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#'crossing swords' or something like that? can't remember
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Isaac: Go fuck yourself.
Lance, smugly: Sure, but only if you watch.
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noahsresources · 2 months
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IN CHARACTER CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT QUESTIONS .
send an emoji/series of emojis for my muse to answer any of the following questions in character! for some questions, there are fields italicized and bolded for you to fill in with the name of a person/place/event/etc in the muse's life. please remember to fill in these spaces in order for the question to make sense! each emoji is described in case you can't see them, and they are listed alphabetically. ♡
✈️ AIRPLANE — have you traveled anywhere that helped you discover something about yourself and/or about the world?
😠 ANGRY FACE — how easy or difficult is it for you to express your emotions? if you find it difficult, what do you think is holding you back?
🎨 ARTIST PALETTE — what are some hobbies that you like to partake in? do you think they're just to pass time or to distract yourself, or do you believe some of them potentially have therapeutic outcomes for you?
🎈 BALLOON — what is something you've created and/or accomplished recently that you're proud of?
🖤 BLACK HEART — what would you say is the darkest thought you've ever experienced? what do you think caused you to have that thought? have you ever planned on or fantasized about acting on it?
🏹 BOW AND ARROW — if there's something from your past that you'd give anything to go back in time and redo, what is it?
💔 BROKEN HEART — is there anyone in your life you wish you had a better relationship with? if so, how come? what makes this person important to you?
🎄 CHRISTMAS TREE — what is your favorite holiday and why?
🌙 CRESCENT MOON — what would you say is your current biggest dream and/or career aspiration and why?
❌ CROSS MARK — how would your life be different if [name of person] had never been in it? would it be better or worse?
⚔️ CROSSED SWORDS — do you have any skills that you are absolutely grateful you have and that mean a lot to you? how do you usually use these skills? would they come in handy if someone you cared about was in trouble?
🔮 CRYSTAL BALL — what is a core memory from your childhood that you think defines you today?
🗡️ DAGGER — what is something or someone you know you can't afford to lose? how far are you willing to go to make sure you don't lose it/them?
💧 DROPLET — are you grieving something or someone? do you feel like you lost something or a part of yourself with it/them?
😶‍🌫️ FACE IN CLOUDS — is there something you're hiding from the people you love? if so, how urgent is it for them to hear it? what's holding you back from sharing it?
🍂 FALLEN LEAVES — how would you metaphorically describe your life and the journey(s) you've been on?
👻 GHOST — is there someone or something that you feel is missing from your life? do you know if there's any way to find it/them?
🩶 GRAY HEART — what kind of friend do your friends consider you to be (mom friend, uncle friend, funny friend, etc) and why? what do you think this says about your personality?
🤝 HANDSHAKE — do family or platonic relationships mean more to you? or do they mean different things to you?
❤️‍🔥 HEART ON FIRE — what angers you the most? what triggers this anger, and how do you cope with it? what does this anger feel like, if you had to describe it?
💋 KISS MARK — if you had to share a romantic kiss with a loved one, where would you share that kiss and why? are you thinking about giving this romantic kiss somewhere other than the other person's lips?
✝️ LATIN CROSS — are you a religious person? did you grow up religious? does your faith mean anything to you today?
🩵 LIGHT BLUE HEART — what do you fantasize about the most often (generally/sexually/etc)? are there any people that are significant to or that you can see in this fantasy and why?
⚡️ LIGHTNING BOLT — how has [significant event in muse's life] impacted you? what has it made you realize about yourself? about others? about the world?
💄 LIPSTICK — have you had any romantic or sexual experiences that made you realize something about yourself?
🪄 MAGIC WAND — would you describe yourself as a superstitious person (someone who believes in superstitions)? do you believe in luck?
❤️‍🩹 MENDING HEART — how strongly do you experience your emotions? does it depend on who you're interacting with and/or the context of the situation?
🎶 MUSICAL NOTES — what song lyrics do you think most accurately describe you? your journey through life? who you are as a person?
🫂 PEOPLE HUGGING — generally speaking, do you feel very supported by the people in your life? how strong and cohesive is your support system, if you have one? do you often feel like you're at the front of the line or pushed to the side by the people in your life?
❤️ RED HEART — what is/are your love language(s)? how do you use it/them to communicate your feelings about others?
💞 REVOLVING HEARTS — who and/or what are you most grateful for in your life?
🎀 RIBBON BOW — how confident are you with your physical appearance? is there anything about it that you are insecure about? is there anything about it that you are happy about or gives you confidence? how do you think people perceive you based on your physical appearance?
🧪 TEST TUBE — if you knew you were going to die tomorrow, what is one thing you absolutely have to resolve and/or do before then?
🤔 THINKING FACE — what three emotions tend to dominate your mindset? do you know why they do?
💭 THOUGHT BALLOON — is there something or someone you find yourself thinking about more often than other things? if so, why do you think you do this?
💀 SKULL — how has [name of person] 's death influenced your outlook on life, if anything?
☀️ SUN — would you describe yourself as more of an introvert or extrovert, or are you somewhere in between? how come?
🪽 WING — if you could choose to have one superpower for a day, what would it be and why? what would you do with it?
✍️ WRITING HAND — what is one thing you wish you were better at? this can be a tactical skill, social skill, hobby, etc.
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rosemaze-reveries · 10 days
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During an interview, the manor guests suddenly get a question about you. (Part 2)
hello hello! here is part 2 as promised. there are less characters than I hoped to write, but in exchange each blurb is a little longer than pt.1 !
part 1 can be found here
🦌🪼🤡🦎🪞🤕🕯️🎭
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Q. Could you describe your relationship with (Y/N)?
🦌 Bane rubs his chin, tracing his memory. "Hm... Indeed, I'm familiar with that name. I'd suppose that's someone I knew when I worked for the DeRosses." He crosses his arms with a low, contemplative grunt, as if struggling to remember anything else. "I'd need a photograph." I happen to have a couple on hand, and he takes them gently. A long period of silence follows. After leafing through the photos for some time, he says: "I remember. They were always talking about marriage." With you? "Mm. I was never interested, but I never said no. Eventually I made them a ring from a scrap of iron. I hoped they'd stop visiting me if I satisfied them... It's too dangerous to come to the forest everyday." Then he reaches into his pocket, pulling out a ring of his own. "In exchange, they gave one back." He's been cherishing it all this time, even when he'd forgotten its origin.
🪼 Ivy - "I'm no stranger to feeling like I'm missing my other half, you know. That sense of loss is one of the only constants I have left. (Y/N) fills my emptiness, and without them it increases twofold." I open my mouth to ask, Do you think you could be soulmates? but then my eyes dart to the Yithian and I realize my mistake. Sorry, was that insensitive? Ivy is not amused with my implication that she might be interested in claiming (Y/N)'s soul. "My dear interviewer, I am a scholar, not a monster. Whatever you're insinuating, you're gravely mistaken."
🤡 Joker's face suddenly hardens, in spite of the fragile, twiddling-thumbs demeanor he'd shown me thus far. His hands ball into shaking fists and his lips purse, as if he's psyching himself up for a fight. Are you okay? I ask, preemptively guarding myself with my clipboard. Tears brim his eyes and the strength falls from his shoulders. He mutters out, "All I wanted was to be their sword and shield, their angel of light, and they left me out of my mind. Hahaha... Wanna know the biggest joke of all? I'd let them drive me crazy all over again."
🦎 Luchino's mouth stretches into a lazy grin. "That one's a cutie, eh? Had the pleasure of meeting them yet?" I shake my head, reminding him that (Y/N) is the focus of my current investigation. I guess his laidback attitude fooled me into saying too much. He promptly straightens his back, the smile fading. "Yeah... Yeah, from one researcher to another, I get the intrigue," he says. "But I can't say I fancy another guy using my love as a test subject."
🪞 Mary - "Do you take pleasure in nosing around a lady's private affairs? I'd expect more tact, even for an interviewer." The chill in her tone startles me. I sputter out something in my defense, but Mary huffs and waves me into silence. "(Y/N) is enjoying the privilege of being my right-hand. They're my favorite one so far, too. I dismissed the others without a second thought."
🤕 Naib - "On good terms." Wringing out any insightful answers from this man is tougher than I thought. In hopes of inspiring more of a reaction, I tell a small lie: When I interviewed (Y/N), they described a rather colorful affection for you... Almost immediately, Naib breaks eye contact and crosses his arms. But I still only get a guttural "Hm." in response. Can you confirm if this is true? I press. His answer is, once again, a curt "Hm." (Slightly more affirmative, I would say).
🕯️ Philippe - "My work has always stood as a testament to my love," he caresses the wax figure grafted onto his shoulder, "but shielding someone in life is a far greater challenge than honoring my losses. My worries are endless." Suddenly reminded of his sister's tragedy, I offer a sympathetic smile. Do you believe (Y/N) is in danger? Philippe returns my smile, though I can't make out the intent. "Of course. Evil lurks around every corner. At the very least, it won't reach them while I'm around."
🎭 Sangria - A fond smile graces her face as she recounts her memory. "It was clear to me after some time that I had disastrously entranced them." Then she adds, lightly, "I hadn't meant to, of course. At the time, I thought, I'm not looking for love—no, I'd had enough of it all—but soon, their smile would appear in my mind every time I sang. When someone gives you that much inspiration? You'd be a fool to let them go." She has a playful tone of voice, but I can tell (Y/N) means a great deal to her.
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bitterchocoo · 5 months
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Alice in Wonderland
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"Once upon a time...."
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The first Alice walked through the land of Teyvat. Bravely with a sword in her hand, she sliced everything and anything that dared crossed her, leaving chaos in her red bloody path. She was feared and respected by all.
The people will remember her wrath, her cruel smile, her self-centered attitude, and most importantly the sword on her hand.
Who could ever forget someone like that? Someone who sparks fear on others? The very mention of her name brought the high and mighty shaking on their knees. Everyone would always try their absolute best to stay on her good side or else... her sword would be the last thing you'll see. They would praise her, give her offerings and gifts, the lengths of what they would do to stay on her good side...
Through her might and unyielding wrath, she traveled far through her journey. But soon... her wrong doings came right back at her..
She stray too far and lost her way. Giving in to all her sins. Much like the gruesome path that she forged with her hands. Still....
Her life remains a mystery till this very day.
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The second Alice was a tame and tender gentleman.
He helped those in need, he never lost his temper, he never talked bad about others, he's incredibly patient; a kind soul.
Such an enormous contrast with the first Alice.
The people would remember his kindness, his merciful acts, his pacifist route. In return for his deeds they would give him something in return despite how the man seemed uncertain of the gifts, claiming that "there's no need for such things."
What a kind soul... he can't even take a gift without feeling conflicted and guilty...
But of course.... you can't be kind to all.... sometimes kindness and mercy isn't the option...
Madness took ahold of him, shoot him dead to the ground. Blood stained the roses to a bright and somber red. Once loved and enjoyed by all, the man was left for dead
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The third Alice was a lovely girl.
Beautiful, the girl was born into a life so grand. She charmed all the people to her beck and call. How could they resist such a charming young lady? Her smile is as bright as the sun, and her beauty rivals those of a goddess.
Through her charms she created a kingdom, an empire that would rise above them all! This Alice was then crowned turned into a Queen. Ruling all the people there... she lost herself in a crazy dream..
Previously a carefree girl, suddenly has the weight of a whole kingdom on her shoulders.. she must have gone insane by the sudden shift in power and responsibilities. Suddenly she's been made all aware of the things that didn't crossed her mind since the beginning. So afraid of death, the girl was mindless and warped.
The people would remember her beauty and charm.
Once a gorgeous ruler, now she's just an ugly corpse.
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"So... what do you think?"
"...."
"What's with the silence, Alice?"
The man studied the other's expression before letting out a chuckle as he understood what he's thinking at that very moment. It was rather obvious. "Maybe I should start the next one~?"
"The fourth Alice was a pair of siblings who are twins. Straying into Teyvat—" "Shut up."
The man stopped as he glanced back at the man who stopped him with his story. "Oh? You don't want your story to be told? Your name echoes in their tales and songs?"
"You're telling a story of the past... this is not the past.. I—we—"
"Oh ho ho! Don't get ahead of yourself there, Alice~ You've fallen into this wonderland called Teyvat for how long now? 500 years? And now you're saying that? Don't make me laugh!"
"You two are staying here."
"Until we the Heavenly Principle say so."
"Until I say so."
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M. Reader as the Creator
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"Now... how will your story end, Alice~?"
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freminet-writings · 5 months
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if we don't get a canon magician freminet moment I'm gonna die, imagine if he gets a skin with a lil outfit matching the twins 🥺
// smut, amab reader, i took inspiration from something i read but I can't remember what it was ahh 😭😭
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"s-so, I've been practicing this, uh, thing...where you put a entire sword down your throat" freminet explained meekly, his face was already red and he hadn't gotten to his point
"what am i supposed to help with? should i...make sure you don't, i don't know, die?" you joked with him, although the trick did seem pretty dangerous
"n-no, that's not it...i just, i have...a pretty bad gag reflex, I can't even keep the...t-tip in" freminet couldn't have turned redder with how dirty his words already sounded "i just...can i...would you...um"
you crossed your arms as you waited for him to continue
"the thing is...ah, would you use your dick to help me with my gag reflex please!" this was the fastest you've ever heard him speak, he was so embarrassed and looked like he wanted to run away "I'm sorry! i-i shouldn't have said that-!"
"yeah, sure" surely there were better ways to get rid of a gag reflex, but who would say no to freminet? "I'll do it if you really want that" freminet nodded eagerly and immediately went to his knees excitedly
"somebody's eager, aren't they?" your hand went to his head, knocking his hat off to stroke through his hair, his blue eyes staring up at you, he would look innocent if you didnt know the context
"m-maybe...is that...weird?" he bit his lip and moved forward, unzipping your pants slowly "um, could you...keep my head down? even if i struggle...i think that would be helpful" he got you out of your restraints, gulping as he stared at your cock
"are you sure? i wouldn't want to hurt you or anything- ah..." he already took you in his mouth, you could feel his breathing grow heavier around you, he took your hand and placed it on the back of his head
he tried to relax his throat as he pushed your cock deeper, his eyes closing as you grunted above him, he came back up gasping for air, a string of his spit connecting the tip to his mouth
"are you okay?" he nodded, he leaned forward again to lick around your cock, looking up at you "this is...never gonna work if you don't be rough with me, please? i can take it, i promise...you don't have to hold back"
he gave you no time to respond as he took your cock back into his mouth, staring up at you expectantly, waiting
if he wanted so badly, then you should give it to him, right? he moaned around you as you pushed him down, his throat convulsing as he gagged, but even as he struggled you kept him down, thrusting into his mouth
"m-mnph...mmh..." freminet's noises only serve to heighten your pleasure, his hands gripping onto your waist as he took your cock obediently, letting you use his mouth, almost as if he wasn't treating this as practice
"that's it... that's good, you're so good at this, aren't you? just staying still and letting me do what i want..." you groaned as you moved his head up and down your cock, a fistful of his hair made him whimper, but you could tell he enjoyed it
your cum shot down his throat, making him gag again, as you pulled out of his mouth, he moved his hands to try and catch all of it that tried pouring out, his eyes were wet, with tears streaking down his face, but he smiled as he gasped for air
"i...think i need more practice" he panted "I'm not done yet..."
♥️: @circles19 @aster1113 @crypt2niite @riri-03 @nyuvillette @loyal-to-dottore @aizen-kisei @kirbystrange
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you once said that the ZK do not allow the canonical Zuko to show real, sometimes ugly signs of trauma. can you write more about this? because that's what I always felt when I came across their terrible takes, but I couldn't express it.
Gladly! But first, I need to mention the sign of trauma that Zuko usually lacks - and that, for some reason, the fandom insists defines his character:
Fear
Don't get wrong, I'm not saying Zuko never experienced fear. We all saw that poor boy on his knees, crying, begging his father not to hurt him.
But in "Zuko Alone" we also see 10-year-old Zuko get bitter that only his younger sister was expected to show off her firebending skills, and deciding that he would go against his father and demonstrate his own skills to the Fire Lord - that despite the fact that he knew Azula was better at it than he was. Even when it goes wrong, he is upset, but doesn't look afraid of the consequences.
That same episode shows Azula mocking him for playing with knives despite not even being good at it, and even though the fandom insists she was his worst fear ever since he was a child, Zuko responds with a "Put an apple on your head and we'll see how good I am." That little guy has exactly zero chill.
Let's not forget why he was banished either: Despite being considered too young to be in that war meeting, Zuko demanded to be there, eventually got his way, and despite having been told not to say anything, the second he hears a general suggest using their own men as "fresh meat" to lure the enemy, Zuko speaks out against it. And at the start of the Agni Kai, he looked 100% ready to fight a grown ass man with battle experience - until he saw it was his father/Fire Lord.
Let's not forget his Agni Kai with Zhao, which was his idea and that he actually won - and before that, he openly calls Ozai a fool, to which Zhao points out that banishment clearly not teach Zuko to watch his mouth. Or the time he openly challenged Azula in Ba Sing Se and they only didn't fight then and there because Azula knew she'd have the advantage by using the Dai Li. Hell, at the start of that very season, after she tried to lure him to a trap, Zuko's first reaction is to charge at her, fire-daggers in hand. That boy is the definition of "Fuck around and find out."
He has also done things like choosing to save his uncle from earthbenders instead of chasing Aang, crossing a blockade and going into actual Fire Nation territory even though he legally is no longer allowed to do that, and helped rescue Aang from Zhao as the Blue Spirit. It shows us that Zuko doesn't have an issue with temporarely deviating from his mission because of something HE deems important even though his father doesn't, openly disregarding Ozai's orders, and even basically saying "My father will have the Avatar as a prisoner only if I'm the one to capture him"
And, of course, on the day of the eclipse, Zuko grabs his swords and directly threatens Ozai, telling that bastard to sit the fuck down, shut up, and listen to his list of reasons why he sucks as a parent, ruler and person.
Zuko is brave. Unbelievably so. He is fierce, proud, and impulsive to the point of getting himself in situations that he should have known would not go his way (like fighting a waterbender in the snow, in the full moon) because he is very much a "act first, think later" kind of guy. So the fandom's insistence that he is constantly paralyzed by fear is a gross over-simplification of how his trauma affects him.
We only see him genuinely afraid of Ozai twice. During the Agni Kai itself, and then again when he WANTS to speak out against his father's plan to burn the Earth Kingdom to the ground, but can't bring himself to because he remembers what happened last time he spoke out against that kind of horrible thing during a war meeting, at that very room. It took something THAT triggering to make him cower before a challenge.
However, fear wasn't the only reason why didn't speak out during that moment, and that takes us to the first "ugly" sign of trauma that the fandom as a whole likes to pretend Zuko wasn't repeatedly shown to experience:
"My father is right about me, actually"
Zuko doesn't think Ozai was wrong to disfigure and banish him. How could he? Nobody in that entire room stood up to at least try to support him, not even his uncle - who also once said "Why would your father have banished you if he didn't care about you?" because, surprise surprise, nobody in that family knows how to help someone through trauma because they're all dealing with their own shit. Even his crew, who WAS sympathetic to him after finding out how he got that scar, were still 100% willing to not only support Ozai, but risk their lives for him.
Zuko isn't just trying to heal from abuse, he is trying to heal from victim-blaming, and to go against YEARS of indoctrination that say the Fire Lord can do no wrong. That's part of why it was so difficult for Iroh and others to help him: Zuko didn't believe that he needed or deserved help.
And that is also one of his three major unhealthy coping mechanisms. Claiming that HE needs to prove himself to Ozai, that HE needs to make up for HIS mistakes, not the other way around.
It might seem strange that this could be a way to cope, but look at it this way: If it WAS his fault instead of Ozai's, then that means his dad is not an unfair, abusive piece of shit that is unbelievably cruel and impossible to please. Zuko just needs to accomplish this mission of capturing the Avatar and everything will be fine, they'll be a normal family again, and he won't have to be afraid of someone he thought he could trust.
It was like Iroh said: Things are never going to be the same ever agin, but the Avatar gives Zuko HOPE. And that hope that his abuser will one day have a change of heart and be a loving father to him again is both what allows Zuko not to give into despair - and what keeps him trapped in that awful situation.
Misplaced Anger
Another "unpleasant" sign of trauma that Zuko has is how he clearly has an anger problem. Sure, he's a moody teenager with a short fuse, but we see over and over again that he tends to blow things way out of proportion, and that when faced a fact or opinion he doesn't like, he is quick to lash out at someone with VERY cruel words (see him calling Iroh a lazy, shallow, jealous old man in "Avatar State", or calling him crazy and saying if he wasn't in prison, he'd be sleeping in a gutter in "The Headband").
Through the entire show, many people faced Zuko's wrath - Iroh, Aang and friends, his crew, Azula, innocent people of the Earth Kingdom, Mai, Ty Lee, that one rando that talked to Mai, and even Zuko himself.
The one person that usually escapes said wrath is, ironically, Ozai. In "Zuko Alone" he refuses to believe his father would ever be capable of harming him, in "Avatar State" he snaps at Iroh for doubting that Ozai really changed his mind about the whole banishment thing.
He is mad at Aang for being too difficult to capture, and at Zhao for stealing his one chance to come home. He never stops to question if it's fair that his father had him chase someone that was presumed dead, aka an impossible task, as the condition to bring him home. He also never addresses how he feels about the reason WHY said banishment happened until the Day Of Black Sun.
He is mad at Azula for lying to him and trying to take him home as a prisoner. He never gets mad at his father for not only wanting to lock him away forever because ZHAO screwed up at the North Pole, nor how messed up it was that he put Azula in charge of said mission.
For fuck's sake, in the day of the eclipse, we find out that Zuko legit believed his mother was DEAD - and the entire circumstance was shady as hell and put Ozai in a very bad light. Yet Zuko still wanted his love, still wanted to be a "worthy" son.
He HAS to direct his anger at other people, otherwise he'll realize that no, his father, the adult that was meant to care for him, is a complete monster.
Everytime Zuko lashes out at other people before confronting Ozai, he's basically acting like someone who is drowning and, in a panic, is trying to pull the nearest person under so he can try to breathe. It is one of the most accurate and honest representations of trauma and abuse, and it makes me SO mad when people erase it in their fics because "poor, innocent, helpless turtleduck that can do no wrong" makes Zuko look like less of a dick - and also completely strips him of his agency.
And that isn't even the thing that fans ignore the most. That "honor" goes to the simple fact that Zuko, as expected of a child raised to believe the Fire Lord can do no wrong, decided that Azula had the right idea and that the best way to avoid being a victim again was...
Copying His Abuser
Zuko has REPEATEDLY let his "inner Ozai" out through the show.
He is all manipulative by not letting the pirates know he was chasing the Avatar who was worth A LOT more than the scrowl they'd get as a reward for helping him, and by using Katara's necklace as a way to try and get her to say where Aang was.
He repeatedly steals stuff from innocent people (including some who helped him, like Song) because, in his own words "These people should just be giving stuff to us" - aka he's very much an entitled prince.
He betrays his uncle by joining Azula in Ba Sing Se, leading to Iroh being thrown in prison. He also doesn't give a shit when Katara says "I thought you had changed!" and he sends a freaking assassin after the Gaang. Even him refusing to tell Azula that there was a chance Aang could still be alive works both as a "Zuko doesn't trust Azula to not use that against him, and for good reason" and "Zuko did not even stop to think that, since Azula was the one who killed Aang, him coming back also puts HER in danger, because he's too focused on his own problems to notice anybody else's."
More importantly, he rejected a chance of a ceasefire with the Gaang three times (The Blue Spirit, The Chase, Crossroads of Destiny), much like Ozai refused his shot at ending the war in the finale before his battle with Aang, and not only did he challenge Zhao to an Agni Kai and seriously consider burning him, he also threatened one of his crewmen by saying he'd "teach him respect" - which we found out later that episode was what Ozai right before disfiguring poor Zuko.
For fuck's sake, Ozai was literally designed to look like an older Zuko. One without a scar, one that was never banished, one that never had to see first-hand all the death and suffering war brings and reflect on the role he plays in it.
Finally, we have the war meetings in "Nightmares And Daydreams", in which Zuko doesn't speak out against his father's completely inhumane plans to deal with the Earth Kingdom. When talking about it with Mai, he says "I was the perfect prince, the son my father wanted. But I wasn't me."
That is the turning point for Zuko for a reason. It's him finally being forced to acknowledge that, to become Ozai's ideal son, to earn his (conditional) love, to not be his victim he has to be just as bad as he is, just as cruel, just as unfair - and we see in Azula's breakdown how Zuko likely would have ended up if he accepted that path.
But he didn't, and that was not easy because even though it was the morally correct choice, it'd require him to sacrifice everything - his title as a prince, his right to be in the Fire Nation, his relationship with Mai, his (extremelly complicated, sometimes good, often awful) bond with Azula, the "easy" way to get literally anything he wanted at everyone else's expense, and, of course, accept that his father was never going to love him, was never going to change, and was never going to feel sorry for abusing him.
Erasing such a central conflict of his character for the sake of denying he ever did anything wrong is, ironically, removing one of Zuko's most noble character traits: his inability to just live with himself after doing something horrible. There's a reason he is in deep conflict even after getting everything he wanted after the fall of Ba Sing Se - he knows he doesn't deserve it after what he's done.
If you ignore his mistakes and the horrible consequences it had for other people, you also ignore Zuko's growth. This puts him more in the position of a good guy being held hostage by the evil villain, not of a troubled child that redeems himself as he matures.
No flaws, no mistakes, no growth, no arc.
Trauma Doesn't Just Go Away
This one is, by far, the bad trope regarding Zuko's trauma that Zutarians are the most guilt of: assuming that if he just gets enough comforting hugs (mainly from Katara), all of his inner turmoil will suddenly be healed. No more sadness, no more fear, no more of the ugly traits they never acknowledge in the first place. Just a happy, fully recovered Zuko.
But that's just not how these things work. Having the support of a loved one helps victims feel better, but it won't magically make everything okay. Trauma is a really difficult thing to handle. There's good days, bad days, relapses, bad habits that are difficult to move past from. And not only are there cases in which people take YEARS to recover, there are also cases in which they never fully heal, and instead just learn to live with that burden that is still very much present.
I understand the desire to show in fics and headcanons that Zuko will eventually be fully healed and happy, but the way Zutarians make Katara act as not just his girlfriend, but as basically his therapist that needs to find miracle solutions for every single one of his problems, comfort him whenever any minor inconvenience happens until he's gotten enough hugs to be magically okay doesn't just reveal how hypocritical they are, since they insist Kataang is about Katara being Aang's girlfriend/mom/baby-sitter, but also that they legit do not understand a damn thing about trauma and how it works.
Which takes me to:
How Mai Actually Did Right By Zuko
Poor, poor Mai. She gets blamed for "bring out the worst in Zuko", for not being "supportive", for being too cold and unemotional, for not "seeing the real him" - yet she's one of the characters that CONSISTENLY help put Zuko back on his track.
She offers him emotional support and lots of signs of affection over and over again - telling him not worry when they're arriving at the Fire Nation, pointing out she doesn't hate him when she says she's beautiful when she hates the world, explicitly saying she cares about him in The Beach, being incredibly sweet and loving to him during all of Nightmares and Daydreams, and then again in the finale by helping him get dressed up and acting all cute as they get back together.
But she also holds him accountable when he screws up. She doesn't let him use his difficult life as an excuse to be a jerk and calls him out when he's being unreasonable, or when she feels mistreated/like he's making a mistake (see The Beach and Boiling Rock Part 2).
But since the fandom loves to completely erase Zuko's mistakes AND to not let go of a stupid ship war, this completely changes the context, making Mai out to be this awful, bitchy girlfriend, when in reality, she did a great job handling Zuko - sometimes even better than the fan favorite and mentor figure Zuko had through most of his arc.
Uncle Iroh Fucked Up
Before all of you try to kill me, let me make one thing clear here: I love Uncle Iroh. He is one of the most awesome characters in the show, and I fully believe he was trying his best to help Zuko.
But he is still a human being that makes mistakes, and he was raised in the same dysfunctional family Zuko was, meaning he often had NO IDEA how to handle his deeply traumatized teenage nephew/son.
Him spending all of book 1 trying to help Zuko capture Aang so he could go back to living with the guy that disfigured him is already bad enough, but we also have the episode "Avatar State" in which Iroh asks "Why would your father banish you if he didn't care about you?"
Obviously he only did these things because he didn't want Zuko give into despair and depression - but he is still, at best, ignoring the issue, and at worst actively making excuses for Ozai's abuse of his own son. This backfires on him spectacularly, as Zuko sides with Azula over him both in the first and last episode of the season specifically because he believes that appeasing Ozai is the right thing to do, as he was only banished "for his own good."
But THE biggest mistake Iroh made when it came to helping Zuko was his refusal to accept that no, Zuko was never going to be happy by living a quiet, simple life in Ba Sing Se - even after Zuko explicitly said as much to his face.
Obviously, to some extent, Iroh HAS to make Zuko accept that he won't ever be able to come back home after Ozai literally ordered Azula to capture him, but he could have tried to find some kind of middle ground with Zuko, since being a waiter clearly wasn't making him happy.
"Oh, but what about how Zuko started acting after his metamorphosis? He was so happy about working on the tea-shop with his uncle, and that was supposed to reveal his true self!"
Yes, it was supposed to do that. But we saw how Zuko acted after actually dealing with his trauma and redeeming himself. He was obviously in a much healthier place, both mentally and spiritually, but he was still moody, still sarcastic, still as proud as ever, and even Iroh recognized that he was meant to be Fire Lord.
Zuko's arc has a lot to do with identity, with how he sees himself. At that point, the only thing he still had in life was his uncle - so he was acting like him, because there seemed to be no other role model, no other path. Seeing that weird, cheery, relaxed, always-seeing-the-good-side-of-things version of Zuko was honestly unnerving.
And Iroh thought that Zuko basically giving himself the Lake Laogai treatment was okay because he following in his footsteps, doing what helped IROH heal and change - he didn't realize it was never gonna be able to do the same for Zuko.
The very second Azula shows up, even when she's being hostile, Zuko drops the facade, because she's a reminder of both his old life and what he thought his future would be. And when she offers him "redemption" Iroh tried to advice Zuko against joining her by saying "The redemption she offers is not for you" (as in not for someone who is doing better and doesn't need to return to the Fire Nation) and "It's time for you to choose. It's time for you to choose good." How is it a choice if Iroh is explicitly saying which option Zuko cannot pick, essentially making the decision for him?
Iroh didn't just get the way to help Zuko wrong - he didn't realize his nephew didn't believe he needed help. They were not on the same page at all, and that contribuited to Zuko betraying him.
Though, thankfully, it ended up being for the best, as Zuko found his own way to redemption by himself.
Conclusion
This fandom as a whole tends to not understand Zuko at all and just eat up a bunch of fanon while pretending to be so intellectual, which I very much resent it for.
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starberry-cupcake · 24 days
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We are done with book 1, folks!!!
previously, in gideon the ninth
this happened
also, I was proven right about dulcinea (kind of)
just pointing that out again
final update of this book, it's gonna be a bit of a long one, folks (gideon, from inside my mind, where she is now living rent-free: "that's what she said!"):
we left off in the fight against not!dulcinea
yandere simulator twin w/inner chad was being used as a battery pad
regina george twin is at an unknown location
la gideon and my qp wife are fighting
harrowcita passed out
so basically not!dulcinea unlocks the big magnus archives entity monster harrowbean had previously locked
harrow wakes up to make a bone dome
for scale, this is the dome and mickey is gideon, but she's inside the thing
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magnus archives junji ito monster keeps beating the dome from outside to crack it open like an egg
harrowbean starts to disintegrate from the inside because it's hard to make a bone spaceship earth and keep it up
camilla is accepting fate at this point, my poor beloved qp wife
but la gideon is not gonna give up
she's never gonna give you up
never gonna let you down
never gonna...
so harrow starts making a goodbye speech
reminding gideon to take care of the ninth and the barbie in the freezer
for the barbie reference, please go to this recap
but gideon is determined to come up with a plan
*very niche reference but "bien warrior" by miss bolivia plays in the background*
we all know this is a terrible idea because gideon's plans are always "punch really hard" and, in this case, that's a wild thing to do
but she does that
a metal version of that
she decides to, if I understand correctly (because description is scarce for various acceptable reasons) impale herself on the iron spikes inside the dome, to force Harrow to slurp her soul
so this is the situation
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absolutely heartbreaking stuff
she's sort of ghost-placing herself behind Harrow to guide her using the sword
like this
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and being all silly and gideon-esque and harrow is heartbroken and sad and it's all very very heartbreaking and I'm suffering
I'm ANGRY, OK????
IT'S NOT FAIR
I didn't even like gideon at the start
I complained about her for like a good first chunk of this book
I got mad at her for being dense and not following through with things
I got angry at her way of approaching situations and trusting people I didn't trust
I didn't totally vibe with her vibe most times
and then she made me like her and grow attached and NOW I HAVE TO SUFFER???
what's the point????? you make me like you and then you SACRIFICE YOURSELF?????
WHY??????
footage of me
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anyway, it's fine, we're fine, everything's FINE
harrow and force-ghost gideon defeat not!dulcinea by aiming at the "issue" palmolive started
( @lady-harrowhark "paramedics" is actually a much better nickname, why didn't I think of that)
not!dulcinea crosses the veil, hopefully forever, good riddance bitch, you really did fuck everything up for petty reasons
harrow passes out
afterwards, harrow wakes up in like a sort of hospital situation or something like that
the space version of that
there's a man reading stuff in a tablet and a paper
a "flimsy", which I didn't know was something before this book (again, not a native English speaker, doing my best here)
the man has very specific eyes which I imagined in a way that I'm not sure is what it's supposed to be, but I'm gonna keep my version for now
this is the man of the hour, the emperor, many other titles I can't remember, the reason we all got together in the first place
harrow is upset, I'm upset, we're all upset
emperor sama over here can't do shit about it
according to him
which, what are you, the wizard of oz?
he's also like "forgive not!dulcinea, it was my bad" I WILL FORGIVE NOTHING
he says he can't bring gideon back without risking harrowbean as well
very limited for a man who claims to be god
who seems to have beef with a barbie in an ice cube
idk about this guy
so he tells harrow that he's gonna protect the ninth if she becomes lyctor because the universe is going to shit and he can't handle everything on his own anymore
you know what could have helped, my man? COMMUNICATION
WE DON'T KNOW WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING AT ANY GIVEN POINT
anyway, harrow is, at this point, tired and sad and grieving for everything so she says ok
according to this guy, the only other survivor is yandere simulator twin w/inner chad who is missing an arm
very convenient for him, who needs lyctors
an didn't, at any point, explain anything
but they "haven't been able" to find the bodies of: la gideon, my wife and regina george twin
everyone else was, at least, partially recovered, as far as I remember he said
they're probably gathering pieces of palmolive from every carpet and piece of wallpaper
I am reluctantly gonna miss that guy
so there is hope that I'm not a qp widow yet and that la gideon might come back in some capacity, which I MEAN, COME ON
also, I don't know if people would be making such a fuss about her arms if her body wasn't of consequence anymore
because I don't know much about these books but I did know that coming in, that and skull make up were my two clues
and we still don't know where she came from and if she's a demigod
and why her hair and eyes are that color
I don't know, I'm unsure about this
I hold hope
keeeeeeep hoooooolding ooooooon ♪
I am sure regina george twin will be back because people have been cryptic about her in replies to my updates
and I hope camilla comes back because right now I'm like a victorian wife, standing at a lighthouse, waiting for her sailor to come back from the depths of the sea, throwing messages in bottles
final extra notes:
THERE WAS A GLOSSARY ALL ALONG
I COULD HAVE BEEN LOOKING AT IT
maybe it was better this way, though, but WHY DIDN'T I LOOK PROPERLY
PALMOLIVE WOULD KILL ME FOR THIS OVERSIGHT
now I know what thanergy is, what thalergy is, what bone magic and flesh magic differ in, can you believe???
I can summon my own construct and everything
it's the only way to make friends as an adult, after all
there is a guide for the names and I have been pronouncing more things right than I thought because many of these are based in Latin and I'm a Spanish speaker so maybe if I had just pronounced them as they sounded to me I could have remembered more names
there is also a list of salseo/tea from judith
I kept making comments while reading them
she was acting like camilla was of no consequence from the start
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ALSO PROTOZOA HAD KIDS?????? WHAT????
man, poor dude, rip this guy we never really knew
she did read chad for filth, which is correct
but they were off about absolutely everything else
important ending commentary of the book:
as an ending side note
I'm going to just point this out, with kindness and utmost respect
like, much love and respect and warm regards
don't kill me for this
as an editor
I am enraged with the tagline they have in the cover of this book, now that I've finished it
the quote that's in the cover about lesbian necromancers in a victorian mansion in space and whatnot
it sells the book incredibly short and also tells you things you shouldn't be told because a) they aren't as clear cut as they make them out to be and b) you should be told none of that entering this book
best experience is to know absolutely nothing
like gideon
and since I have an ebook, I see that quote more prominently than any blurb
it reads like the short summary of a fic and it doesn't do it justice one bit
now that I've finished the book, I think this post was about it and I didn't know at the time, because that's fair
this book is very difficult to categorize because it seems to be using a lot of different references and mixing them together in a very personal and unique way to the author
but, because of that, it's a very unique take on different things
I think it stands very aligned with both core classics and more contemporary foundations, at the same time
and the narrative point of view is a bit at-odds with the complexity of the lore, which makes it a very brave first part of a bigger thing for an author to throw out there
and it works, as it is
it actually works well like that
however, as difficult as it can be to explain it, that tagline really flattens it to something that I don't think favors how much more of that it is???
I don't know, that's just my personal & professional opinion, but anyway
I need to go find the next one
you haven't seen the last of me!!!!!
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day-drawn-blog · 6 months
Text
Part III: I meant to say, that I love you, or maybe, fear like a flame, what's happening to me.
- The Power.
Part III : Just tonight, maybe I'll rest in peace
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Tags: angst, fluff, sadness, angst, fluff, then maybe eventually smut because I do love that
Part I. Crowned light moon of mine - I found you too soon
Part II : Lace your heart with mine Let your sleeping soul take flight
Part IV : There is much to do and I still want to live
Part V: our futures bound, our bodies known
Part VI : these ain't my sins, I broke my chains
Part VII: You are not mine and am I truly yours
Part VIII: your blood like wine, invites me in
Part IX: I'll welcome my sentence and give you my penance
Part X : I can't go yet...don't let me die
------------
Another day, another battle. You shut out Shadowheart's physical closeness and familiarity with Astarion out of your peripheral vision. Because you like her. And this wasn't her fault. You don't want to hate her. But something strange would happen every now and again. Walking along with everyone, during the day, you trying to keep your distance from the two, trailing behind a bit... Astarion would turn back and look at you a few times. Catching you off guard. He would smile if he caught you looking at him sometimes.
What is he playing at.
It's not like we are friends. Not like that....I help him... And we fight together. And then you almost slipped on a cliff trying to go down a cragged rock, he stayed behind a bit, and held his hand out for you. You had to hold it or you would have fallen on your face. Embarrassing. And awkward.
He was happy. Smiling.
Dealing a lot of damage. Energized. His happiness energized you too. You were glad. If being his friend meant such warmth, you would take it. Remember what you want to be. You want to serve and protect. Even those that are too proud to ask for it. Or too lost to hope.
That night at camp was a celebration. You cannot remember why. But a bard was singing. Everyone sat around the fire. Laughing, singing. Drinking. Halsin was throwing someone in the air. Laezel was lecturing Gale on the merits of working out your body as much as the mind.
Once again you were lonely in a crowd.
It's not that you were'nt surrounded by people you loved who loved you back. But, that you sat opposite him. Across the fire. Him next to shadowheart. You between wyll and karlach. Shadowheart was telling him something pouring wine for him. He was laughing at what she said, happy. What a smile. He should smile more. Though he might accidentally show his fangs. You didn't realize you were inadvertently staring at his face. He locked eyes with you. You jolted and looked away.
Dammit.
It's embarrassing as it is, you keep his secret and let him drink you. This ...this is crossing the line even for you. While you looked away from him, your face solemn, between two happy people, Astarion couldn't help but notice. He felt sad. For you. You had helped him so much. Yet you were so sad yourself. He felt powerless. He resolved to come talk to you when he could tear himself away.
You didn't want to linger.
You got up. Took your sword. A bottle. And sulked into the darkness. Away from the merriment. Guilty of leaving those having fun. But you needed to channel your energy. You swing your weapon at a tree a few times, then practiced some moves by yourself. The noise fades away. Your mind quietened. You stopped to catch your breath. To take in the view.
It was breathtaking.
As you were lost taking in the river gleaning in the moonlight in the valley down the cliff, you heard someone approach.
"I saw you leave. I got you some wine". Astarion's smiling face appeared from the shadows. He handed you the bottle. You gratefully accepted. "it's beautiful out here".
Yes it was.
"shall we? :) Everyone is happy back at camp. Come join them" he beckoned. As if he had sought you out just to escort you back. You obliged. Walking back, he expressed his gratitude, and asked if he could come visit you again. That familiar feeling of being used...
But you couldn't say no.
After the merriment of the night, you went back to your tent. Dreading the encounter. Your heart was beating so fast in anticipation of this secret rendezvous. Why did it feel so wrong, yet so exciting. Images of his eyes, his face close to you, bent on your hand, flashed across. The alcohol must be getting to you. You paced around the tent. Shortly after, you heard him approach.
Your heart almost stopped.
He stumbled in. Had he been drinking so much? Shadowheart did make him drink a lot, but still. He ran his fingers through his hair. Smiled his charming smile and came inside. "Are you ready, darling? I can't wait, I'm positively famished" he said reeking of alcohol.
Ugh. Whatever. He is not even in his senses.
What was I expecting. You went to him, half expecting having to support him, but he just plopped down on your pillows. On his back. He beckoned you to come near him. Clearly lacking any energy to sit up. So you sat next to him. Extending your left arm to him. He held it, then smelled your arm. Taking you in.
Weird. You thought.
He then playfully licked your hand, while looking at you. Entwined his fingers with yours, and kissed them again. You could sense your heat rising in you. Your heart pounding, feeling warm down there. What a tease. Just get on with it and be done.
He did something very unusual.
He continued to kiss the back of your hand, trailing up ever so slightly, then licked your hands up and then slowly down a bit back to your fingertips. He then turned your hand over and kissed your palm. He was on his back the whole time.
Does he think you are her?
What is he doing? You were getting flustered, humiliated...but you didn't want him to stop. You were greedy. Just when you were about to ask him, he bit you. The sharp pang was surprising this time. He wasn't being gentle, you let out a little moan, looking away, then dropping down next to him. You felt drained. The feelings were too much to handle.
Principles be damned.
You want to savor the moment. The man you yearn for, right next to you. Your shoulders touching. Lying on your back, next to each other, hearing each other's breath. His face so close to you, with your hand on his lips. His thighs next to yours. You want to touch him...
But can you?
You shouldn't. Must not. Maintain your dignity. You urged yourself. Please. You don't want to stoop so low. He let go... With another kiss on your hand, he licked the droplets, then turned to look at you. You could smell the alcohol again. His eyes were happy, he was smiling. He looked nothing like the deceptive manipulative rogue you think he is, at that time. Just someone, very happy, very safe, very content.
Isn't shadowheart waiting?
You wanted to ask. But it wasn't your place. So you let him be. He held your hand in his. Entwined your fingers. And he showed no signs of getting up. Much to your panic. Is he going to be here all night? He can't be planning to? You propped yourself up on your elbows. To get a look at his face. But he was already asleep!
This....son of a gun!! He was passed right out.
Part IV : There is much to do and I still want to live
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darknight3904 · 6 months
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The Monster and The Lady
Masterlist / Main Masterlist
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Happy Loki Season 2 Finale! As my gift to you here's the chapter a day early! ( The finale was amazing and it ripped my heart out and stomped on it.)
Asgard 2011
Astri was polishing her sword when Loki barged into her chambers. 
   "Remember the conversation we had about knocking, Loki?" She asked without looking up 
His lack of response got Astri to look away from her work. Loki was sitting on one of the large pieces of furniture that decorated her room. All of his attention was on his hands as he stared at them. 
   "If you're upset about what happened to Thor, I'm sure he is fine on Midgard." She said moving to sit next to him. "They love him there."
   "Stay back," Loki said, his deep voice suddenly scaring Astri. It was the same tone he often used when speaking to enemies in battle. It was intimidating, mean, and cold, and Astri hated everything about it.
She crossed so that she was sitting across from him, the small table felt like it was keeping her miles away from him. Loki's eyes looked red and swollen as he kept them focused on his hands. 
   "You've been crying." Astri observed, "What happened?" 
   "Nothing I can't handle." He lied.
   "It doesn't seem that way? Do you want some tea? We can talk about it, I'll send for Drifa." Astri offered gently
   "I didn't come here to talk," Loki said 
   "Then why are you here and not in your chambers?" Astri pushed, she knew he didn't just come here to sit, he had something he wanted to get off his chest. 
   "I don't want to be alone." He said, looking up, "You're the only thing that makes sense in this damn palace." 
Okay...progress. But he definitely had something else he wanted to say, Astri would take that for now. 
   "You don't have to worry. I won't be going anywhere, I'll stay here with you." Astri assured knowing her words were anything but lies.
   "You won't want to once you know though. That's what scares me." Loki said softly 
Astri wanted to reach across the table and hold his shaking hands but his harsh tone from earlier kept her grounded in her seat, hands folded neatly in her lap. The doors opened to her chambers and two guards walked in. 
   "Lady Astri, the queen summons you." The one on the right said. 
Astri wondered what could be amiss as she walked quickly through the halls. Loki was uncharacteristically a few paces behind her and dead silent when the guards directed them to Odin's chambers of all places. Frigga seemed frazzled and uncomposed when Astri saw her next to the Allfather. It was strange seeing her so distressed when she normally seemed to have everything under control. 
   "Astri, Loki." She stood and greeted them both with warm hugs. Loki's stiffened posture didn't go unnoticed by Astri. 
   "What happened?" Astri asked eyeing Odin's sleeping form 
   "He has fallen into the Odinsleep. It was too sudden this time. I fear he might not wake this time." Frigga said sadly 
   "He is strong, Frigga. I'm sure he will wake again soon." Astri said placing a warm hand on her mother figure's shoulder. Was this what Loki wanted to tell her? Did he cause this? The way he was acting made it seem worse than this. Odin had fallen to Odinsleep many times in the past.
The doors opened abruptly to reveal what had to be a full platoon of soldiers on the other side. When Loki turned to them they all bent their knee to him. One came forward and presented Loki with Gungnir, the spear Astri rarely saw Odin without. 
   "My king, Lady Sif, and the Warriors Three request an audience with you." He said once Loki had taken it from him
Astri felt her face pale when she realized what was happening. Loki seemed to have a similar reaction but quickly recovered and nodded to the man. 
   "I'll meet them in the throne room," Loki said, dismissing him and his fellow soldiers. 
   "Loki..." Astri said, reaching out to grab his hand. She didn't know what she was going to say just that she didn't want him to leave her. 
   "Stay here. With my mother." Loki said, pulling his hand away from her reach 
   "But I want to-" 
   "Stay. I'll send Drifa to bring you those cakes." Loki cut her off 
   "Is that an order...my king?" Astri asked, the words felt bitter in her mouth. 
   "Yes." He hissed before turning on his heel and leaving the door. 
   "Come sit with me, darling." Frigga beckoned to her.
⋆⭒˚。⋆
Loki kept his word and sent Drifa with Astri's favorite cakes. They were delicate little lemon-flavored things with soft powdered sugar on top. Beyond the cakes, he had also sent her the book she had been reading for the past week along with tea and a book for his mother. Even when he was upset, he was looking out for them.
   "What's on your mind?" Frigga asked, moving her eyes from Odin's form.
   "Nothing." Astri sighed 
   "Remember when I told you your mother and I were raised by witches?" 
Astri nodded. 
   "That means I can see with more than eyes. Now, why is my son troubling you?" She asked 
How does she always know what's wrong?
   "He seemed very distraught before you summoned me here. I know it could have just been Odin's condition but it seemed to be more than that." Astri confessed, "He kept staring at his hands too, and wouldn't let me sit next to him which you know he always does." 
   "I think it's best if I let him tell you what's wrong," Frigga advised suddenly looking away.
   "But you just asked me to tell you-" 
   "When Odin fell asleep, He and Loki were discussing...matters in the weapons vault. Loki told me what happened." Frigga explained, "But, it is not my place to tell my son's secrets to the world." 
   "But it's not the world. It's just me." Astri reasoned 
Silence passed and Astri could tell Frigga was thinking about something important.
   "Go to him. If he gets upset tell him he can whine about it to me." Frigga smiled
Astri groaned but stood up and went to the door anyway. 
   "You're sure you'll be ok alone?" She asked looking back at Odin. 
   "I have lived for thousands of years, darling. I will be alright." She smiled gently
Astri nodded before quietly slipping out the door. The walk to the throne room was incredibly brief. Perks of being the Allfather, your bedroom is closest to the most important room in the castle. 
Loki's armor was complimented by the large throne. The green he normally donned made him look more regal as his golden helmet shone when the light hit it. 
   "Lady Astri. I thought I ordered you to stay with my mother." 
  "And I thought you weren't an uptight jerk with a stick up your ass," Astri responded 
Loki's sharp gaze snapped to her and she stared up at him defiantly. He might be king now but she knew he'd never do anything to harm her. 
   "Leave us." He ordered the guards in the room 
Astri watched him slowly descend from the throne almost as if it was for dramatic purposes. King of Asgard? More like King of Dramatics.
   "What are you doing?" Loki asked, annoyed
   "I wanted to talk to you," Astri explained 
   "That doesn't mean you can call me names like that in front of others." Loki scolded "I'm acting king now." 
   "The guards do not care what names the king's childhood friend calls him. I bet some of them are old enough that they saw the time you and Thor went running through the castle naked." Astri smiled 
   "Stop it," Loki demanded, looking around to see if anyone had entered the room
   "I'll stop when you talk to me." Astri said, "Do you think any of them remember the time you went crying to Frigga after you had a nightmare from the scary story Thor told at that sleepover we had with Volstagg?" 
Loki snapped his fingers in her face before she could think of another embarrassing childhood moment of his. 
   "Alright. We'll talk. Just stop saying crazy things." He said 
   "Crazy? All those things happened Loki. Just like the time you farted in front of that gorgeous boy, you tried charming who was visiting from Xandar with her family." She laughed 
Loki's face had grown red as he gestured for her to follow him. 
   "Not another word about me as a child," Loki ordered 
   "The fart incident was 200 years ago. You were already fully grown at that point." She pointed out 
   "I'll cut your hair again," Loki said as they reached his chambers
Astri giggled as she sat down on his bed and gestured for him to sit next to her. 
   "I'll say here." Loki declined still several feet from her 
   "I'm not going to bite you you know," Astri said
   "I just...don't want to hurt you." Loki softly said, piddling with his hands, a gesture Astri noticed he had down since they were children.
   "You won't. Just...tell me what's wrong. I'll help you fix it. I promise." She sincerely said 
   "You can't. I can't. No one can." Loki said looking away from her and at his shoes 
   "How do you know? What's even wrong anyway?" Astri asked 
   "If I tell you, you'll be scared of me," Loki said quietly
   "I won't. Nothing you do will ever scare me." Astri swore
A soft beat of silence passed over the room as Astri wished Loki would look up at her. 
   "I am a monster. A relic Odin kept here until he had a purpose for me." Loki said 
   "You're not a monster," Astri assured, standing and crossing the room so she was close to him again. 
   "You don't understand...I'm...one of them. One of those monsters who we've been told frightening stories about since we were children. I am a Frost Giant. The monster who Asgardian parents tell their children to be frightened of when they misbehave. I was nothing but a bargaining chip to Odin. Another object in this castle that represents his conquest over these Nine Realms." Loki said angrily, words cutting across the air like knives, as he finally looking her in the eyes 
   "What do you mean you're a Frost Giant?" Astri asked slowly, surprised at his speech.
Loki led Astri through the castle as he told her the story Odin had told him merely hours before. She stayed silent the whole time, absorbing what came from his mouth. Loki couldn't tell what was worse, her silence or what she might say about who he was. They reached the weapons vault quicker than he would have liked and soon were standing in front of the Joutun's casket. 
   "I will show you." He said, barely trusting his voice 
    "You don't have to. Let's go back to the library and read together." Astri said reaching for him again.
Loki ignored her request and placed his hands on the casket again. An indescribable coldless tingled through his body and he watched his hands turn blue once more. He felt it spread across his body and felt the soft facial lines that all Frost Giants bore rise from his skin. When he was sure he had held it long enough, he turned back to his dear Astri, awaiting her judgment.
   "I understand if you want to leave," Loki said
Astri was silent as her eyes roamed across him. Her light brown eyes we taking in every inch of blue skin that Loki had exposed to her and when she was finally done looking she opened her mouth.
   "I don't care." She said
   "What?" Loki balked, feeling his skin begin to change again
   "I don't care what you are. Tomorrow you could show me you're actually a dragon with wings the size of me and I'd still stay by your side. What matters to me is that you're Loki. I don't care if you're blue." Astri said finally taking his hands when they had gone back to normal.
   "Why?" He asked, closing his eyes and savoring how his hands felt in his. 
   "Because you're important to me," Astri said pressing her forehead to his "No one knows me like you do, and no one ever will." 
No spoilers to the finale but I have never felt more devastated yet fufilled by a Marvel project ever. I don't think I've been this distressed since I watched Infinity War and had to watch Loki die and then 2 hrs later watch Peter "die" in Tony's arms.
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humanpurposes · 11 months
Text
From Eden
Chapter 1: Little Novice
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Danes attack Wincombe Abbey and a young novice crosses paths with a group of mercenaries and their Baby Monk // Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist
Osferth x Original Female Character
Warnings: bit of violence and death, suggestive themes if you squint, there will eventually be smut
Words: 4000
A/n: not me starting another series oops but i can't resist the baby monk
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Today saw the first snowfall of the year. A few flakes landed on Bridget’s sleeves as she sauntered past the hard and frosted soil of the vegetable garden, past the pigsty and towards the stream that circled Wincombe Abbey. She swung an empty pitcher back and forth as she hummed the least melancholy hymn she could think of.
They had guests currently. Lady Aethelflaed of Mercia had arrived two days ago, bringing with her a group of guards who were camping at outside the Abbey. Bridget had been tempted to walk past the men on her errand, but the Abbess was already in a foul mood and she didn’t fancy testing her temper. Not unless it was for something interesting.
She had spent her morning as she always did. Prayers first. Her knees were never not bruised by the flagstone floor of the chapel, but with winter settling in they were numb too. Then she saw to the goats and the pigs. Then she helped in the kitchen. Finally, she got to eat in the hall with her Sisters. Bread with some winter preserves and slices of cured ham.
When she got to the stream, she placed the pitcher by her feet. With a final glance over her shoulder to the solitary stone building of the Abbey, she hopped across the water on a sparse path of rocks and made for the line of trees ahead of her.
The woods were the only place she felt like a living person and not simply a novice in a habit.
Bridget couldn’t stand how quiet life the Abbey could be. The Abbess, a stern but fair woman, told her it was because she was restless and unappreciative, but perhaps she was simply not well suited to mindfulness and prayer. Sometimes she could find things to laugh about with the younger girls, but then the Abbess would scold her for her “impiety”.
Once she was amongst the trees she tugged at her habit. In the summer she might take it off, but it offered some extra warmth in the colder months.
Her preferred weapon was where she left it, leaning against the trunk of a young oak tree. A broken bit of a branch, small enough for her to wield and heavy enough to hit against the trees.
She twirled it through her hands, just as her brother used to show her. From the few memories she had, she remembered he could do all sorts of impressive tricks with his sword. He could spin it and slice it through the air in controlled and precise movements.
It had been a decade since she had seen her brother, but she tried to keep his teachings with her, swinging branches at tree trunks, imagining she was a great warrior, like David slaying Goliath. Technically David had slayed Goliath with a rock and a sling, a detail the Abbess insisted was important. Bridget could invent a thousand reasons why, but she didn’t care to.
Especially when she was younger, she liked to imagine herself as a warrior when she was tasked with cutting wood or slaughtering and butchering the pigs. They were both hard work, but she was always willing to do it, if only to have an excuse to be destructive for once. She found it could be quite cathartic.
After a particularly harsh blow against a tree that cracked the branch almost in two, she froze. She heard horses. She hoped they would move on, but she made out a few figures in the distance, figures who appeared to have spotted her and were moving closer.
She dropped the branch and fixed her habit, to find a lock of her hair hovering over her forehead. She tucked it back in as the faces of the riders came into view.
There were five who rode at the front, four men and a woman with pale, blonde hair and strange markings on her face. A larger group, no more than twenty, hung back a little.
“A nun,” one of the men called. He rode in front of the group, their leader, she supposed.
“There we are then, you’ll feel right at home, Baby Monk,” another said. He had a gruff voice and an Irish accent. One of the other men laughed. The woman didn’t react at all.
“Is the Abbey nearby?” The leader asked.
Bridget frowned. He had an accent she could not place. “You are Danish?” She looked amongst the rest of their group, and they each seemed to find her accusation amusing.
“What is my religion to you, girl?”
“I would like to know if you would seek to do us harm.”
He raised a brow. “And you believe the best measure of a man to be the gods he follows?”
“I believe the best measure of a man is his intentions,” she said, meeting his eye and determined to keep her expression stoic.
But apparently he was pleased with her response. “You and I are similar in this respect,” he said, loosening the grip of his reins. “We seek the Lady Aethelflaed.”
“Would you seek to do her harm?”
“Only the good kind,” the Irishman mumbled with a smirk.
The leader rolled his eyes. “She and I are friends. I have come to offer her my protection.”
Bridget looked into the eyes of each of their group, the leader, the Irishman, the one who from his hair also looked to be a Dane, and the younger man riding at the back of the group. The woman had an unsettling gaze, she was the only one Bridget felt she felt compelled to look away from. The Abbess would call the markings on her face the markings of a heathen.
“There is a bridge over the stream,” she said, pointing through the trees. “Cross there. There will be room for your horses in the stables.”
She watched the men move away, each of them offering thankful smiles. She concealed her own, and headed back the way she came, across the stream and to the abbey with the empty pitcher.
Lady Aethelflaed welcomed them warmly and named their leader as Lord Uhtred. After it was agreed that they were decidedly not Danes (not the kind who would attack an Abbey anyhow), they settled in the hall, where Bridget and the nuns brought them bowls of stew and bread.
She expected them to eat like the Mercian guards, wolfing down bread and stew like they hadn’t seen food in days, but Lord Uhtred and his men thanked her graciously as she placed bowls on the table and went round to ladle out more stew for them.
Until she came to the man sitting at the end of the table, beside Lady Aethelflaed. He was the youngest of the group, with wide blue eyes and a sharp jaw. He kept to himself, slightly hunched over his stew.
She was rather fascinated by his robes and the small silver cross around his neck. If he had a slightly worse haircut he would look like a monk. But that was ridiculous, why would a monk be travelling with a group of mercenaries?
She approached him and waited for him to notice her. He looked up at her a smiled vaguely.
She indicated to the pot she was carrying.
“Please,” he muttered, holding out his bowl.
She dished a few spoonfuls for him and he smiled again, a little wider this time. She smiled back.
She wondered where he might be from, why he served a Dane if he wore a cross, how far their group had travelled and how many tales they might have.
“May I ask your name?” He asked.
She had been so distracted trying to think of something to say that his question took her by surprise.
“Oh… Bridget,” she said. “And you?”
“I am Osferth,” he said. He was very softly spoken, she thought. There was something so gentle and subdued about him.
“Are you a monk, Osferth?” She asked.
He glanced down at the cross hanging from his neck. “I was, I left my order to serve Lord Uhtred.”
“And now you are, what, a mercenary?”
Osferth chuckled to himself and shook his head lightly. “I am not much of a fighter just yet.”
“But you have a sword, and your friends are warriors.”
“I am still learning. In the meantime I can only practice and pray to God for courage and strength.”
She felt a light feeling in her chest she was sure she hadn’t felt in years. That’s what she prayed for too, even when the nuns told her she should be praying for patience and forgiveness.
“How did you—”
“Bridget.” The Abbess called, glaring at her from across the table.
Bridget nodded her head to Osferth, a farewell, she supposed, and headed back to the kitchen. One of the girls followed behind her, with a now empty pitcher of ale.
“The Irishman is handsome,” Bridget whispered into her ear once they were through the doors.
The other girl’s mouth fell open.
“What? Surely it is not a sin to look?”
The next morning, the Abbess ensured Bridget stayed in the kitchen. “So you might not be so easily distracted,” she warned, leaving her to peel and slice an endless amount of vegetables.
The Abbess seemed rather distressed at hosting Lord Uhtred and his men. “Ravenous permanently,” she grumbled, marching in through the kitchen with the remains of their breakfast. “They are eating into our winter stores.”
“So why let them stay?” Bridget muttered, dragging the edge of her knife over the skin of a few carrots.
“Because it is our place to show kindness,” the Abbess insisted through her teeth. She emptied the plate into a bucket by Bridget’s feet. “Take that out to the pigs.”
Bridget made no verbal protest. She placed the knife down and left through a small door that led out to the side of the Abbey, just as she had done the previous day. The skin of her cheeks stung when it met the icy morning air. The snow was heavier today. She blinked a few flakes out of her eyes and marched quickly towards the pigsty.
She made sure to scratch them behind the ears, poor things, left out in the cold.
She made her way around the building, to the front doors of the Abbey, and blinked.
And blinked again.
No, there was defineately an army of Danes lined up on the other side of the bridge.
“Good morning, nun!” One cried from atop a grey horse.
“Who are you?” Bridget demanded, but her voice came out a little more broken than intended.
The man chuckled and nodded to the bridge.
They had three hostages, each with a knife being held to their throats.
But with the order from their leader, the first hostage’s throat was sliced open, his body carelessly left to fall to the floor.
Bridget couldn’t bring herself to scream and choked out a broken sort of gasp.
They made no demands, made no moves towards her, and there was no indication they intended to kill the other two hostages. Not yet.
She slowly stalked towards the doors, unable to keep her eyes away from the danger.
“We will wait!” The man on the horse called, “for Aethelflaed!”
She ran to the kitchen first.
“To the hall!” She cried, moving to shut the windows.
The others all stared at her for a moment.
“Now!”
“What is the meaning of this?” The Abbess asked, bolting the door to the gardens as the others fled the kitchen.
“Danes,” Bridget breathed. She hadn’t realised her lack of breath or the restless feeling creeping under her skin.
The Abbess’s skin turned pale. She placed her hand on Bridget’s shoulder and ushered her towards the hall.
The nuns and novices had raised alarm amongst the men. Half of them were already reaching for their weapons.
Bridget and the Abbess slammed the doors of the hall with an ominous thud.
“What is it?” Lord Uhtred demanded.
“Danes. Outside.”
Every man was on his feet in an instant, and the sound of unsheathed swords rang through the hall.
“How many Danes?” The Irishman asked.
Bridget faltered. She hadn’t thought to count them. “More than twenty. Less than fifty.”
A few men moved towards the doors and the windows, but Lord Uhtred ordered them to hold for the time being.
He turned to Bridget. “Do you know what they want?”
“He asked for Lady Aethelflaed.”
“But they may not know we are here,” he said to his men.
“They know someone is here,” Osferth’s voice came. He was still sat at the table and had not drawn his sword.
“But they have hostages,” Bridget said. “They killed one man and they have two more.”
“We remain inside, and we remain silent,” Uhtred ordered, coming towards Bridget and the Abbess. “They must believe you are unprotected,” he said.
He looked between them for a moment, and turned back to Bridget. “Would you speak with them?”
Her heart must have stopped for a moment. “What?”
“We cannot save the hostages, but you can save the lives of the men and women here.”
“And Aethelflaed,” Osferth added.
“You must deny she is here; convince them you have nothing to offer.”
Her restlessness was starting to feel like fear, but she understood Lord Uhtred’s plan, and she could not say why, but she was inclined to trust him.
Until the Abbess interjected. “No!”
Bridget’s heart sank a little. “Abbess, I can do it—”
“No, child, this is my house. This will be my responsibility.” She turned to Lord Uhtred. “I will do it.”
Bridget followed Uhtred and some of the other men into the entrance hall. She stood by one of the windows, out of sight of the Danes, occasionally stealing glances of the Abbess as she stepped out to attempt a negotiation.
“We know him,” a voice muttered beside her. She looked up to see Osferth’s jaw hovering over her. “His name is Haesten.”
The Abbess made her plea for mercy.
In turn, a second man had his throat slit.
“Deny her presence again and a third man dies. And I will burn down your nunnery, and everyone in it.”
Bridget placed her hand on her throat. She could feel her heart pulsing.
A hand gently came onto her shoulder, but Osferth said nothing. His hands were larger than she realised. It wasn’t exactly calming, but she liked it.
True to the words of the Dane, the third man was slain, and when the Abbess reached for an axe she was met with a spear to her chest.
Bridget flinched into Osferth’s chest, keeping her hands over her eyes.
“Aethelflaed!” Haesten cried. “How many more men and women must die to save your bony arse?”
“To the hall,” Osferth said, taking one of her hands in his.
When she glanced once more out the window, Haesten and his men were moving past the bodies of the hostages and the Abbess, towards the doors.
Bridget, Osferth and Aethelflaed gathered the nuns and novices to the back of the hall, while Uhtred and his men lined up behind the doors with shields, spears and swords.
“Will you not fight?” Bridget asked Osferth.
“I told you, I am not much of a warrior,” he said solemnly, as he and Lady Aethelflaed positioned themselves before the others.
Bridget frowned, but tried to distract herself by whispering assurances to some of the younger girls.
When the doors finally burst open she felt utterly helpless. The fighting was kept by the doors and the entrance hall, while Osferth and Lady Aethelflaed watched with their swords drawn.
And when two of the Danes broke through the line protecting the door, they moved together. Lady Aethelflaed fought better than the monk, she thought.
She watched as a third man fought through, overwhelming Osferth while Aethelflaed was still preoccupied.
Bridget couldn’t stop herself. She darted towards the table and grabbed a knife. She supposed the man could have easily turned to her and lodged his axe in her chest, but he didn’t get a chance to even look at her before she rammed the knife into his neck, sending a spray of blood through the air.
The rest of the room was a haze. Something warm and wet landed on and dripped down her cheek.
Suddenly she felt two hands against her shoulders. She blinked.
Osferth’s blue eyes were glaring at her. “That was foolish,” he said.
Three men lay dead on the floor. Swords continued to clash in the entrance hall but Haesten and his men were retreating.
Osferth and Aethelflaed moved out to join Uhtred, while some of the nuns came to wipe the blood from Bridget’s face.
She told them of the Danes and the Abbess’ death. Some of the girls cried, some prayed. She came to clutch her own cross around her neck. But her hands would not stop shaking and her heart would not rest.
She killed a man. Really, it hadn’t been much harder than slaughtering a pig, but at least it felt a little more justified.
If the Abbess were not dead, she would have screamed at her, told her she was ungodly, no better than a cold-blooded murderer, or any of the Danes who ravaged villages and stole from innocent Mercians.
They stayed huddled in the hall until dusk, when Lord Uhtred seemed to finally come to a resolution.
The woman with the markings on her face, Skade, was a seer, and Haesten agreed to take her in Aethelflaed’s place.
Bridget watched the exchange from the doors to the main hall, and a shiver slipped down her spine when Skade turned to Uhtred with a dark look in her eyes.
“You are cursed once more, Uhtred of Bebbanburg.”
Bridget had hardly slept that night. She lay eyes closed, still in her robes and the white headscarf she wore under her habit, listening to the gentle snores of the girls in the beds around her and aware of the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed.
The moment she heard the first whistle of birdsong at dawn, she was up. She pulled on a pair of boots and looked around her bed. But it occurred to her she owned nothing, save for her little silver cross.
She hurried through the abbey, past the open doors of the hall, now empty.
The men were outside, securing their saddles and mounting their horses.
She spotted Lord Uhtred as he was helping Lady Aethelflaed pack her own mount.
Osferth was by his horse, talking to the Irishman.
“Lord Uhtred!” Bridget called over the noise of the horses.
He turned to her with a small smile. “Fear not, we have not emptied your food stores—”
“I want to come with you,” she said.
She had the attention of the others now.
Uhtred chuckled to himself. “I already have a stray monk, I have no need for a little novice.”
Bridget’s skin still felt strange where it had been stained with blood. “I fought better than him.”
“Not a particularly high standard,” the Irishman joked. Osferth’s head sunk, but he was smirking too.
“So you killed one man and now you offer yourself as a warrior?” Uhtred asked.
Her breath caught in her throat as she finally realised the ridiculousness of her proposition. She could swing a branch, cut firewood and bury a knife into an unsuspecting man, but that would hardly help her in a true battle.
“With practice, perhaps?” She said, pressing her nails into her palm. “But I have some skills as a healer also. I’ve assisted the Abbess with all sorts of ailments, no doubt you encounter your fair share of injuries?”
“She’s got spirit, Uhtred, at least give her that,” Aethelflaed said.
“Please,” Bridget said, “give me the chance and I will prove myself to you.”
They each shared a few pointed glances.
“I admire your determination, but I cannot bring a girl onto the battlefield against armies of Danes. I cannot guarantee your protection and I cannot even offer you a horse.”
“Lord? She can ride with me,” Osferth said quietly. “With your permission of course. I can look out her.”
Uhtred raised his eyebrows. “Very well.”
Bridget felt herself smile, wide and showing off her top row of teeth. It felt uncomfortable but she didn’t try to stop herself.
The others were already starting to move off as she approached Osferth as he stroked the nose of his horse.
“Have you ridden before?” He asked.
“No.”
“You’ll sit behind me; I’ll help you up.”
Bridget nodded.
She watched as he placed his left foot in the stirrup and swung his leg over to the other side. “Easy,” he insisted, holding out his hand to her. “Don’t be afraid to use your strength.”
She followed his movements as best she could, but her skirt wouldn’t allow her to bring her leg to the other side of the saddle. She fell back onto her feet with a disgruntled huff.
“Other foot then, and slot both legs onto one side of the saddle.” He held out his hand again. “Ready?”
“Wait.” Bridget looked back to the space around her. The stream, the woods, the doors to the place that had never really felt like home. She reached for her headscarf and pulled it off her head, letting it fall to the ground. She didn’t suppose she would have any use for it now. Her hair fell down her back in a messy braid.
She looked back up at Osferth, between his hand, his eyes, and briefly to the curve of his upper lip. She held his hand tightly and hauled herself up onto the horse, her arms and legs trembling slightly at the effort.
Once the horse was settled Osferth gave it a gentle kick and they began to move. Bridget latched onto his shoulders as they began to sway with the movement.
“What if I fall off?” She asked, suddenly horrified at the prospect.
“You won’t fall off,” Osferth said, “use your thighs.”
“What?”
“Grip with your thighs,” he said.
She did so instinctively. Something about it felt… strange.
They cantered to catch up with the group and Bridget gripped Osferth’s shoulders a little tighter. Until he took one of her hands and placed it on his waist, so she wouldn’t impede on his arms. She muttered an apology and unsurely placed her other hand around him.
A few days ago she hadn’t so much as spoken to a man in years, except an incident where a nearby farmer had broken his leg, and even then she only wordlessly assisted the Abbess to bandage his limb.
Now she had her arms around a man’s torso, close enough to feel his warmth from under his winter cloak as her body rocked against his back.
“You’re frozen,” Osferth said, briefly brushing his thumb over her hand.
“It’s winter.”
“Did you not have anything warmer to wear?”
“We don’t attach ourselves to material items,” she said in a mockingly wistful voice.
He huffed a small laugh and pulled the horse to a stop before swinging his leg around the its head, landing on the ground in one smooth movement.
He undid the clasp on his cloak and held it up to her.
“Thank you,” she said, wrapping it around her shoulders, “but I don’t want you to get cold.”
He mounted again, a little awkwardly with Bridget already in the saddle. “Hold it around me. We can keep each other warm.”
She shuffled closer into him. Osferth brought one hand off the reins and pulled the corner of the cloak around his arm as Bridget settled against his back, resting her head at the base of his neck.
Thank God he couldn’t see her as her cheeks started to burn against the cold and the snow.
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joyburble · 5 months
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The Swords
So I was watching, as you do, some videos by some very charming and passionate martials arts practitioners comparing and contrasting various designs of sword and their usage. And I remembered that I had vaguely, perhaps subconsciously, noticed something strange about the magical swords used in this show.
The first one we see is the Hellfire sword which Dongfang Qingcang materialises as he calls Shangque.
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It's straight, with no curve to the blade at all, and both edges appear to be sharp. It's basically cross-shaped, with a large, decorated cross-guard extending parallel with both edges. And it has a fairly large roundish pommel, by which he holds it:
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I think I semi-consciously noticed that this looks a lot more like a European longsword, except that it's not all that long. Chinese swords are usually curved, even if only slightly, are usually sharp on one side only, and usually have disc-shaped handguards. [Edit! see reblogs for information on jians, which are straight and double-edged but with tiny crossguards] They sometimes have pommels, but the kind you see in the Wuxia genre generally doesn't.
So I thought, is this one of the subtler ways in which they're setting out to make Dongfang Qingcang and the Moon Tribe seem a little bit foreign and therefore barbarous, "not-Han-coded", as someone on Discord put it?
But then I checked the other swords, and that's not it.
Changheng's is a bit ambiguous. It has a pronounced cross-guard, less elaborate but more fantastical - it seems to be thinking about morphing into a 16th-century European basket hilt, as that downturned curve wouldn't work to catch your opponent's blade, but it isn't quite there yet:
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The blade also looks very straight, and we don't see the prop without the CGI for long enough to tell whether it's meant to be sharp on both edges. It might be more of a sabre, a design that pops up in martial arts traditions everywhere.
The third sword we see is Lady Chidi's battle sword, which is the same basic design as Dongfang Qingcang's:
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As you can see in the closeup, it's cross-shaped, double-edged, straight, and symmetrical, with a pronounced pommel, a long hilt for two hands, and a large cross-guard parallel to the edges.
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This shape is important, because scale is an optional setting for powerful immortal beings, and she will soon turn it into this mountain, with the cross-guard becoming a very convenient platform for conversation and sunbathing:
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The other plot-relevant sword, in Episode 31, is the same cross-shape, with a really big cross-guard and a fairly pronounced pommel.
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However! Intriguingly, to spar with Ronghao in the illusion-forest in Episode 32, Chidi uses a very simple blade, straight, but with neither cross-guard nor pommel, like a civilised Chinese lady:
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It might be double-edged or single-edged, I can't tell, but it has virtually no hand guard at all, not even a round one like a katana:
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But when in a later scene Ronghao confesses, it is her own, true sword she drops, as a sign that things are getting simultaneously more magic and more real:
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In Ep34, she uses it to kill some unfortunate pikemen:
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Meanwhile, back in Ep 16, Yannu's sword was the same plot-relevant shape, like Dongfang Qingcang's, and she holds it like a medieval warrior saint looking down from a Gothic arch:
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He held it the same way when Shangque greeted him in Episode 2.
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Danyin's sword, when she manifests it, is in a rather modest and perhaps youthful style. Still straight and symmetrical, but with a very small, sharply hooked cross-guard:
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When Dieyi's whip-chain-flail-thing turns into a sword, it's even more European - it looks very like a rapier with a basket hilt! Kind of appropriate to her general look, actually, and her street-fighting personality.
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When she changes stance we see this bonkers wiggly blade, which looks still rapier-ish (long, pointed, thrust more than cut), only insane. She doesn't use it like a rapier, though.
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Ronghao's sword for killing is a curious design, still straight and with a pommel, but this curious sort of vestigial, bulbous thing that isn't really a guard of any kind. I don't know what's going on with this but the shape is a little bit like Theoden's sword in Return of the King. Not quite.
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However, when Chidi eventually attacks him, they both use their simple sparring blades again:
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Anyway! I was surprised to discover how nearly all of the swords used in this particular show visually followed styles I am familiar with both from western drama and from western historical collections, and none of them, except the ones in that last shot, looked at all like the most common styles of sword you see in Chinese dramas.
Obviously the weapons function exactly like the costumes in that they're primarily artistic visual references to various moods and ideas, rather than functional objects, but I think that makes this choice even more interesting. I don't know how usual it is for this genre, or what it means.
I haven't found where, if at all, we see Xunfeng or Shanque use a sword, and it's long past my bedtime so I'm stopping there.
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ruhorih4ra · 5 months
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Hello again! 🐏 This is part 13! It contains violence, angst and horrible descriptions of horrible things (why can't I word things better you ask? I'm tired af, my brain is done.)
You may find lots (and I mean it, lots) of grammatical mistakes and inconsistencies (me translating a sentence in spanish to english even tho I don't know if it makes sense xDD upsi).
Get out of my way 🌈
You remembered everything at once, their faces, your own feelings of agony. There was an essential question waiting to be answered. Are these little D.’s here because of your corrupted soul or, maybe, have you been corrupted because of them? Does it really matter? You looked at your hands and then at Lilith, she seemed angry.
“Five times this week!! You couldn't be satisfied with any of them!” You didn't like the sound of that. “What are you implying?!” you asked. Lilith didn't hold back, too emotional after having remembered her brothers’ faces of anguish. “You want to hurt them!! That little demon of greed appeared because you can't get enough, no amount of suffering can satisfy you!! You want to hurt them to the point of no return!!” Each word pierced you more than the previous one, you felt caged between the wall and the sword. You had no shield and Lilith was merciless.
“That's not true.” you said, your voice barely perceptible. “Oh but it is! I begged you to stop!” The former angel wanted to say more but noticed the eerie silence and lugubrious atmosphere. She looked at you and guilt washed her over, you had paled and tears streamed down your face. “Mc, no... I'm sorry. Mc I-”
“Is it true, Lilith? Did they try to hurt our brothers?” Both you and Lilith looked towards the voice, Lucifer's voice.
You hadn't noticed how the Little D.s' chattering stopped, now all of them stood up impersonating the brothers. They were looking at you from their place, a few meters away, standing still in complete silence, with their eyes looking through you. “It's getting cold, we should go home.” You tried to ignore them but something felt wrong.
They seemed dangerous, you felt like a prey under their gaze. “Go home? I thought you didn't want to be part of our family? You don't have a home, do you? Not here.” Lucifer said. You knew he wasn't the real one, but it was getting harder and harder to tell. “Hey! Shut up and go back to your nonsense!” Lilith put a brave front, even though she felt weaker than ever before. “They tried to kill Belphie, Lilith!” Beelzebub said. “I Would never do that, Beel!” you replied. Lilith's eyes widened in desperation. “No, no, no!! He's NOT Beel!”
You couldn't even think about moving, your figure engulfed by darkness on a night with no moon. From behind you felt Mammon's breath and his voice whispering in your ear. “Mc? Is it okay now?” You turned around swiftly and Mammon revealed the figure of Leviathan with his mouth severely sewed. He was paler than usual, and the bruises around the stitches gave him an even worse look.
“Levi!!” you pushed Mammon away and warily took Leviathan's arms, caressing his face and tenderly touching his now half scarred lips. “No, no, Levi! Oh my god, Leviathan! Why did you do this?!”
“Mc! He’s not Leviathan, he’s a Little D!” Lilith screamed.
“Hmmf morm.” Levi tried to answer, both the stitches and the blood prevented it. “Shhh!! Don't talk!! Let me help you.” tears running down your face, the tremor of your hands equalling the one in your voice. “May the vestiges of pain that linger within the demon before me be eliminated."
Suddenly, Leviathan forced his mouth open, breaking the stitches and covering you with blood. “For you, Mc. I did it for you.” Shock crossed your face and your mouth dropped.
Lilith stared in horror at your worried figure, to her it was obvious that you couldn’t properly distinguish between her brothers and the Little D.s "MC! Levi is safe. He’s not here!” She walked towards you, but before she could reach you, the Little D. of Pride in the shape of Lucifer took her hand, “I have to thank you, dear sister.” Lilith only watched Lucifer, clearly confused. “What do you mean?”
Lucifer laughed before exhaling a satisfied sigh. “We wanted to push them, we wanted to press all their buttons.” He watched intently to Lilith as his smile grew wide. “But who would have guessed? It was you who did it first, our little sister.” Lilith couldn’t shake Lucifer’s grip, couldn’t escape his eyes. She turned her gaze to you, screaming to get your attention. “Mc! Run!”
You cast spell after spell, but Leviathan’s wounds didn’t heal, on the contrary, they got worse. “Levi, don’t worry, it’ll be okay.” You felt Levi’s blood on your face and the smell filled your nostrils. “Your words can’t cure me, they only make me worse.” He said, and you sobbed, trying to speak but only three words came out. “I’m sorry, Levi.” Your tears mixed with the fake blood of the Little D. of envy, if you weren’t so distraught you would have noticed how the eyes of the little demon glowed with joy and amusement.
“Mc! They are the Little D.’s! Mc!” Lilith shouted with all her will, but it was useless. Your unfocused eyes, your shallow breathing, your red and swollen eyes. “Forget it, Lilith. It's too late for them, you couldn't save them, neither you nor your brothers, not even the prince, no one.” Lucifer said.
“Mc?” Beelzebub touched your arm, momentarily distracting you from Levi’s injuries. “Beel?” You replied, narrowing and rubbing your eyes. “Do you know where Belphie is?” Beel asked. Suddenly you did not hear a sound, you saw Lilith scream but everything was in complete silence. You felt your ears clog and an oppressive atmosphere. Beelzebub grabbed your forearm and squeezed it until you screamed. “Ahhh Beel! Stop!” But his grip tightened, his mouth inches away from your ear. “I obeyed you but I’m still hungry.” Your breath was caught in your throat while your heart fought to escape your rib cage. “W-what?” You murmured before hearing a loud thump at your feet. Slowly, your eyes looked at the object that had fallen.
You wanted to scream, to let out the most horrible, painful scream you had ever heard. Instead, no words came out of your mouth. Only the failed attempts to breathe, only tears running down your face. A million shards of glass stabbing your heart, but you couldn’t even move, as Belphie’s head rolled until his lifeless eyes met yours.
“MC! LOOK AT THEM, LOOK AT HIS EYES! THOSE ARE NOT MY BROTHER’S EYES!!” You heard Lilith’s voice like a soft echo even though you knew she was screaming. You wanted to believe her, but right there, looking straight at Belphegor’s eyes, it was clear to you. Belphie’s purple eyes were looking at you, it was him. Not the completely black eyes of a Little D. but the soft purple color and the speck of pink that fades in between. But if they had color that meant that… no, it couldn’t be real.
“Mc!” Lilith shook off Lucifer’s grip and ran towards you, you tried to meet her halfway, weakly raising your hand towards her, but she vanished before you could touch her. A white mist surrounded you, with the fading voice of Lilith calling you. “L-Lilith?” You could not see a thing, your eyes looked into the white fog searching for anything. Unexpectedly, Asmodeu’s face appeared in front of you. Eyes out of his sockets and a smile from ear to ear. “Booh!”
“AAAHHHHHHH!!” you ran into the woods, no matter if you were blindly running into the night, away from the path and safety you knew. Anything was better than this.
Lucifer had gone to a meeting with Diavolo, they were drinking and he was on his second drink of demonus. He wouldn’t be lying if he said he couldn’t stop thinking about you for even a minute. Where were you? Would you ever forgive them? Was it too late for him?
He yearned for your presence, your laugh and the comfort of your smile pressed against his lips. “I should go now, Diavolo.” he tried to get up but a sharp pain shot through his chest, right where the mark of your pact it’s located. Diavolo hadn't heard Lucifer's groans of pain in a while, he was at his friend's side in seconds. “Lucifer!? What's happening!?” The Avatar of pride tore his shirt in a feeble attempt to ease the pain, he looked everywhere searching for you. You were calling him, he could feel you all over the place and then nowhere. “Lucifer!?” Diavolo's voice carried urgency, he could smell the burning skin of Lucifer.
“M-mc is in danger.” Lucifer murmured, trying to breathe. Diavolo cast a glance towards Barbatos, but it was not necessary as the butler was already on his way.
Mammon was laying on your bed waiting for your return when the pain hit him, his chest burning and his back arching painfully until his knees touched his forehead. Although it was paralyzing, Mammon changed into his demon form and quickly left the house of lamentation, frantically looking into the darkness of the devildom’s night. “MC!!!” His voice was desperate, loud and frantic. “Treasure!!” The pain increased and forced him to fall on his knees, but he never stopped calling your name.
Satan watched how Asmodeus’ eyes widened just to quickly close again, how the pupils of the demon of lust dilated as he tried to breathe. “Mc!” Asmo gasped, before falling abruptly. “Asmo!” Satan squatted down but the feeling of your burning pact stopped him, his mind became blurry and from one moment to the next the only thing in his field of vision was the ground. “We have to help them! We…”
You couldn’t see anything, the branches hit your face and scratched your skin to the point of bleeding, but that didn’t stop you. Your legs burned from the effort, you weren’t aware of how much you ran but it didn’t feel like it was enough. “I’m sorry Lucifer!” you screamed, but it wasn’t as loud as you wanted, you were out of breath and the cold air was painful to breathe. “I’m sorry, Levi!” You said. Your legs couldn’t run anymore, but you kept walking, pushing your limits. “I’m sorry, Belphie!” You murmured, no longer moving. “I’m sorry.” You cried.
“I’m sorry, Belphie!” The eyes of the avatar of sloth opened, was it because of the nightmare? Was it because of the intolerable pain in his chest? He didn’t care, he was awake and you weren’t there. He tried to move, but it was impossible, something similar to sleep paralysis. “Mc!!” he cried. “Beel!” he tried again. When he managed to move, the first thing he saw was his twin gasping form, unable to move or pronunce a word. Beelzebub didn’t need to say a word for Belphie to understand, they were feeling the same, you were on danger. You were here with them, you were far away, gone.
Leviathan felt a burning sensation in his chest, fire blazing his skin. However, when he sensed your pact, he felt cold. As if the water seeped into his lungs and sank him into the ocean, cold and alone. And above all that, you. You asking for his help from the surface. “Mc?” Your call through the pacts grew in intensity and the pain did the same.
You wanted to call them, to say sorry and speak the truth. You wanted them to come for you, but at the same time you were afraid. Afraid because you had their lives in your hands and they were ready to give in. No, you couldn’t call them even if that’s what you desired the most.
Something moved behind you, you tried to fight but you were too slow to react. Too slow and too weak, your legs could no longer support you and you fell, who knows where.
Part 14? ಠ⁠_⁠ಠ
Taglist: @yuumaofc @kodasstar @sadlily1 @asmolover1234 @gallantys @prefesro @urminebutidontwantyou @fiveofspades @owl778 @unknownbish101 @pinkvelvetcake1 @bontensbabygirl
Thanks for reading! ʕ⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴥ⁠ꈍ⁠ʔ I do have something else to say. I have to prepare for my finals and so I won't be able to update for at least a month ಥ⁠‿⁠ಥ Having said that... Mc is fine y'all (maybe???), next part it's 75% comfort (maybe?? xD), see you!! (⁠人⁠ ⁠•͈⁠ᴗ⁠•͈⁠)
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howtofightwrite · 1 year
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Do you know what this style of blocking is called? Or even how to describe it? I'm not sure "holding sword parallel and using other hand to support it" covers the action.
Take this with a grain of salt, because I can't find the references right now, but I think that's just, bracing. Gripping the blade of the sword is often called, “halfhanding,” but by itself the term is usually associated with gripping the blade to assist with precision thrusts. (So, trying you'd halfhand your sword to thrust into a weak point or gap on your foe's armor.) Parrying, or blocking with a sword like this is a little unusual, and (without the full context of the original image) I almost wonder if this is an example of something you shouldn't do.
Now, with the image's detail as low as it is, it might be illustrating a very specific technique. In the case of single edged swords, the, “best,” place to parry an incoming strike is with the back of the blade. Where you've got a heavy chunk of relatively solid metal, without the danger of taking a blow on the flat of the blade. (I can't really tell, but it does look like the defender is wielding a falchion, which were single edged swords. That would also date this image to somewhere between the 13th and 16thcentury. Which, at glance seems right, but I wouldn't swear to that estimate. The design of the falchion would put it later on that spectrum. The design of the attacker's sword seems consistent somewhere in that timeframe as well, but it's genuinely difficult to judge, and while I know I've seen this picture before, I cannot remember where.)
On double edged swords, like the attacker is wielding, the best option for parrying an incoming strike is with the flat. Obviously, that's not ideal, because blows to the side of the blade do risk damaging it, especially when it's halfhanded like this and your opponent is performing a heavy hewing strike as depicted, but that's a risk. If you try to block or parry edge-to-edge, you will damage your sword, without fail. (Also, if you try to block an incoming attack edge-on-edge while halfhanding, you will injure your hand.) If you do attempt to block or parry edge-on-edge both swords will suffer damage called, “gouging.”
Remember that a sword is, basically a three to four foot long razor blade. So, while the blade itself is a relatively solid chunk of steel, the cutting edge is quite delicate and fragile. Gouging on the blade occurs whenever the sword is used against something significantly harder than a person (and can even occur from striking bone.) Abusing your sword will destroy it, and the conventional image of blade-on-blade parrying is extremely destructive to the weapons involved. This almost never occurred historically, and when it did it was either an act of desperation or incompetence.
That image of blade-on-blade parrying comes from theater. Ironically, flat edged props are much more durable than real swords, and blade-on-blade parrying is much easier and safer on stage than the historical swordfighting techniques they stood in for.
While it's not the case in this image, some specific swords (intended for combat) existed with unsharpened blades. The most famous of these is probably the Estoc (or Tuck.) These did not always have sharpened edges, and even when they did, that wasn't the important part of the weapon. Dating to the 16thcentury, these were designed to deliver thrusting blows that could (hopefully) punch through gaps in a foe's plate armor. In this specific case, blocking edge-on-edge (or even half-handing the weapon) wouldn't matter, because there was no delicate blade, (only the tip was sharpened.) Some surviving Estocs even have heavy ridges running down the flat of the blade, giving it a cross-shaped (or, in some cases, triangular) cross-section. This was specifically to improve the structural integrity of the sword while thrusting. Though it would mean that you could probably block or parry an incoming attack as depicted in the image while wielding one (though, neither of the swords in the image are estocs.) In this specific case, there wouldn't even be much downside to edge-on-edge blocking, because the estoc is unlikely to suffer meaningful damage, while the attacker's blade will likely suffer gouging.
So, if this was intended as a depiction of something you should be doing, I suspect it was to demonstrate how to parry an incoming sword strike with a falchion. Historically, falchions tended to be fairly cheap infantry weapons so this may have been intended for teaching conscripted infantry. With the image itself being for the instructor's benefit more than the conscript's. A lot of the surviving codices of late medieval and early modern sword combat were intended for professional combat instructors. So, it is reasonable to assume that this image is from one of these sources.
-Starke
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adeptune01 · 1 year
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alright sorry to go on a supernatural rant in 2023 but...
it makes me feel insane.
Not to beat a dead horse or anything but like destiel will be it for me. Nothing else will ever compare to it. Like a man is raised by an absent father- a father who demands to be obeyed without question. A father who praises guilt, who tells the man that he is his brother's keeper. That he is responsible for all of his actions and those actions affects on others. The weight of the world is on his shoulders and he must bear it alone.
This man, the one that is single-handedly trying to save himself along with everyone he's ever crossed paths with, fails. He sacrifices himself to save his brother and he dies. He's sent to hell, a land of eternal punishment. 'No less than I deserve' he probably thinks.
But then he is saved. Not because of anything he's done. Not because of a deal he or his brother or his father has made. He is saved by a cosmic being of unfathomable power because of his nature which has been deemed by THEE Abrahamic God as being fundamentally good. The man who has hated himself his whole life for not being enough, not doing enough, is declared to be good.
And he feels guilty as hell. He didn't deserve this. Of those hundreds of people he's helped over the years...one of them...ANY of them is better than him. If he's God's strongest soldier then God is going to lose. He is going to fail God just like he failed his own father.
The man spirals while the heavenly power that saved him watches from afar. The power understands the man. He understands what it's like to hold Father to the highest esteem. He understands what it's like to blindly follow orders, hoping for the best. He also understands that the man has the brightest hope-filled soul he has ever seen.
So the power decides to help, and to do so he breaks away from the rest of heaven's contingency. He grows into his name- Castiel. The shield of God (I am not joking that is what Castiel means), created to protect humanity. AND become a pair with the Michael Sword- the man who believes he is unworthy- DEAN.
Through the years- DECADES- there's ups and downs. Divots and cracks in the Almighty's plans. But nothing they can't handle. They grow close and become more than allies in the fight against ghastly horrors beyond comprehension, they become best friends.
They have wild west movie marathons in the basement room designated as Dean's own "Fortress of Deanitude". They hang out late at night at crappy diners eating crappy pie. They go out cruising the town. They listen to the same music. They play pranks on each other. They learn about and remember each other's interests.
Their relationship grows deeper.
They fight. They lie. They attempt to kill each other. They raise a son together. They try to mentor a daughter. They leave. They come back. They mourn. They celebrate.
Together.
Two beings- one human, one angel- who were alone- whose defining characteristic was who their fathers were- prove that it's possible to break free from predestination, from circumstance. Their love, first as friends, then as something more, is as strong as the force that binds the universe- stronger, even.
And then they die.
Separately. Both convinced that the one thing they've wanted, the unnamed thing they've been fighting for, is the one thing they can't have. Because their fathers said so.
Despite everything, in the end, their fathers won. Dean died on the job he couldn't quit from an accident he couldn't help. Cas died obeying the first and most important commandment his Father gave him- to love and protect humanity.
THAT story is what I will never be able to get over. Not mentioning the gothic Americana aesthetic, the clear Protestant 'for by faith' message, the criticism of hyper-masculinity, the exploration of the 'American Dream'.....
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kyokutsu-sama · 4 months
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Hey I'm the same one who asked for the sleepy reader and I was so happy when I saw you do i
So if it's not a bother I have one more request, The captains react to a reader who's a hollow but still retains their human memories, no rush, thanks again for replying to my last request ☺️🥰💞
A/n : Hi 😊I hope you are well and that you liked the previous request I wrote. Here I wrote as if the reader were like a hybrid, half human and half hollow. I hope you like❤️ (I wrote to the same captains as the previous request)
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Shunsui :
He is impressed by the way you can be a box of surprises when you want. Especially because of your potential. Knowing that you have the power to become a hollow is something he didn't expect but it makes him alert when you do. He's afraid that you'll lose control of the transformation or that you won't make a distinction as to who is who and end up attacking him by mistake. Which is something he can't say when you're in human form, where he feels a little more relieved and safe. When he gains the courage to have this conversation with you and asks you if you know him while you are in hollow form. When you tell him that you won't forget him and that you keep your memories even if you change "a little", he sighs with relief and smile. He feels a little better now and at least he's sure you won't end up killing him. Just Shunsui being dramatic...
Kenpachi :
Most hollows that cross his path end up dying because they can't overcome the power of his sword, but you? You are strong in both ways, the only difference is that he wouldn't kill you for being a hollow. Even if you showed him your true nature, he is not scared (Come to think of it, who or what would scare this man?) but rather surprised to know this side of you. Be 100% sure that he calls you to fight him. Although he is eager to fight you in this form, he can't help but asking you if you have human memory even in that form and it was then that you explained to him that you don't lose your memories when you fight in your hollow form. He smiles and congratulates you on the fact that you can remember him, because he certainly won't forget you either.
Gin :
At first it's still hard to believe that you can achieve hollow form and look completely different than usual. He doesn't stop giving you a smile when you still look a little angry when you return to human form, he's a tease. Fear is something that he also doesn't leave aside when you enter the battlefield, he fears that you will attack him and what takes him later, in addition to filling you with jokes about the subject, asking you if you can recognize the his face when you turn into a big, angry hollow. You tell him that he doesn't have to worry about anything because you can recognize him and that your memories of your human form haven't disappeared, which makes him let out a sigh. Despite this, he still finds you a danger when you step onto the battlefield.
Jushiro :
He can't help but gape, surprised by your "darker side". His hollow transformation, right in front of him. He wonders how you managed to change your physical form and personality in a short space of time that still left him confused. Seeing you like this makes him question several things, such as: how did you do it? How can you do it and especially, do you remember him even though you are a hollow? When things settle down, he will ask you these questions and when you tell him that everything is fine because there was no way you would forget his gentle smile. He almost faints from relief and… from seeing your cute side again. Now don't forget to warn him first before transforming, as he will be worried. He's my cinnamon roll😭
Shinji :
Shinji thinks he's still in his world backwards and still tries to turn his head down just to make sure he's seeing what's in front of him. The surprise in his eyes when he sees you in such a different and unrecognizable form, he just smiles when he sees that deep down you are both the same. He doesn't feel afraid like others since he has a hollow part in him too, he himself will train you and give you advice about it. But he still want to know if you have memories of your human form when you become a hollow. He just wanted to make sure that you don't recognize him as an enemy and that he has to take you to task. You say you remember him and this makes him more discouraged towards you and your transformation.
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dantakeyoman · 9 months
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𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐎𝐑 | 𝐫. 𝐳𝐨𝐫𝐨
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♡ 𝐫𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐚 𝐳𝐨𝐫𝐨 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
♡ * "𝒚𝒐𝒖'𝒓𝒆 𝒂 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒚 𝒂𝒔𝒔, 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕? 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒍𝒘𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒆𝒏. 𝒚𝒐𝒖'𝒓𝒆 𝒎𝒆𝒂𝒏, 𝒚𝒐𝒖'𝒓𝒆 𝒍𝒐𝒖𝒅, 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒑𝒖𝒏𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒔 𝒉𝒖𝒓𝒕 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒉𝒆𝒍𝒍, 𝒚𝒐𝒖'𝒓𝒆 𝒅𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒎𝒚 𝒊𝒏𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒔 𝒕𝒘𝒊𝒔𝒕, 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒎𝒚 𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝒂𝒄𝒉𝒆, 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒎𝒚 𝒇𝒂𝒄𝒆 𝒉𝒐𝒕. …𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒊 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒌 𝒊 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒊𝒕." *
♡ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟, 𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬, 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭, 𝐠𝐨𝐫𝐞, 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲, 𝐬𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐰𝐰𝐰𝐰 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐧, 𝐞𝐭𝐜.
♡ * 𝒔𝒑𝒐𝒕𝒊𝒇𝒚 - 𝒑𝒐𝒗: 𝒖𝒓 𝒛𝒐𝒓𝒐'𝒔 𝒈𝒇 *
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𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘 - 𝐎𝐍𝐄
After traveling through the desert again, crossing the river, and meeting up with Karoo, the crew finally made it to Alubarna where it was time to take your stand.
The crew split up into groups of two in order to face off with the officer agents, and you, of course, were paired with the directionally-challenged swordsman.
海賊狩
"It's a straight path! How are you still wandering off?! This is the third time I've had to chase you down, you idiot!" You scolded the man, smacking him upside the head.
"Gah! Woman, will you quit it with the hitting?! I said I was sorry!" Zoro exclaimed, clutching his head painfully.
"Sorries start to lose their weigh the nth time you say 'em," you scoffed.
"Whatever," he rolled his eyes, "Where the hell are these officer guys, anyway?"
"Pfft. Up your butt and around the corner," you muttered under your breath.
"WHAT WAS THAT?!" 
"Aw, you two fight like an old married couple," an unfamiliar feminine voice smirked. 
Suddenly, a large, black man came out of nowhere, practically flying past you and aggressively clashing swords with Zoro, though his arms were the blades.
Their slashes reverberated, slicing through the stone column behind you.
"Holy shit," you marveled, wide eyed.
"Miss Double Finger...," the black man growled, side eyeing the blue haired woman before you as he continued to cross swords with Zoro.
"I know, I know, you want to eliminate him, don't you? You do as you please. I'll take care of the girl," she smirked.
"Don't be so sur-." Just as you held up your mace for an attack, she sent a spike from her finger right through it, creating a gigantic hole.
This woman created a gigantic hole in your mace.
"Too bad," she taunted with a smile, "Guess the run down thing's had some wear and tear throughout the years."
You went wide eyed as you looked at the gaping hole within your weapon, dropping to your knees with tearful eyes.
"(y/n)! (y/n)! I know I'm a little late for your birthday present, but I think this'll make up for it," Corazon smiled, walking up to you with a big smile as he hid something behind his back.
You cocked a brow, crossing your arms at the man, "Coraaaaa, it's 34 days late."
"I thought you couldn't count."
"I'M SEVEN NOT STUPID!"
"Ya look pretty stupid," Trafalgar teased from his spot next to the fire, smirking.
"Shaddup, Traffy!" You huffed.
"Well, late or not I think you'll really like this. Ya ready?" Corazon smiled.
You grinned, "Ready!"
He pulled a mace out from behind his back and plopped into your tiny little hands, it making a loud clank as you dropped it from the overwhelming weight.
"A weapon?" You asked, confused.
"Not just any weapon, the last known weapon from Taiyo. I know you hate not having something to remember your village by, so I wanted to get you something that you can always have with you," he cheesed.
Your eyes glossed over, and you looked down at the weapon, lip quivering.
"Is this why you were gone for so long?"
"Yeah. The guy selling it lives pretty far away. But look! It's in great condition, right? You just gotta be careful with the-." Before he could even finish you were already on him, tackling the poor man in a bear hug.
"What's wrong?! Ya don't like it?!"
"I can't believe...you did this for me, Cora. No one's ever done something so nice for me," you sobbed into his shirt, tightly clutching onto the strings of his hat.
His face of concern soon turned to one of relief.
"Of course I did, kiddo," he smiled, stroking your hair, "I care about you. I care about the both of you brats. Giving you a little something for your birthday's the least I could do. You just gotta promise me you'll take good care of it, alright? That thing's one of a kind."
You beamed from ear to ear, "I promise!"
'Cora......I...I'm so sorry. I didn't know...I didn't see her...I wasn't paying attention.'
"YOU BASTARD!" You screamed, making everyone, even Zoro, go wide eyed.
"YOU MONSTER! YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT SIGNIFICANCE THIS MACE HAS TO ME! AND YOU HAVE THE AUDACITY TO PUNCH A HOLE IN IT AS IF IT'S NOTHING!"
You voice was full of pain and hurt, and your breathing was heavy, almost panting.
"(y/n)..." Zoro muttered, utterly shocked.
He had never seen you explode in such a way.
"I'LL KILL YOU!" 
You quickly shot yourself at the woman winding up your fist for one monster punch, but the second it landed, you nearly bit your tongue off trying to muffle the scream that you wanted to let out.
She turned her face into spikes before you could truly land the punch. 
"(Y/N)!" Zoro shouted, eyes wide as you pulled your impaled hand off her face.
"Focus," the man, who you believed to be Mr. 1, tutted, pushing Zoro into another column
"Did I strike a nerve?" Double Finger smirked, taking a hit from her pipe.
"I'm gonna strike oil with your head," you spat, your glare and tone practically glacial.
You quickly sent an axe kick straight to her head, impaling your foot but also sending her smashing into the ground face first.
"Told you so."
A brilliant white light appeared on your hand and foot, your injuries magically gone by the time the light dimmed to nothing.
"Wha-? But how? What devil fruit do you have?" She asked, lifting her head slowly.
"Angel-Angel fruit," you smirked down at her.
"Remember it, bitch."
You broke off two large, sword-like feathers from your wings, holding them in a swordsman's stance.
"I suggest you start running," you warned, with a smile.
The woman quickly scrambled to her feet and turned herself into a spike ball, hedgehog-ing herself away as fast as she possibly could.
Calmly, you formed the feather sword into a spear, slowly taking your aim, before releasing it at near lightning speed, impaling her right through her side.
She let out a blood curdling scream, coming out of her spiky form but still making a run for it.
You narrowed your eyes, holding your arms as if you held a bow and arrow, until one constructed of solid, golden light appeared in your grasp with three arrows drawn.
"Let's try....spine, shoulder blade, and ribcage," you stated, closing one eye to make sure you lined it up just right
And sure enough, your arrows bulls-eyed each one.
Double Finger dropped to the floor in pain, writhing in agony as you took your time slowly flying your way over there.
Once you made it, you paused and watched her plead and beg for her life, rushed apologies and promises rushing out her mouth like water.
You scoffed.
"You chose  your fate the second you caused a lick of damage to my mace," you looked down at her, your eyes not showing a single shred of remorse for what was about to come.
You made a gigantic mace out of light and wound it up, bringing it down on top of her.
She shouted in pain, the sound no doubt echoing throughout the entire country.
When the mace dissipated, she was nothing but a bloody and bruised mess, most definitely down for the count
"Bitch," you spat, turning around and walking back over to where you left your mace.
Picking it up, you placed your hands on the damaged area, running your fingers over it.
'I'll never forgive her.'
That's when you remembered.
"Zoro!"
Quickly, you zipped over to where you saw his fight move. And there you saw his opponent face down in the dirt...but Zoro face down in the dirt as well.
"Zoro!" You exclaimed, flying over and landing on your knees next to him, placing his head in your lap.
He was soaked in blood from head to toe, and was completely still, making your eyes go wide with worry.
'Shit!'
That is, until he let out an annoyed groan.
"That guy....was.......a pain in the ass," he panted, opening his eyes to look up at the sky.
"IDIOT! YOU SCARED ME!" You shouted, half angry and half relieved.
"You okay?" He asked, weakly turning to you, his eyes giving you a quick once over to double-check.
"I heard a bunch of screaming earlier but I didn't have the strength to move."
"It was the woman I was fighting, actually," you smiled, wiping some blood about to dribble into his eye.
"But we gotta get you to Chopper, ASAP."
"There's no time," he waved off, trying to sit up, "We gotta get to the town square and help."
"Just let me heal you, then," you sighed, getting ready to press your hand on his chest.
Until he grabbed your wrist.
"But your promise? You told me that you promised someone you'd never use you power for someone else's gain," he strained, the last bit of his strength clearly used to stop you.
You smiled, your heart fluttering in your chest at the fact that he remembered something from so long ago.
"Of course I gain from healing you, Zoro. I care about you and I don't want to see you in pain," you assured, resting your hand on his cheek.
"So please, let me heal you."
The faintest dusting of pink rested on his cheeks, but luckily all his blood was covering it.
He nodded, turning away so you could do your work.
Smiling, you pressed your hand flat on his chest, allowing your brilliant white light to envelope him and all of his injuries.
And when your light dimmed, he was as good as new.
"I haven't done that...in 12 years," you sighed, flopping down into his arms.
"(y/n)?" He asked, slightly concerned.
"I need....a minute. Think you can....carry me for a bit?" You panted, allowing yourself to already start drifting asleep.
Zoro cracked a smile, hoisting you up on his back, "Yeah. Get some rest. I'll-."
He was interrupted by the sound of your loud snoring, and let out a quite chuckle.
"Get some rest. I'll keep you safe."
海賊狩
"TEN!"
"Mhmm," you groaned, nuzzling into Zoro's back
"NINE!"
"Hey, (y/n)," Zoro called, shrugging his shoulders to shake you awake.
"EIGHT!"
"What?" You groaned, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, realizing that there was a whole lot of commotion going on around you.
"SEVEN!"
"Sorry to interrupt your nap but could you throw that bomb away from the city. It's in the clock," he asked, pointing up to this clock tower where these two weirdly dressed people were shouting numbers.
"SIX!"
"Fine," you sighed, hopping off his back.
"FIVE!"
"Wait...."
"FOUR!"
"Woman, we don't have a lot of time! What is it?!"
"THREE!"
"You gonna get me a big bottle of sake for this?"
"TWO!"
"YES! YES! JUST GO DO IT, PLEASE! BEFORE WE ALL DIE!"
"ONE!"
"Done."
 You zipped up there in a blink, grabbing the bomb and flying straight up into the sky, letting it go off with a deafening BOOM!
All eyes went wide, including the ones of your crew.
"(Y/N)!!!" Everyone screamed.
"I TOLD HER TO HURRY UP!" Zoro exclaimed, tightly gripping his hair as he watched the ashy remains of the bomb fall from the sky.
His heart was in his throat.
This had to be a nightmare.
There's no way you were dead right now because of some damn sake.
Just then he heard a small sound. It was faint, but very distinct.
Like the sound of someone's laughter.
And as he looked closer at the falling debris, he saw something you-shaped falling fast.
And headed straight towards him.
He tried to run but it was too late. You had already landed on the poor man's back, laughing your ass off.
"Thanks for the cushion, Zoro," you smiled.
"WOMAN, GET THE HELL OFF ME!" He shouted, kicking his legs.
"HOW IN THE WORLD ARE YOU NOT DEAD?!" Nami, Usopp, and Vivi exclaimed in unison, shocked.
"Huh," you wondered, placing a finger on your chin. "Not too sure."
"(y/n)!" Chopper sobbed, jumping into your lap and crying into your shirt. "I thought you died!"
"It's alright, Chopper. I'm here now, see?" You pinched his cheek.
He sniffled, "I'm still gonna give you a check-up, just to be sure."
You cheesed, "Of course, doctor."
"That's my beautiful, kind, and strong (y/n)! Did you miss me, my loveeeee?" Sanji cooed, his arms doing the noodle thing they do.
"I STILL NEED YOU TWO TO GET THE HELL OFF ME!"
海賊狩
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