenyra x aegon #rhaegon #aegon x daemon #aegon x daemon x rhaenyra #angie writes

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farfromstrange · 11 months

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Chaos Theory | Michael Kinsella x Reader

Chapter Twelve: Just Let Me Adore You

Masterlist ° Chapter List

Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Reader (she/her)

Summary: Michael takes you someplace special for your first date, and you have the best night of your life.

Warnings: Fluff. Like seriously, this is fluffy as fuck. 9k words of pure fluff.

Word Count: 9.1k (I am so sorry this got a bit out of hand)

A/n: You have a bit of suggestive language in here, but nothing explicit. That’s reserved for the next chapter, which will be a pure Smut update. I thought I’d keep the goods to myself for a little while longer and give you a break before the Angst Train drives into the Michael Kinsella station…

You have been to a few dates in the past. Most of them ended in a dirty bar or a restaurant, but you at least knew what you were signing yourself up for.

When Michael texted you while you were at work, telling you he would be waiting at your front door at nine in the evening exactly, you of course texted back and asked where he would be taking you, but he didn’t react to that.

So you text him again, ‘Just tell me so I know what to wear :(‘

‘Wear something u feel comfortable in xx,’ is all he replies.

Something comfortable is a broad range of clothes and it doesn’t help your confusion at all. No matter how many times you keep pressing him, he won’t tell you where he is taking you, and that makes you uneasy.

He told you he would use the time he has left today to get his records straight and make an appointment with the solicitor that is helping him get visitation rights for Anna.

The copy of the contract Ava whipped up for him has been in his hands like precious cargo ever since you left the office building. He insisted to walk to his house from the café, which isn’t that long of a walk compared to your apartment, and you only hesitantly agreed to let him back there after everything he told you.

He insisted that he needed to do this because he has to somehow learn how to navigate his life on his own again after staying with you for a few days. Things are different now, he told you, and you had to agree because he has a new job now and you haven’t been together long enough to move in together, so you both need to coordinate things on your own.

Once he knows what his chances of seeing Anna again are, he has to take the necessary steps to assure the court of granting him those rights. Another thing you agree with. You support him fully, but the thought of his family somehow luring him back in and then you’ll lose him – it’s not the crime you’re worried about, it’s losing him to jail or a gun or any other weapon that might kill and take him away from you – keeps occupying your mind.

A stable home, a job, and a good track record do wonders when it comes to cases that involve children. He needs that. The meeting with Ava gave him a boost you didn’t expect, but he seemed lighter and a lot more motivated when you kissed him goodbye. And he seems stable enough on his own, no longer angry or sad, which is also something you never thought you’d say.

It might be the adrenaline, but you like to believe he is on a good path and he cherishes that enough to see things a lot more positively this time around.

He told you he loved you. It still hasn’t fully settled in, but you said it back because it’s true; you love him. It’s a surreal scene in your head and you have been floating ever since you clocked in.

There are only a few more hurdles in the way. For one, it’s your past. For two, Michael’s family. And three, there is still a chance a judge won’t rule in Michael's favor, and that might actually break him. You hope that the meeting with his solicitor goes well, at least, and he gets to have a chance at getting to know his little girl again. You want nothing more for him.

He was right when he asked if the reason you understand his situation so well was because of your sister. You’re not a mother, but you’ve felt like one many times in the past and it’s a kind of love that never dies.

You should tell him the truth, you think. About everything, not just your sister but the rest of your family as well. He needs to know who you are and what baggage you’re carrying. It’s baggage that could affect your relationship once it takes a turn for the worse. You want to be honest, but where would you even begin to explain the shit show your life was before you moved to Ireland?

You can see the hope clearer now. You have someone by your side who is willing to do anything for you if you as much as asked him, he said so himself, without knowing the full story, and that means you can trust him. You know you can. But you don’t know if you can trust yourself.

You’re always worried for those you love, and you’re always on the lookout. It’s not like your secrets could end in a war; you’re carrying a dark past that might come to haunt you one day, but that would be entirely on you. You can’t drag Michael into that, no matter how much you want to because once you get hurt, he won’t be able to live with himself.

He might start worrying too much, trying to fix your situation, but there is nothing that can be fixed. You have to sneak around with your own sister to even know she’s alive, and it has always been this way, at least ever since you moved away, and you would have to continue doing so before–

You shake the dark thoughts off. You were so happy a few seconds ago, thinking about Michael and your future and your feelings for him, and the thoughts about your family didn’t hesitate to overshadow the little light he lit in your heart. But you won’t allow them to do that. You love Maya, you love her more than life itself, and you’re going to do anything in your power to keep her safe once it comes down to it, but things are okay right now. You can look at it with a clear head and make a wise decision instead of a rushed one, maybe even make a plan and find another way than the ones you’ve mapped out before.

You need to take what little peace you have now and use it for good instead of being a reckless idiot and letting the memories of your past that the last few weeks have triggered in you affect the way you live your life.

And maybe then you can talk to Michael about everything and take the helping hand he has offered you.

Looking back at Michael’s ominous text about your equally as mysterious date, you frown. You considered a few different possibilities. He could be taking you to a less fancy dinner, or he could be taking you to the park, which would explain why your clothes have to be comfortable, but you’re not sure, and that irks you.

You ask him again, but all he sends back is a winky emoji. Up until this point, you didn’t even know he was capable of using emojis. He always seems so confused with electronic devices of any kind, it’s endearing. But he’s just a normal human being who has been away for a long time and now he’s experiencing the world again in a brand new light and that can be fucking confusing.

He’s a father, but he lost eight years with his daughter and now he’s deemed a danger by many, especially the woman taking care of his daughter, and he’s not even sure if she wants to see him, and that is even more confusing for him because he has never learned how to deal with all of these emotions.

Michael always had to function for everyone else around him. He never had a chance to discover who he is and what he wants, even though he had what he wanted for a while, but that was taken from him again and now he has to learn how to live with the guilt and with himself. It’s hard. You get it.

You’ve been there, in a way. Your situations are different, but you feel a deeper understanding because you relate to his pain, and that’s what makes you love him so much more. He’s trying in more ways than one, and that should be acknowledged. He should have someone to support him, even if it can’t be his own family.

He’s not a servant, he’s a human being; he deserves to be treated accordingly.

“Thanks for nothing,” you grumble to yourself, still not close to deciphering what he is planning to do with you.

Part of you is hoping it will end in bed at the end of the night because you’re weirdly horny – checking your period tracker, you notice that you’re ovulating, and it makes sense that you suddenly want to jump his bones while he’s not even near, which will also make for an interesting night, but you push that thought away to focus on the mystery at hand.

What is he planning for your date?

Michael can be such a tease if he wants to be.

Soon enough, after getting home and taking a long shower for your aching muscles, you find yourself panicking in front of your closet like a teenager.

You would consider yourself a romantic; you love rom-coms and romance movies, and you love going on dates as long as they’re meaningful. Atop the broken heart you carry inside, there’s a protective wrap that has been built up on fiction and romanticizing your life. It’s the only way you survived as a child and is surviving now, but living so much in your head prevents you from seeing reality clearly, and that tends to hurt you. You hurt yourself by ignoring the truth, as you did with Maya, and then things turn to shit. Michael is your little beacon of hope. He’s your lucky charm.

You haven’t finished a book or a story because you’re still hung up on the past and it seems like too much of a responsibility. Or maybe you don’t feel capable enough.

You never had support. It wasn’t a lie when you said your parents weren’t happy with your career choice and that’s why you left, but it isn’t the full truth, and the real reason why you left runs deeper. You thought you could start writing once you’re far away from that hellhole, but everything you have started since then landed in the trash because you get insecure, and then you realize that what you have romanticized isn’t true and you don’t ever go back to it.

Maybe it is time to change that now. Your eyes flick to your laptop. The Duke and his promised badass Princess of a promised wife are waiting for you to stretch your fingers and start typing, but once again the claws around your heart pull you back. You can’t. You shouldn’t.

But maybe it’s time that you do, anyway.

You turn back to your outfit for the night, which you haven’t decided on yet and it’s already half past eight.

Only one date in your entire life has been thoroughly thought-out, and the guy dumped you after that.

Frustrated and out of your mind, you dial Sarah’s number and hope she has some smart advice for you since she is the one out of you two who is addicted to going on dates every chance she gets.

After a few rings, she picks up. “Hello!” she cheerily answers. “What is my favorite sunshine up to? Couldn’t go a day without me?”

You plop down on your bed. “I need your help,” you say.

“With what?”

“Picking an outfit for a date.”

There is a short pause before she sighs. “So Mister Mobster asked ya out?” she says. “Is it like to celebrate his ass gettin’ hired or somethin’? Because if it’s bout tha’, I still haven’t been able to fully accept your text message.”

“I’m sorry I did it over text, Sarah, but you weren’t working today and I didn’t have the time to call. And it’s not just a celebratory date, I… we… okay, promise you won’t hate me after this?”

“Depends on what yer about to tell me.”

“He told me he loved me,” you admit.

“Oh for fuck’s sake!” She takes another deep, dramatic breath. “I am not nearly drunk enough for this.”

“You said you’d accept him!” Your voice changes pitch. “You said you’d try and I want you to try. For me. Because… because once you meet him—”

“What, I’m gonna like him?” she cuts you off. “Ya know it’s not that easy to look over all the crimes he’s been involved in, right? You were the one who told me about all of tha’, so it’s kinda your fault, too.”

Silence settles between you. She is a lot more composed than the first time around, but her frustration is still palpable. You can’t say you blame her; you can’t blame her, not after you ran to her when you first found out and you, yourself, were still somewhat uneasy. Sarah cares about you. This isn't just about Michael’s past, this is about her not wanting you to get hurt, and if she knew about your past, she would take it even more seriously. That is just the kind of person she is and you love that about her.

You look up at the ceiling. Your voice sounds brittle when you finally speak, but she can feel the passion and the devotion radiating off of your tongue with every word. “I love him,” you say, “and I want to be with him. You either accept it or you don’t, but I want to turn his head more than once tonight and I do plan to get thoroughly fucked at the end of this, so I could really use your expertise on the outfit. I’m not asking for relationship advice, I’m just asking for you to be my friend.”

Sarah lets out a long, exasperated sigh on the other end of the line. You can almost picture her rolling her eyes before finally speaking. “Alright, alright, I get it. Ya really know how to pull the guilt card, don't ya?” she says, her voice tinged with a mix of annoyance and amusement. “Fine, I'll help you. But don't expect me to suddenly embrace Mister Mob-Daddy-That-Said-I-Love-You-First with open arms. I do want ya to have a good night though, and I want ya t’be devoured ‘cause honestly if he's good in bed, ya go get him, girl.”

You chuckle at her enthusiastic response.

“Now, puttin’ aside the fact that I still don’t understand why you fell fer a mobster, out of all people, let’s talk about this date. Where is he takin’ ya?”

“That’s the thing,” you say with a look at your closet. “I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know?” she asks.

“It means I don’t know. He wouldn’t tell me. He said he’ll pick me up at nine and we’ll walk there together.”

“That’s… ominous.”

“Yeah, but not in a dangerous sense. Don’t even start.”

She throws her hands up, the rustling of her dress betrays her. “I wasn’t even sayin’ anything!”

“You were thinking it,” you retort. “No. He told me to wear something comfortable. That is all I know about tonight, and it’s freaking me out. That’s why I called you. I’m not good with clothes. I need your help.”

“Okay, okay,” she caves, “I’ll help ya. In fact, I do you one better and tell you exactly what to wear.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Oh, really?”

“Yeah, I know yer wardrobe inside and out and I know exactly what you should wear tonight with Mister Mysterious Mobster on your Mysterious Mobster Date.”

“Would you stop saying mobster?” you say and try to sound annoyed, but your lip twitches into a smirk anyway. “He’s just Michael,” you add.

“Just Michael it is then,” she says, and you can hear the smile in her voice. “For tonight, I’m gonna accept that.”

“Thank you, Sarah, I–”

“Silence!” Her voice echoes dramatically in your ear, and she puts on a fake posh accent that has you cringing. “Let’s find you something marvelous to wear, my dear.”

“Only if you drop the accent.”

“Fine. Way to ruin the fun, but anyway…”

She picks a pair of jeans she weirdly knows exactly where to find. They’re your most comfortable pair, and she chooses a top to match with that, which she says will be easier to take off, and you once again wonder how many times she analyzed your closet when she visited you.

“Throw on some ankle boots, a denim jacket, and those cute little butterfly earrings you have,” she continues. “Cross-body bag, red lipstick, hair tied back with a butterfly clip and you’re a hundred percent yourself but also smoking hot. Oh, and don’t forget to wear that green lingerie set. The one with the lace. I think he’s gonna love that.”

You stare at the outfit on your bed, a little surprised that she managed to put together something that screams your name, but it's also a little more adventurous. When you consider that on your first night with Michael, you wore the ugliest underwear known to man, and the next day you did it again; he never minded because underwear, in his eyes, is something that demands to be taken off, but wearing lingerie would drive him crazy nonetheless, and you feel a little better about yourself when you think about tonight. Sarah's choice boosts your confidence.

“I don’t even want to know how you know all of my clothes,” you say, “but thank you, Sarah. This is… this is going to work great.”

Sarah laughs on the other end of the line. “A girl's gotta have her secrets, sunshine,” she answers. “Just remember to have a fabulous time tonight and enjoy every moment.”

You can hear the sincerity in her voice, and it warms your heart. Sarah has always been there for you, supporting you in her unique way. You appreciate a friend who is not afraid to say what she truly thinks.

You carry your outfit into the bathroom, squeezing the phone between your shoulder and ear. “I'll let you know how it goes,” you tell her. She requires you to give details whenever you go out, and tonight is not going to be any different.

She claps. “Of course! I want all the juicy details. Top to bottom. Bed to the dining table. His end to your end. I need it all!”

You laugh, your cheeks flushing bright red. “Oh, God! That's... that's a lot of details.” But you can feel yourself getting lighter and more excited than before. “Thank you. I will update you,” you say. “And send you pictures. Of the outfit, I mean.”

The smirk in her voice is audible when she retorts, “I don't mind other pictures…”

“Okay,” you remove the phone from your ear, “No nudes for you. Bye, bye!”

And you hang up on her, your lips still curled into a smile, and as you watch yourself in the mirror you can tell that it’s not just pretense – you’re happy.

Taylor Swift blares in the background as you start getting ready. You slip into the carefully chosen outfit, making sure every detail is in place.

You know he won't care that much; he prefers you to wear what you want, and it's something no man has ever told you before. It is the bare minimum, but it draws you to him even more because he accepts you and accepts that you're your own person capable of making your own choices, and it means he appreciates your style at least to a certain point.

The jeans Sarah picked hug your curves just right, and the top accentuates your figure in all the best ways. As you fasten the ankle boots and put on the denim jacket, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. You have struggled to accept yourself for a while, but you can't deny that you look pretty.

The lingerie underneath is a small, intimate secret that only you know, a little surprise waiting to be revealed. A gift to be unwrapped. It will drive Michael wild once he discovers you're wearing it, and your heart skips a beat when you think about the things he would do to you.

With your hair tied back and the butterfly earrings adorning your ears, you take a moment to apply the bold red lipstick. A bold lip goes a long way, Sarah once said, and she stands firmly by that. Lipstick often wears off after a while, but she got you one that is actually kiss-safe; Michael would kiss you even with lipgloss on, but you don't want to annoy him with the taste too much.

Looking at your reflection one last time, you feel confident.

Taking a deep breath, you grab your phone and keys, slipping them into the cross-body bag. For a night, you can allow yourself to let go just a little and enjoy yourself with the man you love.

Love. It's still such a big word and it feels weird to even think about it, but at the same time the thought alone fills you with endless warmth and you can't believe he is yours, and he has vowed to be yours now.

At nine exactly, there is a knock on your door. You take a deep breath. This feels like your first-ever date and you’re nervous, but you’re also excited. This is new for both of you, but you are determined to make it work.

When you open the door, Michael stands there wearing his best black jacket, the tight-fitting green sweater underneath that he wore the first time you met and a pair of jeans that hug him just right. His hair is messy, but in a way that seems wanted. He seems to have trimmed his beard and he’s wearing clean shoes instead of his dirty boots tonight.

He cleans up nicely, and he looks good. He is a sight to behold and your cheeks flush bright red at the sight of him.

What makes it worse though is the bouquet of daisies and beautiful violets in his hands. He’s not carrying classical roses or tulips; the bouquet is colorful and adorned with the sweetest flowers you know, and the scent hits you just right.

Your heart skips a beat. He remembered little details about you that you don’t even consciously notice about yourself, and if that isn’t a silent gesture to tell you how much he loves you, you don’t know what is. Telling you the truth must have taken him a lot of courage, and he might struggle to do so again, which you understand, but he’s showing it to you and that’s more than enough.

Michael’s jaw drops when he sees you. His lips carry a small smile of surprise, his cheeks soon matching your color as he takes in the sight of you, shamelessly checking you out. The flowers quiver in his hands and he has to refrain from throwing them aside, pushing you back into your apartment, and fucking you right there against the wall.

“Wow,” he exhales.

You return the sentiment, subconsciously reaching out to touch one of the violets that are pointed in your direction. “Wow,” you murmur.

“You look…” He licks his lips, struggling to find a word that conveys your beauty. He’s awestruck, and his mind stops functioning.

He was stupid enough to plan a whole speech to make this night perfect, but you stole his breath and now he can’t seem to get it back. You’ve stolen all of him, but he loves that because that means he is yours – body, mind, and soul – and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

You brush a strand of hair behind your ear. “I wasn’t sure what to wear,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “Because I wasn’t sure where we’re going and you said to dress comfortably, not to dress up, but then I didn’t feel comfortable just wearing something random, and you said comfortable, so I tried out a few things, called Sarah, and… here I am.” You open your arms, awkwardly showing off your whole outfit to him. “I hope it’s enough,” you say.

He blinks a few times, his mouth opening and closing. He looks like a computer trying to reboot after a circuit failure. You watch him, your eyebrows furrowed. Does he not like it? You put a lot of effort into your outfit — Sarah did, anyway. You feel pretty, but what if he doesn’t think so?

You would never let your worth be defined by a man, let alone him, but it would hurt a little because you wanted to look good for both of you tonight. You wanted him to enjoy looking at you as if you were a meal he can’t resist. You take his silence as a bad sign, insecurities eating away at you, until he finally snaps out of his trance when he sees hurt flash across your face.

“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful,” he says.

Maybe you were expecting the worst, after all. Your blush deepens out of embarrassment this time, looking down at your feet to hide it.

“Oh, and... I, uh... got these for ya," he stammers, realizing he forgot to mention the flowers. “I dunno if they're your favorite, but... I noticed you like violets and daisies 'cause ya have a lot of scented things…” He offers the bouquet to you. “Couldn’t exactly get ya a vanilla plant.”

Well done, Michael. He internally curses himself for the stupid joke. But then you laugh and his worries fade away.

“First date means flowers, right? Or so I’ve heard. I’m not up-to-date on date culture. Is tha’... Is tha’ what they call it? Date culture?”

You only start laughing more.

The lighthearted tone brings a smile to his face. You cover your mouth, trying to stifle your laughter, but it still fills the room with its song and his heart with warmth.

“First date, date culture, whatever you want to call it,” you say after calming down, and you take the flowers from him with a smile. “And these flowers... they're perfect, Michael. Thank you.”

He exhales a sigh of relief. “I'm glad you like them,” he says. “I was worried I got the wrong ones or somethin'.”

You delicately hold the vibrant blooms in your hands, tracing the petals with your fingers. You get lost in thought for a moment before turning back to him. “They're exactly what I needed. And what I wanted. No one…” you trail off, your chest heaving with a sigh. “No one’s gotten me flowers before,” you admit. “So, thank you.”

Michael's cheeks turn a shade of pink, matching the color of the flowers in your hands. “I... I wanted to make tonight special. I know we're both new at this, but I want it to be a night to remember. And yer so beautiful, you deserve all the flowers.”

Your eyes crinkle. “I'm already having a night to remember.��

“I'm glad,” he says, matching your soft smile. “So…” He switches between the bouquet and your face, and you take it as a hint to put them aside. “Should we go? I, uh, have a surprise for ya.”

His smile looks genuine and you love how the happiness defines his dimples and magnifies the wrinkles in the corners of his eyes, and the hazel of his irises glows like fire whenever he smiles.

You nod. “Yeah, sure. Let’s go.”

As you make your way out of your apartment complex, he takes your hand in the chilly night air, offering you warmth and something to hold onto, and you make your way down the street, away from the gas station that has given you one too many sleepless nights. He walks close to you as if to shield you from any possible danger, and every so often you look at him to find him peeking over his shoulder behind you.

“What are you looking for?” you ask eventually, growing a little uneasy yourself.

Michael chuckles softly, his breath creating a small cloud in the cool air. “Just makin' sure nobody's followin' us,” he tells you. “Can't be too careful, can we?”

His nerves are playing cruel tricks on him. Alone the thought of missing something and getting you hurt makes his blood run cold, and he urges you to walk a little faster to get out of the darkest part of town somewhere he knows no one has stationed any suppliers that interact with him or his family – and that is where you are safest.

You walk for a while in silence. Time continues passing by, the night air brushing through your hair and his own, creating a cool yet gentle atmosphere around you. He squeezes your hand for warmth as you continue.

Eventually, you come to a stop. You can hear the faint sound of music and laughter in the distance, and you crane your neck to get a better view, but Michael’s hands soon cover your eyes.

You can hear the smirk in his voice when he whispers in your ear, “It’s a surprise.”

“I hate surprises,” you murmur, grabbing onto his wrists.

“Ya’ll like this one, trust me.”

You trust him to walk you toward your destination, but you’re weary about his coordination skills. You feel helpless with your eyes covered. After a few steps, you relax a little, but it’s still unsettling.

“You ready?” he asks you then.

You nod eagerly. “Just show me already.”

The laughing and music get louder, followed by high-pitched ringing and the smell of popcorn, corndogs, and candy floss.

You giggle when he presses his lips to the back of your neck, trying to pull the hands away from your eyes. “Where are–” you begin, but then he allows you to open your eyes and you’re so surprised, you forget what you wanted to ask.

In front of you, there is a small carnival. It’s so small, you can overlook it from inside, but the lights are brighter than ever, shining in different hues of red, blue, green, orange, and purple and other variations of the color wheel. Music is playing in different parts, but it all blends well. There is an auto scooter in the middle, a Ferris Wheel at the end, different booths with games and food, and you can make out some smaller carousels for children.

Glitter is strewn around, feathers of boas pass by you, and you see a clown somewhere. Balloon animals are being made in one corner while in the other, a couple is laughing loudly as they get out of the bumper car area. There is also a faster ride with spinning teacups and a freefall tower, but there is not much more to it.

This is probably the tamest carnival you have ever seen, but the scenery is breathtaking. The music is phenomenal. You find yourself in awe of the lights and the artworks painted on the attractions. You love the layout of the booths, as far as you can see them, and the photo booth catches your eye; you haven’t seen one of these in a while.

Your heart swells as memories flood over you, but they’re kind and they’re somewhat happy, and you realize that this is an escape like the one you sought when you were a child. For many, this is an escape right now.

You’re not sure what’s more beautiful, the lights or Michael, but you have to settle for the man beside you because his eyes are just as wide, but not because of what he sees inside the carnival, he’s only looking at you.

“Oh, my God,” you whisper, still looking around. Your lips curl into a smile. You squeal. You feel like a teenager again. “Michael, this is–” There are no words to describe how nostalgia makes you feel.

He smiles shyly. “Ya like it?” he asks.

“Like it? I–” You stare at him, your mouth still agape. Without a word, you step forward and press your lips against his.

Michael kisses back, his arms coming to wrap around your waist. Music and laughter blend into the background. It’s just the two of you right now, illuminated by the color-changing lights and the comfort of your lips.

You break apart breathlessly after a few seconds. “I…” you shake your head in disbelief. “I love it. I love you.” The most childish giggle escapes your lips. “But you’re fucking mad!”

He chuckles, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Why am I mad?”

“Because… because you brought me here. To a mini carnival.” You emphasize the size, but the way you say it makes it sound cute. “In the middle of the night with all of the lights,” you say, “It’s truly beautiful. You are beautiful. This…” You break apart, opening your arms as if to show him the obvious. “This is beautiful.”

The sounds of laughter and music from the carnival blend with the pounding of your heart. He leans back in. “I wanted to create a moment tha' was just for us, somethin' that would make you feel like a kid again. And seein' that smile on yer face, knowin' that I could bring you joy like this... it means the world to me.”

“You're insane in the best possible way,” you repeat. “Who else would think of a mini carnival as a surprise?”

He brushes his thumb gently against your cheek. “I love you too, more than words can express,” he whispers, the carnival almost drowning out his voice. “And seein' ya happy like this, it's all I ever wanted. Means mission accomplished.”

You find yourself lost in his eyes, the vibrant lights of the carnival reflecting in them. “You're beautiful,” you whisper back. “Thank you so much.”

He kisses you softly again, this time making sure to savor every moment. You break apart with a mischievous glimmer in your eye, grabbing his hand, and you tug him playfully toward the entrance. “Come on now! Let's have some fun.”

He lowers his head with a chuckle before allowing you to drag him with you into the carnival, his heart a million pounds lighter now that he is with you.

Michael pays for the tickets, and he pays for the drinks you get once you enter because you wouldn’t admit that you’re thirsty, so he forces you to have something to drink before you pass out in the crowded space.

Surprisingly, it’s not as crowded as you expected. There is a lack of children because it’s the middle of the week and they’re all asleep in their beds, and the teenagers that are there to waste their time away don’t bother anyone but themselves. You see a few couples walking around, but there are not that many people, and it offers you and Michael some time just for yourselves. It’s almost as if he planned it to be this empty, and maybe he did, but if he did, you appreciate his efforts because you hate crowds, anyway.

Seeing the flashing lights and listening to the high-pitched noise of some of the attractions, you wearily roam your eyes over Michael’s face for any sign of discomfort.

“Are you sure we should be here?” you ask.

He frowns. “Why?”

“Your seizures…”

He says your name, pulling you into his arms as you stop in front of one of the most colorful rides. The passengers in the wagon get tossed around and they’re all laughing, even though you know the plastic can hurt. It’s a lot of fun, you remember.

“Can we please not talk about tha’ tonight?” he says. “Please? I just want to have a good night with ya. Just you and me and forget about everythin’ else. Can we do that?”

Your eyes soften, your hand coming up to rest on his cheeks. “I’m just worried,” you say.

Flashing lights and loud noises are triggers for epileptic seizures. He doesn’t know what he has, but his seizures paint a picture of their own, and without medication, he could get triggered. You don’t want him to get hurt when you’re supposed to be having fun. But you also don’t want him to feel like you’re walking on eggshells around him. He knows his body and condition probably better than you do because you can’t feel what he’s feeling. You’re simply worried, and his eyes tell you that he knows, but he still doesn’t like to dwell on it.

“I’m okay,” he assures you. “I’d tell ya if I wasn’t, but lights… lights usually don’t give me seizures. I can ride rollercoasters and all of tha’, I think. It’s… I don’t know, it happens when I’m– I’m stressed. Hasn’t happened anywhere else before, so I’m alright.”

You sigh. He wouldn’t lie to you after telling you the truth, you know that. And maybe it’s good that you know in case something happens, but you hope it won’t.

“I love you.” You lean in to brush your lips over his.

He brings his lips to your forehead, pressing a gentle kiss on the skin there. “I love ya too,” he says.

“So… you won’t mind if we ride that thing over there?”

Following the line your finger is pointing, Michael’s eyes widen visibly when you point to the moving teacups on the platform a little further away. They continuously keep spinning, and he can already feel himself getting nauseous at the thought.

“Oh!” you exclaim happily when you see the free-fall tower so close to you. “Or that one?”

His eyes are still wide in shock when he stares back at you. “I thought we were gonna ride bumper cars,” he says, “not… not defy death.”

You burst out laughing. “What, as if you’re afraid of carnival rides?”

He doesn’t answer.

“Wait. Michael Kinsella, are you afraid of carnival rides? Or is it heights? Don’t tell me it’s heights.”

He blushes. “That thing falls!” he tries to defend himself as he points toward the tower. “And that one…” he can’t find the words for the spinning tea cups because they just look ridiculous. “Teacups don’t spin,” he says. “And towers are not supposed to… fall.”

Your laughter turns into a soft, teasing giggle as you pull him close and kiss him. The kiss is tender and he melts under your touch, though the fear in his veins remains. When he decided to take you there he was thinking about riding the things Anna used to ride when she was little like bumper cars, a carousel, or the Ferris wheel, not whatever you just pointed out to him. He always steered clear of that.

“Michael Kinsella, part of the most dangerous crime family in Dublin,” you sigh dramatically, “and he is afraid of carnival rides.”

That makes him seem so human, all you can do is pinch his cheeks and kiss him all over.

“Don’t judge me.” Michael pouts at you. “I’m not a fan. I like bumper cars though.”

His smile warms your heart. It looks giddy, a little shy, maybe, but it’s an honest smile.

“I like bumper cars too,” you say. “Perhaps we should try that out then.”

“Yeah.”

“And then we could ride… the carousel with the little animals as wagons?”

“Mhm.”

“Ferris wheel?”

“Only if ya hold my hand,” he says.

You chuckle, taking his hand in yours already as you make your way to the bumper car area. “That can be managed, my dear.”

The sounds of laughter and the aroma of carnival treats fill the air, heightening the atmosphere.

“You wanna drive with me?” you ask when it's your turn.

He smirks and shakes his head. What you didn't expect was for him, who claims he doesn't have a license, to be so good at bumper cars – and then you remember that he might have lost it and that he knows how to drive, he just isn't allowed to, and in that case, it makes you competitive.

You and Michael strap yourselves into separate cars, your eyes focused on each other. Your cars are several rows apart, but you can make out each other just fine, and he looks as if he's about to destroy you. As the ride starts with a blaring song through the speakers, he maneuvers his car with surprising skill, finding you and bumping straight into your car. You gasp, blowing the hair out of your face.

“You're going to regret that,” you say.

Hitting the gas pedal, you chase after him now, the people in your way disappearing as you bump them out of the way to back him into a corner. And you manage to do so until he puts the car into reverse and bumps you back.

“Rude!” You bump him right back.

He laughs. “Not so smart now, huh?” he retorts.

“Oh, fuck off!”

“You first!”

You keep chasing each other around the track until you’re both laughing like maniacs. The cars come to a halt and you struggle to get the seatbelt off after being tossed around so much.

Michael, ever the gentleman, offers you his hand and helps you out of the vehicle. You poke his tongue out at him, but you take it anyway.

After the first ride, you make your way to the carousel, hand in hand. The colorful lights and the gentle music create a magical ambiance as you choose your favorite animal to ride. You both simultaneously point out the unicorn, and it feels like you're mentally connected in a way. You find comfort in the simplicity of the carousel, the feeling of the wind in your hair, and the warmth of Michael's hand in yours.

He watches you as you lean back, closing your eyes and simply enjoying it like the few kids in the wagons around you. It's a moment spent in absolute silence, and you wouldn't have it any other way. In this world, it is just the two of you, and you are having the time of your lives. All the worries fade into the background, overshadowed by the comfort of each other's arms.

Finally, after another ride with the carousel, you reach the Ferris wheel, the grand centerpiece of the carnival. It is much smaller than the London Eye, obviously, but you prefer it that way. As you step into the gondola and the wheel starts moving, Michael clasps your hand.

The metal feels unstable under him, and it is a lot shakier than the stable gondolas in a bigger Ferris wheel, but you find that to be the beauty of it. With a soft chuckle, you squeeze his hand and encourage him to place his head on your shoulder until you have reached the top.

“Don't laugh,” he says with a pout, and you try not to, but the thought of Michael Kinsella having a fear of heights still amuses you.

The view from the top is breathtaking, to say the least. You nudge him to open his eyes and take a look around Dublin with you, the city lights forming little blobs on the night sky, and you can make out the river as the moon reflects off it. The stars barely stand a chance against downtown, but once you turn around and look in the direction where nature is, you can make out the different constellations, and you point out Orion to him.

“It’s so beautiful,” you whisper.

“Yeah,” says Michael, but when you turn to him, he is looking directly at you. “The sight is truly breathtakin’.”

You blush, turning your head away, but he catches your chin and pulls you back toward him.

“Don’t look away from me…”

You shiver at the sound of his voice. “Sorry.”

He strokes your cheek, then your jawline before resting his hand on your throat, feeling your pulse jump at his subtle touch, and then he finally leans in to kiss you. With the stars in the background and the city in the distance alive and bustling, you find yourself enveloped in your bubble again.

As you kiss under the stars for the first time, illuminated by the colorful lights of the carnival high atop the Ferris wheel, you continue falling deeper and deeper in love with him.

The world seems to fade away as you lose yourself in the moment, in the gentle caress of his lips against yours. With each passing second, your hearts beat more and more in harmony, aligning like the planets that make the stars.

As you break apart, breathless and filled with a sense of wonder, Michael stares at you.

“I never want this moment to end,” he says.

You smile, tracing the outline of his nose. “Me neither,” you say.

“You remind me of a star.”

“Why?”

“Because yer bright… and you fill me with wonder.”

“Wonder?”

“Yeah, wonder.” He kisses you again even softer. “I’m just mesmerized by ya.”

“Good,” you smile, “because I feel the same way about you.”

The Ferris wheel shakes, and your moment is torn in two as Michael grabs onto your arm. You try not to laugh, but you fail miserably.

“And we’re goin’ down,” he says.

You look away, but your laugh reaches his ears, and he pouts all the way down, making sure you feel every last bit of his displeasure. But you can’t help it; the sight is too adorable not to laugh.

Passing by the many booths littered along the carnival as you walk away from the Ferris wheel, you notice one with particularly fluffy stuffed animals lined along the walls.

“I’ve always wanted one,” you point out. “Had a small one as a kid, but I… lost it.”

He looks at you and then the teddy bears you’re pointing at. It’s one of these games where you get a rifle and have to shoot a target – but it’s not real; it’s filled with air. He bites his cheek, then grins at you.

“What?”

He tugs at your arm as he pulls you along toward the booth.

“Hey,” he greets the owner. “I’d like ta take a shot at winnin’ that bear up there. The big one?”

The man eyes him curiously, then looks behind him to see you. “She belong to ya?” he asks.

Michael doesn’t like the way he’s looking at you. His eyes darken, and his fingers brush the rifle. If those held real bullets, he would give the man the fright of his life. Still, he takes it and charges it expertly, his attention focused on him.

The man’s eyes switch from you to him, Michael’s sour smile almost taking him out. He looks dangerous with his jaw clenched and hand wrapped around a gun that wasn’t meant to hurt anyone, but he could make it work if he wanted to.

“If my girl wants a teddy bear,” Michael says, “I’m winnin’ her a teddy bear. Now, may I take my shots, sir?”

You’re not surprised when he hits all targets on the first try. The owner of the booth didn’t see it coming, but you are more than happy when he takes down the biggest teddy bear and hands it to you. His hand is shaking.

Michael winks, pulling him down further when he hands the gun back. “If ya ever look at another woman the same way ya just looked at my girlfriend again in yer miserable life,” he says, his voice bordering on a growl, and his eyes bore into the man’s, “trust me that I’ll come back here with a real gun and make sure it’s the last time ya ever lay eyes or yer dirty little fingers on one again. Ya don’t wanna mess with me. We clear?”

He swallows, all color fading from his skin.

“I asked ya somethin’–“ Michael’s fist collides with the counter, but it’s a silent collision that only catches the attention of the one it needs to; you seem oblivious, even though maybe a little curious. “D’ya hear me?” he repeats. “I won’t tell ya twice. The next time, ya won’t be so fuckin’ lucky.”

“Yeah, got tha’,” the man is quick to respond. “I’m sorry, I–“

“Shut up. Just let her have the teddy bear and move on.”

I get dangerously angry, sometimes, when someone touches what’s mine.

He is not a mind reader, but Michael knew from the moment the at least sixty-year-old man first stared at you he would have done something if he hadn’t been there. And then someone could have bought his hands off the dark web after Michael would have cut them off with a dull knife.

Michael offers the man a big smile and wishes him a good night before taking your hand and the teddy bear and pulling you away from the possible danger he saw in him.

“What was that about?” you ask, curious about what could have conspired between the two men.

It didn’t look friendly and neither did it sound like it, but you were too focused on your new stuffed animal to really pay attention. And you don’t really care, anyway. Michael must have had his reasons.

He simply presses a kiss on your temple instead of answering and says, “Nothin’. All good here. Let’s take a walk.”

You walk the last few meters in silence, your arms hugged around your new toy and his hands buried in the pockets of his jeans. The silence isn’t uncomfortable or loaded. You’re enjoying each other's company without disturbing it with words.

After a while, Michael contemplates, his eyebrows furrowing before he looks up at you and admits, “I used to bring Anna here all the time when she was little.”

You meet his eyes. “You did?” you ask.

“Yeah, she, uh, loved bumper cars and everythin’ that was blinkin’, so…” he smiles to himself. “The guys from the carnival come here every few months, and it’s always been a happy place fer us, so I thought it could be yours, too. Ours, maybe. I don’t know.”

You used to take Maya to carnivals all the time when she was younger. It was your way of getting a few hours of freedom without fights or violence, and you always made sure to check out all the rides and win stuffed animals. You ate your way through half of the booths and came out with a sugar rush, but every night was worth it.

His confession weighs heavily on you because even the happiest memories are now overshadowed by a different kind of memory, and it causes the muscles around your heart to contract in agony.

“I’m sure she loved it,” you say with a soft smile, even though the smile is fake.

“She did,” he says, and he grows a bit quieter now, too.

To lighten the mood, you tug at his arm and point toward the photo booth. “What do you say we try that next?”

He frowns. “Seriously?”

“Yeah. Deadly.”

“I don’t usually take photos of myself. I hate ‘em.”

“But it’s not just you, is it?” you say. Your eyes crinkle again. “Please? Just a few pictures of the two of us together? And Mister Bear?” You use the teddy’s hand to wave at him.

Michael chuckles. “Mister Bear?” he asks.

“Yes, that’s his name. If you don’t want to take a picture with me, I will trade you for him as my cuddle buddy.”

He raises his eyebrows at your playful threat. The smirk gives you away, but he still fears you might replace him for the stuffed animal in the end if he doesn’t comply. “Alright,” he caves, “let’s take some pictures of us. But I can’t promise they’re gonna be good.”

You pull him into the photo booth with an excited giggle. “You always look good.”

“Beg to differ.”

“Beg all you want, it’s not gonna get you out of this one,” you say.

You get five pictures in a row – five attempts at striking the poses you want to in the small booth.

During the first shot, Michael manages to look particularly grimy, so for the second one, you decide to force the teddy bear in his face, which makes him laugh just as the flash goes off. Then, for the next one, you lean your head against his shoulder and smile, and he has never looked more endearing. You decide to do a silly pose for the fourth one, and he joins in, now feeling less serious about himself. As you stare into each other’s eyes for the three-second break, you let the inner urge take over and kiss him on the lips just as the flash goes off and captures the moment between you.

Walking out of the booth, Michael is quick to catch the photo strips to be the first one to look at them; thankfully, you get two versions, so you both each get to carry the memory of that day with you.

He smiles when he sees the pictures, he genuinely smiles, and he puts the strip into his wallet where there is an empty photo slot.

“We look cute,” you say, pointing at the last picture. “Especially in that one.”

He chuckles, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “We do look cute when we kiss, don’t we?” he says.

“We do, indeed. But not just when we kiss. We always look cute.”

“Sure, always.”

You store it away in your cross-body bag, not wanting it to get ruined by dirt or accidentally lose it.

You are about ready to make your way to the exit when he checks the time on his watch and stops you in your tracks by calling your name. “I have one more surprise for tonight,” he says.

“One more surprise?” you ask.

“Yeah, one more. C’mon.”

“What is it?”

“If I told ya, it wouldn’t be a surprise.”

“But I hate surprises.”

He repeats his words from long before with a smile, not a smirk, “Yer gonna like this one.”

As you settle in the grass on a small hill that connects directly to the carnival, you watch the last few people pass by before it closes. Your teddy bear is nestled comfortably against a tree as you and Michael lie next to each other. It might seem weird, but there is something intimate about how you cradle each other’s cheeks and stare into each other’s eyes as if the person you have been looking for all your lives is finally next to you – in your case, that is.

In the distance, a fire is being lit, and soon enough, colorful fireworks explode above your head. It catches you both off guard. Your eyes widen, mesmerized by the beauty of it all. The night sky is alive with color now, and you get lost in it.

“Michael,” you breathe.

He follows your gaze and watches the fireworks explode in front of the stars he compared you to. “I know,” he says.

There is something special about fireworks. The different colors and shapes lure you in, and everyone views it as a spectacle.

Fireworks, with their fleeting nature, teach you to appreciate the transient beauty of life and to treasure the moments of joy that come your way. They are seen as means to celebrate, not just milestones but life itself, and every human being is drawn to it. Explosions are only pretty if they're fireworks. Humans find beauty in disaster.

Fireworks, with their dazzling display of colors and patterns, evoke a sense of wonder, allowing us to momentarily escape from the complexities of life and immerse ourselves in the beauty of the moment.

You fill him with wonder, too. You fill him with all the good feelings and he’s always floating on cloud nine when he’s with you.

Curling into his side, you place your head on his chest, watching the fireworks continue their dance on the black canvas.

“Thank you,” you whisper. “Tonight was… the best night of my life.”

Michael wraps an arm around you. “And it was mine, too,” he says.

“I don’t want it to be over.”

“We can stay as long as ya want, my love.”

“Watching the fireworks?”

He smiles, leaning down to kiss the top of your head. “‘Til they’re over,” he assures you, “every last one of ‘em.”

You snuggle closer with a content sigh. “Sounds perfect to me.”

As the fireworks continue, he holds you close to his heart, making sure you’re warm and taken care of, and you find yourself letting go in his embrace. His arms form a protective shield around you, protecting you from the world and the pain that always seems to come back to haunt both of you. But love has been known since the beginning of time to keep us alive; lying on the grass in each other’s arms is all you need, and your love exceeds all expectations either of you had for the future.

Tagging: @bellaxgiornata @mattmurdocksscars @ms-murdockswift @your-not-invisible-to-me @shouldbestudying41 @glowstick-lesbian @acharliecoxedfan @roseallisonparker @norestfortheshelbywicked @1988-fiend @loveroftoomanyfandoms @mattkinsella

#michael kinsella x reader #michael kinsella x you #michael kinsella fluff #michael kinsella #kin amc #charlie cox #chaos theory #reader insert #x reader

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