#with stories where *these characters* are powerless to stop it and you know what's worse. I don't even believe in fate. that fact actually

[porcelainforte]

Can I please get a Wally x reader where the reader has a secret identity as a supervillain who uses their powers to bully others into getting what they want, ruining events and claiming the neighbourhood as theirs. They don’t hurt anyone physically (emotionally yes). They are loud, bombastic and fun like a Disney villain. When they are not disguised, they are a nice, peaceful and helpful neighbour who always tries to lend a helping hand to throw others off their tracks. I would imagine the neighbours planning to get back at the supervillain not knowing that the culprit is just 2 feet besides them, comforting them while baking a pie. You can choose the superpower and name of the villain. I wanted the neighbour to be more new to the place and just help around until they heard of Wally Darling and gotten to know him. I would imagine them having cute moments where they are just having fun and some moments where Wally does talk about how bad the villain is and they actually feel sad about what they are doing but they know they can’t stop right now. While when they are in their supervillain disguise, they tend to ignore Wally to not make it worse for them. I could even see a moment where the supervillain just intimidates Julie into giving up some of her pies but Wally stands up for her and he get a dark glare back and just…….goes away for about a week. Wally does find out after a while (you can choose how he finds out). I’d imagine it would all lead to a confrontation as the supervillain captures Wally’s friends and traps them in one of their houses and “challenges” Wally to a fight and Wally just calls them out and says he wouldn’t want to be close to a bully and it would spark a redemption arc in the reader. I really hope this is ok. I really want it to be a several character story but if you can’t do it, understand but please tell me.

Omg sorry for taking too long 😭 I’ve been busy and I haven’t had the chance to open tumblr! but anyways, here is part one to this story! Hehe

Bad Apple! pt1

In the small neighborhood, everything seemed peaceful until one day, a mysterious figure with a red mask and red outfit began terrorizing the residents. Bad Apple, as everyone called them, would appear out of nowhere and demand their neighbors to do what they wanted by force. If their demands were not met, the Bad Apple would ruin the neighbor's parties and fun events.

Bad Apple wanted to claim and have everyone under their control, and they would always appear with their signature red mask and red outfit. Their voices were loud, and they often laughed, especially when their terrorizing was successful.

The neighbors became fearful, but they found comfort in knowing that the Bad Apple had never physically harmed anyone. However, they still felt powerless against the Bad Apple's intimidation. That was until you arrived in the neighborhood.

As the new neighbor, you quickly became a friend to everyone. Whenever the Bad Apple caused disaster, the neighbors would run to you for comfort. It became clear that you had a calming effect on them, and your presence alone was enough to calm the tense atmosphere in the neighborhood.

You were an angel sent from above!

…

But as an old saying goes, looks can be deceiving.

The truth was, you had been leading a double life. By day, you were the kind neighbor everyone knew and loved, and by night, you were the Bad Apple, spreading chaos, ruining parties, and causing mayhem. Your mask and outfit hidden your true identity, allowing you to be both the villain and the hero at the same time. It was a strange and somewhat confusing concept, but it had become second nature to you.

Despite your true identity, you c ouldn't bring yourself to cause any real harm. You knew that physically harming someone would only lead to real damage and consequences, so you made sure to avoid that as much as possible. You had become the master of intimidation, using your loud voice and forceful presence to get what you wanted, while never crossing the line.

But as you continued to play this double life, you couldn't help but feel conflicted. You enjoyed the thrill of causing chaos and being the center of attention, but you also loved the feeling of being loved and admired by the neighborhood, especially from one certain somebody. It was a strange and conflicting feeling, and one that you would have to come to terms with in your own time.

“Oh hey Julie! Do you need help in baking? Sure! I’ll come in a bit”

“You need someone to rehearse your role with? I’ll be right there Sally!”

“Wah! Eddie! Are you okay? Here let me help you pick those up!”

“Umm.. Frank? I don’t think mixing bleach and rubbing alcohol is a good idea.. Oh no you spilled some here let me help!”

“Poppy! Those might stain your feathers! I’ll carry them for you!”

“This is very delicious Barnaby! We work great as a team!”

“Howdy these boxes are a little bit heavy for me.. I’ll go wipe the tables instead!”

Everyday was like this for you, always being a helpful hand to everyone. They all appreciated it and loved you for it and you didn’t mind helping as well, until you were going back home from Howdy’s shop. You helped him carry all the imports to his shop and let's just say your back needed a little massaging.

You were walking towards your home but suddenly you felt your legs turn jelly and flopped to the ground.

“Man, carrying those boxes will always be a sore” You groaned.

As you struggled to stand up after helping Howdy with his imports, you suddenly felt a strong grip on your elbows. Before you could react, someone had pulled you up off the ground and into a standing position. You looked up, dazed, to see the face of a stranger looking back at you with an expression of concern.

"Are you okay?" The person asked, their voice monotone but their tone was laced with genuine concern as they supported you under the arms.

You looked up to the figure and saw a male with royal blue hair. Blinking, you tried thinking if you’ve met this person before.

“Umm.. have we met? I don’t think..”

“Oh I don’t think we have, this is my first time seeing you in person :)” His voice trailed off. “You’re new to the neighborhood afterall, I’ve been busy and never got the chance to meet you when you came”

“Oh” was all you could say. The blue haired individual took notice of your silence. Oh no, are they mad at me for not meeting them sooner? The person thought.

“Hey, I’ll make it up to you! My name is Wally :) Wally Darling”

“(Name) and it’s nice to meet you too!”

“Would you like me to accompany you home?” Wally asked.

“Hmm , why not?”

The two of you then started walking, talking to each other. Your home finally showed up and you were about to bid goodbye. You reached to open your door until Wally grabbed your hands.

“Hey wait neighbor, the reason why I was busy because I was making this for you” Wally said as he gave you a music box. Your eyes sparkled as you took the gift from his hands.

“Did you craft this yourself?” You gasped as you noticed the small details of painting on the music box.

“I did, but I asked a little help from Frank for the mechanics of the music box” Wally said, giving you a small grin. “I hope you like it neighbor, I tend to give welcome gifts to new neighbors”

Little did you know that your gift was the only thing he spent the longest time on.

You grinned back, wanting to embrace him but stopped yourself. “Aahh! Thank you! I love it! No one has ever voluntarily given me something before!”

“Oh? what is that supposed to mean?”

You quickly smacked your hand on your mouth, “Nothing! Anyway I really gotta rest up, thank you Wally have a great night!” With that you closed the door and immediately ran to your room. You placed the music box on your bed and turned it on. You weren’t familiar with the tune but it was very lovely to your ears. Your cheeks couldn’t help but brighten up as you listened to the music it was playing.

end of pt. one

#wally darling #wally darling x reader #wally x y/n #wh wally #wally my beloved #wally x you

[redpenship]

I was wondering from in your Buzzsaw Dilemma fanfic, if Sonic may have developed lasting insecurities specifically over steadily becoming more powerless to stop Eggman. Sure the Empire became a lot less bad, but it seemed from Sonics pov that just kinda happened. Meanwhile the consequences became too dangerous for him to destroy most of Eggmans structure and badniks. Even if he'd hide it I think that powerlessness could greatly bother him.

Though i've just realized that you'll probably have more to show about how Sonic handled everything in the sequel fic you're planning. So I'm not sure how much you'd wanna reveal about your ideas here.

This is definitely going to be part of Sonic's story in the sequel, but none of it will be surprising to the reader anyways so I don't mind talking about it. If anything, I would literally spoil the entire sequel if you asked me to, I don't actually care very much haha.

[long post ahead]

I've always kind of believed that Sonic has a somewhat worse time than Tails during the events of the fic, particularly in the sense that although Tails' situation sucks absolute ass, he's at least in the loop about what's really going on. Sonic's perspective is rather bleak: a kid he's growing fond of suddenly dies, and then a couple of weeks later he loses any ability to fight back against Eggman. He has a small victory on Angel Island, but this is ultimately short-lived.

Chapters 4-6 are important for his character, since he really just experiences loss after loss with no ability to stop it. His attempt to hide the Chaos Emeralds results in Amy losing her home, and any guilt he feels over this is only made worse by Eggman winning the fight for the emeralds in the end anyways. Sonic isn't stupid--at this point, he's well aware that he was tricked into collecting the emeralds for Eggman. However, he definitely feels kind of stupid, and especially frustrated with himself for basically ruining Amy's life (even if it wasn't really his fault).

Shortly after, he tags along with Amy and Knuckles on their base raids, but the exploding Badniks make him effectively useless and all he can really do it support the others during their fights. This makes Sonic feel really bad for a few reasons: 1) He can't do anything. 2) The way he sees it, Amy and Knuckles were both kind of dragged into this because of him and it isn't fair that they have to do all the heavy-hitting for him. 3) He is now aware that Eggman is a bit "smarter" so to speak, but doesn't know what he's planning and isn't confident enough in himself to start guessing. The base raids are a band-aid solution to what he knows will be a much bigger problem down the line.

These three points kind of compound into more guilt and frustration when Eggman traps Knuckles on Angel Island. Sonic is pretty certain that Eggman is lying about the bombs, but remains unable to convince Knuckles, who can very easily point to the exploding badniks as proof that Eggman isn't above making this kind of play. Sonic continues to largely blame himself here, as he believes that if he could still defeat badniks, Eggman never would have become successful enough to control someone as he did Knuckles.

Chapter six onwards is when the broader world dynamics come into play. Sonic is very aware of the planet's recent history--the flashback in chapter 2 isn't Sonic giving Tails a nickname, but rather a real "Mobian" name since Miles is English--and knows what it would mean to have Eggman take over the east pacific islands. It's worth noting that Vanilla's story about the fire only happened around seven years before Sonic was born, so you are free to consider the implications of what it means for Sonic to have grown up as parentless kid on South (or Christmas) Island.

After Eggman takes over the islands, and especially after the human states take over the other Mobian territories, is the point where I think he would feel the most powerless. His inability to stop Eggman caused a domino effect leading to the complete domination of his planet. Both Sonic and Tails feel responsible for letting this happen, as though they were both mutually enabling the empire and other states.

The reveal of Alhazen's identity, while a relief to Sonic, also only serves to reaffirm all his insecurity about being the cause of the empire's success. Not only was he powerless to stop everything going on, but he now knows that Tails had been caught in the chemical factory because Sonic hadn't been keeping a close enough eye on him. Tails might think "oh, I was the gasoline, I enabled Eggman and served as the key to the empire's success", but Sonic blames himself for Tails being in that position in the first place. The creation of Alhazen is a direct result of a single mistake: running ahead and forgetting to let the little kid behind him catch up.

Although Mobians in general kinda end up in a better place thanks to Tails' deterrence, the fact that he was incapable of doing anything to help during such a critical moment (well, "moment" meaning basically anything from chapter 4 onward) is going to stick with him probably for the rest of his life. Poor Sonic </3

(very long post haha. ty for your question!!!)

#onesecretperson #fic: the buzzsaw dilemma #redposts

[xenonmoon]

Some last note before moving to MK 2016 volume 3:

Pros:

I really like the subversion of the "it was all a dream" trope. It being "all a dream" doesn't actually solve things, it makes them even worse and messier

Pacing is great, using switch frequency and entity of the bleedout among each one of them to build tension towards not the final act of this volume's plot but what appears to be the middle one, turning instantly in a moment of surprise when all parallel stories instead of converging with each other drop out into Marc's. The second part with the confrontation instead of escalating again it de-escalate step by step from action to calm, heartfelt moments until only Marc is left, alone. Nice

I keep thinking using different artists and scenarios for each character is a BRILLIANT way to have a visual rendition of how different alters filter the situation through different lens

Despite being a bit cartoonish/exaggerated I liked how frustrating the police interrogation felt with its ableism towards Jake. Makes you feel the character's powerlessness in that situation

Leaving Vengeance (and the latter part of the 2006) aside, since they only features Jake and in a very ambiguous way that's very passable as Marc With A Different Name, Steven and (proper) Jake hadn't had a real active role in the narrative outside when Moench was writing them. It's nice and refreshing to finally see them back as being part of Moon Knight as they should be.

Steven's narrative is how the Bendis run should have been and you can't change my mind

Love love looooove how Lemire recontextualised the dubious writing the character's had over the years into Marc's point of view - how he thinks about his condition and how to deal with. He also does a plentiful of acknowledgements that are a HUGE step forward to stop considering having alters as something bad - despite still thinking he need to get rid of them to be "sane". But will get back at this with the volume 3

Cons:

Jeff Lemire possibly only read the first volume of the Epic Collection, so he knows the basics of the Oldies but not enough to use them effectively inside the plot. They're either "extras", background stuff, namedrops, or very vague and/or ooc. This leads to their appearances being one of those cases when the callbacks are best enjoyed if you're in the middle of the spectrum between not knowing the characters and knowing them fairly well: you either just heard of them (and/or seen very marginal stuff) or remember them by long faded memories. One of those cases where elements and/or a product holds itself up for most part by nostalgia or a very shallow knowledge of the source.

This also lead to potential thematically relevant characters to be cut out of the narrative, like Morpheus.

Jake's characterisation is. I don't know how to describe it. It was fine and fairly coherent with Moench's up until the confrontation scene, when by the way Marc talks to him it seems backbuilt almost from scratch to fit Wood's heavy drift (or switch with Marc's, can be also seen as that). That resulted in a weird superimposition between him and Moon Knight and while he is not identified as "the evil alter" it flies dangerously close by being at least the violent one. This is 99.9% what inspired MCU Jake's (I can't really say characterisation since we see him for like 2 seconds but. actions?). Detaching itself even from the last bits of Moench that the 2016 still kept the MCU incarnation took a long turn away from the comics' original concept and well. I think the moon knight tag is full of self-explanatory examples of the domino effect it caused on the long run. Sighs

Despite this run's approach to MK's condition being revolutionary in the context of the history of how this character has been written after the original run closed, there are some bits that are still based on misconceptions around how the condition worked - meaning, the core theory according to which there is one "real" or "original" identity in the system and the others all formed later and- ugh that they are or used to be childhood imaginary friends. Surprisingly, the original Moench run which was written back when people knew next to nothing about the condition is more accurate on this point since it treats all three (four considering MK) more or less equally as different identities of the same individual

Let's talk about Commander. I get it, Lemire needed an alter to function as a "placeholder" to Marc for the tripartite altered narrative that dominates the heart of this volume, but you can feel by the way he's treated that's kind the throwaway one. Or, at least, the most throwaway one once its purpose in the narrative is fulfilled

That's all I could cook up for this volume! Moving to the third and final one!

#moon knight #moon knight comics #moon knight 2016 #lemire #smallwood #bellaire #torres #francavilla #stokoe #xenon reacts #final review #q tag

[juriyuna]

Hmmmm can you do Yuna?

[hikaru voice] YUNA-SAN! YUNA-SAN! YUNA-SAN!

Why I like them: Easily one of my favorite characters, for a variety of reasons! I love villains who used to be good people until they were broken by the circumstances they were forced into. Yuna was a kind, gentle girl who wanted the best for those around her, much like Iroha. But unlike Iroha, she was torn apart by grief, ultimately driven to vengeance because she couldn't take knowing that Kamihama had their nice cushy doppel system while Futatsugi was eating itself alive. (The situation in Futatsugi was bad even before the Magius-induced witch drought, but the witch drought definitely made everything worse.)

Deep down, Yuna knows that going all eye-for-an-eye is pointless, but she's hurting too much to care. Making Kamihama suffer takes some of the pain away, even if only for a little while. She has a really tragic story; I like it a lot.

The subversion of the "my fallen allies make me stronger" trope here is super interesting too, I think. There's no special powers involved; Yuna's strength comes from anger, sorrow, and a burning desire to avenge the ones she's lost. The voices of the dead echoing in her mind is straight-up a veteran PTSD thing, which is... somehow even more depressing than if it was magic-related. Every time she closes her eyes, her friends' deaths- their final screams, their faces, their feeble cries for help- start replaying in her head. She can barely even sleep because of the flashbacks-- it's no wonder she looks so tired all the time.

And then one of her tap quotes is "I can't enjoy festivals, New Year's visits, fireworks, or any of the other events that take place at night in Futatsugi anymore. Whenever I'm taking a stroll at night, I can't help but think of those girls… who'd died..." :( Poor Yuna can't even have fun doing normal activities anymore because her scars run so deep.

Speaking of how kind she used to be, I like that some of that still shines through when she's with the other Promised Blood girls. Though vicious in battle, she's very sweet to her friends, even having a tendency to spoil them. The main reason she wanted to steal Kamihama's APS in the first place was so that Futatsugi's magical girls- regardless of what faction they were in during the Blood Tragedy- could live peacefully, safe from becoming witches. Some say Yuna is uncaring, but it's really the opposite-- she committed she acts she did because she does care. She loved everyone too deeply to bear the pain of what happened to them.

Her design is a perfect mix of "pretty" and "cute", and I love her voice, too. Kinda soothing......

Why I don't: Hmm, I can't think of anything? I was kinda like "NO! NO!!!" watching her go down the path she did, since I got the feeling it was just going to hurt her more in the end (which it did... RIP sakuya......), but that secondhand pain added to her character rather than detracting from it.

Favorite episode (scene if movie): Oh man... This is a tie between CR and ch.7, so I think I'll have to bring up both.

Ch.7 was all-around a great show of Yuna's character, as well as incredibly painful. Victory was almost in her grasp- she almost had the ending she wanted, where she thought her girls would finally have peace- and then everything shattered to pieces.

When Sakuya died, that created just enough of a gap in Yuna's heart to allow the Kimochi (Grief, Rage, Respect, and Surprise) to take over. Watching them puppet her body, forcing her to attack her friends as she struggles to beg them to run away... The way she goes to the catacombs to die, powerless to stop the Kimochi from tearing her apart from the inside; feebly calling for her Senpai... this- this fuckign internal monologue:

Yuna: (I don't want to...hurt people...anymore... What should I do...?)

Yuna: "Don't hate, don't be jealous, and don't be selfish. Always work hard for others, and pray for peace, both of the world and of yourself."

Yuna: (When I turned my back on those words, I turned my back on everything... Very well. I shall lie dead...with everyone...here... I'm sorry, but I'm going to where Sakuya is...)

Yuna: "Juri...please work with Ranka to restore Ao's heart... Ao...please ensure that Hikaru does not follow me... And Hikaru...please work with Ao to foster Futatsugi's next generation..."

PAIN!! SUFFERING!!!! I'm in SHAMBLES

As for CR: it's probably my favorite event in general thus far, but I would be remiss as a juriyuna shipper to not bring up their fight at the end of the second half, which gave us perhaps one of the gayest scenes in the whole game.

Right after learning the truth behind why witches disappeared from Futatsugi, Yuna- suddenly overcome by grief and rage for the first time- gets Hikaru to call Juri out to Monzenbashi for their rematch. Though still recovering from a previous fight, she's hell-bent on getting Juri to join her to help her get revenge on Kamihama. Juri is reluctant, but Yuna says no, we are doing this now.

... and then we get this, which kinda speaks for itself:

Yuna: "But before we start, you have to promise me one thing."

Juri: "What, you want your girls back...?"

Yuna: "Juri… you're going to be mine."

Juri [suddenly blushing]: "Whoa…"

Juri: "I kinda got a chill from that. Fine, if you win, I'll be all yours."

Yuna: "You won't break that promise, will you?"

Juri: "I'm not that type."

the way Juri blushes... I see, I see. 👀 I love that this reads as both "you will join my gang again" as well as some sort of confession.

Yuna explains the Kamihama situation while they fight, which is just as shocking to Juri as it was to herself. As Yuna's grudge reaches a boiling point, Juri unleashes as much fire as she can to try to kill Yuna before her hatred turns her into a witch.

It doesn't work, of course. We get that cool CG of Yuna- now with horn- walking through an inferno. Juri has lost. Suddenly going back on her promise from earlier, she refuses to join Yuna, saying that she can't work with... whatever sort of oni Yuna has become.

Juri: "Stop actin' batshit... This time, Juri the Great will put a stop to your urge to kill… Let this dragon consume you already…!

[Yuna bites Juri's neck]

Juri: "Ugh... Yuna...?"

Yuna [through telepathy]: "I'm the predator here. And you're my prey, Juri… If you're not going to be mine, I'll tear right into your neck."

Juri: "Are you fuckin' serious...?"

like. i don't even know if i can call this "subtext" anymore. between the neck-biting (insert unsolicited tiger information here) and the "you're my prey" and the "let this dragon consume you already", i'm pretty sure this is just text. thank u f4......

Favorite season/movie: arc 2 _(:3 」∠)_

Favorite line: I'm kinda cheating this one by bringing up a few of my favorite lines throughout this post, aha. :'^) But for a homescreen line I love:

"We got another request for love advice through the letterbox... Once, I tried to give some suggestions, but Sakuya laughed at it so hard that I stopped ever since. It’s not like I’m confident in that or anything..."

Poor Yuna, aha. :') It's nice that she tried her best to help, even though being romantic is apparently not her strong suit. Just goes to show how kind she is at heart, always wanting the best for the people she cares about. (I wanna know what her advice was. I feel like it'd be something either weirdly formal, rather naive/cheesy, or somehow both.)

Favorite outfit: Her magical girl outfit (with the oni horn) is one of my favorites in the game! The muted colours are nice, and I love the overall aesthetic. Honorable mention to her winter outfit-- it's very fashionable, and looks like something you'd actually see someone wear IRL.

OTP: JURIYUNA!!!! AGAIN!! Even though I talked about it earlier, I'm gonna talk about it more because it's so!! good!!!

They have such a great enemies-to-lovers dynamic. enemies to "enemies with benefits" to lovers? They spend all of CR at war, with Yuna wanting Futatsugi's magical girls to coexist, and Juri wanting to cut down on the number of magical girls in the city so she and her Ryuugasaki girls don't have to die slowly from the grief seed shortage. They loved and hated each other at the same time; constantly driving one another insane, yet loathing the idea of losing the other forever. For as much as Juri wanted to defeat Yuna, she knows that Yuna is the only person who can handle her-- she needs Yuna. In some of the CR bad ends, where Juri manages to kill Yuna (or even the big fight at the end where Juri thought she burned Yuna to death), all it does it leave her feeling worse.

It's cute to me how... understanding, I guess? Yuna is towards Juri. She's seen Juri at her worst, over and over again, but never gives up on her. She knows that Juri isn't a bad person; she just has problems. Though she does find Juri's energy exhausting (or frustrating) to deal with at times, she knows how much Juri struggles with her "sickness", and that fighting is the only way she knows how to handle stress. She's not simply violent for the sake of it. Like this flashback convo in AS ch.3:

Yuna: "However… because I know her true nature… I would prefer to bring this to a close… without killing her…"

Sakuya: "What else can you do with someone like that…?"

Yuna: "… I will defeat her and take her under my lead… In order to minimize collateral damage… it would be best for me to keep an eye on her…"

Sakuya then reminisces about how even after Juri left Yuna's group (shown to be a very messy breakup in Juri's MSS), Yuna never stopped trying to find a way to rope her in without killing her. Actually, now that I think about it, Yuna leans on some pretty sneaky/underhanded tactics to try to make sure she can get Juri under control again. The lengths she was willing to go to to try to both stop Juri and keep her alive, man.... devotion.

In CR, when Juri gets ambushed by Ao in a Torayamachi/Ryuugasaki fight, Yuna flat-out refuses to continue the battle until Juri has had a chance to recover. She wants Juri to come back under her wing; she doesn't want to kill her or kick her while she's down. And she knows how much a proper rematch means to Juri, too-- she knows that in Juri's current state, this wouldn't be the battle she wants. "You're out for my blood, so I'm going to give you the best chance at doing that because I know it would make you feel better" is a weird way of showing affection, but given the circumstances (read: what Juri is like), it's sorta sweet.

(Yuna even makes flashcards for Juri and pulls an all-nighter to help her study for an exam in the Please, Yuna-san! event. The following morning, when Juri remembers that she had a bunch of book reports she was supposed to hand in that day (which she hadn't even started), Yuna helps her get them done. Doesn't even get annoyed with Juri for forgetting her homework until the last minute or anything. That's love right there.)

Then the scene in ch.8 where Yuna stops Juri from killing herself... She has some other business to attend to that day, but she's afraid of leaving Juri alone after what just happened. Juri tells her "I ain’t gonna kill myself. You go on ahead.", but Yuna looks so sad and worried. ;; She does eventually leave to run her errand once she's gotten Juri to agree to stay put, though it's clear that the situation is weighing heavily on her heart.

Later, when they're taking the train home, Yuna orders her again: "Do NOT die." Juri laughs it off, saying she's gonna stick around 'til they save Ao, but... I get the sense that Yuna meant it, like, in general. She wants Juri to stay alive and with her, even if Juri doesn't understand why.

The contrast between how Juri sees herself (as a "problem child" who's only good at making life difficult for everyone else) vs. how Yuna sees her gets me. The way Yuna wants Juri to stay with her- not because Juri is strong, or because Ryuugasaki needs a leader, but because Yuna loves her- GETS me, man. (´༎ຶོρ༎ຶོ`)

And Yuna telling Juri "Wait for me at the gates of Hell" in ch.5, when the underground prison was collapsing and it seemed like Juri might not make it out alive? Peak romance. Juriyuna truly has it all.

(ps. yuna calls juri cute in ch.1. thought that was worth mentioning too.)

In conclusion,

Brotp: Hikaru+Yuna is so sweet...! They both care for each other so much and want the other to be happy. It works as a romantic ship too, but personally, I prefer it as a BROTP.

I'm glad that Hikaru loves Yuna as a person, not only as a leader or someone to idolize. She mentions in her ch.7 Kagome interview that while she's happy to help Yuna out with anything she needs, she fears that Yuna's grudge is going to burn her up until there's nothing left. Hikaru understands why Yuna is doing what she's doing, but it's still painful to see her hurting so much. She just wants Yuna to be at peace again. When Yuna gets taken over by her Kimochi stones, Iroha tells Hikaru that she's going to go save Yuna. Hikaru weakly tells Iroha that Yuna has gone to the catacombs. She may have spent the entire story until now at war with Kamihama, but she's counting on Iroha to try to rescue Yuna anyway. Yuna's life is what matters most right now.

(On that note, the one Bad End in CR where Yuna turns into a witch, and Hikaru takes her down before becoming a witch herself... This Kills The Man.png)

That's not even getting into how often Hikaru goes out of her way to make Yuna happy. Bringing her her favorite ice cream without even being asked, helping her out with various duties at school, making sure that she stays comfortable in the summer (Yuna is not good with heat)... Thank you Hikaru. :')

Hikaru's dream for the future- to stay as Yuna's right-hand man, even when they're both adults- is heartwarming as well. I hope it comes true. ;;

And it's super nice that Yuna loves Hikaru in turn! No matter what happens, good or bad, Hikaru faithfully sticks by Yuna's side to support her, and Yuna is incredibly grateful for her presence. When Yuna cracked at the end of CR, a hug from Hikaru was what got her to settle down. (seeing yuna cry when hikaru went "there, there..." made me Feel Things)

At the same time, though, Hikaru's obsessive devotion sometimes makes Yuna a little sad. Hikaru has admitted that she doesn't live for herself anymore, and Yuna also knows that she has an absolutely terrible time with executive dysfunction when left alone. Not only is there the very real possibility of Hikaru following Yuna to the grave in the event that Yuna dies first, Yuna worries that once she graduates, Hikaru might lose the motivation to go to school altogether.

That's actually pretty refreshing to see?? "[A] is super dedicated to [B]" is a common trope, but it's not often that I see it combined with "[B] worries about [A]'s independence and wellbeing". Makes it that much cuter to me. ;_;

Headcanon: She's naturally tiny for her age, and has always had a fast metabolism, but she doesn't eat that much these days since her PTSD kind of kills her appetite. Thanks to that, she's very small and frail; almost gaunt under her clothes. The type who looks like she might blow away in a strong breeze.

Unpopular opinion: Apparently some people didn't want to see her get a redemption arc??? I'm extremely glad that she is getting one, though. After everything she's been through, she deserves a chance to heal and move forward.

A wish: Is it too tall of an order to say that I want her to get to live peacefully with the few surviving friends she has left? ;_;

An oh-god-please-don't-ever-happen: She's lost so many of her girls already, including Sakuya, who was one of her best friends. Please don't let her lose anyone else...

5 words to best describe them: Wounded, sociable, driven, calculating, tired

My nickname for them: Usually just "Yuna", but sometimes I call her "little oni" because she is indeed a very small oni.

#yuna post ft. juriyuna essay #magia record #kureha yuna #asks #long post #hc post

[ambriel-angstwitch]

From Eden through the Lens of Merthur

Babe There's something tragic about you

Merlin is ultimately a tragic character, he constantly tries to stop things and in all his efforts he just makes it worse.

Something so magic about you Don't you agree?

But there’s also magic to Merlin. And not just in the clear obvious way but he naturally draws people in. He gains adoration and interest so easily. (Also these two first parts juxtapose something typically bad with something good)

Babe There's something lonesome about you Something so wholesome about you Get closer to me

Once again there’s that juxtaposition. Now this line comes off as more about Arthur but it can be either way.

Arthur was a very lonesome character before Merlin. He never had deep connections with anyone because people were always to scared and respectful towards him since he was the Prince. But then also Arthur is so loyal, kind and honorable, he wants to help people and would die for those he loves

Then there’s Merlin who told Arthur “I just didn’t fit in anymore. I wanted to find somewhere that I did.”. Merlin who’s the last of his kind (dragon lord). Merlin who’s magical but not part of the community. Merlin who’s immortal. But Merlin also came to Camelot with bright eyes and quick wit. Merlin also didn’t like the idea of killing animals. (So this line also can apply to Merlin)

No tired sighs, no rolling eyes, no irony No 'who cares', no vacant stares, no time for me

This line is the realization in the last season that they’re missing the key prices of their relationship the witty banter, the feigned annoyance. Instead it is replaced by the feeling that they both seem to be putting other things first (though Merlin is actually just trying to save Arthur’s life)

Honey, you're familiar like my mirror years ago

There’s something familiar about eachother after all they’re eachothers’ other half. They just fit so well together and mirror eachother (born magically but powerless vs born naturally but full of magic I could go on). But there’s also a sense of nostalgia to their relationship especially later on as they are the only constants in eachothers lives.

Idealism sits in prison

Not really Merthur related but Lance is who picture as idealism (in this song at least). He believed in Merlin, he believed in Arthur, he believed in the ideals of the knights and what they were supposed to be. That landed him in prison for impersonating a noble, that killed him, and he was brought back only to land in prison again (then he died again).

chivalry fell on its sword

Chivalry is Arthur and well I think you guys know what this means. Arthur was always ready to die for Camelot and in the end he did by a sword fashioned in the same way as his own,

Innocence died screaming, honey, ask me I should know

This is the Merlin line. He was innocent when he came to Camelot, he had yet to witness an execution, he didn’t know what destiny had in store for him, and he had yet to kill anyone and maybe not even anything since he seems to dislike hunting. But that all ended he was forced to take up a mantle, he had to kill, he was tortured, he could have been killed and in the end it all came to naught.

I slithered here from Eden just to sit outside your door

What is really interesting is the wording of slithered because that is the snake the inciter of evil. Merlin is something seen as inherently evil by the kingdom he came to. He risked his safety (Eden) to stay in a kingdom which would have him killed just to be a foot note in Arthur’s story. We know Merlin’s importance but Merlin didn’t expect recognition he stayed in the shadow saving Arthur’s life and dealing with his clothes.

Babe There's something wretched about this Something so precious about this Where to begin?

They’re relationship would have been seen as wrong for many reasons, but they held it preciously, it was the best things in their lives. They are eachothers’ everything so they wouldn’t even begin to be able to express what they feel and would do for eachother.

Babe There's something broken about this but I might be hoping about this Oh, what a sin

Once again touching on how their relationship would have been interpreted as wrong. In the later seasons their relationship is falling apart they’ll argue and not in the joking way they would before but they wanted things to get better. They were doomed but Merlin was always trying to change that.

To the strand a picnic plan for you and me A rope in hand for your other man to hang from a tree

So picnics were a romantic date the Arthur and Gwen had on multiple occasions. So I imagine while Merlin is happy for them he also is sitting on the sidelines wishing it was him. But Merlin also knows that he’s the other man destiny says Arthur and Gwen are meant to be married. He knows that should Arthur find his magic he might just end up hanging.

#Spotify #merthur #hozier analysis #hozier #merthur analysis #bbc merlin #merlin bbc #merlin emrys #arthur pendragon #king arthur #bbc merthur #song analysis #song interpretation

[fabseg-reader]

Miraculous: Tales in the Opposite Universe (Inversed Personas AU): Chapter One part 2/3

This story is an fanfiction (Not an official script for an épisode of the TV show). Some characters result from Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug and Cat Noir (original title Miraculous: Les aventures de Ladybug et Chat Noir). It contains some original characters (OC) but they're fanon. All rights reserved to Zagtoon.

Part one part three

A red black-dotted pot of glue appears on her hands. It's Ladybug's turn to have a plan. She observes the two duelists who are fighting against each other before hearing a voice shouting: "I searched you, Chanceux." Labybug believes Cat Noir had come first. Meanwhile she immediatly finds out it's not him but HER. -RC (reassured while still battling against Lycène): "You are just in time, Alley Cat. A guest superheroin is helping us. I will talk about her once it will be ended." -AC: "I wish, Chanceux. (to Lycène) This is your last dance, Lycène !" For Ladybug, no problem for the plan. Thanks to the intervention of Alley Cat, she understands they can win. They corner Lycène against the packed roundabout (while Ladybug is busy to cover the entire cage of paper with glue). Lycène is going to be exhausted. She's going to panic. -LyB (thinking while in distress): "No. No. NOO !" In fact, it wasn't the first time the villainess was in situation of despair. The butterfly girl had already been close to be arrested in the time twice before. She knows too well: If she's arrested she will never be able to grant her wish (she needed the Ladybug and Cat Miraculouses for the process). At present, All Lycène needs is a miracle. Ladybug gives the signal from the back of the paper cage. -LB: "Send her in there. Now !" -RC (thinking): "That's exactly the same plan I had imagined. Thanks, lord." -RC and AC (simultaneous): "With pleasure, Ladybug." Combining yo-yo and stuff, Rouge Chance and Alley Cat throw Lycène in the air together. While she's falling, Lycène Bleue is shouting desperately: "HEEELP !!" They were finally going to catch the Butterfly when suddenly… Cat Noir (who was only hearing the cry of the "damsel in distress") saves the latter in extremis ! Seeing that, the three other heroes are collectively surprised: "Oh No !" -CN: Are you okay, "princess Sapphire" ? Lycène is understanding this "catboy from another world" isn't really aware who is she. She takes opportunity of that for find an escape. -LyB (acting innocence): "Merci beaucoup, handsome Cat. (becoming seductive) I have a gift for you." Her words confuse Cat Noir. LB: "Cat Noir. Get away from…" Lycène kisses Cat Noir on the lips letting him blushed (her gesture surprise the three heroes especially Ladybug becoming embarrassed) !

Now the villainess takes back her sword lying on the nearby ground, she suddenly disarm out the latter of his stuff and she takes him as hostage stupifying him. -LyB (mocking at Cat Noir): "I can't believe you fell for that." Ladybug, Rouge Chance and Alley Cat step forward for try to help Cat Noir but they stopped because Lycène's holding him in her arms immobilize him too well. -LyB (to the heroes): "Freeze, Throw all yours miraculouses or I'll cut his hand." -CN: "It's not over yet. Cata…" Lycène moves her blade on his right hand where the ring is. Her gesture silents her prey. -LyB (menacing, to Cat Noir): "It will happen too if you try to use your Cataclysm." They find themselves powerless in this situation. -LyB: "What do you decide ?" Ladybug is trying to restrain her rage. How can this girl be capable of such evil ? She's worse than Chloé and Lila. No ! She could be worse than Monarch. In her mind, she must find an escape for Cat Noir but she hasn't time enough. It remains three minutes for her before detransformation. And Chance, one minute. Meanwhile, Alley Cat is resentful and she hasn't actived her Cataclysm yet. She needs to use that in this situation. But Chance, by a gesture from the head, forbids her to make a move. -RC (low tone): "I'm sorry, friends. I'm sorry, Alley Cat. But I will tale a risk myself." To everyone's surprise, Rouge Chance throws down his yo-yo. -RC (to Lycène): "You won, Lycène Bleue. I surrender. Release him but don't hurt him." -AC: "Chance ?!" -RC (low tone): "Trust me. And say to Cerise I've made my job as Rouge Chance and I loved her. " He steps forward Lycène raising his arms. -RC: "I give up my Miraculous. Spots off !" Rouge Chance's suit disappears. Tikki the kwami of Creation emerges from earrings. The other heroes find out a brown-haired teenage boy. His choice surprises them. Even the villainess. -RC's Tikki (to the boy): "Are you crazy ?!" -LyB: "Oh! That was you since all this time ?" When Cat Noir perceive this revealed civilian, he's wondered. This boy reminds him like… -CN (thinking): "Wayhem ?" -AC: "Wayhem ?!" Wayhem stops and spreads his arms forward. At the present, He holds one earring in each hand. Lycène puts her sword away from her prisoner. For Cat Noir, it means she's letting her guard down. -AC: "What are you doing ?" -Wayhem: "Calm down, Kitty. (to Lycène) Move yours arms, come and get them !"

It's an opportunity for Cat Noir when Lycène loosens the stranglehold He profites of that for make a headbutt back against her destabilizing her. On this action, she looses her sword meanwhile, in same time, she catches the Cat by the left arm. -CN: "UUUAAH !!" Lycène throws the latter in the paper cage and she picks his stuff assuring to her preventing to fall on the ground. Feeling bas about this, Wayhem feeds Tikki with a cookie and tries to retransforms himself. -W: "Tikki, spot…" Lycène knocks out Wayhem with the staff. She's picking up the latter's earings but… AC (feral): "Cataclysm !" She interrupted by a feral Alley Cat who tries to DESTROY her. But the Butterflygirl is too agile: She retrieves her cane-sword while she dodges her enemy's attacks in same time. She's going to place her sword on the Alley Cat's Cataclysm causing her extinguishment. Unable to re-use her power twice Alley Cat is defeated again in a stuff-fencing duel (And about to be defeated twice by the butterflygirl in the same day is humiliating for Cerise). The Catgirl is now at the mercy of her nemesis who is going to pick the Cat's ring. -LyB: "It Looks like the luck has abandoned you all. You and Chance and "foreigners"." That's when Ladybug attacks Lycène Bleue with her yo-yo. The villainess anticipates the attack and she dodges this. Meanwhile, that's the Ladybug's plan: Get the enemy away from Alley Cat. With her yo-yo in action, she catches the Catgirl and she's bringing her back before moving to near the paper cage where Cat Noir was already trapped in (the latter struggled in vain). Now, she stands up against Lycène and protects the two Cats and a still unconscious Wayhem. She's spinning her yo-yo with right hand and takes Alley Cat in her left arm. -AC (exhausted): "Merci, girl." -LB: "Pas de quoi, Alley Cat. (to Lycène) Don't forget me, Lycène. I am still on the party. Come here." -LyB: "I don't think so, "Chance Girl". I let you two options: Let me go and repair the damages OR run after me and there won't be repair for entire Paris." Labybug is thinking to the pot of glue she had summoned. The object was at her feets. She pauses her yo-yo. She picks up it. She tries to think about an ultimate action but it's not easy. Ladybug already understood the Lycène's speech is causing her a dilemna. -LB (resigned): "Well." To save her partners and Paris is the priority. She throws the pot in the air saying the spell. -RC's Tikki (worried): "Don't listen her, holder ! Don't…" -AC: "No. Wait…" -L: "Miraculous Ladybug !"

And the lucky charm is making her effect: All the damages in Paris are reversed (as example: The Eiffel Tower is repaired). Cat Noir is freed from the glue. The paper cage had disappeared. Alley Cat's revitalized. Wayhem's waking up. And now, Ladybug thinks about trying to arrest Lycène meanwhile ss already fleeing on the rooftops. The latter stops herself and mets a evil smile from afar. -LyB: "That was a pleasure to meet you. (taking a singing tone before laughing) Au revoooir." -LB: "Hey ! Stay back !" Ladybug is going to chase Lycène but her earings are beeping. Damned ! It remains ONE minute plus one quarter for her. -LB: "I am sincerely sorry, folks." -CN: "This isn't your fault, Ladybug. I am the responsible." -AC (interpelling Cat Noir): "Of course you're the responsible. You caused this disastrous result to us, you dumb Cat. Lycène's escaped again. She has left with one Ladybug's earrings' pair in her hands. (becoming more angrier against him) We could have arrested this devillish Butterfly with the glue trap if you weren't intervened !" -W (yelling): "NO." The three heroes look at Wayhem . -W: "Don't blame yourselves or anyone else. I AM the ONE responsible. I has taken the risk. I have abandoned my Miraculous for saving us all. I believed in my ultimate distraction against her would work. I was naive. Lycène has got one of the two Miraculouses she wanted now." -LB: "You honestly speak, Wayhem. But without your action, Cat Noir could have lost more than his Miraculous. We aren't introduced ourselves: I am Ladybug, Cat Noir is my partner and we two come from another parallel world. An akumatized villain teleported us." -W: "You must say "Voyager" ? Yes. And I had already figured out about you two. (indicating to Ladybug her beeping earrings) We will talk about that for a next time because you will be detransformed, miss Ladybug. We will ses soon." -LB: "Oh… Okay. (to Wayhem and Alley Cat) See you later, people. (to Cat Noir) See you soon, Chaton." -CN: "Fine, ma Lady." Ladybug and Cat Noir leave the place in separate ways. It remains Alley Cat and Wayhem. -AC (stammering): "Can I take you home, Rouge Ch… ? Excuse me… Wayhem ! Are you alright ?" -W: "Don't exhaust yourself for me. I enjoyed to work with you, Kitty. But today, it's over." -AC (worried): "Wayhem ?" -W (falling down in sadness): "I will no longer be Rouge Chance anymore. I wish you "Good luck" for the future. Au revoir." Wayhem runs away. -AC: "WAIT !" He was already far away from Alley Cat.

In a shadowed narrow alley, Ladybug detransforms herself. -LB: "Spots off !" Marinette was confused in her own mind. She makes the point about what she went through today. Near, there is Tikki who is eating her cookie Marinette gave her. The kwami joins Marinette for the point of the situation. -Tikki: "Are you okay, Marinette ?" -Marinette: "I seem scrambled, Tikki." -T: "I can confirm to you this world is not our world." Marinette's gasping in reaction to Tikki's explanation but she begins to calm down herself. -M: "Of course, you're right. We are trapped in this parallel world. There is Voyager. He must be still akumatized. In fact, we haven't defeated him yet. Let's summarize the day: Cat Noir and I were at the Arc-de-Triomphe for patrolling. The akuma from this parallel world appeared to us. He teleported us to HIS world with his powerful lights. Now, Chaton and I are lost in here. (going to panicking) Oh MY GOSH ! Adrien ! Alya ! My friends ! They're finding out I was missing in our world but they don't know I was in another world." -T: "It's looks like strange about Voyager: He spoke about "fleeing in another world without meeting Ladybug and Cat on his path". I don't think he wanted to steal your Miraculouses." -M (finding her calm): "They must exist multiple worlds with their own Ladybug and Cat Noir duos as Rouge Chance and Alley Cat. Their miraculouses can grant the Ultimate Power to their possessors." -T: "Let me remind you the Reality is not a plaything. Our powers are based on the Creation and the Destruction. Our Reality's laws apply to our initial universe. Same laws apply to this other universe where we are. I say that you because I've sensed my parallel couterpart's aura identical to mine. Nobody must play with laws of the Reality. That's the reason why the Ladybug's and Cat's Miraculouses must never be combined." -M: "Yeah. You're right, Tikki. Our new goal: To stop this another Butterfly vilkain named Lycène Bleue, to defeat Voyager at the moment when he could appear here and to force him to bring us back home. But if he couldn't, I'll use my Lucky Charm. That could theorically work." -T: "So. Time to go back ?" -M (excited): "Let's go to join Cat Noir for find a way how -?: "Excuse me, girl. I didn't want to interrupt your discuss with your kwami but…" Alerted in her mind, Marinette turns to see behind. A brown cut-haired girl is in front of her. -C: "Is that you, Marinette ?" -M (gasping and thinking): "Who the hell are you ? You look familiar. How can you know my name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng ?" -C: "Forgive me. I didnt want to afraid you. I tried to accompany Wayhem but he ran away. I lost track of him. I went here to detransfom myself when I noticed your presence in this alley. Since a dozen seconds, I was listenning your conversation about "to be sent in another parallel world", "track down the Akuma named Voyager" and "stop another Butterfly villain" with your…" The girl notices Tikki hiding in Marinette's back. She frowns one eyebrow. -C: "…your Kwami, right ? Isn't it Tikki, right ?" At this instant, Marinette believes the girl is suspecting her to be Lycène. She begins to be nervous. -M: "Let me explain, girl. In fact, I am…" -C: "You're one of these two heroes from another parallel world, right ? I believe you, my friend." -M: "Yes. You got me. (begging) But please, don't tell to everybody !" -C: "I've already guessed, "other Marinette". I will not tell your secret identity as Ladybug. It's a promise. You must know there is a Marinette from my world. I am sorry to surprising you. I forgot to introduce myself: My name is Cerise Lenoir and I am Alley Cat."

When Marinette sees Plagg appearing from Cerise's pocket, she is a bit of curious: Cerise had taken her attention, she recognizes it. AC's P: "Nice to meet you, Ladybug." Marinette (confident): "Hi Plagg. I know your counterpart in my homeworld." AC's P: "Okay. I see… (to Tikki) And hi, "Sucrette"." T (irritated): "Don't call me "Sucrette" even if you come from another universe, Plagg !" AC's P (to Marinette): "Like you can see, Cerise is not just my holder. She's the guardian of the Miracle Box." M (astounded): "Guardian of WHAT ?! Of course. From your universe. (back to normal) In my universe, I am myself the guardian of the Miracle Box, see you ?" Cerise wonders about this information. C: "I believe you, other Marinette." M: Why are you calling me "other Marinette" ? Oh ! It's because there is another myself who living in this world, right ? C: "Affirmative. But this Marinette looks like you. Meanwhile, her persona isn't the same." M (taking a bit of fascinated): "Isn't the same ? Isn't she clumsy like I am ? The opposite of being frustated, huh ? Wait. She's the opposite of ME ?!" C: "That's a long story. Follow me to my home. I will tell you." M: "As you wish, Cerise." The two girls and their kwamis begin to walk together. They're walking in the streets of Paris. C: "Tomorrow is an other day: I'll present you to our friends at the site of the ship's wreck: We called it Liberty. It's at the border of the Seine." M: "You're saying "The boat Liberty" ?" C: "Yep. Is there a boat Liberty at your homeworld ? Is there a Françoise Dupont middle school here too ?" M: "Of course. There is one in here too." The two girls are laughing together. And a new adventure begin for Marinette at this moment.

<-previous next->

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous au #miraculous fanfic #opposite au #opposite universe #miraculous inversed personas #inversed personas au #my writing

[pomegranates-and-blood]

Desire

My Masterlist

Pairing: Ivar/Female!Succubus!Reader

Summary: From this list, the (loosely taken) prompts “Is this a dream, or a nightmare?” and “You stepped into my territory, which means you belong to me. And I don’t let things that are mine go.” 

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: 18+. Succubus!Reader (btw, everything that the characters partake in is consensual. Ik I probably don’t have to tell you that, but to me there’s some implication of dubcon or noncon in Succubus/Incubus stories, so just in case), smut, D/s dynamics, sub!Ivar, some choking and biting/marking as always, and a bit of blood.

A/N: Hi! It’s been a very long time since I’ve written anything for Ivar, much less smut for Ivar, so I apologize in advance if this is OOC or just not very good. Still, I hope you like this!

Also, lets assume this is an AU where he knows his dick works. Also also, this takes place around the taking of York.

Fyi, this quote owns my soul and it shows: “I thought I knew hunger before this. I found that kind of touch unbearable. To witness. To want. Desire is ugly. Incessant. Shaped like two hands wrapped around a throat.” By S.K. Osborn.

I wanted to write something for spooky season, hence this, but my thoughts are apparently too horny to go in a horror direction, so smut it is. Happy very late Halloween! 🎃

Btw, if you recognize a line of the show at the beginning there, I’m proud of ya 😉 It literally means nothing tho, it is my own way of teasing Ivar through quasi-meta writing.

Desire was something Ivar always resented. It wrenched control from his grasp, it reduced him to nothing but want. It was incessant, unbearable.

He often thought of his desire, of this wretched longing for what has always been beyond his grasp, and pictured it like two hands wrapped around his throat. A defeat that he was too weak to keep himself from, a set of shackles so painfully human, a weakness he is powerless to ignore.

Yet with your body moving above his, your tight, wet heat enveloping his cock and driving pleasure like lightning over his skin, down his spine, pooling low in his belly; he arches his back off the bed, head tilted back and throat bared to you, and when your hands wrap around his throat, he offers only a haggard moan. His defeat is something he seeks now, his shackles now keep him tethered and grounded, weakness has no place on his body that now sings under the pleasure you draw from him.

Your breaths are ragged and fast and in his head echoes the realization that such a reaction is because of him, your eyes darker than he has ever seen them as you force him by will alone to keep his gaze focused on you, and with a smile of bloodstained teeth you lean closer.

You retrace the marks you have already left ruthlessly, teeth closing once again over weak flesh, tongue roughly soothing away the pain of the blood drawn; and Ivar can do nothing but writhe uselessly underneath you, hoarse calls to nothing as air is robbed of his lungs, as thoughts are driven from his mind, as everything fades except you and this maddening want.

You continue the path downwards from his clavicle, alternating between bites and kisses and Ivar can’t quite decide which one is worse, which one tortures him the most, which one might make him lose his mind for good.

You stop right over his heart, your hands no longer pressing against his throat -yet he can’t draw in air, and realizes force was never what kept him powerless-, instead trailing down his sides until they stop at his waist.

In between hurried breaths that stumble over one another, Ivar tries returning control to himself, tries having his body obey, and looks down to meet your gaze. You smile, wolfish and dark, and utter a single word,

“Mine.”

He cannot contain the hoarse yell that leaves him when you sink your teeth on the skin over his heart, pleasure and pain intertwining until all he can do is surrender to it.

Just as he feels the pain of your mark on him and the pleasure of your heat around him threaten to take him further underwater, to push him over the edge, he feels your weight disappear from above him, and with you both pleasure and pain fade to almost nothing.

And he’s left jolting up in his bed, chasing the touch and the warmth of a ghost that was never truly there.

With a grunted curse, Ivar drops himself back on the bed, dragging his hands over his face. It is almost bitterly that he does his best to ignore the hardness in his pants, the evidence of his body betraying him.

It has been entirely too long of this madness. He isn’t sure if it has been weeks, or months, it feels like an eternity anyhow.

You have been haunting his dreams, taunting him by always being too far from his reach, ever since he and the army took York, and you, the woman the Saxons spoke of as a ‘demon’, decided to stay instead of fleeing with the rest of the town.

He has barely seen you a few times, he has only heard your voice when he catches you talking with people in the market, and yet your face and body are burned in his memory so that even behind closed lids he can’t escape you, and your voice is painfully familiar to him a if he has saved the sweet sound somewhere hollow in his chest so he can recall it whenever he wants to.

Ivar is certain you are somehow doing this on purpose, that you have cursed him, or…or bewitched him in some way. This is not his fault, he is not like his brothers, he isn’t to be so easily rendered mindless by desire.

He refuses to let you get away with this, to let you keep playing with him like this. You will give him answers, and you will leave York.

The next night he refuses to go to sleep, and pretends there isn’t a part of him that wants to sleep, wants to dream of you again; and instead waits for night to fall, and only then starts the slow trek to the home in the outskirts of the town.

The door to your home isn’t locked, and with rightful anger and a strange humiliation burning away at him, Ivar doesn’t have it in him to pretend to be above barging into the house.

He finds you standing by a window in the small home, your back to the door as you work on what looks to be a wreath of dried branches and flowers.

You don’t turn around, and in anyone else Ivar would be inclined to write it off to his steps being very much telling of who it is that approached, but he can’t shake off the feeling that you keeping your back to him is a dare, a threat.

Letting him hear the smile in your tone when you say, sing-song tilt to your voice,

“Please, don’t just stand there,” Finally you turn around, and the smile is as wolfish as he was expecting. The words echo in his head like he has heard them before, and the mocking tone in your voice only manages to tangle his thoughts on that impression. You gesture with one hand, “Come in.”

“Who are you?” He asks instead, eyes venturing to study the place you have made your home but unable to resist the pull to return to you, to your eyes that haven’t left his.

Your smile makes your eyes narrow just a bit. Ivar has the errant thought that you narrowed your eyes and are smiling to mask it, though.

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking that? You are the one stepping into my territory,” With a chuckle at your own words, you step forward, and amend, “My home.”

He holds his place, both refusing to step back against your almost threatening approach, and refusing to let go of his inquiry.

“I asked first.”

You insist on keeping up the smile and the mask it provides, motioning with your hand to the bed, which seems to be the only possible seat, and order,

“Sit,” Ivar frowns, at the tip of his tongue sharp words about how you must be forgetting who he is if you think you can order him around, but he saves them when your smile softens. The way you are looking at him as you take a seat at the foot of the bed is different, not so performative, not so calculated, yet it still puts him on edge. He feels like you are hunting him, like you are…toying with him. Before the realization can take root in his head, before he can let his thoughts chase themselves in circles, before he can feel the cold and the distant but familiar ache of shame, of being mocked, you speak again, “If you come sit with me, I will answer your questions, Ivar.”

He frowns, “You know my name.”

“Would you prefer I didn’t?”

“I would prefer if you were honest.”

“I am,” You answer simply. Biting back a sigh, Ivar walks towards you, trying to read your expression and understand what your thoughts are as you watch him approach you. When he finally sits next to you, trying and failing to ignore the heady scent of lavender and something else, something darker, that seems to surround you and cling to the furs of this bed, you nod your head, a silent praise that isn’t lost to him. Neither is lost to him the way it affects him to know such thing. “Thank you.”

He twirls the crutch in his hand but realizes that gives away his restlessness and instead rests it by his side on the bed; and instead studies you in silence for a few breaths, not really sure what to do with his hands so he just sets them on his thighs, and not really sure what to think about how close you are to him but there is nothing he can do to help that.

Instead, he returns to his curiosity. Ivar has a feeling you are skittish about direct questions, so instead he starts,

“There are whispers, about what you are. The Saxons said you were a…demon, that you are sworn to their devil.”

This time in your smile you don’t bother hiding the satisfaction, and Ivar looks away, clearing his throat and feeling shame burn away at him at the warmth that fills his chest at knowing he has done something to please you again. This pathetic warmth he so craves, it leaves him restless and pliant at the same time, and though he wants to confront you about what you are doing to him with nothing but your smile and your voice, he cannot do so without admitting to more than he wishes to; so he has no choice but to stay quiet.

You startle him when you slowly reach for him, letting your fingers trail up the inside of his forearm before the slowly, torturously, trail back up. Ivar holds his breath, watches you in silence and the words die on his lips. He has the errant thought that with such a simple touch it feels like your small hands are wrapped around his throat, that with nothing but a caress you’ve shackled and defeated him.

But he does not dare stop you, does not want to. If anything, he wants more, but he is starting to realize what rules you play by, offering softness when he does as you say and offering your touch when he shows he can play your game; and above demanding more he wants to earn it.

“And what do you say I am?” You venture, lifting your darkened gaze from the aimless path of your fingers to meet his eyes again. Your smile widens, teasing, before you add, “Don’t say a witch.”

You startle a chuckle from him, his shoulders loosening some of the tension for a moment.

“There aren’t many things I can think of,” And how true that is, he can barely think when you are sitting so close to him, when you are still tracing invisible lines over his arm and leaving a burning trail after your touch. “Are you…mortal?”

You furrow your lips to hide the widening of your smile, and he cannot help but find it endearing.

“I am just like you, Ivar. I just happen to be drawn to…desire.”

“Desire.”

“Mhm,” Your hummed affirmation sounds like a rumble, a purr. Your head tilts to the side, smile widening, wolfish. “Your people revel in it. The bloodlust during a fight, the…well, lust that comes after a good battle. It is…intoxicating, to one such as me.”

He almost wants to argue that you are the intoxicating one, that there has to be some truth to the tales the Christians would speak of you and how you drove men mad with desire, with need.

But he plays by the rules, not really sure why he feels so compelled to, not really sure why he is funding such solace in following your lead.

“Is that why you are in York?” Is that why you torment me?

“I was here before you.” You answer simply, but Ivar shakes his head.

“That’s not what I meant. I’m sure the Christians lusted after you as much as any of us.”

“Us?” You repeat, and Ivar feels his face burn with embarrassment for a moment, gritting his teeth at the admission you so effortlessly pulled from him. Still, you drop the teasing expression soon enough, the smallest of furrows between your brows as you explain, “I do not need to be lusted after, nor do I want to. That is not why I linger here.”

“Then…then why do you appear in my dreams?” He ventures, turning his head to look at you, trying desperately to find any answers yet petrified at the thought of those answers being that his dreams are nothing but dreams, that he is making up in his head anything more than this, that he is deluding himself into thinking you somehow want him.

“Dreams?” You repeat slowly, a glint in your eye. Refusing to give away anything more, Ivar holds your gaze in silence. Your tone speaks of a secret, of teasing, when you admit, “I have been having…strange dreams too.”

“So they aren’t dreams.”

Your gaze lowers to his chest, and the heat of your gaze feels almost exactly like the trail of your mouth did, down from his neck until you stop right over his heart.

Lifting a brow, you say, “My mark isn’t there, is it?”

Your voice, a hoarse whisper with the force of a fierce command, echoes in his head, the one word he has heard you say in his dreams, the one claim he would give to none but you.

Mine, mine, mine.

“I don’t…I don’t understand.”

“I am drawn to desire, but I have desires of my own,” His breath hitches in his throat as you lean closer, and he knows you notice, it is written in the way you linger for a moment, letting him feel your faint breath on the side of his neck before you speak, lowly, almost a secret, “Power.”

There’s a moment where he feels cold creep up on him, a painful realization as his worst thoughts whisper that the only reason you are close is that he conquered York, that he leads the Great Army. For too long he thinks it is worth it to let you get close, even if you want the power he wields and not him, if that means he gets to have you, be yours.

But you dispel such thoughts, such worries, with but a touch. For your hand, daring, burning him with the simple touch, comes to rest on his chest, right above his heart.

Where your mark blossoms each night and where it disappears from each morning.

“You are…you are unlike anyone I have ever met, Ivar. I can feel the power you wield; I hear it in your voice when you talk to them, I see it in their eyes when they look at you,” You lean closer, tilting your chin up just slightly, and his breath stutters at the promise of a kiss you aren’t quite granting yet. Heart beating wildly at your praise, he wonders dazedly if you can hear it, he wonders how it is possible he can still hear you as you continue, “And I can taste your ambition, Ivar, your bloodthirst,” Ivar cannot help but lean just slightly towards you, the silent plea he doesn’t dare voice and you do not answer to. But your gaze still travels to his mouth, and when you lick your lips, he imagines it is because you crave the taste of him as he does of you, and has to bite back a whimper. Your voice washes over him, a whisper, a breath, “Your desire.”

He isn’t sure why having you admit to seeing such things, to feeling such things, shames him the way it does. Desire has always been a shameful thing, most shameful when it is him who feels it. Ivar, always wanting things beyond his reach, hoping for what he does not deserve.

It isn’t with scorn or mockery that you say it, and it burns all the more because of it. He feels as if he has been bared of any armor, and with gentle touches and a soft voice you’ve lured him into facing the more pitiful parts of himself, voicing the truths you see and he wishes he could ignore.

The smile he attempts at offering you is rueful, pitiful, but he makes sure to look away before catching your reaction. It petrifies him to imagine you might look at him with pity.

“Hm.” He offers, and even in the short sound his voice wavers.

You don’t waver, instead turning in your place to face him better, and though Ivar knows you are trying to get him to meet your eyes, he cannot bring himself to do so.

He hides well the instinct to flinch when your free hand reaches to cup his face, lest you think he doesn’t want your hands on him; and grits his teeth but obeys when you gently prompt him to meet your gaze.

There is no pity in the softness of your gaze, there is no mockery in the sharp curve of your smile. There is hunger, there is darkness, but he isn’t sure he could imagine you without either.

“That is why I have stayed, that is why in my dreams I seek you,” You admit, unwavering, ardent. Your hand starts a slow path upwards, until it rests at the base of his throat, and it takes everything in him not to move into the touch, not to seek the press of your hand against his throat. You lean closer, or maybe he does, helpless under the spell of your darkened gaze, and with your lips a breath away from his own you whisper, “Because I desire you. And I want you to say yes.”

The word stumbles past his lips before you are even done speaking, a plea, a whimper,

“Yes.” Please.

But you shake your head, hand continuing to creep up until you are holding him by the throat, keeping him looking at you. As if he’d ever look away.

“No, my sweet,” You chastise, and the rejection cannot sting right now, not when the term of endearment leaving your lips washes over him, not when being spoken so softly to by you is making Ivar’s eyes flutter shut. “If you give in to me, if you surrender, it has to be because you want to.”

“I want to. I-I want you, I-…” Admitting desire should be difficult, his words should be weighted with each time he dared hope and was rejected, his voice should waver with the shame of being weak enough to feel longing; but he finds the admission comes easily to him, and leaves him weightless once it is done. “Please.”

You smile, pleased, and with that smile returns to him that same warmth from before, that restless peace that comes with knowing he has been good, has made you happy.

“Please what, hm?”

“Please, t-touch me, take me, just-…” The words stumble past his lips and he feels his face burning more and more with each one, and judging by the way you’re looking at him you aren’t planning on stopping him; so instead he stops himself, stalls his breath for a moment before he dares admits a more coveted desire, “K-Kiss me?”

The hand on his cheek offers a caress that makes his chest pull tight, and slowly, torturously, you lean to cross the distance between you. The anticipation building within him is enough to make pleas almost leave his lips again, but Ivar holds himself still, awaiting with baited breath for the moment you bring your lips to his.

He could cross this little distance between you, could end this dance you seem to enjoy extending, but he wants you to be the one to kiss him. Foolish, pathetic maybe, but Ivar wants to be kissed, wants to be touched, not because he demands it, but because you want to, because you want him enough to no longer stand the distance between you.

And with one last stuttered breath against his lips, you bring him to you, the hand on the side of his face holding the back of his neck as you take control of the kiss, your tongue venturing past the seam of his lips and making a choked moan leave his lips before he can stop it.

He loses himself in the feel of your kiss, in the subtle taste of you, in the electrifying warmth of your hands on him; and when you tug almost petulantly at the shirt he wears, Ivar rushes to take it off, as desperate to feel your skin against his as he hopes you are.

Humming contentedly, you trail warm hands over his chest. Ivar remains still under your touch, eyes taking in your expression, breath hitching at the want he sees shining clearly in your gaze. He still cannot believe you are looking at him like that, that him and his body are what makes you look so…hungry.

That same hunger, that same desire, makes heat pool low on his belly when you kiss him again, sends a shiver down his spine when your hands grasp and touch at whatever part of him you wish to.

Your hands grabbing a hold of his wrists startle him, but he remains pliant under your touch as you move his arms up over his head.

Still, he has to ask, “Why?”

You dart quickly for a peck on his lips, smile pressed in a quick kiss against his own smiling lips.

“Because I can,” You retort, letting go of his wrists to trail your hands down his chest, over his sides, as you rest your weight on him. “Because I want to.”

Ivar tilts his head up, a silent request to have you kiss him again, and you comply, kissing him deeply and sighing quietly against his lips as you part. The darkness in your gaze, the subtle mark of him on your lips, the heaviness of your breaths, it gets to him more than he thought it would, they are small pieces to prove he affects you at least slightly.

And knowing you want him, knowing you want him like this, it leaves him breathless, mindless.

Whatever words, whatever attempt at a retort was to leave his lips dies on his throat when you nuzzle at the side if his neck, demanding silently that he bare his throat to you.

He feels your smile against his skin, pressed in a soft kiss, a gentle prelude to the pain he knows is to come. It is all so strikingly familiar, to be here with you, like this.

“I-Is this a dream, o-or…?” His words die in a shaky breath, and try as he might he can do nothing but surrender to the feeling of your hot breaths on the sensitive skin of his neck, his head tilting back in the silent plea for more that he wouldn’t voice even if he could have his body obey him right now.

Your short laugh is teasing, almost fond, sending a shiver down Ivar’s spine.

“Or a nightmare?” You finish for him. It wasn’t exactly what he wanted to say, but with the way your thigh is torturously teasing in its drag over his cock over his pants, he dazedly wonders if perhaps it is a nightmare. So close to having what he wants, yet powerless to do anything to take it.

But this powerlessness does not feel like torture. Ever since you first said his name and your strange accent clung to it, the short word on your lips sounding like something entirely more delicate than it is, Ivar has felt control steadily be stripped away from him; and though it is something he desperately craves, right now control -over what’s happening, over his body, over himself- feels yours to have, whatever power he might have past these walls he knows he can surrender to you.

And neither does this weightlessness feel like drowning. With each touch you drag him further and further down, and with your scent, lavender and something just yours, you cloud his senses and his thoughts, letting him forget anything but you and your body against his; it almost feels like floating underwater, nothing but his own heart beating in his ears and nothing but your hands on him keeping him tethered, and though with each touch it feels like the tether you offers threatens to pull him further underwater, he has never felt safer.

You nip at his earlobe, wrenching a short gasp from Ivar and returning his attention to the present. He realizes you said something and he couldn’t hear you, too lost in his own thoughts and the haze of being with you like this, so he amends weakly,

“Hm?”

“I asked,” You start pointedly, a reprimand clear in your tone. Ivar finds the sudden and almost urgent need to put his hands on you, to apologize for his mistake with his touch, but your previous command to keep his hands up on the headboard keeps him restrained better than any bindings ever could. He wonders absently if that is why you didn’t restrain him physically, because you want him obeying through nothing but his own resolve. You continue, “…which one you think it is. Is this a dream, or a nightmare?”

“N-No, this is…this is real.” It has to be.

“Perhaps,” You concede, a tilt to your voice that speaks of a secret you aren’t sharing. He feels the tip of one finger trail over his collarbone, and try as he might he cannot control his ragged and quickened breaths, he cannot control the answer of his body to such a simple touch. “We will see when morning comes. If these fade…”

With the speed of a predator darting for the kill, you lean closer again, biting on the skin over his shoulder hard enough that once again pleasure blends with the pain.

“Ah!”

Knowing he bears your mark again, knowing this time it might stay, it overwhelms Ivar, and tears prick at his eyes, even when he squeezes them shut.

“It was a dream, and tomorrow we will do this all over again,” You finish, pulling back. He forces himself to open his eyes, desperate to meet your gaze. Your eyes are dark, and shining with want like he’s never seen, and the way you’re looking at him, like something you hunger for, like someone you need, is enough to keep him tethered to your gaze, under your spell and awaiting for your next move. Ivar thinks dazedly of prey freezing under the steady approach of a predator, but when you lick your lips he sees the faint stain of his blood on your lips and realizes the hunt is over. Brazenly, without hesitation, you lean close again, licking over the most recent mark and making Ivar whimper at the maddening pleasure blending with lingering pain. “If they don’t…”

He knows the rules now, he understands the game, and so the words escape his lips in a gasp, a plea, finishing your sentence but sentencing him as well.

“I’m yours.”

____

Thank you for reading! Hope this was alright, I’d love to hear your thoughts on it! Thank you!

Ivar Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius​ @xbellaxcarolinax​ @1950schick​ @ietss​ @peachyboneless​ @encounterthepast​ @maggiescarborough​ @fae-sedai​  @zuxiezendler​ @crazybunnyladysworld​ @stupiddarkkside​ @northumbria​  @aprilivar​ @yourwonkywriter​  

#ivar the boneless x reader #ivar x reader #ivar the boneless imagine #ivar the boneless #ivar

[dontbipanicjonsa]

Been thinking about Dark!D*ny and

I think for me, it comes down to two things:

The utter hypocrisy re: her supposed abolitionist ways

The escalation of her power and the destruction she wreaks

Because I can't really fault her for smothering Drogo. I can't really fault her for letting Viserys die. I can't really fault her for murdering the shit out of Kraznys. I can't fault her for freeing slaves (as if). I can't even fault her for wanting revenge.

Let me explain-

I think if we compare the capture of the Lhazareen and the capture of Meereen, it paints a very clear picture of where D*ny is headed.

The Lhazareen

Ok. First, the whole 'D*ny has no power' argument has to stop. She's the khaleesi. Her husband is the khal. Of course she has power.

I'm NOT saying Drogo isn't absolutely monstrous to her. I'm not saying she chose to marry him. I'm not commenting on their relationship at all.

In a patriarchy, (upper class) women gain property/power/control over others in exchange for sexual/reproductive service. So D*ny, simply by virtue of being the khal's wife, or simply because she's pregnant with his kid (neither of which were her choice) has power.

For comparison, Cersei, who is abused by her husband, the king, still derives power from her position as Queen and mother of the princes/princess. See what I mean?

?? Drogo decides they're gonna sail to Westeros and gives his rousing speech because D*ny was almost assassinated. The attack on the Lhazareen was done in service of D*ny's conquest of Westeros. Let's repeat.

The Lhazareen were attacked to further D*ny's interests.

The Lhazareen were attacked to further D*ny's interests.

No, it wasn't for Rhaego, he's a fucking foetus he doesn't HAVE interests. It's not for Drogo, he doesn't give two shits about Westeros. IT"S FOR D*NY. And that is her 'power' in action. Her power, that she derives through her husband, because PatRiarChy. But power.

And you know what? Sure. It's fine. She didn't know what a bloodbath it was going to be. That's not her fault. And yeah, she IS ready to accept the bloodshed as necessary collateral. That is...a bit more questionable. But she does try to help some women.

Does she only help them because she can see their suffering? Probably. There's plenty of suffering not in her direct line of sight that she allows. But ok. Sure. It's not her job to save everyone (nevermind that they're suffering to further her interests).

The whole 'save them by marrying them to their rapists' thing makes me more sad than enraged. It's tragic. It's D*ny, making women marry their rapists in the same book where she married her rapist...thinking she's ok, thinking they would be ok too. It's the cycle of abuse in motion, right before our eyes.

This is an explanation I accept. All that bullshit about how powerless D*ny is? Pls. Women and children are being enslaved right there on the same page, so D*ny can win the IT, and she's powerless ?? stfu

Ok. I get it. She's not powerless, but how far does her power extend? COULD she have gotten away with getting all the newly enslaved Lhazareen freed? We'll never know. Does that absolve her?

Slaves, Dany thought. Khal Drogo would drive them downriver to one of the towns on Slaver's Bay. She wanted to cry, but she told herself that she must be strong. This is war, this is what it looks like, this is the price of the Iron Throne.

NO.

This- the capture and enslavement of the Lhazareen people- is a direct consequence of Viserys' ambitions, which is a torch that D*ny has now willingly taken up. THAT ^^^ is a price she's willing to pay, or rather- make others pay.

Buuuut it's fine. She's inexperienced, and her power is certainly limited, and hey she tried. Sure. Moving on.

Meereen

(TW: mentions of rape)

Fast forward four books and D*ny is approximately 100x times more powerful than she was in the Lhazareen scene. Let's see how she does now-

A boy came, younger than Dany, slight and scarred, dressed up in a frayed grey tokar trailing silver fringe. His voice broke when he told of how two of his father's household slaves had risen up the night the gate broke. One had slain his father, the other his elder brother. Both had raped his mother before killing her as well. The boy had escaped with no more than the scar upon his face, but one of the murderers was still living in his father's house, and the other had joined the queen's soldiers as one of the Mother's Men. He wanted them both hanged.

I am queen over a city built on dust and death. Dany had no choice but to deny him. She had declared a blanket pardon for all crimes committed during the sack. Nor would she punish slaves for rising up against their masters.

xxx

A former slave came, to accuse a certain noble of the Zhak. The man had recently taken to wife a freedwoman who had been the noble's bedwarmer before the city fell. The noble had taken her maidenhood, used her for his pleasure, and gotten her with child. Her new husband wanted the noble gelded for the crime of rape, and he wanted a purse of gold as well, to pay him for raising the noble's bastard as his own. Dany granted him the gold, but not the gelding. "When he lay with her, your wife was his property, to do with as he would. By law, there was no rape." Her decision did not please him, she could see, but if she gelded every man who ever forced a bedslave, she would soon rule a city of eunuchs.

SO anyway how is D*ny rating on the 'tried to prevent rape' scale?

She even went so far as to summon Irri, hoping her caresses might help ease her way to rest, but after a short while she pushed the Dothraki girl away. Irri was sweet and soft and willing, but she was not Daario.

Oh look she's in the negative :/

How's she doing on the slavery front? She's got all the power now...

"Your slave Missandei." Jhiqui had a taper in her hand.

"My servant. I have no slaves." Dany did not understand. "Why does she weep?"

xxx

There was no slavery in the free city of Pentos. Nonetheless, they were slaves.

...

D*enerys spends five books gaining power. How does this affect the condition of her people? Is the condition of the Meereenese better than the condition of the Lhazareen had been, all the way back in the first book? No. It's worse.

People have still been raped. People have still been enslaved/remained enslaved. People have starved. People have been brutally murdered. And at a much larger scale than book 1.

This is what it comes down to. D*ny is a villain because her climb to power is characterized by death and destruction, always. Isn't that the trademark of a villain?

D*ny is a girl who truly believes in her own PR, but when you look at her words and actions-

"The Good Master has said that these eunuchs cannot be tempted with coin or flesh," Dany told the girl, "but if some enemy of mine should offer them freedom for betraying me . . ."

"They would kill him out of hand and bring her his head, tell her that," the slaver answered. "Other slaves may steal and hoard up silver in hopes of buying freedom, but an Unsullied would not take it if the little mare offered it as a gift. They have no life outside their duty. They are soldiers, and that is all."

xxx

"No," she pleaded. "Save him, and I will free you, I swear it. You must know a way … some magic, some …"

...how much of her actions are truly altruistic? How much is performative?

Despite her anti-slavery rhetoric, D*ny consistently benefits from slavery- and slavery flourishes.

Despite her 'oh no I don't wanna bring death and destruction anywhere', her actions continue to bring exactly that- and it never stops her from doing it all over again the next time.

Not to dismiss her internal struggle. But really. Being upset at the thought that you might be a bad person doesn't make you a good person. For that matter, being worried if you're going mad or not...doesn't mean you're not (not that I'm saying she is). Seriously, where did that logic even come from? Ultimately, her internal struggle makes her a more compelling character, sure, but it doesn't actually make her a better person.

The point is, her story is absolutely rooted in hypocrisy. Her destructiveness only escalates with her power. Her so-called good intentions never pan out- because her own actions undermine them. And because she has the self-awareness of a pigeon, she never gets better.

She IS the villain who thinks she's a hero. She isn't just a villain because she's done bad things, but because she's utterly unaware (or deliberately obtuse) of the bad things she's done, and so she's incapable of learning, and so she's only getting worse.

Take a step outside her POV and it suddenly becomes clear.

Let's recap.

D*ny has-

Wayy more power in Meereen. Less in Lhazareen

D*ny did-

Less to prevent rape in Meereen. More in Lhazareen

D*ny benefitted from-

Slavery in Meereen. Slavery in Lhazareen

D*ny was-

A slaver in Meereen. A slaver in Lhazareen

D*ny wreaked-

Death and destruction in Meereen. Death and destruction in Lhazareen.

D*ny, riding high on her power-

Ordered the murder of children. And much more.

Power is NOT good for D*ny.

#dark!dany #anti daenerys targaryen #d**y stans do NOT interact #yea I censored her name twice just to be sure

[sirowsky]

Driving Mr. Tovar

Chapter 22 - Family

Description: An unexpected loss rocks the estate, and you find that it affects you more than you'd anticipated, which causes you to once again put yourself in a precarious situation.

Rating: Mature 18+ONLY Warnings: Pero x female reader, cursing, allusions to past domestic violence, angst, minor character death. Word count: 8704 Masterlist (this story) Author’s Masterlist

   You followed him to the front entrance and jumped down the front steps in a single leap, ignoring the pain that shot up through your calves, as you darted after him at heart-bursting speed.    He led you back down towards the stables, but overshot the building, running down alongside the garden towards the right edge of the meadow. Past the corral and into the woods beyond.

   By the time he slowed and came to a stop, your heart was pounding so hard that you were struggling to breathe. But you’d felt like that before, every time you'd pushed yourself to improve your personal records on any run, so you knew how to calm yourself quickly.    While you did, you kept looking at King, who was slowly approaching a shape on the ground.

   It took you a second to make out what you were seeing, but once you understood, you forgot all about your burning lungs as you leapt forwards, rounding the slumped form on the ground, looking for signs of life.

   “No, no, no… come on, don’t do this to me.”

   You weren’t sure exactly who you were speaking to, but you knew that there was no use. You couldn’t find a breath or heartbeat, and the skin had already begun to cool under a layer of sweat.    You reached into your pocket and pulled out your phone, dialing Pero with a sense of dread building in your chest.

   “What is it, Angel?” he answered on the first tone, and his voice was tight with concern.

   Something you were about to make worse, because this would surely break his heart.

   “It’s Tuck…” you breathed, feeling your own heart begin to crush under the weight of saying these words out loud. “He’s dead.”

   You paused there, waiting for him to either collapse or demand more information. But he did neither.    The line remained open, but completely silent, and you didn’t know what else to do but just tell him what little you could.

   “I can’t see any blood or injuries. But he looks… honey, he looks like he might’ve suffered.    I don’t understand what’s happened.”

   You watched as King lowered his big head over Tuck’s neck and let his lower lip trail along his mane, up to his ears, where he stopped. Using only his lips, he tugged gently at the ear that was still poking up, whining ever so slightly at his brother’s lack of response.    Pero still hadn’t answered you, and you were suddenly worried. You had no idea what a loss like this would do to him.

   “I’m so sorry, my love. I don’t know what to do…” you said, feeling that pain in your heart worsen with the recognition that you were powerless to do anything for the man or the animal, right then.

   On the other end, there was a shuffling sound, and then his low voice spoke surprisingly calmly in your ear.

   “King won’t leave him, so just stay there with them,” he finally instructed, and it somehow made you feel better, but that could’ve just been from hearing his voice. “Where are you?”

   “That’s what doesn’t make sense, we’re in the woods past the corral. How did he even get here?” you asked, turning your head to look at the horse’s legs, for signs that he’d broken out of the pen.

   “Sometimes, animals feel compelled to leave their herd if they know that they’re about to die,” he explained, still just as calm, which was making you wonder if he’d somehow shut down and was willfully keeping himself from reacting.

   “But he’s still so young…” you whispered, gently stroking Tuck’s neck.

   “Horses can drop dead where they stand. It’s more common than you think,” Pero explained, but there was a slightly forced edge to his words, as though he was leaning on facts to keep the emotions at bay. “But if he felt the urge to go and hide, then he knew that something was wrong. Perhaps his heart.    Just stay with them, King will not do well with this. I’ll be there soon.”

   “Okay,” was all you could say before disconnecting the call, as your eyes drifted up to the black, still hovering over his brother’s head.

   He was gently nudging Tuck every few seconds, and when you moved to carefully stroke his forehead, he created a high-pitched whine somehow, a bit like what dogs sometimes managed when they were really anxious about something.    He leaned into your touch but only for a moment before he pulled away, raising his head until his neck was level to the ground, and then he froze.

   He was suddenly unnaturally still, not even clipping his ears at the birds singing around him, or blinking, for that matter.    His chest heaved slowly, but you couldn’t even hear his breath, and you wondered if he, like his human brother, was trying to keep from feeling this.

   The five-minute wait for Pero to get there seemed a lot longer as you kept staring at the statue of King, feeling utterly useless to help him, and unsure of how to comfort him.    He didn’t even react as the Hilux came right up behind him, and Pero, Rose and Coulson stepped out and slammed the doors shut with low thuds.

   The other two stayed back, but your partner slowly approached Tuck, and you felt like you should give him some room, so you got up and backed away while he came around and took the spot where you’d been sitting.    He let his hands slide along the dead animal’s neck and side, and you could see tears forming in his eyes.

   “Viaje seguro, amigo,” he whispered, and his voice was so small now.

   It seemed that he could no longer hold the emotions back, now that he could see the poor boy with his own eyes, and the pain in his chest was clearly audible in the sheer effort it took for him to speak at all.    But then, he turned his attention to King, and his energy shifted from sorrow to something else. Fear maybe.    He stepped around Tuck, limping up to the black’s side and gently scratching his neck.

   “I’m here, chico. You’re not alone,” he was still whispering, but trying to be strong for his friend.

   However, the horse didn’t react at all. It was as though he couldn’t even see or feel the human’s touch, as if he was lost somewhere far away in his own mind, or perhaps a memory.    And suddenly, your Spaniard’s voice was thick with pain when he took King’s head into his arms and hugged him.

   “Don’t do this, hijo mío. Stay with me…” he begged, openly showing how much he was hurting, and it seemed to wake the horse up.

   At first, he just blinked once, and then again. But then you saw the muscles in his legs flex, and apparently Pero knew what that meant.    Because he closed his eyes hard and his shoulders slumped deeply, as he finally let the tears fall in what seemed like a terrible defeat, somehow.    He then let go of King’s head and took a step to the side, and the moment that he did, the black was gone.

   He took off into the woods so fast that you barely even managed to follow him with your eyes.    And you just stood there, in front of Tuck’s body, staring incredulously at the spot between the trees where your friend had disappeared, telling yourself that he wasn’t gone gone…    He’d be back. Because everything he loved was here, and he wouldn’t just abandon that. Right?

   But then your eyes landed on Pero, and he was falling apart where he stood.    You scrambled to your feet and rounded the body to pull him into your arms. You had no idea what else to do, so you just held him, as your own tears started to fall.    And after a minute, his arms came around your waist and held you, but feebly, as though King had run off with all his strength too.

   “He’ll be back, right?” you asked, needing reassurance because Pero’s reaction was suddenly making you seriously afraid that you were wrong.

   But he didn’t answer you. He just let his head drop down on your shoulder, and you couldn’t tell if it was because he didn’t know the answer, or just didn’t wanna say it out loud.

   “Please, tell me he’ll be back…” you pleaded now, holding your partner tighter in a useless attempt to shield yourself from even the possibility that he was reacting like this because King really might not return.

   There was a terrible pause, in which your mind managed to conjure up all manner of horrifying scenarios, and then Rose spoke from behind you.

   “I don’t think that he’ll abandon the rest of his herd, but… He takes his responsibility as a leader very seriously. He doesn’t much care if he gets hurt, but if someone in his herd does, he considers it his fault for failing to protect them.    Even though he can’t possibly safeguard them from everything,” he explained, helping you make a little better sense of the horse’s character.

   “That’s why he came to help me in the woods,” you concluded, impressed by the mere idea of such devotion from what was widely considered to be a fairly unintelligent animal. “And broke into the stables to stop Liam. Because I’m his herd too.”

   “Exactly. I believe that that loyalty will eventually bring him back, the only question is; when?” Rose pondered, giving you a sliver of hope.

   Pero pulled away from you then, and ran a hand heavily over his face, wiping off some of the tears, before he gestured to Tuck.

   “We must bury him. We’ll need the digger.”

   You were a bit surprised that none of them seemed inclined to wanna investigate what had happened to the horse. But then again, they’d probably seen this sort of thing before, whereas you hadn���t.    And even if you did want to understand what had happened, you also cringed at the thought of someone cutting the beautiful animal open.

   Coulson volunteered to get the machine, and together you all managed to create a beautiful final resting place, in the very spot that the horse himself had chosen.    Rose promised to get him a real headstone made, so that the spot would never be disturbed. In the meantime, you made a wreath from a few branches of a pine tree, and placed it on the mound of soil, just to mark the spot more definitively.

   Once it was all done, Pero just stood there and stared at the grave.    You wanted to ask him what he was thinking, but you also didn’t wanna disturb him in what seemed like such a private moment.    So, you just stayed next to him, close enough that your shoulder brushed against his, but leaving it up to him if he wanted to take your hand or usher you to hold or comfort him in some other way.

   But he didn’t.    After another minute, he turned without a word and started limping his way back towards the buildings, apparently not in the mood to ride in the car, even though he really should. It was a long walk back, and neither his leg nor his lung was in good enough shape for it yet.    You were about to call out to him, when Rose put a hand on your shoulder.

   “Let him. He’s not good with loss either.”

   “But his injuries…” you pointed out, while your boss merely shook his head.

   “He wants the pain. That’s the point, that’s why he didn’t ask you to join him. He wants to suffer alone, as he feels that he deserves.”

   “And you’re fine with letting him continue to believe that?” you challenged, but Rose didn’t seem bothered.

   “Of course not. But every time something bad happens, he considers it his penance for the lives he’s taken and the pain he’s caused. And because the blood on his hands is very much real, there’s nothing that anyone can say or do to take that belief away from him,” the younger man sighed, looking saddened by his own words. “He’s gotten better since meeting you, which is encouraging, but he’s still a long way from knowing how to not carry that guilt.    Aside from everything he’s done before, do you really think that he will ever truly forgive himself for the things he’s done to you?”

   That question threw you a bit, because you’d sort of decided that he didn’t need to feel any guilt about those things anymore, and since Pero had seemed to agree, you’d drawn the conclusion that he had forgiven himself.    Perhaps not completely, but at least enough to let it go.

   “He marvels at your capacity for forgiveness specifically because he can’t fathom how anyone could be capable of it, and least of all himself,” Rose continued, and you hated how true it all sounded.

   “I don’t care,” you bit back. “I don’t care how disbelieving he is, or how deeply convinced he is that he deserves pain, I’m not gonna let him hurt himself, and I can’t believe that you would.”

   “And how exactly are you gonna stop him, Peg? Because I’ve tried everything that you can imagine for twenty years straight, relentlessly refusing to let him self-destruct, and I still haven’t gotten anywhere past only just managing to keep him breathing.”

   He still looked only sad, and there was no animosity in his tone. This was something that genuinely hurt this kind man to have to accept, because he loved Pero as dearly as you.    But then, something seemed to occur to him, and his entire frame suddenly looked a little bit lighter.

   “If Tovar ever did listen to me, he did it without actually hearing me,” the younger man pondered. “But perhaps that was simply because I’m not you.    Perhaps… he will hear you.”

   You weren’t sure why it felt so significant that he said that, or why you’d needed to hear it before you went after your partner, but hearing those words somehow felt like you’d been given a whistle at the start line.    Whatever he was feeling, you needed Pero to know that he wasn’t alone, and that you weren’t gonna let him push you away.

   You nodded at your boss and set off after your Spaniard, catching up to him quickly. But you didn’t take his hand or say anything to him at first. You just fell into his rhythm, while listening closely for when his lung would undoubtedly begin to protest.    But you could instantly tell that your presence was irritating him, as the energy coming off him got more and more tense by the second.

   And just when you’d started to think that perhaps Rose was right, and the best thing to do was just to let him work through this alone, he suddenly stopped and closed his eyes tightly, letting his head fall forwards.    You watched his jaw clench and then unclench, listening to the heavy breaths he took through his nose, waiting for him to either explode or crash. But he did neither.    He just started talking, without opening his eyes, or moving at all.

   “Rose and I raised all of them.    We’d been struggling with bad luck for years. Every adult horse he bought had to be put down in a year or two, from injuries or illnesses. And then there was King. Tiny, fragile and all alone,” he told you, opening his eyes and looking out over the corral and the pasture.

   He seemed so lost. More than just emotionally, it was almost as though he felt physically out of place, like he couldn’t recognize the estate without his boys around him.

   “I was all he had, so he held onto me like a baby monkey. Everywhere I went, he was there, driving me insane because I didn’t know how to raise him, and I was so afraid that I would ruin him…” he continued, and you could see the memory of that fear so clearly in his features. ”But somehow, I didn’t.    Despite being raised by me, he turned into a beautiful soul, and I’ve always wondered how that could be. How I could deserve such a friend.”

   You weren’t sure what he might want from you, anymore than you could work out what might enrage him. Nor did you have any idea what to do with what he was telling you.    So, you just waited by his side while he kept breathing deeply for a minute.

   “He is my boy, and I owe him. So much.    If something happens to him…” he trailed off, unable to find the words, and it cut through you like knives to hear how badly that thought tortured him.

   You closed the small distance between you, taking his head in your hands and kissing him gently. His response was mild, but loving, and when you pulled back, his eyes opened to stare at you with something like wonder underneath the fear and sadness.    You kept holding his head, making him look at you, so that he’d see the conviction in your eyes as you spoke next.

   “He’s the best horse there is. Strong and fierce and so incredibly clever. Nothing’s gonna happen to him, he’s just grieving.    But he loves his family, which means that he will be back once he’s ready. And when he gets back, he’s gonna be pissed if he finds that the rest of the herd hasn’t been properly cared for in his absence.    So, let’s get back to them and make sure they’re okay.”

   He nodded a little, seeming to decide that he’d rather live on your hope, than drown in his own despair, and you moved to put his right arm over your shoulders to give him some more support while you slowly made your way back towards the stables.    You were pushing your own sorrow about Tuck to the side, trying to keep your mind on Pero and everything that needed to be done. But you had extremely fond memories of that horse, and you knew that it was gonna hit you in the gut later.    For now, though, taking care of the living took priority. The tears would have to wait.

   Once you got there, you sat him down to rest in the grooming area while you went to inspect the fence to see how Tuck and King had escaped, and make sure that the other two were still there.    You quickly found that one of the side-gates had been pried open, but fallen shut again, making it look as though it was still locked, which was probably why only the two of them had left.

   As you set about trying to temporarily fix the lock, you spied one brown and one chestnut bulge sticking out among some weeds, further down in the pasture behind you.    They were too far away for you to clearly make them out, and you wanted to inspect them thoroughly, so when you were finishing up with the gate, you started whistling for them.

   “Come on, boys! Grooming time,” you called, then threw a look over your shoulder, but they didn’t seem to have heard you, so you whistled louder. “Pace! Sparky! C’mon now…”

   As you shouted for them, you started moving closer and realized that they weren’t reacting to you at all.    They would ignore your whistles sometimes if they were feeling lazy, but none of the horses ever ignored hearing their names called. At the very least, they’d roll their heads up from the ground, to see what was going on.    But there was nothing. Not so much as a ruffle in those weeds.

   You took off running towards them, hoping that the ice that spread through your gut would turn out to be a false alarm. That they were just that tired.    As if you’d ever been that lucky.    You got to Sparky first, and he was barely even breathing.    While you dug your phone out of your pocket, you leapt over to Pace. He was panting in short shallow breaths, staring at you with eyes so wide that the whites were visible, and they were bloodshot.

   Fuck… this was bad.

   Rose had the resources to get help there the fastest, so he was your first choice, and you didn’t wait for him to even speak as you heard the call connect.

   “I need your help, the other horses are sick,” you rattled off, and there was a brief pause.

   “What are their symptoms?” he asked, putting aside any irrelevant questions for the time being, instantly focused on just keeping them alive.

   “Sweating, panting, bloodshot eyes…” you tried to think of only what was relevant information, and then took a moment to locate the pulse-point underneath the horse’s jaw. “Shit, Pace’s pulse is sky-high, but Sparky’s worse, he’s barely even breathing.”

   “They must’ve been poisoned somehow,” Rose concluded. “Are you far from the stables?”

   “About 300 yards.”

   “Then get wet towels. Try to cool them down. And if you can get them to drink, even small amounts could make a world of difference.    I’m organizing help, we’ll be there right away,” he instructed, and you didn’t waste time answering him, you just got to your feet and ran.

   When you practically hurled yourself into the stables again, Pero was still sitting where you’d left him, with his head leaned back against the wall, staring at the ceiling, lost in thought.    But he jumped a little at your sudden appearance, and then his face turned hard with worry when he took in your body-language.

   “Belleza?”

   “The horses… they’re sick… something’s wrong,” you said in between gasps, while gathering every blanket and towel you could find.

   “Wha-… All of them?” he asked, as if the mere prospect was so unbelievable that he simply couldn’t accept it unless you forced him.

   You’d been trying not to think about King, all alone somewhere in the woods.    There was no way of knowing if whatever this was had affected him too, and the thought that he could be in the same condition right now, had you fighting the urge to just run out there to blindly search for him.

   “Looks like it…” you breathed before carrying the fabrics out to the huge water-trough and dunking them into it.

   While they soaked up the cold water, you ran back inside and grabbed a wheelbarrow to carry them in, since moving them when they were laden with that much liquid would be extremely heavy and difficult.    But as you brought the cart outside, Pero suddenly flew past you, towards the horses. Running on his damaged leg and limping so badly that he was practically jumping every other step.

   Fuck.

   If he tore his thigh to shreds it would never fully heal again, but you knew that there was absolutely no point in telling him that right then.    His kids were dying. His leg was nothing in comparison.    You threw the towels in the barrow and set off after him as quickly as you could safely move with the thing, and when you got there, Pero was kneeling next to Sparky, having just finished examining him.

   “Leave him. He won’t make it. Focus on Pace,” he said sternly, and your stomach twisted.

   “No, Pero, we can’t just-…” you tried, but he cut you off.

   “Look at him. He’s too far gone, there’s nothing we can do. But Pace still has a chance.”

   With that, he leaned down and quickly kissed Sparky right below his eye, whispered something in Spanish, and then moved over to Pace.    You knew that he was right because the brown didn’t even react to Pero’s touch, and his breathing had gotten even worse in the few minutes since you’d left him.    But it felt awful to just ignore him when he was still alive.

   You still did, though. Because as bad as it was for you, it must’ve been ten times worse for your partner. He’d raised and loved them even before his heart was ready for it.    They were the ones that had kept his heart alive through the years, reminding him that he still had one and that it was still capable of caring for others. They meant more to him than you could even understand.    So, if he could do it, then so could you.

   Turning all your attention on Pace, you noticed that he was trembling now, either with fever or pain or both.    You handed Pero a smaller towel, and he tucked about half of it inside of Pace’s cheek, and then pressed the outside of his jaw to squeeze the water out of it, directly into the horse’s mouth. The reflex to swallow took care of the rest.

   In the meantime, you put the blankets and larger towels all over his side to cool him down, and then ran back up to the stables to get a bucket of water that Pero could use to ‘refill’ the towel that he was using to feed Pace the water.    When you came back, you handed him the bucket, and while he dunked the towel in it you turned to check on Sparky.

   One look was all it took.    He was gone. And suddenly your heart was shooting arrows of acid up through your throat, making it tighten uncomfortably, and refuse so ease up no matter how hard you swallowed.    Because what if you lost all of them?    What if King was already… What if that was why he’d run away.

   You couldn’t have kids of your own, and you’d accepted that. You’d never gotten a dog, even though you’d wanted to, because you’d been afraid that it would become as important to you as a child.    That you’d get unhealthily attached to something that would, in all likelihood, die before you, which was a needless pain that you’d managed to protect yourself from.

   But these boys had broken your self-imposed rules and crawled under your skin anyway. Especially King.    Losing him would hurt like all hell, and you’d only known him for two damned months.    Pero had raised him.

   Fuck.

   FUCK!

-=¤=-=¤=-=¤=-=¤=-=¤=-=¤=-

   Were days really only 24 hours long?    There had been many times in his life when Pero had questioned this. When the days seemed to stretch themselves, as if willingly trying to torture him by extending the amount of time he’d have to wait, or suffer, or worry.

   It took two whole days before they began to see an improvement in Pace. Two whole days that he could do nothing but sit by his side and wait and hope, as his leg prevented him from helping with the search for King.    The sprint down the pasture had been a mistake, but only because of how much worse his pain was right now.

   Something that was entirely impossible to ignore when he had nothing to distract himself with. Amazingly, though, the muscle had held together, not that that did much to alleviate his worries right now.    He knew that everything possible was being done to find King, and that his eyes were no better than anyone else’s, but he still hated being side-lined. Being useless.

   Rose had deactivated all the autocannons on the estate while he investigated the intrusion into his system, before upgrading it to make it safe again.    However, the sensors were still operational, and he’d turned them on as soon as he realized that all the horses were in danger, but they still hadn’t picked up any movement or even trace of the black.

   Pero tried to tell himself that that didn’t necessarily mean anything, since the sensors didn’t actually see every inch of the estate.    They were positioned to have complete overview of the areas closer to the main buildings, and all along the wall, but the woods weren’t covered to the same extent. There were natural obstacles, like cliffs, in the way of some of them, and there were gaps in places where their ranges didn’t overlap.

   Still… if an animal that size was moving around out there, he should’ve passed within range of at least one of those sensors by now.

   Coulson, Laura, Brix, Shaggy and Hero were all out there during the days, searching methodically, while Rose stayed back to help Pero and the vet with Pace, and monitor the sensors for movements.    And since everyone still needed to eat, Doris was kept on kitchen-duty rather than join the search-party.

   The veterinary doctor that Rose had hired, had been able to confirm that the boys had indeed been poisoned, and during her autopsy of Sparky, she’d discovered a custom-made capsule in the bottom of his stomach.    It had been designed to withstand the horse’s stomach-acid, but also not irritate it, as the thing laid in there for weeks, before some sort of time-lock made them burst and deliver their deadly contents.

   Pero knew that it had been there for weeks, because the only people that had been to the estate lately, that could possibly have wanted to do something like this, had been Liam and his team.    And something as cruel and pointless as this, was exactly the kind of thing he’d do.    So, all that the Spaniard could hope for now, was that King hadn’t eaten the device.

   Not for the first time, he envied you. Your strength and resolve.    You’d been out there almost constantly since Pace came under veterinary care, running randomly through the woods, hoping to find King on pure luck.    You didn’t stop to eat or rest at all, until nightfall, when you were forced back to the estate by the lack of visibility.

   And even then, you only ate quickly, showered, rehydrated as best you could while you kept Pero company in the stables, watching over Pace.    Then you’d get a few hours of sleep curled up on the hay or a blanket, only to get up with the rising sun and resume your search.    Which was why, when you came back on the second day, he was amazed at how you were even still standing. How did your legs still carry you, when you were this exhausted?

   He’d been sitting outside for a while, getting some air after the vet had told him that Pace was finally no longer critically ill, and was expected to survive if there were no complications.    When you spotted him sitting there, you came to join him, and he could tell how overworked your entire body was, from the effort it took you just to convince your knees to bend properly.

   “You must rest, Angel. If you’re too tired you might pass out, or trip and hurt yourself, and then the search will be for both of you,” he carefully reminded you, while you finally managed to sit down.

   “I know,” you coughed, and it sounded deep and unhealthy. “I don’t mean to push myself into the ground, but I can’t stop until I know… one way or another.”

   “I feel the same, but it’s been two and a half days with not even a hoof-print found. Either he doesn’t want to be found and is hiding, or…” he stopped, because he couldn’t say it.

   Not yet. There was still a chance.

   You leaned forwards, resting your elbows on your knees and rubbing your face, and he gently stroked your back, trying to soothe your aching muscles.    He could easily feel the tension in them, rock hard under his fingers, brought to the limit of what the human body should do, and then pushed further.    You had to rest. And so did he.

   “Come with me. We need to sleep in a bed and get some actual rest.”

   “We can’t just leave Pace…” you protested, still with your head in your hands.

   “Sam is here, and so is the vet. Pace will not be alone,” he said as he got up.

   You sighed so heavily that it sounded as though you were being crushed by boulders, but he pulled you to your feet, and together you limped up to the house.    When you got there, he quickly stripped you of your clothes and led you into the shower. Then he removed his own clothes before joining you, but you didn’t fondle one another, or even help each other wash.

   He just stood behind you, wrapped his arms around you and held you up while the hot water rained down on you both, until your muscles finally started to loosen up and relax. And then he increased the heat and kept you there another ten minutes.    By the time he pulled you out of there, your body was so soft that it had gone limp, and he had to carry you to the bed. You were so warm that the water was actually steaming off you.

   He put you belly down on the bed and started to massage your legs as best he could. He knew how to massage horses, but he’d never done it on a human before. Still, the principle was the same.    He worked through your legs, your back, shoulders and neck, before flipping you over and moving back down to your legs to start the process over again on your front.

   Aside from the occasional little whine when he found a particularly sore spot, you seemed mostly unaware of what he was doing. And to be fair, he was so tired that he honestly wasn’t sure if his efforts made any difference.    Once your skin had cooled, he crawled down next you, pulled you into his side and put the covers over you both. He then fell asleep so quickly that he didn’t even manage to kiss you goodnight.

   When he woke up, you were right there next to him, still asleep even though the sun was already up, and he drew a sigh of relief.    You needed this rest, and he intended to make sure that you stayed in bed for as long as possible today, because he knew that he wouldn’t be able to stop you from going back out to look for King, as soon as you regained your senses.

   So, he stayed still, didn’t touch you even though he wanted to, just in case it made you stir.    You’d turned on your belly, but your head was still facing his way on the pillow and your hand was resting right on top of his heart.    He watched your relaxed, carefree expression as you were temporarily liberated from all your worries, and it brought his thoughts to that first time that he’d woken up with you, after you’d fallen asleep almost on top of him on the couch.

   He smiled to himself as he recalled the feeling of your lips on his cheek, and then the look in your eyes. You’d been so surprised by your own actions, as you hadn’t yet realized that you’d already fallen as hard for him as he had for you, at that point.    And that was the one time that he could recall you completely avoiding talking about something with him.

   He could’ve pressed the matter, and in retrospect, he probably should have. As it might’ve been enough to keep him from creating the shitstorm that he’d so mercilessly thrown at you, later that evening.    But then, that storm was what had led to you being reunited with Natalie, so perhaps everything had happened as it was supposed to.

   Perhaps, these storms that you’d both survived had all been necessary for some reason, and he found himself actually hoping that the storm you were currently weathering had some similar purpose.    That losing the boys could somehow bring you to some other positive event or understanding.    He couldn’t, for the life of him, understand what that might be, but he still hoped.

   But he was brought out of his ponders when your hand twitched on his chest, just a moment before your head snapped up from the pillow.

   “King…” you blurted out, even though your eyes weren’t even open yet, and the name came out slurred and sounding more like a question than a name, making him think that you must’ve been dreaming. “…Fuck…”

   Your head fell back down, and your body relaxed again.    But just as he was about to reach over and move your hair from your face, you sat up, swinging your legs over the side of the bed, groaning loudly at the apparent severe protests from your limbs.    You paused as you sat there, and he pushed himself up on his elbow so that he could reach you, to run his palm down the length of your back.

   Your stillness over the night had made your muscles stiff again, and he was met with nothing but tension.    He knew that you were gonna go out again, and he didn’t really want to stop you. But he also wanted you to stay with him.    If King was still alive, he’d come home eventually. And if he wasn’t, it could take weeks to find his body.

   “Peg. Stay with me today. Please,” he pleaded, and watched you take a deep breath before you let your head fall against your chest for a moment.

   “I need to know, Pero… He’s… important. He matters,” you said, and it sounded like there was something more behind words, something bigger that you couldn’t quite explain. “I have to find him. I have to know.”

   You got up, and he could see the strain that every movement put on your body, but he didn’t try and stop you.    He just watched you get dressed, and when you were done, he got up and reached for you, pulling you in for a kiss and a hug, knowing that he’d likely not see you until nightfall again.

   “Doris left some finished sandwiches in the fridge yesterday. Please eat something, or at least take something with you,” he asked, unsure if you were even in a state to recognize your own needs right then.

   You nodded against his shoulder, kissed his neck just once, and then you pulled away and left. But he heard you open the refrigerator door before the front door opened and closed.    Well, it was something.    He got dressed and actually sat down in the kitchen for a cup of coffee and his own sandwich. He hadn’t exactly eaten well himself these past few days, but he’d at least been sitting still.

   As he limped down to the stables a short while later, he was surprised to feel that his thigh was significantly less painful that morning. Perhaps the hot shower had helped him too.    But then his attention was drawn elsewhere, towards the trees further off in the woods that you were currently searching, because the wind had picked up overnight. And it was hard enough that the trees were swaying.

   That worried him, primarily because he wasn’t sure if you knew how dangerous strong winds and tall trees with old roots were. Nor was he confident that you’d even perceive the shift in conditions, or care enough about your safety to stop, even if you did.    But he forgot all about that when he got to the stables, and nearly fell over as he stepped inside. Although it had nothing to do with his leg.

   Pace was standing up in the grooming area, which had been temporarily repurposed into a veterinary clinic.    He was weak and shaky and there was no shine to his coat, but he was up and standing on his own.    And where horses were concerned, there was no better sign of significant improvement.

   “Mi hermano…” he breathed, barely able to speak with the sudden rush of relief and joy. “Welcome back to the living.”

   The horse lifted his head just a fraction at the sound of his voice, and it damn near broke his heart to see it.    He took the last few steps to reach him, and took his head between his hands, holding him carefully against his chest.

   “You’ll be okay, my boy. We’ll take care of you.”

   All he could feel in that moment was how grateful he was that he would get to keep one of them at least.    The loss was still devastating but losing all of them would’ve been so much worse.    Now, if they could just have closure with King, they could begin to move forward.

-=¤=-=¤=-=¤=-=¤=-=¤=-=¤=-

   You didn’t run as fast as your legs could carry you. You kept a slow, even pace that allowed you to cover more ground than walking but wasn’t so fast that you risked missing something.    But you were tired today. More so than you’d initially realized.    It wasn’t exactly unexpected, you’d been running almost non-stop for three days now, of course you’d be tired. You just hadn’t anticipated the effect it would have on your mental capacity.

   You felt as though no matter which direction you headed in you kept winding up at the wall today.    Obviously, that had to mean that you were either getting confused as to which direction the sun was heading, or you were losing your ability to gauge your surroundings and ascertain whether you were turning or running straight.    Maybe both…

 �� But when you actually ran straight into the wall, very nearly breaking your own nose, you decided that you needed to take a break.    You picked up the sandwich from your pocket and sat down on a rock to eat it, wondering to yourself if it had been so windy earlier. You hadn’t thought about it when you’d set off that morning, nor had it occurred to you while you ran.

   Which only further confirmed your poor mental state, because the wind was seriously tearing at the trees.    You didn’t even know how long you’d been out there, so you glanced at your watch.    13:34.    You’d noticed the clock in the kitchen that morning had read 08:16, so you’d already been out there for five hours.

   You cursed the weather-gods, if there were any, for making it harder to hear anything moving around you, and then set off again, heading straight away from the wall this time.    The food did help with your focus, and you managed to steer clear of the wall for the next few hours. But the wind kept picking up, until it was bad enough that you were having trouble staying upright whenever a gust hit you from the side, and you finally had to admit that staying out there in such conditions was pointless.

   Even so, you still soldiered on for hours, relentlessly driven by your love for King, until you eventually had to give up and started heading back, forced down to a walk by the treacherous winds.    You couldn’t even hear your own breaths, and your eyesight was being impaired by flying seeds and dust and twigs.    Which was why you shouldn’t have been surprised that you never even heard it coming, but it still really baffled you.

   You’d always thought that a fifty-foot tree falling would make a hell of a ruckus, but it didn’t. At least not loud enough to be heard over the wind.    Suddenly, you were just smashed face-first into the ground by a force so massive that there was no competition. If the branches hadn’t broken the last bit of its fall, the trunk would’ve crushed you, or even split you in half.

   As it were, the branches only just saved your life when the trunk first bounced slightly against them, before it dropped further, but with much less force, and came to a stop just high enough to pin you to the ground without breaking you apart.    However, it did leave you completely stuck as the damn thing settled just above your pelvis, with the larger ribcage preventing you from pushing yourself backwards, and the bulge of your ass keeping you from pulling forwards.

   And as you examined your options to the sides, you found yourself additionally pinned between several thicker branches that had broken off, but not all the way down to the trunk, which was why you hadn’t been crushed.    On both sides of you, they rested heavily against the forest floor, taking up the thousands of kilos of tree between them, while also effectively creating a cage around you.

   In short, you were simply completely stuck.    And, of course, your phone was in your back-pocket, which you conveniently couldn’t reach.

   Fuck!

   Three days of fear and anger, frustration and fatigue, desperation and stress, just to get you pinned under a god damned pinewood tree with no way to let anyone know what had happened.    Miraculously alive, against all odds, but also so perfectly trapped that it was bordering on the ridiculous. Like, a bad horror-movie type of ridiculous.

   It was just too fucking stupid.

   You screamed at the top your lungs, knowing full well that it wouldn’t make a lick of difference in that wind, but keeping it up for twenty minutes anyway, just because you had nothing better to do and it made you feel less claustrophobic.    Once you’d gotten that out of your system, your brain started looking for solutions again, and you began to probe the ground underneath you, as best you could, to see if it was soft enough to dig through.

   It wasn’t. It was soft moss covering a large flat rock, and by large you meant like, bigger than you. As though this section of forest used to be a mountain, but was now overgrown.    Next, the branches. Could you somehow break or saw one off?    They were too thick to break, but if you had a smaller rock, you should be able to gradually work one off.

   But, of course, there wasn’t so much as a pebble.    This forest really was trying to kill you now. All because you wanted to find one of nature’s greatest creations.    She could’ve at least let the tree fall half a second later, which would’ve meant you’d have been impaled by one of those branches and died almost instantly, but nooooo… She wanted to make you suffer, make you die slowly with only your own thoughts to keep you company.

   Huh, well get in line, bitch.

   Why did everyone wanna torture you?    It was seriously beginning to feel like you’d unknowingly been entered into some form of life-lottery that you consistently kept losing.    You were too tired for this. Your mind wasn’t working right, your body ached for rest, despite Pero’s expert treatment the night before.

   …Pero.

   He’d asked you not to go, not to put yourself at risk for exactly something like this.    Losing you, along with the boys… he’d never survive that, and you knew it. But your stubborn need to know what had happened to an animal that wasn’t even yours had now driven you to a point where that had become a very probable outcome.    What the fuck was wrong with you?

   You let your head fall into your hands, and suddenly all the pain you’d carried these last few days, out of nowhere just drowned you.    Hot tears spilled from your eyes in tiny rivers, pooling in your hands, before continuing down into that soft green moss.    At least it was a beautiful place to die, and no one was trying to carve you to pieces or peel your skin off. Which was a hell of a thing to be grateful for.

   It had begun to get dusky when you ran out of tears, and you tried to mentally prepare yourself for a night completely exposed to the elements. And although the summer warmth should be enough to keep you from getting cold, there were other dangers.    You were trying not to think about how helpless you’d be if rodents or ants started finding you, and instead tried to focus on how you were gonna survive, because that was the only option available. You were not gonna die.

   You’d just started to make another attempt to reach your phone when a strange sound carried across in a temporary lull of the howling wind. Something oddly familiar, but stuck in the back of your mind.    You heard it again a little while later, a loud shrieking sound, slightly distorted by the elements, and for some reason it drew your mind to the night that Jack had taken you.

   You’d been so out of it from head-trauma and blood-loss and shock, that a lot of those details just hadn’t registered in your conscious mind, but this was in there. It wasn’t a hallucination, you’d heard this before, you were sure of it.    And whatever it was, you somehow knew that it was good, so you screamed again, as loud as you could, and the shriek responded.

   You repeated that process over and over, and for each time that the sound came to you, it was closer, and the closer it got, the more familiar it became.    But it wasn’t until he came into view, underneath the fading final rays of sunshine in the treetops, that the memory became clear.

   He’d only been a shadowy figure to you at the time, camouflaged by the thick darkness of that moonless night.    You hadn’t even been aware that he’d made his presence known as he’d approached his enemies, using the full scope of his vocal resources to throw them off guard, turning himself into a target but also giving Pero a chance to even the odds.

   King.

   The King. Your champion and rescuer, the one and only of his kind, alive and well and seemingly unharmed, as he galloped towards you, throwing his mane and whipping his tail against the wind.    Holy fucking gods in the stars above, did you love this horse. The tears came right back at the sight of his perfect form coming at you, because he was okay.

   “I am so happy to see you, chico,” you laughed slightly through the tears, from the sheer relief. “But you need to go, you need to get Pero. Bring him back here…”

   He stopped right in front of you, and lowered his head to smell you, just to make sure it was really you, and then he shifted to the side, and started kicking on the branches in his way, making room for himself.    Apparently, he had a plan, so you opted to just keep a close eye on those hooves as they flew closer and closer to your side, while letting him work.

   He’d soon cleared enough space for himself to be able to start working on the branches closest to you, but he had to kick really hard to break them, and he was less than ten centimeters from your ribs as he did.    But you trusted him, and merely remained still while he worked. He’d never failed you before.

   He did hit you a little bit, though. A glancing touch that would probably leave a nasty mark because of the iron shoe, but nothing was broken, so you’d live.    And more importantly, that was the kick that set you free.    It removed enough of the obstacle that you could wiggle your way to the side, where the trunk sat slightly higher. Not by much, but enough for you to squeeze your ass through.

   Once you were back on your feet, you threw yourself around King’s neck, sobbing uncontrollably against his mane, and he just let you.    He just stood there and calmly waited for you to finish, and once you pulled back, he cheekily licked your face, making you laugh through the last few tears.

   “I love you so much, you rascal!” you smiled at him, but then held up a cautionary finger in front of his nose. “Don’t you ever run off like that again, you hear me? I’ve been losing my mind looking for you…”

   He hummed a low little sound at you, so gentle and full of warmth that it very well could’ve been an apology, and then he bowed down to let you mount him, before setting off towards the house.

>>>>>>>>>> <<<<<<<<<<

Link to Chapter 23

Thank you for reading, and if you enjoyed this, please consider reblogging. I would dearly appreciate it <3

@tacticalsparkles @tanzthompson @sarahjkl82-blog  @marydjarin @idreamofboobear  @annathewitch @agingerindenial  @tiffanyleen @winter-fox-queen @elegantduckturtle  @lovefreylove @shadowolf993  @callsigncatfish @hounding-around @cannedsoupsucks @startrekkingaroundasgard  @thisshipwillsail316 @ellie-darling @likes-good-reblogs-even-better @nakhudanyx @dihra-vesa @tobealostwanderer @ophelialoveshandsomemen @deadhumourist @spideysimpossiblegirl @toomanystoriessolittletime  @tintinn16 @prostitute-robot-from-the-future @nolanell

#driving mr. tovar #driving mr. tovar series #pero tovar fanfiction #pero tovar x female reader #pero tovar x fem!reader #pero tovar x reader #modern!pero #modern!au #the great wall modern au #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #sirowsky stories

[ruby-whistler]

You've probably talked about this kinda thing before (I'm willing to hunt down the post if so), but I'm pretty new to your blog and I'm curious; what makes you like c!Dream so much? Other than, like, his potential - or the skill that went into writing him - I mean specifically as a character, what causes you to sympathize with him as opposed to others like Wilbur or Quackity?

If it's personal you obviously don't have to answer! I've just read tons of posts like that from c!Tommy apologists and I realized I'd never read one from the other side of things (so to speak) and I think you present your ideas and stuff rly well :p

Alright, I’ve made a couple of replies like this, but this one is going in the masterpost to later link it to people - thank you for your interest, and I hope you don’t mind this one being a bit detailed.

Initially, on more of an emotional level, the answer to that question would be Dr3. It was how I got into Dream apologism, it justified my compassion for the character, and made me feel more comfortable where the rest of the fandom was overwhelmingly negative.

The c!Dream that people portray seems unsympathetic, and pretty fitting on the surface - a relentless manipulative villain with an insatiate thirst for power who threw away his friends in order to gain control over others for the sake of being on top.

Until you actually look into canon, and do some analysis, and realize that's,,, rather far from the truth.

See, the thing about c!Dream is, that he's a person much like anyone else in the story. He's not a "villain" or some morally black character only because of his actions. It's all about context, which doesn't excuse actions, but it might explain them and make an impact on the way we view the character himself.

In this fandom, people usually look at him, and then throw both accurate characterization and any of that context out the window.

Because power, and hurting people, and chaos isn't his goal or his motive. It's a means to an end. Everything is a means to the end to this character, including himself, which I find fascinating.

Is it wrong to do? Yes. Will it get him closer to his goals? Yes? Then he's going to do it, no matter who gets hurt in the process. No matter if he gets hurt in the process.

And this ruthlessness is not inspired by cruelty, this efficiency isn't out of enjoyment. It's out of genuine attachment and perhaps even desperation, but that's difficult to get into.

He's had such a downward spiral into doing continuously worse things - and for what? For control? For power? No, he never cared about that in the first place, why would he start now?

Do you know what he did care about?

His friends. The server. The people he feels responsible for.

c!Dream's goals have never been selfish at all, no matter how much people try to paint it that way. His ends were always for others - considering how likely the theory that he got himself locked up on purpose is, that enforces the sentiment even more.

If he didn't care about the server, why would he fight against L'Manberg and then list his reasons for it always as reasons "we" had? He pretty much never used "I" when talking about it, I know because I counted it.

If he didn't care about the people, why would he stand against Schlatt - despite understandably still despising L'Manberg - and actively support them in getting their country back when he could've just left them alone? Schlatt wasn't hurting him. Wilbur taking a tiny piece of land wasn't threatening him.

Manberg was threatening the server's peace, which is why he fought against it. L'Manberg threatened (and ruined) the server's relative peace and unity, which is why he fought against it.

It was never him fighting to control the server, it was him fighting for the server and the people in it, even if he ended up hurting them in the process, and that's pretty clear from analysing his motives before the second season.

And yeah, his thinking is flawed, I noticed - but cc!Dream has confirmed his goal in the end is for everyone to get along and, well, stop hurting each other, as well as him having an "ends justify the means" mentality.

And I guess that silent realization of - hell, he cares - was what drew me to have such a strong attachment towards the character.

So thinking about him forcing himself to do all this terrible stuff - about him being stuck powerless inside a cell, hurt over and over again - about just how desperate he must've been, alternatively, how ready to sacrifice himself he must've been back at the Finale.

If you recontextualize the story from c!Dream's perspective, it all falls into this picture of someone who wanted to protect people more than anything, and who cared more than anyone, and ended up losing everything, not entirely by his own fault, but because of the cycle of violence he was actively trying to stop.

The road to hell is paved with good intentions.

Dream is incredibly selfless both in his overarching goals, and in his smaller more immediate ones. He will, more often than not, put himself in a disadvantageous situation if it means his friends or allies aren’t caught in the crossfire or harmed.

His relationship with his friends - Punz, George and Sapnap specifically - is incredibly tragic. He wanted to protect Punz, he showed genuine concern about him, he was willing to have one less person on his side just so that people wouldn't target him.

He wanted to protect George, but he hurt him in the process, because he was too caught up in being in the right, and Sapnap was distraught thanks to Tommy telling him that Dream doesn't care about him, and Quackity who despised Dream was there to fan the flames, so they fell apart rather easily.

He wanted to protect the cat, and he failed.

He wanted to protect Techno, stand up to Quackity, and he failed.

If you think about it, he failed to protect everyone miserably.

Alright before I break down sobbing incoherently - as you can probably see, my sympathy towards c!Dream doesn't come from him being a good person to any degree, more from just incredible amounts of sadness.

You see, c!Dream is a very reserved character, and he puts up the "cruel scary villain" front on purpose, and he doesn't talk about his emotions on purpose. However what we see of him is pretty much enough to classify him as a rather tragic character.

Most of his actions, with enough context, shift the way I think about the character in a more positive direction only because if I like the way a character is written, it's going to bleed into my feelings for the character himself. Ruthless villains are my jam. A character being fun to analyse and too complex to complicate further is pretty much the only thing I need to become attached.

Did I mention the prison arc yet? I cannot see a character suffering and not be sympathetic, I don't think that's a thing with me. Healing arc potential, isn't it?

A lot of people also relate to the character on a deeply personal level! Trauma responses such as cutting people off and emotionally isolating yourself, trying to regain control of your environment or to get back the past, some people even relate to,, what's being done to him during the prison arc. There's definitely some amount of projection going on, but I'd say I only do it to a degree where when I'm depressed I'll start relentlessly posting about a healing arc.

It's just hard to see a villain with good intentions hurt and alone, even if he's done terrible things, and not feel some amount of empathy. Most people don't care to see him that way, but my blog's mostly a place for those who do.

Anyways, here are some essays to check out perhaps if you've read this far that elaborate on some of the points further-

[ x ] [ x ] [ x ] [ x ] [ x ] [ x ]

- and here's an explanation like this from a fellow Dream apologist. Might be useful to get multiple perspectives on the subject. Feel free to also send asks if you have any questions! That's what I'm here for.

#dream smp #c!dream #dreblr #my asks #angeloncewas #long post #thanks for the question! :]

[pazumane-archive]

Closing Time - Asahi x Reader

Characters: Asahi Azumane, female reader, original female character, small Taichi cameo

Relationships: Asahi Azumane x Reader

Genre: Fluff, hurt/comfort if you squint, SFW but 16+ please

Warnings: Alcohol, general drunken shenanigans, emetophobia (mentions of vomit), bad language

WC: 6.4k

Author’s Note: Hi everyone! This is a totally self-indulgent bedtime-scenario-type story because there is simply not enough Asahi/Reader content out there and I adore him. It’s also my first time writing in 2nd person, so PLEASE feel free to send me any feedback, please just be kind :) I really don’t like to use y/n, so I only used it a couple times towards the end when I wasn’t sure what else to do lol

The preview begins with the bolded text below and fic continues after the cut :)

Reblogs appreciated! <3

You weren’t planning on getting this drunk. But by the time it got to be about 11:30, you didn’t know what else to do. You had put so much effort and energy into making yourself look nice just for your date not to show up. Your roommate was out of town, so instead of going home and pouting, you figured you might as well have some fun while you were out. But you’ve never been good at exercising restraint, and the fact that you were alone wasn’t doing you any favors. But by closing time had rolled around, you could hardly see straight. You needed help, so you call upon an old friend.

“Do you have anybody you can call for a ride?” Kawanishi asks.

Kawanishi’s the bartender at this izakaya, and over the course of the night, you spent most of the time talking his ear off. He’s nice enough, and held pleasant conversation for the last few hours. He says he used to be a volleyball player, and had even played on the same team as a one of the guys on the Japan National Team. You forget to ask him which school he attended, but he probably was tired of talking to your drunk ass anyway, so you don’t bother asking. “Yeah,” you say, digging in your purse for your phone. “Are you sure? I can call a cab for you if you need it,” he offers. “Nah,” you say, hiccupping between words. “I’ll call somebody. Thank you though.” “No problem,” he says. “Just try to make it quick.” You scroll through your phone, trying to figure out who to call. Your roommate’s out of town visiting her parents, so she’s a no-go. You could call Kokomi. Honestly, she would deserve the 2AM phone call for setting you up on this failed blind date in the first place. Ever since you moved to Tokyo last month, she was constantly trying to set you up with somebody, whether it was a friend, a coworker, or some rando that she had met on the train. Unfortunately, all of them were jerks. And this one was the biggest jerk of all. You silently curse yourself for going along with her antics again.

“He’s great, you’ll love him!” “You said that about the last three guys you tried to set me up with, Kokomi.” “Please!! You’ll never know if you don’t even give him a chance.”

Well, you gave him a chance. And it ended up with you all alone, drunk as hell in an unfamiliar part of the city. You dial Kokomi’s number, but it goes straight to voicemail. “Bitch,” you mutter. You unlock your phone again and look through to find somebody that might be able to take you home. You scroll back to the top of your contact list, and your eyes settle on another name. He lives just a few blocks away, and knowing him, he’s probably awake working on something anyway. You click on his contact and wait for him to answer.

*

The exhaustion’s starting to get to him. It’s the weekend and he can afford to stay up an extra couple of hours to finish this design, but the combination of fatigue and frustration are taking over. He sets down his pencil and moves towards his bed, until his cell starts to buzz. He glances over at the clock on the wall. 1:49 AM.

Who could possibly be calling at this hour?

Asahi picks up his phone, surprised to see your name on the screen. His heart skips a beat in his chest, both from excitement and nervousness. Aside from his teammates, you’re one of the only people he bothered to keep in contact with after high school. The two of you had even met up a few times since you moved to the city, but he never would have expected you to call at this hour unless… unless something is wrong. “Hey you, what’s up?” He says, choking back a yawn. “Hiiiii Asahiiii!  I tried to call Kokomi but she didn’t answer her phone… could you come pick me up?” Your voice is thick and your words are almost unintelligible as you speak. It’s obvious that you’re far from sober. “Where are you?” Asahi asks, failing to mask the anxiety in his voice. “Are you okay? Are you safe?” “M’fine,” you slur. “But I…” Suddenly the call drops. Asahi calls you back in a panic, his heart racing as he waited for you to answer. You could be in danger and he’d be powerless to help you. He doesn’t even know where you are. “Hello?” A man’s voice comes through the speaker. “Who are you? Where is she?” Asahi asks frantically. “Relax, man. I’m just the bartender,” he says. “Look, your friend’s next to me, but she’s on the verge of passing out. Can you come get her before she pukes all over my bar? She’s at Zoetrope. You know where that is?” “Of course, I’m on my way now! I’ll be there in ten minutes,” Asahi says, grabbing his apartment keys and putting on a pair of shoes. He’s out the door almost immediately.

*

Kawanishi presses your phone back into your hands. Your head is spinning so fast that you struggle to keep your eyes open. “Is he coming?” you ask. “Yeah, he’s on the way,” Kawanishi says. “He’ll be here soon. Now do me a favor, don’t get this drunk the next time you come into my izakaya or I’ll have to kick you out.” “You’re kicking me out???” “Only if you start throwing up,” he says under his breath. “I’m not going to throw up!” you exclaim, suddenly becoming very aware of the churning in your stomach. You grumble, slumping over the bar. You squeeze your eyes shut, the spinning in your head only getting worse with every breath you take. You feel like you’re going to die, and honestly, between the embarrassment of being stood up and the wave of nausea coming over you, you’re ready to welcome that death with open arms. “Hey!” Kawanishi says, smacking the bar next to your head. “Your friend’s going to be here soon, don’t fall asleep or I’ll throw you out on the street myself.” “I’m sorry, Kawanishi-san.” You sit up slowly and cradle your head in your hands once more, trying to make the world stop spinning.

Please get here soon, Asahi.

*

Asahi sprints down the street as fast as he can towards the izakaya. He’s sure that he looks suspicious running down the street alone at night, but he doesn’t care. You’re in trouble, and he’s the only person that can help you. He finally makes it to the bar and hastily pulls the door open. You’re dressed beautifully, and your makeup and hair are exquisitely done. Unfortunately, the way you’re slumped over the bar makes it obvious that something’s wrong. He’s not sure what happened, but whatever it was, it must have been rough. The bartender gently helps you out of your seat, and Asahi can’t help but think that he looks very familiar. You straighten up and as soon as you make eye contact with Asahi, you perk up. “Asahi-san!” you exclaim, rushing towards him and almost falling over. You crush him in an unexpectedly tight hug. “Long time no see, big guy!” “I saw you three days ago,” he says under his breath. You continue babbling unintelligibly, and Asahi looks up at the bartender. “Did she close out her tab?” Asahi asks. “I took care of it already,” the bartender replies. “Please just make sure she gets home okay. She’s had a rough night.” “Yeah, of course,” Asahi says. “Thanks for helping her out.” “No problem.” Asahi peels your arms off him and starts to nudge you towards the door. Just before the two of you leave, Asahi stops and turns back to the bartender. “Have we met before?” he asks. “I played for Shiratorizawa. Didn’t think I’d see you again, Karasuno Samurai.” Asahi frowns slightly. He hasn’t heard that nickname high school, and it’s weird hearing it again now. “Right,” he says. “Well, thanks again. Have a good night.” Asahi leads you out of the bar and down the sidewalk. You hold tightly to his arm, stumbling over yourself. He braces you against his side, and you take this opportunity to tease him a little bit. “Do you like my outfit, Asahi-san?” you ask, pressing into his side. “Yeah, it’s really nice!” he answers nervously, turning his head to hide the blush creeping up his cheeks. He’s not lying – you look beautiful, both your top and your skirt accentuating your curves in all the right places. But it would be wrong to say anything more than that while you’re in this state. That wouldn’t be fair to either of you. He brusquely clears his throat and keeps walking as soon as the light signals that you can cross. “I dressed up extra nice tonight, but it didn’t even fucking matter,” you grumble, your voice breaking slightly. Asahi either doesn’t hear you, or does hear you and decides not to say anything. “I’m soooo glad you’re here,” you say, drawing out your words even longer than you were a minute ago. “I’m sorry, this is super embarrassing! I should’ve figured this out on my own.” “It’s okay,” Asahi says. “How long have you been in Tokyo again?” “A month? I think?” “Exactly,” he says. “You probably don’t know your way around that much. I’d feel terrible if I wasn’t able to help you find your way home.” “Meh,” you say. “I’ve had the worst night of my fucking life, so maybe it would be better if I passed out in a ditch somewhere.” “Do you want to talk about it?” Asahi asks. “No,” you answer quickly. “Okay.” You start blathering again and Asahi has to practically drag you down the street behind him. The station just past his apartment has a train that can drop you right by your building. He can just take a cab back after he gets you home. He considers inviting you stay the night at his place since it’s right there, but he’s afraid of being weird, so he doesn’t say anything. The two of you come to a stop at the train station… which is closed. “I’m sorry,” Asahi says remorsefully. “I guess the train stopped running at midnight. I’ll call you a cab.” He goes to pull his phone out of his pocket, but you grab his hand before he can. “Can I stay at your place tonight?” you ask sheepishly. “I… my roommate is out of town. And I’m really not doing good right now. I just really don’t want to be alone.” Despite how out of it you’ve been since he picked you up, Asahi sees nothing but complete sincerity in your eyes. Tonight must have been really rough. “Are you sure?” he asks. “I’ll just sleep on the couch- or a futon if you have one!” you say, nodding. “Okay.” Asahi turns back towards his apartment and you follow closely behind him, not letting go of his hand the entire time.

*

Asahi helps you across the threshold of his apartment and sits you down on a chair by the door. “Asahi-san, you’re so handsome with your hair down like that,” you say, reaching up to twirl a finger in his long chestnut tresses. “And you’re loopy,” Asahi mutters, disentangling your fingers from his hair. Once again, he finds himself hiding a blush. He’s not used to being showered with compliments, and he knows you wouldn’t be saying this stuff if you were sober. He kicks off his shoes and kneels down in front of you, helping you take yours off. “How are you feeling?” he asks you. “Can I get you some water or a some–” “Why didn’t you ask me out when we were in high school?” you ask suddenly. “I think I made it pretty obvious that I had a crush on you. It’s all I could think about when you were holding my hand back there.” “I – I, uh,” Asahi stammers. You burst out laughing, startling Asahi. It’s that same boisterous laugh you’ve had for as long as he could remember knowing you. You were always self-conscious about it in high school, but your laugh has always been one of Asahi’s favorite things about you. Despite the fact that it’s at his expense, he’s glad to see your mood improve. Asahi considers your question for a moment. He really liked you too back then, and everyone knew it. Suga and Daichi constantly teased him for it.

So why hadn’t he asked you out back then?

Well, for a number of reasons. He spent so much of his third year focused on volleyball that he didn’t have the mental or emotional capacity for much else. He hadn’t even planned on going back to school after graduation until Nishinoya helped convince him to pursue his passions. He felt directionless, and he didn’t want to burden anybody else with his indecision. But most importantly, he was scared you’d reject him. Suga was right. He really was a coward. He’d dated a few people since high school graduation, but none of them made him feel the way you did, and they didn’t treat him as well as you would have. Which begs the question – why hasn’t he asked you out since you moved to Tokyo? He pushes the thought to the back of his mind. This isn’t the kind of conversation to be having when you aren’t even able to form a coherent sentence. Asahi’s thoughts are interrupted by your hand on his shoulder and a loud hiccup. “I should wash my face. Can I wash my face?” “Sure,” Asahi says, helping you stand up. You stumble forward, but he catches you easily and pulls you back to your feet. He quietly leads you to the bathroom and sits you down on the edge of the bathtub. “I’m sorry,” you say. “I’m a mess.” “No, you’re not. Hold on a second,” he says, opening the drawer under the sink. He pulls out a small package of makeup wipes and takes one out. He kneels in front of you and begins wiping the makeup off your face. “I know they’re not great for your skin,” he says. “But it’s better than nothing, right?” “Why do you even have those?” you ask between hiccups. “Do you wear makeup? I mean, it’s obviously fine if you do, but it doesn’t really seem like your thing.” “I don’t, but you never know when they’ll come in handy! I do work with a lot of makeup artists,” he says, somewhat defensively. You get the sense that he’s lying about something, but Asahi changes the subject before you can probe him any further. “So what were you doing there by yourself?” he asks. “It’s not safe to be alone so late at night.” Clearly this was the wrong thing to ask. All the negative emotions and thoughts you were having all even spring to the forefront of your mind, and you start to cry. Asahi starts apologizing profusely, but you wave him off. “It’s fine,” you sniffle, wiping a tear away from your cheek. “Kokomi was trying to set me up with one of her friends, but he never showed up.” Asahi sits back on his heels. Kokomi is another girl from Karasuno that ended up in Tokyo. She wasn’t in the same class as him, but he remembers how loud she always was in the hallways. Honestly, both of you were always loud, but you’ve always been much more considerate of others than Kokomi ever was. “Shit,” he mumbles. “That really sucks. I’m sorry.” “Yeah. It does suck.” Asahi grabs another wipe and asks you to close your eyes. You do as he says, and he lightly wipes off your eye makeup. He’s worked with enough models to recognize that you’re wearing false eyelashes, so he gently pulls those off too. You feel yourself start to wobble on the edge of the tub, so you grip his arm to steady yourself. “I’m sorry,” you whisper. “It’s okay,” he says. “You don’t need to keep apologizing to me.” “Do you think there’s something wrong with me?” you ask suddenly. “Wait, what?” “I just… this keeps happening to me. Everyone always says that it’s because they’re not the right person for me, but it’s starting to feel like there’s just something wrong with me instead,” you say, choking back a sob. “I know I just moved here, but I’m just so lonely. I hate feeling like I’m not good enough.” Asahi tenderly wipes a tear from your cheek and cups your face in both hands. “Hey, look at me. There is nothing wrong with you,” he says sincerely. “That guy is an idiot and a jerk. If he had any idea how extraordinary you are, he never would’ve done that to you.” You can’t bring yourself to look him in the eyes. You don’t feel like you deserve to be spoken to like this – with such genuine kindness and sincerity. Asahi makes you feel so good. So special. He always has. And he’s just so… tender, especially for somebody who looks as intimidating as he does. You wonder if those feelings from high school ever truly went away. You sit up straighter and try to smile at him, but your stomach flips unexpectedly and violently. “Asahi-san?” you ask, gripping his shoulder tightly. “Yeah?” he replies. “Toilet.” Asahi moves out of the way as fast as possible. You hunch over the rim and retch into the toilet bowl. Asahi quickly scoops up your hair and holds it behind your head as you throw up. “Please, just leave me,” you mutter. “I’m gonna fucking die here.” “I’m not going to leave you here and you’re not going to die,” Asahi says, gingerly picking up the last loose strands laying on your neck and holding them back with the rest of your hair. Your back tenses up again before you begin heaving once more. Asahi tucks his nose into the collar of his shirt, careful to make sure that he’s out of your field of vision. He wants to be there for you but he had a weak stomach himself and the sight and smell of somebody else’s vomit is something he knows he won’t be able to handle. You mumble weak apologies between hacks, but Asahi just ignores them and rubs your back gently. After what feels like an eternity, the churning in your stomach finally stops and you reach up towards the flush handle. The exhaustion in your body and heart finally begin to catch up with you, and your hand falls back to your side. “I got it. Do you think you’re done?” Asahi asks, coaxing you back up into a seated position. You nod, too tired to try to speak. Asahi quickly tugs his shirt back down from his face before you can see and closes the toilet lid. “I’m sorry,” you mumble. “Don’t be,” Asahi says, flushing the toilet. “I’m your friend. I want to help you. And I’ve already told you that you don’t need to apologize to me.” Asahi helps you sit on the top of the toilet and rises to his feet. “Don’t go anywhere,” he says, scurrying out of the room. Although your eyes are closed, you still feel your body swaying. More than anything, you just want to go to sleep. Asahi pads back into the room and presses a wooden cup into your hands. “Drink this,” he says, turning on the faucet. Even though drinking something is the last thing you want to be doing right now, you go ahead and lift the cup to your open mouth. Cold water passes your lips and washes away some of the disgusting taste in your mouth. It feels gross, but you force yourself to drink all of it. Asahi takes the cup from your hand and turns the faucet back off. You flinch at the feeling of a damp washcloth on your face. “It’s okay,” Asahi says gently, cradling your chin with his free hand and angling your face up. “Just cleaning you up a little.” You murmur in acknowledgement and Asahi continues to wipe your face down. You almost fall asleep sitting on his toilet, but he gently shakes you to keep you awake. “Stay with me for another minute,” he says softly. “You can go to sleep soon. You’re gonna be just fine. I promise.” His words and his voice are so sweet that you want to cry. A couple rogue tears drip from your eyes and onto his hands. “I’m sorry,” you say once more. Asahi sets the washcloth on the counter and starts to pull you to your feet. You struggle to stay on your feet, so instead, he carefully scoops you into his arms and carries you out the bathroom. You don’t care where you go, you just need to sleep. Asahi’s pretty certain you’re asleep by the time he deposits you on his mattress. Your chest rises and falls slowly as he pulls his duvet over you. He begins to make his way to the couch, but stops when he feels you grab his hand. “Please don’t go, Asahi-san,” you whisper. “Please.” You tug harder at his fingers and he knows he can’t refuse you. He ends up sitting on the edge of the bed holding your hand until you fall asleep.

*

As soon as your quiet snores permeate the silence, Asahi untangles his fingers from yours. He brushes a loose strand of hair out of your face and he can’t help but let his eyes linger on your sleeping face for just a moment. The moonlight trickling through the window illuminates your hair and casts a silvery glow on your skin. Despite the awful night you’ve had, you look absolutely radiant. He feels himself blushing again, but he takes some comfort in the fact that he doesn’t have to try and hide it this time. Not while you’re fast asleep in his bed. He’s far too scared to admit it, even to himself, but he’s fantasized about falling asleep next to you many times before. But in those fantasies you weren’t drunk and crying over another man. Asahi sighs, stands up, and moves over to the dresser as quietly as he can. After setting a few things out for you, he goes into the bathroom, gets ready for bed and heads to the couch for the night.

*

By the time you wake up in the morning, you feel like you’re going to die. You can’t remember what exactly happened the previous night. The last thing you remember clearly was talking to the bartender about high school volleyball, of all things. Your head’s pounding, and your stomach aches painfully, screaming at you to please eat something. You don’t open your eyes, fearing that it would somehow trigger another round of vomiting. Eventually, you force yourself into a seated position and open your eyes. The bedroom you’re in is small, but pretty well-decorated. It’s decently tidy. The only mess is a few crumpled up clothing designs discarded on the floor next to the trash bin.

Designs? Did that mean?

You’re at Asahi’s apartment. In his bed. Your eyes widen in panic.

  What happened last night?

You’re still wearing the clothes that you wore to the bar last night. And there’s no evidence of him ever being in bed with you. You reach over towards your phone, which has been graciously plugged in for you and set on the bedside table. That’s when you notice the note along with a sleeve of crackers and a glass of ginger ale.

Good morning!

There’s a set of clothes you can wear at the foot of the bed and a spare toothbrush in the bathroom. Feel free to take a shower if you want. Extra towels are underneath the sink. Please have something to eat and drink too. You’ll feel better if you do.

-Asahi

P.S. Please don’t feel bad. It’s okay.

You grab a few of the crackers from the bedside table and eat them, washing them down with the ginger ale.

Why does Asahi have to be so damn considerate? The whole situation is so embarrassing.

You contemplate just grabbing your phone and getting the hell out of his apartment, but you’re not going to pass up the opportunity to shower. You finish the last of the crackers, chug down the ginger ale, and grab the spare clothes at the end of the bed. You turn the doorknob as silently as you can and awkwardly creep down the hall towards the bathroom, stopping briefly to peek in the living room. Asahi’s fast asleep on the couch, clad only in pajama pants and a pair of fuzzy socks. His hair is down and messily splayed across the throw pillow he’s resting his head on. Quiet snores pass his lips. He looks cute. Your eyes trail from his face and down to his stomach. Despite quitting volleyball after high school, he seems to have mostly maintained his athletic form, except for a tiny little layer of pudge on his lower stomach. The corners of your lips twitch up into a smile, until that little voice in the back of your mind reminds you of your place.

Quit staring, you perv! You need to get out of here!

You hurriedly continue down the hallway and jump into the shower as soon as you get into the bathroom. You think that maybe if you clean up fast enough, you can get out of Asahi’s apartment before he wakes up. However, as soon as you step into the shower, all worries about rushing out disappear into the back of your mind. You bask in the hot water, the steam clearing your sinuses and relieving some of the pain in your head. You silently thank the gods that Asahi actually uses conditioner, and not just 3-in-1 like most of the other men you were previously…. acquainted with. Although, it makes sense to you that somebody with hair like Asahi’s would have a strict haircare routine. As you shower, fragmented memories of last night start to come back to you.

Being stood up at the bar. Calling Asahi for help. Puking your guts out in his bathroom. Him carrying you into his room and laying you down on his bed. Him staying by your side until you fell asleep. You wishing he would’ve crawled into bed with you and held you through the night… Wait, what was that last part?

As soon as you’re done rinsing the conditioner from your hair, you step out of the shower and swiftly towel off. You find the spare toothbrush Asahi mentioned, take it out of the packaging, and brush your teeth with his toothpaste. The dry, gross feeling in your mouth is quickly replaced with a minty fresh taste. You slip on the sweatpants and t-shirt that Asahi left for you and dry your hair. Thankfully, Asahi isn’t as huge as most people make him out to be, so while the clothes he left out are a bit big on you, you’re not drowning in them. You’ll just bring them back some other day. You start combing through your hair, and that’s when you hear it – the sound of somebody padding around in the apartment. Shit. Once the footsteps quiet down, you rush out of the bathroom and towards the front door. Asahi eyes you as you scoop up your shoes, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Good morning!” he says kindly. “How are you feeling?” “I’m so sorry Azumane-san, it won’t happen again!” you say as you throw open the door and rush into the hallway. “Hold on, wait up!” he says as you pull the door closed behind you. You run all the way to the stairs at the end of the hallway and go to call Kokomi for a ride home. That’s when you realize that your phone is still plugged into the wall in Asahi’s room. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. You turn around and trudge back towards his apartment. Before you can even knock, the door opens slowly. Asahi stands there in just his pajama pants, holding your phone out to you. “You shouldn’t leave without your phone,” he says. You thank him and take your phone, a blush creeping up your cheeks. You try not to stare at his bare chest, already feeling like a creep for ogling him while he was sleeping. “Your clothes are still in the bathroom, too,” he says. “I can go get them for you. Or I can just wash them and give them back to you another time if you want to leave.” “No, that’s okay,” you say, covering your flushing cheeks with the collar of his shirt. “I’ll get them. Can I come in?” “Of course.” Asahi steps out of your way and you head straight for the bathroom, avoiding looking in his eyes. Asahi never gets angry, and you know he wouldn’t be mad at you over something like this, but a lingering sense of shame still washes over you. You scoop up your clothes and leave the bathroom. As soon as you cross the threshold into the living room, the smell of coffee and frying fish washes over you. Asahi stands in the kitchen, cooking breakfast. In the time that you were in the bathroom, he put on a Black Jackals sweatshirt and threw his hair into a loose bun. “Do you want a cup of coffee?” he asks, smiling at you and pouring his own cup. “It’ll help with the hangover.” You stand there and ponder his offer for a moment. Sensing your hesitancy, Asahi suddenly turns back to the stove and mumbles something that you can’t quite make out. “What did you say?” you ask. Asahi rubs the back of his neck, a nervous habit he’s had since you were kids. “I don’t mean to pressure you to stay or anything! I just thought it might help for you to have something more than crackers and ginger ale.” “You’ve done plenty to help me since last night,” you say. “But I’ll take that coffee if the offer is still on the table.” “It is!” Asahi says a little too enthusiastically for his own good. You can’t help but smirk as you take your seat at the kitchen table. Asahi pours you a cup of coffee and slides you a bowl of the rice and fish he made. You thank him quietly and start to eat. He slides into the chair across from you and eats his own breakfast, eyeing you carefully. “What?” you ask after catching him staring. “Since when have you ever called me Azumane-san?” he asks. “I don’t know,” you mumble into your coffee mug. “I didn’t think we reverted back from first name basis,” he says. “I thought we knew each other better than that.” “I don’t know,” you say, a devilish smile crossing your face. “Care to explain why you actually had those makeup wipes in your bathroom drawer? I doubt your makeup artists are coming over to your apartment.” Now it’s Asahi’s turn to blush again. “My ex-girlfriend left them here,” he says. “Felt like a waste to just throw them out.” “Ex-girlfriend?!” you exclaim suddenly, startling Asahi and causing him to drop the wipe on the floor. “I didn’t know you were seeing somebody!” “Yeah,” he says, throwing the wipe in the trash and grabbing a fresh one. “We broke up a while before you moved to the city. She left a bunch of her stuff here and refused to come pick it up. I think she was just too embarrassed to see me again. I got rid of most of it a while ago, but I kept some of the more… uh, utilitarian things.” “I’m sorry,” you say sincerely. “Why did you break up?” Asahi feels a slight pang in his chest. He met his last girlfriend through his job. She was nice enough, and things seemed like they were going okay until he showed up at her apartment to surprise her for their 6 month anniversary, only to find another man in her bed. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” you say. “It’s fine. She cheated on me with some other guy,” he says, his expression darkening. “I think they’re engaged now.” “Shit,” you say. “What a bitch.” “Woah, settle down, it’s okay –” “No, it’s not,” you say firmly. “You deserve someone way better than that. Somebody that treats you with the love and respect that you deserve.” Asahi knows you’re right, but he doesn’t really want to press it. That whole mess had done a number on his mental health, and he really doesn’t want to burden you with his emotional baggage. He adjusts his glasses again and forces a smile. “You know, you should really take your own advice,” he says. You try to think back on what you had said to him last night. The details are fuzzy, but you remember crying. A lot. Instead of answering him, you shovel down the last of the rice and fish. “Thank you for the meal,” you say. Asahi smiles and nods at you before beginning to clear the dishes away. You stand up and stop him, insisting that you clean up yourself. As you finish drying the bowls, your phone buzzes. You check it, only to see a handful of missed texts from Kokomi.

Ono Kokomi [8:32} Hey!! Sorry I missed your call. How was he?  (°◡°♡) [9:14] That good?  (^.~)☆ [9:18] Or that bad?! (;;;*_*) [9:57] HELLO?? (ﾉಥ益ಥ)ﾉ [10:32] ARE YOU ALIVE?!?!?!  〣( ºΔº )〣

You roll your eyes and quickly type out your response.

Y/N [10:33] Yeah, no thanks to you. (￢_￢;)

Ono Kokomi [10:34] Was it really that bad?

Y/N [10:34] He didn’t even show up. (╥_╥) [10:34] Azumane picked me up at 2 AM because I was too drunk to go home alone. I stayed the night at his place. [10:34] Speaking of which, can you come pick me up? Not really in a state to take the train and I think you owe me one.

Ono Kokomi [10:35] (⊙_⊙) [10:35] Spill. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Y/N [10:36] There’s nothing to spill. I threw up in his bathroom and he slept on the couch. Can you just answer my question please? (҂` ﾛ ´)凸

Ono Kokomi [10:36] Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’m on my way, lovebird. (￣ε￣＠)

“Everything okay?” Asahi asks. “Yeah,” you say, slipping your phone back into your pocket. “Kokomi’s going to come pick me up.” “Are you sure? I can take you if you want,” he offers. “Yeah, she’s already on her way,” you say, setting the bowl down and turning to face him. “Besides, you’ve done more than enough for me already over the last twelve hours.” You silently pick up your things and walk towards the door. Asahi rises from his chair and awkwardly clears his throat. “Do you have all your stuff?” You nod and smile. Before you open the door, you approach him and wrap your arms around his waist. He shyly hugs you back, hoping you can’t hear the rapid pounding in his chest. “Thank you, Asahi,” you whisper. “You’re amazing.” You let go first and leave his apartment quietly. As soon as the door closes, Asahi walks back into the living room and flops down on the couch. He covers his face with his hands and groans. This morning was almost too much for him – seeing you in his clothes, eating breakfast together, you hugging him before you left. It was all so painfully domestic, and he wishes it didn’t have to end. If only he wasn’t such a coward, he would’ve asked you to stay longer. He doesn’t know how long he lays there until he finally decides to get moving for the day and finish that piece he was working on when you called last night. He checks his phone and sees your name pop up on the screen.

Y/N [11:00] I’m home. Thanks again for babysitting me last night. Whatever did I do to deserve you as my guardian angel? ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ✩‧₊˚ [11:00] Or was that Noya-san? I forget. (^ω~)

Azumane Asahi [11:01] Lol. You’re welcome. And that was what we called Noya in our club days, but I don’t mind you calling me that too (* ^ ω ^)

Y/N [11:03] Let me make it up to you. [11:04] Come over for dinner tomorrow night?

Asahi almost drops his phone on his face. His fingers fumble as he types his response. He waits a moment before sending it, rereading it ten times to make sure he doesn’t come across as desperate.

Azumane Asahi [11:07] I’d love to. Do you want me to bring anything?

Y/N [11:08] That’s not necessary. I owe you a nice dinner. [11:09] You still like tonkotsu ramen?

Azumane Asahi [11:10] I do!

Y/N [11:11] It’s a date! See you tomorrow! (☞°ヮ°)☞ ☜(°ヮ°☜)

*

“You said nothing happened last night,” Kokomi says, staring over your shoulder at your phone. “Nothing happened, Kokomi. Now leave me alone,” you snap, tossing one of your throw pillows at her. She deftly catches it and plops down on the couch next to you. “Please,” she says, swatting you with the pillow. “The only reason you two haven’t gotten together is because you’re the densest people on the planet. I bet he’s flopped down on his couch right now thinking about how he doesn’t even want to wait that long to see you.” “Shut up,” you grumble. Kokomi’s phone rings and she quickly checks it. “Anyway, I have to go meet Kaito,” she says. “Got to go. Let me know how your date goes!” She waves and practically skips out the front door. You lay down and start making a shopping list for ingredients for tonkatsu ramen. As soon as you’re done, you set your phone down and cross your arms over your face.

“I bet he’s flopped down on his couch right now thinking about how he doesn’t even want to wait that long to see you.” No, Kokomi. That’s me.

#asahi azumane #azumane asahi #asahi x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu #haikyuu fic #haikyuu fic writer #asahi x female reader #asahi x you #asahi x yn

[hohoz]

The ones that suffer the most

I wanted to talk about this for a long time.

I’m a Resident evil addicted, I finished almost every RE game released and I must say that Capcom made some poor choices regarding Jill and Chris, they are EASILY the most mistreated characters in RE Franchise. 

But let’s explain why is that: 

Jill and Chris are survivors, they had to survive in a mansion with a lot of puzzles and zombies, while looking for items that could help them to progress and find a way to reach Brad. 

When they arrive at STARS Office, they are revolted that Umbrella did all that under their noses and innocents were dying because of that and they explained EVERYTHING in a report - but Irons made that go away. 

In the ORIGINAL RE3 we had this special file (Jill’s Diary) 

August 7th Two weeks have passed since that day. My wounds have been healed, but I just can't forget it. For most people, it's history now. But for me, whenever I close my eyes, it all comes back clearly. Zombies eating people's flesh and the screams of my teammates dying. No, the wounds in my heart are not healed yet...

August 13th Chris has been causing a lot of trouble recently. What's with him? He seldom talks to the other police members and is constantly irritated. The other day, he punched Elran of the Boy's Crime department just for accidentally splashing Chris's face with coffee. I immediately stopped Chris, but when he saw me he just gave me a wink and walked away. I wonder what happened to him...

August 15th Midnight. Chris, who has been on a leave of absence for a "vacation," called me so I visited his apartment. As soon as I walked into his room, he showed me a couple of pieces of paper. They were part of a virus research report entitled as simply as "G". Then Chris told me that, "The nightmare still continues." He went on to say that, "It's not over yet." Ever since that day, he has been fighting all by himself without rest, without even telling me.

August 24th Chris left the town today to go to Europe. Barry told me that he would send his family to Canada and then he would follow Chris. I decided to remain in Raccoon City for a while because I know that the research facility in this city will be very important to this entire case. In a month or so, I'll be joining with them somewhere in Europe. That's when my real battle begins...

For some weird reason this file isn’t available in RE3 Remake. 

But ok, here we see that Chris was doing some investigation - in the RE2RMK  you could see this letter that Chris left in a way that normal people wouldn't understand - the only thing that Claire says is that “doesnt look like him” but how normies would understand what Chris is like is he is not well represented in media ??????????????????

And Jill had all the detective work in her wall. 

So far so good - we understand the basics about them - they are Special police force, the elite, they had a traumatic experience and they survived to tell the story. 

Some problems until now:

Jill had a MAJOR personality change in RE3 RMK- I honestly like most of that, she is a badass in the originals and she is a badass in the rmk but I still dislike the fact that she swears all the time (specially because in RE1, RE Rev, RE5 she doesn't do that) 

We can tell a lot about her personality just looking at her room, but I still miss some stuff (I had expectations - so this is not a real problem. but still) like a Vinyl player (since she is probably into classical music), some letters from her father so new players can understand her origin and why is she so good in lockpicking and more about her dog (she had a pic in the original that could’ve been her boyfriend but it was replaced by a dog in RE2 rmk but in RE3 Rmk there in no dog) 

Okay - after you finish the game the only thing we see is this: 

In my opinion this is Chris since he is always associated with Green colors while Jill is associated with blue. 

So my speculation here is that she found him while in the original we had this: 

This is not a major chance but still is important (lore of course - duh) but the problem here is that while Jill is looking for him - Code Veronica is happening. 

So I can only assume two things, they did not show him because they DON’T HAVE A FACE FOR HIM or I am wrong and that is Jill, but if that is Jill so why there is no decent epilogue like the original ? 

Okay, now we are arriving in the real trouble area

I will do RE5 first and the Wii and Rev1 (even tho those two comes first in the lore) 

RESIDENT EVIL 5 

So before the game was release we had some propaganda, including this: 

So have in mind that Jill was dead, I thought that she died and RE5 would explain that shit. 

But in the beginning we see that Chris is looking for her and have in mind that Chris HAD A MAJOR CHANCE IN HIS APPEARANCE, and I’m not talking about his muscles. 

I will not address Chris in CV since he was good in that game but I the team that made CV also made the original, it had CONSISTENCE. 

Here we have Chris, he’s THE classical american soldier protagonist from Hollywood in the 80′s/90′s and he had some omage to TOPGUN

He also shares some traits with his sister

A major trait here is that HE HAS BLUE EYES, typical good looking soldier from US. 

and now let’s have a look at Chris in RE5...

Yeah... I still hate this face even tho I love his Character in this game, this ugly a** monkey looking mf and he had a lot of steroids

So we have some lore to him in RE5, Jill and Chris went to a mansion looking for Spencer (one of the fathers of Umbrella and the one that was behind project Wesker, he wanted to do this Virus so he could live forever, so RE has a good lore, it’s not just about zombies) but when they found him, he was dead and Wesker was by his side, in a fight Jill sacrificed herself to save Chris’s life. 

Chris started doing mission after mission because her body was never found, and he made a name for himself, he became a ‘legend’ inside BSAA and you can see that in the beginning of RE5.

The reason behind the muscles was probably to fight Wesker mano to mano but still is not well made, it really felt weird playing for the first time. 

So now we have a problem here, there is thing that you use in a narrative that is to make someone strong af powerless, and they did that to Jill. (a good example of this is in TWD- Ricky is a fucking legend and Negan made him powerless in the face of a event) 

Jill was used in a Boss fight and that is it... She is not in the game as a character, she is being manipulated and her whole design was changed, she looks like Nina from Tekken. WTF. - BTW, the fact that Wesker had mind control over her created 1000 fics of sex 

 So that is it, my main problem here isnt Jill itself, but it’s the fact that they used her character as a boss even tho she is the heroine, she never appears in RE lore again until some guy inside Capcom said “Well people are asking about Jill so let’s place a file in Rev2 saying that she is in rehab” 

The only time that she appears again is in a 3DS NINTENDO ONLY game, it felt that Capcom simply don’t care about her character. 

By the way Revelations 1 is a great game and was adaptable some years later for PC and consoles

But you think that this is bad, wait until we arrive at RESIDENT EVIL 6 

When I learned that Jill was not in RE6 I was mad... But after I played that game I said “thank you God” that game was bad, transformers kind of bad, it had bad writing, the lore was all over the place and Chris was the one that suffered the most in this game. 

He was responsible for the death of an entire squad, suffered amnesia and people still wanted him in the command 

THEY MADE HIM AN ALCOHOLIC 

The golden boy of BSAA reduced to THIS. 

By the way, the director said that HE WANTED TO KILL CHRIS IN THIS GAME to SUBVERT EXPECTATIONS - so if you liked Piers now that he died only because of that. 

So now let’s analyse what we know: 

The first 2 main characters are not well represented in media until RE6, they don’t know how to re introduce Jill in the games and Chris was reduced to a normal guy at a Russian bar;

But it gets worse... 

Capcom LOVE Leon, we know that. he is always the hero, he is the protagonist in almost every movie and he is always the cool guy so when he get’s a new model, he looks like this:

But When Chris get’s a new face he look like this: 

WHO DAFUQ ARE U, no offense to the model but he has NEGATIVE JAW LINE.

And still he doesn't look like Claire’s brother, there is no blue/green eyes and he looks younger that he was in 6 (and 6 still uses that ugly character model) 

But let’s go in the lore- we HAVE 0 info on Jill in RE6 / RE7 and no sight of her in RE8 

And speaking of which, they tried to make Chris the bad guy in the trailer so when we play we see “Ohhhh he was not the bad guy, that happened and that is why he did that” 

But still... 

If they are going to do that to his character don’t use this character, shit ! Do something with that Wesker’s son that made 0 sense in RE6 but leave Chris out of this - it really feels that they simply don’t know how to treat him right

And you may think that I may be complaining a lot because of his appearance

But this is him in RE8  

(to me this is some random dude from Russia) 

And this is him in RE:Verse (that is going to be release TOGETHER) 

So this tells me that they have 0 clue of how to handle his looks

Jill got RE3Rmk but it felt like a cheap game compared to RE2Rmk where the original RE3 was SO MUCH BETTER

And this is bad because there are so many new fans joining the fandom only to see 2 great characters suffering from poor director’s choices. 

I’m sorry about this rant, if you like Chris face and looks its okay, really, but dont tell me that Chris from 5/6/8 is the same from 1/CV and if you think im wrong about Jill its fine, but she is an amazing character that could have so much more impact in RE universe (I mean, she never even appeared in a RE movie - animations) 

But it’s sad to see so many characters that receive good representation in media and good games/lore while Jill get’s almost none and Chris is handled like random face guy. 

I was going to talk a little bit more about Rev 1 and RE Umbrella Chronicles but there is no need since Im mad right now and it seems that Capcom has 0 interest in making Code Veronica and Umbrella’s fall after that since their fav boy Leon need a rmk in RE4 even tho RE4 is not that old. 

Bonus:

Fun fact: Chris served in the Air force, so yeah, to me even Tom Cruise looks more like Chris than Chris from the games

#resident evil #resident #evil #chris #redfield #Jill #valentine #resident evil 8 #rant #capcom #Claire Redfield #leon scott kennedy #visual #valenfield #topgun #capcom dont know how to handle good characters #directors wanting to kill chris #now he could be a werewolf #for fucks sake #at least #ethan #is being handled better #than they are #good job capcom #very nice indeed #now im going to watch top gun #just for fun #reverse #re verse #resident evil 3

[immaturityofthomasastruc]

#5: The One With Astruc's Self-Insert

In my introductory post, I said the main inspiration for this blog was @hypocrisyofandrewdobson​. For those who don't know, Andrew Dobson is an infamous webcomic artist known for drawing webcomics that tend to demonize people he's come across in public or people who disagree with him online (either critical of his art or his political views), while portraying himself as the victim or wise man calling them out on their differing beliefs.

If you want to learn more about this guy who I consider to be far worse than Astruc, check out the blog in question. And no, I don't know why he draws himself as a blue bear.

Why am I talking about this? It's one thing for some schmuck on the internet to use his work to respond to criticism, but the creator of a popular animated series dedicating an entire episode to attacking his critics and trying to get others to feel bad for him is another story.

The second episode of Miraculous Ladybug's third season, “Animaestro” served as a wake-up call for fans (myself included) to make them realize how immature Astruc could be. The plot centers around the premiere of a movie about Ladybug and Cat Noir directed by Thomas Astruc, who voices himself in the original French dub.

And this isn't just a brief cameo like what Stan Lee did in the MCU. Astruc is the Akumatized person this episode, so there's naturally a lot of focus on him. Throughout the first half of the episode, Astruc portrays himself as this timid man who nobody recognizes or respects, like this idiot who doesn't know what animation is.

Doorman: This is a private event, sir.

Astruc: Huh? Excuse me? I'm Thomas Astruc, the movie director.

Doorman: You filmed Cat Noir and Ladybug? What are they like in real life?

Astruc: Er, it's an animated movie. It's all cartoon characters. We don't actually film anyone. See, there's this whole team that draw the chara—

Doorman: Whatever. Who would want to see Ladybug and Cat Noir as cartoon characters?

Get it? Wasn't that meta joke hilarious? This is how much I was laughing:

And Astruc continues to get about as much respect as Rodney Dangerfield when he interacts with other characters like Jagged Stone and Chloe.

Jagged Stone: Ladybug is one of my best buds! I can't wait to see her movie!

Astruc: Well I—I'm the director, so actually it's more my movie, so to speak.

Jagged Stone: Oh, so you're the one who created the story?

Astruc: Well, technically the screen writers wrote the story, inspired by Ladybug's exploits.

Jagged Stone: Oh, okay. So you did all the drawings?

Thomas: No, no. The animators do all the drawings.  

Jagged Stone: So what do you do then?

(Later on...)

Chloe: So you're the one responsible for this movie?

Astruc: Yes, yes! Exactly! That's me!

Chloe: Then you were the one who left Queen Bee out of the trailer. You're lame, utterly lame.

I can't believe Astruc had a scene where he interacted with Chloe and didn't insult her at all.

The episode is determined to make the audience feel bad for Astruc. Nobody respects him and what he does. Isn't that saaaaaad? Nobody cares about animated film directors like Walt Disney or Tex Avery anyway. Not even these stupid children understand how hard Astruc works.

Several Children: Ladybug! Where's Ladybug?

Astruc: Hey there, kids!

Teacher: Ladybug isn't here children. We came here to meet the director of the movie. Children: (frowning in disappointment) Aww.

(Astruc looks visibly disappointed.)

Way to insult your primary demographic, Astruc. I thought you said kids have a better understanding of these stories when people criticized the writing of a certain episode (It's that scene in “Puppeteer 2” if you're curious/don't value your sanity).

It's almost like you're using that as an excuse to half-ass your work while still getting to claim this show is so groundbreaking.

In case you can't tell, “Animaestro” is one of those episodes. The ones where the showrunners decide to dedicate an entire episode to attacking critics of the show in a blunt fashion. Whenever a show addresses criticism, they either create an obvious strawman character to parrot the opinions of fans who don't like their work, or have someone defend the show and insult the critics directly.

The problem isn't that they're ignoring criticism. It's their show, and they aren't obligated to listen to critics or fans who don't like the direction the show is taking. On the other hand, they aren't obligated to fight back like this and treat their audience like crap. Any show that does something like the three clips I showed you usually comes off as petty and immature because they dedicate so much time to insulting the critics. 

Even during the Akuma fight, Astruc has to call out Ladybug for having problems with his movie in-universe, obviously representing critics of the show Astruc claims have no right to criticize the show while it's still airing.

Ladybug: What's with that trailer too? I am not scared of cats, at all.

Astruc/Animaestro: You haven't even seen the movie and you're already slamming it?

Cat Noir: He does have a point, you know.

Ladybug: I wasn't slamming it. It's called constructive criticism!

Yeah, how dare Ladybug be angry that this movie is portraying her as a powerless coward dependent on Cat Noir as opposed to a confident and brave superhero. She just doesn't understand the genius of Thomas Astruc!

And of course the character Astruc claims is “perfect” is the one to take his side.

And that's another problem with this episode, the metatextual references. Before he gets akumatized, Astuc says he spent three years of his life working on his movie. I get that time in this show is weird (we somehow had episodes taking place on the first day of school, Christmas, Valentine's Day, and the first day of Summer), but how did Astruc's self-insert work on a movie based on a superhero who has only been active for a year? Meta-wise, it's an obvious reference to the scorn Astruc has gotten from fans after working so hard on his show, but the only people who would get that reference are the ones who are aware of Astruc's reputation online.

Self-Insert aside, I actually think the titular Animaestro is one of the more visually impressive Akumas featured on the show. Animaestro takes on several forms based off several different forms and eras of animation, like flash, anime, rubber hose, and they all stand out. Granted, some of them are obvious parodies of other characters like Goku or Sailor Moon, but the actual Akuma fight is fun to watch. According to the Mexican Miraculous Ladybug Twitter account, this episode took two and a half years to create, and it shows. It's too bad the story behind it is completely insufferable, almost like the cartoon equidistant to Pixels.

But then comes the part that honestly makes the episode worth it, mainly for how unintentionally hilarious it is. Do you want to know what Animaestro's weakness is? Do you really want to know?

Animaestro is physically incapable of moving unless someone is watching him. I am not making this up.

Ladybug and Cat Noir literally defeat Animaestro by getting everyone to stop paying attention to him.

I could make so many jokes with this, but I can guarantee you're already thinking of something just as good, if not better, than whatever I write.

And there's the end where Astruc gives Marinette his ticket to the movie, which prompts Marinette to kiss up to him for no real reason.

Astruc: Sorry, I guess you don't know who I am either.

Marinette: Of course do. You're Thomas Astruc, the movie director!

Astruc: She recognized me. Somebody actually recognized me!

Nothing happened to make her change her opinion on the Ladybug movie, she didn't really say anything to him earlier in the episode that connects to this exchange, and outside of a few lines Animaestro said, she doesn't even know why he got akumatized (even though ironically she and Chloe accidentally contributed to it because of the awful subplot involving Kagami I talked about last time). If anything, it comes off less like she actually appreciates Astruc's work, and more like she's stroking his ego just to keep him from getting akumatized again.

So yeah, this episode is awful, and the fact that it came out right after the controversial “Chameleon” only proved to show what kind of direction the show was taking this season.

But honestly, even if Astruc still wanted to make about how he doesn't get enough respect the episode could have potentially. All he had to do was make a simple change: Instead of making it about validation for Astruc as a creator, make it about validation for animation in general.

It's a common misconception that animation is only used for shows and movies aimed at children, so the episode could reflect it. Instead of the huge turnout where several celebrities appear at the premiere, instead, the turnout could be a lot smaller, with the media dismissing it as some stupid kiddie flick. Instead of getting akumatized because he gets humiliated in public/getting no respect from anyone else, Astruc gets akumatized because he sees the audience didn't go wild for the movie after the premiere. All he can hear them say is that it's just “kids stuff”.

So when Astruc is Animaestro, he goes on about how important animation is. How it's helped produce propaganda since World War II. How it helped improve special effects in big blockbusters. How the medium is used to create movies that simply can't be filmed on a physical set.

After defeating Animaestro, Ladybug shows up to talk to him. She had seen the movie earlier, and actually enjoyed it. She had a few problems with the story, but they were just minor nitpicks and inaccuracies Astruc wouldn't know about, and she was blown away by the animation. She tells Astruc not to be deterred by his critics, and continue to do what he does. As a designer in her civilian life, Ladybug knows the joy creating brings her, and both she and Astruc want to spread that joy through their work.

Back at the premiere, Astruc thinks about what Ladybug said to him when he sees some kids reenacting a scene from the movie. Astruc walks over to them and asks what they thought of the movie. They said they loved it and how energetic it was. When he tells them he is the director, the kids' faces light up and they say they want to do what he does when they grow up, bringing a smile to Astruc's face.

Isn't that a much more humble approach instead of what we got? It would have helped Astruc come across as more sympathetic, especially with animation fans. But instead, we got an entire episode of Astruc whining about how misunderstood he is.

And you know the footage used for the movie at the beginning? Remember that, because I have a huge rant about it saved for a later post.

For now, here’s an example of a creator appearing in his work done right.

#immaturity of thomas astruc #thomas astruc #thomas astruc salt #miraculous ladybug #miraculous ladybug salt #animaestro #marinette dupain cheng #ladybug #adrien agreste #cat noir #chat noir #jagged stone #chloe bourgeois #queen bee #queen b #star trek: the next generation #the simpsons #harley quinn #teen titans go #thundercats roar #thundercats #spider-man #stan lee

[writer-panda]

Hit on the groom and what became of it - chapter 2/Take me out maybe (with a sniper rifle)

Disclaimer: I don’t own Miraculous or Batman (and other DC characters). This is just a fanfiction. 

Chapter 1  -|-  Next

--------

As much as Marinette disliked the meeting with the female entourage, when the time came to start working on Adrien’s suit she wanted to scream. She could clearly see that he was uncomfortable with even the gentlest touches. She did her best to make it as non-invasive to him as possible.

They had absolutely no privacy whatsoever. The Bodyguard (Gerard; His name was Gerard) and Nathalie observed their every move. Marinette was half-convinced it wasn’t her who was under watch. 

The professional atmosphere was far cry from her usual working environment. When Uncle Jagged, Clara Nightingale, or even Diana Prince came to her for clothes, it was always very informal. They would joke, gossip, or exchange stories while she worked. Now? Now she was wary of even speaking with Adrien. 

Likewise, the boy refused to meet her eyes or open his mouth. 

At some point, when she was trying to find the right shade of white for the undershirt, she noticed a make-up stain that was not there before. 

“I’m sorry, but I will need to request you remove the makeup. It is staining my materials.” She informed Nathalie and Gerard coldly. It was all she could do to resist calling the police there and there. Sadly, the commissioner was good friends with Gabriel, so it would most likely just end her career and make it worse for Adrien. 

“I was assured it would not leave stains on materials. Please accept our apologies. We will cover the costs of destroyed materials,” Nathalie informed her in an equally cold voice.

“I see…” Marinette’s lips thinned. Inside, she was screaming. But there was nothing she could do. The hit was in place. Soon Adrien would be safe. It would go without a hitch. It had to. 

As the group was leaving, she could’ve sworn the Bodyguard gave her a mournful look. As if he shared her sentiment, but was powerless to stop it. She’d know that look. She saw it in the mirror all too often.

---------

The Wedding (even the narrator started to capitalize it) came faster than Marinette wanted to accept. And there were still no words about the kidnapping. She made sure to specify that they were to take him before he was married or no payment. Did she not make the money enticing enough? Were there already attempts that were stopped without media coverage? Maybe she forgot to check some boxes?

A million scenarios ran through her head as she wandered through the alleyways.

The whole event was happening in Gotham Botanic Garden. Whatever the weak excuse was given to the press, Marinette knew the real reason: it was one of the few places in the world where Gabriel could marry his son to Lila legally without messing with courts. And bribes were said to be cheapest there. 

As the designer for both the bride and the groom, she was invited to the main ceremony. 

Lila was kind enough to even give her a seated place… right next to Chloé Bourgeois.

Marinette had a hard time deciding if it was bigger punishment to her or the mayor’s daughter. Ultimately, the two girls did their best to not look at each other during preparations. At first, that is, because the first chance she got, Chloé to drag the designer to a remote garden gazebo in a secluded corner when she was least expecting it.

“Wha-!” Marinette was about to protest, but the blonde covered her mouth. She seated her on the bench and took the seat on the opposite side. 

“I’ve been friends with Adrien since we were kids.” She announced in the usual ‘I’m-better-than-you’ tone. “I also know that you’re not always an idiot.”

“Gee! Thanks, Chloé… I’m honored with your praise.” Marinette deadpanned, interrupting the heiress. “Now get to the point”. She really hoped her dress wasn’t damaged or she might just turn to murder. 

“Fine. You worked with Adrien on his suit.” She paused, and for a moment, just a brief moment, her mask fell. That was not what Marinette expected. She has never seen Chloé so… so… The designer’s brain lacked the word to describe how her childhood bully looked like. “How is he?” The blonde asked, her voice almost trembling. 

Marinette opened her mouth, but no sound came. 

A moment passed.

“Not good.” She finally admitted. “During the measurements, he winced even at delicate touches. Plus I was called in last week to make some adjustments to his garments. He lost weight between then and now. And he wore makeup on his right arm. On both occasions.”

“Makeup?” Chloé’s eyes widened. 

“Yes. I would’ve probably missed it if I didn’t soak my fabric into makeup removed beforehand.” She thought back fondly to her brilliant idea. 

“They hurt him!?” Chloé burst out after few seconds. “I will show those… those…”

“Believe me, I share the sentiment.” Marinette nodded sagely. She needed plan B and needed it fast. There had to be something… “I slipped him a burner phone on his way out. I doubt they found it. If it gets really bad, he can try calling the police.”

“You are devious sometimes, Dupain-Cheng.” 

“Thanks. I try.” 

“So… they are coercing him into it?”

“I think so. He is resigned to his fate it seems, but he tries to show some rebelliousness. It wasn’t his father’s idea to hire me and Lila would rather walk to the altar naked than wear anything by me.” Marinette cringed. Any interaction she had with the Liar made her feel almost dirty. And forcing politeness was physically painful sometimes. 

“I got that much from the fact he hasn’t reported it yet. That burner phone was a good move, but Adrikins was always too obedient.”

“And I’m sure you had nothing to do with it,” Marinette muttered, but Chloé didn’t hear her. The heiress somehow managed to derail her rant into telling the story of her entire childhood.

Marinette listened only with one ear, filtering the information for something useful. The rest of her consciousness focused on something else. She started to seriously entertain the idea of using Miraculous to get Adrien out. She would need a combination of several powers though. Trixx was the obvious choice. Illusions would be a great asset. Maybe the Tiger, for the Power Up? If Roaar didn’t exaggerate her power, she would be able to put a distance between them and the city before anyone even realized what happened. She would need to time her illusion right though. And there were the American Heroes to watch out for…

If she didn’t use miraculous immediately, she might get a drop on the bodyguard(s) and then make an exit using Kaalki’s power when they were alone. Disable cameras, take out the guards, get in, portal out. It was feasible but still involved too many risks. If anyone connected miraculi to the operation, Ladybug would be in great trouble. She couldn’t endanger Paris like that… not even for her partner and best friend. 

Then, there was the most dangerous plan. Don’t use Miraculi at all. She was confident enough in her skills to enter undetected. Maybe even sneak out. The question was, would Adrien make it. She could sneak him Plagg’s ring. Chat Noir would have no problem leaving any prison. But… there would be the same risk as when any other Miraculi was connected and the whole point was not to use them in the first place. 

“Ugh!” She let out an angry sound that startled Chloé. 

“What’s with you, Dupain-Cheng! Don’t you see I’m opening my heart to you!?”

“Shut up, I’m trying to do something productive.” She snapped at the blonde. 

“Why, I…”

“Silence. Your tale was entirely unhelpful. Let me focus.” 

Gotham. What was in Gotham that could help her? The most corrupt city, famous for its high crime rate, mad villains, and eternal gloominess. Even now she could feel some of it resonate in the air. As if the whole city was one big Akuma. Probably no help from the establishment… The police were more likely to put a bag on her head and deliver her to one of the crime families… 

“What in Gotham can help…” She voiced her musing loudly, causing Chloé to peak up.

“Waynes!” She proclaimed. “That serial adopter would jump at the chance to get another orphan…”

“Adrien isn’t an orphan… Yet.” Marinette grumbled. “But he will be married by then, so I would need to plan a double homicide… Meh. No great loss.” She said without a shadow of care. It was like the thoughts about the murder were completely normal for her. 

Chloé shivered. “Remind me not to get into your way when you’re in that mood.”

In the distance, the orchestra was starting to play, signaling the guests that the ceremony would start soon.

“Ugh! Hawkmoth it!” Marinette raged as she ran to the clearing. She no longer had the time and if she was the only one missing, Lila would make her prime suspect for anything that happened. Blast it. She would get one more chance. Screw the career. She could survive living somewhere in Argentina if it all went to hell. 

-------

Adrien already accepted his fate. His father and Lila made sure that all avenues of further rebellion were closed. He exhausted everything there was. 

To this day, he was grateful for that burner phone from Marinette. He made sure to hide it but always have it somewhere nearby. It became a form of a lifeline for him. A one-off save-your-life ticket. It would only work in short term, but at the rate everything was going, it could potentially save his life…

He missed his life before the mess with The Wedding started. 

Hell! He even missed Plagg’s stinking cheese. He would maim for some camembert.

“Adrien,” Gerard spoke solemnly. There was no need for more words. They both knew what was about to happen and Adrien took just a bit of solace in the fact that he was not entirely alone, even if no one could help him. 

“I’m ready.” He spoke, barely above a whisper.

Before he realized it, the ceremony was undergoing. Lila, in her stunning dress, held the attention on herself like a pro. No one even thought about looking anywhere but at them. The dress was similarly just so… Lila. It made all of her features all the more proponent. Yet, there was just a small, barely noticeable, stitch that said Marinette. A smile ghosted his face. There was some good out of this. He managed to make his friend famous. After today, no one would deny her style. 

“Should anyone present know of any reason that this couple should not be joined in holy matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace.” The marriage officiant spoke. Adrien didn’t even care what convention the wedding was in. 

The silence swept across the garden. 

No one dared to even breathe loudly.

Adrien lowered his head. Here, the last…

There was a rustle somewhere close to the front. He looked up, a small glimmer of hope appeared in his eyes. 

Marinette was standing there, her backs straightened and one finger held up. “I…”

She felt the gaze of hundreds of guests on her. They were the most influential people in the world of modern business. Waynes. Luthor. Queen. Burgeiose. Agreste… And they all kept staring at her. 

She tried to swipe the hall with a glance, but something attracted her attention. A glint of light somewhere in the distance.

“Watch out!” She shouted, tossing a chair she was sitting on just a moment ago. 

The metal item sailed through the air until it crashed in the middle of the alley.

With an arrow sticking out of it.

For a second (which felt much longer) everyone stared at it.

Then the mass panic started. People got out of their chairs and started trying to get out of there. They trampled one another as each considered themselves to be the most important, hence first to evacuate. It was chaos.

Among the mass of people, Marinette tried her best to make it to the altar. She saw that Gerard and several other hired bodyguards were of similar minds. 

She managed to squeeze through the crowd the fastest, only to find Lila knocked out and Adrien and the Officiant missing. Adrien’s cousin (best man) and Alya (bridesmaid) were both nowhere to be found. They probably ran away. There was still no trace of the Groom. That is until she saw a giant mass of brown mud dragging the boy away. 

The sad thing? Adrien wasn’t really protesting much. 

Gerard was the next to make it through. He noticed Adrien a tad quicker and tried to chase whoever it was that tried to kidnap Adrien, but a fist made of mud slammed into him, sending him flying away. 

“Holy Hawkmoth!” Marinette cursed once more. Okay, so far, it was only a curse for her, but he deserved it. 

In the distance, police sirens could’ve been heard, but with how fast the mud was escaping, Adrien would be long gone before the police arrived. Marinette had to do something.

Wait… Why am I trying to stop the kidnapping I ordered? She suddenly questioned herself, freezing in place. 

Two guards rushed past her and started firing at the mass, but the bullets seemed to be about as effective as Parisian police when dealing with Akuma. 

The last Marinette saw of Adrien he was being taken into the sewers.

-----------

After the police arrived, Marinette was of course first to be interrogated. (“Gee… Thanks, Lila”). They wanted to know how she noticed the arrow, did she see the attacker, how did the kidnapper looked like, and dozens of other questions. By the end, she was exhausted. Somewhere after the sixth question, her phone pinged. Luckily, the police didn’t bother with checking it and believed that it was just a worried friend. 

Not the kidnapper trying to contact their employer.

Finally, after the police released her and informed her that no further information was needed, she could contact her Maman.

“Sweety? Are you okay? I’ve seen the news!” Was the first thing that came through

“Yeah. Don’t worry. I’m perfectly fine. The police held me back for questioning a bit. I’m going back to the hotel and be back in Paris first flight tomorrow, okay?”

“Stay in Gotham! I’m coming to pick you up!” Her mother informed her.

“Wha-!? But there is no need! Seriously Maman! There’s no need to trouble yourself.”

There was a silence on the line for a moment and Marinette could feel that her mother was trying to glare at her through the phone. It worked. 

“Fine… I’m at Wayne Plaza, room 30-14.” She relented, not wanting any more arguments. She would still have several hours to sort the mess with Adrien. What could possibly go wrong?

Trying her best to be careful, Marinette left the site of crime and traveled to the industrial district. The taxi driver couldn’t be bothered less about why she wanted to go there. He just wanted to get paid and leave. 

The only-slightly-creepy aura of the completely silent area full of factories and warehouses served as a perfect background to contacting the kidnapper. Marinette, after making sure she was truly alone, activated the voice-scrambling app on her burner and dialed the number that sent her the text about successful work. Her Maman showed her that, thinking she wanted it for a prank. Or that’s how Marinette presented it anyway.

“Who is this?!” A voice on the other side of the call asked.

Marinette took a deep breath before answering. “I was led to believe you have what I wanted.” She tried her best to channel Chloé into her voice. 

“Ah… Yes… There’s been a… complication.”

“What do you mean ‘complication’?” She hissed into the phone call. 

“Um… I had the package… But then someone stole the stolen package…” Whoever that was informed her. 

“Who?” She demanded. 

“Last I checked, Lawton was the one who had ‘im… But it might’ve changed. But don’t worry, Boss… lady?” They asked. Marinette didn’t give either confirmation or scolding, so they continued. “I’m still in the game.” With that, they hang up. 

“What did I just get myself into…” She moaned. Then, the realization hit her. “What did I just get Adrien into…”

Elsewhere, Adrien was starring into a pair of curious sea-green eyes. 

----------------

#maribat #miraculous #miraculous ladybug #batman #dc #DC comics #MLB #mlb x dc #BAMF Marinette #villain marinette #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste

[low-budget-korra]

Lets talk about Korra (again)

i already made this analysis, and it was well received but i dont know, i wanna do it again. Why not right? My english is better now than was when i made that analysis so i think  this one will be better written

What a way to introduce a protagonist. This line and this scene tell us everything we need to know about Korra at that time and everything she knew about herself.

In book one Korra is a 17′s old teenager who have no idea how the world, how life is outside the training center she grew up in and had been locked up since ever. So she is not only naive but have lack of social skills

Oh, and not everyone who lack’s social skills will act like Zuko and Azula okay? Korra can be confident, expressive and outgoing and still have problems when it comes to social skills.One thing dont exclude the other.

“I’m the Avatar and you gotta deal with it” did you guys notice that only for that line we can see the entire opposite on how she treat her role as avatar in comparisson with Aang? And im not here to judge because is two very different contexts.

As far as we know, Korra grew up without friends or romantic partners. Of course, she had her training partners but i believe that they are just that. 

So her entarely perception of herself was around her duty as Avatar, she didnt have personal life, she barely was Korra...She was The avatar and thats that.

So she came to Republic City, it was a mess. 

Its funny to see that she have no touch when it comes to simply talk to people, i guess when you grew up away from society, this happens. And yes, she is cocky and had to learn that people arent there to somewhat please her, and she learned that quicky. 

Thats why the Pro Bending was important for her character, not only for training but also as means of socilization.

Now lets talk about the villains: Amon and Tarrlok

The two of them represents two differents threats to Korra. Amon represents a threat to her duty as Avatar while Tarrlok represents a threat to Korra as a person.

In episode 4 we have what i still thinks is the darker episode from TLOK. In this episode Amon ambushes Korra in the final moments... Even knowing that they did their best to make Amon’s power and control be non-sexualized as possible still...He have her down on her knews, totally helpless and he even invades Korra’s personal space by touching in her face forcing her to look at him. He didn't have to sexually touch her to violate her.

And right after, the fear in Tenzin voice when asking what happened after seeing her laying in the ground like that, and how Korra is sobing in his arms teeling him how powerless and helpless she felt. I mean...Oh, and she keeps terryfied by him until he takes her bending.

Tarrlok in the  other hand doesnt do much different from his brother and started to harass Korra because he cant take ‘no’ as a answer when Korra didnt wanted to join his task force.

Whats interesting is that if it wasnt for Tarrlok harassement and maniputation, Korra wouldnt have joined his task force and wouldnt have confronted Amon and wouldn't have gone through that terrible encounter.

The thing is that Korra is caught right in the middle of a politcal power dispute over the city, something that she for sure wasnt prepare for it. And both Amon and Tarrlok woud hurt or kill her without think twice about it if that means gain  power. And that was exacly what happened

Tarrlok tried to manipulate her and keep her on leash where he could, and when his tatics didnt worked anymore he alreay had a plan B. Yes that whole metal box in that cabin in the middle of nowhere was made especifically for her and maybe Tenzin if he also get in his way.

In the end Korra lost the physical battle against both but won the ethical battle also against both. She was the responsable for expose both of them as corrupted and hypocrites. But at what price? Amon was able to remove the bends of the Avatar. And without them, how could she be the Avatar?

Remember that her entirely conception of herself was built around her duty as Avatar, be the avatar. After all, everything she was, everything she'd trained so hard for, had been destroyed in minutes. Thats why i still strongly believe that she was thinking about killing herself at the end, nobodys goes all sad and crying to in front of a clifft without thinking about jumping from it. 

But she, i think given up the idea and just sit and started to crying when Aang appeared and help her, giving her bendings back in one of the best scenes of the show. So after have everything solve and still managed to get the boy she was in love with, things where great and she “move on”

In that first half, Korra is unbearable. Everything she learned in Book 1 how to be more mature, less spoiled and all, was thrown in the trash and she was the same "child" of the book one only worse.

Until I stopped and realized that I was also unbearable and childish like this when I had my bad phases of anxiety and depression, as defense mechanism and keep people away. Returning to Korra, and if this way of acting of her was nothing more than this defense mechanism?

Because guess what, i dont think she “move on” from all that happened in Book One that fast, and for add more drama she discovered that was her father idea of keeping her locked up training in that training center we saw in book one and not traveling like avatars before her. No wonder she felt betrayed. And for adding even more drama, people still keep treating her like child, so she was despered for some validation. Something that she found in her uncles arms but she was betrayed by him after.

In the end, Korra again goes through a traumatic experience when she has her connection with past lives destroyed. We see how it affected her when she apologizes to Tenzin, through tears. And Tenzin, as the excellent master he is, tries to motivate her to face Vaatu again (now merged with Unalaq, her uncle) and again she saves the day even after go throught a traumatic event

In the final moments, we see the innocent decision to reconnect the world of spirits and the world of men. And we also see Korra and Mako permanently end their turbulent relationship.

Book 3 begins in a more mature, we see all the characters being presented in a more mature way and it seems that Korra now has overcome everything that has passed. We have the relationship between Korra and Asami deepening as well

In Book 3, called "Change" we have a great sacrifice from Korra. Her life goes down a notch when she decides to save the new airbenders from Zaheer and the Red Lotus, the only villain until now that really threat her life since their sole goal was to kill the avatar.

Korra won again but this time victory costed way too much. Yes she save the day again but now she was  physically and psychologically defeated. It was too much, she broke.

Book 4 begins and we only saw Korra in the final minutes and she is unrecognizable. We see that, once proud and courageous avatar, in someone depressed and cowerd. We never have saw Korra like that, even when she was afraid of Amon she wasnt like that.

Korra is afraid of being the Avatar again and her fight against PTSD is still one of the most sensitive, responsable and honest representation of Mentall Issues that i saw, and it was before this subject gain more space on media. It was before people started to give attention to this

I also think that she was having flashs from her other fights and not only the one against Zaheer.

Another thing I think is worth mention is that Korra took 3 years to feel safer and re-embrace her duties as Avatar. It was not 3 weeks or 3 months, it was 3 years. And anyone who suffers from some mental illness knows very well the stigma that is, the fight that is, because everyone wants you to be well faster as possible  when the truth is that many times you spend years fighting against this.  And this is a pressure that falls on you.Imagine, seeing all your friends moving forward while you continue "stock in the same place"?

Only after Korra confronts Zaheer, I think that was a way to show her coping with the trauma, she improves to the point of returning to be the great Avatar we know. I personally still struggles with this scene because put the victim in front of her agressor may not be the best idea but i understand that she needed to see that he was just a man and not the invencible monster her mind was telling her

One of the lines that stuck with me the most was in the TLOK version of the ember island players, the one that made a recap of the show before the finale. When Korra said “I was so naive” just before we watch her narration of her journey, we can feel pain, sadness and strenght. Janet was amazing in the way the delivered this line.

And this fucking quote i saw here on tumblr still is the goat: “The Last Airbender is a story of a boy who becomes a god. The Legend of Korra is the story of a goddess who becomes a girl "

And I still get really pissed when someone comes to talk shit about  Korra because she is such an incredible heroine and her journey is also so incredible.

The story of how life can be hard and unfair, how it can hurt and paralyze, but there is always a reason to move on. We should always move on.

Korra is definitely not weak, quite the opposite, she is one of the if not the strongest heroine I have ever seen. Korra inspires overcoming 

#korrasami #avatar korra #asami sato #mako #tenzin #bolin #lin beifong #su beifong #kuvira #zaheer #amon #unalaq #tarrlok #the legendd of korra #legend of korra #tlok #lets talk about #avatar

[thechangeling]

Tell me a story

Ty doesn't believe in fate.

A shout out to @ilikebooks8 for convincing me to make a fanfic about autistic!Eleanor Blackthorn. Autism is genetic so it makes sense for Ty to have autistic ancestors. If you are autistic I guarentee you have someone in your family who is also autistic they just haven't been diagnosed yet. For me, I've got my dad.

Cw: mentions of ableism, abuse and the death of a minor character. Very anti Andrew Blackthorn.

"Tell me a story," Tiberius' asked, in that mature, matter- of-fact way he spoke. Ty was only eight but already he sounded like a boy twice his age in terms of his vocabulary and the way he spoke.

Although he still had the voice of a child which was rather amusing. Eleanor turned to face her son with a groan as she felt searing pain shoot through her bones. She had been laying down all day due to feeling extremely unwell. The noises and lights of the outside world were especially brutal, but she had gotten used to it overtime. She had learned to cope. To smile and nod and make eye contact. To control her movements and still her hands and laugh at their jokes.

Eleanor played the part of the proper shadowhunter and the dutiful wife, the attentive mother. It didn't matter that it had changed her. Had completely turned her into a different person, someone harsher and colder. Someone who was so quick to anger and venomous hatred.

Someone who only knew how to be in pain.

She always tried to not let that side of her show to her children. They didn't deserve it. But the past few weeks in particular had been brutal. Her body felt broken and it was becoming harder and harder to put up that facade.

She faced Ty with the best fake smile she could muster. "Which story would you like to hear?" He climbed up on the bed beside her and sat down in an odd twisted position where his legs were in a W position. He began tapping his hands on his knees as he appeared to contemplate his choices.

Eleanor could remember a time when she was younger when she used to do that. Before her parents had stopped her. She knew she should really tell Tiberius off to discourage him from doing these things in public. He was so blatent and open in a way that frightened and almost angered her. There was no telling what kind of reaction The Clave might have.

She didnt want him to end up with the dregs, or worse.

"I don't know," Ty said finally scrunching up his eyebrows. "I can't think of one right now. Could you make one up?" Eleanor smiled in spite of herself. She had always loved making up stories ever since she was a kid. She had always been a creative person, painting and drawing as often as she could. Shadowhunters didn't really appreciate a creative streak.

Eleanor nodded. "Ok sure, let's see." She took a breath, trying to ignore the agony spreading through her back and shoulders. "Once upon a time there was a prince who was trapped in a tower that was guarded by an evil ogar. The prince had been rumored to have special powers so he was forced by his parents to stay locked away in the tower forever to keep him safe. He wasnt allowed to make friends with any other children so he grew up alone. Teaching himself how to read and write and playing games to amuse himself."

Ty rolled his eyes. "Isn't that rather cliche? The whole prince trapped in a tower story? I've definitely heard that before."

Eleanor laughed. "Where did you hear the word cliche Tiberius?" Ty shrugged, not seeing the amusement in the situation.

"It was in a book. Can you keep going?" He whined impatiently. "I wanna hear the rest."

Eleanor sighed, shaking her head good naturedly. "Alright then. So the prince was trapped for a very long time. Then one day a mysterious adventurer came exploring nearby the tower."

"Can it be a detective?" Ty interrupted, bouncing up and down. He had been obsessed with Clue lately.

"Alright sure, it was a detective. He was searching the answers to a murder mystery. The murder of a young women."  Ty instantly looked interested. Perhaps murder was not the best subject for a story being told to an eight year old, but Ty was a shadowhunter. They were trained to deal with blood and death.

"His was searching for information and came across the tower," she continued. So he decided to investigate. He snuck passed the ogar and into the tower, where he was ambushed by the prince!"

Ty gasped excitedly, wriggling in place. "What happened next? Did they fight?"

Eleanor opened her mouth to continue, but then the bedroom door flew open, startling them both.

It was Andrew. Instantly Ty shrunk himself down, hunching his shoulders. Eleanor knew that Ty didn't always get along with his father but she knew Andrew still loved him deep down. He glared at them both.

"Ty your mother is meant to be resting," he said pointedly.

Eleanor shook her head. "Oh no it's alright. He wasn't bothering me." Andrew didn't seem to hear her.

"Tiberius let's go," he said harshly. Ty hesitated for a moment, looking up at her.

"But I wanna hear the rest of the story!" He protested. "I wanna know what happens to the prince!" Eleanor sighed solemnly. She didn't want to disappoint Ty, but she was feeling pretty worn out.

"Another time baby," she assured him. "I promise."

But unfortunately she never got the chance. She never got the chance because little did they know, Eleanor Blackthorn had cancer. Something that silent brothers couldn't cure. Something that shadowhunters were powerless against.

"What are you thinking about ?" Kit murmered from his spot curled up against Ty's chest. His breath tickled Ty's chin.

Ty paused, not quite sure how to answer. They were lying on the roof of the LA institute again. It was their special spot. Kit had suggested a night of star gazing for a date since the weather was nice.

Things has been a little weird between them lately. Kit had been pretending that everything was fine and he was unfazed, but Ty could tell that something was bothering him. And he had a feeling he knew what it was.

At Magnus and Alec's anniversary party, Jace made a joke about how Kit and Ty would probably be the next ones to get married and Ty immediately went into a blind panic. He completely froze up at the mention of marriage. At the mention of him getting married. His body instantly went into a complete overload almost as if he was on the verge of a meltdown.

He didn't take the time to think about any of it. He just snapped and yelled that he wasn't getting married. That he wasn't ever getting married. Ty wasnt even sure where it came from. Kit was pretending like it wasnt a big deal but Ty knew he was hurting. He could tell.

Ty traced a pattern across Kit's arm. "Honestly it was nothing," he assured him. "I just-." Ty stared at Kit, studying his face. The curve of his lips, the adorable blush of his cheeks and the tiny beauty mark under his eye that Ty loved to fixate on. Everything ached, but it was a good kind of ache.

Ty loved him.

"I just want to stay like this forever," he murmered. "Here with you, where I feel safe and warm. And loved." Ty nuzzled his nose against Kit's. "I want to be with you forever."

Kit smiled distantly before breaking into a slight frown. "Then why don't you wanna marry me?" He asked sadly. And Ty could instantly hear the old ghosts of self loathing and insecurity still haunting Kit's thoughts.

Ty sighed. "It has nothing to do with you I promise. I just really don't want to get married and I'm not even fully certain of why exactly."

Kit stroked his cheek slowly. "Is it the idea of a big wedding? Because we don't have to do that you know. We can totally just skip it," he said assuredly.

Ty shook his head. "That's part of it but it isn't the only reason." He paused to contemplate what exactly it was that was making him feel this way, feel so afraid.

Strangely enough, Ty kept coming back to his mother. His mother who was always a little peculiar in private. Who always seemed sad and exhausted even before the silent brothers diagnosed her. Who was constantly going along with whatever her husband wanted for whatever reason. Because she assumed he knew what he was doing? Because she didn't want to make waves in a society so rigid and obsessed with conformity?

Ty had been considering it more and more lately.

He sat up, displacing Kit from where he was resting. "I think my mother was like me," Ty admitted in a shakey voice. "I think she was autistic and that's why she ended up in the situations she did."

"Ok?" Kit looked confused. "But that still doesn't explain-."

Ty interrupted him. "She was trying so hard to fit in and do the right thing and she would just let him control her. She kept compromising for him because she thought that's what she was supposed to do and also because despite it all I think she really loved him! And it made her so stupid!" Ty shouted.

"I just don't want to become trapped like that," he confessed.

Kit was silent for a moment, just staring at him with a puzzled expression. "Ok, but Ty you realize that I'm not your dad right? Like I would never try and control you or make you into something you're not. I'm not trying to own you, I'm trying to love you!" He argued. "Ty, marriage isnt supposed to trap you. It's about making our relationship into an Offical legal thing that everyone's forced to acknowledge and accept."

Kit took Ty's hand in his. "It's about making each other family."

Ty looked away. He couldn't meet Kit's eyes when he was staring at him looking so hopeful and desperate. It did strange things to Ty's insides. He squeezed his eyes shut, scrunching up his face along with his fists for a moment before letting go.

"I just don't want to let someone have power over me in that way," he explained. Kit sighed, then smiled softly before leaning forward to rest his forehead against Ty's. Ty let out a little moan as he let the tension release from his body with a sigh. Kit placed his hand over Ty's heart.

"But don't you get it Ty?" He asked softly. "You already have, whether you meant to or not. I'm in your system sweetheart, in your blood just like you're in mine." Ty felt him smile. "Like we were made for each other. Like we've spent our entire lives waiting for each other."

Ty pulled away from him. "No I don't believe that," he stated firmly. "I don't believe in fate or destiny or soulmates. I think it's an overt  romanticization of life and the human condition which can have disastrous consequences. It leads people to believe that they are somehow incomplete without a romantic partner which is incredibly problematic." Ty realized he was probably going on a bit of a tangent as he was known to do. But he couldn't be bothered to care.

Kit pouted a little. "Yeah I get that. But I don't know. I like to romanticize things in life. After everything that I've been through, I guess it just makes things feel better you know?" Kit glanced at him hopefully."I don't care if you don't believe in any of those things. I do. And despite what you might believe, you aren't always right about everything," Kit said pointedly.

Ty scowled at him. Kit was undeterred. "And I get that you're coming at this from a scary trauma place. I understand that. I have those too. But you don't have to be afraid of me," he pleaded.

Ty couldn't resist reaching out and touching him, pushing a curly lock of hair behind his ear. "Can I maybe think about it?" Kit smiled and snuggled up against Ty's chest again. "Of course," he murmered. Ty leaned back and resumed his earlier position, staring up at the sky.

He nuzzled his face against Kit's hair. "I'm glad you're not mad at me anymore," said Ty.

Kit snorted, turning to face Ty. "I'm never mad at you love. It's pretty much impossible." Ty grinned and leaned forward to kiss him slowly, savoring the feeling of Kit's lips against his.

Kit broke off and kissed Ty's cheek, then his orbital bone. Ty giggled and closed his eyes which prompted Kit to place a kiss on each of his eyelids.

"I love every inch of you," Kit whispered. Ty couldn't speak. He was too overwhelmed. He just wrapped his arms around Kit even tighter and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

They lay in peaceful silence for several moments before Kit spoke.

"Tell me a story."

In case you missed it, the story Eleanor was telling Ty is the story of kitty in Lady Midnight basically. Also. Not me projecting my fear of marriage onto my comfort character! 😂

Tag list: (lmk if you wanna be added/removed) @playwithravenclaw @lavender-scented-rat @knifescythe @ti-bae-rius @dianasarrow @jazzkaurtheglorious @waterlillies @zfoxdraws @julieandthefandoms @older-brother-kit @ilikebooks8 @nott-the-best @stxr-thxif @magnus-the-fabulous-entp-bane @foxglove-airmid @littlx-songbxrd @heloisacosta23 @adoravel-fenomeno @eutonyinwhisper

#tsc #tda #the dark artifices #kit x ty #twp #cw mentions of ableism #cw mentions of abuse #cw minor character death #tiberius nero blackthorn #kit herondale #eleanor blackthorn