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kindestegg · 1 year

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In my previous posts, I have spoken about Collector's good side quite a lot, their eagerness to learn from their environment, their ability to grow when around good influences, the growth they have shown around King, their love for titans and their compelling backstory... and have as well touched upon their flaws and their darker side.

But I feel like I am lacking in an exploration of their darker side in its own dedicated post like I have done for their growth and good side. And I feel like such a post is way overdue because recently I have seen a pretty concerning uptick in the sentiment that Collector "never meant to hurt anyone", that they don't know what killing is and that they were overall an unwitting pawn in Belos' plan. And that is... simply not the truth? There are several instances in canon that contradict this and I would like to dive into them in this post.

Let's start with a pretty controversial scene: the capturing of the Owl Beast. Now, there's a lot of people who have associated the fact that there are multiple collectors and that the collector in the Owl Beast's dream sequence appears bigger and has a different outfit to indicate that the collector that captured the Owl Beast is a different one.

Now, while I admit that that is a possibility, I would like to at the very least make some arguments for the fact that this could still be our Collector, and why that matters.

Let's start by the most glaring issue: the voice. The collector that captured the Owl Beast has the exact same voice actress, exactly the same voice as our Collector, and is in the credits as "the Collector". It is very hard to argue with that: even if we go with the theory that then all collectors must sound the same, that is an incredibly big stretch that has no real backing in canon aside from an assumption to try and explain away this clash.

Another argument often seen is that the collector seen here "sounds different" from our Collector as in their line delivery is different, as if the sadism in their voice and laughter would be enough to imply being a completely different person and uhhh...

Do you guys... also think that about the Collector in the Hollow Mind scene that properly introduced them? Because they sounded... kind of like that. But I'll touch on that soon. Back to the Owl Beast dream for now.

Another argument I have seen is that this collectors outfit is different and they are too tall/big to be our Collector... which once again I need to remind you of this?

This is a scene in which our Collector undoubtedly shows he can change sizes (becoming big enough to nearly fill up the entire room he is in, towering above everything) and the cape he's in is clearly different from his usual outfit.

And the ability that collectors have to change size is backed by the paintings in the archive halls: when in space they can be bigger than whole planets, even our Collector who is younger being nearly the same size as the planet, but when they actually go to the planet they adjust their size to the creatures on it, such as the trappers or in Collector's case, the titan babies.

There is also the matter of the Owl Beast clearly remembering the Collector and having a reaction even during the DOU to just the disc itself cracking, and later becoming frenzied when seeing him face to face. Sure, the Owl Beast could just felt threatened by any Collector, but... doesn't it make more narrative sense and have more significance that it's this Collector that it specifically has problems with? That was a REALLY strong reaction to just be a generalization.

Anyway, I briefly mentioned how Collector talks in Hollow Mind, and I feel like it really bears to examine it again and remind ourselves of it, not let it be forgotten just because he's recently been nice. As I said before, Collector is canonically someone who can be pretty sadistic and find something funny about suffering.

But... even this is something that the fandom has been trying to smooth away the edges of. I've encountered some people who, despite I'm sure just being well meaning fans of the character who want to offer a new perspective, inevitably attempt to defang him and imply that he did not know the draining spell would hurt or kill people, that the screams he imitated were something he wasn't aware was bad, and even that this extends to how Collector interpreted Belos and the grimwalkers. Essentially, through a lot of stretching and attempting to re-interpret the Hollow Mind scenes, Collector's being slowly made into a naive child who was being led around by Belos to commit crimes while somehow never learning anything from context clues.

This is essentially problematic because I feel like it misses the point of Collector's character and metanarrative purpose and turns them into something they are not. But I'll be getting to that around the end of this post. For now, rather than just going "you're wrong and that's it" (which would be rude to do!) I will try to, as kindly as possible, explain my reasoning as to why these interpretations feel like they are misreading the material.

Examining then, their behavior in Hollow Mind. Here is why I believe that they are aware of what the Draining Spell does:

First off, they mention that they and Belos will have revenge when reciting the second half of their poem. Why would they consider the Day of Unity a kind of revenge for both of them if they didn't know it would hurt people?

Similarly, the imagery they portray when talking about what the spell does definitely implies that they know the draining spell would at least affect people negatively, as they portray them blowing away into dust as well as having the sigils affect their bodies and similarly make them turn to nothing.

I know this happens rather in King's Tide, but it's something I want to use to reinforce my point: In King's Tide, Collector makes a point to say they gave Belos the draining spell, they taught him magic stronger than anybody's. I highly doubt Collector would teach Belos a spell that he didn't know the consequences of, specially considering his freedom was riding on this spell working, and Belos made sure to remind him of that every time.

Also to drive home the point he knows screams mean something bad, before Collector imitates Belos screaming and presumably lashing out at Hunter, he says that Belos was mad. So at the very least he knows that you can scream in anger.

I feel like people tend to get caught up in the fact Collector says it's like the world is singing when talking about his happiness and King snarkily responds that he wouldn't call people screaming singing. I can see how that could be interpreted as if Collector doesn't know screams are bad... but with the previous knowledge we have of this character, that makes hard to justify, and I'd like to call attention to the fact Collector never states he was talking about the people, King just uses the opportunity to point out people are screaming, and then lead onto how he should stop "freaking everyone out".

So, yes, Collector knew about the Draining Spell and all that it would entail, he likely even tailored it for Belos, and he also knows what Grimwalkers are in a sense and what is being done to them.

At the very least... he knows grimwalkers can be made, what they are called, and also insinuates they are to be played with, but is intrigued by the fact Belos keeps making them and then destroying them. We can clearly see that one of Collector's biggest flaws is his problem with rationalizing the environment around him, since he views things by what is most fun to do, he imagines putting all this effort into building something and tearing it down must be fun... ignoring that these are real people Belos is building, abusing and then killing.

In general, though, this ties to the running theme of Collector viewing anyone they haven't gotten to know and befriended with extreme disinterest. While they would prefer not to kill or hurt anyone, if the situation really calls for it as a means to an end, they will do so. There is no incentive for them to care for the grimwalkers and view them as people... so they do not. Their current only friend acts as if it's natural, so they act accordingly. King tells them they need lots of players for a game of pretend? That's easy then, just make everyone into puppets, and you don't have to worry about them as people. Dehumanization is perhaps the key word here, which ties into their themes also of bulldozing the environment and culture of the Isles, as well as their harmful escapism, refusing to see things for what they are and trying to only focus on having fun and feeling good.

I feel like it is important to establish and argue for this because many people forget that Collector's character isn't just meant to be a fully sadistic selfish villain or a genuine and kind naive child. What makes the Collector so great and interesting is that he is both those things, those parts of him mix up and dance around to create a character that fits in the narrative as a foil and parallel to multiple characters, as well as provoke interesting ethical questions to us, such as:

If a child is given the opportunity to hurt animals and people and does so, playing roughly with them and traumatizing them, what is the course of action to follow from there? Imprison them? Hurt them? Punish them in some other way? Where is the root of this child's destructive and harmful behavior? Why are they acting this way? What do they have to say about their actions?

And we do know the root: For the Future makes it a point to let us know of their backstory, that they were raised into a society that believed coming in and taking whatever they wanted was natural and anything in their way deserved their wrath. And that even if he did reject this notion in part, he cannot shake off entirely the influence this has had on him, causing him to find extreme acts of violence as a means to an end natural as well as to not consider how his altering of the landscape and culture of the Isles enacts cultural violence upon them.

The true tragedy of Collector is that they are a child that wants to learn and do good, and ultimately wants nothing more than to be free, to play, and to have friends, but because of the circumstances around them, what they were taught to believe in and the psychological torture they were subjected to inside the prison, and the fact Belos was the one person they had contact for the last four hundred years or so... they inevitably became also incredibly accustomed to violence, to taking what they want by force, to justifying as many corpses piling up as necessary to get what they want. They're terrifying, they're horrible, they're sad, they're tragic, they're genuine, they're willing to learn, they have so much potential, they are multifaceted and that is what makes them an interesting character, bad things and good things alike.

#the owl house #toh analysis #toh theory #the collector #toh collector #commander's orders #blinks cutely. hiiii. i finally wrote this. yay! the other poll winner is done!

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homunculus-argument · 2 years

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Things from The Book That Keeps Being Unfinished:

The protagonist has heterochromia and he is wanted for high treason. These two things are entirely unrelated, and the whole treason thing was actually one of the rare times when he didn't actually do the thing that got him into trouble. Either way, having one bright blue eye while living in a land where lighter eye colours are rare, and where everyone knows that the famous traitor baron has an "evil eye" paints a huge target on his back, so he has to get creative with disguises.

One time he is re-united with an old friend, and a new friend that the old friend picked up somewhere. He goes out with them while disguised as a Priest of Truth, member of a prominent religious organisation whose robes include a veil that covers the entire face. The protagonist explains that everyone's looking for a man trying to hide his left eye, so covering his whole face actually attracts less attention.

Someone calls them to halt, and all three (who actually all have a bounty on their heads, as the two others just deserted from the military) internally shit themselves as they see that the man who told them to stop is a city guard.

But instead of being suspicious of the three - two out of whom match the descriptions of two recent military runaways, and one has his whole face covered - the watchman looks sad. Big fucking guy with a scar across his face and a spear in his hands, and he looks genuinely upset and frightened.

He asks the protagonist, has the world truly gotten so bad, that a Priest of Truth, famously nonviolent, unarmed and defenseless, docile man of faith, would be forced to hire two armed thugs for protection?

While the deserters are too baffled to react, the protagonist steps up and starts talking, agreeing that times are uncertain and people turn to desperate crimes when they can't see any other way to survive - another Brother was robbed on the street recently, in broad daylight - but as much as today is suffering, it must also pass once it has run its course. In hard times, there is no choice but to keep a noble heart, and hope to live through them.

The guard agrees, he had also heard of the incident of a priest robbed at knifepoint, but he had not wanted to believe it was true. He is grateful of these words of consolation, and gladly accepts a priest's blessing before carrying on his work.

Once he is gone, the protagonist's friend regains his ability to speak. He just witnessed this fucking guy, whom he has known since they were like seven - who isn't just a compulsive liar but famous in their home town for telling the wildest bullshit stories, the guy who lies so much that not only does literally nobody actually seem to know what his real name and identity is, but actually seems to have personally lost track of which one of them was really him - fluently fucking impersonate a holy man who has dedicated his life to the sacred philosophy of truth and honesty, fooling someone who knows and deeply honours these holy men, and give a false blessing to him. The old friend remarks, somewhat paraphrased:

"Dude. I think you're gonna go to Hell."

The other friend, who lacks the context of what a clown show the protagonist is, is also deeply confused. Why the hell would anyone rob a Priest of Truth? Don't they swear an oath of poverty, they literally don't own or carry anything of value. What the hell would someone even take from one of them?

The protagonist shrugs, casually fixing the veil of the priest costume. Both of the runaways put two and two together.

#the old friend is also the husband from the Cat Meat Story

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knyplotrewrite · 2 years

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my thoughts on canon Douma

(will have manga spoilers!)

Douma is one of those guys I feel like a lot of people misunderstand. And to be honest, I don’t fault either the people for not looking deeply enough nor Gotouge for writing him “weirdly,” he’s written just fine, but he’s genuinely so different and uncanny that it’s hard to nail his character down. He’s not someone you’re really supposed to relate to, where his lack of humanity is his core characteristic and the most intriguing parts of his character is just how distanced he is from the concept of having personhood.

This being said, he kinda suffers from the same problems as Muzan where the fact that he’s placed in a story full of fighting and action did him a huge disservice. Any interesting mentalities or thought processes he could have sparked are overshadowed by blood and gore and flashy colors.

He’s also not given nearly enough time to properly establish his role as an influential, scarily competent cult leader. In the narrative, he’s painted as this positive, airheaded guy who’s a little fucked up sometimes, which completely skips over exploring how he acts in front of his followers, or just people he generally wants to keep up appearances for. Does he act more mature? Does he try to fit the image of the savior in his followers’ minds? Does he not try to change his persona at all? What does he actually say? What does he actually do? You might point out that Kotoha shows an example of how he treats followers, maybe a little warmly, maybe with a little pity, but the fact most of her story was revealed through exposition and through his POV alone can give him grounds to skew it in order to fit his own philosophies (and we already know he’s a bit of an unreliable narrator so).

The above point is definitely a problem that could have been fixed had he had a whole arc dedicated to himself while in his Savior persona, with more people to tell Kotoha’s story in a different point of view, but I digress.

I do think his role serving as a foil to Shinobu, Kanao, and Inosuke was nicely executed. But, it did feel half baked since it was all shoved into the Infinity Fortress arc with barely any build up. Well, hmm, Shinobu is fine? It’s Kanao and Inosuke I have more issues with, which I’ll explain more in their specific analysis posts.

(Ooh, I kinda want to touch on the discussion on if Douma is misogynistic or not, but I’m not sure if people would be more interested in me just analyzing the canon content alone and giving a solid yes or no answer, or if they want to hear my personal interpretation which can branch from canon quite a bit. In any case, it’ll be its own separate post.)

@lavender-rosa

also @keniaku bc its your babygirl

#douma #kny #kny meta #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #kny manga spoilers #cult mention

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maya-matlin · 8 months

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Hi Ashton, I love your blog and wanted to ask whether there are any ships that you WANTED to like and objectively know are good couples but which you just can't muster any actual feelings for? For me it's Brulian. Like objectively they're great at least starting in s8 when they suddenly rewrote Julian's whole personality and I love that Brooke found happiness. BUT they just don't spark anything for me when I see them on screen, their chemistry is meh, their connection feels forced, and what is with Julian's ongoing obsession with Brooke's high school life and the fact that she was "popular" even when they're in their mid to upper 20s lol! Another one is Steroline. Friends to lovers, personalities that should perfectly complement each other and so on, but in reality they were so flat, and the acting and writing never sold me on them being anywhere close to in love. And the biggest one: Joey/Pacey. Everyone I know adores them and I wanted to ship them, but they just go overboard with the nonstop bickering to the point where they almost never seem truly compatible to me, Joey keeps choosing other guys over Pacey for the final two seasons - even that Eddie guy and then some rando from NY - and I just always feel like there's this imbalance where about 90% of the time Pacey is a lot more into Joey than she's into him? Anyway those are my confessions re solid ships I wanted to love but just don't give me any real feels. I would love to hear yours!

Hi! 💜 Thank you so much!

So to begin with, I definitely agree about Brulian. Their relationship is fine and relatively healthy, but I find it impossible to care about their romantic relationship. It's almost unfair that I compare them to Brucas because objectively, Brooke's relationship with Julian had a much stronger foundation and he treated her better than Lucas ever did. I mean, Julian was in a much better place by the time they became a couple and didn't have Lucas's baggage. But at the same time, so much time was dedicated to Brooke's reaction to her first love betraying her with her best friend to the point she spent years avoiding love. Even when she seemed to think she'd found it such as when she dated Chase, eventually Brooke was forced to realize that it wasn't the real thing and likely just a rebound. I guess I wanted more from their relationship? The chemistry was fine, but nothing special. They lacked the rawness of Brooke and Lucas. Sometimes, chemistry isn't everything. But when the story is nothing special and it's so late into the series AND the chemistry isn't grabbing you, this leads to a situation where it's difficult to root for the pairing even when you want to. But yeah, Julian clearly had some insecurities regarding the fact he was the high school geek and romanticized the idea of Brooke and co's high school experience. Because obviously, nothing could ever be better than growing up in a small, southern, most definitely conservative town where its mayor murdered his own brother.

I can't speak for Stefan/Caroline yet because I've still only seen the first season of the show, but I understand why you feel that way. I've seen that sentiment expressed before. On paper, they're my type of ship, so I'm curious how I'll respond to their romantic relationship. Because so far, I'm really enjoying Stefan's relationship with Elena and hating the inevitable Elena/Damon thing.

Yeah.. I can't agree with your Pacey/Joey opinion at all. But I will say that Joey really suffered writing wise because she needed to be a possible love interest to both Dawson and Pacey. So Joey needed to appear as though she loved Pacey and was committed to him. But at the same time, there needed to be enough doubt and ambiguity that whenever the writers were ready, they could pull the plug and act like it was always Dawson for Joey. Which is basically what happened for like a season. As a result, Pacey appears more into Joey because he had no reason to be conflicted in universe. IDK. I promise I'm not trying to change your opinion. Just trying to discuss what I think went wrong LOL. Anyways, I'm sorry you weren't able to invest in their relationship!

I think my actual answers are likely to be a disappointment, but I'll try.

Fiona/Imogen (Degrassi): Maybe it's because I wasn't super into Fiona's story lines during this time. Maybe I just struggled to care about any relationship that wasn't Zig and Maya's in season 12. But for some reason, I never cared about these two. I acknowledge they were sweet and overall healthy. If I was watching for the first time now, I'd probably be on board. But because I already know how their story line plays out, there's no excitement for me? So I don't see my opinion on their relationship ever changing.

Dallas/Alli (Degrassi): I blame my disinterest on the fact Alli went from boyfriend to boyfriend for multiple seasons. The writers' favorite pastime was luring Alli into a false sense of security before her latest relationship blew up in some brutal fashion. Dallas was boyfriend #5, right after Alli's abusive (brief) husband. It's obvious to me Dallas was truly in love with Alli and treated her the best out of all of her boyfriends, but I never bought it on Alli's end. I feel like Alli settled for Dallas after her marriage came to a shocking, traumatizing end and entered a relationship with him while she was still healing from that. Besides, I think this story line was done even better with Dave, someone I actually believed Alli loved, following her first two terrible relationships. The writers not so subtly traded one, black main character for another and pushed Dave out of the show the minute Dallas gained prominence.

Clay/Quinn (OTH): Overall, the later seasons weren't as well written as the early ones. I feel like there was a certain pressure to immediately establish Clay and Quinn as the couple to root for. Before we were familiar with their individual characters, they were being shoved into scenes together, confiding in each other over Clay's dead wife and Quinn's failed marriage. It didn't work for me? I mean, I felt more watching the flashbacks to Clay and Sara's romance than I ever felt with Clay and Quinn in three seasons. They were fine. It's nice they made each other happy, and they were a cute family with Logan. But I was indifferent to the relationship itself.

Tim/Lyla (Friday Night Lights): To be fair, I've only seen this show once. Everything indicates they'd be a couple I'd like. The chemistry was there. It's hard not to invest in the "guy falls for his best friend's girlfriend/ex" story line unless it's Archie and Betty. The actors were gorgeous together. Tim brought out a more fun, lighter side to Lyla. But I couldn't bring myself to care about them, and I'm not sure why. Something didn't feel right.

#Anonymous #Long post #I honestly couldn't think of any more so I apologize

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flameaccord · 2 years

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Below you will find an overview of the old myths of the Legendary Homunculi of Amestris. Whether one chooses to believe in the factual nature of this is up to them, and you will be hard pressed to even find a born and raised citizen of the region that does so. Really, you will have difficulty finding one that’s heard of them at all, or wishes to admit that they have.

Ouroboros, the one responsible for the creation of the rest. Comparisons can and have been drawn to Arceus, “The Original One,” of Sinnohan mythology. Though like much in Amestris, its color palette and the story surrounding it are much darker than has come to be expected.

Type: Normal Special move: Conviction Other names: Father of the Homunculi

Emissa, who is said to know what you seek before even you do yourself. It can offer whatever it is that you want, or show the path to achieving this goal. But it will always come at a terrible price, and you may not be willing to let it enact that toll. Take caution, as well, for if it agrees to help . . . consider what it may be getting out of the deal, for it will never offer a helping hand just from the goodness of its heart.

Type: Dark / Psychic Special move: Ultimate Spear Other names: The embodiment of the sin of Lust* *this presents itself most often in the form of bloodlust, a wicked streak of violence plaguing wherever it wanders. As well as its tendencies to draw out what it is that its victims are looking for, and using that to further its own goals.

Voraci, a being of never-ending hunger. While it may appear docile much of the time, it is easily prone to fits of frenzy, where it will attempt to eat anything (or anyone) that crosses its path. Despite these tendencies, it has been noted to be one of the kindest of the Homunculi, showing little of the disdain that its siblings do for humanity. It considers itself close to the rest of its kind, and has been known to ask them for permission before going on its ravenous rampages. It has even spared lives, in the past, at the very request of its would-be victims. There is never a guarantee, but it is worth the attempt, should you come across it.

Comparisons can and have been drawn to Snorlax, “The Sleeping Pokémon.” It is unknown what the connection is, or if this legend is simply a mistake on the Amestrians part, having been unfamiliar with Snorlax from its lack of appearance in their own region. It has been suggested that Voraci may simply be a variant, but more research is necessary.

Type: Dark / Normal Special move: World Eater Other names: The embodiment of the sin of Gluttony

Instiga, said to have two highly different forms depending on the level of its power. On the left is its weaker, default state, and on the right is when it is completed. The primary motivation of this creature is to cause problems wherever possible and make humans and pokémon alike fight amongst themselves. Wars have broken out by Instiga’s ministrations, and this is something that it has never had regrets about. It lives to take joy in the suffering of others, and will freely continue to sew that discord whenever the opportunity arises.

At its core, it is jealous of the relationships that mortals are known to share with each other, and the inner strength that they possess. The Homunculi do not show each other such care and dedication, they do not tend to display much in the way of emotional connection at all. It is this fact that drives the serpentine beast to enact a more personal vendetta than the rest, hating and mistreating them far more than any of its siblings ever could.

Type: Dark / Bug Special move: Discordant Other names: The embodiment of the sin of Envy

Avarishi, a dragon through and through. It desires nothing more than to accumulate everything that it can, whether that be wealth, allies, and anything else to allow it to live in the lap of luxury. It is the only one of the Homunculi to not wish to associate with their Father, or even the rest of its siblings, and instead strike out on an entirely solitary path. Openly defiant, Avarishi only knows and does what it personally wishes to, though it’s been noted to have a surprisingly caring nature. Anyone that finds themselves as a subordinate or other associate may be surprised to discover that, though it does insist that this is merely because people are possessions as well, and breaking them is breaking what belongs to it.

Type: Dark / Dragon Special move: Ultimate Shield Other names: The embodiment of the sin of Greed

Daisical, the one who lurks far below the surface of this world. It spends its days traversing the terrain, on a mission that even it does not know nor care for the full extent of. It does not have strong feelings one way or the other about humanity, and instead carries on with a simple drive to do what it has been told. Whether these are the orders of its Father, or anyone else that’s managed to claim the mantle of master, Daisical will diligently work until the job is done. It will work and work and work, for the simple promise of rest at the end of the line.

Rumor has it that its duties have indeed come to an end, and now it simply slumbers, enjoying the rest while it still can. Awaiting the day that it is awoken again, and dreading the very possibility.

Type: Dark / Ground Special move: Drums in the Deep Other names: The embodiment of the sin of Sloth

Ultimeye, the watcher in the water. This one is said to lurk in the shadows of the swamplands, though there are conflicting accounts as to its nature. Some say that it is quite kind, sympathetic to those who have found their way out to it (usually far more turned around than they would like to admit). Compassionate, in spite of the vice that it is meant to represent most, and displaying quite the mischievous streak.

However, when angered, it is more than clear what it embodies. Ultimeye is downright vicious when it wishes to be, often shaking from restraint as it attempts to contain itself. Brutal in attacks, an ill encounter with it is not something that will likely be survived. One must endeavor to impress it if they are not immediately eviscerated, and even still, the last words they are likely to hear are the taunts of this foe and condemnation for being so disappointing.

Type: Dark / Grass Special move: Ultimate Eye Other names: The embodiment of the sin of Wrath

Imperius, the smallest of the Homunculi, but do not let that fool you. Whatever you do, be sure to exercise caution around this one, and do not ever for a second underestimate it. It appears unassuming in its default form, as shown on the left. An innocent spirit, one that enjoys its playthings, taking great joy in pulling all manner of creatures into its games. Should one find themselves included, however, they are much more likely to catch a glimpse of the form that it reverts to when it feels no need to hide.

It is selfish and incredibly self-absorbed, placing itself far above that of every mortal and even its own siblings. There is nothing in this world that is mightier or stronger than Imperius, save for their Father, from which it takes great pride in having been a part of. Brutal and cruel, it delights in taunting its opponents at every opportunity, never believing that they could ever come close to being a match.

If even the rest of its kind cannot defeat it, well, what hope does anyone else think they have?

Type: Dark / Ghost Special move: Kneel to the Crown Other names: The embodiment of the sin of Pride

#🔥 ; ˡᵉᵍᵉᶰᵈᵃʳʸ ʰᵒᵐᵘᶰᶜᵘˡᶤ (.Amestris lore building)

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crazygalore · 3 years

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GABRIEL MAY (MALIGNANT) NSFW ALPHABET

TW: mentions of dysmorphia, NSFW

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Surprisingly, Gabriel actually NEEDS it, after each lovemaking session - no matter how gentle or how rough he was with you. He’ll draw the both of you a hot bath, and help you wash yourself. If you return the favour, this boy will positively melt, and let out tiny noises that sound suspiciously similar to little purrs. Afterwards, once he has patted your dry with a fluffy towel and dressed you in your favourite pyjamas, Gabriel will carry you to bed, and place you under the covers. Then, he will bring your favourite snacks and beverage, to enjoy while you huddle together to watch a movie before falling asleep.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Gabriel could never pick just one thing he loves about you - because he practically worships you body and soul. You are infinitely beautiful in his eyes, and the fact that you love and accept him for who he is feels like a miracle to him.

Since he doesn’t actually have a body of his own, he expresses his identity though clothes that he wears, which are different than the ones owned by Madison. Although they’re not body parts per say, he sees his leather coat and makeshift gold dagger as extensions of himself, and he enjoys donning them whenever he takes over his twin’s body. He will, sometimes, remain fully clothed during sex.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

His pleasure is your pleasure, and he will make you cum as much as possible, if only to enjoy your desperate moans and whimpers.

Being transmasc and trapped his Madison’s body, he suffers from severe dysmorphia and doesn’t really enjoy being touched intimately. And, as stated HERE, he did communicate with his sister when the two of you decided to become intimate, because he felt like this specific situation called for his sister’s consent. She doesn’t have access to his memories regarding his sex life, though - which is for the best.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

It’s not a secret that he loves watching you pleasure yourself. The first time he witnessed it, you weren’t aware he was there, lost as you were in the act, so he quietly enjoyed the show from the door, a smug smirk playing at the corners of his mangled mouth.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

You are Gabriel’s first and only love, and the only person who ever saw him as a human being, worth of respect and adoration. So he doesn’t have that much experience, but he did his research and tried to learn as much as possible about the human body’s erogenous spots. That makes up for his lack of actual physical experience, at least most of the times. But since your guys’ relationship is based on trust, respect and communication, Gabriel is never ashamed to ask what works for you, and what doesn’t.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

Missionary, since he usually uses his mouth, fingers or a strap-on to pleasure you - and he wants to be able to look at your face, kiss your lips and hold you in his arms during sex. Gabriel is a very tactile person, and extremely touch-starved, so he actually NEEDS to be held, caressed and comforted. It’s the main reason why he enjoys making love to you so much, because the physical intimacy is something he’d never experienced before.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

I wouldn’t say he’s particularly goofy, but he isn’t very stoic either. If anything awkward ensures during sex, he will try to make you laugh about it, so that you can relax and move on.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

He doesn’t actually have a private area of his own, and its pretty much Madison’s business as to how she grooms her nether region. He doesn’t actually care about those parts, since he never uses them.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

Very intimate, very romantic and very needy. As stated above, he craves physical contact, and he melts whenever you treat him with gentleness and affection. Hold him, kiss him, caress his scarred cheeks, and tell him how good he makes you feel, and Gabriel will be putty in your hands.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

He doesn’t actually partake in this act, as he doesn’t enjoy looking at, or touching the private parts of the body he shares with his sister. But sometimes, he fantasizes about what he would do to you, if he had a body of his own.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Gabriel is surprisingly vanilla, but he can be pretty dominant in the bedroom. He will pin your wrists above your head, as he fucks you into the mattress, or guide you into touching yourself, his voice a mere growl coming from your phone’s speaker. Knife kink, maybe, but only when it comes to cutting off your clothes. He doesn’t wanna hurt you, so unless you insistently ask him to, Gabriel won’t hold his makeshift dagger to your throat, or drag its blade across your skin. After all, he has other ways to let out his violent frustrations, so he feels no need to bring that to the bedroom. He was hurt by people who abhorred him, and he returned the favour years later. Love and violence do not cross paths in Gabriel’s mind.

Also clothed sex, because he enjoys wearing his leather coat and gloves, as he teases your naked body mercilessly.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

Anywhere inside the house, but the bedroom is his favourite, because it’s more private and safe. Plus, he enjoys taking his time, so the bed is the most comfortable option when it comes to lengthy lovemaking sessions.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Whenever you treat Gabriel with kindness and love, he will feel the need to bring you pleasure, and show you just how much he covets you. For him, sex is a means of expressing his affection for you - it’s an act of adoration and gratitude.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He will NOT hurt you, ever, no matter how much you insist. You are the only person who has ever treated him right, and he cannot bear the thought of harming you in any way.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

Enjoys giving, and is very enthusiastic about it. This boy will eat you out for hours, and has become fucking expert at it. He knows just how to angle his face, and use his teeth and tongue to cause you maximum pleasure. Your taste is heaven to him, and your needy moans and whimpers are music to his ears. He will edge you, he will overstimulate you, he will play your body like a violin, using his mouth and fingers alone.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Depends on the mood. Slow and sensual is his go to, but he can be rough if you ask him to. But regardless of the pace, Gabriel is ALWAYS very passionate, and completely dedicated to your pleasure. Also, this boy is inhumanly strong, so he may end up becoming rough without even realizing it - but in case it becomes too much, all you have to do is tell him, and Gabriel will apologise and treat you more gently.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

Not opposed to them, but he prefers taking his time.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

He’s willing to try anything, so long as it doesn’t cause you any actual harm. Hickeys and faint finger-shaped bruises happen a lot, since he doesn’t always calibrate his strength properly all the time.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

Oh, he could go on forever. Remember he experiences pleasure exclusively through you, so he never gets tired of it.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Oh, yes, 100% a fan of toys, all of them meant to drive you utterly insane with pleasure.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

The most unfair and maddeningly patient tease to ever walk this Earth. He will edge you until you’re crying and begging for release - and only then will he CONSIDER to maybe let you cum.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

Low growls and muffled moans are the best he can do - although he may use your phone’s speaker to talk dirty to you.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

Gabriel really enjoys sucking on and playing with your nipples. And, yes, he has actually made you cum by solely teasing and fondling your chest.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

As I said, he uses a strap-on, which is just the right length and thickness to bring you maximum pleasure. In fact, the more I think about it, the more inclined I am to believe he consulted with you before buying it.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

I would say his sex drive is medium to low, so unless you initiate it - case in which he will be delighted to take you to the bedroom - he will rarely bring it up. But he does have his moments, when he simply craves your passionate embrace.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

It depends. Sometimes he falls asleep as soon as aftercare has been performed, and sometimes he stays awake a little while longer, just to watch you sleep peacefully by his side.

#malignant #gabriel may #gabriel may x reader #malignant imagine #gabriel may imagine #malignant x reader #gabriel may headcanons #malignant headcanons #tw dysmorphia

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miraculouscontent · 3 years

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Alright, so apparently certain love square shippers felt the need to go into the Lukanette tag to celebrate/mock that Lukanette is “over” (Marinette broke up with him to keep him safe but go off I guess) and that officially crosses all my lines of not dealing with the fandom’s garbage.

The sheer pettiness is astounding to me, to take joy in the end of what was a lot of people’s comfort ship (people don’t choose comfort ships, by the way) because of “toxic Luka/Lukanette stans,” essentially lumping chunks of the fandom together and letting the opinion of those fans shape their own opinion on a character/ship. The sheer sensitivity on display to have so much spite and disdain for a ship that appeared in less than 10% of all episodes in the show. The sheer vindictiveness to feel smug and self-righteous while also being panicked over a non-endgame ship that’s as temporary as their claim of positivity and condemning of salt until they’re presented with something they don’t like.

Goliath really be beating up on David over here because he's bigger and thinks his opinion is more valid. For the record, no, opinions are not more valid due to shipping an endgame ship or presenting oneself as a beacon of positivity.

And it just goes to show how ship-blind these people are, to care about nothing more than the fact that Lukanette has broken up. I’m not exaggerating when I say that I’ve seen people who openly admit to caring more about the love square’s security than Marinette’s happiness, which is just part of the issue here.

These people did not care how Lukanette broke up, only that it happened. Marinette’s crush backpedaling (because of the show feeling the need to cater to these exact people, who are so worried about their obviously endgame ship being “in danger”) and Marinette ending the episode in literal tears because she wanted to date Luka but couldn’t are both things that didn’t matter to them because it’s all about their ship in the end. Marinette’s life has been made more and more miserable due to her crush on Adrien while straining her relationships with various characters (see: Alya’s claim of jealousy as a reason for why Marinette “must be lying” about Lila), but so long as these people feel secure in their endgame ship, that’s all that matters.

They didn’t care if it was a clean break where both sides came out satisfied (or at least content). If anything, they wanted Lukanette to end as shoddily/dirtily as possible with zero care into how it affected Marinette, whether because they just don’t like the ship or because they actively desire for the suffering of the people who found comfort/happiness in the ship. Adrien had literally nothing to do with the break-up itself and him being mentioned served nothing for the story, but it’ll be completely overlooked or outright praised because god forbid Marinette spend an episode not talking about Adrien since that would imply that her life doesn’t revolve around him and that would be an apparent detriment to the love square.

By the way, newsflash: Luka was not an obstacle to the love square. He sent Marinette away in “Frozer” to go talk to Adrien. He told her that there was no pressure and that he’d be happy for her no matter what. Had Luka not existed, the love square would still be as stagnant as it is now, and it’s pathetic to complain about Marinette liking/dating another boy when she’s not only allowed to do so, but when “Oblivio” and “Chat Blanc” both exist as little more than tools to hold the supposedly “starved” love square shippers over.

These are the same people who will say they dislike/hate Luka, then do a 180 and claim that they “just feel so bad for him” and how he “deserves better than Marinette” (the sudden sympathy of which conveniently serves to hate on a ship that interferes with their own, further proven by equally convenient and appreciation/liking of Luka when he’s not a “threat” to the love square) while simultaneously shipping her with their sunshine boy because Ladybug is who Adrien wants and what Adrien wants is what matters.

These are the same people who will say that Luka is unnecessary and unneeded, then use him as a prop and stepping stone for love square fanfics and fanart, or suggest that Kagami is fine because she makes Adrien feel good about himself (when Luka does the same for Marinette but sure).

These are the same people who say that “Marinette can’t date Luka because she’s busy with hero stuff” while making fics about the love square getting together mid-”hero stuff” and then giving complete radio silence during “Chat Blanc” outside of how good they thought the episode was.

These are the same people who will tell others not to denounce Adrien for “a few mistakes” and then preemptively denounce Luka’s behavior based on a written synopsis for an episode that hadn’t even come out yet (and also after complaining that Luka was “too perfect,” I might add).

These are the same people who will say that Luka/Lukanette makes them feel “uncomfortable” (usually without offering any tangible reasons or being vague about Luka giving off “bad vibes” when he’s done nothing less than support and respect Marinette's agency) while the show’s endgame ship features the “m’lady” hand kissing Chat Noir who Ladybug has pulled away from multiple times yet he keeps persisting (which is apparently considered okay because Adrien is Chat Noir as if that discredits her discomfort/disdain for the gestures).

These are the same people who will say that Luka is “barely there” or “hardly exists” and then complain about how much screentime is dedicated to Lukanette, the utter greed on display going right over their heads when they have the actual endgame ship.

These are the same people who will absolutely reach for anything about Luka to complain about (again, after saying that he’s “too perfect,” then claiming he “tricked” Marinette into kissing him, claiming that he tried to force her into telling him her secret, or criticizing him for teasing her for her stuttering despite him immediately apologizing) and then either defend or turn a blind eye to Chat Noir (who tried to kiss her mid-battle instead of helping, made Ladybug feel bad for keeping secrets that weren’t hers to tell plus threatening his kwami that he’d quit if he didn’t get let in on said secrets, and mocked her instead of apologizing when she told him to stop calling her by a nickname she doesn’t like and has told him before to stop calling her) at every opportunity.

These are the same people who will say that Lukanette is “forced,” then proceed to ship Luka (regardless of if they like him or not) with literally anyone else for the sake of taking him out of the romance equation (because he has to be taken out via already dating as they couldn’t come up with a legitimate reason for Marinette to not want him otherwise), and the only requirement for this person he’s shipped with is that they breathe and aren’t Marinette.

These are the same people who act bothered by Marinette “””treating Luka poorly””” because of her crush on Adrien (by the by, Adrien’s crush on Ladybug has hurt Kagami as well), inadvertently admitting that Marinette’s crush is a problem, then continue shipping her with Adrien in its canon form anyway.

These are the same people who will say that they hate salt fics (specifically ones that target Adrien) and how they “bash characters,” then write fanfics or draw fanart that intentionally make Luka out of character for the sake of having him look bad or giving Marinette an excuse to run to Adrien (because Luka apparently needs to be made worse so that Adrien can look good instead of Adrien being able to stand on his own merits as a good love interest for Marinette).

These are the same people who will slam Luka when he’s Marinette’s support, then go off and ship him with other characters so that he can support them instead (fun fact that this is usually either Adrien - thus leaving Marinette completely alone and miserable when Luka canonically likes her - or characters that Marinette is actively against, such as Chloe or Lila).

These are the same people who will complain about how salty the fandom is (even when the salt is for catharsis/getting out anger from an episode in a productive way) and then laugh when a simple side ship ends because they’ve been letting said ship live rent free in their heads and couldn’t stop anticipating the episode that declares them “over.”

These are the same people who tell or suggest that people should “just leave” if they don’t like the main ship, unapologetically implying that the main ship is either all the show is about, all that they personally care about (bringing us right back to that little “not caring how torn apart Marinette is about the break-up” thing), or that people aren’t allowed to watch/like the show for other reasons (like Marinette herself, the miraculouses, other characters who may appear intermittently but nevertheless bring them joy to see, etcetera).

These are the same people who get on other people’s case for being spiteful while they themselves ride their high horse into the sunset, playing victim when people call them out for intentionally provoking others or purposefully mistagging to avoid people’s blacklist (tagging is not for the comfort of the tagger so they can “””avoid the toxic stans,””” for the record; it’s for the comfort of the people who don’t want to see that content).

And these are the same people who will go on and on about the toxicity of the stans who ship something they don’t like and then either ignore or downplay the stans who ship what they do like because they personally don’t have to experience it. This isn’t even about ship wars, it’s about the hypocrisy and lack of self-awareness.

I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to hear about how cruel the Luka fans or Lukanette shippers are when these people are celebrating Marinette’s misery because it means the end of a ship that they don’t like and certain people find comfort in. I don’t want to hear about people cross-tagging/mistagging when the Luka/Lukanette tag has been flooded with people who talk trash about the ship without any additional tags to filter it away, getting so bad to the point where some Luka/Lukanette fans had to find workarounds and/or avoid the tag entirely. I don’t want to hear about how certain shippers are worse because [x] [y] [z] when everyone has different experiences, showing a severe case of close-mindedness or at least ignorance on these people’s parts.

And, with how this season is heading, if something bad happens to the love square by the end of Season 4, I most definitely do not want to hear these same people decry the people who will do the exact thing that they’re doing now.

#category: salt #category: fandom #category: long post #((Mind you--this doesn't apply ONLY to the people who cross-tagged to ''celebrate'' Lukanette ending or mock Luka/Lukanette))#((so... if the shoe fits.))#((I literally don't care if people want to salt.))#((I think the whole situation is gross but like--whatever.))#((But we shouldn't be forced to deal with it because salty clowns want to make sure the people they're salty over see it.))#((And I don't want to hear ''oh it'd be different if people cheered the love square getting a wedge driven in it because it's endgame!''))#((as if mockery is okay if done by endgame shippers.))

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yandere-wishes · 3 years

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Dr.Frankenstein

💀Yandere Idia Shroud x Reader

💀Summary: Idia wants to prove the world wrong. To show that there is more to life than good and bad, villains and heroes. But somewhere along the way, he falls in love with what he is trying to prove.

💀Warnings: Dead reader, delusional tendencies, gore,

💀Edited by my beloved Peri!! @tealyjade-libran

💀 Alternative title: Dr. Frankenstein falls in love with his monster.

Idia had known, from an all too young age that his heart was fashioned to be enraptured with misery and sympathy.

Once before, a few thousand eons ago, Idia had been a meager child, boyish, shy and happy with life. Sitting on his mother's lap, as her thinner than bone fingers ignited themselves on his scorching hair. He'd listen as her sunken lips recited story after story from forgotten books and dead myths. content, long ago he had known the feeling of contentment.

And yet said feeling had died so long before Idia even comprehended the narrative behind death. His joy at hearing tales about daring heroes and bewildering gods ran dry all too soon. He'd grown numb to the stories of good and evil, the same formula used over and over and over again. Good won, good prevailed; evil lost, evil vanished. It lacked logic and sense. The probability behind mindless heroes saving the day each and every time was astronomical. It couldn't happen. Yet the history of their world and his darling mother's tongue told a different tale.

-Not only could it be done, but rather it had been done on endless occasions.-

There had, however, been one story that stood out amongst the rotten batch. An anecdote that lacked morals and didn't defy a single law of nature. One would never think that a god born would find solace in a tale of a simple human trying to play god. The only story that sunk deep into his arteries like fragile needles, swimming through his blood before pricking manically at his heart. The only story mama told with faint nostalgia and a distant voice. The spiel of a scientist, whose mind was both his greatest ally and worst foe. A man who looked at the heavens with neither admiration nor hope. A mortal who wasn't satisfied with what good and bad had to offer. Dr. Frankenstein, whose one true desire was to do what gods did, to prove that he too could accomplish what the heavens claimed a miracle.

It was then and there among the pitch black of his parent's room that the oldest -no the only- son of the Shroud family proclaimed in a hoarse voice that cracked at each interval. That he too would be like Victor Frankenstein. That he too would live in a world of his own, a world with no room for good and evil. A world free of wretched stories that filled the minds of jovial children. And on that day, fate had the gall to listen to the claims of a brainless brat.

Even after countless millennia, Idia Shroud had not changed, he'd only grown into the role he forged for himself some centuries ago.

Yet nobody ever said it would be so hard to suffer the pain of a once maddening genius. The stories made it seem easy, made Frankenstein’s pain into pretty poetry that held only a fraction of the weight. Idia came to question time and time again, what it really was he was trying to suffer for. Why did he bestow upon himself the endless torment of alienation from a world that he too longed to be a part of?

Victor Frankenstein had something to prove, he longed to be a god in the most unclassic way. All the frenetic doctor wished was to shout at all mankind and the heavens above that he was the greatest. For in his suffrage he had discovered the antidote to what sets men apart from gods. That he, the overlooked boy, the forgotten pupil had -with solely his intellect- created life.

-Idia too desired to do just that. To scream at this fairy tale world that he, the cursed heir, the villain, the monster, was superior to every prince and hero in existence.-

Somewhere along the line, in the space between todays and tomorrows, he'd somehow lost the method behind the madness he had come to cage himself within. He lost purpose, lost hope, forgot why he'd declared to earth and Olympus that he too would be a genius akin to Dr. Frankenstein.

Idia didn't know what spark had flared his senses, what made him realize what it was he lacked from the hopeless doctor. He liked to think it had been the moment glacial fingers rinsed in fair blood and washed away gold and been stripped from his pale clammy hands. Phantom kisses had waltzed away from his burning cheek to float back into the spiral from which they had risen.

The dead marching back to the land of the deceased.

Leaving him to crawl back into the dark pits of his self-made hell.

Only this time, he'd understand why Frankenstein had dedicated his life to seclusion. Why he'd taken gulps of anguish, rather than air.

It was so painfully obvious, sitting in front of him on a golden throne this whole time. How in Hades' name had he been so blind? How had he forgotten?

Although admittedly his chagrin of forgetting far outweighed his elation of finally remembering. Frankenstein hadn't suffered for not, he had suffered to build, to create. His isolation wasn't of choice but rather out of necessity.

-The monster-

The Monster was Frankenstein's raison d'être, The final fruit of his endless labors. He had risked everything to build him and that's exactly what Idia would do too.

Victor Frankenstein had his monster.

Idia Shroud would have his monster.

It was on a dreary night that Idia beheld the accomplishment of his toils. anxiety burned through his fragile body, amounting ever so quickly to agony. Thoughts of do's and don't's flooded his body, pilling on top of each other like corpses after a genocide.

Inside the lights were just barely surviving, every few minutes they would flicker breathing in a final breath before a short death, only to be revived minutes later, spilling their artificial glow throughout the chamber. The room itself reeked of rotting flesh and something so sickly sweet, it almost made the dorm leader of the nearly deceased heave.

Idia's eyes remain static, seemingly stitched to the thing on the metal slab of a table. The body lays limp like a porcelain doll. No, not a doll, Idia thinks, like the monster, Frankenstein’s monster before it arose from its deathly slumber.

Outside A flash of lightning crackles through the night sky, rough sparks of electricity flow through the murky air. They jolt and dance before dying in the night's void.

After it, the world falls still, trapped behind the iron bars of an endless minute. The once meek god feels a surge dance through his core. The levity of his dreams prancing about. He's close, all so close. A breath away and it will be done. A minute away and all the world will see that there's never been any need for good and evil. Morals are merely prejudice beaten into every living thing, a simple way to keep mortals in their place and gods ruling above them.

The bloody needle in his hand slips through his leather-covered fingers, chimes as it hits the blood soaked ground. Idia's mind races through the odds and ends of everything. Through the fairy tale that is his life. He wonders, would they be proud of him? Would His darling dead brother whose soul now rests in a metal body, shut down and laid to rest in a forgotten corner, advocate what he's about to do? Would his mother's sickly lingula sing praise to him, retell the glory of her son's endeavors to the children of the accursed isle? Probably not, it's a bitter thought, but as true as they come. What parent or brother on this damn earth would be proud of their monster trying to fabricate an abomination? Who, in the millennia to come would look back on him and declare with pride that Idia Shroud had been a genius, one who stood above the heroes and villains and gods? Who would ever call him something better than a hero, better than a villain, better than a god?

In hindsight, Idia likes to think he always knew what he was doing. Always knew that he wanted the world to remember him as the one who broke the rhythm that the universe had been dancing to for endless years. To show this story-obsessed world, that good, and evil were merely perceptions of broken minds. Ideologies fabricated to justify meaningless actions.

Good could be bad.

Evil could be nice.

But science prevailed over all else.

Idia's knees quivered as he bends down by the table, his pale blue lips hovered above his creation's stitched-up forehead. He knew it was wrong, so, so wrong. But it couldn't be helped. For some ungodly reason, as the days ticked by and he began to sew together the bag of mismatched limbs. Idia had, in some way, come to love his creation. He wouldn't call it love per se. But he did long to hold his fragile creation in his arms. To kiss their reddened lips as their torn tongue invaded his mouth.

In the dead of night as he laid beside his still dead lover, no monster, not lover, not yet. He began to wonder, had Frankenstein fallen in love with his abomination somewhere along the road? Had fate once again played its silly little games and twisted their paths to forever meet? Did Victor Frankinstine ever wish to kiss his creation, to have them kiss him?

It may have been wrong. The storybook-bound people of this world may even call it evil. But it wouldn't be that way for long. Idia's fingers curled into his palm, the shards of his bitten-off nails dug deeper into his flesh. His chest tightened with a foreign sensation. A feeling that made cold sweat run down his thin neck.

Using what little strength he had left, Idia pushed himself off the ground and wobbled over to his mainframe machine. He braced himself on the heavy machinery trying to regain a semblance of his balance. He could do this, he had to do this.

His bony finger coiled around the silver leaver, the patched of rust bite into his skin. He held the power to defy everything. To make a new world. His golden pupils land on his fingers for a second. a faint memory of his mother slither back into his mind. It's murky and foggy but he remembers the way her boney fingers use to trail down his hair and arms and legs. How she traced ghosts and blood splatters on his chubby wrists, as she retold the story of the mad scientist. Comically enough she had been the reason why Idia had fabricated this self-induced prophecy and now he'd grown to be her spitting image. A carbon copy of the person who fueled his obsession with defying the laws of good and evil.

The leaver budged forward, clicking in protest as Idia pulled it lower and lower. Outside thunder boomed through the air, louder and louder. Maybe the ancient gods knew what he was doing. Maybe this storm was their warning to him. Yelling and shrinking to get him to stop. Threatening him to give up this game he had played for so long.

No.

Not this time.

Idia had operated by the book, he'd done everything like Victor Frankenstein. No ancient deity or prized warrior would be able to stop him. The gods' threats were the last part of his plan, all he needed was the lightning, the stray string of electricity. Then you would come alive. You'd be his to hold, to love, to cherish. To show to the whole damn mindless world.

A crackle shot through the air, twisting itself around the rod connected to the device and to an extension, you as well. It slated around the iron, like a wild tiger trapped in a cage. Squawking and fighting to free itself as it slid downwards. The moment it came in contact with the larger body of the machine, it roared, a deafening white noise that reverberated off the stone walls. It pierced Idia's ears, causing a thin line of blood to drool down the side of his head. The apparatus buzzed to life, bright lights filled the chamber and the wires attached to your corpse began to stir.

The once still carcass began to jerk violently, its head and arms and feet shaking, twisting in inelegant gruesome movements. Its torso would lift from the table only to crash down once more, with a force that surely fractured a few bones. Amid the madness, the mouth of the monster began to open, popping the loose stitches around the edge of her lips. Its long tongue darted out like a snake. And though it was mostly hushed by the hissing of the loose electric bolts and the harsh rain that had started to pour outside. Idia swore he heard her whisper his name.

The fire-haired boy ran across the room, tumbling to the side of the metal table. His large arms wrapped around your tiny ones. His eyes bore into yours. Watching as your inconsistent eyes stared into his. Your face was soft and tender, painted in an innocence only worn by young children. You were his now, his perfect creation. Something began to build inside of him, a forgotten feeling.

Contentment; this was contentment, something he hadn't felt for a long long time.

What are gods if not humans who possess a secret no one else could obtain? With you by his side, in his arms, Idia could finally, finally triumph overall. He had made life, he had defied all else, surely now everyone could see he was superior to all else in this make-believe world.

But the moment ended all too soon. Your eyes began to dull over, darkening with every blink until they shut permanently once more. The thumping of your borrowed heart began to slacken. Pounding slower and slower until it stilled. The patched up body came next, falling limp, dead again, floating back to the yonder of the grave. Out of his grasp, out of his life.

The world didn't stand still this time, instead, it scrambled forward at aching speed. No sooner had you taken your first breath had you taken your very last. You'd left without ever saying "hello".

Maybe in the midst of all the chaos, glorious altering chaos, he screamed, maybe he cried. Maybe it finally dawned on him why Dr. Frankenstein was merely a myth. A fable told to accursed children. Because Victor Frankenstein wasn't good or evil. He neither harbored joy nor malice. He wished only to be the best. And for so long Idia had wished the same. Searched for the same purpose in his meaningless life.

What is a scientist if not a harbinger of grief and pain?

Someone who devotes their life and loin, riddle and reason, in search of true purpose amongst the forces of the universe. What's a scientist if not a god in their own right.

Had he been a god just now, Idia was left to ponder. For two glorious, astonishing, baffling moments Idia had been better than any god in existence. He had prevailed where every hero had failed. He had accomplished what villains went mad trying to achieve. He had been victorious.

Yes, Idia Shroud had fulfilled his dream.

If only for a couple of inert moments.

Gods were merely that, humans who had created something from the very soil they too were made of.

And he too had done it.

But alas in the end, maybe the legends and the myths had been true, credible good always won and evil did always vanish. Barring you had been so young, so new, you didn't even comprehend good or evil, you hadn't been alive long enough to understand what those two defining forces even were. The world didn't yet know if you were even good or evil. But it matters all so very little because you were his creation, his monstrosity, his, and Idia Shroud had always been and would always be evil, a villain in his own right. Just another gear in the predominant forces of the universe.

He'd been a fool to think he could defy the structured narrative this world had come to accept as law.

Although, no narrative could ever change how much he had loved you, dead or alive. It wouldn't change how he had almost, almost, became Dr.Frankenstein.

Although at the final page just before he closed the book. In the back of his mind, Idia was sure he had become the doomed doctor.

For he too had both fallen in love with his creation and driven himself mad over it.

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland idia shroud #twisted wonderland idia shroud x reader #twisted wonderland yandere idia shroud #twisted wonderland idia shroud x you #idia shroud #idia shroud x reader #idia shroud x you #yandere idia shroud #yandere idia shroud x reader #yandere idia shroud x you #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere #yandere twisted wonderland #yancore #twisted wonderland x reader

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hoe-imaginess · 4 years

Text

baby socks | hawks

Hawks x Reader

summary: Hawks isn't ready to be a dad. He doesn't think he'll ever be—but now, he might need to rethink some things.

word count: 3.4k

a/n: short and montage-y. follows the idea that Hawks realistically isn’t looking to be a family man, but might be converted... for reasons

inspired by an idea from @gabb-yeet ty friend <3

⤰⤰⤰

After two long, stressful weeks, your concerns were no longer contestable. Two weeks during which you waited, and hoped, while your mind did manic rebounds between joy and fear.

A third week came and went without your period, and you knew then that there was no denying the truth growing inside of you.

A pregnancy test from the local drug store gave you final confirmation. The other two you took while riding a wave of denial reverberated the inescapable.

You were pregnant. You were pregnant with Hawks’s baby.

And you had no idea what to do.

⤰

His visits were rare, but thoroughly cherished.

You loved to be in his arms, to feel the supple caress of his feathers around you; tickling a warm, blissful exhilaration up your spine.

He loved your hands on him, and always esteemed their softness as you touched his temple or cupped his cheek, as though your gentle embrace extracted the day’s stress right from his skin.

Hawks could make you laugh as easily as anything. Your smiles came easy and organic—there was nothing more in the world he loved than to see your smile.

But now here you were, eyes hot with imminent tears as you showed him the pregnancy test, as he took a step away from you. He simply looked at you with bewilderment, then averted his gaze, somewhat shamefaced by his own shock.

“Wow,” he muttered, eyes and tone lacking any of the passion for this confession that you might have hoped for. “I… thought you were, ya know…” He gestured stiffly to his mouth, denoting your birth control, you guessed. “And we were careful–”

Hawks stopped then, noticing how swiftly the emotion drained from your face. He took a breath to dispel his confusions, and pushed his goggles up into his hairline so he could rub feeling into the bridge of his nose.

“Okay,” he started, like he was trying to wrangle his thoughts back in line. You saw his gloved hands fidget about, eager for orientation. “Um… Well, I wasn’t really… ready for this.”

“Well, neither was I,” you returned, hoping to convey to him that you were the equal of his wariness in this dilemma; you had no ambition to bestow obligations on him.

The proceeding silence took a substantial toll on your already crumbling poise. His gaze took an idling perusal of the ground, at the space between you two, unwilling to meet your eyes.

Then, as if a saving grace to his discomfort, the pager at his belt sounded off.

Your heart stung at the interruption. He sometimes had to make your time together short on account of duty, but surely he could spare a minute more to discuss this—something of this magnitude.

“I have to go,” he murmured, after reading the message on his pager. He was still reluctant to meet your eyes, but found a heartbreaking sadness in them when he did. He swallowed hard. “I’m… sorry.”

“Hawks,” you started, searching feverishly for the words that might keep him there with you. “I’m—We need to…”

“I know.” There was a flash of somber determination in his eyes, something that aspired to reassurance, but failed. “I’ll be back.”

His arm moved, almost as if to reach out and touch you. But he seemed to think better of doing so, and instead he moved to your window, and flew from it as he had a hundred times before.

Except this time, you watched him go not with an enthusiasm to see him again, but a despairing anxiety.

⤰

His return was a no less cumbersome affair.

Hawks sat on your couch, looked around the room with thorny cautiousness, as if he were in an unfamiliar environment, as if he no longer found peace in your presence like he once had.

“What do you want to do?” he asked, still partial to keeping his gaze lowered.

You’d sat down next to him on the couch, with a condemning distance between the two of you that made your chest tight with despair. You looked down at your feet, at the soft carpet beneath your toes, and curled them restlessly into the fluff.

“What do you mean?” you answered, even as you feared clarification.

“I mean… have you decided?”

Your head came up to look at him, a mounting trepidation quickening your pulse.

“Decided?” you repeated.

Realizing your apprehension, he perked up, and a flash of apology softened his eyes.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” His hands hovered to assuage you, and that tender, sweet look in his eyes that you’d so missed made itself known. “Listen, I just mean… you said you weren’t ready for this either, so I just thought you’d be thinking... I don’t know.”

“Do you…”

You trailed off. Was he really after a verdict? Was he asking not how you two might endure parenthood together, but rather, whether you two needed to at all?

Your mouth felt dry; you wet your lips anxiously. “I mean, are you asking me if I want to…?”

“It’s your choice,” he amended quickly, but uncertainty still cast its shadow over his face, gambling with his otherwise assuring words. “Whatever you decide I’ll… I’ll do what I need to do.”

There was no enthusiasm behind his promise, only a reluctant acceptance. You’d hoped for so much more.

⤰

Hawks couldn’t join you at your prenatal appointments.

He tried, once, when not a minute after showing up on the same block as the hospital, he was spotted and swarmed by fans. Thinking better of making a move that might lead you to suffer some unwanted media attention, he pulled back.

Later, after you’d trudged through the appointment alone, he called you to apologize.

You told him it was fine, and that you understood his need for discretion during all of this. After all, any whiff of information that the press claimed from this situation might prove detrimental to Hawks’s career. He was young, and a top hero; even if the two of you weren’t married, you knew part of his appeal was his bachelor status. Even if you’d both decided on this together, you were still worlds apart.

And from then on, there was an unspoken agreement that you would have to traverse most of your pregnancy alone.

⤰

When Hawks wasn’t thinking about hero work, he was thinking about you.

He was thinking about you, and his relationship with you—how it had been so ideal and complete. It was an escape from the labors of his day that often times felt more injurious than anything. Seeing you remedied that. Your presence was alleviating; your affections curative.

But now when he thought of the relationship, the happiness was sabotaged by a cloud of uncertainty—uncertainty for the unknown. From the very onset of his hero career, he’d planned to strictly dedicate himself to the betterment of society, no matter his personal sacrifices.

But how faithfully could he keep to that philosophy when it would no longer be his sacrifice alone, but also yours?

Hawks had thousands of admirers. Among them were beauties that would have undoubtedly been the apple of any other man’s eye: stunners who flashed him pretty smiles behind pretty lashes, flattering him with their worship and exaltation—but they were tributes he couldn’t afford. He couldn’t devote himself to one person when the rest of the country demanded preservation.

But you were the exception.

You two had met under such fleeting circumstances that he could have never guessed the journey on which the short encounter would take him. But then you two kept running into each other, over and over, until he’d found the opportunity to indulge the humor of it.

Is this just a coincidence? he’d joked with you. Or maybe you’re plotting something? Understandably, I’m a little suspicious.

You’d laughed so sweetly in response: a laugh that made his face warm and his wings twitch.

He had little control over what happened next. The warmth had sprouted. It had all gone so well. Doubts and fears about indulging a relationship with you slowly dwindled to a dormant worry. You were always so understanding and accommodating; you never harped on his business, and never guilted him for prioritizing hero work when it was necessary.

It was perfect. You were perfect.

But now, he had no idea what to think.

His feelings hadn’t changed for you, not at all. But this was an impossible situation, with an impossible answer. He was going to be a father. That was an unavoidable truth now, one he had yet to completely wrap his head around.

He wished it were easy. He wished he could bask in the anticipation of fatherhood, that he could be there to encourage your enthusiasms and grant you his part in this endeavor. You deserved that. You deserved support and happiness throughout this. But he didn’t know if he could deliver.

On patrol, Hawks saw mothers carrying their young infants in the street—something he’d given little thought or contemplation before. Now his soaring wings would come to a slow as he tried to imagine that it was you down there holding a baby in your arms, his baby; a baby with his hair and eyes—or maybe yours, or maybe a mix of both…

He’d shake his head and turn away from the spectacle, knowing his thoughts would spiral, and that they would serve only to distract him.

⤰

Hawks stopped visiting as often as he had been. It was a palpable evasion, and it cut you worse as the days went by.

He kept up with your texts, mostly. But the longer they went unanswered, the worse your anxieties grew. Whereas before an unanswered message would scarcely disturb you—he had a demanding job, after all—your reservations had all but crashed now. It left you in a state of unending worry; gut-wrenching conclusions toppling over one another until you’d exhausted yourself with grief.

You would spend hours curled up on the couch, waiting for his response, eager to be quelled of your dread. Didn’t he realize the longer he kept away from you, the worse you were for it?… The more guilt you felt for deciding you wanted to keep this baby?

Your hand would curl over your stomach, and you would wonder how something meant to bring so much joy had so far served only to bring you sorrow.

⤰

During a break in his late-night patrol, Hawks called you.

Bleary-eyed, you woke to the phone’s tuneful ringing, and reached for it clumsily on the nightstand.

“Hello?” you croaked once you’d answered the call.

As if he’d been idle, and not expecting you to answer, he cleared his throat. “Uh, hey.”

You waited, brain too fogged by sleep to think of your own mediation to the silence. It was then he realized that he would need to take the lead, lest he make this late-night disturbance in vain.

“Hey,” he started again, with hesitation. “I just… wanted to talk.”

“It’s late, Hawks,” you murmured, blinking away haze as you peered at your alarm clock. It was nearly past three.

“I know. Sorry. Listen, I…” The mere notion of elaborating on the toilsome thoughts in his head made his chest tight. The onslaught of guilt and confusion struck instantly.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and you could hear the self-condemnation constricting his throat. “I just…” Now his confidence digressed, his sentiments running faster than what words could articulate.

“I just didn’t know what to do,” he admitted finally, certain but woeful in his repentance. “I… guess I still don’t.”

You sat up in bed, let the blood flow evenly through your body to aid your thinking. “I’m confused too, Hawks, but I…” The thought of the turmoil you’d suffered all alone these last few weeks brought pitiful tears to your eyes, and a stutter to your breath. “I need your help.”

Touched by the sorrow in your tone, he raised his head to the night sky and breathed in his grief, then breathed it out.

“I know,” he said. “I know, and I’m sorry.”

For the next half-hour, you stayed on the phone with him, talking through mutual worry and braving the shame of confessing the anguish you felt because of his behavior.

He promised that he would take care of you. Both of you, he said.

And you went to bed that night with a little smile on your face, hoping the soothing optimism you felt would last.

⤰

Baby socks.

It was baby socks that did it.

With his wings withered down from a particularly exhausting battle, thereby shedding the token of his celebrity, Hawks indulged himself by doing something he rarely did: take a trip to the supermarket.

Still, it wasn’t something he did often. Even disguised in casual attire, sick mask and a hat complimenting the facade, there still remained a risk that he may be noticed. But the risk seemed worth it that day; the distraction that the mundane offered from his knotty thoughts was what he needed.

Still, wherever he went, so too did his anxieties, following him and reminding him of their need for resolve. In fact, maybe it was an unconscious decision that he ended up right here: staring down the baby supplies aisle, hesitation in his every step, almost as if the ground was hot coal. Unconscious, because part of him knew very well that despite the promises he’d made you, he still needed to come to his own terms with his convictions.

So it was part-obligation, and part-unbidden curiosity that pulled him down the aisle, his golden eyes giving a nervous perusal of the products on display.

He saw the rows of diapers, and tried to imagine using them: cleaning up an infant’s mess, suffering the smell. Hawks winced with a wrinkled nose.

He’d rather endure one of those interviews, for that one magazine, of who the interviewers always asked about his political preferences, almost like they wanted him to say something controversial. He hated those more than anything, so to say it was preferable to changing diapers wasn’t a very good outlook on his imminent child-rearing.

He was on a path to conjuring up more unpleasant visions of fatherhood, when he came to the clothes section.

It was a parade of bright pastels and fuzzy cotton; animal-print designs and cheesy phrases glaring at him from every shelf. It was banal to the point of nausea.

But then, the baby socks.

He couldn’t help but chuckle when he saw them: ornamented with fluff and lace, so small and delicate that it was almost impossible to believe a human foot belonged in there. But it did; a baby’s petite, soft foot—his baby’s foot, would fit snuggly.

Hawks envisioned it, then envisioned it some more, the array of merchandise fueling his imagination.

Then there were the pacifiers. The beanies. The onesies—

He had a stupid smile on his face as he loaded his cart with whatever caught his eye.

⤰

Your water broke while Hawks was on patrol.

He’d given you the number to his personal hero pager, with a promise that he’d leave work to his sidekicks if he was able and rush to you immediately.

Unfortunately, the odds were stacked against him; an aspiring group of villains, all of whom used wide-range quirks that made their capture difficult, took the better half of an hour to subdue.

By the time Hawks had done his work and left clean-up to the authorities, you were already in labor. And by the time he’d checked his pager for your emergency message—something he’d been doing almost hourly, now that your due date was close—and rushed to the hospital, all your work was done.

When he finally arrived, he was met by his newborn’s red cheeks and sweet cries.

“A boy,” you breathed out with a tired smile, sagging into the hospital bed.

Sweat streamed from your temple; dotted your brows and nose. If he hadn’t been so absorbed in the sight of the little human in your arms, he would have moved in to worry over your fatigue. But there he remained transfixed, golden eyes going to pinpricks as he gave the baby a hard inspection; his shock morphed into excitement, and from excitement: joy.

⤰

There was no paternity leave for heroes like Hawks. Crime in the streets demanded his attention almost as much as his crying baby.

But it was a rare night that he could be home with you, taking his parenting duties in stride, and finding them far less strenuous than he would have ever imagined.

In fact, he was starting to enjoy them. But the most treasured time was after all work was done, when you, him, and his son lay on the bed together, his little body between you two. It was restful, and strangely, to Hawks, the most at peace he’d ever been.

Whatever chores he’d done in his time with you fell far from the work you did every day taking care of the baby, and the moment you hit the sheets, an easing fatigue started to take you. Hawks might have indulged rest, if he wasn’t so engrossed in the spectacle his infant son was making.

Hawks watched him with adoring fascination, his honed eyes taking in every little wiggle, every soft twitch, every gentle stretch.

“Look, look,” Hawks entreated, reaching over to nudge you from a much needed sleep. “He’s kicking his little legs.”

You groaned quietly, kept your eyes shut. “He’s been kicking my insides for months now,” you responded groggily, but with the smallest of smiles. “Nothing new.”

Removed from all nuances that didn’t involve his son, Hawks was unfazed by your comment, and his enthusiasm continued undeterred. He lay there, the baby between the two of you, and watched his son test his little muscles for the first time.

The smile never left Hawks’s face.

⤰⤰⤰

#hawks x reader #keigo takami x reader #hawks x you

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papers4me · 3 years

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Fruits Basket Reboot: Analytical Overview of the Anime

Fruits Basket’s reboot is one of most successful anime reboots since it has:

Amazing story that celebrates human weakness, digs into the depths of human identity & doesn’t shy away from depicting child trauma & abuse. Teaches the values of letting go & walking forward.

The author’s blessing, nostalgia factor from loyal fanbase.

Fixed scheduled 3 season comeback with 63 eps in total planned from the very beginning.

Finished source material with its ending approved by manga fans.

Anime follows the official manga ending.

The “slice of life/shojo” genre doesn’t need budget for fight scenes or big scale realistic animation for its lore.

All these factors contributed to its success, however, this doesn't mean the anime was a masterpiece. It is very good but had issues aren’t in the writing, but rather in the format, overall vision & its effect on characters’ depths.

1. Format:

a. ( Is Fruits Basket an episodic anime or a plot-driving story?)

-The anime couldn’t decide how to adapt the manga content, should it follow it literally & combine two chapters together each time, or take the core plot & drive it by character, or focus on its vision or what? they KNOW that can’t adapt everything. They have 63 eps in total so they have good number of eps to do any choice. However, since the anime is advertised as “ a faithful adaptation” they wanted to cement this announcement in se01 & chose “character of the day” format. Once, the manga fans are assured & hooked, they can drive the rest wherever.

-Se02 was slightly less episodic (minus the beach arc which had perfect pacing). Afterwards, the yuki content was approached similarly to se1 but centered around “ episodic themes”. Lots of characters arcs are pushed to se3 to keep the “mother” theme of se2. that’s why all eps ended happily minus few eps such as tohru’s nightmare ending in isuzu’s ep.

-Se03 is where the anime really had the biggest issues & couldn’t decided between keeping themes or rolling like a true well-written drama-infused story. Thus we see them trying to keep the episodic themes as long as possible in 5 eps & once ep 6 starts & they can no longer label a flowing plot into themes, they rolled into the climax. The entirety of tohru’s neglected issues outside of her role as a mother was condensed in one ep via audio narration, since ep 7 should drive akito into the climax spot, ep 8 is kyo’s & ep 9 is female antagonist vs female protagonist clash. The rest of the eps focus around wrapping the growth arcs of kyo, akito, yuki & tohru.

I wish they kept the episodic forma for se01 only. Se01 is episodic by design since you can’t maneuver around character introduction, but they should’ve let season 2 & 3 flow smoothly without imposing episodic themes that a junior high schooler could detect, simply because the theme will choose which character fits this ep & which must be cut. Hardly a smart decision for a drama-focused story. Example: Se02 post-beach arc, being “mother tohru” themed meant the cut content of any “teenage girl tohru content”, focusing only on her role as a mother & shoving the rest of “tohru” into the unbelievably packed se03.

b. ( How the seasons are divided & which one is best?)

Lots of fans believed that: se1 (kyo focus), se2 (yuki focus), se3 (tohru focus), I don’t think this is the correct official anime format at all, but rather the fans wishful thinking, here’s why:

se01 isn’t kyo’s focus at all. Kyo has ONE focused ep each season: se01:ep24, se3: ep9, & se03: ep8. He gets more screen time in se03 to deal with the aftermath of ep8 & to mark his growth & close his arc. But, yuki had more focused eps in se01 than kyo. Example, se01, ep 12, yuki tells the audience abt his dream of new friends, home & new self, sth he achieved gradually ever since that ep ended, thus, Kisa’s ep is a yuki centered ep as well as it marked the beginning of (a) “mother tohru” issues, (b) him deciding to join student council & get out of his comfort zone which is the beginning of “ new yuki”.

se2 is indeed a yuki centered season.

se03 is not a tohru’s focus at all, we still had (akito, shigure, kyo, kureno, momiji, isuzi, haru, machi, motoko, & more yuki) to start or finish their arcs & it is 13 eps only. tho, Tohru had a self-focused role at last which is good.

-I believe the following format better describes the anime’s seasons’ division since it is driven by themes:

se01: Life teachings for the youngsters, due to the direct format of advise given by mother kyoko thro her daughter to the characters/ audience.

se02: Life teachings thro a coming of age story. The trio are struggling to choose a future, afraid & burdened by their trauma’s. Yuki with the help of “mother tohru” , leaves the nest “youngster stage” & sets his foot into the future & struggles to: have fiends, express himself, face his parents, be honest with himself, form an identity & understand himself.

se03: Life teachings of mature issues to those who have already chosen wrong once or twice. bigger issues are presented such as: guilt, death, trauma, extreme self-loath, self-destructive tendencies (kyo), grief, lack of self-esteem, refusing to let go of the past, abandonment issues, constructed polite girl identity with false happy mask (tohru), superiority complex, false forced identity, sins & misdeeds (akito), other themes such as adultery, manipulation, passiveness & enabling can fit the other characters.

So, naturally, season 3 is the richest in content, extremely entertaining story-focused, plot-driven, multi characters depth, plethora of themes, issues & variety of fascinating character writing to distinguish between various arcs & wrap ups. Honestly, se03 carries the whole success since it IS the story of Fruits Basket ( a basket of different fruits & we get to hear/see them all, including the rice-cake!). Still, se03 suffered from the issues of pacing & format I mentioned above, plus condensed content due to short number of eps dedicated to 12 characters.

2. Overall Vision:

Tohru being the main protagonist carries the story’s vision, however, I think Taklaya-san wanted the vision to expand to all her characters. I duno abt the author’s true vision since I haven’t read the manga, but if I were to guess based on the overall story: it is “the acceptance of human weakness”. Yuki isn't the perfect prince, tohru isn't the angelic mom, kyo isn't the horrible monster. These assumptions are the OTHER characters’ perspective of them. Not their true identity or reality. We later even learn that the abusive akito herself, chose a healthier identity, the atoned family head. However, in the anime, characters’ weakness isn’t the center of the anime’s vision, rather its vision is abt the “nurturing effects of the mother figure”, which is supported by the writing as well, but shouldn't be the core driving plot. The anime is more centered around mothers & more narrowly guided. The characters’ weaknesses takes a second seat until the focus on the mother role is over. This does not affect tohru only, but all characters including yuki himself.

-Tohru being the female protagonist shouldn’t be angelic as this contradicts the core theme, thus tohru is given her own set of (human aspects): trauma, frustrating character traits, faulty coping mechanism: the fake happy mask. Her role as yuki’s mother is only ONE part of her, as big as it is his life & as huge as it is from his perspective. It should NOT be what the audience can only see & feel from tohru. If it is, then Tohru is forever the 16 year-old mother of her peers, sth a normal teenager shouldn't, contradicting the basic existence of the human aspects mentioned above.

a. How does the overall vision being focused on “tohru’s motherly role” affect characters’ depths?

-For Tohru: In the anime, tohru being yuki’s mother lasted for 2 seasons, during that time, we are ONLY allowed to see HER from HIS perspective. Everything abt her human weakness is either vaguely hinted “ few scenes here & there” or pushed to se03. In se01 & 2, tohru is only allowed to act as a “teenage girl” in front of two male characters: (kyo & momiji):

How is tohru depicted in front of kyo & momiji? If you re-watch the anime, once tohru is around these two, her character is very different & she stops giving advice & instead “listen” to them. She is shown more lively & drawn younger & girly, asking more than talking, receiving advice, they both look at her as a normal girl with burdens on her shoulder rather than “savior/care taker”. Kyo complains to her few times abt that & calls her out on her self-denying antics, momoji takes a different approach & subtly provides chances for her to be a “teenage girl”: going to a hot spring & vacation. She opens up to kyo slowly in all her scenes with him, but while she doesn't open up to momiji, she allows herself to show vulnerability & throw her mask a bit in front of him (se01, ep12: she listened to his talk abt his mom, related to him, cried & hugged him with NO advice even tho she didnt tell him abt her mom), se02, she listened to his talk abt his sister, related to him, cried & gave NO advice even tho she didnt tell him she thought abt her mom).

The anime’s heavy focus on her “motherly”side, contradicts showing her as vulnerable & traumatized, hence her backstory lasted for 4 minutes in her own ep, se03, ep6. Later when she faces akito, tohru’s growth kicks in & she starts relating to her issues of abandonment but all this growth came from those 4 minutes of backstory in ep6. In ep9, in front of akito, tohru was depicted just like how she is depicted in all yuki centered eps, ( giving an advice, smiling, a hallow of light around her, the sun rises, the rain stops & she shines her kindness to heal the wounds).

-For Yuki: In the anime, Yuki is shown seeking a mother & all the right monologues & issues are perfectly presented. However, his weakness isn’t only wanting a mother!! yuki is depicted as a prince by others, so a huge part of his growth is to leave the princely persona behind, which is sth that was not focused on in the anime. Outside of his issues on viewing tohru as a mother & wanting friends, yuki continued to be depicted as prince & wasn't much allowed the freedom of being “a normal teenage boy”. Machi narrated that part of his growth, motoko too, but it wasnt depicted much on screen & yuki continued to have dashing bubbles, sparkles, hair flowing on wind & extreme focus on beautiful face. Him becoming a dynamic character outside of his “finishing my tohru-mother confession to my friend” is very short lived. This would’ve easily been fixed if less attention was given to his “mom tohru” phase. He is more than “I used to look at tohru as my mom”.

-For kyo: In the anime, kyo never looked at tohru as a mom, hence from the beginning kyo didn’t fit the overall vision. Hence, all his issues are pushed into se03 when tohru’s “mom role” is finished. There is a reason we have ONE kyo centered ep in se1 & 2. it IS contradicting the current tohru-image of being a mom. Also, kyo’s thoughts are blocked completely for dramatic purposes but he didnt need to be absent from tons of eps which he was, even his growth ever since se01 finale is very subtle in order to not derive from tohru’s image as a mom. We have some scenes of kyo & tohru interacting, but they should be sparse se01, ep 23 (soup ep) or se02, ep2, or short scenes such kyoto scene or tohru’s worried abt her grandpa scene in se2, ep14. Most of kyo’s & tohru’s scenes aren’t solely romantic in their nature but they provide in depth peek into their true personality & identity as humans. With her kyo isn’t angry or annoyed & with him tohru isn’t bubbly with the “I’m okay” mask.

Side Notes:

There is no doubt that the anime was made with respect & love to the source material & the author. I can see this clearly & I don’t deny it at all. This isn’t meant to ridicule them at all. I respect them all plenty.

There is no doubt that the anime team were trying their best & if you like everything, then good for you, if you like some parts & don’t agree with others, then that’s fine. Criticizing is a form of loving, too. Just be respectful.

Preferences, tastes, visions, & outlooks, all differ from one human to another. This is normal & healthy.

The director or decision maker in the anime having different vision from the author is fine, too. After all, he’s a different person. His perspective & understanding of her characters is different. Disagreeing with him is fine. All medium of art are exposed to the audience perspective. I disagree with him on lots of creative decisions such as reliance on monologues, wide shots on intense moments, lack of zoom on facial expressions, most parallel scenes are very in the nose, need for exaggerated drama & over dramatic drawing of tohru & akito at times.

You can even differ with the writer herself on some parts of her writing, that’s fine, too.

I enjoyed this anime lots, it helped me make new friends, discuss lots of fascinating content, & practiced writing short critical reviews, which is sth I’ve missed from my college days!

I love the writing for the main male characters: Yuki & Kyo. I love their arcs so much! Yuki got the best focus on his core issues. Kyo, in particular surprised me as I used to think, due to the minimum content on him, that he’s only the secondary rival of the main male protagonist. But kyo’s story turned out fascinating & very psychological informed.

Still, the anime is lacking to me for its depiction & presentation of women. The main female characters (Tohru & akito) are lacking realistic depiction of their core issues & time dedicated to that. The focus on tohru’s mom role steals from realistic existence as a character on her own right. Akito is a villain for so long & her atonement is quick & her love story is quicker. Both females didn’t get to tell us their traumatic backstory in detail like the boys & they didn’t have enough focus on their human side.

Altho kyo had (1) way less screen time than yuki or even tohru, (2) his true backstory was only revealed in the climax, (3) his inner thoughts were blocked for suspense, he was written wearing his emotions on his sleeve from ep1, so, we grew to feel for him & dreaded what could’ve broken such endearing boy, hence, once it was shown we understood the psychological trauma that destroyed him. One third of the puzzle of his story was revealed each season gradually. (1) se01 (true form), (2) se02 (his bet with akito, knowing kyoko & loving tohru), (3) se03 (His whole backstory including the abusive father).

I wouldn’t say, I wish tohru was given the (yuki treatment) cuz then we’ll need more than 13 eps for se03, I just wished her story & emotions to at least be given the (kyo treatment): Divided into clear thirds (parts).

The anime is a lovely treat that I can recommend to lots of ppl with ease. You dont have to be into shojo to get into it, but it’ll undoubtedly trick you into its subtle main love story that subvert most shojo tropes. The other love stories are good as well, there’s a type of love for every fan!

There’s a number of platonic friendships which is very refreshing!

My Final Verdict of the anime: Very Endearing as it tugs at my heart!

#Fruits Basket #Anime Only #overall impression #analytical overview #tried paper #Recommended anime for sure!#Will read the manga!#se03 sells the manga good!

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meimi-haneoka · 3 years

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Akiho Shinomoto - a manifesto of love

Despite becoming one of my favorite characters in the whole Cardcaptor Sakura franchise (and I would’ve never expected to love a new character this much), I realized I’ve never spent a long post for her, like the ones I did for SyaoSaku or for Tomoyo and Syaoran long time ago.

And there’s a lot to say, because Akiho Shinomoto is actually the first character who has introduced the concepts of evil and child abuse in Cardcaptor Sakura.

Something that wasn’t even remotely conceivable until (almost) 5 years ago.

Often considered boring and weak from the CCS fandom, Akiho actually harbors an immense strength inside of her, which goes mostly unnoticed to everyone, in-story friends included. Let’s see why.

Sentenced to death, for lack of magical powers

Once upon a time, a baby girl was born in a clan of powerful magicians, the most ancient of Europe. Clan members seemed happy and curious about the new entry to the family. They had great expectations about what magic she would develop, as everyone else in that family. At the ripe old age of 1 year and a half / 2 years, the baby girl was expected to show some signs of magic, but she had none. But hey, maybe she would become powerful later, let's pat her head and wait patiently. At that time, the Clan still showed some kind of "attention" for her.

But by the time the girl was around 6/7 years old, no fragment of magic appeared in her. Unacceptable. She's the daughter of two top rank magicians, in a clan of magic prodigies. Yet, she showed none of those gifts. They kept comparing her with some boy, living in a far away country, part of another famous magical clan. The girl suddenly held no more interest for her Clan. They actually started seeing her as a stain on their Clan's pride. Suddenly, the focus was all on how they could surpass the other rival clan. The girl was left all alone. A magicless member of the family is a member who doesn't even deserve being talked to. An interrogatory, at most. Who cares if the little girl wants to socialize, if she wants to play, if she's the only young person in that Clan, already without her parents who died so early on? The only thing this girl was good at was reading books, so all that's she's allowed to do. Not even playing with stuffed animals. For some reason, she's allowed to keep only ONE plushie, which is basically everything to her. But books and dolls can't fill that sinkhole she's already feeling at such young age.

Obsessed with this "anomaly", when she was about 2 years old, the Clan had the baby girl examined by a member of a Magic Association in England, known to be the den of shady magicians. A 8/9 year old bored magic genius, named “Yuna D.”, was her examiner. The boy said "She's like a blank book". The girl grew up, and the situation was still the same. The disapproving stares of her relatives cut the little girl’s heart like a sharp knife. They called her “worthless”, “useless”. They even doubted she could really be the daughter of her powerful parents. So what should they have done? Let the little girl live her life like any other regular human being, or taking literally the words of a BORED, EMOTIONALLY UNDEVELOPED CHILD who literally spat out the first thing that came to his mind?

Although the choice should’ve come easily for any normal human being with a functioning brain, they actually went in the other direction, greedy for power. And so, they decided to treat the girl like a tool, using her to store all kinds of magic for them to use. If she couldn’t be of any help to her clan with her capabilities, they would give her a purpose.

On some kind of altar, halfway between a lab rat and the sacrificing ritual of a sect, the most ancient Magicians of Europe together with the Magic Association performed a dangerous magic on her, which afterwards would take its toll even on the casters: they turned her into a magical artifact, capable of engraving in herself all the magical books she would encounter, transforming her de facto into a book herself. As if this wasn’t horrifying enough, this spell will progressively try to crush her soul and conscience, until it gets destroyed completely. So when the artifact will reach its limit, it will be the death of her, as a human being. Only a shell of her will remain. And judging by what was said later on in the story, they actually hope for her to lose her consciousness completely, so they can make use of her more easily.

Afterwards, they burned the book they took the ritual from, so the procedure would remain in their knowledge only. Greedy till the very last drop.

Once their perfect magical tool was achieved, turning a little girl into some sort of artifact, both the Clan and their accomplices couldn't stop bragging about it. The only positive words Akiho has ever received in her life by her people were after she was turned into a tool.

With a newly found purpose for that stain on their clan’s pride, they sent her away into the world to collect all the magic books she could find and write their powers into her, even though she was still just a child. For reasons still unknown, Yuna D., the boy who involuntarily caused this horrible ritual to happen and basically condemned her to death, offers himself to accompany her. The very first decision he took in his own life. That decision will change forever the course of their life, for both of them.

Rising from the ashes, towards a future of hope

Rehashing Akiho’s past is important to understand her personality and behavior fully. CLAMP, in the Clear Card manga, have portrayed the story of her past in a very peculiar way: it starts as any other fairytale, with light tones and cute designs. But as the story progresses, and the horror ensues, the tone of the tale changes, and so the drawing style too. It becomes serious, and “realistic” (ad opposed to the initial cutesy style). What started as a possible generic fairytale, turned into a real nightmare.

On top of being deprived of the love of her parents ever since she was born, because apparently they died right after, Akiho spent her early childhood in complete solitude. Those magicians who were supposed to be her remaining family were too absorbed into their own greed for power, to consider the needs of a baby girl. Not to mention that they had some kind of disgust for her, for being magicless. She was denied attention, cuddles, conversations, play activities, toys. She was denied love and care. All basic things that contribute to shape the personality and psychology of a person. Akiho grew up with the conviction that she wasn’t worth any of that, because no one gave it to her. One of the complaints I have seen the most about her in the fandom, is how she’s always so apologetic, to the point of becoming obnoxious. If you think about it, one of the most prominent characteristics of her personality is how she continuously apologizes to people, thanks them for any smallest thing, and is always, constantly seeking validation.

But if you stop for a second to think about her past, you’ll realize with dismay that those are none other than symptoms of the abuse she suffered in the past. She was called “good for nothing” and “useless” by her clan and the Magic Association, and those words carved themselves into her heart, forever scarring it. Akiho grew up believing that she was really worthless and good for nothing just because she couldn’t meet the expectations of her clan, and it’s apparent when we see her considering herself “extremely clumsy”, even though we have afterwards seen that she’s perfectly capable of cooking, sewing, even playing sports. She only needs the dedication of someone who would teach her that.

With a disastrous psychological situation like this, one would naturally wonder how this girl didn’t commit anything extreme yet. Completely alone in the world, deemed useless. Unloved.

Books, books were her first lifeline. The fictional, magical, wonderful worlds depicted in those stories saved her sanity, making her dream about a better life, about friendship, about love. They taught her everything. They gave her the hope that those things existed out there, and maybe one day she would be blessed with them too. The fantastical characters kept her company when no one was there for her (yet). And she loves them viscerally for that, to the point of seeing herself mending damaged books in the future, as a possible occupation. Just like they mended her lacerated heart.

The second lifeline was her meeting with Kaito. Uncharacteristically to him, Kaito showed immediately a kind and interested behavior towards her. This was so shocking, so incredible that Akiho’s first reaction to his introduction was to run away. No one ever addressed her with the intention of having a conversation. No one was ever interested in what she was reading. Even just by this you can get a glimpse of how miserable her life had been till then. Full of psychological issues himself, thanks to the human connection Kaito gradually turned his attentions towards Akiho from contrieved mannerism, to genuine and sincere gestures. Akiho can feel that affection, even if her self-criticism always pushes her to believe that she’s nothing more than “job” to him. It’s something small, but what she’s experiencing with Kaito is her everything, and more than she’s ever had.

The third lifeline is Momo: Akiho doesn’t know, nor remotely imagines she’s actually a living magical creature. But she has been her constant presence ever since she was born. Her connection to her is special, and you can see it in their daily (one-sided, for now) interactions. Akiho talks to Momo, she greets her when she comes back home, she constantly carries her around, she thinks about giving her a little dress as a present. Momo is Akiho’s strength. The love this girl pours into what she believes is just a stuffed animal is incredible. It goes to show Akiho’s immense capacity to love something/someone without expecting anything in return, but actually just enjoying the simple presence and courage they give to her. If you think about it, it’s the very opposite of what she experienced with the only human interactions she’s ever had before Kaito came into the picture. Her aptitude to selfless love is also remarked between the lines in chapter 49, when Akiho is telling Sakura about her relationship with Kaito. Despite all the ugliness she went through, she’s still able to find in herself the strength to overcome all of it, and change her life for the better.

This certainly hasn’t been an easy or quick process, because in the flashbacks of her journey with Kaito we always see her with a pensive/serious look. It must have been extremely hard to start trusting others, when she had no one she could count on in her own home.

Akiho’s capacity to love and rise from the ashes of her terrible past has been so contagious, that it has started to affect Kaito too. As Momo said in chapter 51, once you’re given the reason to change, no person can ever stay the same. This must have been true for Kaito, but certainly for Akiho too.

I’m absolutely positive that Akiho (and possibly, Kaito too) will be the symbol for one of the most important, beautiful messages in the whole Clear Card Arc: even if your life isn’t perfect, even if your past scarred you in multiple ways, there’s always hope. Hope to turn over a new leaf and change yourself for the better too, in the process. Overcome everything that had you stuck in pain and grief. Achieve what you always wished for.

#Card Captor Sakura #cardcaptor sakura #clamp #ccsakura #akiho shinomoto #sakura cardcaptor #ccs #clear card arc #clear card

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milktoast-mcgee · 3 years

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the boys and their royal arms

I’ve rambled about this a little bit before on twitter, but I decided to finally sit down and get these thoughts out about noct, his boys, and the royal arms they use!

tldr, the royal arms prompto, gladio, and ignis use during the armiger chain (in addition to the talismans they can get and the boons the kings’ sigils represent in comrades) illustrate key aspects of their characters.

Introduction

Throughout Final Fantasy XV, Noctis and his retinue search for the Royal Arms, the weapons of the Kings of Yore. They're representative of Noct's birthright and his destiny as the True King. He and his companions, Prompto, Gladio, and Ignis, search for the weapons all over the world. As he adds them to his Armiger, not only does Noctis use the Royal Arms, but the boys wield them as well -- notably, in the Armiger Chain combination attack. Accumulating more of the glaives makes the chain last longer, and all four boys use every weapon in the collection together.

Beyond the battle mechanic, the Royal Arms each of them use carry a strong thematic element. Each glaive illustrates something about each young man -- their characters, their strengths, their weaknesses, their character arcs. This idea extends beyond just the Arms to the Kings themselves, present in their sigils in the Comrades expansion as well as the unique equippable talismans each boy receives.* These themes perfectly illustrate just how connected Prompto, Gladio, and Ignis are to Noctis -- they are fundamentally linked, inexorably bound together.

* (These are only present in the Royal Pack/Royal Edition. They are found in Insomnia in Chapter 14, either after completing all the Kingsglaive quests for Cor. I think. I don't remember... shhsdugif)

Prompto

"My whole life, all I ever wanted was friends... but no one ever wanted me back. So when I finally found people who did want me, I did everything I could to make them stay. And ever since then, I've lived my life in fear -- that one day, they'd find out who I really was, and they wouldn't want me anymore."

Prompto struggles greatly with self-doubt and rejection. He knows he's an outsider and feels that outsiderness to his core, even as a child. But in the face of that, he strives to play the mood maker -- he tries to hold the party together, keep the air light, and make people happy. He attempts to remain outgoing and cheerful, even when he's not, or nobody else is. Noctis and the others love him dearly, regardless of his origins, because he is who he is -- sweet, caring, talented, heartful, thoughtful Prompto. While he at once represents rejection and outsiderness, he also stands for unity and togetherness, and these elements are present in his connection to the Kings.

Prompto receives the talisman of the Clever. The talismans accentuate the boy's unique abilities, and Prompto's grants him increased critical hit rate and unlimited ammo for the SMG. Prompto's gunplay is incredible -- acrobatic, precise, and powerful. It's a far cry from how Prompto tends to feel about himself; he is skilled and capable, even if he doesn't believe he is. The Clever is the perfect mantle for him to carry to represent this.

Though Prompto doesn't use the Bow of the Clever in battle, the Clever fits him very well. The Clever is said to have been a king "versed in myriad arts both martial and intellectual." The Clever's weapon easily fits Prompto, but during the Armiger Chain, it's Noctis who uses it -- while Prompto wields the Sword of the Wise, which carries its own significance.

Noct uses the Bow of the Clever, it fits Prompto as a weapon: it's the only glaive that's projectile, aside from the Star of the Rogue, which Prompto also uses. It fires spectral arrows to skewer foes all across the battlefield. In addition, in the Comrades expansion, the Clever's sigil allows the bearer to summon spectral arms at will. It replaces the use of spells to summon eight special armaments to wield at once. It's a form of battle very appropriate to Prompto, isn't it?

The Clever is said to have been talented in many varied ways. The same could definitely be said of Prompto, whether he believes it or not. While a commoner, he keeps up with his royal companions in battle. When he knocks enemies off guard, he can deliver devastating blows to rival even magic. He can take photos in battle effortlessly -- something his companions love, except when Noct is being gnawed on by a daemon. But while Prompto sees himself as incapable, a burden to his team, he's well able to keep up with them, and strives to hold the group together. The mantle of the Clever fits him so well in this aspect.

But while Noct uses the Bow during the Chain, Prompto uses the Sword of the Wise. The Wise is the King who first erected the Wall and established the borders of the kingdom of Lucis. He was a notably mighty figure and protected the realm. His blade represents the foundation of the Kingdom, and Noct's birthright -- and while Noct uses the weapon that most fits Prompto, Prompto in turn uses the Sword of the Wise, a clear symbol of Noct's royal blood. He is more than capable and deserving to wield it, even briefly, despite how Prompto feels about himself.

Prompto also uses the Star of the Rogue. The Rogue was a figure reviled by the people. She "spurned the public eye and took to the shadows." It's a huge shuriken, and Prompto actually briefly wields it against the daemonified Rogue in the Citadel battle. The Rogue is a figure of royal power but rejection -- intensely shunned by the people, choosing to rule away from their eyes. She wears a mask in her armor; it doesn't appear to be a helmet or battle regalia, but rather a means of hiding her face, obscuring herself further.

The queen is a figure of stealth and prowess, but will never quite belong to the public, to her people. Only when she is gone is she remembered fondly by history. Prompto definitely feels he doesn't belong, and likely that he never will. He's a lonely child from a lonely home. He knows he's from the enemy nation, branded by them. For years, he doesn't believe he deserves to be Noctis's friend, and pushes himself to be good enough to finally approach him. Even when he's assimilated into Noct's retinue, he feels he doesn't compare to the likes of them, and fears the day they all reject him... even though the idea is completely unthinkable to them.

This idea extends nicely to the third Royal Arm Prompto uses, the Scepter of the Pious. The Pious is described as a king who "ruled the realm according to divine law and worked hand in hand with the Oracle." It's a weapon that strikes with a blade of light. It enhances magic and is particularly strong against dark elements. The Scepter is a weapon to represent unity, togetherness. The King worked with the Oracle -- a nice parallel to Prompto's correspondence with Lunafreya, and how she gave him the courage to befriend Noctis -- to unite Lucis. It's a weapon that represents strength in teamwork, in united people, breaking down the walls that divide them to live as one.

Prompto's use of the Royal Arms illustrate his biggest fears and greatest strengths. He's an outsider, terrified of rejection. But he's a dedicated and loyal friend, devoted to helping them and keeping them happy. Despite the differences that could potentially drive them apart, Prompto is a vital part of Noct's retinue. Despite his wavering confidence, he is talented and incredibly skilled. He's unique and irreplaceable, and his closest friends know that. One day, Prompto will, too, and he and Noct can knock down the barriers between their people once and for all.

"I owe Noct everything, for standing by me always. And now... it’s my turn to stand by him.”

Gladio

"I swore a vow to do whatever it takes to protect you and the future of our world."

So, let's get this out of the way: Gladio suffers from a tragic lack of character development. While this can be another sad side effect of XV's troubled development **, we can attempt to spin it into something subtle and quiet, illustrating Gladio's softer side. His connection to the Royal Arms shows that not only does he want to be strong, he wants to protect those he cares about above all else. Gladio is ultimately very caring and deeply, truly loyal, even though he's as hard and heavy as blade steel sometimes.

** (Rumor has it, Clarus, Gladio's father, was going to betray the Crown, and Gladio would face deep inner conflict over it, having to choose between his father's ideals and Noctis's journey. Apparently the role was given instead to Drautos/Glauca in Kingsglaive, who has a much more prominent presence in the movie than Clarus. None of this is confirmed, though, and isn't present in any released canon materials... so who knows. It's worth mentioning because it speaks to maybe their taking out Gladio's planned character arc and forgetting to put anything back in its place...here’s the reddit post that compiles the theories pretty well, if you’re curious.)

Gladio receives the Tall's talisman. When it's equipped, it accelerates the rate at which Gladio's valor gauge increases. His valor, in battle, best increases from uninterrupted combos and counterattacks, both appropriate given his nature as Shield, well-trained for battle but focused on defense. It's a simple boon that's incredibly valuable in battle, and battle is an inescapable aspect of Gladio's life. Along with the talisman, Gladio wields the Sword of the Tall. It's a broadsword, Gladio's preferred type of weapon. The Tall is said to have been "built like a mountain, towering over all others." It's a peculiar kind of sword with a chainsaw-like blade, which rips and tears mercilessly through enemies. For its incredible strength and vitality boost, it lowers elemental and magic defenses. This is matched by the Tall's sigil in the Comrades expansion, which greatly increases attack power at the cost of casting spells. The Tall's is a mantle of muscle, not mettle, but it's not the only King's presence Gladio carries.

Gladio also wields the Shield of the Just. His secondary preferred weapon is a shield, obviously focused on defense and counters. The Just is a queen of yore -- she and the Rogue are the only queens of Lucis present ingame. She is not given a name, but her armor has a massive silhouette, her presence immense. The Shield of the Just, as expected, offers Noctis huge defense. It greatly decreases attack to grant significant defenses, both physical and elemental. Its description describes the Just as a queen devoted to peace who was loved by all. Though her phantom visage is imposing, the Just is a strong, steadfast figure of peace, not violence. It's a strong contrast to the Sword of the Tall; if the Tall's is his blade, the Just's is his shield.

The Axe of the Conqueror is the third Royal Arm Gladio uses. While the Tall and the Just represent Gladio's strength and will to protect, the Conqueror represents willpower and moving forward. The Axe describes the Conqueror as a king who "performed great feats of arms, expanded his realm, and made his people prosper." This is all too appropriate for Gladio's role in Noctis's retinue, not just as his protector but his guide. When Noct can't move forward, Gladio pushes him. When he can't think, Gladio thinks for him. When things get difficult, Gladio helps Noctis grow and move on, whether he wants to or not. Gladio is a big brother, after all, and he wants only the best for those he cares about and wants them to succeed, just as the Conqueror did.

Gladio's use of the Royal Arms illustrates his boundless strength both in offense and defense. He carries a broadsword and shield and the needs of his companions. Gladio pushes forward. He is fiercely loyal and cares deeply for those around him, and pushes forward without hesitation, bringing those he must protect with him. Gladio wants to be strong, not only for the sake of power, but for the power to protect the ones he cares about. He cherishes the things he holds dear, and will protect them with all his being.

"You're right, I am afraid. ... Maybe I'm not really cut out for the job I'm expected to do. ... I may be all muscle and no mettle, but I'm gonna keep protecting Noct the only way I know how."

Ignis

"This world means nothing to me. Do with it as you wish. ... But I refuse to let Noct sacrifice his life to save ours. I won't let you take him away."

Ignis has served the Crown for nearly all his life. He's been Noct's companion the whole while -- his friend and brother, as designated by King Regis himself. Since he was a child, he's carried royal responsibility. He's composed, precise, and calculating, well-versed in all kinds of matters, political and not. He's a strategist, a royal advisor, and he keeps at Noct's side without hesitation. While he maintains a very cool, thoughtful demeanor, confronting problems with plans and logic, he has a relentless, reckless side. He is willing to resort to violence should the plan call for it, especially if the safety of Noctis and his companions is at stake. Ignis has a very smooth, calm surface with a deep, deep underlying intensity that rarely shows.

Ignis receives the Wanderer's talisman in the fallen Insomnia. When it's equipped, it boosts Ignis's Total Clarity gauge, heightening his senses and deepening his focus. In battle, Ignis uses strategic elemancy -- imbuing his daggers with fire, ice, and lightning -- and counterattacks. He doesn't utilize raw strength; instead, his battle prowess uses his strategic mind. Reaching Total Clarity allows him to unleash a particularly decisive blow. He is a fast, strategic, relentless attacker, perfectly carrying the mantle of the Wanderer. In addition, the Wanderer's sigil in Comrades carries an entirely supportive effect -- it casts Cheer on the party, heightening their abilities. It fits Ignis's penchant for strategy, supporting his comrades and planning instead of rushing into battle and relying on raw strength.

The Wanderer is said to have been "quick like the wind and went where no man had gone before." His swords "rain fury -- together they deliver thundering blows." The Swords of the Wanderer have three distinct forms, interlinked and not, to adjust to the needs of battle. The Wanderer was clearly a versatile, flexible fighter. He roamed the unknown and pressed on into strange territory without fear. "Wandering" implies a lack of a destination, focusing not on the end of the journey but shoving onward regardless.

It's too fitting that Regis tells a young Ignis something he will never forget: "One cannot lead by standing still. A King pushes onward always, accepting the consequences and never looking back."

When Ignis is blinded by his sacrifice and Noct disappears into the Crystal, the Wanderer mantle fits him even more. The light has disappeared from his world, both literally and metaphorically. He can no longer see -- greatly debilitating his extensive prowess -- and his life's purpose, being at Noctis's side, is left to the lurch. He investigates the royal tombs and the ruins of old civilizations to the best of his ability. He pushes on alone, not to prove anything to his friends but to himself. He refuses to burden anyone, even though the boys would never think that of him. He's left without a destination, without purpose, but pushes onward, always. He finds the ability to fight again, delves deep into the history of Eos, and holds onto the hope that one day Noctis will return. And, soon enough, he does, only for the prophecy to snatch him away once and for all.

Ignis also wields the Katana of the Warrior, which couldn't be more fitting for him, especially given his relationship with Noct. The glaive is even found in Fondina Castino in Cartanica, the boys' first stop after the catastrophe in Altissia. Ignis is blind, hating himself for every stumble, hating how Gladio and Noct fight while Prompto tries to stop them. After the retinue finds the Katana, Ignis finds his resolve and tells his companions he will continue, and if he can't keep up, he will not hinder them. He will gladly fall behind if it means they can push on together. "I would remain with you all," he says, "to the very end."

The Warrior's glaive bears a tragic description: "A king was changed forever when his beloved queen was taken from him prematurely. This was his katana." The weapon strikes swiftly, calculatedly, cutting down foes “in a single heartbeat." It carries magical defense but is especially weak to dark elements. The Warrior's mantle couples well with Ignis's losses throughout the story -- he loses his home, his sight, the light of the world, and his most beloved companion. Even then, he pushes on. He carries his sorrows and pushes onward, regardless, knowing full well the pain of losing everything that matters, and what else there is to lose.

The third Royal Arm Ignis wields is the Mace of the Fierce. The Fierce was said to be "gentle before his people but an ogre on the battlefield," dealing massive, crippling blows with his glaive. This weapon in particular illustrates the side of Ignis he keeps carefully hidden. For all his composure, his careful planning and strategic mind, he can be reckless, ruthless, and violent. When planning to infiltrate an Empire base, for instance, he's not above torturing someone to get information he needs. When he needs to get something done, he will get it done. When it comes to Noct's safety, he will do whatever it takes. He will gladly throw away his own safety, his sight, and his life to save him. This duality is nicely represented by the Fierce's glaive -- nice and composed, but cold and relentless when the situation calls for it.

Beneath his calm, placid surface, Ignis is a blazing fire. He's intensely driven, fiercely loyal, and wholly devoted to Noctis as he has been his whole life. He will throw everything away without question, even himself, if it means saving the ones he cares about. He is thoughtful and strong, careful and precise, but has a tendency to be ruthless, reckless, and destructive -- forgoing his own wellbeing to reach his ends. In the wake of tragedy, he pushes on, holding onto unwavering hope, unyielding devotion, unable to ever let go.

"Even if it costs my own life to save him... I will pay that price!"

All for the True King

The remaining four Royal Arms are used by Noct in the Armiger Chain. They, too, carry significance in his wielding them -- especially in the combination attack, symbolizing the unity of him and those he cares about. Noctis wields the Blade of the Mystic, the Bow of the Clever, the Trident of the Oracle, and the Sword of the Father during the Armiger Chain. The Blade of the Mystic stands for the Founder King. The Bow of the Clever is a weapon especially fit for Prompto, who then wields the Sword of the Wise, one of the fundamental figures of Lucian history. The Trident of the Oracle belongs to Luna, and the Sword of the Father belongs to none other than King Regis.

Noct's use of the Royal arms in the chain complements those his boys use, further symbolizing the unity and togetherness between them and the people -- and the whole world -- they care about. The Kings' stories are present in the Prince's friends, showing just how deeply connected they are to Noctis. There's no doubt Noct loves his boys dearly, and their thematic connections to the Kings and their weapons only illustrate how much they care about each other. They travel together, ride together, and rule together with the blessings of Kings past. Even in the wake of trial and tragedy, they remain inseparable, inexorably bound together, standing tall in the face of the dawn.

tldr AND DARLING DARLINGGGG STANDDDD MY MEEEE

screenshots from ardynizunya on twitter and the final fantasy fan wiki -- please let me know if you need credit for any of these! ;o;/

#ffxv #final fantasy xv #analysis #words words words #uhhhhh #how do I tag this #royal arms #comrades is okay and I enjoy it sometimes it's a 6/10 maybe play if you like crumbs of lore like me

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ginkgomoon · 3 years

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Helios- A Character Study

I have always been fascinated by Helios so I’m especially excited about this post! If there’s any other additional information you would like to add, ask, or discuss, feel free to send an ask or a post so I can adjust and clarify for you. But before that, I have other things I want to add that are important regarding my blog- I will be expanding and analysing other characters in MLQC, so not to worry Victor, Kiro and Lucien (and Shaw, Eli?, Savin?) stans! I has't not hath left thee! In addition, before every analysis/study that I do, I will post a hint (such a quote) that will foreshadow the upcoming character/topic I will be covering. I know it’s not necessary and literally nobody does it but this is great fun for me so I also want to try to make it fun for you guys to approach my blog and my work! This is a spoiler buffet. Please don’t read if you don’t want to be spoiled! This is probably the longest post ever on my blog so enjoy :)

“You either die a hero or live long enough to become a villain.” -The Dark Knight

Who is Helios?

??: Do you know what Helios means? The mocking in his face had returned. He suddenly came close and placed his hand on the window behind me. I was imprisoned in his arms and couldn’t move. His eyes drilled into my own. I felt that if I showed even the smallest hint of discomfort or fear, he would use that as an excuse to push me away. MC: Helios is the sun god from Greek mythology- ??: I don’t like that name.

Helios is the God of the Sun, sight and a guardian of oaths. He is seen to be riding a golden chariot to bring the sun across the skies each day from east (where the sun rises) to west (where the sun sets).

Kiro has lots and lots and lots of sun, light, dark and shadow imagery attached to him. Kiro is noted to be everyone’s sun, especially for MC and vice versa as she’s noted to be the one to chase the darkness away with Kiro following through. When he has those stage moments as his idol identity, it’s expected for him to be the guiding light (especially for his fans, the Kirophiles)- “the sun” and “hope” as to what “Kiro” represents, without any impurities associated with that persona. Which is ironic for Helios, who dressed mostly in black without the blonde hair, to have that same name as the God of the Sun working in BLACK SWAN- the organisation with the name literally having “black” in it as well.

“If Kiro is this exuberance and this life, Helios is the opposite of that. It’s what if we took someone who stopped finding reasons to be happy, who stopped finding a lot of things to be passionate about and was just trying to get on day by day- they react to the things that happen to them, rather than going out to look for adventure. Helios lacks a lot of emotion that Kiro has.” -Sean Chiplock, Kiro’s VA

Kiro and Helios

“If I had a dark side… I should hide it from others, right…? Can I really be imperfect?”

There had been a lot of discussion around Helios in relation to his transformation, whether he was acting and what Kiro’s connection with BLACK SWAN is.

To clarify, yes- Kiro is Helios. Helios is Kiro. Just like how Kiro admitted to MC that he’s also the hacker KEY. Helios is just one of the personas that Kiro has (which I will expand on in a future post). This, however, does not hinder negatively on Kiro’s personality, but introduces us to another side of him, one that shows effective in-depth characterisation. Especially when we first view him as the cheerful idol with the power to passively attract others. Kiro first gave off the certain impression to Sean Chiplock that you “don��t take off the calm and quiet person, because you don’t want to see the other side of them”.

Kiro and Helios, which one was the real him? Neither? Or both? -Clinic Date

Before MC has her first encounter with Helios, we have to look more into Kiro’s background and childhood.

Kiro was experimented on as a kid. He didn’t know his name, his birthday or where he came from. Through the experiments of genetic modification, he obtained his evol. Only when MC and the original KEY came to him, did he really strive to fulfil his sense of purpose of “we shall stand in darkness as we defend the light”, and also to protect MC back. His mentor used to be the original Helios, one of the twelve-ranking positions in BLACK SWAN, but went missing when Kiro was 15. Been given the name Kiro, using his idol identity, accepted this as Helios and as of the leader of BLACK SWAN to rid Leto- the true evil of the Season 1 timeline.

It is evident that he does genuinely care about his fans, his career and music despite all of this. This aspect of him is very much true (we see that he exposes a person scamming his fans in Chapter 3 and that in his various dates he dedicates his work to comforting his fans in their everyday lives). However, with this much love and support from everyone with very few knowing his true intentions and darker past, it is easy to “trip up” upon these identities, in a way that he would feel so lonely (as I reiterate what I said above) that everyone would think he’s the perfect man (not saying he isn’t because we all know he is!) without any troubles or experiencing difficulties climbing up the ranks to be where he is now- especially with his evol being charm and control. He would wonder if it’s really him or his evol making people act this way towards him (why he has this much love and attention).

In reality, every teacher who has met him adored him very much. But because of this, Kiro always remained in fear. From the beginning to the end, he had felt that the love and care from others was akin to smoke - surging at first, but from thereafter, dissipates gradually. -CN Stunning Young Idol Rumours and Secrets

He’s like a little sun with no dark spots at all. No wonder people say people say he has a super power. He seems to be loved by everybody… -Chapter 3-1

“A lot of people adore me, but only when I’m doing my thing on stage. They wouldn’t want to see me now...” -Visiting Hours Date

It would be incredibly hard for him to keep this standard and uphold these burdens with his identity as Helios and KEY as well- where everyone would believe those personas of him to be the “vice”- the “evil”, in morality play. Because when the people who love you only know and love this side of you, what becomes of you when you lose it all?

Superstar Kiro was a little angel who received the admiration and respect of thousands and thousands of fans. What the hacker KEY sounded like was someone with malicious intentions.

Kiro didn’t know which one of his identities was more famous. Though of course, nobody would correlate these two polar-opposite identities together. -CN Heavens Home for Children Rumours and Secrets

He always looked so carefree in front of people, smiling and laughing. But when he was alone in the corner, he always looked so solemn and tired. Countless times, Savin had wanted to talk to Kiro about his work, life and feelings but with just a few words, Kiro would always put him to ease. -That Boy Makes Me Worry Rumours and Secrets

However, behind his brilliant smile, I could occasionally feel something different. It was like paper that couldn't be penetrated. After all, he was a superstar. Ordinary people like us wouldn't understand their world, they must have one or two faces of their own behind the screen. -Secret Base Rumours and Secrets

In the makeup room, sitting on the sofa, Kiro had lost some shine he had under the spotlight and looked a little bit exhausted. -Confession Date

In a way, Kiro still staying so pure and happy when others are around is because he doesn’t want people to suffer like he did. He had an extremely rough time when he was young, but his beliefs, light and hope that MC gave him allowed him to fight for better days.

I then thought about the superstar Kiro many years later, who was always shining and effortlessly charming. This made me really sentimental. How many things must he have been through to become strong enough to bring light to other people? -Echoes of Time: Parisian Salon

She looked so pretty when she smiled, and she also had a father who loved her dearly. She was definitely… someone who deserved to live the most. -CN Top Experimental Subject Rumours and Secrets

His dazzling smile conceals something underneath, just like how the dazzling sun shrouds darkness underneath. Hidden in the depths of his own secrets are things even darkness doesn’t know of. If darkness had a mind of its own, it might think it doesn’t fit with this pure and simple youth. Just as how everyone thinks of him as a simple, innocent Kiro, the sunlight casted on him, able to pierce through him completely, with rays of light refracting onto the floor. Actually, since a very long time ago, he no longer was a youth… But now, for her sake, he’s willing to become a youth again. -CN Youthhood Rumours and Secrets

The thing I like most about you is that you never admit defeat and you always stay positive. Every time I see you it's like you’re this brilliant sun and I feel charged of energy. Maybe all the lonely times I’ve been through... was so that I could meet you. -Confession Date

When they were younger, they were together as test subjects for evol. MC promised him donuts. He gave her a stuffed teddy bear. Kiro tried to help MC escape but they got caught and separated. They had spent quite some time together, so Kiro would be able to recognise MC once they had met again. Kiro had to replace another child for a top experiment, and the workers thought he’d die anyway as he was too weak. But still, he had survived and became the first and only successful subject. MC showed him that there was kindness- light- that still existed in the darkest of places. And in the darkest parts of his heart, there was MC to light those areas up for him :)

“Look, this world is so beautiful, and you don’t need to be afraid anymore.” But till now, he has yet to find her. But he remembers her eyes. And one day, he will find her within a vast sea of people.

Kiro remains speechless- quietly listening to the little girl speak. The little girl struggles to pull on his hand. Their fingers interlock together, the warmth from her palm gradually coursing into Kiro’s heart. “Don’t be afraid. I’ll protect you.” Kiro turns to look at her - to look at her perseverant brown eyes, looking at how the corners of her lips turn upwards. Kiro slowly learns how to curl the corners of his own lips from her. It’s the first smile to have appeared on his face. “This time, I’ll be the one protecting you.” Kiro says excitedly. He stands outside the airport, staring directly at the sun. “I’ll find you, and protect you. I even have a mountain of souvenirs stored in my luggage- I’ll give them to you! And my purest heart - I’ll give it to you too!” -CN Youthhood Rumours and Secrets

Helio’s Transformation

“Because only you can awaken me from darkness, no matter when.”

When Kiro transforms to Helios, it mainly affects his physical appearance. His hair grows longer and changes to colour, and his black (and super cool) NIRVANA tattoo appears. When he is weak, the tattoo fades (seen in Clinic Date.)

Nirvana- a transcendent state in which there is neither suffering, desire, nor sense of self, and the subject is released from the effects of karma and the cycle of death and rebirth. It represents the final goal of Buddhism.

I looked at his silver hair. It looked very natural with no signs of hair dye. In the serene moonlight, it was very beautiful. It wasn’t dyed, and it didn’t look like it turned silver because of an illness or something. -Chapter 17

Helios’s ring also plays part of his transformation. This is ultimately connected to BLACK CABIN and the 1908′s White House Explosion- when evol was born. From this high-dimensional space, Kiro is able to take on as Helios- who also known to be BS’s first generation of god. He can change upon his will, and influences from BLACK CABIN/QUEEN can cause him to lose control.

The golden hair mixed with the bright silver. He raised his finger, and the silver ring flashed. He muttered quietly, as if speaking to the ring and to himself. -Behind The Curtain Part 6: After Returning

Moonlight shone through the window, illuminating his silver hair with a golden glow for an instant. He buried his face in his right elbow, and large beads of sweat formed on his brow, as if a kind of uncanny transformation was occurring. “NOT NOW!!!” He howled hoarsely, his eyes now golden in the darkness. Residual power inside the Quarantine zone appeared to be affecting him. Violent forces jolted in the tiny space, and coursed through his obsidian ring. -Night Watchman Rumours and Secrets

Chapter 14

He turned and looked at me, his face a pallid white. His smile was still gentle. Suddenly, I felt intensely uneasy.

MC: “We’re going in, right?”

Kiro didn’t answer, his eyes intent on me gleamed with a flash of golden light above. When I looked carefully, I discovered his eyes turned into this exquisite gold like pure amber, or crystallised time.

Kiro: “I command you…”

I have never heard him sound like this before. Stiff, stern and solemn.

“All within my range of control belongs to me. Now walk onto the rooftop, lock the door, and don’t let anyone in… including me... Don’t be afraid. You’ll be okay. I said before, I will definitely succeed this time. I will always protect you.”

In saying this, he believes that his own sacrifices are necessary, no matter what the situation is. Kiro is willing to dim or even smother his own light and sun for MC to be safe and happy.

A black figure suspended in the air behind Kiro, just like scythe-toting Death himself… I seemed to see a golden-winged bird fly by, like a ray of light crossing the sky, leaving a temporary light trail in my vision.

“Death”, “golden-winged bird”, and “light”.

This sentence was highlighted in the chapters’ outline from the chapter contents. This implies the symbolism of the phoenix bird- the mythical bird that rises from the ashes and is reborn again. Kiro was captured by BLACK SWAN as punishment and had undergone modification- and was resurrected as Helios.

Chapter 17

He was standing in front of me. Half of his face was hidden in the shadows, but I could see the sharpness of his eyes and eyebrows. He took the notebook away from my hands before I could finish my sentence.

As MC gets tied to the table, flashbacks from suppressed memories emerge. We see Kiro and MC together being test subjects. (Fun fact- Kiro and MC’s blood type is O!)

White walls. A deserted lab. A cold med table. And a blond boy with agony in his face. Next to him lay a brown-haired girl who was unconscious. …Was that me? I looked at the blood pouring out from the IV. Tears came from my eyes. Kiro… Our lives were connected long before. But where are you now?

She finally realises that Kiro was that boy from the orphanage.

AND I JUST REALISED SOMETHING. HAS HELIOS NEVER OUTRIGHTLY ADMIT THAT HE’S NOT KIRO? LIKE HE NEVER SAID “NO”??

MC: Are you really not Kiro?

??: How long are you going to keep calling me by that wrong name?

(Yes, it’s technically the wrong name because right now he’s called Helios but he’s also technically still Kiro!)

He didn’t sound particularly annoyed, but I felt saddened.

MC: I…

I looked at his face. Every line, feature- they resembled Kiro, but at the same time wasn’t.

MC: I’m sorry… I must be wrong…

I hung my head low. His face may resemble him, but his expressions were so unlike Kiro and I didn’t want to see that.

But my intuition told me that my hunch was not wrong. If that was correct, then one of my paths was already sealed.

Helios: What makes you think that I wouldn’t? You already know where I’m from. Why are you being so naïve? I shook my head. MC: Kiro wouldn’t do this to me… An unknown emotion flashed in his eyes.

Poor Kiro, having to pretend to not know MC and act so cold towards her. It must have been incredibly hard and painful for the both of them. Please just LET THEM BE TOGETHER.

Kiro isn’t risking MC see this darker side of him. He truly doubted if anybody would accept him as Helios, because he was just so used it before as an idol having to act so perfect on screen, showing everybody what they wanted to see.

“MC. Step a meter away from him, and close your eyes.

The golden flashes in his pupils were the last thing I saw before I closed my eyes.

“I command you to forget what just happened. And I command you to forget about me. Remember, I’m just Helios.”

My memories were being erased bit by bit. Kiro was fading from my sight. His smiles, his eyes, his warmth… all of them became vague like a fog and disappeared. I tried my best to hold onto them, but it was all in useless.

Kiro… Even the name I tried to hold on till last was wrenched away from me. He watched silently as MC closed her eyes and blacked out in his arms.

“I’m sorry…”

He apologised again quietly. His eyes that once held warmth and brightness were again now filled with shadows.

“I will find the truth that you’re looking for. I don’t want you to bear that heavy burden. I’ll come back to you some day, but not today. Don’t remember my dark sides. In your eyes, I will always remain Kiro to you. After I take care of everything, things can go back the way they were between us. This time, I’ll make sure that you don’t have to wait long.”

“He looked a lot like Kiro. But it wasn’t him.”

In my palm was a small candy glistening in the sunlight. On impulse I unwrapped the paper and put it in my mouth.

MC: Apple flavour…

It somehow crossed my mind that it was Kiro’s type of flavour.

He wants MC to still have faith in him, and to trust in his abilities to protect her, as the candy is a motif for their relationship and exchange towards each other. (This was the same back in the orphanage when they were together too.) However, as his identity as Kiro, not the Helios she encountered. (Dramatic ironyyyy)

“We shall stand in darkness as we defend the light.”

Thorns Date

In the photo, Kiro looked completely different from what he usually looked like. On the glistening water, a youth held a birdcage, with a glint of melancholy in his drooping eyes. This was the last set of photos before quitting.

Kiro asked for my praise with shiny begging eyes, as if the prior sorrow and blue were all my illusions.

We stood very close to each other, yet at this moment, I felt there was a formed gap between us.

“MC, do you think the imprisoned bird can get out of the cage?”

There seemed to be a ray of golden light flashing through my mind but I couldn't catch it. (The thought that Helios came to see her?? Yes.)

I remember his distance, his apathy, yet puzzling familiarly.

Helios saw the magazine falling from my bag, his face flashing with complicated emotions I couldn’t comprehend. And I felt the familiar feeling of being touched deep in my soul.

“You like gazing at me a lot.”

Standing at the edge of the dark abyss, he opened his arms and leaned backward without hesitation. He fell straightly like a folded winged bird in the moment. (Similes, metaphors and symbolism galore!)

I sat on the ground limply and closed my eyes to avoid the dazzling light. This scene felt so familiar as I had experienced such a farewell.. Why?

My senses told me this man was Helios, yet the feelings from deep of my heart were so real.

“Helios! Do you… know how the imprisoned bird can get out of the cage?”

“Why do you think I will answer this question?” Behind such eyes, there seemed to be something else I couldn’t make out in the shadow.

I seemed to see him unfold a pair of black wings on his back and about to flutter away. No more cages could imprison him and nothing could make him stop. Helios walked from the bright light into the shadow.

He recalled her last question and her sad and confused eyes. Suddenly he recalled an ancient story. There was a kind of bird. It was always trapped in the thorns of fate from the moment of its birth. If the most beautiful thing was doomed to be exchanged with the deepest pain. He would overcome all obstacles to come back to her. And be her sun again.

The story that Helios recalled could be The Nightingale by Hans Christian Andersen.

In Ancient China, one of the forests lived a nightingale, who sang so beautifully everybody would stop and listen. The nightingale was renowned to be the best wonder out of all the things that the travellers abroad had ever seen. However, the Emperor of China didn’t know that such a bird existed, and demand to have it found.

The bird had come willingly to sing for the Emperor, singing so sweetly that tears came out of everybody’s eyes. The nightingale lived in the court thereafter, until one day the Emperor had received a mechanical copy of the bird, golden with precious gems and all. The nightingale had left, and all the courtiers had said that it was an ungrateful creature. It was therefore banished from the empire.

The mechanical bird had stopped working, only being able to play once every year. Five years had passed, and the Emperor fell ill that nobody expected him to live. Death had arrived to the Emperor as he prayed for the bird to sing a note. The living nightingale had appeared again, and had come to sing out of trust and hope for the Emperor. Death went to look at the Emperor’s renowned garden as the Emperor was thankful for the bird’s singing. She sang again, and the sun rose through the window and as everybody thought the Emperor had passed. The Emperor wanted the nightingale to stay by his side but it refused. It cannot live in the palace, but promised to visit the Emperor to sing to him.

Similar to Chapter 14, in this date, Kiro is represented as the bird, trapped in the cage. He had to release what everyone wanted him to be- Kiro, the shining sun/bird trapped in the cage under their control- ironic how his evol is absolute control because his charm would have drawn people this way in as a result. And the only way to be free was to be resurrected, to escape, to disappear from public view- to become free as Helios.

Light Pursuit Date

“Will you forget me?”

Kiro was becoming faint like a water mist. Panicking, I reached out to grab him but he slipped away from my fingers. An invisible wall had come between us and I couldn’t get close to him. This one step was like an unbridgeable gap between us, but it was like a line that we could never cross.

Will I forget Kiro? That sudden question in my head became clearer, and made me tremble in panic.

He had the name of a sun god, but even I couldn’t feel any bit of warmth.

MC: What is Helios here for?

Helios: We meet again, MC.

This was the first time that Helios called me by my name. He was brusque as ever, but there seemed to be a small amount of yearning in his voice. He did not act the way like the Helios that I used to know. His attitude and manners were surprisingly refined… like he was acting out a whole different persona.

The music changed into Por Una Cabeza- the tango song that I was very familiar with.

(I absolutely love the intertextuality that the game has. It’s a Spanish tango song that was also appeared in Scent of a Woman starring Al Pacino where the tango scene featured a blind man dancing with a woman who didn’t know how to dance and was scared of making mistakes. This correlates perfectly for MC and Helios. MC’s body is reacting to Helios as if he was Kiro...)

I didn’t drink, but I felt drunk somehow. Otherwise how else would this reachable warmth and illusion of intimacy familiar?

We were so close to each other, but the distance between us was only one step away, but a step we could never cross.

Helios looked up when he heard my voice. His eyes seemed to have trouble focusing. His blue eyes wavered like a lake sprinkling with sunlight. Surprisingly, there was sorrow, and naivety in those usually unfeeling eyes.

He lowered his head and his chin rested on my shoulder. I have never seen Helios so vulnerable. His hands were wrapped around my waist, leaving no space between us. Helios didn’t answer and continued to keep me pressed to his body. There was a deep aura of loneliness and bitterness about him that was barely discernible from his cold exterior.

Because to me, you were familiar to someone I deeply care about. Because my soul resonates when I am close to you. Because…. of a ridiculous assumption. Did I reach the edge of truth? Or was I just deceiving myself? A thick fog was obscuring me from seeing the truth clearly. I didn’t continue talking or thinking. MaybeI was so vaguely aware that this was the closest I could get to him. Only one step away but a distance I could never close.

MC is also scared. She’s in turmoil. She wants to know the truth but she’s also sitting on the fence with it. Especially due to the memory wipe. It’s like, “maybe it’s better if I don’t,” and “I think you are that someone I care so much about but I can’t be sure about it because even if I ask you, you won’t tell me, and I don’t know what to do.”

Stardust Date

Kiro: That’s right. I’m going to a far, far place. And I will stay there for a very long, long time. Don’t cry when you start missing me. MC: I’m not going to cry!

Kiro: But I will. So promise me, alright? Don’t forget me, even if I leave.

Two days afterwards, I heard him talk to someone on the phone. I’m pretty sure it was his voice, but it sounded like he was a completely different person.

What was he trying to hide? Did it have anything to do with his “leaving”? Was it out of his own will or was he involved in something under duress?

The confident smile on his face as he glided his fingers across the keys fluently, showed his passion for this show. As songs were played after another, he became more focused. I could tell from his expression that he was fully immersed in this performance. As long as he was given a stage and music, he’d become the centre of attention no matter what position he was in. However, the more passion I saw, the more I was scared for his “leaving”. He is the sun- what will happen to his supporters when they lose him? And what about me? What will happen to me?

Light and Shadow Phone Call

MC: Is that melancholy in your voice? It’s unlike you to be down like this.

Kiro: Really? Does everyone think I’m that shallow?

MC: Of course not. But you are the brightest and warmest sun, so it’s easy to be touched by your optimistic side first.

Kiro: But right now, the sunlight is getting too strong that it’s scorching…

MC: Hmm? Is it? right now it’s sunset where you are?

Kiro: Yes. I’m sitting atop of Namibia’s Dune 45 and everything is red. Even the sun is sinking low.

MC: Soon, it will sink beyond the horizon.

Kiro: Yes… Miss Chips, Since you say I’m like the sun, and the sun eventually sets...

Kiro: If I have a dark side, I should hide it from others, right?

MC: Why should you hide it?

Kiro: Because, I don’t want to show you and I don’t want to disappoint others.

MC: But you’re just you, Kiro.

Kiro: I am who I am?

MC: Yes. Why can’t a sun have shadows? Even the real sun has sunspots! People who really care for you will love both the warm sunny side and the occasional dark, depressed side.

Kiro: But I always feel...

MC: Everyone has a side they want to hide in the shadows. No one is expected to be required as perfect. That applies to my little sun as well.

Kiro: Can I really be imperfect?

MC: Absolutely. To me, all sides of you are worth cherishing.

Kiro: Thank you, MC.

MC: What’s there to thank?

Kiro: Because… only you are willing to see the weak and plain side that I’m hiding and accept both my light and my shadow.

MC: That’s why I’m your own personal tree hole! I’ll keep your sorrows tucked away for you!

Kiro: Thank you Miss Tree Hole. I’m so lucky to have you. In fact, you are my sun who gives me light to embrace the world every morning. Thank you, for always being there by my side.

This call is so significant for Kiro, and his battle between light and dark. After his evol went out of control, he’s afraid of hurting his fans and MC. Similes and metaphors are used to compare his evol/different personas as the sun and how it will soon go down. He confronts the truth that he will also have to leave the public view soon, and uses this opportunity of the call to confirm what MC thinks if he had imperfections/shadow sides. And of course, to thank her before he leaves.

Chapter 21 (Winter World)

He was so fast that his moves were a blur. He dodged every attack and landed his own with grace and strength. It was like watching a silver moonlight dancing in flowing moves.

“You seem to be completely ignorant about how weak you are.”

I was trapped in a little cage he made with his body against the wall. The cruelty in his face crumbled the last of my shields. he didn’t stop there. He leaned in with his whole body hemming me into the confined space he created.

Helios: Weaklings should learn to survive on their own. No one will teach you that.

MC: I don’t want to be a weakling forever.

Helios: Then you better figure out how to become stronger.

He dropped his sarcastic tone. Instead, each syllable fell from his mouth with upmost earnestness.

Helios: Use all your strength. Every method you can think of. Abandon your past...even abandon yourself. If you can’t do that, then just go back tot the world you came from.

1562 clutched tightly on his friend’s blanket, refusing to let go. However, in the end, he was shoved onto the ground because his strength was too weak. He had collided so hard that he couldn’t get up for a long while. -CN Top Experimental Subject Rumours and Secrets

If MC hadn’t come, then there would be no real sun in his life. He would only have artificial light. And he would be right- Helios would be just Helios. He wouldn’t bother much about fans or music, but using this identity to climb the system. He had to learn the hard way on how to survive. Nobody was there for him, thus it would be harder for him to feel empathy towards others in situations other than this.

The sun had risen completely. The increasing bright light drowned everything that belonged in the darkness. Helios remembered that day a long time ago. In the darkness, the withered hand touched his head and said faintly, “become Kiro, be the so-called “sun”.

At that time, he had lowered his eyes, nodded blankly, and simply walked out into the night, emitting a false light that was not his own. But today… Helios looked off into the distance, and seeing the dazzling morning light, he remembered the girl… At that moment, he saw the real sun. -Between Light and Darkness Rumours and Secrets

From “Behind The Curtain”, MC fell into the space-time gap and was saved by Helios. Even though he couldn’t see her as they were in different dimensions, she could be influenced by him. This wasn’t the first time that he’s tugged on that bond tying them together to BLACK CABIN. Thank you Helios also for helping bring MC back to her original world.

Chapter 28

Kiro: You should know about everything that I’ve done.

MC: I know that... you’re Helios.

Kiro’s eyes flickered and blinked at me. The golden hair under the now eclipsed sunlight seem to have an extra glow to it. Kiro: Is my name really that important?

MC: Why did you hide it from me? I trusted that you would tell me. That no matter what name you had, you really wouldn’t change...

Kiro: If a superhero were to turn into an arch-villain, would those who always believed in him lose hope? What he want most is for you to be a fairy, free of all cares. Not getting hurt, not getting worries, whose only responsibility is receiving signals and joy and happiness.

Kiro: However, if she is determined to go do something difficult, and she wants to bear this burden on her own... then I wish for her to be a little superhero, who can fly through it all with ease.

Chapter 29

“Don’t get all angry. The person beside you didn't even notice any difference between us. Or put it another way, it seems that “you” aren’t important in this role that you’re playing. Anybody can replace you.” -Anole

Anole is wrong (and just jealous). MC did notice, and plus, he probably wouldn’t have survived in the top experiment that Kiro had undergone in the orphanage. That was something only Kiro would have survived, with his willpower and determination in his heart to make a better life for himself and MC- something that Anole clearly lacks.

I had never seen Helios laugh before. His smile wasn't as dazzling as his golden-haired counterpart’s, but one could say that if the former him was the sun, then his smile was now a gentle moon.

THE IRONYYY. Helios is finally okay with showing this side of him to her, from watching her go through trials and tribulations in the Winter World with the other Helios- of course he wouldn’t want any danger to be near MC, but knowing that she can handle anything after all that she went through, he now knows that it’s better for her to be with him instead. Also he learnt how to smile from her and now he’s smiling again as Helios and I’m just so happy

Whether in the face of violent, nefarious enemies or a wave of blood and bullets, he’d never shown any fear. I got the feeling that he was somehow nervous, or even afraid. Was it because he had to return into the spotlight, back the shower of roses and applause?

Well… when he decided to give all that up and step into the darkness with no turning back, what was he thinking then?

He leaned on the wall and rested awhile, staring intently at the black tattoo on his right arm… he looked at himself in the mirror. His silver strands of hair were tingled with gold, as if bathed in sunlight. And for only that one time, he didn’t avert his gaze from the desire in his eyes. It was like looking at a self portrait—so distant, yet so familiar. It was only now that he realised: this was the moment in his life most worth reliving. Once again, he had become Kiro.

In the PV/Karma (photo down below), we see him wearing black- not as Helios but as Kiro! Again, ironic how he’s holding a comeback concert he’s wearing black, a colour that represents darkness and shadows. It had been noted in the Snooper Rumours and Secrets that this is way out of Kiro’s style wardrobe. However, this signifies a range of things. The two personas are “merging” as he no longer hides this persona to MC- they’re one in the same. It has always been this way and will never change. The colour black also means power and authority, but can mean fear and grief. This is the same outfit when Kiro was doubting himself in the Light Pursuit Date as well.

Right now, if we’re talking moon phases, Kiro right now is in “the void”. Meaning he’s “nowhere”. He’s Kiro but he’s also operating as Helios. He feels nervous to go back but it does come so natural for him to be in the spotlight. He feels stuck at crossroads with himself, especially when he got forced back to perform by Anole.

Ultimately, it’s like he’s saying “no matter what becomes of me, I will always stay true to you.” And I think this is perfectly translated as Kiro says,

“Miss Chips, wait for me.”

(”Wait for me as I fight for us both. So you don’t have to suffer.”) But we suffer either way.

His light and sun has always come from MC. He will always keep running towards his sun, no matter which persona he embodies. This, we can be certain on. (New Season 2 Chapters please don’t oppose this LOL.)

“I await you at the end of the opposite path.”

#26 pages long #I actually love his voice so much #mlqc #mlqc kiro #mlqc helios #helios #mr love queens choice #love and producer #mlqc cn #mlqc en #恋与制作人 #mlqc analysis #mlqc translation #mlqc zhou qiluo #zhou qilou #kiro #mlqc spoilers

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phykios · 3 years

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honesty and promise me, part 5 [co-written with @darkmagyk] [read on ao3]

Annabeth is making her periodic pilgrimage to the gynecologist when she gets Leo's call. It's very fitting--two uncomfortable and invasive things for the price of one. She answers her phone, ignoring the doctor's chastising frown. Surely she can place her new IUD while Annabeth deals with whatever Leo wants.

"What are you doing on the 18th?" he asks, about the only type of hello she ever gets from Leo.

The two of them never really grew out of pretending not to like each other, after they had gotten over their initial dislike. When he and Piper first got to Miss Minerva's, more or less straight out of juvie after Piper's dad made a lot of calls and called in a lot of favors, she and Leo had really hated each other. They used to fight over everything, from Piper's attention to the position of captain of the Mathletes team. And also, over Leo hating a rich white girl on principle, which, in retrospect, is totally fair. But then, by a weird twist of fate, they wound up in Boston together.

If Annabeth had to choose between hanging out with her creepy, Norse mythology-obsessed uncle and hanging out with Leo, she'd pick Leo every time. They had gone through a lot together, things both big and small.

"Of August?" she asks.

"Please be still, Ms. Chase," says her doctor. Annabeth rolls her eyes.

"Duh."

Wracking her thoughts she can't think of any prior commitments she might have had. Maybe there's a concert that day, but if she can't remember, it probably wasn't that important anyway. "Not much."

"Good, because we have plans."

She frowns. "Piper didn't mention any--"

"No, you and I have plans. I'll see you in Philly, yeah?"

Philadelphia? Ew. "Why Philly?"

"Our Smarter House thing won an award."

"No shit?"

"Eta Industries Award. The gala is on the 18th. You're my plus one."

She sucks in air through her teeth, readjusting her hips as unobtrusively as possible. Eta Industries was… a very big deal. "Isn't that, like, an engineering specific award? Maybe you should accept it by yourself." She'd be better off staying out of the limelight for this one, she thinks, even as some part of her longs once again for recognition.

Something electric whirs in the background, tinny and buzzing. "I'll see you on the 18th, then," says Leo, not having heard a word she said. "Also, you've been summoned to the castle."

"Leo--" she jumps as the gyno touches something she really shouldn't have.

"No arguments, she's expecting you today at two. Adios!" He clicks off.

"Okay, Ms. Chase," says the doctor, a little too chipper for Annabeth's taste. "You should be all set."

Annabeth leaves the doctor's office with her brand new IUD, a handful of medical literature which immediately gets tossed in the trash, and a sinking feeling in her gut as she gets on a train to Brooklyn, headed to Piper's place for another annoying and unnecessary fashion show. It's not that she doesn't enjoy being Piper's model--it's a position she's held since their time at Miss Minerva's, and it's never really a hardship to be told how gorgeous she is--but Piper has a way of just... getting information out of her that she doesn’t always want to share.

Stopping off early, Annabeth gives herself a moment to walk down the Brooklyn Heights Promenade, to settle her nerves and indulge herself a bit. That skyline gets her every time.

Turning down Pierrepont Street, she is once again struck by just how quiet the city can be. Manhattan is loud, rude, in-your-face, almost an entirely different world from the stately, deafeningly silent Brooklyn. For Annabeth, who is incapable of falling asleep without city horns blaring, it wigs her out a little.

She barely has time to ring the doorbell on Piper's dad's place before the girl herself wrenches it open, grabbing Annabeth's hand and yanking her inside. "You're late!" she trills, suffering what Annabeth can only assume is the onset of a caffeine overdose.

"I thought I had until two."

"That was before I had the best idea."

The brownstone is a mess, as per usual, reams of fabric tossed over every available surface, enough dressforms strewn about to make it look like Piper is hosting a party exclusively populated by headless zombies, adorned with a warehouse's worth of half-finished dresses and jackets. Based on the loud fabrics and structured angles, it looks like Piper is in the middle of a Klimt-ian phase of inspiration. Annabeth eyes a bright gold gown with a huge, extended collar, embroidered with silver eyes, the raw edges trailing the floor. "Please tell me this isn't your idea."

"First of all," Piper releases her arm as they enter her kitchen-turned-photo studio, gingerly stepping over a box of assorted beads, "even though it would look amazing on you, that dress is for an actual paying client. Second of all--" she snatches up a dressform from its position behind the camera, setting it down in front of her with a flourish. "This is my idea."

Annabeth was right--Piper is definitely on a Klimt-ian kick.

Pulled straight from her art history classes, the dress looks like a two dimensional painting come to life, a stunning skirt like a column of liquid silver descending onto the black mat, pleats like fluted columns precisely draped over the dressform's hips… and not much else. Annabeth points. “Is that it?”

Piper makes a face. "I have a bodice, promise. Now go take that shit off."

Annabeth looks down at her repurposed The Police shirt, fished out of a thrift store bin some months ago, shirt collar cut and sides resewn to bring the waistline in. "I like this shirt."

"Oh, I like the shirt plenty," she agrees. "But you could stand to wear a nicer pair of jeans."

She does have a point there--her jeans are clinging to life at this point, the knees and hems all but obliterated, strings of fabric valiantly attempting to hold their original shape. "Fine. Be right back."

When she emerges from the bathroom a minute later in just her bra and panties, Piper has laid out another bolt of fabric in that same color, silver with a blue shift beneath the studio lights. Piper, bent over with a strip of measuring tape, looks up at her, then squints. "So who is he?"

Annabeth starts. "Excuse me?"

"The guy you've been seeing."

How... the fuck does Piper always know these things? "I don't know what you're talking about."

She flicks her eyes down to Annabeth's thigh, Annabeth following her gaze to the remnants of the bruise that Percy had left there with his mouth two days ago. Dammit.

Piper tsks, a smile distorting the sound. "Naughty, naughty, Annabeth."

"How do you know it wasn't from a girl?" she asks, petulant.

"Because if it had been a girl, you wouldn't be nearly so defensive."

Shit. "We've been friends way too long," Annabeth grumbles.

"That we have," says Piper. "And out of respect for our friendship, I will refrain from grilling you about him until you are more comfortable sharing."

"So, for a few hours?"

She shrugs. "More or less."

"I suppose you want me to thank you for holding back."

"Don't thank me yet," she grins, wide and toothy. "I've been cooped up here working on my collection for three days, and I am dying to talk to someone."

Annabeth sighs, but obediently raises her arms, making room as Piper crouches down to pin the skirt on her. "Okay, you got me. I'm seeing this guy."

"Seeing or seeing-seeing?"

"Just seeing," she clarifies. "It's pretty casual."

"Can't be that casual if you're telling me about it," Piper points out.

Fuck. This is why she never tells Piper about her hookups. "You're the one who asked."

"Another business bro, I assume?"

"He's--" Piper swats at her as she automatically sucks her stomach in, their long held code for "stay put." "He's a dancer."

She hums, arranging pleats over Annabeth's knees. "Like on Broadway?"

"Ballet."

Piper glances up at her, eyes sparkling. “Un danseur! Ooh la la,” she trills. “What’s his name?”

“I can just leave,” Annabeth says, distinctly not thinking about how Percy will occasionally slip into French whenever he stubs his toe.

“Okay, okay, no more boy talk.” Piper moves in front of her, adjusting the fabric about her waist. “Tell me about the thing you just won with Leo.”

“I had honestly forgotten about it,” she says, lying a little, pulling her arms forward. “You remember his master’s thesis?”

“The shmart kishen thing, right?” Piper asks around the tape measure in her mouth.

Leo, the prodigal boy that he is, had spent his last year of school dedicated to a singular problem faced by people around the world: the sudden, out of control kitchen fire. Using very complicated electronics and engineering that Annabeth does not understand, he devised a handful of mechanisms to sense, contain, and ultimately douse random fires as soon as they popped up. Annabeth came on as his design partner after he had graduated and had gotten some funding to conceptualize an entire safe house.

“Well, it just won an Eta Industries award.”

Her head snaps up, hands freezing in their tracks. “Holy shit.”

“Yeah.”

“Congrats.”

“Thanks,” she shrugs as Piper gets up to grab some more fabric. “I mean, it was mostly Leo’s doing. I just made sure he didn’t leave any stray pipes around.”

Holding out her arms again, Piper slides them through the sleeves of a heavy, corset-like piece, structured and straight and very forgiving on Annabeth’s lack of curves. “You shouldn’t sell yourself short,” she says. “I’m sure your skills as a guinea pig were very valuable.”

“Are you ever going to let that go?” Annabeth asks, she who has literally burnt pasta while it was submerged in water.

“You’re just lucky my dad was out of town that weekend. Have you decided what you’re going to wear to the awards ceremony?”

She shoots her friend a strange look. “I thought I was wearing this?” she gestures to the unfinished silver gown currently making her feel like an absolute goddess.

Piper makes a face. “What do I look like, the fucking Flash? This isn’t going to be ready for another thirty hours, at least. I’ve got decals to add, Swarovskis to bead, not to mention all the hand-stitching on the neckline because for whatever reason my machine has decided to hate me this week.”

“Okay, well,” says Annabeth, appropriately cowed, “then I guess I’ll wear the black one you gave me.”

“2019 fall/winter?”

Annabeth nods.

“Styling?”

“Luke gave me this really nice scarf for my birthday.”

Throwing her head back, she groans.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“You’re so boring,” she moans, pulling Annabeth’s hair out of the way. “Let me guess, you’re going to pair it with the black shrug and opaque nude tights.”

“Well… yeah, I was.”

“Exactly! Boring.” Coming back around, she pushes Annabeth lightly into the light, before taking her place behind the camera. “You could do so much with that dress and you choose to make it boring. Why not some fishnets? Or a big statement necklace?”

Annabeth waits after a few shutter clicks to answer. “Because I doubt that the people at Eta Industries are going to be big fans of my tattoos.”

“That is a bald-faced lie and you know it,” Piper says. “Your tattoos and piercings are gorgeous and you would look absolutely rocking with them. Knock all the old farts right off their feet. Turn.”

Obediently, Annabeth rotates, letting Piper snap off as many pictures as she likes. “This isn’t a Vogue event, Pipes,” she says, rolling her eyes where her friend can’t see them. “Punk isn’t exactly accepted practice yet.”

“Punk was the Met Gala theme almost a decade ago, babe. It has filtered down from Vogue. It's practically cerulean now. Side.”

Annabeth turns again, keeping her eyes straight. Side-eye would ruin the shot, no matter how much she wants to give it.

“I will never understand why you both refuse to wear halfway decent jeans and then refuse to go guns out in my dresses that demand it. I can almost guarantee you that Leo will show up in those stupid suspenders with grease on his face. And you’ll have to get him to leave his tool belt in the car.”

“Then it’s probably for the best that I have a modicum of professionalism, huh?”

Piper leans out from behind the camera, glaring. “At the very least,” she hedges, “will you let me set you up with some shoes?”

“I don’t know…”

“You are not allowed to wear those horrid Manolo pumps you wear everywhere. And your nude Louboutins won’t look right with the black.”

“What did you have in mind?”

Piper’s grin is evil, and the way she scampers out of the room means she’s got something she’d been trying to force on Annabeth for a long time.

Five minutes later, Annabeth is presented with a set of black strappy sandals, its edges detailed in a gold zipper, with safety pin pull to match. She frowns. “Are you sure? They look kind of… hardcore for something like this.”

“They’re Versace,” Piper says. “I was not lying about punk’s democratization.”

Well. They are pretty cool.

“It’s either this or the McQueen boots. They have studs.”

Annabeth sighs, holding out her hand. Piper squeals, bouncing a little, wrapping her in a brief, but exuberant hug, kissing her cheek with a loud, wet, smack. “You’re the best!”

“I haven’t even done anything.”

“I am saving up favors to cash in. Now,” she releases Annabeth, retreating behind the camera. “If you’ve got some time, can I borrow your head? I’m working on a helmet and all my mannequins are busy.”

***

“Hey,” Percy begins. It is so late at night, the dawn is on the edge of breaking, and they are both exhausted from some particularly good sex. Which is saying something, because all their sex is particularly good. “You doing anything on the 18th?”

“Yeah,” She says, distractedly, snuggling down into his bed. The fact that she’s also snuggling into him is just a coincidence.

“Oh.”

“Why?”

“Nothing. Was going to invite you to a thing if you weren’t.” She nods her head against his shoulder and falls asleep in his arms, thinking absolutely nothing about it.

She continues to think nothing of it on the train to Philadelphia on the 18th, half-asleep and listening to Paramore to pass the time, blasting Misery Business on repeat as she changes in her hotel room.

The Eta Industries event is pretty much exactly what she expected: a lot of old rich white people milling about, sipping champagne and verbally circle jerking each other, the insipid strains of classical music spilling out of the ballroom as Annabeth steps up to claim her name tag. “Name?” asks the young, college-aged girl, skimming her printed guest list over the rim of her glasses.

“Annabeth Chase.”

She runs a long fingernail over the assorted collection of name tags, before settling on the correct one, handing it to Annabeth, her star tattoo on the inside of her wrist free and open to anyone who would care to look. “Here you are, Ms. Chase,” she says, smiling. “Have a wonderful night!”

Automatically, Annabeth goes to pin it on Luke’s scarf, before she remembers that something is already occupying that place--Percy’s Acropolis pin. She had taken to keeping it in her pocket these days, something of a good luck charm, and thought that it might… she doesn’t know, maybe send a subconscious signal to Percy that she’s thinking of him. Even though there is, quite literally, no way he could know, she hopes that maybe he can sense it, and that maybe he’s thinking about her, too.

Ugh. She snatches up a flute of champagne from a wandering waiter, eager to get that thought out of her head, making a beeline straight for the refreshments table. It’s there that Leo finds her, not five minutes later, munching on some chocolate covered strawberries.

“And here I thought you might ditch me entirely,” he says, even as he bumps her shoulder. True to form, he is absolutely, 100% dressed in those stupid suspenders, a smudge of grease behind his ear.

“You’ve got a…” Annabeth trails off, motioning behind her own ear.

“Huh? Oh!” He snatches up a napkin, rubbing discreetly. “Thanks.”

She squints. Something about him is distinctly different. “Are you taller?”

Kicking out a foot, he wiggles it, triumphant. “Platform shoes.”

“Seriously?”

“Hey, if they're good enough for Robert Downey Jr., then they’re good enough for me. After all, I am Ir--”

She groans, good-natured, taking another gulp of champagne. “If you quote Marvel in your speech, I’m leaving.”

“Fine by me, Your Highness, they’ll give me the award either way.”

“Excuse me, Mr. Valdez?” The same college girl from before sidles up to them, clipboard clutched in her hand. “They’re about to start.”

He claps his hands, rubbing them together. “Excellent. You coming?”

“I…” She casts her gaze to the makeshift stage they’ve constructed, eyeing the bright “Eta Industries” placard, the sharp angles shiny and alluring, the siren-song of recognition.

This is a big deal. There are photographers in the audience. In the write-ups and reviews, she would be listed as a co-winner of the award, a co-designer of the world’s safest house, a thought so happy she practically starts flying.

“I think I should stay out of the limelight for this one, Leo,” she says, politely. “This is your moment. I don’t want to ruin it.”

He frowns. “You sure?”

Were it not for the fact that people were watching, Annabeth would have leapt up onto that stage without a second thought, snatching up the trophy like she had just won the Oscar, holding it up like the goddamn Olympic torch. “What, you want a white woman stealing your glory?” she says instead, arching a brow.

“You get a pass this one time,” he quips, holding out his hand. “Don’t make me regret it.”

Whatever social grace she has left crumbles. She’s denied it enough--she wants to be up there. “Oh, fine. Since you insist,” she says, following clipboard-girl to the stage.

There’s a quick burst of feedback, then an elderly gentleman at the podium begins speaking into the mic. “Excuse me--sorry about that. Yes, yes, thank you all for coming tonight to the annual Eta Industries awards presentation ceremony. It is always such a pleasure to come together with our hard-working and generous board members and shareholders to honor the best and brightest upcoming talent in engineering.”

Internally, she rolls her eyes. Rich people.

“It is my pleasure, however, to introduce the young man who is the recipient of this year’s Millennium Prize for innovation and safety. One of MIT’s youngest and most decorated graduates, he was a recipient of the Mead Prize for Students, the Friedman Young Engineer Award, and the Collingwood Prize, among several others. His master’s thesis, ‘Towards the Design and Implementation of Autonomous Safety Measures in Commercial Kitchens,’ formed the basis of the project which we recognize tonight, the so-called ‘SmartSafe House,’ reflects the pioneering spirit and outstanding creative vision of not only Eta Industries, but also the field of engineering as a whole. Please join me in congratulating this year’s Millennium Prize recipient, Leo Valdez.”

From the sidelines, she claps enthusiastically with the rest of the crowd as her friend takes the stage, shakes hands with the Vice President of Eta Industries, and accepts the award, a blue, blocky triangle which almost seems to glow in the light of the ballroom. “Thank you, Mr. Helms. This is--this is a really big honor.”

She can see him shaking a bit, taking a quick drink from his water glass. Public speaking was never really his strong suit.

“As--as a lot of you probably know, this project is very near and dear to my heart. Growing up in Houston with my mother, a car mechanic, I was eight years old when her beloved shop went up in flames, like that.” He snaps his fingers, his other hand pressed to the podium where no one can see, joints white with pressure. Annabeth is proud of him--he hasn’t been able to speak this candidly about it in years. She knows firsthand how much his mother’s near-death haunts him still. “Thankfully, we were able to rebuild, and my mother went on to bigger and better things--including a shop with cleaner vents. But I can definitely pinpoint that moment as the day I knew I wanted to make the world a safer place, for my mom, if not for everyone else.”

She remembers, so clearly, that snowy night in the dorms at Miss Minerva’s. The power had gone out, and Leo had made them an illicit campfire out of their trash bin and Annabeth’s failed English exam. Cold and miserable and with dying phones, they passed the time instead telling scary stories and funny memories, until the conversation had gotten suddenly, intensely real.

“But I would be remiss,” he goes on, cheerful, “if I didn’t acknowledge my friend and collaborator, without whose work I wouldn’t be here today: Annabeth Chase,” he waves to his side, indicating her. The whole crowd, as one, turns their gazes on her. She straightens up, imperceptibly, hoping she doesn’t look too haughty or anything. “I’ve never been very good with people. My mama says I’m just like my dad that way. Give me a car, or a computer, or pages of multiplication tables, and I’m golden. But people?” He blows out a breath, and the crowd chuckles, naturally. “Now, if it had been left up to me, the SmartSafe House would have been a top of the line, cutting-edge metal box, efficient to a fault, but completely unlivable. Thank God I had Annabeth on my team to remind me what the project was really about: a home that families could feel safe in, so that what happened to me and my mom might never happen to anyone else.” He hoists his award above his head, leaning into the mic. “Ma, este es para ti. Thank you all.”

Stepping down from the stage, they reenter the crowd, ready to receive adoration. In another life, she might have been embarrassed by such praise. Here and now, however, she takes each handshake and word of congratulations like a starving man in a desert who just came across an oasis, hungry and greedy.

Hey, it’s her night, too.

After what feels like a whole-ass sixty minutes of shaking old people's hands and polite nodding, though, she is in desperate need of a break. Escaping the throng of mingling bodies, she darts into a dark corner of the ballroom, leaning against the back of a rounded stone column, just barely out of sight of the party.

Rubbing her hands over her face, she sighs, just short of a scream. Blowing out all her air, she lets the faint music and fake laughs melt into each other, becoming white noise, a blank canvas, empty of concrete thoughts and feelings.

Then, her ear picks up a strand of conversation.

“...announcing tomorrow that the CEO of Pallas Inc. is choosing a successor,” a woman says, the sneer in her voice almost visible. “About time.”

“I thought she already picked a successor,” says the woman’s conversation partner, a man with the kind of cookie-cutter cadence that she heard every time she took a business major to bed. “Pallas is a family business, isn’t it?”

“You haven’t heard?” Annabeth can almost picture it, the furtive glance around the room, the woman placing her hand on her partner’s arm, leaning in to share a juicy secret. “Supposedly she was grooming her daughter for the role, before she went in for rehab.”

“Rehab? Really?”

“What else could it be?” says the woman. “She’s disappeared off the face of the earth, and her mother refuses to talk about her. Let’s be honest, if she were dead, she would have raised a bigger stink about it.”

Annabeth closes her eyes, sucking air in through her teeth. That… wasn’t totally untrue.

But the woman doesn’t stop. “It’s always the same story,” she scoffs. “You throw countless hours of schooling and millions of dollars into girls like her, and what do they do? Turn around and blow it all on drugs and partying. Honestly, she should be grateful her mother is even bothering with her rehab at all. Hasn’t she wasted enough of the family’s money already?”

Blood roars in her ears, drowning out the fancy party. Sharp points dig into her palm, pinpricks of pain, before she realizes that they’re her own fingernails.

The lady has got it all wrong. Her mom couldn’t even be bothered with that.

Luke’s scarf, the shrug, it’s choking her, suffocating and constricting. Percy’s pin feels heavy on her chest.

Blinders on, she would have sprinted for the exit were it not for the Piper’s stupid Versace heels, reduced instead to a teetering, tottering wreck, like a baby colt running from a predator. The night is hot and humid, heavy with the threat of rain, and Annabeth can barely breathe, dark spots in her eyes, until she ducks into a nearby Target, the frigid blast of air a welcome distraction.

Almost in a daze, she watches herself pick up a few things--clippers, an electric razor, beef jerky, a blue Gatorade she considers for a moment before putting it back, choosing a lemonade instead--practically throwing them at the poor cashier who begins checking her out, mechanically. He doesn’t spare her a single glance for her odd assortment of items. He doesn’t even look at her at all.

The walk to her hotel room disappears in the blink of an eye. Blink--she breezes past the check-in counter, slipping into the empty elevator. Blink--she kicks off her heels in her room, nearly hitting the wall mirror, leaving a scuff mark on the white plaster. Blink--she’s down to her underwear and tights in the bathroom, shaving the right side of her curls clean off. She’d gotten them professionally done for the night, perfect spirals held together by expensive products. And now she wants them gone.

She pauses and breathes too hard, looking at herself in the mirror. Her mother didn’t like that she was blonde. Maybe because of dumb blonde stereotypes, maybe just because it reminded Athena too much of her failed romance with Annabeth’s dad. And that thought stays her hand from getting rid of the rest of them.

That, and maybe the idea of Percy, of some broke dancer, tangling his fingers in it as they lie together.

Fuck her mother, and the fucking stories she tells.

She likes it. She likes her blonde hair and her fresh undercut.

She can get Thalia to touch this up later, maybe. Now, though, she needs this.

It doesn’t look perfect. The left side of hair is too long, her gold laurel earrings too fancy for a homegrown haircut like this, her makeup too pristine. Shoving her hand under the running water, she rubs at her eyes, mascara and eyeliner smearing until they’ve reached something much more respectable for the failure that she really is.

She misses her industrial. And her eyebrow rings. And the tongue piercing. But this will have to do for now.

Breathing heavily, eyes hot, she doesn’t register her phone blinking, signaling an unread text message.

It’s from Thalia. surprised you weren’t at kelp heads bday party, it reads. was pretty boring. Kno he missed you

#backstory backstory backstoryyyyyyy #my fic #percabeth #pjo #the rivalry ends here #darkmagyk #perseannabeth #ballet au

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ordinaryunordinary · 3 years

Text

Ć̶͚̱͎͉̘̻̭̀̃̇̃h̷̨̛̦̩͇̠̙̜̟̙̮́̈́̔̓͜ä̴͙͕̞̳̪͉͈́́̈́͐́̈́̚n̵̠̖̘̉̋̎͑g̷̢̯̤̥͎͙̥̲̙̓̆̄͊̋͒̾̐͛̈́͝͝ë̶͚̱͙̰͇̜̭̭̤̭́̎̐̽̌͑̅̈́͌̈́̚͠ͅ

Experiment Zero was a success

Words: 5737

CW: implied torture, manipulation, violence, brain fuckery, they messed him up…that’s all I gotta say

For the most part, it was dark. It was also wet, what exact liquid that was though was uncertain. There were very few things he was certain of at the moment.

That it was dark, wet, and cold.

He was also certain that he was very sweaty and that it was hard to breathe. He was certain that his arms had been bound behind him by something very heavy and that same heavy object was also around his ankles and his neck. There was also something heavy covering his eyes, though it wasn’t as cold and hard as the ones arm his arms.

However, there were many things he was uncertain of. He was uncertain of where he was and who he was. He was uncertain of how he’d gotten here or when he’d gotten here and how long he had been here.

What he knew at the moment though, was how the constant ringing in his ears had stopped and a loud creaking had filled its place. There was also a small clicking noise that grew in volume as the seconds passed by.

“Get up.” He flinched, hearing such a gruff voice or just a voice in general in such a long time. When was the last time he heard a voice, when was the last time he heard his own voice? Did he even have a voice? The last sound he remembered hearing in this place was a high pitched giggle, if it could even be described as such.

Alas, he didn’t have much time to mull over it any longer before he felt that heavy weight lifted from his arms, legs, and from his neck.

“Get up,” demanded the voice once more. Hilarious, did the voice actually expect him to move in his state? He didn’t actually know what state he was in though, he was in pain. His limbs were sore where the weight had been, but there was also a constant ache going all throughout his body. If he managed to stand up, he wouldn’t make it a step before he collapsed once again.

He heard a sigh before he was roughly grabbed and pulled to his feet. As expected, he immediately wobbled and almost came crashing down if it weren’t for the sturdy arms holding him up. “Pathetic, to think someone like you was capable of evading us eleven times.” He didn’t know what the person was talking about, so there was no use thinking about it.

“The boss wants to see you,” he was addressed once more before he felt them moving. He tried to take a step, to walk along the person rather than drug behind them, but once enough pressure was added to his ankles he felt a burning sensation shooting up his legs. Giving up, he allowed himself to be pulled behind the person.

There was a slight shift in light, whatever was over his eyes was doing a good job of obstructing his vision, but he could assume that a light had been turned on in the place he was in. He staggered wherever the person was dragging him until they came to an abrupt stop and he felt himself fall to his knees. Clearly the person he was following had let go of him and scoffed watching him collapse into a heap of weak bones once again.

“Here he is ma’am.” Ma’am? So now he could assume that there were two people in the room. One being the man, he assumed who dragged him in, and another being the woman that he addressed.

“Good,” he felt a chill run through his bones at the smooth voice that rang through his ears. It wasn’t like the gruff voice of the man that he had heard so many times. And though he couldn’t quite remember who the man was, his body could definitely remember what he had done.

There was a small clicking noice that grew in volume before the blindfold over his eyes was torn away. His eyes slammed shut after a flash of bright light filled his voice and he held in a whimper to keep some of his dignity. He wanted to reach up to cover his eyes once again but his hands were blocked by a firm grip that held his face.

“Pathetic, you can’t even open your eyes.” Pathetic, he had heard that word several times today, maybe that was his name, or at least a name they were going to call him. “I myself am embarrassed that it took so long to catch you,” the woman continued before he pulled her hand away. “Open your eyes,” he winced. Just barely opening his eyes filled his vision with bright white light and it was started to give him a headache.

The man beside him scoffed, “open your eyes.” The mans voice was demanding, and he felt the man grip his head hard before his eyes flew open against his will. There was a flash of images that passed him. Faces he didn’t recognize, places he didn’t know existed, but eventually it all faded and he could see the cramped office room he was sat in.

He blinked before he turned his head to see the two standing around him. The man was tall with maroon hair and pale blue eyes and was currently looking down on him with a scowl. Meanwhile, the woman was also tall as hell, though it could’ve been because of her high heels, with long blonde hair and yellow eyes.

Her faces showed a smile, but it was anything but warm. “Young man, what is your name?” He tilted his head, “pathetic?” He flinched, his own voice was hoarse, high pitched, and barely audible. Nonetheless, it drew a laugh out of the woman. “No dear, that is what you are. But it isn’t your name.” He blinked and looked down at the ground. He truly didn’t know his own name, he was frightened by the sound of his voice, the amount of things he didn’t know were quickly becoming overwhelming.

Suddenly, he wanted nothing more than to disappear off the face of the earth.

“I know, we can give you a name. Does that sound good,” her voice had turned into a sweet, caring tone, almost sounding as if she was speaking to a child. “I know you’re confused, and you probably have so many questions. But trust me, we’re here to help you, I promise.” He stared up at her, her yellow eyes softening and a warm smile spreading across her face.

“Zero, that’s what we’ll call you.” She directed her face up to the man, “in honour of experiment zero being a success.” The man nodded, his grip on the young mans head lessening before he eventually pulled away.

“Listen to me Zero, my name is Valerie and this is Keon. There’s a really evil organization out there, okay? They’re threatening to hurt civilians and trying to force their ideas on to people. I work for an organization called EMBER, we’re dedicated to ridding the streets of these evil “heroes” and restoring peace to the hierarchy.”

He shook his head, he still didn’t understand a thing she was saying. She sighed before reaching over and ruffling his hair, a soft gesture before she pulled away again and crouching in front of him.

“We’re going to help you. They hurt you, they put you in this condition, but we’re going to stop them. Think of how much pain you’re in, we don’t want anyone else to suffer the same fate. You’re so strong for surviving through all of that. Don’t worry everything is going to be okay.” She reached out and stroked his hair again before she stood. “Take him to his new room and let him rest, we’ll introduce him to the others tomorrow.”

The man nodded before he held a device up to his mouth and called for someone to come to the room. He…Zero, stared at the ground. He couldn’t remember half of the thing he had done while he was here. All he knew was what this woman, Valerie had just told him. She promised to keep him safe, but at what cost? Did they want him to help them? How could he in this state?

He felt himself be pulled up to his feet again by a third member in the room. The woman smiled, “he’s going to take you to you’re room. Don’t worry, it’ll be much better than that hell hole you were in before.” He nodded, for now, he would trust her.

The third person began to pull him out of the room.

What other choice did he have anyway?

———

Valerie watched the door slam shut behind the worker and the boy. “My my Keon, you’ve really out done yourself this time.” The red haired man shrugged, “it wasn’t all my doing. There’s only so much a simple memory recall ability can do. I also had Cyko and Thompson play with him from time to time so I’m sure that helped.”

Valerie nodded before she walked back to her desk and sat down. She breathed out a sigh, “three months. We started this project three months ago and it is just now finished?” Keon nodded, “he isn’t ready to use yet. Once he can stand on his two feet, he will be our trump card against those vigilantes.”

“So, explain to me. The silver eyes, what’s up with that?” Keon smirked, “to put it simply, the colour gold is full of life, spirit, and determination. The colour grey is lacking in anything, almost numb.” The redhead laughed to himself, “I have created an entirely new vessel for you to mold to your liking.” The woman nodded, “and you eliminated all chances of a relapse into his old self.”

Keon whistled and he felt the immediate scowl the woman bore. “Not entirely, though if that happens we can just throw him back into the chamber. I’ve discovered through the past few months that he does not like small spaces.” Valerie raised her nose up, “you’re dismissed, do not let this opportunity fall from our hands.

Keon nodded before he turned to the door. He had a hand on the handle when Valerie spoke once more, “if we use him in the field, what are the odds he will recognize one of the heroes.” Keon huffed, “he won’t, and even if he does, he won’t escape the grasp I have on his mind.” Valerie spoke no more and Keon dismissed himself.

The blonde swayed back and forth in her seat.

“I want Rei back.”

She smirked, “I feel as if a rematch is due soon.”

———

He, Zero, looked around the new room he was in. There was a bed in the corner, albeit it looked sketchy as hell, but it was a bed. There was a toilet and sink across from it, and a tiny mirror near the toilet, and that was it for the room. He laid his head against the metal door behind him and sighed, his eyes closing along the way.

He shivered, both from the cold of the room and out of fear. They told him to rest, but at the moment he could do anything but. Not really though, he was still in a lot of pain and his growing headache was making him sick.

“Zero, that’s what we’ll call you.”

“In honour of experiment zero being a success.”

He huffed, what was that supposed to mean. She said that the “heroes” put him in this state, but then called him an experiment?

His head hurt.

Slowly, he crawled his way over to the bed and painfully pulled himself up into the mattress. Immediately, there was a creak, and he felt as if a ton of needles were poking into his back. Nonetheless, it was much better than the cold metal floor, and what he now realized had been chains from the previous room. He rolled onto his side, onto his back, onto his stomach before sitting up again.

Of all times to be restless, it was the only time he was told to rest.

He didn’t know how long he sat there, just staring at the wall, at the toilet, at the floor, he just sat there. “Pathetic,” it was the only word that seemed to stick to his head out of that whole lecture from the woman named Valerie.

Valerie, he had watched her mood change from sinister to caring in a matter of seconds. What was her motive, why did she want him exactly, and who exactly was she? He felt like he knew her, in the back of his head he could’ve sworn he knew her. But perhaps it was just a feeling of deja vu from a time he couldn’t remember.

Speaking of things he couldn’t remember, he had no idea what he even looked like. Did he want to know? Considering how much pain he was in, he could only imagine the state his body was in.

Curiosity got the best of him though, so he pushed himself to his feet and steadied himself against the wall. Stumbling, he reached the mirror and held one hand on the wall while he pushed back to look at himself.

His hair reached his shoulders and was matted in blood, what he assumed to be blood that is, and thrown all about the place. His eyes were grey with deep bags under them, and he could see large scars running down the left side of his face from under his eye to his neck and disappearing under his shirt. Said shirt in question was a white shirt sleeved shirt with several tears around his sides and chest area. On his right arm he could see several bruises and cuts lining his arm along with scares around his wrist and hand. His left arm on the other hand was wrapped in bandages all the way from his fingers to his shoulder, and he found that it was incredibly stiff when he tried bending it.

The black pants he was wearing also had rips around his thighs and there were large holes revealing his bloody knees beneath. And just by looking down he could see his beet red feet that no doubt were infected and scraped underneath.

Just as he thought, he looked…well, pathetic. He would hate for someone to see him like this. Then again, who was going to see him? According to Valerie, there were others he was doing to meet after he got some rest. Question is, would he like them or not? In this state, he could guess that he wouldn’t like them.

With not much else to do he eventually made his way back to his bed, and fell asleep with an empty, dull, and numb mind.

———

“Rei! Catch me!”

“I gotta ya Remi what’s got you so happy today?”

“I’m starting highschool, I get to go to the same school you did.”

“Yep! Be sure to say hi to Arlo for me.”

“I will! And let Kuyo know I say hello as well.”

“Don’t worry I will.”

——

“Get up.”

Zero was abruptly awoken by Keon standing over him, his arms crossed and eyes narrowed into a scowl. “We’re introducing you to the others and the people you’ll be working with today. Then Valerie wants to evaluate you on something.” Keon nodded before leaving the room, though Zero could see that he was only standing outside of the doorway.

It wasn’t like there was anything he needed to do, so he simply pushed himself to his feet and followed Keon on the door. “That was surprisingly fast.” He shrugged before Keon grabbed his arm and pulled him behind him. “I’m leading you to the dining hall, make note of how to get here cause I won’t be bringing you here everyday. I’d advise not getting lost, someone might get the wrong message and try to kill you.”

Zero nodded, though Keon couldn’t see it, and merely followed as Keon led him through a set of doors into a small and very crowded room. On one side, there were groups of people sitting and staring at nothing or picking at their food. On the other side, there were people wide eyed and excited and were flipping bottles, wrestling, and borderline food fighting.

Keon sat him down in the middle of chaos.

“Ahem!” At Keon’s voice, the group looked up at him and then to Zero. The young man curled in on himself at everyone’s gaze before the male in front of him spoke up. “Ohhh this is the fresh meat Keon was talking about. “Bundle of joy” he said, that diminished real quick once I was introduced.”

“Cyko,” the man looked up to Keon who shook his head. “Ohhh, interesting,” the man leaned back in his seat with a giggle. “Alright, this is Zero. He’s going to be joining Cyko and Thompson on the field as our trump card. Meaning he is your last resort if the target becomes overwhelming. Though he can be used just for fun as well.”

Keon’s hand was resting on his head as he spoke, and try as he may, he couldn’t remember a word the man was saying to the others. It was like it went in one ear and was pulled out of the other. Instead, he just stared at the man in front of him.

He had black hair with neon blue highlights that complimented his bright blue eyes and a grin laced with insanity painted on his face. And his piercing blue eyes were boring into his own dull grey ones.

“Zero.” At the mention of his “name” he perked up and looked toward the red haired man. “These two are you partners. Cyko, and Thompson.” The older man pointing at the guy with blue eyes and a man sitting next to him. “Eat your food, I will come receive you whenever Volcan wants you.”

Zero nodded, watching Keon release his head and briskly leave the crowded dining hall. Unsure of what to do, he turned back toward the table and found several pairs of eyes pointed at him.

“Zero huh,” the man with the blue highlights leaned across the table toward him, “how is it fair that you get a name cool enough without a nickname, yet you look like a kicked puppy. What’s your kill count? How many limbs have you lost?” The young man stiffened and shook his head, as far as he knew he hadn’t killed anyone, nor did he plan to.

A darker skinned male sitting next to this so called Cyko shook his head and pulled the younger back into his seat. “Leave the newbie alone, the thing looks like he can’t even hold a knife. He’s shaking like a leaf,” the other man had a deep voice and deep brown eyes that were almost black. At his words, Zero looked down at his hands to discover that he was indeed shaking.

“I’m Thompson, and as you’ve seen this is Cyko. We’re your partners on the field.” Zero nodded before Cyko leaned over and spoke again, “you can leave all the dirty work to us if you’re scared.” Again, Zero nodded and Cyko scoffed before sitting back down. “You’re absolutely no fun, it’s like I’m talking to a brick wall. Can you even talk?”

A nod.

Cyko gritted his teeth, “I’m gonna end up killing him Tom, I’m relying on you to hold me back.” Thompson sighed and ran a hand through his hair, “you can’t kill another one of our partners. Keon gave you one last warning and said after the next one they’d throw you in the chamber.”

Zero began to tune them out, he didn’t know what they were talking about. “Chamber,” it must have been where he was before. Considering how Cyko shivered and immediately curled in on himself, he could assume it was a terrible place even the worst people didn’t want to be.

On another note, the two men in front of him acted like killing was the most casual thing to do. Quite frankly, it unsettled him, he didn’t know why but it made him want to leave the table. He could begin to feel his heart pounding in his chest. Did Valerie want him to kill people? Is that what they meant when they called him their “trump card?” But she said they were going to help people, that they were going to stop the bad guys.

He wanted to H̴̛͙͚̮̜̻̰͇̽͛͌͐̈͝e̸̺̯̝͇̗̊̒̋̎̾̽͑̂͋̆́̑͛̅͌͜ͅl̷̛̛͉̘̺̱͓̮̺̼̺̯̗͋̒ͅp̸̧̙̦͓̱̣̦͚͔̼̞̤̏̃̾̒̓̃͐̔ people

He wanted to keep people S̸̡̧̻̻̄a̸͔̱͚͌͗f̴̤͎̘͕̄̔ę̷̛͚̤̳̫̣͂͊̃̉͠

He didn’t want to hurt people

He didn’t want to kill people

Ţ̶̛̜̣̺͑̀͂̊̂̇h̶̨̛̜̞͉͊̿̍̆́̆̿ä̶̻́̊͑̇̊͒��̼̤̦͈̥ͅt̶̡̲͎̱̒͗̔͆͝͝’̴̲̙͓̮̻̤́͜s̴̢̜͎̬̪̱̬̙̈́̍̌͌ ̸̨̟̺̥̼̠͙͈̔̆͊̕n̸̨̹̲͉̠̭̥͎͐͠ơ̵͇̠̦͐̌̒̅́t̵̹̚ ̸̢͉̤͕̼̱͗͌̈̊̀̂͐͜w̶̰͕͔̹͙͈͙̯̌́͗̑̕ḣ̴̼̜̏̌͆̿͑̌o̴̼̤̓̅̊̋̾͝ ̸̜̤̭͗͒̈͠ḧ̵͚̳̳̰͂̎e̵̡͖͚̗̘̍̔̋͆͊̈́̿̈́ ̷̧̡̨̲̘̫̬͑̊̐͊͘͝w̶̛͉̞̉̾̌̚a̴̢͔̪̍́̏̆̎̎͋͜͜ͅs̸̠̲͌͑̂̑͆̇͘-

Zero blinked, his heart calming down and breathing coming down to a regular level.

“So who exactly are ya kid? Where’d ya come from?” Thompson turned toward him and spoke, neither him nor Cyko managing to see his sudden freak out. Zero shrugged, “I don’t know.” He winced again at the sound of his voice, maybe it would get better with time. Cyko hummed, “so he can speak.” Thompson waved him off with a hand, “you don’t know?” The young man nodded, his eyes flickering between the two men in front of him.

The older man nodded, a small smirk coming across his face, “they made you into their perfect little war machine didn’t they?” Zero titled his head to the side, Cyko mirroring his actions with a look of confusion. “This frail thing? A war machine? Yeah okay, if he’s a war machine, I’ll give you my burger next time we have them.” At that Thompson mature demeanor immediately vanished and was replaced with a childish smile.

“Really?!” Cyko groaned and rolled his eyes, “you’re so immature.” Zero looked between the two, they seem to be friends. That was a nice thought to have, he wanted to have friends in this place, maybe it would make him less…less what? This place didn’t make him feel anything. That was one thing he had noticed while staying here, he felt, nothing.

Physically he had felt pain, and exhaustion. But mentally, he hadn’t felt anything in his entire time here. Nothing made him sad, nothing made his happy. He felt as though he was just existing, as if he was just following an invisible string that was pulling him through his life.

“Hey,” Cyko’s high pitched voice shook him from his thoughts and he looked at the blue haired man. “Are you gonna eat that?” The other gestured to his full plate of food, white stuff that he really hoped was mashed potatoes, purple carrots, and a single apple. The hell kinda meal is that? He grimaced before pushing the plate forward toward Cyko he smiled before absolutely devouring the plate.

Thompson cleared his throat, “you’re gonna have to learn to eat that stuff. Trust me, one only get full meals maybe one every three months. And burgers only come twice a year. The food is shit, but at least they give us food.”

Zero nodded, he would force himself to eat his food tomorrow. For now however, he simply sat and listened to Cyko and Thompson talk, along with whatever conversation he managed to hear from other people. I’m doing so he found out that Justine had an affair with Cole and now Erin was going to slit Cole’s throat. One of the lunch ladies died the other day and her body was found in the kitchen with several stab wounds, the suspected murderer was Cyko who giggled about it. A girl named Lumina got thrown in the chamber after refusing a job given to her directly from Volcan.

His name floated around the dining hall a few times as well despite his limited interaction with any other people. He had just managed to start ignoring the several mentions of his name when he spotted Keon out of the corner of his eye. The male gestured out of the room with his head before disappearing around the corner.

Zero could only take that as his cue to leave. So silently, without another word to anyone, he stood from the table on wobbly legs and slowly made his way out of the dining hall. He could definitely feel every pair of eyes on him as he left, but he kept his head straight and slipped out of the room.

“I’m shocked you actually understood my gesture, and that you’re standing. Maybe this will work after all.” Keon began walking once more and Zero followed behind him, that invisible string of fate pulling him in the direction Keon wanted him to go. Maybe Keon was pulling the string, maybe Valerie was, maybe this Volcan person everyone spoke about was.

He then realized that it had been a while since he last peed. His nose scrunched up, did that mean he had been peeing himself while in the chamber? Zero held in a gag, if that were true, then he was walking in pee stain pants and was very lucky that they were black.

“If you’re done having dirty thoughts, we’re here. And be assured, your pants have been changed.” Zero nodded, a feeling of relief coming over him. Feeling calmer, he let Keon lead him through a large set of metal doors and found himself outside. He blinked against the harsh light of the sky and the sun, it was the first time he had been outside in ages, and only now did he realize just how pale he was.

Where he stood he only saw sand spreading far away from where his eye sight could reach. All around him there were props, decorated to look like people. It was a little too realistic for him, if he hadn’t looked twice, he would have though they were actual people.

“Zero!” He looked up and behind him to what seemed to be an observation deck and found Valerie standing in the edge of it. She smiled down at him and waved, and he found himself do the same. “How are you feeling, well rested?” The young man nodded, never seeing Keon’s disgusted face next to him. “That’s amazing, listen I’m gonna give you a challenge. You see, if we’re gonna go out and stop those bad people, we have to train you. Understand?” Zero nodded again and looked back toward the training dummies.

He could see where this was going. She wanted him to take out all of these training dummies and would evaluate his abilities at doing so.

Keon made a noise and Zero looked over, in his hand was knife and it was gently placed into his own.

“Listen Zero, the best way to stop these heroes is to immobilize them quickly. They can’t hurt you or others if you knock them down first. We’re not sure how well your ability works at the moment, so we’re focusing on this first, okay? All I want you to do, is find the best method to immobilize the training dummies. You don’t have to use the knife if you don’t want to.”

He looked down at the knife in his hand. It felt heavy, like it wasn’t supposed to be in his hands. He felt like dropping it would made the feeling in his stomach and chest ease up and go away. He gripped the knife tighter, it was a self defense mechanism, he would only use it if he had to.

Slowly, he made his way to the first dummy in front of him. He stopped when he was face to face with the dummy and stared at it. These are meant to be the people Valerie says are our enemies. He stared at the black button eyes in front of him and gripped the knife tighter. They hurt people.

Before either Keon or Valerie could blink, he swung his leg and connected with the dummy’s neck. Keon inhaled sharply, his body tense as he watched the dummy’s head roll down the hill.

The young man took a deep inhale before he broke into a sprint toward the next dummy. In one Swift movement he landed a punch in the chest, his fist going all the way through.

His foot took off the arm of another, his bandaged arm claim another head, and he kicked the feet out from under a dummy before stepping down on its chest. He panted, sweat beginning to fall down his neck, his grip on the knife only growing tighter, enough to wear his hand was beginning to ache.

It felt…exhilarating.

He smiled as he lunged for the next dummy, and giggled as he arm flew through the stomach of another.

On the deck, Valerie could feel her own grin widening as she watch every last bit of sanity escape from her precious experiment. Keon on the other hand, felt as though he would be sick. He clenched his fist together as he watched dummy after dummy fall over. Some missing limbs, some missing heads, he gulped as he imagined what this “thing” could do once he used his ability.

Zero grinned as one final dummy stood before him, and without a moments hesitation he brought the knife into the throat of the dummy and lodged it deep within the thread.

He allowed himself a second to breath before pulling the knife back out and holding it in his hand. He stared at it and his vision blurred, red blood painting the knife and his hands. He looked down at himself and saw blood coating his pants and his shirt.

And he heard his own laughing before he knew that he was laughing. His chest was burning, there were tears streaming out of his eyes, the knife felt like fire in his hands, but he kept laughing.

And like a fire had been extinguished, he stopped.

The knife fell from his hand and he stumbled backwards. He stared at his hands, expecting to see blood covering his body, but all he found was dirt and sand. “Zero.” His head snapped up as he saw Valerie, Volcan, approaching him and he stepped back again. His ankle rolled and he fell to the ground, crawling backwards he tried to make space between himself and the blonde haired woman.

“Zero, you’re okay. I promise, you did very well.” Valerie walked toward the young man, but he only pushed further back. Finally, she stopped, “Rei,” she said with a glare and the mans head popped up. Frightened gold eyes stared back at her and she clenched her fist. “Keon!”

Rei shook his head, scrambling to his feet and running as fast as he could from the duo. “Rei! Get back here,” he ignored Valerie’s yelling and kept running. His body screamed in pain, and he had no idea where he was going, but he wanted far away from wherever they were.

A war machine, their trump card, the prefect vessel. They were making him into their weapon, and he had no way of pushing back against it. He mentally kicked himself, he allowed Keon to get into his head, and now they had complete control over his mind.

He wiped at the tears blurring his vision, he had to make it back to Wellston, and if not to Wellston then he had to get back home. He had to let everyone know he was okay. What about Remi, what about his mom? Were they currently grieving because they thought he was dead? And what about Arlo and Kuyo, were they okay?

He had to get home, he had to help them.

“Rei!”

There was a sharp whistle through the hair before he felt pain spread throughout his leg and send him tumbling forward on to the ground.

He winced, gripping his leg close to his chest and gingerly pulling the tranquilizer dart from his calf. “Please,” he whimpered and attempt to stand up again. He saw Valerie making her way toward him, anger painted on her features and flaming claws emerging from her hands.

The “sweet and caring” demeanor was gone, and was immediately replaced with cold, murderous anger that was currently directed toward him. He held in a Yelp when she gripped his collar with one hand and pulled his face close to hers.

“Don’t ever attempt to escape from me again.”

The greenette screamed as she plunged her claws into his abdomen and twisted them further in. “Or you will never get to see them again.” She yanked her claws back and allowed Rei to fall back down. “Keon,” she addressed the male who was panting as he reached the other two. “Take him back to the chamber, clearly he needs to learn who is in control here before we can effectively use him.”

Keon nodded, his stride directed to the young man rolling on the ground, his ability active.

Rei winced, his vision was beginning to blur but he mustered enough energy to active his ability. From two of his fingers he sent a weak spark toward Keon hitting him in the forearm after he blocked his face from being hit.

“Why you little shit.”

Fear overcame Rei as Keon practically tackled him and held him by his wrist in one hand and gripped his head with another. “I dare you to tell me to stop.”

And in a flash of images he watched Remi, Arlo, Kuyo, he watched all of them smile at him, before everything went dark.

———

*1 Month Later*

———

“Your target tonight is a duo by the names of X-Rei and Nobody. X-Rei has a lightning ability at a level of 5.4 and Nobody is a 5.0 with energy discharge. Both of them have incredibly fast reflexes and speed. Exercise caution and keep a distance between yourselves and them.”

Cyko and Thompson nodded, this was a regular night for them.

“They will likely hold out for a long time, whenever you bore of them, send him in.”

In the corner of the room, grey eyes scanned over the files in his hands. X-Rei was a pink haired girl with an x on a grey sweatshirt and Nobody was a redheaded male with almost his entire body covered in black.

“Zero.”

EMBER’s ultimate war machine looked up with a smirk, a glint of silver being seen under his green bangs.

“As you wish, Volcan.”

#unordinary #unordinary webtoon #unordinary rei

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