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laundryandtaxes · 4 months

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I think it's interesting that, a decade ago, I saw a lot of mainstream pushback against the very concept of butch flight (loosely, the concept that what proponents claim is an alarmingly large portion of very gnc women were beginning to form new identities in which they no longer considered thenselves women) and especially against the concept that an alarmingly large portion of very gnc women were beginning testosterone use and surgical interventions to cope with their gendered discomfort. I saw with my own eyes many an indiginant person shout that they knew many, many such people, and almost none of them were either forming new identities and/or turning to medical interventions, and that this was proof those changes were only occurring in people who had some inherent need for them. When I spoke with a professor about a paper I was working on on butch identity formations in a particular time period, she gave me a few potential sources and added blithely and presumptuously, "And I'm assuming you don't want to read anything about butch flight or things like that." I took note of these things even as I have been very clear for years that I think there is, in fact, something to see here. Experiences and cultures vary. While I did not see many people who lived in places like myself- big or medium cities, or citylike pockets near universities such as college towns- take so much issue with the concept, but I could not factually know what portion of us was affected, and where, and how.

Over that same decade, I have seen group after group after group of women like myself be affected by what I think is a real phenomenon- the spread of one particular way of coping with gendered discomfort among a population of people riddled with gendered discomfort, for whom entering an Uber, or presenting a passport in another country, or showing up for an interview, or going to a women's spa or changing room, can be nerve wracking experiences loaded with the weight of the quick, often totally unintended but sometimes outright cruel assumptions of other people. I have known one by one by one by one women who've decided, for various reasons, to end their testosterone use, or that they don't have a gender identity in a meaningful sense, or that they do and that identity is "woman." And I've watched as the phenomenon has become so commonplace that I've seen queer spaces shift their language on detransition- from "exceedingly rare" it has become "uncommon" for someone to stop because they changed their mind on continuing, or one totally benign form of identity exploration that a person was simply "wrong" about, and I have not seen the famous 1% "statistic" floated out by them in large pushes, as I used to. I have never argued before and will not now that it inevitably ruins a person's life to decide to stop a medical intervention, or to choose a medical intervention they come to regret. I have never argued before and will not now that looking uncommon for one's sex is a bad thing, or that the scar of detransition lies in one's ability to be accurately sexed by strangers. To be clear, the uptick in detransition and reidentification is not the point of this or my point- it is simply an inevitable consequence. Even if the 1% stat were correct, 1% of 1000 is still more than 1% of 10. That is, it is simply one of many byproducts of the increased change in identity among this population to begin with.

Now, in 2024, I honestly don't think I know anyone in my own country, especially anyone who lives in the kinds of places in it previously mentioned, who will earnestly decry that there is simply nothing to see here, and that the experience I'm detailing here is totally unfamiliar to themself and to any of their friends at all, and they have absolutely no idea what I'm seeing. I know some people who will chalk it up to increased public acceptance of transition leading to increased internal acceptance of transition and trans identity among people who were actually trans the whole time, and who argue that no one's identity has been actually influenced by what they are seeing and experiencing every day. I know some people who will chalk it up to increased information and access to medical interventions, where applicable. I do not buy that such a massive portion of this group was simply truly trans the whole time, but at least this argument attempts to account for the uptick. But I don't know any people who know a large number of very gnc women in similar social situations to myself who claim, out loud, that this isn't happening at all.

And yet the number of people that I see openly discussing the topic is just about the same, and the general hushed tone on the topic is just about the same, among LGBT people now as it was a decade ago, despite the decade of new inormation and experience. I don't individually have the way out of this cultural moment for us, and I admit that there is a real (if minute) possibility that the arguments that account for this by saying this was functionally inevitable/just a matter of more of us accepting that we require these interventions could be correct, but I think it's important that I continue to name the reality that I think I am seeing with own eyes. Doing so does not deprive anyone of dignity, does not deprive anyone of choice, does not deprive anyone of the ability to self determine or make their own medical decisions. It simply means not lying by ommission.

#i actually kind of dislike the term itself but i think it is important that i continue to be open about this #because so so so many people are simply extremely afraid to do so

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myafterlifeisbetterthenyours · 1 year

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In celebration of yesterday episode maybe Moxxie x Powerful Imp Overlord S/O. Their relationship is kept secret by them until Moxxie dad invites them to himself. But instead of Chaz he wants him to marry said Overlord. It turns out it was planed by him so they could marry revealing their relationship but instead of helping his father they slaughter everybody after ceremony to take revange on him as wedding gift for Moxxie

Like it was Meant to Be

Moxxies day began like most of them did.

He awoke in your extremely lavish bed, the Imp reaching out for you, hoping to get some morning snuggles, but found himself alone.

Not an uncommon beginning to his day.

You were an exceedingly busy Imp, always having something to do of a new fire to put out, so he often woke up alone.

Not that he was concerned mind you. You knew what you were doing, and he knew he'd see you soon enough.

He entered the dining room, finding his usual spread waiting for him.

You were always adamant he eat a well balanced diet, you personally seeing that he lived ss healthy a lifestyle as an Imp possibly could.

Something the the little Imp had always greatly appreciated. His cheeks going rosy whenever he considered how much time and effort you put into his care alone.

It was as he ate, wondering what he should do that day, that your right hand would step into the room.

The man gave hin a shallow bow, telling him simply. "(Y/N) has left the Ring on buisness. You are to prepare for an overnight trip."

Moxxie was a little taken aback, but managed to ask the man. "Where will I be going."

The man simply stared at him, quietly telling him. "You'll find out soon enough."

And with that, he turned and left.

Moxxie didn't know what to say, the Imp just sat there, waiting for a punch line.

But none came, and while a great sense of unease filled him, the man feeling a little less anxious about as it was an order from you.

And so, finishing his meal, he got up, packed a singular suitcase with everything he needed for a night out, before he was led to an unfamiliar car.

You had, well, to put simply, a style.

Your men carried certain weapons.

Your vehicles met a certain standard.

You held certain standards that you rarely, if ever lowered.

But the car he was met with was... different.

But different in a familiar kinda way. A kind of way he wasn't sure he liked.

Getting in he found himself alone, the Imp anxiously pulling in on himself as he sat in the backseat, desperately wishing you were there.

The Thespian always felt safe when you were around. You always knew what to do. How to handle a situation. What to say.

The Imp craving your presence with every passing moment.

The trip was long, and silent, every moment feeling more and more isolating as the car drove out of Imp city.

He'd find himself on Greed, this instantly putting him on edge. And when they drove through his old suburb, he was gripping his seat, nails piercing the aging leather seating.

And when it pulled into his childhood home, the Imp pulling at the door, desperately wanting to get away, but the Imp finding them locked.

He was on the border of a panic attack.

He'd end up before the estate, his father stood before the building.

He felt like his lungs were being squeezed in a vice, and when the door was opened for him, he'd try and bolt out the other side, only to be stopped by a thug.

The man stared down at him, and with a shake of his head, he led the Imp by the arm to his father.

As he walked he noticed, well to put it simply, a shit ton of security. Men practically lining the walls, each man holding a rifle. Not an unusual sight at his childhood home, but the number of them raised his brow.

Or it would have if he wasn't on the brink of a panic attack, he'd likely have notice their uniformity, or the high quality of their weapons.

But as it were, his attention was solely on his father.

He was stood before him, Crimson staring down at him, Moxxie already feeling his chest tight.

"Moxxie." He began coldly. Then suddenly wrapped his arm around his shoulder before practically cheered. "Welcome home!"

Moxxie was entirely taken off guard by his father cheerful demeanour, the Imp completely taken off guard.

He was led by his father into the building, the younger Imp watched the entire way by the practical garrison of guards.

He was led into a dining room, his father forcing him into a seat before the two of them proceeded to have a deeply awkward dinner.

Crimson was suspiciously hospitable, asking him bluntly about his life. And while he kept your relationship a secret, as you ordered him too, for his protection as much as yours, he desperately wished to bring you up.

Hoping at least one of the goons would realise what they were involved in and maybe help him in some way.

But they didn't. And for the Imp watching them, he didn't bat an eye as he watched the pair of them eat in relative peace.

It'd be as he picked at his plate that Moxxie would ask why he was there.

And with only the 3 of them, Crismon would sit back in his seat, telling him simply. "Ya gonna marry an overlord. About time ya contributed to the family."

Now, Moxxie was still terrified of his father, for good reason. But well, you dont become the first Imp Overlords mate without getting some level confidence.

And it'd be as Moxxie tried to explain his importance. Trying to explain he was under your protection without insulting his father, Moxxie telling him this couldn't happen as he was already with a powerful Imp.

As such, Crimson would remain quite for a long while before hed admit rather coursely, the only reason he wasn't 'disciplining' him, was cause his new husband demanded he didnt touch a hair on his head.

But hey, he was happy to say you slipped and fell.

He'd stare at him, Crimson not batting an eye at the non subtle threat, a deep and powerful reminder of why he was so intimidating

And while he wasnt ashamed to admit he was terrified of the man, everything inside of him wanted to run.

But when you suddenly waltzed in, suave and collected as ever, turning to Crim as he welcomed you, the two of you speaking briefly.

And while he initially wanted to ask you what the Hell was happening, a simple look in your eye silenced him.

The simple smile on your face as you greeted him, almost telling him simply 'play along', reaching a hand out, taking his and placing a kiss atop it.

And well, Moxxie was far too relieved by your presence to resist your charm.

So, like a blushing doe, he submitted to your charm as you chatted up his father, the two of you speaking with suspicious amounts of familiarity.

Eventually he was led to his room, isolated once nore, the man subconsciously craving your presence once more.

He was alone for a long while before you finally showed up to his room.

And even then, you were escorted by his fathers right hand, you actually sending him away. A strange level of control for someone else to weild in his presence.

But once alone hed hug you, you happuly hodling him close, he'd ask him what the Hell was happening.

And so, after a moment of care, you gently kissing his cheek, telling Moxxie simply, you were seeking your beloved Imps fathers permission for marriage.

At that Moxxie blushed uo a storm.

Youd never hidden your love for him, showing it in a myriad of ways. But marriage?! That was such a big step, he wanted to be sure if you really wanted it.

He'd of course be hesitant, not wishing his father to force you into anything, but upon you breaking into laughter, asking if he thought anybody could force your hand, and well, being right he'd rapidly warm to the idea, asking if you were asking him to get married.

He'd wanna tell you about the neglect and abuse he'd received from his father, and the fears he had over your being married under his supervision.

But you simply hushed him, telling him simply, you loved him and everything would work out.

All he had to do was trust you.

And so, Moxxie would.

He'd long since learnt not to question you, and as such place his faith in you, even despite how anxious he was with his father in the picture.

He'd sleep rough, but have pleasant dreams, his mood not at all lifted when his father all but forced him into some surprisingly beautiful wedding dress.

He'd actually resist at first, Crimson raising his hand as though he was gonna slap him, Moxxie flinching in kind.

...But he didn't. Instead he just glared at him, telling him harshly.

"Your lucky your new husband guaranteed your fucking safety... else id have teached yasome manners."

And while he was still terrified, he felt a sort of comfort knowing you were still watching out for him.

And he trusted you, and despite his nerves, he went along with it, being led down the isle by his father.

He'd enter a wedding area packed with goons, many of your men lining the walls, showing the consistent level of discipline he'd become familiar with.

Hed end up before a Hell-Priest, you quickly joining him, flanked by your best men and bedecked in a very handsome suit.

The priest would give a long winded speech, and when you gave your vows, you'd tell him, with more emotion and passion then he'd ever seen.

You telling him how you loved him more than anything, and with every hour and minute you'd spent together, and despite everything he'd done building it, you'd gladly give the world to be with him.

Moxxie would be on the brink of tears, and just as the priest was about to do the whole 'you may kiss the bride' bit, you'd pause him.

Youd tell him you'd brought a gift, something special for such a... special gathering. Some of your underlings stepping forwards with a pair of cases.

And standing before him, the cases would pop open, revealing a matching set of machine guns.

Reaching forwards, you'd push his hand onto the grip, telling him simply.

"Let's wipe the slate clean Mox... Begin anew."

It took him a moment to realise what you meant, but upon gesturing to the crowd it'd click. And so, with a tear in his eye, he'd kiss you, you kissing him, the pair of you drawing your rifles as you parted, turning to the crowd.

It. Was. A. Slaughter.

The two of you shot everybody in sight, your men only rarely stepping in if there was a chance of one of them do you some harm.

Youd dance, hand in hand, twirling as you stepped over still hot shell cases. Beaming at each other as you emptied your mags.

Youd shoot and shoot and shoot, until there was nobody left standing but you, Moxxie as well as your Men.

And of course.

There was Crimson.

Youd corner the man, and while he snapped at Moxxie, demanding he submit and fear his authority.

And while that instinct was there, you'd simple hold him close. Smiling as you slid your pistol into his hand and with a loving kiss, he'd empty the magic into his father.

Youd scoop him up, the pair of you giggling as you carried him out. The Imp fawning over your matching rifles, the man telling you he loved them.

And it was just as you got to your waiting car that you let him down, and pulling a ring out you'd fall to a knee, a mind blowing experience for the Imp.

But you'd slip a ring onto his finger, asking him if he'd marry you.

Moxxie, practically in tears, accepted, the pair of you sharing as kiss before climbing into the car, the pair of you kissing passionately as you drove off.

"Family just slaughtered" painted on the back of your car, the two of you all over each other as you drove off to your happily ever after.

#submission #helluva boss #headcanon #x reader #helluva boss headcanon #helluva boss x reader #moxxie x reader #moxxie #helluva boss moxxie knowlastname

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cloudyswritings · 5 months

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Wyrmfalls

So my mental picture of the wastes is basically identical to that abyssal plane in our oceans. It’s nutrient poor, filled with weird little fuckers and extromphiles, and is frequented by larger species who sometimes die there. By that logic the carcass of a wyrm should be the equivalent of a whale fall and sustain/create an ecosystem for decades to come(usually longer). I’d argue that there’s roughly two types of wyrmfall, intentional ones and accidental/fatal ones.

Intentional:

Intentional wyrmfalls are when a wyrm makes the choice to transform into a different and usually smaller being. These events are what mister mushrooms poems are about. “Wyrms pull bugs into their thrall / till ages pass and kingdoms fall. I’ve discussed it previously but these events are typically caused by either old age or extreme injury on the part of the wyrm and serve as a way to essentially reset the biological clock until the wyrm can shed its smaller form once more and devour the kingdom it created to jumpstart its growth. These types of wyrmfalls are generally short(er) lived for obvious reason. Hallownest was often regarded as one of these, although the Pale King had no intentions of consuming his subjects and was relatively young by wyrm standards when he arrived.

Accidental:

Accidental wyrmfalls are when a wyrm, through some means or another is killed and meets its final death. This is always the case if the wyrm is not yet a higher being(exceedingly rare) or has so little energy left it can’t even metamorphose. Additionally an extremely abrupt traumatic death that prevents a wyrm from biologically preparing to transform can also cause this. These occur most commonly as a result of clashes between two Wyrms of notable age and size, although the larger Wyrm generally consumes to corpse of the loser there is still oftentimes a significant portion left.

These wyrmfalls generally act as a beacon attracting all kinds of scavengers ranging from other Wyrms and gods, to opportunistic caravans looking to make it big

The intelligence of the wyrm may be dead but its body is still actively hostile to those prying it apart.

The outer plating/scales/exoskeleton of a wyrm is among the most prized materials globally and as such is generally first to by stripped from a wyrmfall.

The burrowing teeth of Wyrms make for excellent lances and long nails provided you’re large enough to wield them.

Wyrm meat itself is both rubbery and tough, although eating enough is said to transform those who do so.

sometimes those who consume wyrmflesh report feeling phantom sensations like burrowing through stone. Even rarer is those who claim to remember events from the Wyrms life through its perspective. These claims are unverified.

Some bugs have found ways to collect the godly light and afterglow off from Wyrmfalls, this can be used to elevate one into a higher being, heal wounds, or even transmute materials. It’s one of the most expensive traded goods globally.

Wyrmfalls also tend to absolutely change the landscape around them, look at kingdoms edge.

Ash tends to accumulate in the surrounding areas but the winds of the wastes generally carries it away before it can build up like around the pale kings corpse.

The later stages of a wyrmfall tend to be colonization, with the useful materials of the wyrm mostly plundered bugs begin to build towns and even cities within the titanic corpses.

You see the wyrmfall may be mostly inert at this point but they have an inherent protection against the damaging effects of the wastes on the minds of bugs. If you find a town in the wastes that seems unaffected by the winds chances are it was initially built on the site of a wyrmfall.

Finally even millennia after death small amounts of soul can still be pulled from the decaying husk of the wyrm.

Parts of this were inspired by Mossbags most recent video, please go check it out!! It was very cool and fun, I promise.

#speculative biology #hollow knight #hk pale king #wyrms #wasteland #headcanon #what do you think?

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sebastianswallows · 1 year

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Dangerous and Delightful — Chapter 2 — A trip to the museum

— PAIRING: Sebastian Sallow x F!Reader

— SYNOPSIS: Sebastian is a purveyor of forbidden artefacts, a dark arts researcher, and a curse-breaker for hire. Ominis, desperate to save him from himself, hires Reader in secret to persuade him, by any means necessary, to leave his illegal activities behind.

— WARNINGS: Seb being an absolute public menace, but otherwise nothing.

— WORDCOUNT: 3.8k

— A/N: Here's the second chapter, my dears, I hope you like it! 💚 As a disclaimer, I have never been to the British Museum, especially not during the Victorian era, so I have no idea how accurate my description is of its architecture or setup 😂 I apologise for any inaccuracies.

— TAGLIST: @micheruhime @sarcasticpluviophile

She paced around a measly little park, in front of the same empty bench, as she waited for him. The little timepiece at her waist told her it was almost 2 o’clock, the time set for their meeting, but she had arrived fifteen minutes prior just in case. She was in the heart of Muggle London, where she and Sebastian had agreed to meet. Since graduating from Hogwarts, she had been very happy to live in a little town and forget that so many people could exist in the same place. Now that she was in such a large city, she felt as if her every move gave her away, and she expected a Ministry Obliviator to jump out from every bush.

It had been two weeks since they met, and in that time Sebastian had kept his word — looking into the sort of items that had been known to appear in the Aeolian Islands, and even into the rare magical fauna of the area that could have drawn Melancthon and his search party there. He seemed optimistic in his last owl and invited her to do a bit of research together at the British Museum.

It had seemed like nothing to agree to it then, but now she realised the weight of what they were about to do, and she wondered whether Ominis was even informed... Then again, he knew Sebastian better than she did, and probably knew of things far more daring and dangerous than this.

“It’s going to be alright,” she told herself as she paced up and down the same battered six feet of dirt. “Nothing bad will happen…”

She checked her little pocket watch again, as she had compulsively done for the past ten minutes. This hadn’t been the sort of thing she imagined herself doing after graduation — going on relic hunts in muggle museums with dangerous smugglers under false pretences — but life had a way of surprising you… She would keep one eye on Sebastian, and another on herself — she could pretend for an hour or two that she was just another frail young lady in awe at the breadth and depth of dark magic and the power of the relics that contained it, all alone in the world, worried about her brother… What Sebastian didn’t know won’t hurt him.

The watch barely showed that it was 2 o’clock when he stepped through the tall iron gates of the park and made his way toward her. Sebastian was wearing a formal black frock coat, a top hat as per the latest fashion, and exceedingly well-polished shoes. In his right hand, he held a walking cane by the neck, which made it look rather like an unhilted sword. Its ivory body was carved with strange runic symbols, as if he’d done it himself, but this was the only thing about him that stood out. All in all, he looked the very picture of a Victorian gentleman.

He smiled widely as he saw her. “Miss, it's a pleasure to see you again! You look positively radiant.”

She smiled with relief upon seeing him. Sebastian moved with such confidence among crowds that he could make himself seem to belong anywhere he chose.

“Hello, Mr Sallow. I was beginning to think you'd changed your mind.”

“Don't be ridiculous.” Sebastian winked at her. “My word is my honour.” He held out his arm for her to take and said with a grin, “Shall we?”

It was a cool spring day, and the trees were barely in bloom around them. She wore a raw green dress to fit the season, her hair piled atop her head and capped with a broad-rimmed hat to shield her from the sun. They walked to the Museum together and quickly got lost in the sea of people. Her dress had never felt tighter, but having Sebastian at her side did ease her worries, just as she hoped it would.

The building was enormous, seeming to be a place fit for giants, taller and broader than it had any business being and held aloft with great stone pillars. It was more marvellous than anything a wizard could have built, although Hogwarts in its antiquated enormity came close. And even if the art inside it did not move and all the glowing lights were an artifice of electricity, it was still wonderful to behold.

“Not too bad, is it?” asked Sebastian, grinning when he saw her stare.

“It’s beautiful,” she said with a gasp. They walked slowly through the first art gallery on their way. She let go of Sebastian’s elbow to fold her arms at her waist, fingers squeezing each other in an attempt to calm her nerves. “Almost… almost makes me feel like back at school,” she added, turning to him and smiling.

“Resembles some of the nicer corridors, right?” he grinned.

“I suppose you’ve been here many times. Nothing left to impress you…”

“Oh there’s always a thing or two,” he said as he looked her up and down, folding his arms behind him. “But yes, I’ve had the pleasure of coming here often.”

“On business?”

“Why else?” he laughed.

“I suppose muggle achievements don’t move you,” she whispered with a tilted smile.

“They don’t,” he shrugged. “Nor should they you. Now come, the room we want is this way.”

They passed by portraits and pastures, noble busts and twisted nudes — as if going through the history of human thought and feeling, and their expression of beauty. She caught sight of as much as she could while Sebastian led the way in large hurried steps to the Natural History section.

Compared to the art galleries, these parts of the museum were darker, furnished in black wood fittings and lit only selectively. In place of the proud statues looking down at them, now there were skeletons of toothy beasts, and petrified remnants of trees held up by wires like puppets on a stage. Behind glass cases all around them were items organised according to their size and place of collection. Some were mere fragments of fossils, others were blooms of stone in bright colours, while others still were indecipherable formations of perfect geometry.

Sebastian stopped them in front of a quite long exhibit. A series of items that looked almost like toys, carvings so rough they could not have served any purpose. The note beside them said they had been excavated at a tomb in Normandy. Sebastian looked at them with fascination. He knew most things weren't exactly what they appeared to be.

“Quite a sight, isn't it?” he said as she joined his side. “There are many secrets hidden in plain sight for those who have the right eyes. This room, for instance, holds many artefacts created for a different purpose than they currently serve.”

“Such as?”

“The ones before us, for instance,” he said, his grip tightening around the cane while the other hand gently held her elbow, pulling her along with him as he described each item beneath the glass in close whispers. “Here, Miss, are tokens of Malevolentia, each a curse that is planted like a seed and takes root — not in the one beside whom they are placed — which would be a corpse in his coffin — but in his descendants too.”

She swallowed thickly at his description, which held a tone of admiration in it for its evil ingenuity, but she stood by his side and made no move to lean away, listening patiently as Sebastian continued.

“As this majestic room holds no persons on a constant basis, the curse is broken. But should anyone take one of these into his home, he might find, whether during his lifetime or later, all manner of misfortune befall his loved ones.”

“Horrifying,” she gasped.

“Yes,” grinned Sebastian.

“You’ve come across such things often in your travels?” she asked as they walked slowly together.

“Naturally,” he said. “The world is filled with dangerous items. There are about as many curses as there are benevolent spells, and more cursed items than one might imagine, created and lost to time only to be found by some unsuspecting scholar centuries later. The desire to harm others is as old as humanity.”

“It might be morbid of me to ask, but, can you tell me more?” she said, looking up at him with large, curious eyes. “What sort of things have you encountered?”

Sebastian didn’t need to be asked twice. He leaned in closer to her so that the muggles around them couldn’t hear, and began telling her of some of the most horrifying things he’d experienced.

“I've seen a curse that would kill everything in a thirty-yard radius, and which was impossible to break. I've encountered curses which turn their victims into monsters. Curses which drive a man insane, curses which make him a slave to his own obsessions and desires. Curses that, if not handled carefully, can bring about endless torture.”

She looked at him quietly, staring with large eyes at him, and Sebastian couldn’t help but grin — that was certainly one way to get a lady’s attention.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked.

“No,” she said, “go on.”

“I've encountered curses that can only be defeated by a specific kind of magic, or by a specific kind of person, or by a specific kind of word — that one was the most terrifying, I think, for it was no word in a language anyone still speaks. And the sound that filled the air around the object of the curse — an ancient tree in the middle of a barren valley, where you thought the wind was howling… only it was not the wind. It was a ceaseless incantation that drove you mad to hear for long. It was... incomprehensible. Like looking into infinity. I nearly lost my mind. It was terrible.”

“Why would you even approach such a place?” she asked, clinging to his arm as they walked slowly together.

“A wealthy wizard wished to build a mansion there. The tree was in the way, and all the men he hired to cut it down went insane, turning their axes on each other.”

“How did it end?” she asked, almost afraid of the answer.

“The tree was cursed, the earth was not. It took several of us, but we could lift several feet of dirt from around the tree, roots and all, and planted it elsewhere.”

“Elsewhere?”

“We charged extra to curse his neighbour,” he grinned.

“That’s horrible,” she said, but started laughing, and Sebastian laughed too. His grin was bright and charming, and she could only look at him with a chastising smile, wondering whether he was telling the truth or only teasing her.

“I have to ask, Mr Sallow... how did you get involved in this career?”

“Oh, I've always been very curious, even as a boy. Always wondering what sort of things were kept beyond reach, what our professors weren’t teaching us... And I’ve always been fond of books. Books do not distinguish between ‘good’ knowledge and ‘bad’ knowledge. They were my most honest teachers,” he said, smiling fondly.

“And your family doesn’t find your interest dangerous?”

“The way your family does?” he grinned. “My parents passed away before I could consult them about it,” he continued, looking away from her. “My sister was just like me, but became more disapproving of it over time — encouraged in that view, no doubt, by our legal guardian, our uncle… Unfortunately, she has not had the chance to berate me about it for many years,” he sighed, speaking quite intentionally about his sister as if she were dead — because he was dead to her.

“Oh… I’m sorry to hear that,” she said, laying a sympathetic touch to his elbow. “It sounds as if your sister might have been a good influence,” she smiled.

“She tried to be, but not hard enough, I suppose,” said Sebastian, turning to grin at her again. “Losing her was... difficult. It’s been a challenge, honestly. Still is, every day. But I like to think she’d actually enjoy some of the things I’ve gotten up to. If anything, I think she would be proud.”

“I’m certain she would,” she smiled.

“Are you proud of your brother?” he asked, smiling slyly as he brought the conversation back to her.

“I think I might be once I see him home safe. Until then, no,” she said with a tense laugh. “What is he off doing, do you suppose?”

“Do you know for a fact that he’s hunting for a cursed object?”

“I know he’s been hired to retrieve something, and that he was told it’s dangerous. He was saying before he left how we would be able to afford that expansion to the house we’d been talking about for two years… And he’d been borrowing the strangest books for months before he left. I’m convinced it has something to do with dark magic.”

Sebastian nodded as he listened to her.

“How do you even go about it? Getting rid of a curse, I mean?”

“Well, that is only half of the work, breaking curses. Sometimes, it’s not even possible. The other half, the more challenging one, is keeping them sealed away. Curses are useful, you see. A curse can be an asset in the right hands, but if handled improperly it can destroy a whole town. It calls for the most delicate sort of magic work.”

“Useful?” she frowned.

“Well, very often they’re created for protection. To keep thieves away, or punish them,” he chuckled. “It can serve to protect an item, or a person, but it can also be used to do the opposite — and to do it in the worst possible way. It has terrifying versatility, which is why such items are so sought after, and so expensive both to retrieve and create.”

She recoiled from Sebastian the longer he spoke. By now, the warnings Ominis had given her seemed understated.

“This is not just a profession for you, isn’t it?” she said. “It sounds more like a passion.”

Sebastian gave an easy smile and leaned in closer. “I think we should continue this line of questioning in more private quarters,” he whispered, then looked up as they were walking and said cheerfully, “Oh look, that’s what your brother’s after.”

As if guiding her through a dance, Sebastian brought the two of them in front of an exhibit of volcanic glass. They looked at first glance like black stones, but some had been polished quite deliberately, even left with a little handle on top through which red tassels were tied. In their round and flattened shape, they looked like mirrors, reflecting a perpetual dark.

“Obsidian, polished to a shine. Serves as what is sometimes called a spirit mirror. The wizard John Dee used to have the largest collection of them in England,” he said, looking down with admiration.

“And… and this is —?”

“—What I believe your brother is after. They’re used for divination, of all things,” he chuckled. “But, I suppose, the environment that creates them is extreme enough that they can fetch a nice price.”

“No cursed treasure?” she asked, looking at Sebastian from the corner of her eye.

“Not unless you count the volcano’s fiery wrath,” he shrugged. “I could be wrong, of course. But from what you’ve told me — where he is, what he’s after — these spirit mirrors are the only thing that comes to mind.”

“It shouldn’t be so difficult then, should it?” she said, breathing heavily as she looked at the dark, cool, quiet items sitting behind the glass. “To go there, pick some up…”

“Who knows what he’s run into,” said Sebastian, circling the display. “Perhaps the volcanoes are active and they’re barred from going up. Perhaps there are rival collectors there… The journey is long, and all manner of things could happen between here and there.”

“Oh, don’t tell me that,” she fretted, squeezing the fingers of one hand in the other.

“But I trust that at least seeing them has helped alleviate your concerns?”

“Yes, somewhat,” she smiled, the tension slowly leaving her.

“I’m glad to be of service,” smirked Sebastian, circling back to her side. “Now we can enjoy the rest of the museum.”

She let him walk them onward, giving one last look to the display of obsidian.

“I still don’t know why he isn’t answering any of my letters,” she mumbled.

“Perhaps he’s distracted,” offered Sebastian. “Maybe he’s having too much fun.”

“Fun?” she said, sounding offended at the idea. “There’s plenty of fun in correspondence.”

“I’m sure there is,” he chuckled.

“Don’t patronise me, Mr Sallow.”

“I’m not,” he said, laying a warm hand over her upper back. “Alright, maybe I am a little, but I can’t help it. It’s endearing to see a sibling so worried about the other. Although…”

“Although?”

“Are you sure it’s just worry on your part, and not simply an inability to let your brother go?”

She looked up at him, frowning, her lips parted in an attempt to say all manner of scathing things, but none came out.

“Believe me, nobody would understand you better,” he added quickly. “After growing up together, being each other’s childhood, always having that other soul there to confide in, to trust, to rely on, when all the adults around were busy with their own disconnected concerns…”

She looked away, letting him walk the two of them slowly through the exhibits of fossils and petrified trees and skeletons as if advancing together through history, forgetting about the meaningless multitudes around them.

“Thinking you will always be able to rely on one another… And then, one day, to have that gone. No warning, no time to plan for it or to prepare, just have that other half of you get taken away. It’s worse, too, if it’s at their initiative. A loss seasoned with betrayal.”

She walked, unknowingly, closer to him, wishing she could hold him and convey her sympathy. His hand, by now, had fallen from its place at her back, and she felt colder for it. She looked up into his warm brown eyes that moved quickly from her to the exhibit of ancient skeletons before them, smiling but distant.

“I, too, have a hard time letting go,” he said quietly, looking intently at the bones arranged before them.

They were a couple, small and bleached, put together with nails and wires and fitted into rigid poses, their insides on the outside for all the world to see.

She cupped his elbow, the closest thing to an embrace that she could dare in public, and looked quietly at the display with him. The remnants of two human lives. The tag beneath their case said they had both been found in the Scottish Highlands in 1875, and that they were believed to be five thousand years old. Had they known each other? Regardless, all that they had been through in life amounted to this — that they stand side by side, in this distant unfamiliar year, reduced to bare and empty bones. All their rivalries and hatred and loves were turned to dust, faded into nothing, and all that remained… was this cold, eternal, companionship.

She looked at them, lost in her own thoughts, when suddenly with a little tremble and a creak the two skeletons began to move, and their arms came up to encircle each other.

She looked at Sebastian and smiled. From the corner of his eye, he looked at her and gave a little wink. Beneath, at his waist, she could see him deftly move his wand — it had been hidden in a holster at his chest, not within the cane as she initially suspected. It was an elegant piece of white wood with a checkered black and green pattern at the handle. Before them, stuck inside their cases, the skeletons fell away from their metal supports to lean on one another, skulls laying on each other’s shoulders.

“You like playing with fire, Mr Sallow.”

“Call me Sebastian,” he whispered.

Behind them, a shrill and raspy cry startled the constant flow of murmurs from the crowd. They turned to find a woman, thin and tall and with a wide froggy mouth, her face littered with black moles like rat droppings, staring and pointing at them — or rather, at the embracing skeletons in the case. She was holding a little dog with ruffled grey fur like a pile of rags, and in her shock, she clutched him to her chest as if he could protect her. The little ragdoll thing began to yap, drawing even more attention.

“They moved, they… the bones…” the woman rambled in a rough voice.

Sebastian and his companion looked at each other, then back at the woman. When they saw other people begin to stop and stare, they decided to slowly make their exit. Sebastian stepped to the side and she followed, walking in small brisk steps, then faster, and faster.

“That was a mistake,” she muttered under her breath, which came out in gaspings as her corset began to feel ever tighter.

“We’ll be fine, it’s alright,” said Sebastian lowly, navigating them through the museum.

More screams rang out behind them as Sebastian’s spell fell away and the skeletons reverted to their original pose. They looked over their shoulders, but nobody was following them. Still, Sebastian took her hand and they began to walk even faster.

“Come on, this way,” he said.

“You careless, thoughtless, irresponsible…!”

As she muttered curses, she let him whisk them away from trouble. Soon, they found themselves at a back exit, far from the fuss they had caused. Sebastian looked left and right before he opened the door, letting her go out first. He followed, closing the door behind them. They found themselves in an enclosed yard filled with ladders and buckets — trapped. She looked around, ready to ask where they were supposed to go now, when Sebastian took her hand again.

“Hold on tight,” he said, giving her another of his confident smiles.

Before she could blink, the scenery before them disappeared, and the barren landscape at the back of the British Museum turned into a green and grey expanse of wide sky over green fields, cold and open and lonely. A little house stood before them as if it had grown out of the ground, all grey stone crawling with ivy. He had Apparated them somewhere.

“Ah,” said Sebastian, turning to look around. “A bit further than I intended, but…”

“Where are we?” she asked breathlessly.

“Feldcroft,” he said, and immediately started walking away from the little house without any further explanation. It looked unlived in for many years.

“So you mean we’re close to —”

“Close to Hogwarts, yes. Although I doubt we’ll be welcome. Middle of the school year and all... Hogsmeade is not much further, if you feel like walking there.”

She threw an incredulous glare at him, but he just kept walking — backwards, so he could grin at her. There was not much left for her to do but to shrug and follow him.

#Sebastian Sallow #hl #Sebastian Sallow imagine #Sebastian Sallow x reader #Sebastian Sallow x MC #Sebastian Sallow fanfiction #sswallow;made a thing #sswallow;fanfics #fanfic;danger and delight

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waythroughtheice · 3 months

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Tip of the World Tuesday

This is a topic I hope to brush upon in a later fic, but if I never do at least it got written down!

In the world of As Steel Sharpens Steel, as Iron Sharpens Iron, by the end of the century and after the end of the seventh war we see a world that's mainly rebuilt itself from the ground up (thanks, Eurasia.)

Reploids and Humans kind of bump along together--it's not as bad as it once was, but it's still not cordial, or as cordial as it could be. It's not equal in any respect, though. In certain areas, humans and reploids live together but that's not common. Work, school, and living--all are separated by species. The only place where the two aren't separated is voting, and even that's iffy.

We the fanbase know the world will be equal someday--thanks to ZX and ZXA--but we're not there yet. The reason? The virus.

Imagine, if you will, that you are a squishy human living in a world filled with sentient robots that are far stronger and faster than you, and to top it all off they often have unique, special abilities.

And any one of them, at anytime, could be overtaken by the virus, and kill you.

Of course, your death will be avenged by the Hunters, but you're still dead, you know?

With this in mind, no wonder the two species are largely separated. Cities is where it becomes a bit more mixed, but that's not the norm.

Humans live, work, and play largely in areas that only they go to; Reploids are much the same.

The Hunters--especially X--aren't fond of this, but what can you do? Tell the humans they have to interact with someone that could go crazy and kill them?

Schools are suspect to this stratification as well; there are no Reploid children in schools, because reploids were originally built by companies and rich organizations to serve specific purposes, and were uploaded with prerequisite knowledge. Reploids also tend to be built to reploid standards: big heights, strong bodies, and shall we say interesting designs. Not always, but a lot of the time--and so most reploids wouldn't fit into normal human schools, and besides they simply don't look like children, even if they've been activated for about the same amount of time as a child.

And so only humans go to "school", especially from a young age. This is how it is. Some reploids go to college (this is exceedingly rare) but most never touch the schooling system.

And so overtime this has evolved to reploids being built with all the knowledge you'd gain in school, and just having it....there. This leads to a lot of reploids disdaining the idea of school in general--when you can simply download something directly into your brain, or you come alive already knowing it, why would you need to work for it? Besides, most reploids are built with a specific function in mind, so there really isn't a need for school, which they also see as a way to find your vocation.

(There are reploid teachers in the schools of course, but they are highly monitored, and rather rare as most humans are jumpy at the idea of having a reploid near their children for so long every day.)

Where this ties into our favorite Hunters Three: X, Axl, and Zero were not given pre-requisite knowledge. At all. Sure, they had languages built into them, but. That was it. They had to fight for every single scrap of information they gained, because their inventors wanted them to be as human as possible--even in the ways that make us "slower" than reploids. This led to X, Axl, and Zero gaining the skills you learn while in school--critical reading and thinking, problem solving, ability to appreciate different takes on things, etc.

Alia has hypothesized that these skills were part of the reason why these three are at the top of the ranks: none of the other Hunters really interact with school in any meaningful way, and have to play "catch-up" in these areas. Life is a school all its own, but academic schooling does play a role with growing certain skills.

Now, this isn't to say any of them went to school, because they did--just not in a traditional sense. X and Zero were homeschooled by Cain and later were locked into the Hunters, Axl was scooped up by Red Alert soon after he woke up, and as that organization was Reploid-only, never went to school due to the distaste reploids have for it (but Axl was later homeschooled by X after being taken in by the Hunters).

Where am I going with this?

Oh, well, wouldn't you know it, Axl's the same age as many of the kids mentally, and goodness there are reports of a Maverick on the loose in a high school nearby...

(Human schooling system and high school populace, meet undercover S-Rank Hunter Axl on a mission. Undercover S-Rank Hunter Axl meet the human schooling system and high school populace. I don't think this is going to end well....)

#mega man x #axl #zero #x #world building #ideas on how schooling in Mega Man X works #as in HOW do the two species learn

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coarsely · 12 days

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you sent me so many, so it seems only fair: 5, 11, 17, 30, 50, 59, 66? :) for Hendrix, unless you're jonesing to talk about someone else haha

I'm going to answer these for both Hendrix and Louis, as I do often think about Hendrix but Louis has been living in my thoughts recently too!

5) How often do they masturbate?

Hendrix masturbates pretty often; once a day or every two days, usually, but less so when his chronic pain is in a bad flare up because it stops feeling good at that point. This does pose a problem when he starts following Diomede around, because he has to slink off for some privacy and Diomede doesn't always mind his own business about these things.

Louis masturbates exceedingly rarely, I'm almost tempted to say never. Like every other person who lives in Bronze Eden, he has extremely puritan notions around sex and physical pleasure, so avoids it all like the plague. This only changes after his experience with Ucalegon, where he becomes mad and frenzied and, yeah, is cranking one out every few hours because floodgates have been removed. This will eventually even out, but I haven't gotten to that stage yet.

11) Are they strictly monogamous or do they have a more open relationship?

I'm not convinced Hendrix understands the concept of monogamy. The place that he lives / rules has a very open and casual hookup culture, so it's never really come up in his experience, but he's also not someone who has ever had a proper, consistent romantic relationship so who is to ssy. I'd say he naturally is inclined to open relationships as a general rule, but he's not someone who also wouldn't be happy being strictly monogamous if that's what someone he's emotionally involved with preferred, as it's not particularly important to him.

Louis has never been in a relationship full stop. In his head, he's strictly monogamous as that is just the culture of Bronze Eden, but his experience with Nod and Ucalegon again, changes some of those thoughts and notions. With Ucalegon, the vibe certainly is whatever she gives him, he'll happily and gratefully take, even if it feels like pulling teeth to accept.

17) Weirdest place they've had sex?

Hendrix lives in a pretty weird place as is; it's an abandoned giant ocean liner, slowly being irradiated over time and possibly partially sunk. So objectively speaking, that's a pretty strange place to be sleeping around and even raising children as a few people in his community are doing so. His ideas about what are weird are pretty warped; he'd find Golden Glimpse, with actual beds and plumping and filtration systems and mostly clear skies absolutely alien, for example.

For Louis, anywhere in Nod might as well be Narnia to him, especially Rhapsody with its overgrown megaflora eating most of the city, which is the one place he's definitely going to have sex, so there.

30) How bratty are they?

Hendrix certainly likes to push things as far as they can go, see how much it takes before he starts to rub up against some boundaries and some walls, but I don't know if I would necessarily call him bratty; it's less looking for discipline, or to see what he can get away with, but more out of curiosity of what the different reactions get in different people, and once that curiosity is satisfied he's content to leave things be. I would say he has the capacity to be very bratty if he wanted to be, but it certainly isn't a default position of his.

Louis doesn't know that's the word for what he is, but yeah, he's definitely a brat about things. I'm thinking most majorly of this scene I haven't finished yet where he tries to steal Ucalegon's whip and gets tased for it. He comes from a family where he essentially had authority over anyone that wasn't his direct relatives, where every need and whim was fulfilled because they had the wealth and power to do so, and he would certainly benefit from some boundaries, someone willing to say no to his face.

50) What do they consider foreplay?

For Hendrix, in no particular order; doing drugs together, having political and philosophical debates, murdering people, getting into a bar fight, playing chess or backgammon, threatening each other with guns. He's a strange fellow.

Louis doesn't know what foreplay is, gdbless. The answer to this, as potentially is with a lot of these, is that he is so humiliatingly attracted to Ucalegon absolutely anything she does will be enough, certainly in the very early stages of his attraction and relationship with her, which is categorised by an extreme wanting and an even more extreme never having.

59) Are they easily aroused?

Hendrix certainly is, sometimes because of something and other times just because being in a hypersexual mood is a semi-familiar state for him to be in because of his general emotional instability.

Again, once the floodgates open for Louis a stiff breeze that carries the scent of flowers is enough for him to get going. It's like puberty 2 except he can't repress it like he did then.

66) Do they have a "type" when it comes to sexual partners?

Hendrix does not really, as the ship he lives on has such a wide and varied amount of people that he never really has developed a singular physical or intellectual type. Anyone who is willing to ask for what they want and tell him he's doing well giving it to them is perfect for him, really. A certain amount of inner confidence in oneself, really. Everything else is fluff, salad dressing.

Louis has a singular type named Ucalegon, and people resembling her. He learned the beauty of women with unshaved pits and hasn't been the same since.

#thank you for sending these! its so much fun #I like to send my asks as multiples of numbers I almost sent you every multiple of 4 but that seemed a *lot*#anyway thanks again!#hendrix #potentate louis #answered

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corvidofthewood · 3 months

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Good Morrow, Fellow magic folk

I've been wanting somewhere to find people who share my love of the arcane and all it's wonders. Every area of study is truly a fascinating craft in its own. Each mind dedicated to the study of it is a well rounded mind indeed. (Or as I hear the folks of today say: for real, for real.)

I do ask, perchance, if you could lend me your ear, as I have a burden I struggle to carry all on my own. For I, Corvid of the Wood, made the foolish mistake of moving from my peaceful little cottage in the mountains, to this (If you'll pardon my language) Morgana-forsaken city!

I had my gardens and my orchards and my local nuts and rocks to practice my craft as a Hedgewitch. If I didn't have what I required in my garden, I could simply walk twenty yards in any direction and have miles of beautiful forested land to forage from. There were birds and frogs and all walks of life abound. As a sir of the woods, I quite liked being surrounded by them.

BUT- dear friend - (praytell) why, when I was having my nightly dream where I am chased by an endless swarm of ravenous crows, did I suddenly wake up in my usual cold sweat and think:

"A change of scenery might do."

A foolish notion! Foolish I tell you! Fresh herbs are exceedingly more difficult to come by, my murder of crows can rarely find me more than cast-off rummage, and the beautiful sound of birdsongs has been replaced by the sound of music that is so bewitching, it fills me with an urge to dance (body and soul) that distracts me from my daily rituals!

The city folk call it rock and roll, but I never see nor hear any stones, gems, or freshly baked crusts!

Living here is a never ending torment that I must endure. My murder have informed me that they very much like the amount of shiny things in the area, and refuse to leave. I plan to bargain with them sometime soon once I can find some leverage.

My only solace is a square of land that has a small, sparse forest within, and a few square shaped spires with tomes abound. I will update you as soon as I can gather my bearings.

In Great Distaste:

~Corvid of the Wood

#wizardposting #wizard posting #wizardblogging #shitpost #shitposting #hedge witch #witchposting

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jabbage · 1 year

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#Letters from Watson #lettersfromwatson

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leggerefiore · 2 years

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Hopeful Wanderer

cw: possessive behaviour, unhealthy relationships

Soulmates were a wonderful thing. Everyone around had their perfect match or matches just out there lying in the world. Someone whom they would bond and grow close to while never having worry about being alone. Parents would go on to their children about how important and precious it was. In secondary school, everyone ran about showing their names as they appeared attempting to find their match. You were supposed to be excited when your soulmark finally appeared. Instead, terror racked your body the night it appeared. You did not want a single soulmate, much less two of them. The next days were spent in long-sleeves until you obtained make-up to plaster over the names. You masqueraded as a markless, and everyone felt just awful for you. Having to go through life without a soulmate? How tragic, they cried. You pretended to be upset, too. Truthfully, you were glad. The universe should not dictate who you could and could not love.

Years carried along with much pity and occasional envy. You took it upon yourself to travel constantly. Sure, you might encounter your soulmates, but they would never know. Then, by the next day you would be gone before they could even give a description of you. Life was nice as vagabond. You met odd, quirky people who left you with interesting stories to contemplate; you saw amazing sights that most could only hope to meet. It was all so fulfilling. Ingo and Emmet, whoever they were, were surely doing fine. They were likely each other's soulmates as well. That was common among three-way bonds you learnt. Occasionally, however, it was an attachment formed toward only one person in the group. That was exceedingly rare. The chances lied in favour of you being a missing third piece rather than a final piece in two separate puzzles.

Stopping in Nimbasa City, you sighed. The place was full of a bustling, busy environment that seemed so suffocating. Noises came from every which way and made your own existence fill drowned out in place of the crowds. You were simply passing through on your journey through Unova. Still, after travelling for kilometres before, you found yourself taking a seat outside of a station. Hundreds of people passed by within minutes, no one dared by mind to someone like you. A wanderer like you never brought attention towards themselves. It was why you chose the lifestyle. You barely existed and could live in peace without fear of other people. What did other's opinions matter when you would be gone the next day? Obnoxiously, a group of teenage girls blabbed on about gossip. "Did you two hear? Saria said they don't have soulmarks at their age! They are available! Or maybe..." a brunette giggled to her friends. "Are you about that Chiara? I heard they were searching desperately for their soulmate..." a girl with braids countered. You felt bad for whoever they were chatting about. Soulmates were nothing but trouble with the gossip they wrought. You shuddered to think about being the target of someone's conversation. Somewhere, you were certain your soulmates asked for you and likely had searches for you.

Eyes travelled to the station. A newspaper article came across your mind; Anville Town seemed like such a lovely place to visit but could only be travelled to by train. You only wanted to pass through Nimbasa once, so this was your only chance to see that sleep country town. Standing up, you stalked quietly into the station. The station was closer to a hornet's nest with the buzzing of people with its wall. You were shoved, pushed and dragged around the location. Everyone was aggressive about getting where they needed to go. You found yourself seeking shelter in an emptier area of station. Checking on your wrists, you saw the sleeves had definitely smeared off your foundation. Your fake identity nearly revealed for any prying eyes. No one would look at your wrists and ask questions, right? The style of dress you adorned was unapproachably strange. Anxiety ate into your heart while you thought of your next actions. "Hi, I think I saw you outside, right?" the annoying brunette from earlier had appeared out of thin air, "I- uh, need a partner for the Multi Line. I saw your pokeballs and- uh- please battle with me?" You considered her for a moment. A battle could calm you down.

Chiara, the brunette's name, was a trainer of average abilities. Most of the twenty battles that were fought ended up being carried by you alone. They were not extremely challenging, but what was basically a two versus one had its own difficulties specific to itself. You were exhausted as the teen still contained all of pep. The next door led to final opponents before you could leave. Regret was stinging at your mind from the terrible decision. "Hey, what's your name?" the brunette tilted her head as she gazed at you. It was normal question, you supposed, so you answered it. "Ohhh, that's pretty! It fits you! Sorry, I had realized I never got your name, but I wanted to thank you for introducing me to my soulmates," she repeated your name at the end of her sentence. You could fall into hysterics from the comment. The excitement of meeting one's soulmate was something you never understood. She rushed ahead into the next cab while you stood behind for a moment. A strange sense of dread filled your mind. Something like a desperation for a book that never seemed to have satisfying conclusion.

Two oddly dressed men stood as your next opponents. Assumably, these where the soulmates Chiara had spoken of. You moved to stand across from them when you noticed how the teenager glared at her wrist with puffy eyes. It seemed she had been wrong. You turned to the men, "Hey, I think we might need to do this later; if that's alright with you." The one dressed in black went to speak when the brunette shouted out your name. "I want to battle them! I'm fine!" her voice echoed off the walls of the shuttle. There was look of shock on the other opponent's face. You presumed it was from the suddenness of her yell. "I'm Ingo," black-coat introduced himself and you stomach dropped, "That fellow over there is Emmet, we're both Subway Bosses." No, no, no- You wanted to dash off the train. It was moving. You could not escape. If they had realized who you were, they had not said anything. There was chance they had not even caught on to who you were.

The battle started the same as the others, but quickly proved itself difficult. Chiara kept playing her moves aggressively, and you acted much the same. She was trying to seek vengeance for her broken hear yet lacked the ability to do any meaningful damage. Ingo and Emmet were soon to overpower both of you in an embarrassing defeat. She was quick to stomp off the train after it had come to stop. You were moving to imitate her and escape the presence of your unwanted soulmates. Arms trapped you to warm body from behind as your name was whispered into your ear. You struggled against them, but the other walked around to shut the door. The sound of a locking mechanism sliding into place about made your heart stop. They knew. Why were they doing this? "Did you know that when your soulmate rejects your bond there is an intense numb pain that surges in your body?" Ingo spoke as he sat down on the bench, a leg sitting on top of the other. "I remember being excited to learn the name of my soulmate on my seventeenth birthday. That excitement grew when I learnt that Emmet had the same name on his wrist." The arms around you squeezed tighter for emphasis. "We both ended up sobbing as an unknown pain spread throughout our entire bodies. Our soulmate hadn't even met us, but they had already rejected us. Why?"

The question was echoed by the brother behind you. They wanted to know why. You supposed they had a right to know, but they had no reason to go about it like this. "I don't want to have a soulmate; it has nothing to do with you. I just don't want to be tied down anywhere," you explained. "I'm a wanderer and you'll just slow me down." Ingo was clearly dissatisfied with that answer, and judging by the way Emmet's grip tightened, clearly, he was too. The Subway Boss approached you and grabbed your chin to look at you. Pearly eyes stared into your own. Lips were brought together, and your muffled screams went ignored. One of their hands crept up your shirt and left goosebumps in its wake. Ingo's forehead rested against yours, "We never once rejected you despite the pain. Had you not realized? We love you and you'll come to understand you love us too."

The words were meant to their entirety. That day, your small public presence was utterly extinguished, and you were stashed away into their apartment. The passing of time gave way to you giving in to their wishes. Outside the window, puffs of white fell lamentably from the heavens onto the waiting earth for it to be reabsorbed. A few may gather up for a few days, but eventually it would melt. You were sitting in Emmet's lap, while a documentary about a planned train crash which led to unexpected deaths played in the background. His head rested over your shoulder as he watched the television. You settled against him and enjoyed the warmth he radiated. The cold weather had gotten inside the room. Ingo was making popcorn and the loud sounds reverberated even in the separate room. It was hard to believe you had once hated them. A small part of you still did, but it had become impossible from all the affections and attention you had been showered in (until you complied). The one time you had managed to escape made you shiver. Never again. (How long did they leave you alone? It must have been days...)

Ingo sat the buttery snack down in his lap as took a seat beside the both of you. "We were thinking about celebrating our anniversary out of the house this year," the older droned out before taking a handful of popcorn into his mouth. "You've been extremely good as of late, so we think you earned it." By that, he means you know longer rejected them in any way or form. You were submissive to their actions and willing let them take all they wanted. (Your mind flashes back a memory of Emmet binding with you ropes and holding you against him for hours.) "Oh, have I? Can I choose where, then?" you asked not expecting any real choice in the matter. "Depends. Where do you want to go?" Emmet chimed in, removing his head from your shoulder to take some popcorn. You racked your mind for places to go for a moment. There was never a chance to just explore Nimbasa as you had not really left their apartment, but you knew general ideas of places. "A cafe? I think it could be a nice quiet evening out," you rambled out a basic idea. Ingo nodded at your answer, "That should be fine. I'll find a nice one for us to visit, then. Do you want a new outfit?" It was your turn to nod.

You wished to tell your younger self to not reject their soulmates. Somewhere, you knew it was partially your fault they had ended up like this.

#yandere ingo x reader #yandere emmet x reader #ingo x reader #emmet x reader #yandere x reader #yandere pokemon x reader #ingo/reader #emmet/reader #ingo x reader x emmet #ingo/reader/emmet #yandere #new fun idea of an a side fluff with a b side horor #soulmate au

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wri0thesley · 3 years

Note

Just wanted to slip in before event requests close and request some adoring papa Geto with his pregnant s/o and prompts 33 and 68 💕

making time - geto x fem!reader

you’re a family, above all else.

warnings: not sfw, minors dni. pregnant reader, pregnant sex, domesticity. afab reader, fem pronouns.

[a/n: the content of geto and mimiko and nanako i think we deserve]

You snatch the moments of normalcy when you can.

You have to snatch them in between Suguru’s loyalty to his cause, the cursed spirits, the occasional curse user who pitches up at your door because they’ve heard about his vision and they want to be a part of it. Those ones are welcomed in with open arms, yours and Suguru’s two girls peeking around the door to see if this one looks like they’ll be any fun.

The new curse users are always surprised by you and Suguru and Mimiko and Nanako and the little domestic life carved out for you in an apartment in the worst part of Tokyo; curse users, you know, are supposed to live an exceedingly lonely existence.

But you four do not, because you have each other.

You cup your stomach as you portion out the meal carefully; smaller plates for Mimiko and Nanako, the largest for you because Suguru gets all doting and caring if you don’t.

“You’re eating for two, now,” he says, kissing your cheek, his own hand brushing over your stomach in turn in wonderment at the tiny life that’s growing within you – the one he had more than a hand in making. “I just want to make sure that all of the most important people in my life are taken care of how they should be.”

He wants to carve a world for you where it doesn’t feel like you’re fighting for the sake of people who do not even know you exist. And you love him for it. You love him so much; you kiss him even with the taste of curses lingering on his lips, making your two girls giggle and make fake retching noises, disgusted by the concept of two adults in love.

Neither of you mind. When Suguru had first brought them to you, maybe a month after he’d rescued them, they’d been quiet and broken-eyed and frightened. Seeing them laugh and smile and feel comfortable around you makes your heart ache with comfortable domesticity. You are so lucky.

“Dinner’s up!” You call, and the two girls tumble over one another to grab their plates – pale blue for Nanako, dark purple for Mimiko – pestering you and pulling at your skirt to ask if they can eat in the living room and watch television at the same time. Suguru lopes into the room a little after them, and you stifle a smile behind a hand – Nanako has obviously been playing with his hair again, and a series of sparkly butterfly clips adorn his head like a crown.

“You look very dashing,” you tell him, and he gives you a smile that makes his eyes crinkle small, your heart beating. You can never quite get over how handsome he is.

“I know,” he says, as he takes his own plate in one hand and yours in the other to place them on the table. “I’m thinking about adopting it full time. Do you think they’d take a monk in sparkles seriously?”

“I can carry that myself, you know,” you tell him, with a small smile. “And yes. I don’t think anyone could meet you and not take you seriously.”

“I don’t know if that’s a compliment or not,” he replies, wrapping an arm around your waist and tugging you to the small, worn kitchen table. The money that Suguru extracts from patrons goes straight into the pot for his grand schemes (though more than he’ll admit is occasionally pilfered for treats for Mimiko and Nanako and you) – you’re happy in the little apartment. You don’t need more money.

It’s not like you or Suguru want to bother going into the city proper and risk rubbing shoulders with the unclean whilst shopping.

Suguru motions for the girls to sit at the table with you, and though Nanako pouts and Mimiko makes her own soft, quiet noise of dismay, they take the proffered seats without much fuss. They very rarely make a fuss for either of you; they look at you both with hero worship in their eyes, and both you and Suguru are soft for it. You give them everything you can, including the childhood that they deserved – you hope, anyway.

And you intend to give the child that you’re carrying the childhood that it deserves too. Suguru hopes it will grow up in the world he envisions. And whilst you don’t know if that’s true, you’re willing to follow him to the ends of the earth – he simply inspires that level of devotion in people. You see it in every curse user you briefly take in, in all of the lieutenants and commanders of his organisation--

And lucky, lucky you. You get to be one of the people that he, in turn, is devoted to.

He shows you his devotion later on that night, when Mimiko and Nanako are tucked up in their room, a bedtime story read and you and Suguru by their side, stroking their hair until they fall asleep.

They have nightmares about what could have happened, sometimes. The presence of the two of you soothes them and helps them slip into dreamless sleep – and the way that Mimiko cuddles up to you when you sit by her bed, or the way that Nanako rests her head on Suguru’s lap, make you ache deep in your heart. They’re going to be such wonderful big sisters. Even if their name choices, so far, have seemed more fit for a hamster or a kitten than a living, breathing child.

He gently guides you into the bedroom and simply pulls you onto the bed with him, holding you like you’re a precious piece of porcelain. His big, clever hands slide all over the contours of your body – resting where your breasts have swollen with milk, where your hips have filled out, where your thighs have become softer. The way he touches your stomach speaks of such adoration that you nearly can’t bear being handled so tenderly.

“I love you,” Suguru murmurs into your ear, and you turn your face so you can kiss his jawbone.. In the bedroom, he has softened – in his daily clothes, and not the robes, with his hair pulled back from his face, he’s soft and ordinary. One could be forgiven for not realising how dangerous he is.

He’s never been dangerous to you.

“I love you more,” you tell him, and you sigh as his hand slips to your bare thigh beneath the dress you’re wearing. His thumb rubs small circles on the soft flesh, urging you to move and straddle him. You do that with only the lightest encouragement, sighing as you feel his cock stir beneath the plain, dark pants that he’s wearing.

“Impossible,” he says, the corner of his mouth twitching. “I’d end the world for you.”

Your smile is so soft. You feel like you’re melting into him as you lean forward to brush your lips against his and his other hand rests on the small of your back, the touch intimate and careful as your dress is flipped up entirely. His thumb drags through your slit through the underwear, his smile taking over his whole face as he feels the dampness. You squirm. Ever since your pregnancy, he’s given you the slightest touch and you’ve practically come apart for him – it’s as if your body knows what relief his fingers and mouth and body can bring.

“Still just as needy as this morning?” He asks, his smile not leaving his face. “Have you been walking around all day like this? How shameless.”

You quiet him with your mouth on his, letting him push the underwear to one side and reach into his pants to take hold of his cock, the slick sound of him giving it a few cursory pumps echoing in the room. You two are good at being quiet. You’ve had plenty of practise.

You nip at his lower lip and murmur against him;

“You’d know. You made me like this.”

“Are you complaining?” Suguru’s voice is practically a purr. You feel the head of his cock part your folds, brush against your clit in a way that makes you jerk and a whimper die in your throat. “We don’t have to do this. If you’re tired, darling, we can just go to sleep--”

“Suguru—” Your voice is a breathy little plead, and Suguru’s dark eyes meet yours as he guides it to your entrance and urges you to take his cock inside of you with a careful pat of your hip. He doesn’t push you – he’s extraordinarily careful with you, always, but especially so now you’re carrying a little part of the two of you inside of your womb. A soft hiss of breath escapes him as he feels your wet heat engulf his cock; a sigh that’s matched by your own, as the ache inside of you is sated by the familiar sting of him opening up. The familiar fullness that makes you feel at home.

He lets you set the pace; a slow rock of your hips against him, so you’re able to find the most comfortable position. The distension of your stomach means that some of your former favourites are no longer an option, but Suguru never complains – merely looks at you as if you’re the first person to ever be having a baby.

You swear Suguru thinks you invented the concept of pregnancy and treats you accordingly; but he adores doting on you in the same way he adores doting on the girls, so you’d never ask him to stop.

Your fingers come up to cling to his shoulders whilst you let yourself bounce on his cock, the soft breaths escaping you mixing with Suguru’s in the air, pleased and heady.

It feels so nice to have him buried so deep inside of you. You feel like you and Suguru are one entity; your breasts pressing against his chest, your hearts beating as one. Your nails dig into those lean, muscled shoulders as you shift yourself just a little forward and his cock rubs against a sweet spot inside of you that makes your stomach twist in on itself.

“You’re so pretty,” Suguru murmurs, staring at where you’re fucking yourself on his cock. “You really are perfect, you know.”

Heat rushes to your cheeks, but you don’t let up on the pace you’ve established even as one of Suguru’s clever, nimble fingers slips between the apex of your thighs to gently rub at your clit.

“We’ve already done that one,” you try and tell him, though the feel of his practised fingers playing you, edging you towards a crescendo, makes your head feel fuzzy and woollen.

“Have we?” He asks, mildly. He swirls his finger about the bud and your stomach goes tight and hot. “I suppose I forget because you’re the only thing I can think about right now.”

“Flatterer,” you breathe, as his fingers do something magical – a gentle squeeze to the pearl, mixed with a swirl and a rub that has your eyes fluttering closed as the heat in your stomach seems to flare out all over you all at once.

“You love me for it--”

He reaches forward to kiss your neck as you throw back your head. You’re briefly lost in the pleasure of it; like floating through thick syrup, your fingers and toes tingling, aftershocks making you tighten and loosen around Suguru’s cock still inside of you.

“I love you for everything,” you whisper, half into the ceiling and half to him – and, the sap that he is, it pushes him over the edge and suddenly he’s cumming, shooting ropes of his release into you as if he’s trying to put another baby inside of you. You let your body rock against it despite the overstimulation, simply to ensure that Suguru gets the best orgasm you can provide--

But your body is tired, and before you know it you’re being pulled down beside him, tucked into his embrace, a little spoon to his curled over, possessive big one. You’ll have to clean up, you think, feeling his cum spilling down your thighs. But right now, he is warm and he is holding you and you love him, so you relax against Suguru’s surprisingly broad chest and let your eyelids flicker closed.

Being pregnant sure is exhausting, huh?

“Are you going to sleep?”

“No,” you say, sighing. “I’m just enjoying the peace and quiet. We won’t have it when the baby’s here--”

He laughs.

“We’ll find time,” he reassures you, fingertips skating over your hips. He pauses, as if considering something, his hand resting over your stomach (he does this a lot; you know it’s an excuse for him to feel if the baby kicks). “I’m sure we can.”

“I think you’re being over-optimistic.”

Suguru kisses your cheek again, brushing sweat-slick hair from your forehead.

“Do you think,” he asks you, “it would be over-optimistic to wonder if Mimiko and Nanako would appreciate another sibling after this one?”

It would.

But you think about it too.

You think it would be nice to have a big family with Suguru Geto. You know he’ll be the best father.

After all, he already is.

#geto x reader #suguru geto x reader #getou x reader #geto suguru x reader #geto smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #not sfw #afab reader #fem pronouns #pregnancy for ts #writing

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thecarnivorousmuffinmeta · 3 years

Note

How long would it take the volturi to solve the Kira case?

Fascinating question, anon, I like it. So much so you get answered much earlier than you normally would be.

Shinigami and the World of Twilight

In Twilight there are few supernatural creatures that remain in our world. There's vampires, children of the moon, and the shapeshifter. However, these need not be the only supernatural creatures.

There have likely been mass extinctions (seen in Children of the Moon) and there may be more creatures that are so uncommon that we just don't see any hint of them.

Death Note's Shinigami easily fall into this category.

They live in another dimension, and in the human world (which they rarely visit in person), they're invisible to the eye save for those who have touched their death note. Their methods of killing are so unobtrusive, (heart attacks by default or whatever method they please), that they're unlikely to be noticed unless someone (i.e. Light) is trying to make a point. And in the grand scheme of things, Shinigami also kill relatively infrequently, meaning that any odd death gets passed off as that: an odd death. Also being forbidden to kill for the sake of a human being means that the deaths tend to be a) random b) whatever amuses them the most. That'd be hard to pick a pattern up of.

Shinigami exist in such a manner that I doubt even the Volturi are aware of them.

Some Ground Rules For the Post

I don't see why vampires would have an innate ability to see Shinigami that humans lack. As a result, the Volturi are in the same boat everyone else is, they can't see a Shinigami unless they touch that Shinigami's notebook.

Also, per the manga, the Kira case takes place from 2003-2010, meaning that as Twilight is happening (or before if Aro and the gang somehow solve this faster than L would), the world is mired in the Kira case.

Bella would certainly have been talking about it in Twilight. As would Edward, as he once had his Kira foray as well if on a much smaller scale and with a lot more junkies.

For the sake of my nitpicky need to have everything line up, we're going to push Death Note back a few years, to the beginning of Twilight.

Also, we're taking out L. If L's there, Aro can rely on him doing most of the work for him and only show up at the end to either murder or turn Light once L's narrowed down exactly who it is. That's not really fair per the ask, we have to leave the Volturi on their own.

With that, let's start.

Kira Makes His Appearance

Light's appearance was by no means subtle, he wanted to be noticed immediately, but he also didn't want to be noticed as a human being.

He made no televised announcements, left no messages, sent in no letters saying, "I am God, tremble before me". Instead, he let his silence speak.

He killed via heart attacks those he considered having broken the law to some heinous degree and then he sat back and watch. The public dubbed him Kira first and he only became a confirmed presence, something more real than a specter and a human who could be caught and brought to justice, when he murdered Lind L. Taylor in a public spectacle.

But this is a world without L, which means no Lind L. Taylor, instead we have Volturi and company in Volterra, utterly unconcerned with the human world.

Of course, they immediately notice once an undeniable pattern becomes clear. Human criminals are dying en masse of heart attacks, someone is making a message. The question is, to what end?

Aro wouldn't immediately think this is a human. This kind of power, this kind of gift, to be able to seemingly kill any person in the world at any time no matter the distance, is something too strong for a human. It would be unheard of to have this much power as a human.

Which means Aro believes he's looking for a vampire breaking the law.

The trouble is, it's only humans. The newborn wars are raging as always, every major coven he's ever heard of remains untouched, and there's been no noticeable uptick of deaths among the vampire population.

The only difference to them is that more of them are dangerously close to breaking the law, as crime rates are now plummeting as criminals live in terror of a spiteful god who might strike them down at any moment. This makes murders performed by vampires, in certain areas, far more noticeable.

(As Light is probably killing off known gang leaders, drug lords, etc. left and right, it's probably pandemonium in certain cities/countries. So vampires are probably alright in these places as I'm sure there's a lot of murder going on as survivors try to fill the power vacuum.)

Still, the Volturi have to put their heads together and try to think why any vampire would do this? To what end would they murder all these humans, in such a noticeable manner, and not even to eat their victims?

Aro concludes he's looking for a very young vampire, likely newborn, someone who still thinks of himself as very human and beholden to human society and who isn't aware of Volterra or else does not consider them a threat.

The Volturi Investigators

I think Aro's going to take the lead on this one. There's his gift, obviously, but he'd by far have the most interest.

Caius would be upset by the nerve of Kira, but he has no patience to track him down either when it becomes exceedingly obvious that this is going to be tricky. That, and it just doesn't seem like his thing to me. He's going to mostly sit this one out.

As for Marcus, he's not up to it.

Which makes Aro our lead detective.

The Investigation

Like L, the first thing they do is try to pinpoint the first deaths. There was the immediate deluge, of course, but that screams of confidence in this assassination gift.

Kira likely needed practice to perfect his gift or even realize he had it at all. There's going to be a first victim and it will probably be messy.

Given enough investigation, this probably leads Aro to Japan, where a man taking children hostage suddenly dies in the middle of the hostage situation when televised on national TV (though not outside of Japan). Given that Kira's a vampire, he could have moved from where he started quite easily, but Aro's willing to bet he's still somewhere in Japan.

What Aro does know is that Kira's keeping close to human society. Kira will be reading human papers, watching human television constantly, and appears to be very well-informed concerning his future victims. Both locally as well as internationally. Kira is likely still in a human settlement.

So, the first thing Aro does is look for an unusual number of casualties in any city or town in Japan. Kira will probably be in the newborn phase, may truly be only a few months old, and given his actions has probably been abandoned by his sire. Even if he has unusually high control, he's got to eat sometime, and thanks to his own actions the murder rate in major cities is way down.

Except... there's no uptick.

Crime, murder, in Japan is universally on a downwards trend. Major cities like Tokyo and small rural villages it's all the same, there's nothing noticeable.

Kira either isn't in Japan or... he's not eating.

Aro wonders if, perhaps this assassination gift of his, somehow feeds Kira. He is, after all, stealing life. He does it via heart attacks but maybe, somehow, the very act of stealing life is all Kira needs. Perhaps he doesn't have to drink blood due to this.

This blows Aro's mind for a few days but eventually he decides that, no, he's never heard of this. True, he's never heard of this gift either, but all vampires drink blood. Even Carlisle, who drinks animal blood, still drinks blood and suffers great negative effects for his avoidance of a natural diet.

Kira the vampire must still eat.

Which means, in the absence of any other explanation... Kira's not a vampire. Kira is likely a very gifted human.

Aro's mind is blown again because Holy Fuck, what a gift. Kira has blown Jane and Alec, who were only immediately noticeable in their own village, completely out of the water.

Except, the trouble is, neither Aro nor anyone else in the Volturi is a detective. Aro knows enough about human society to pay his taxes, to hire secretaries, and keep on the up and up, but he doesn't actually solve human crimes.

What he's looked for for thousands of years are vampires who break the law: and they have certain patterns, motivations, etc. that are more or less easy to spot. More, the entire point of his law is that, if Aro notices then it means you broke it. There are those that can and do fly under his radar.

How is he supposed to find a gifted human who can kill anyone in the world any time he pleases? From a brief perusal of Japanese news, there's no one immediately obvious as gifted or strange by local papers.

From earlier killings, Aro notes that Kira doesn't seem to kill between 8 in the morning to 4 pm, which might make him a student but also could mean he's working those hours.

And even if he is a student? How in the world is Aro supposed to touch the hand of every student in the entire country of Japan? Aro, who makes it a point not to navigate the human world.

Aro Calls in the Expert

When you want to hang out with the humans, there's only one vampire to call: Carlisle Cullen. As we're setting this in early Twilight, neither Eclipse nor Breaking Dawn have happened. To the Cullens, and Carlisle, Aro is simply a wise king and Carlisle's old friend.

And I'm sure Carlisle has been watching the Kira case very closely and is very disturbed by the entire thing. Kira's methods are very much not Carlisle's m.o.

Aro gives Carlisle what he knows: Kira's probably a gifted human, probably somewhere in Japan, probably in school, and has access to an extensive amount of human media.

That's it.

That's all Aro's got.

As for the police at large, without L, they haven't even narrowed it down to Japan yet.

Carlisle points out that, as much as he hangs out with humans, he doesn't think he could find the needle in the haystack either. However, he definitely wants to help in any way he can.

However, they do have something. Aro can't touch the hand of everyone in Japan, however, Edward can unobtrusively listen to a much larger segment of the population.

(Alice is off the table as she's best able to see the future of those close to her. Without knowing who Kira even is, let alone being close to him, she has no idea what he's going to even do next. She's likely very frustrated by this.)

Surely, whoever Kira is, he or she will be contemplating their victims more often than not. It's a long shot, but Edward might be able to find that needle in a haystack.

How's Edward Feel About That?

Edward's extremely conflicted. On the one hand, he doesn't want to disappoint Carlisle, and this is the first time Carlisle has ever asked him for a favor of this magnitude. And, in theory, Carlisle is right, all creatures are worthy of life.

On the other hand, Edward's on Team Kira. He thinks these rapist, murderer, pigs all deserve to die and is rooting for Kira to put the fear of God into them. Emphasizing this is when Bella was nearly raped in Port Angeles, but her would be rapist suddenly remembered himself and vomited in terror at the idea that he might be next should he get caught raping her. (As it is, Edward catches him, and a few weeks later he dies of a heart attack in prison. Edward pops the champagne).

More, if Edward goes to Japan, it means he has to leave Bella. Bella has proven she cannot survive without his personal protection. More, he's not sure he can survive without her presence. He can hardly contemplate the idea of leaving Bella, though he ultimately must, but to do so soon? He though he'd have a few more years, likely until they graduate, but now he and the family would have to move all the way to Japan in a matter of days.

Not to mention this would be letting Aro know that Edward's... not technically breaking the law but not not breaking the law either. Bella clearly suspects he's not human, she just doesn't have the right word.

And then to give Kira up to the Volturi? To have his activities stopped, to be turned and placed into the guard, or else murdered? Edward feels like he'd be selling out the brother he never knew.

But also Carlisle and imagining Carlisle's sad, disappointed, face.

Edward says yes but he really wants to say no.

He sneaks into Bella's room in the middle of the night, and for the first time, makes her aware of his presence. He tells her that regretfully he must leave her, he's off to do a man's work and catch Kira, and that they will never see each other again.

Then to Edward's horror and disappointment, Bella's completely on board for Edward catching Kira and thinks it's the noblest thing he could do. Charlie, being a chief of police, utterly despises Kira and Bella carries forward this sentiment. People deserve the due process of law, not being murdered off by some jackass conning people into believing he's a god.

Bella wishes him luck and tells him to return as soon as he can.

Edward just numbly says he won't be returning. This really is it. Goodbye forever.

Bella's utterly broken (though not nearly as much as canon as Edward didn't dump her for being boring).

Edward in Japan

Well, turns out, Edward's not actually that useful. There's a few problems.

First, there are a lot of people out there claiming to be Kira, or even convincing themselves that they're Kira. They do this to brag, to feel special, for any number of reasons.

None of them are Kira.

Second, Edward can only go out on cloudy days or at night, this severely limits when he can wander the streets and the people he'll run into. More, even if he starts with Tokyo, Tokyo's a big place. That's a lot of wandering to do.

Third, say that Edward does come across Light Yagami. Edward immediately dismisses him as being utterly insane. See, Light Yagami is talking to his imaginary friend, Ryuk, bickering about which apples they should buy from the store. Edward sees the giant clown demon that Light believes only he can see and goes, "Ah, another lunatic, cheerio."

Edward does not find Kira.

The Investigation Continues

Aro likely keeps Edward at it for months. It doesn't matter how long it takes, they're going to track down Kira and they're going to find him. It might take years, but dammit, they'll find him. Edward despairs that he will ever be able to go back to normal life.

Luckily for the gang, Bella saves their bacon.

Bella, ruminating on Edward's mission and on Kira, starts doing her own internet investigation. She doesn't get very far, but she does have those prophetic dreams to help her out.

Bella has a seriously weird dream about the moon, night gods, Kira, demons that look like giant crows, notebooks, and Light Yagami's face. Somehow, just as in canon with vampires, Bella's able to somehow put this together.

She calls up Edward (as they parted on more amiable terms, and so quickly, Edward did not yet disconnect his number) and tells him that Kira's name is Light Yagami, he's attending the University of Tokyo as the top student, and his murder weapon is an evil notebook.

How does she know this?

She looked it up on the internet.

Well, Edward isn't sure how to take that, but he also has nothing to lose. They find Light Yagami, Aro shakes his hand, and holy shit, Bella Swan was right. (Aro now decrees that she will be turned, much to Edward's horror and insistence that she has no idea he's a vampire, and has plans to recruit her for his guard).

What Are We Going to Do About Light?

Well, on the one hand, Aro discovered a new species today that he can do nothing about. Luckily, they seem to have their own laws that have more or less the same result as the Volturi laws: don't get noticed.

On the other hand, he's disappointed that this all-powerful gift was not a gift at all.

On the other other hand, Light does not seem to be an ordinary human. He's... lucky, for lack of a better term. No, it's more that he doesn't need luck, he somehow has such an awareness of everything around him that he assimilates it perfectly into his own plans. As if he can manipulate the very universe to his favor.

That's intriguing and useful, and in any other situation, Aro would jump on taking that chance and at least seeing what happens.

So the question becomes, does Aro turn Light or not? On the one hand, that's a useful gift, on the other hand, this kid's a loose cannon and a lunatic.

This Kira thing cannot continue, and Light, even as a vampire, would likely insist on continuing it somehow.

Luckily, there's a solution to this.

Aro burns the notebook, much to Ryuk's protesting despair. Light loses his memories of Ryuk, the notebook, and having been Kira. Before Light even knows what's happening, Aro turns him.

Three days later, Light wakes up a very confused vampire, gets the Volturi pitch with Chelsea there to help loosen bonds, and accepts a position in the guard to, oddly enough, stop those like Kira.

Aro's confused, but hey, they'll see how this Light thing works out. Aro also likely tells himself that he will watch for Ryuk trying to drop Light another notebook like a hawk.

The Kira case is never solved for humans: Kira just disappears one day as if he never existed. As for Light, I imagine he plots the destruction of the newborn armies, and Caius watches in utter fascination as this kid ruthlessly exterminates them all.

Bella is shortly turned into a vampire, much to Edward's despair, and due to the giant mess of this is also likely recruited to Volterra.

How Long Does This Take?

Given the need for the Volturi to first investigate, then Edward, I give them at least a year. Maybe a year and a half.

And really, it's Bella who saves their bacon.

#twilight #death note #twilight meta #death note meta #twilight headcanon #death note headcanon #light yagami #ryuk #carlisle cullen #edward cullen #anti edward cullen #aro #caius #the volturi #bella swan #meta #headcanon #opinion

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icestarphoenix · 2 years

Note

Honestly, I love your whole theory on Team Spirit, and maybe I missed a post or something describing at what point the personification would actually exist in the form we know them as? Would the state simply start out as a city or a movement and then eventually become a state? Just wanted to know your thoughts.

Do smaller communities like the Amish and even some Indigenous people have their own personifications? I also have to agree with you on your point about the states having families not making any real sense, but I do have a theory on it.

I think it's entirely possible that the states did indeed start as normal humans. That would make sense considering "poofing" into existence is kinda fickle. I believe that the Team Spirit may have chosen them in the same way you described the personification basically possessing a member of the community. So instead of multiple people over several lives, it's one guy who was around in the 1700s and just got unlucky.

Sorry about my blabbering there's so much to explore here and so very little people 😂

(and i just thought of this: because i think it be funny, at what point do you think the classification of groups becomes too broad? I know there is a LGBTQ guy who is really just a member of the community, but would the community as a whole even have a personification? And even broader, is there one for like, stamp collectors? For sports team fans? The level of ridiculous i feel this could go is incredible)

Oh man, it gives me some happy, fluffy feelings to know that someone’s actually interested in my headcanons. I prefer the idea that personifications are human-looking, and their minds are very much human in behavior, but they really aren't truly human in terms of species. It gives some angst opportunities because despite the fact that they literally personify a community of humans, there's still a part of them that doesn't let them fully fit in.

This post is going to be very long, so ya better buckle up.

Would the state simply start out as a city or a movement and then eventually become a state?

For the US states, it depends a lot on how exactly the state was started. For example, Massachusetts State might start as Plymouth Colony. Kansas may not have popped into existence until the Kansas Territory was defined. The main thing is that people have to start identifying with that community. They don’t have to start as states, and they don’t. They can start as colonies, territories, etc. I’m keeping this more open-ended because defining when exactly the idea of the future state’s community is formed is not exactly an easy task.

Do smaller communities like the Amish and even some Indigenous people have their own personifications? Is there one for like, stamp collectors? For sports team fans?

Yes to all! The main thing about personifications is that they represent a COMMUNITY. That community can be any group at all, like a company, club, religious sect, any group. However, it is random chance that a personification will appear for a community. Those chances get better and better the more people are a part of the group, with it being exceedingly rare that a personification will start representing a group under 100 members.

This means even fandoms can have personifications. Do with that what you will.

How much people identify with their community will also affect the chances. For example, comparing a group of 2,000 to 200. If the group of 2,000 only share an interest and don’t really see themselves as a community, but the group of 200 are extremely bonded with each other and are very united as a group, a personification is more likely to appear for the group of 200.

Personifications as normal humans first.

This is a perfectly fine interpretation and I like it a lot, and it has a lot of angst potential as well. I, personally, like having them not be human because of preference and to explore the differences between personifications and humans. The way it’s structured currently, I have it as their physical bodies are designed to contain their own Spirit.

So, let’s say, if some humans are somehow able to take a state’s Spirit and put it in themselves...they’re not going to be able to handle it physically and especially mentally. ESPECIALLY for the more populated states. A human’s mind will not be able to withstand Florida’s State Spirit and stay sane. His body’s built for it, a human’s is not.

As for the “poofing” into existence part, it’s mainly for the idea of when a personification comes into existence, their minds and bodies are basically already fully functional (can be not for unique cases). They know their names (if they have one), they know the main languages, and they can quickly pick up on some common skills. When they appear, they’re ready to contribute to whatever community they represent.

At what point do you think the classification of groups becomes too broad?

This is a pretty interesting question. In my current understanding of my own HCs, I don’t have a limit for what exactly too broad is. Why don’t I just say screw it and give no limit to how broad a group can be? Just for the fun of it? The Spirit form for Humanity itself would be absolutely wild and basically godlike in strength and resilience. Though, their personality would be an absolute mess as there basically isn’t any singular culture or definable traits surrounding humanity, just a melting pot of absolutely everything.

I guess that brings up another weird personification trait where the more people are a part of their community, the more nebulous their identity and personality becomes. For example, my interpretation of California is that they are split into 3 identities that inhabit a single body (NorCal, South, Central Valley). All three are, in essence, California, and their Spirit encompasses the entire state no matter who is in front. The one we usually see in videos is NorCal, with South being the brief apearance of the surfer-dude personality they had in Weekly News Recap 5-8. There is no singular identity that is just “California” in my interpretation.

I like keeping my HCs open ended and open to interpretation because I want people to have their own fun with them too.

Extras

There are some other small extra things I want to mention just for the fun of it.

Personifications can be a part of another personification’s community. City personifications are a part of their state’s. Continental Congress (Baby Gov), for example, had a large proportion of his people being the OG 13 personifications.

The concept of personifications can form some neat alternate history scenarios. While not history-changing, I find it funny that a personification that happened to have purple eyes could accidentally spur people into believing that Alexandria’s Genesis was real again.

Personifications are forbidden from holding any world records (even for ones who don’t reach superhuman physicality). Any sort of achievement is chalked up to “supernatural stuff,” and therefore it’s considered unfair to human competitors.

None of the personifications are biologically related (since they just pop into existence). However, they can call each other siblings or families to feel more kinship with their humans.

The states use their statehood dates as their “birthdays.”

Landlocked states are more prone to seasickness.

All the American personifications are recorded and cataloged by the federal government in the National Personification List (NPL, name subject to change).

Thanks for the ask! No worries about blabbering, I should be the one apologizing instead. I enjoyed actually being able to talk about my HCs to someone else. It’s surprisingly difficult for me to properly word my thoughts about them in a way that aren’t confusing. Hope you enjoyed my ramblings, and feel free to ask questions!

#replies!#didnt think id actually get this far #welcome to the table #welcome to the statehouse #ben brainard #wttt #wttsh

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wyyvernn · 3 years

Text

Merman!Kaeya x Reader

Featuring a gender!neutral reader

Felt like posting this here too~

____________________

There's nothing that bores Kaeya more than an empty schedule with little to nothing to do.

"So boring..."

His duties are cleared for the day, tasks completed to a flawless finish, the underwater city of Mondstadt has been scouted thoroughly on the border to ensure no invaders enter through and the mer knights are ready to retire back into their quarters.

There's just one thing, though. Kaeya can't return yet, he tells himself mentally as a shimmering glimmer of metal catches his eye on the surface of the ocean. The warm light of the setting sun helps the water reflect the shine of the unknown object floating above.

And as Kaeya goes to investigate with much caution, he comes to recognise it as an iron hook. As he swims up closer to get a better look, his hand reaches out, fingers locking around the small claw.

There's an opposing force that suddenly whips the water and before long he feels himself being dragged against a current. That is until the hook attached to a string breaks and he too with it. Eyes narrowed and brows knitted, he feels even more compelled to find the source of the commotion above the sea.

Blue iridescent scales glisten beneath light as the merman's tail flaps rapidly behind him, his arms working into a pace that allows him to drive through the water above. As he reaches the top, his head comes up out of the ocean, eyes peeking over the surface and his mind screaming at him to be alert.

Only, as his sight adjusts to the scene in front of him, he realises that there's not much of a threat at all.

Just a lonely human sitting on a rock with a fishing rod in hand.

"Curse the ocean, I almost had one! It felt like a mighty fish as well!"

They're grumbling and their fingers are fumbling around with a new fishing line to attach to their fishing rod. And archons, Kaeya is at a loss for words as the person lifts their head suddenly, their eyes piercing right through his own as he stills, too stunned to move.

They're beautiful. Ethereal, he thinks, and coming from a creature of mythic beauty himself, he finds the truth hard to be believe.

He's never seen a land folk so wonderful before, then again, he hasn't seen very many land folk in the past either. He rarely uses his legs; finding them too much of a bother to walk with like humans do on ground.

"You...what are you doing in the water? Don't you know these waters are for fishing only?"

Oh, if only they knew. The merman shook his head chuckling, creating little ripples around his body.

"Hm? I'm not sure which is more charming, your beauty or your sass," Kaeya thought aloud, and a smirk conjured on his lips when he caused a very apparent blush to appear on your cheeks.

Shaking your head in agitation, you watched him come up to shore, on the threshold of where the water meets the sand and you were shocked to find that his lower half didn't exactly look...human. In fact, from where anyone would expect legs, there was only an exceedingly long fish tail attached to a gorgeously toned and tan torso. Blue and cyan scales littered the entire appendage while the caudal fin spread like streams of sheer ribbon, smacking the surface of the water in excitement.

"Surprised? Most land folk are when they see someone like me..." he flashed a pearly grin, his wet navy strands clinging to the side of his face as he flapped his tail one more time over the water.

And you could only gawk at this living creature in awe and panic, your hands clenching around your fishing rod till your skin tightened over your knuckles.

"W-what are you...?!" You exclaimed, brows twisting in disbelief.

The unknown creature pouted, placing a hand to his chest in mock offence, using his other to prop himself up on the sand, "My, such an audacious human you are~ I ought to come over there and teach you some proper manners...oh well, I suppose that won't do much good, seeing as you've never witnessed a merman before..."

"A mer-merman?! But they don't exist..."

"Hm, then perhaps you're seeing things. Maybe I'm real, maybe I'm not. Maybe you're dreaming or maybe...you're not real," he sent a wry smile your way, his fingertips drumming his cheek in thought.

The thought flew right passed your head, still too engrossed in the fact that a real life merman has decided to intrude upon your outdoor activity.

You ignored his comment and gradually rose from your seat, taking into account that he seemed relaxed and that his smile was slowly increasing with each cautious step you took towards him.

The merman hummed in question, his brow cocking ever so slightly at your newfound bravery, "Oh? Come to find out the truth for yourself?"

You bent down nervously, your knees crashing into the sand below while your hands kept yourself from falling forward.

You could view him clearly now. Scales, otherworldly beauty, handsome face and all laying less than an arms length away.

How... how is this possible?

The thought kept playing in your mind and without realising, you must've been staring at him too long because as soon as he spoke, embarrassment washed over your face.

"It's rude to stare~"

And he may have been right, but no one has ever caught your eye like a mysterious merman before.

"Ah- oh...sorry... so, what's your name?"

Without warning, the creature's eye lit up and his hand reached forth to snatch your own, bringing the back of it to his mouth.

"Kaeya, Kaeya Alberich. One of the captains of the Mer Knights of Favonius in the underwater city of Mondstadt," he introduced, his lips tilting up a tad before he planted a kiss to your knuckles.

You blushed deeply and Kaeya could've sworn it was the most adorable thing he'd ever seen.

"Uhh, Y/n. Just Y/n."

Kaeya repeated your name, sounding it, whispering it gently on his tongue, savouring it before slowly another flirtatious smile graced his lips.

"A lovely name indeed~" he uttered lowly, his caudal fin clapping the water behind him gleefully as you thanked him gently.

Silence touched the air abrubtly and you didn't take notice that you were staring at him again, this time at his tail. The colours reflected in your eyes like diamonds and crystals, deep navy blues and shining whites like glitter beneath the setting sun's rays.

"You can touch it if you'd like," he said flopping on his back. His lonely eye twinkled in mischief but beneath that, a sense of sincerity lay hidden.

You reached out, appreciative of the fact that he didn't seem to jerk away. Your palm came in contact with the base of the tail first, the scales smooth as you felt down one side, and rough as you moved your digits against the other.

"Beautiful," you spoke, voice barely above a whisper. Kaeya seemed to like that, shuffling his tail closer.

As you were about to touch one of his fins, a sharp breath drew your hands back in surprise. In the next second, the tail seemed to dissipate into tiny blue shards and in their place lay a pair of toned legs instead.

You jerked, landing back on your arms in shock, "What just happened?! D-Did I do that?!"

Immediately, you registered that Kaeya no longer wore the appearance of a merman, but rather he was now a full adult human man, which only meant one thing...

"No, no. I usually regain my legs when I'm out of water for awhile...uh? Is there a reason why you're not looking at me, sweetheart? Am I not beautiful anymore...?" He pouted, inching closer on the wet sand.

"You're not...you...you're naked, Kaeya..."

The merman shot his gaze between his legs and sure enough, he finally understood why you were flushing profusely.

Kaeya felt a crooked smirk reach his mouth and he moved across to your body, his lips grazing your ear a little and his voice only a seductive whisper.

"You know...I don't mind if you touch me down there too~"

That earned him a whack to his face.

#kaeya #kaeya alberich #kaeya x reader #merman!kaeya #genshin impact #mihoyo #genshin impact kaeya

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potteresque-ire · 3 years

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hello, ily metas! thank you for taking the time for them. i hope you dont mind an ask with two follow up questions to your metas i'm curious about: 1) has mxtx rly been sentenced? i have seen others also share this news but other fans have quickly dismissed and gotten pissed at these reports for being fake news that are bad for mxtx, and as fearmongering. 2) for those who want to support yizhan but not the ccp, do you have advice how to navigate fan support and interaction with their media?

Hello! I apologise for the late reply! You’ve brought up some interesting points, so please forgive me for responding with an essay.

First, about MXTX — This is a follow-up to this post.

Unfortunately, this is all we got—all everyone has got about MXTX’s current situation: on 2020/11/10, she was sentenced in Hangzhou Shang Cheng District’s People’s Court (杭州市上城區人民法院). No details were given on her verdict, due to “人民法院認為不宜在互聯網公布的其它情形” (“The People’s Court decided it inappropriate to announce further details on the internet”). Here’s a link with the screenshot that showed all the information released about the case that day.

There are enough copies of similar screenshots to this one online, with the differences dependent on where the publisher pulled the information from the same website: 中國裁判文書網, an online archive of verdicts run by China Supreme People’s Court. There’re few reasons, therefore, to believe the information on the screenshot was fake. The link I used was Sina’s Financial News, which I believe is trustworthy enough for China’s standard.

It is also important to note, of course, that two scenarios may still render this screenshot irrelevant. 1) The verdict, which was not mentioned in the screenshot, was “not guilty” and 2) the name listed in the case, 袁依楣, was not MXTX at all.

Few have seemed to suspect 2) to be a possibility. Her real name might have been prior knowledge among some fans, or the combination of her surname and city of residence. 1) has been the where the concern / debate is.

I included China’s rate of conviction in the original post for this reason: acquittal is exceedingly rare (<0.1%) for the arrested in China. This short article discussed some reasons.

So, is it possible that MXTX is now a free woman? Yes. Is it likely? Not at all.

Still, since the probability that MXTX is imprisoned isn’t 100%, is spreading this news smearing her name? Fear-mongering?

I can only answer for myself, Anon, but my answer is no for both questions, which is why I’ve felt comfortable posting about her case. MXTX’s alleged “crimes” are things we already knew she did, or common practices among Chinese IP writers. We know she penned MDZS and other BL works; we know MDZS, in particular, has an 18+ element. She was said to have sold merch based on her works, but that wasn’t unusual at all for writers in Jinjiang, where she published her writing. Even those who don’t like her have seemed to agree that it was her writing that got her into trouble, not some other crimes she could’ve committed.

IMO, a guilty verdict doesn’t tell us as much about her as it does about the judicial system, the business practices of her country. It’s worth re-mentioning that media giants such as Tencent are closely tied to the government; Tencent’s WeChat, for example, is part of China’s Great Firewall and is used for surveillance, for censorship and removal of political dissidents. What MXTX’s case hints at is this: the government has (very likely) convicted her, while its close allies are continuing to use her works—works that got her into legal trouble in the first place—to make money. Some fans of MXTX have questioned if the courts have censored the details of the case to save the embarrassment of the rich and powerful, calling what has happened to MXTX 人血饅頭 (“human blood steamed buns”), an idiom used to describe the act of profiting out of someone elses’ life.

As for fear-mongering, here are my thoughts ~ it would’ve been fear-mongering if the public has access to the facts, and not years after they happen. Specifically, it would’ve been fear-mongering to leak the rumours of MXTX’s sentencing, when the judicial system is transparent and the case details will soon be published for all to see. Why? Because “fear” comes from the unknown, and “-monger” is the unnecessary promotion, stirring-up of this fear.

To promote, stir up anything, one needs a reference level. The reference level in this scenario is this: what is the level of fear if the facts about MXTX’s (and other BL writers’) situation are known? Of course, this knowledge doesn’t make MXTX’s experience any easier or more just; it doesn’t cause her less fear. However, she isn’t the target audience of this likely-to-be-true rumour. The target audience is the public and in particular, those who consume and/or generate BL material online.

What is the level of fear among this population if the facts about MXTX’s (and other BL writers’) situation are known? It’s the (relative) comfort in knowing the government’s stance on what they do: how the administration feels about BL, 18+ BL, and their distribution methods. The comfort comes from having the right information to decide how to act accordingly. For example, if I’m a BL writer based in China and I know the court has found MXTX guilty of bypassing publishing houses but not of writing M/M romance, then I’ll know to not produce paper versions of my writing, but I can keep writing.

This reference level of fear is unavailable here, however, since the government has decided to withhold all details about the case. Without this reference level, fear-mongering becomes a ... difficult to define concept.

Are these likely-to-be-true rumours agents of fear, or are they hints on how to survive in a country that lacks transparency?

Continuing with the example of I being a Chinese BL writer, since I cannot expect to hear more facts about MXTX, this rumour is all I’ve got in choosing what to do with my hobby, in deciding whether it is safe to continue. As I’m aware that a rumour isn’t a fact, I first research on the rumour’s likelihood of truth (similar to what I’ve done for MXTX’s case), and cross my fingers that I don’t get it wrong.

By doing so, I’m turning these rumours into my survival guide.

Is it risky? Yes. Is it exhausting? Absolutely. But this is the way of life for people who live under secretive, authoritarian governments—the authoritarian element making it impossible to demand more facts. It may take people outside such regimes some time to get used to—to the lifestyle, and to the idea that, in a place where news is often synonymous with propaganda, rumours are breadcrumbs of truth that should be sieved through with equal care as one would sieve through the news. Heeding, considering the probable truth of what the authority has deemed to be fear-mongering rumours can be a matter of literal life and death.

Take...COVID. (I apologize for bringing up this unpleasant topic!)

I shall link to an article about the early spread of COVID in Wuhan here and ask: were Dr. Li Wenliang and the seven other doctors fear-mongering? Wuhanese chose to believe in the government, but at what cost to them? What would the world be like today if they took the early COVID rumours as true and masked up like Hong Kongers—Hong Kongers who weren’t any smarter or better, but had simply learned their painful lessons from the 2003 SARS epidemic?

(Why hadn’t the Wuhanese learned? Because the government has long changed the narrative of SARS, taught their people that the illness originated in Hong Kong.)

(How can one learn from past mistakes if one pretends those mistakes never existed?)

You must be wondering, Anon, why I’m talking about COVID when your next question is about YiZhan. The death of Dr Li Wenliang on February 7th, 2020, sparked a demand for freedom of speech rarely seen in internet-age China. Its fury, its ferocity forced the government to change its stance on Dr Li, again an unusual move. Since January 2020, Weibo had been censoring COVID news and opinion pieces that shedded a negative light to the central government; after the death of Dr Li, the censorship apparatus stepped up, making way for the propaganda machine to kick in later and change the narrative of the pandemic.

Here are some questions without definite answers, but may be food for thought for YiZhan fans:

1) While the Chinese government’s censorship apparatus (including Weibo) might have silenced the voices of dissent, of mourning on the surface, was it more likely to pacify, or fuel the anger of netizens, many of whom had lost loved ones, many of whom were still under quarantine?

2) Less than three weeks after the death of Dr Li, a group of fans demanded even *more* censorship from the government—the closing of an internet website that had been seen as a relatively free space to express oneself. How would these netizens react, even though they knew little about these fans or their idol?

(It was, in the context of the massive silencing of COVID discussions in China, that I learned about the ban of AO3. There had been rumours that the government would censor more websites on 2020/03/01. When I read about AO3′s ban on 2/27, my thoughts were 1) Hmm. This came two days early. 2) AO3? Really?)

(I wouldn’t watch The Untamed or know who Gg was until several months later.)

Now, Anon, this is a good time to get to your CCP (Chinese Communist Party) question.

The very short answer is no. There’s no way to support YiZhan without, to a certain level, supporting the CCP. As mentioned above, the media companies are all part of China’s surveillance system. Weibo is where freedom of speech is curbed. Our two boys have been part of the propaganda machine; the BBC article linked above had a tiny picture of Gg on it, as he was a performer in the Hero in Harm’s Way (最美逆行者), a “real-life based” drama on COVID. DD just did a show glorying the Chinese police force (and here’s a video of the same force welding doors to lock in COVID-stricken residents).

Nonetheless, here’s my first advice: please do not beat yourself up for supporting YiZhan!

Gg and Dd are people who live within the system, inside the Great Firewall. They understand the world the way their government has taught them to—not only in school, but also in the news and media. Like most youths in every country, they’re patriotic—and to expect them to be otherwise, especially because of information they don’t have, is both unrealistic and unfair. Even if they do know about certain things impermissible within the Firewall, in China (as in many Communists countries), openly expressing / performing one’s proper political leanings (ie. loyalty towards CCP) is among the most important pre-requisites for any job. This has been especially true for c-ent in recent years .

They, like most of their countrymen, are doing what they have to do.

In this case, it comes to us, our decisions on how to interact with their works. How should we deal with them, their propaganda elements?

The answer, of course, varies from person to person. Personally, I’ve chosen the approaches of “immunisation” and “restriction”. By “immunisation”, I mean learning about as much historical and sociopolitical facts from non-CCP sponsored sources; this is understandably difficult for someone who doesn’t already have some familiarity with the culture and politics of the region, and/or cannot read the language.

Restriction means limiting my consumption of media produced by China. I avoid shows (dramas, documentaries, variety etc) featuring topics that are likely to contain heavy propaganda, such as the military, the police, Hong Kong/Macao/Taiwan, and of course, anything pertaining to the CCP, from its rise to its governance of the country.

In general, I’m wary of all information presented about the post-monarchy years (post 1911), even though CCP wouldn’t begin its reign until after WWII (1949). Why so early? 1) Because CCP was formed in 1921 and so its glorification requires a change of narrative since then; 2) because the Nationalist Party (Kuomintang, KMT), which governed China between 1912 and 1949 (the so-called Republican Era 民國), would end up exiling to and setting up a new government in Taiwan.

How much propaganda should one expect in shows depicting the country post-1911? The current TV and webdrama directives (previously discussed in this post) offer some hints. Here are my translations of the relevant items:

D7) Dramas about the Republican era: Glorification of the Republican Era, the Beiyang Government, and Warlord Era requires strict control.

D10) Crime drama: crime drama is the focus of content auditing. The Ministry of Public Security (Pie note: in charge of law enforcement, ie, police) will be involved in the audit. The process of crime solving cannot be exposed; criminal psychology and motivations can however be depicted in detail. Undercover police cannot use drugs or kill, or damage the image of the police force. Criminals must be punished by law.

D12) Dramas featuring realistic topics: realistic topics must adhere to the correct world view, philosophy of life and moral values. They cannot place too strong an emphasis on social conflicts, must showcase the beautiful lives of the commoners. Regular folks should display larger-than-life sentiments and aspirations; they can pursue wealth, but must use proper means to do so; they cannot damage the public image of specific employment types, groups and social organisations. Do not preach negative or decadent world view, philosophy of life and moral values. Do not exaggerate, amplify social issues; do not over showcase, display the darker sides of society; do not preach affluence, avoid things that have no basis in real life.

D16) Dramas featuring the Revolution (Pie note: CCP’s coming to power): 2019 is the publicity period of the 70th Anniversary of the People’s Republic of China. Although the “Three Importances” (important revolution, important people, important events) are still encouraged, the National Radio and Television Administration requires all departments, at all levels, to strengthen the control of content and the overall management of the industry, and focus on the auditing of content pertaining to the Sino-Japanese war and espionage dramas.

These directives (as those translated in the other post) are as vague as they are restrictive, and to err on the side of caution, production companies tend to “overachieve” to avoid going against headwinds at the censorship board. This means their products have a tendency to malign the Republican Era (D7). It means they will likely twist history in trying to depict the CCP as faultless heroes (D16). It means they'll probably present a utopian-like society and call it reality-based (D12), a society in which the good guys share the same values as the CCP and always win (D10).

Yes, my “restriction” means I skipped Hero in Harm’s Way. It means I’ve never listened to Gg’s version of 我和我的祖國 despite my absolute adoration of his voice. It means I just missed Dd’s performance in the law enforcement celebration event. It means I don’t plan on watching Being A Hero and Ace Troops.

So here’s where I’ve drawn the line, Anon, but it doesn’t mean that’s what anyone should do. Only you alone can decide where your own comfort zone is. I write these metas in the hopes that it can offer a … gateway for those who’d like to understand, with a more telescopic lens, Gg and Dd’s country—a country that holds a particularly strong hold over its citizens’ fate including, yes, their romantic fate. It’s not my wish to impose my opinions on anyone.

If I have other hopes… It’s this. Please, as long as it’s safe for you to talk, do not self-censor—especially about facts, especially on sites like Tumblr or Twitter that have long been banned by the Chinese government. I don’t mean one should go about and confront those who insist on a different version of reality. To undo opinions rooted in years of education, IMO, the process has to be voluntary, and the information is already at the fingertips of those who’re surfing these sites and wish to learn more. More importantly, open discussions of these topics may be risky for those who still have close ties to China, and keeping them safe should always be the top priority.

What I mean is simply this ~ please do not feel obliged to agree with every perspective presented in YiZhan’s work just because you support the leads. Please do not feel you must remain silent about the CCP—its good, bad and ugly—just because your favourite stars happen to come from the country it’s ruling. And please remember: “Chinese”, as a term, has always included people who live outside CCP’s control, many of whom still fully embrace the culture, traditions and values of Historical China, a 5000-years long string of dynasties with shifting borders, ethnic makeup and customs. The Untamed is a mainland Chinese production, yes, but its genre, its manner of presenting certain traditions, wouldn’t have been developed, or flourished, without the diaspora. The CCP has only been the ruling party of one country, the People’s Republic of China, for 71 years, and as a party with foreign (soviet) roots and a record of destroying the pillar of the country’s tradition, Confucianism, it doesn’t own a monopolistic say on how every Chinese should think and act—no matter how much it insists it does—or how everyone should think and speak about China and its people.

It isn’t qualified.

#Anonymous #pie metas #pie answers #BJYX #yizhan

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plainlo-inthemorning · 3 years

Text

A Loki TVA/Lokane fic. Rating T.

Previously: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4 (of 6)

Shine a Light, part 5

He is aware that the love of his life is digging her fingers into his arm and saying his name.

He is aware of Stark standing to his other side, visor off, speaking to someone on the phone. His voice is hard.

But most of all, Loki is aware that all their lives were just changed by a great big terrifying rip in the seam of reality.

Neither Jane nor the Avenger could possibly be completely sure of what they saw. Loki, as much as he desperately wants to, harbors little doubt.

The man he held in a death-grip only minutes ago and who just now disappeared through a doorway conjured out of thin air was somehow … himself.

Another him. Just as the man had said.

After witnessing from afar the double kiss Jane, Loki, who was coming back from a swim, had been more than ready to skip past introductions and just sever the intruder’s head from his body.

But as soon as he had laid hands on him, a torrent of images had flooded his mind – chaotic, confused images that seemed to span past, present, future and beyond.

The shock had made him lessen his grip and the double had used his (his!) magic to throw him off.

With some distance between them and Stark suddenly there as well, Loki had tried to let his rage quell the dizzying realization. Unsuccessfully.

He is still shaking, clutching a dagger in each hand. He drew them instinctively as the other made for the door.

He should have caught him!

“Loki! What did he say?!”

“What?” His thoughts are racing in too many directions to hear her.

“The … man, what was he saying to you?!”

Jane is looking up at him with those beautiful brown eyes, worry and urgency all over her delicate features. Though not fear, Loki notes. His ever-brave wife. Both her hands are now clamped around his wrist.

That thing kissed her.

The daggers disappear and Loki wraps both arms around the mother of his unborn child, almost crushing her to his chest while still staring at the spot where the double vanished.

“It’s okay. It’s okay, love”, he murmurs. He suspects things are very much not okay.

So does Jane, of course.

“Loki, was it … oof, not so tight … “

She wriggles against him, and he remembers his amor. And her condition. He immediately relaxes his arms a bit while letting the leather and metal melt back into the clothes he wore before: Black jeans and a fitted, dusty green t-shirt (his “rockstar outfit”, Jane had called it, when Loki first started switching up his human wardrobe some years ago now). Drops of saltwater still cling to the ends of his slightly curly raven locks.

“Tony! Jane, Loki! What on Earth was that?”

Pepper jumps out of the car parked in front of the house and runs towards them. She must have seen everything as she drove down the road following her flying husband.

“The verdict’s still out, Peps”. Tony nods at Loki. “You wanna chip in here? I just called the boy-scout at headquarters and told him to be on guard for one of the magician’s interns playing a prank”.

Loki shakes his head slowly.

“Unfortunately, I don’t think Stephen had anything to do with this”.

“You’re right, I didn’t”.

All four of them turn around to see the sorcerer step out of a swirling ring of light, his cape billowing around him. The mahogany floor and paneled walls of his Manhattan mansion are briefly visible behind him before the portal closes with a hiss of little sparks.

Strange is wearing an even sterner expression than usual which only adds to Loki’s growing sense of dread.

Tony, however, groans loudly.

“Dude, really? Couldn’t you at least have let us have dinner before party crashing? Not shaming your bachelor lifestyle or anything, but this was couples’ night!”

“Tony!” Pepper hits her husband on the arm.

Strange ignores him.

“I’m afraid the arrival of your surprise visitor indicates that a set of … unfortunate events have been set in motion”.

As always, his voice is as even as if he was reading the weather forecast, but by now Loki has learned to differentiate the (very) subtle nuances between scorn and sincerity. Strange places his hands behind his back and regards them coolly. “I’ve had Wong reach out to Doctor Banner and director Fury. They should be here shortly. Stark, you may want to-”.

Tony narrows his eyes, lip twitching.

“Hey, Bleeker Street, you know I have low tolerance for you showing up and barking orders without giving two f**** for context. How did you even know that something was going down here? By all means, don’t keep us in suspense until the cavalry gets here”.

Strange doesn’t answer, but the way his eyes dart to Jane sends needles through Loki’s heart.

“Let’s go sit down, shall we?” With one eyebrow raised, Strange puts on a suave smile and gestures towards the house. The effect is a little startling.

Jane ducks out from under Loki’s arms. “Jane, don’t you want to-“. She brushes him off.

“Yes, good idea, Stephen. Let’s go sit down”. She motions for Strange to follow. “Welcome to our home. I was actually making drinks before, but I think I need to add a bit more kick to them…”

Her voice is oddly calm, and Loki fights the urge to grab her and magic them both far, far away, not caring that she would be furious with him for making decisions on her behalf.

He’s brought back to the present by an even odder sound as Strange actually chuckles.

Loki is not sure he’s ever heard it before. Then again, it’s not that he really knows Strange when it comes down to it. Like Tony, Loki finds the wizard exceedingly arrogant.

Pepper is the first to follow Jane and Strange across the lawn while Loki and Tony hang back.

“Real ladies’ man when he wants to. Who would have thought”. The billionaire superhero scoffs. His suit has folded itself off and into a briefcase next to his feet.

“Tony-“

“Uh oh. First name basis. So this really is an emergency”.

Loki faces his friend. Often in the past years, as they’ve grown steadily closer outside of “work”, he has secretly marveled at how long they’ve come since someone threw someone else off a building after being called a diva.

And attacking a city with an alien army.

Jane always insisted the two “hotheads” (her word) had a lot in common when not trying to murder one another (be it with weapons or sarcastic commentary), and Loki has to admit she was right. The metal man is fiercely intelligent, and Loki has been enjoying the quick-witted snark between them infinitely more than he ever valued the company of Thor’s band of gullible warrior groupies on Asgard.

“Well?”. Tony is regarding him with eyebrows raised, expectant. “Give me your take on this cause I’m starting to put together some rather outlandish theories myself here that I’m kinda hoping you’ll thwart ASAP”.

Loki draws in a deep breath.

“That thing with Banner at the tower two years ago-“

“Fuck!” Tony exhales, exasperated. “I knew you were gonna say that”. He squints into the distance towards the ocean, his mouth a tight line. It’s a rare day that Tony Stark is caught under a clear blue sky without sunglasses but for once he doesn’t seem to notice.

Loki takes a step closer to him and lowers his voice so they won’t alert the others just yet.

“I told you then and you didn’t want to listen! Everything about Bruce’s story was off. I know he didn’t remember much after Steve took him down, but you all pretty much accused me of trying to get back at him for, well, you know what, and I kept telling you I thought someone had gotten to him! Now-“

Loki searches for the words. It’s beyond absurd.

“That man was a version of me, Tony. I have no idea how, but I felt it. I saw into his mind. It was filled with images from my past and then … other, recent memories. Dark ones. He came from nowhere. Literally. It didn’t feel like a place. I tried to discard it as a trick, you saw that, but…” Loki runs his hand through his moist hair. “Stephen obviously felt something tear open too. And that is not a good sign”.

He has Tony’s full attention.

“Tear open? Could this other you be associated with your old boss? With Thanos?”

Loki winces.

“No, I don’t think he’s involved”, he says sharply. “But I can’t be sure …”

Tony catches his tone pats his shoulder. “Okay, okay. Shake it off. Didn’t mean to suggest anything. Let’s say he’s not. I’d much prefer that, at least until the wizard presents us with an even uglier imminent threat to the universe. Which, judging by the fact that he’s even here, willingly sipping cocktails in your kitchen as we speak, he probably will”.

Tony throws his hands up with a dramatic air.

“And here I thought the most challenging part of this weekend would be to convince you two to come see Hamilton with us in the city next week!”

“Who’s-“

“Never mind. Did you get a look at that gadget your guy was holding? Boy, he looked like an office slave who’d slept under his desk for a month before getting fired, didn’t he? Were you ever into accounting yourself by any chance?”

Loki shuts his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. Immediately he sees the image of the double kissing Jane, his arms wrapped firmly around her supple body. Rage rushes right back through him and his eyes snap open.

“Stark - I can’t. But yes, I did notice the device. It looked like a phone”.

“Yeah, somehow I don’t think it was the new iPhone”.

Tony shakes his head.

“The two of us and we didn’t take him down. Fury’s gonna have our badges”.

The director of SHIELD and Bruce Banner arrive barely 15 minutes later through a portal in the middle of the meadow-like lawn, following Wong and both looking grim and out of place as they weave around patches of wildflowers to reach the porch.

“Gentlemen, I trust you’re well”. Loki greets the trio with an only vaguely sarcastic nod as he holds open the screen doors to them, like a good host. Despite what some may still think, he can behave.

He could have just used magic of course, but he figures Banner is freaked enough as it is just by being here. The scientist hasn’t spoken more than five words to him since 2014 and at least three of them were expletives.

Once inside the small living room, Bruce goes to stand by the window and busies himself polishing his glasses with a little too much vigor than seems warranted.

He avoids Loki’s eyes but looks up and smiles wearily as Jane comes over to say hello.

Fury leans against the doorframe to the hallway and crosses his arms, face a closed book, and, by the sound of it, Tony is going through the cabinets in the kitchen trying to find something to spice up Jane’s pre-dinner cocktails.

Pepper is talking to Strange and Wong on the blue IKEA couch (assembled by magic after the attempt to go at it “as a team” turned into a shouting match), and Loki is about to politely ask Strange to please spit it out right this minute, when Jane is next to him, taking his hand.

“We need to talk. Now”.

Her voice is low and steady but her eyes insisting. She squeezes his fingers.

He squeezes back. “Come”.

Loki looks to Fury but he’s focused on Strange who’s listening very closely to something Wong’s saying.

Not letting go of Jane’s hand, he turns towards the kitchen. In the doorway they pass Tony who’s now holding what appears to be a glass of scotch. He must have given up on the gin and tonics.

“Hey, where are you two going? Forget about playing hosts okay, let’s just get started with part two of the evening’s entertainment”.

“In a minute”.

Jane pushes past him, ignoring Tony’s look and dragging Loki with her.

She closes the door behind them.

“Okay, so…” Jane looks around nervously in the small kitchen with the rustic white fronts and old brass handles. She loves that kitchen. They haven’t changed a thing since moving in. Loki reaches for her, but she takes a step back. “Jane, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I should have gotten there faster. Did he …“

“I need you tell me exactly what he said to you”.

She is absentmindedly opening and closing her fists in the way she does when that brilliant astrophysicist mind of hers is working out an intricate problem in the lab.

Or, Loki knows, when she’s about to deliver him bad news.

He clears his throat. “He said he was me. And that something big was happening”. There. “And then he said he was sorry”.

Jane studies his face.

“That he was sorry? For what?”

“He didn’t say. He stepped through the door”.

Jane is quiet and now it’s Loki’s turn to try and read her expression.

“What did he say to you? I assume he pretended to be me …?”

Jane holds up a hand and bites her lip. Loki swallows.

“Loki, when we were staying at the flat in London, after we defeated Malekith…”

“What?” Loki furrows his brow in confusion. “Why are we-“

“The poison from the monster’s blade, it had you slipping in and out of consciousness for days. You were so feverish…”

“Yes, I know. I was there”. Loki’s blood is slowly turning very cold, but he musters a smile. “And you were amazing, love. Although some might say you took adv-“

Jane interrupts him in the middle of his blossoming smirk. A slight blush appears on her own cheeks.

“Yes, um, it’s not about that day”. She gives him a stern look. “The other day, later, when Thor left after you two went and had your, um, talk … there’s something I need to tell you …”

The door to the living room opens behind them.

“Actually, if you don’t mind, Doctor Foster, I would very much like to hear this too”.

Stephen Strange steps into the kitchen. The door closes behind him.

Part 6

#loki #loki series #lokane #tva loki #loki fanfic #loki ff #lokane ff #lokane fanfic #loki x jane #jane foster #shine a light #plainlo inthemorning #doctor strange #stephen strange #tony stark

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