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samwisethewitch · 6 months

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What Non-Pagans Need to Know About Fiction Featuring Pagan Gods

In light of Marvel's Loki show dropping a second season and a new Percy Jackson series on the horizon, I want to say some things about how fandom spaces can be respectful of real-life pagan religion.

Let's get one thing out of the way: literally no one is saying you can't enjoy fiction that uses pagan gods and heroes as characters. No one is saying, "Stop writing stories about our gods." In fact, many ancient cultures wrote fiction about their gods -- look at Greek theater or the Norse Eddas. The act of writing fiction about the gods is not offensive in itself.

But please remember that this is someone's religion.

The gods are not "just archetypes." Their myths are not "just stories." Their personalities are not a matter of artistic interpretation. For many pagans, the gods are very much real in a literal sense. I don't think Thor is a metaphor or a symbol -- for me, Thor is a real, autonomous spiritual being who exists outside of human perceptions of him, and who I have chosen to build a relationship with. Even if you are a hardcore atheist, I would hope you could at least be respectful of the fact that, to many modern pagans, the gods are both very real and very important.

When authors are not respectful of this fact, they reduce the gods, these very real objects of worship, to fictional characters. And here's the thing about fictional characters: they are fundamentally tools for authors to use to draw a desired emotional response from an audience.

Dracula's personality and behavior is wildly different depending on who is writing him, because different authors use Dracula to create different reactions in their audiences. In the 1931 film starring Bela Lugosi, he's equal parts alluring and disturbing, a symbol of America's mixed desire and disdain for foreigners. In Nosferatu, he's more strictly frightening and disgusting. In Francis Ford Coppola's movie, he's a tragic, romantic figure clinging to the last scraps of his humanity. In Netflix's Castlevania, he's an incredibly powerful being who has grown bitter and apathetic in his immortality. All of this is Dracula, and all of it is fine, because Dracula is not and never has been a central figure in anyone's religion.

Let's take a look at what happens when authors give this same treatment to real gods:

In Hellenic polytheism, Apollo is one of the most beloved gods, both historically and today. Apollo loves humanity, and humanity loves him back. He is the god of sunlight and of medicine, but also of poetry and song. He is one of humanity's most consistent defenders when one of the other gods gets wrathful. And while he does have dangerous or wrathful aspects of his own (he's also the god of disease, after all), he's also kind and soft with humanity in a way other gods often aren't, at least in some historic sources.

In the Lore Olympus comic series, Apollo is a villain. He's characterized as an abuser, a manipulator, and a violent man child. LO!Apollo is downright hateful, because the author wants us to hate him. Lore Olympus is a retelling of a myth about an abduction and forced marriage. Lore Olympus is also a romance. In order to get the audience to sympathize with Hades and root for his relationship with Persephone, Rachel Smythe needed to make someone else the villain. Apollo is the most obvious and extreme character assassination in Smythe's work, but several other gods (notably Demeter) also get the asshole makeover to tell the story Smythe wants to tell.

Here's where this becomes a problem: Hellenic polytheism is a fairly small religious community, while Lore Olympus is a massively popular webtoon with 1.3 billion views as of August 2023, print books available from major retailers, a TV adaptation in the works, and a very active online fandom. Rachel Smythe currently has a MUCH bigger platform than any Hellenic polytheism practitioner. Smythe and other authors are shaping how modern culture views the Hellenic gods, and that has a very real impact on their worshipers.

This means "Apollo is an abusive asshole" is becoming a popular take online, and is even creeping into pagan communities. I've personally seen people be harassed for worshiping Apollo because of it. I've seen new pagans and pagan-curious folks who totally misunderstand the roles Apollo, Hades, and Persephone play in the Hellenic pantheon because of Lore Olympus and other modern works of fiction.

There are tons of other examples of this in modern pop culture, but I'll just rattle off a few of the ones that annoy me most: Rick Riordan depicting Ares/Mars as a brutish asshole hyped up on toxic masculinity; Rick Riordan depicting Athena as a mother goddess; Marvel depicting Thor as a dumb jock; Marvel depicting Odin as a cold, uncaring father; DC depicting Ares as purely evil; whatever the fuck the Vikings TV show was trying to do with seidr; the list goes on.

All of these are examples of religious appropriation. Religious appropriation is when sacred symbols are taken out of their original religious context by outsiders, so that the original meaning is lost or changed. It requires a power imbalance -- the person taking the symbols is usually part of a dominant religious culture. In many cases, the person doing the appropriation has a much bigger platform than anyone who has the knowledge to correct them.

When Rick Rioridan or Rachel Smythe totally mischaracterizes a Greek god to tell a story, and then actual Hellenic pagans get harassed for worshiping that god, that's religious appropriation.

Religious appropriation is a real issue. This isn't just pagans being sensitive. To use an extreme example: Richard Wagner and other German Romantic authors in the 19th century used the Norse gods and other Germanic deities as symbols in their work, which was a major influence on Nazi philosophy. Without Wagner, the Nazis would not have latched onto the Norse gods as symbols of their white supremacist agenda. To this day, there are white supremacist groups who claim to worship our gods or who use our religious imagery in their hate movement. We are still reckoning with the misinterpretation of our gods popularized by Wagner and other German Romantics almost 200 years ago.

Again, no one is saying you can't enjoy fiction based on pagan mythology. But there are a few things you can do to help prevent religious appropriation in fandom spaces:

Above all else, be mindful that while this may just be a story to you, it is someone's religion.

Recognize that enjoying fiction based on our gods does not mean you know our gods. You know fictional characters with the same names as our gods, who may or may not be accurate to real-life worship.

Do not argue with or try to correct pagans when we talk about our experience of our gods.

Don't invalidate or belittle pagan worship. Again, this mostly comes down to recognizing that our religion is totally separate from your fandom. We aren't LARPing or playing pretend. Our sacred traditions are real and valid.

If you see other people in your fandom engaging in religious appropriation, point out what they are doing and why it isn't okay.

Please tag your fandom content appropriately on social media. Always tag the show, movie, book, etc. that a post is about in addition to other relevant tags. This allows pagans to block these fandom tags if we don't want to see them and prevents fandom content showing up in religious tags.

For example, if I'm posting about Athena from the Percy Jackson books, I would tag the post #athena #athenapjo #percyjackson #pjo. You get the idea.

And if fiction sparks your interest and you want to learn more about the actual worship of the gods, you can always ask! Most pagans love talking about our gods and trading book recs.

If you are writing fiction based on real mythology, talk to people who worship those gods. Ask them what a respectful portrayal would look like. If possible, include a note in your finished work reminding audiences that it is a work of fiction and not meant to accurately portray these gods.

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lilacsupernova · 10 months

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In recent years, I've seen the erasure of lesbian and gay activists. And all the work we did for gay liberation is credited to two people: Sylvia Rivera and Marsha P. Johnson. Even statues are planned to be elected in honor of them in New York. These two are now hailed for having organized the Stonewall Riot and the GLF [Gay Liberation Front] and even the historic gay occupation of Wernstein Hall at New York University in protest against the administration's homophobia. All of this is false. I know, because I and the women and men I worked with were there.

Sylvia Rivera and Marsha P. Johnson are today widely celebrated as transgender people of color. However, Rivera identified as a transvestite male, not transgender. Malcolm, aka Marsha Johnson, was a self-proclaimed gay man, and drag queen, up until his death in 1992. Johnson deserves to be honored with respect and integrity, not rebranded as a 'trans-woman' postmortem. Johnson was probably transgender, though there was no such terminology at the time. Toward the end of his life he was considering raising funds to go abroad for what was then called a sex change surgery.

Nobody led the Stonewall Riots. It was a spontaneous uprising. Neither Rivera nor Johnson appeared on the scene until the riots were well underway. Neither Johnson nor Rivera attended any of the early meetings of GLF in July 1969. I was one of the founders, along with five other women and 13 men. Ellen Broidy and I were among those who called for the occupation of Wernstein Hall in September 1970. Johnson and Rivera were not present. They joined in after a group of us had already entered the building, and it was after the occupation that I first noticed them at GLF meetings. They were inspired by our Wernstein Hall action to start a new group, Street Transvestite Action Revolutionaries (STAR).

This was important work they did and how they should be remembered. Through STAR, Rivera and Johnson labored on behalf of homeless street queens who, like themselves, often had to support themselves through prostitution, often strove to overcome drug addiction, and often found themselves in trouble with the law. They provided shelter and counseling, and visited those in prison. They were heroes in their own right. But the false legends have been widely promulgated in the international press, and give them credit for the work of hundreds of others, and never ever mention what they actually accomplished. The city of New York has not built any statues to any of us lesbians or any of the gay men who were involved in GLF. Just those two are the heroes. Stormé DeLarverie who is considered responsible for starting the first Stonewall Riot on June 28, 1969, after a crowd reacted when she was arrested by police, was a woman of color and and butch lesbian. She didn't get a statue either.

These smaller fabrications are perhaps not as dangerous as the ones that lead to war. But what is dangerous is that, by depicting one or two chosen individuals as great leaders and expunging the rest of us from public memory, they strip us all of the knowledge that we ordinary human beings have made history and can do so again.

– Martha Shelley, 'An Honest History' in Not Dead Yet: Feminism, passion and women's liberation – Renate Klein & Susan Hawthorne (eds.), (pp. 379-80).

#martha shelley #marsha p johnson #sylvia rivera #storme delarverie #lgb #pride #usa #herstory #pride month #trans

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temp-propaganda · 13 days

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Lewis Smith should have everything he ever wants. he took the trauma of losing his parents as a kid, and his childhood special interest, and coalesced them in his personality to become a man who only wants to help.

he saved Isami from getting waterboarded. he tried to hide Lulu from the military because he knew they'd try to do the same to her, and he never contested that she was his responsibility after that. of course he would... she's a child in need.

he specifically doesn't want to get left behind while "the hero" goes off on their own and dies where he can't help them. so he fights Isami, to prove that he's strong enough to support him. he tells Isami that people will care if he dies, and he can't just shut everyone out, and try to shoulder this alone. and of course he'd say that... he recognizes the symptoms of stoic, self sacrificial heroism.

he never felt bitter about Isami being chosen as Bravern's pilot. I know a lot of us read his dwelling on Bravern rejecting him as forlorn pining or something, but it's more like... he knows there's a global crisis going on, and Isami was a mess after Lewis got him out of that horrible waterboarding session, and Lewis would really like to have the tools to do something. specifically, Bravern is exactly the type of hero that he used to derive such comfort from. of course he'd want to provide something like that to anyone who's sad or scared.

but very importantly: Lewis never felt bitter because he never saw Isami as undeserving. Lewis never had thoughts about how Isami couldn't do it as well as he could do it himself. Lewis instead views himself as the guy who needs to keep up. if he can't, then something might go wrong when he can't be there. Isami might find himself in danger, and alone. of course he'd never let something like that happen.

when Kunuth chooses to fixate on Lewis, it's because he has undisclosed feelings. feelings that could actually be selfish, if he let them. he wants to be special to Isami, but this whole time he's been trying to earn it. and now he's become "the hero" in the one way he never ever wanted to be. he's become the kind of hero that leaves his loved ones behind and never returns. of course he'd never accept it.

becoming Bravern allows Lewis to shine in ways he always wanted to, but never thought he could. his theme song, his attack names, his logo, his upgrades... the way he presents himself as someone you can always come and talk to... he even tries to give his enemies a chance to talk, and hears them out, because he's that type of saturday morning cartoon hero. he wants to help. he wants to comfort people, and tell them that everything will be okay. he's Bravern. of course he'd do this.

and he finally gets to tell Isami that he loves him... but only after Isami chooses him back. he tells Superbia to live, because of course he'd do that. that's everything he's ever wanted to tell anyone he cares for at all. and when he seems like he's going to die for real, it takes the kind of hero that he's always believed Isami could be, to bring him back for real. Isami chose to want him, love him, and save him. and having the power to do that is the absolute best, isn't it? Lewis always thought so. and he's always ended up casting Isami in the role that he would've wanted, and then tried his very best to support that. it's no surprise that this worked.

#bang brave bang bravern #yuuki bakuhatsu bang bravern #lewis smith #isami ao #bravern

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undead-supernova · 3 months

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HIGH TOLERANCE

Part 4 / Part 5

Masterlist

warnings: mostly warning free outside of alcohol consumption, arguments, a hint of spice, and emergency cigarettes

pairings: bestfriend!modern!eddie x fem!reader

plot: sometimes you just gotta clear the smoke

wc: 5.2k

note: omg this is the last part! I'm very proud of myself for setting out to finish my first ever Eddie series (with my next one coming up quick - next week to be exact) and I thank anyone who has actually read this ! I'm very grateful that there are people who actually enjoy my work. It means a lot. I love doing this so so much. I can’t wait to share with you what’s next !!!!!!

Part 5: "Tolerance Break"

How the fuck did you end up agreeing to go to another karaoke night?

No, seriously. What the hell was wrong with you?

Okay, maybe you were being a little too mean to yourself. But didn’t you deserve it after everything that transpired between you and Eddie?

There was something that was beginning to float away from the two of you, something that felt familiar. It was exactly what you’d feared, the teetering in and out. No calls, no texts. Nothing there on your screen, left for dead on your bedroom floor most days as you blocked out any and all noise you could. Only listened to the kind of metal and screamo that sounded like fuzz, where their lyrics were practically incoherent from their gutteral screams. Played every goddamn Lego game on your Xbox and, yes, you specifically avoided clicking on Lego The Hobbit.

And to be fair, you hadn’t responded to any of the texts Eddie did send that first week. You had hope that he would show up like a knight in shining armor, taking your silence as a chance for him to be a hero—as if that was a justified response.

Because silence equaled confirmation that you were done. And confirmation that you were done meant that Eddie had to respect whatever boundaries you’d put up. Despite this, you stared at the door whenever you came home. Left a light on in the middle of the night just in case his knock woke you.

Just in case. Just in case.

But this wasn’t coping.

This was your own personal hell.

Because you also knew about the back and forth with Steve, the hopeful glances and longing stares. The missed chances and opportunities and the stupid, stupid mistakes that you thought about making. You also knew that your relationship with Eddie was going to change significantly. Maybe it already had.

You were leaning up against the side of your car, smoking an emergency cigarette from the pack stashed in your glove box. The anxiety was starting to eat you alive as you really came to terms with the fact that you were going to see Eddie for the first time in nearly a month. And, by the grace of God, you were going to be seeing him sober.

He would probably get there late knowing his finicky Tuesday schedule, sometimes having a longer shift than normal. Maybe he’d be all sweaty and grimy, frustrated and unable to talk to you. Or he could be bright and cheery and make conversation, blind to the magic of your lucky fishnets chosen for tonight.

How would he act? Would everything be okay? Did he even want to talk to you after what happened?

What even really happened?

Maybe he wouldn’t show up at all.

Would it even be worth it to stay?

The sound of Robin calling your name woke you from your self-indulgent nightmare fuel. You looked up, watching her wave at you with Steve in tow, sporting a white crop top and a deep green button down left open, bracelets galore. Steve was in his work outfit, sleeves rolled up, button down unbuttoned and untucked. Disheveled wife beater clinging for dear life in this weather. Like he was straight out of a quirky 2000s movie. Except he didn’t look exhausted, just slightly tired.

You met them halfway, giving Robin a side hug to keep her away from the smoke.

But as soon as you pulled back, she grabbed the cigarette and crushed it under her Vans. Even went so far as to stomp on it.

“Rob, seriously?” Steve asked.

“Gross,” Robin replied, shaking her head at you. “So, so gross.”

You just wanted five minutes of unhealthy coping mechanisms—but you knew Robin was right. Getting back into smoking cigarettes just because you were in a perpetual state of sorrow due to your own actions may not be the best course of action. Maybe that’s why you felt better on your two-week tolerance break from smoking weed. It just felt better to have a clear head, especially if it wasn’t doing well in the first place.

Steve gave you an apologetic look, also giving you a side hug. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine,” you said. “It’s probably for the best.”

“Should we go inside?” Robin asked, pointing at Go Ask Mary.

What you noticed as soon as you sat down was that neither of them even mentioned Eddie. Didn’t tell you whether he was still coming or whether he’d be late. The three of you were ten minutes early to the scheduled time, so it wouldn’t be too bad, right?

Steve started chatting you up immediately, (almost unbearably) asking you how you’d been doing and if you’d seen anything good on Netflix or Max lately. You really didn’t want to talk to him, didn’t want to even look at him. Because if you did, you’d only see betrayal in his eyes, a mere reflection of your guilt.

As if noticing your discomfort, Robin butt in. “Actually, I was watching this documentary on that new NASA thing and apparently there’s this black hole—"

You were starting to feel sick to your stomach and it only increased when Eddie walked into the bar twenty minutes late.

Despite telling yourself not to, you looked up at him.

He wasn’t grimy or dirty, like he’d showered before coming. Like he felt the need to clean up before, what, coming to a bar on a Tuesday evening? His hair was all volumized and bouncy, face glowing in the dim lighting. A Master of Reality Black Sabbath tee with his jeans and his leather jacket and his chains and his everything…

And despite Robin and Steve greeting him first, Eddie held your eye contact.

You hated how that made you feel. Like you were the only reason why he was here. Like you were the only reason he was being social and staying out late. Like you made it worth it.

But neither one of you said anything to each other.

The last few weeks had been…quite unbearable if Eddie had to describe it. He spent nearly every night at his phone, talking to Wayne as if he was his therapist. Wayne bit the bullet and comforted him, tried to give him advice about the whole thing. But Eddie was in a fugue state, unable to truly manage his heartache, even with his stashed emergency cigarettes in his glove box. So, when he got the invitation to another karaoke night and Robin promised you’d be there, he made sure to leave work early, take an extra-long shower, and come prepared to talk.

When you said you’d get the first round, Eddie did his best to stay seated.

Because neither of you had said anything to each other and Eddie wasn’t really sure what that meant. He wasn’t even sitting next to Steve tonight because he felt so embarrassed…but what about you?

Because you looked tense, a tight smile on your lips that definitely didn’t meet your eyes. Your grip on your vodka Redbull was starting to concern him, all strained knuckles and shaky glass. Steve and Robin blabbered on, you and Eddie contributing when it seemed necessary, never actually talking to each other.

By the time Robin said she’d get the second and you jumped at the chance to go for her, he’d given up on being polite.

He reached into his jean jacket pocket to find his black Bic lighter, his holy savior when it came to anxiety and fear. You were ten steps ahead of him, refusing to look back. Refusing to even look up, as if the idea of making eye contact with anyone in Go Ask Mary was borderline criminal.

Eddie glanced at Steve and Robin before standing up.

“Ooh, are you going to go talk to her?” Robin asked, taking a final sip of her first Coke and Bacardi to try to hide her smile. Steve mirrored her, taking a long gulp of his beer as he raised an eyebrow at the man.

The two were the definition of the phrase in cahoots.

Eddie only rolled his eyes in response, turning on his heels to follow your lead.

You were in nearly an identical outfit to the one he last saw you in, with your black Joan Jett t-shirt replaced with a black Scene Queen crop top. A leather jacket. And there with it, a pleated black miniskirt that swayed with you as you walked, calling attention to your fishnets and maroon Converse. Red lipstick to match. Fucking hell—

He was utterly weak for you.

And how did he open up a line of dialogue?

“This is awkward, isn’t it?”

You turned to him before looking down, watching the black lighter move between his fingers—always noticing his anxious habits but never truly calling him out.

“I guess,” you replied, seemingly nonchalant.

But he was getting closer and…was that cigarette smoke on your jacket? Had you been smoking? Eddie thought about asking, but there you were beating him to the punch.

“Emergency cigarette, huh?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. “Seems like you’ve been stressed about something.”

“It’s all over you, too,” he countered. “I wonder if there’d be a common denominator if we compared notes.”

He didn’t miss the way you scowled before trying to cover up your frustration. “It’s just been tough at work.”

“Oh, so is that why you haven’t texted me in three weeks?”

“Eddie—”

“Hey, it’s just a question,” he said lightly, throwing his hands up.

Before you could say anything, the bartender was sliding you the drinks.

“You left your jacket at my place,” you said as you handed Robin’s card to the guy. “It’s in my car if you want to grab it before you leave. Or earlier if you’d like.”

But Eddie wasn’t one to back down, was he?

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“And I don’t intend to,” you stated, scribbling on the receipt before turning to walk away. Eddie noticed you left his and Steve’s drinks behind. With a sigh, Eddie grabbed them and followed you back to the table.

After everyone was a bit tipsy, Robin found her way to the karaoke stage, followed by Steve. You noticed that Eddie was opting out, merely sitting there in silence. He nursed his whisky, nodding along to whatever conversation was happening, even if he was directly spoken to. It was already bad enough that he was sitting closer to you than he did Steve.

Was he trying to make you feel better? Was his silence to keep everyone from feeling weird? Did he tell Steve about what happened, and they were trying to play it cool? Lower the awkwardness?

Your anxiety was starting to crawl along your skin resulting in you having to take your jacket off. The alcohol doing absolutely nothing to diffuse it. Even if you drank faster. Not that you would ever feel the need to expedite the process of any form of intoxication or inebriation. Not at all. Nope. Never.

But after another dreadful fifteen minutes, you needed out of there.

Fast.

“I’m going to sing a song,” you announced, interrupting Steve.

Before anybody could respond or react, you shot out of your chair and walked over to the guy by the stage. He sat on a stool behind a podium, his laptop hooked up to a speaker.

“Pick your poison of the night,” he said with a grin. “The Eighties are your oyster.”

“Gladly.”

Eddie watched you scroll through the guy’s laptop, bouncing from side-to-side as you debated your choices. Nodding your head along to whatever he was saying.

And he just couldn’t help himself from being a pest, from ignoring Robin and Steve, from walking over and ending up behind you.

“What’s the song choice?”

You flinched, turning to look at him with quite a nasty look on your face.

“Why do you care?”

His eyebrows furrowed. “Why are you being so goddamn mean?”

Like before, you gave no answer.

Instead, you grabbed the microphone and stepped up on the poor excuse for a stage. As you lifted your foot, your skirt started riding up. Eddie didn’t mean to look up your skirt in a moment like this, scout’s honor, but he caught a snippet of…your…garter belt?

Were those your…lucky fishnets? No, he had to be mistaken. You already had a few pairs, there was no way you’d worn the lucky ones when you were being this mean.

“Why’re you looking at me like that?” you asked him, your voice sounding much, much harsher than it usually did.

“I’m not looking at you like—”

The track started and you shook your head, turning from him to put on a smile and face everyone else but him.

Eddie didn’t stay, heaving a sigh before walking off to sit back down next to Steve and Robin.

Clearing your throat, you let yourself groove through the beginning instrumentals, shaking off Eddie’s words and the fact that he didn’t stay to watch. Didn’t stay to show any support or be your biggest fan like always. But this wasn’t about him.

“There's a boy I know, he's the one I dream of.

Looks into my eyes, takes me to the clouds above..."

You were met with a few cheers at the choice of song. Trying to play along, you held onto the cord of the mic, twisting it around your fingers, while moving your hips from side to side. Your pleated skirt moved with you, twisting and turning and twirling wherever you moved.

For the first time tonight, you smiled.

“How will I know if he really loves me?

I say a prayer with every heartbeat.

I fall in love whenever we meet.

I'm asking you what you know about these things."

But something began to click in your head.

Because this was absolutely about Eddie. This was exactly how you’d been feeling for the last three years. Every little, tiny thing that had run through your mind whenever you were together. Whenever you were laughing or crying or going on dates that ultimately turned into duds. When you went to the aquarium or the movies or Jailbait Hemp…

When you were sitting with him for the first time in this exact bar, wondering if he was going to be something more in your life, unable to predict where you’d inevitably be.

“Falling in love is so bittersweet.

This love is strong, why do I feel weak?”

You closed your eyes as you kept going, determined to get through this without having a meltdown. If you just powered through it, then everything would sort itself out and you’d sit back down and Robin would tell you that the song was a good choice and Steve would say some dumb shit. And Eddie—

Eddie would say nothing at all.

And at the end of the night, you’d tell Robin and Steve goodbye. You’d turn to walk away to your car and hope that Eddie would run up to you and demand to talk. But you’d inevitably be met with disappointment as you reached your car. He wouldn’t grab his jacket. He wouldn’t say a word. And the two of you would fade without a sound. Without even a goodbye. And you’d know then for certain that he never truly wanted to be with you. He’d made his choice.

“If he loves me…if he loves me not.”

When you opened your eyes, you were shocked to see Eddie near the edge of the stage, his hands stuffed in his jacket pockets.

“If he loves me…if he loves me not.”

He was looking at you the way you hated, the way you secretly loved. Like you were the most precious thing in the world.

“If he loves me...if he loves me not.”

He was quiet, not even swaying, letting you sing no matter how terrible it sounded. Just making eye contact with you, watching you. You tried looking away, but nothing else could hold your attention long enough before you were back, trying to make sense as to why he was still there.

And there was something bubbling in your chest, something starting to unfurl.

“How will I know if he really loves me?”

Something was starting to constrict your vocal cords and you had no way of letting it go.

“I say a prayer with every heartbeat.”

Especially when Eddie was still standing there, and you were realizing that whatever you two had was over.

“I fall in love whenever we meet.”

This chapter of your life was coming to a close.

“I'm asking you what you know about these things.”

Nothing was going to fix this.

“How will I know if he’s thinking of me?”

There was nothing you could do.

“I try to phone but I’m too shy. Can’t speak.”

Nothing.

“Falling in love is so bittersweet…”

You started to choke up, sniffling as you looked at Eddie, with his pretty brown eyes and his intense fucking stare and his teeth digging into his bottom lip. Was this the last time you’d ever see each other? Was this truly the end? Was this the last look you’d get of him, forever lodged in your memory as the moment you lost the greatest thing to ever happen to you to someone else?

“I feel weak—"

Without hesitation, you dropped the mic, jumping down and running past Eddie. Robin and Steve tried to call your name, but you couldn’t do it anymore. You pushed open the front door into the tangerine glow of the sunset and felt yourself fall apart.

“What are you doing, Eddie?” Robin asked, shaking her head at him as he sluggishly made his way back to the table. “I mean, seriously.”

“This has gotten totally out of hand,” Steve said with a sigh, swirling a straw in his beer bottle.

“Yeah, no shit, Sherlock,” Robin said sarcastically. “How do you think she feels?”

Steve nodded. “You literally didn’t want to keep going on dates because you’re into her.”

Eddie’s eyebrows furrowed. “You said you were okay with it.”

“I am,” Steve said, throwing up his hands. “I get it. You feel how you feel. No shame in that. But I just think it’s kinda annoying when you’re not even doing anything about it. I mean, seriously, dude. It’s been, what, two weeks?”

“Three and a half,” Eddie corrected.

Steve gestured to him. “My point exactly.”

Eddie felt like an idiot. The way he watched you start to crack onstage, as if you were bending. Breaking. Falling apart.

“Are you really gonna just let her leave?”

Eddie turned at the unfamiliar voice. It was the drag queen that seemed to always be there, Luverne Bell, just out of drag this time. He stood there with his hands on his hips, still wearing a killer manicure.

“What do you mean?”

He sighed. “Boy, I watched that poor girl thirsting over you a month ago, jealous as hell of that one with the hair,” she said, pointing at Steve before looking back at Eddie. “She sang to you tonight—fuckin’ Whitney Houston, the queen of all queens—and you’re questioning if you should be a big boy and go tell her you love her? Are you that stupid?”

“No, I…” Eddie gulped. “I guess I didn’t think about it like that.”

“Then go, idiot,” Robin said from the table. “You’re literally wasting time.”

“Yeah,” Steve agreed. “Don’t fuck it up.”

They were right. Eddie couldn’t back down. You needed him just as much as he needed you.

It felt odd how simple it was.

Even when he was unsure of your feelings. Even when you had those awkward conversations. Even when he’d be on a date with Steve or talking Robin’s ear off about his frustrations—not to mention Jeff, Gareth, and Grant. (They got much more than they needed to.) Hell, even after you fought and stopped talking for nearly a month. No matter how hard this felt, loving you was simple.

And he planned to keep loving you no matter what.

Eddie nodded before walking towards the door.

He could hear Luverne Bell sigh behind him, saying, “I’m getting that fuckin’ invite to the wedding, so help me God.”

It was all completely hopeless.

This was probably the lowest you’d been in a long time, dramatically running off a stage at your favorite bar in front of the guy who you’d been in love with for the past three years. And now you were too weak to get in your car and drive far away from here, far away from Eddie.

You tried being an asshole to him, tried to get him to push you away and leave you alone. It would be better that way, giving him a reason to never come near you again. At least then you wouldn’t be tempted to tell him that the sight of him with Steve made you want to throw up. Hell, you already did.

Tears streamed down your face as you lightly hit your head back on the brick wall of the building. You needed to distract yourself. Calm yourself down.

With the las bit of strength you had, you shuffled over to your car to grab another emergency cigarette. You caught the sight of Eddie’s jacket in the passenger seat and nearly screamed, wanting to run over the damn thing out of spite.

Maybe act on impulse and burn the damn thing.

As if you’d ever actually do it.

You managed to successfully light your cigarette when you heard Eddie call your name. Turning, you could see him looking around to find you before he finally did. He called your name again.

“Don’t leave!” he said loudly. “Come back.”

With messy makeup and even messier hair, you looked him directly in the eye as you walked back over. If this was how everything was to end, you were ready. No matter how fucked up you looked. No matter how fucked up you felt.

“Can we talk?” he asked.

“What’s there to say?” you asked, taking a strong drag.

“You can’t keep playing this game with me,” he said, shaking his head. “You really can’t.”

“Go back to Steve,” you choked out, fingers shaking as you took another drag. “I bet he’s better company than I am.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “I don’t want to go fucking be with Steve right now, alright?”

“Why not?” you asked loudly. “He’s all cool and hot and sexy and a big, hot, sexy hot shot. I’m sure he’s better than me in every way possible.”

This earned you another eye roll. “Oh my god.” He covered his face with his hands for a moment, dragging them down to his chin before giving an exasperated sigh. “I don’t see why you care when you’re the one who didn’t answer any of my texts, nor did you answer me when I asked you why like an hour and a half ago.”

“I don’t have to explain myself to you,” you lied.

“That’s just a shitty copout at this point.”

“You’re annoying,” you lied again.

“And you’re acting like a dick!” he exclaimed. “An outrageously humongous cockhead!”

You scowled at him. “Oh, I’m the cockhead? Really?”

“Yeah, you are.”

“Real mature. Nice.” You waved him away, taking another drag. “Go back to your boyfriend already.”

“Stop bringing up Steve, oh my god!” he nearly shouted.

A scoff left your mouth. “You’re the one dating him.”

“Yeah, well, I broke shit off with Steve three and a half weeks ago.”

You paused, pulling the cigarette from your lips. “You did?”

Eddie nodded. “Mhm.”

“Why?”

“Oh, you know,” he said with a breathy sigh, fiddling with his lighter. “Just in love with my best friend over here, no big deal.”

“You’re…” You lost grip of your cigarette as everything began to swirl around you.

He was…actually in love with you?

“You’re in love with me?”

His eyes widened. “You didn’t know?”

“I…wasn’t sure.”

“Right, even when I almost kissed you, or…?”

“Well…I just thought when you…you said you thought Steve made you happy…” you trailed, losing steam. You couldn’t continue, only shrugging in response before crossing your arms over your chest.

He tilted his head, trying to catch your eyes. “And now here’s the part where you say you’re in love with me, too, right?” You looked up, watching his lips turn up in a small smile. “‘Cause there’s no way I’m interpreting this wrong anymore.”

You looked at him questioningly, nearly playful in nature now, deciding to push him just a little bit further. “Oh, yeah? What makes you so sure?”

“Because tonight I realized that you have been nothing but jealous this entire time and making fun of Steve who, correct me if I’m wrong, you’ve never had a problem with before.” He drew closer, putting his hands over your crossed arms. “And there’s nothing I want to do more right now than kiss you and make all of this stupid middle school drama go away.”

“Are you not worried we’ll lose everything if it doesn’t work out?”

Eddie smirked. “What if I told you that I don’t care about that and all I want is to take you home and cuddle on the couch and watch Lord of the Rings?”

“The extended edition?”

“Literally what else would I be referring to?”

“Okay,” you whispered.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Eddie wrinkled his nose at you, eyes searching yours. “Mm, and why are you looking at me like that?”

“Because I’m absolutely, positively in love with you,” you admitted. “That’s why I’ve been looking at you like that for almost four years.”

He grinned. “God dammit, I knew that was what you always wanted to say.”

“And yet you never said anything about it,” you noted.

“Well, I—” Eddie paused before his eyes lit up. “Holy shit. Holy shit! You were gonna tell me that day at the aquarium, weren’t you?” Your mouth opened but you were way too embarrassed to admit to it. He studied your expression before a smirk fell on his lips. “You were! I knew it. I fucking knew—"

So, you kissed him.

Uncrossed your arms and grabbed his face, keeping him from walking away. From running away. From doing anything else than being right here, right now. In your grasp, in your kiss.

And Eddie wasted no time, roughly grabbing your waist and drawing you in, breathing you in. You were trying to process what was happening, but it was all going by so fast. Because his hands were squeezing your hips, fingers flexing as if he was consciously trying not to hurt you.

Instantly, you couldn’t fathom ever feeling this euphoric. This carnal hunger for something so soft and tender. For finally being able to get to this moment, this aching desire having loomed over you for so long.

Despite this disbelief, you needed to push back, not ready to give away your dominance. Did he even know you?

You reached a hand down and grabbed his ass, pulling him against you, earning a gasp from him. When you squeezed harder, he jumped and let out a small yelp.

Laughter spilled from your lips as you watched his cheeks turn red, close to matching your lipstick. And you noticed it hadn’t really transferred to his mouth, saving him from more embarrassment. (You thanked whatever God was out there that you’d worn your sturdy lipstick.)

Even so, your lips were still on his, unable to disconnect. Unable to let them go anywhere.

“You think that’s funny?” he asked, playfully trying to stare you down.

You wrinkled your nose, grinning. “Yeah, I do, actually.”

Eddie wrinkled his back at you. “Yeah?” He mimicked your voice, raising the pitch.

“Oh, yeah.”

Without warning, Eddie pushed you against the brick wall, slotting his thigh in between your legs. You swallowed a whimper, trying to stay quiet. Trying to sustain your dominance. But he had other plans, fingers slowly moving down your side until he grabbed your thigh and lifted it—roughly at first, but then carefully placing it snug around his hip. Delicately, as if the moment was meant to be cherished, as if you were meant to be handled with care. He dragged his fingers down your fishnets before curling his hand around your knee to quickly yank you up juuust a little further.

Eddie was moving his nose against the side of yours, shaking his head. “And what the fuck are you doing wearing these?”

“You don’t like them?” you whispered, pushing him further.

“Are you serious? I’m in love with them,” he admitted. “And you. Very much you.”

“Told you they were lucky,” you responded with a playful shrug.

“God, you’re frustrating,” he whispered before his lips met yours again. But he quickly moved, making his way down to your jaw. You wondered if he knew that you were getting dangerously close to losing your grip on whatever abstinence looked like.

And then he reached the back of your ear and oh—

You let out an involuntary moan, having to lean away from the contact to catch your bearings. If you didn’t, you genuinely thought you were going to faint.

“Maybe we could do some other things while we watch Lord of the Rings.”

Eddie tipped his head back as he let out a hearty laugh. “And what might that be? Watch the first, second, andthird?”

“It’s a—” Eddie quickly dipped back down, nipping at your neck. “Ah, fuck. It’s a surprise,” you finished, nearly moaning again. “Fuck, not for much longer if you keep doing that.”

“You want me to wait until we’re two and a half hours deep into Mordor?” he asked. “Do you know me at all? That shit is important.”

You shrugged. “Well, you could be two and a half hours deep into this pussy—”

“That was unnecessary,” he joked, shaking his head.

Your smile widened. “It was kinda funny.”

“Just a little,” he admitted before moving his lips back to your jaw.

“I could dress up as Sam?” you teased, feeling his teeth carefully grazing your earlobe. Another gasp escaped your lips. “Could call you Mister Frodo if you’d like.”

The vibrations of his laughter made tingles run down your neck.

“An intriguing thought,” he joked. “May I propose a trip to my van?”

Now you fully pulled away from his face, wondering how serious he was.

“I’m not doing it in a parking lot.”

He feigned offense. “Why not? My van’s right there?”

“Eddie, I’m not having sex in your van.”

He tsked at you, leaving pecks on each of your cheeks. “You’re no fun.”

“How about a compromise,” you proposed, pressing a finger against his mouth. “How about you fuck me beforewe watch Lord of the Rings?”

“Does a joint happen to sneak its way in at some point?” he asked against your finger. You giggled as he removed it but continued to hold on. Smoothed his calloused fingertips over your knuckles.

“One before, one after,” you said matter-of-factly.

He smirked. “I think I can manage that.”

You kissed him again.

And it really wasn’t so stupid after all.

Taglist: @mrsjellymunson @fishwithtitz @aysheashea

THANK YOU TO EVERYONE WHO HAS EVER READ THIS! Your support has meant everything to me ! <3

#Eddie munson #Eddie Munson x you #Eddie munson fluff #Eddie munson angst #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x reader #best friend!eddie #modern!eddie munson #modern!eddie x reader #best friend!Eddie x reader #thank you again. I’m feeling so ahhhhh right now! finally finished my first eddie series #can’t wait for the next one #just feeling glad that I can escape and disappear from reality for a little bit

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super-paper · 8 months

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Rereading the early chapters of MHA, and tbh I think we can pin this scene as the exact moment Tomura develops his fixation on Izuku.

Everyone in this scene assumes that All Might doesn’t need any help and starts wandering off, leaving All Might to face Kurogiri and Tomura alone. Izuku is the only one to intervene, "offering help that no one asked for." Of course, Izuku is the only one with actual insight into All Might’s condition and realizes that he's in danger— but from Tomura’s perspective, Izuku is some rando kid that's throwing himself into danger to help someone who doesn’t appear to need any help. And the emphasis on everyone else being willing to just sit back and do nothing while All Might handles everything is something we know ties directly to one of Tomura’s biggest traumas:

Tomura: "Don't just watch. Help Me. Someone please look at me. Don't just tell me not to cry. Don't just smile and pretend that everything is alright. Don't pretend you don't see me." MHAReddit: Ah, I understand-- obviously, the series is saying that Tenko is dead and we can beat this guy by punching him harder! :)

I gotta stress that Shouto and Co. are kids and I'm not faulting them for deciding to let an adult handle the situation (and I don't doubt in the slightest that they would have also chosen to intervene if they were privvy to the same information abt Toshinori's health as Izuku)-- but from Tomura's perspective where he holds pretty much everyone equally responsible for society's failings, this act was enough for him to start subconsciously singling Izuku out.

Meanwhile, the sports festival just reinforces Tomura's budding interest bc it reinforces that Izuku is actually batshit crazy and Tomura's response to this is to ask ".... how crazy we talkin'? 👀"

Oh, Izuku, you were definitely gonna get kidnapped at some point 😭

Anyway, stuff like this is also why I feel that Horikoshi likely planned on having Izuku save Tomura from the very beginning (And I've seen ppl argue that Hori had planned to have Tomura be the final boss and get defeated/killed because of Nine's existence, but let's be real-- Nine was an AFO expy parading around in a Yoichi expy's body and ya'll know it). There's a lot of set up for why Izuku is ultimately the best person to save Tomura scattered throughout the early stages of the manga, like, literally starting from the very first page:

Izuku: *crying the biggest and ugliest tears mankind has ever seen, snot pouring out of his nose, sweating a frankly concerning amount, and fighting back his own tears because he just can't ignore the tears of others* I GOTTA SAVE THAT CRYING BOY....!!! Shigaraki Tomura, famously a freak, inching himself closer to Midoriya Izuku's splash zone with every chapter: ....... :) :) :)

Izuku saves others despite being a sobbing, snotty, sweaty mess--often times while he's being a sobbing, snotty, sweaty mess. It's antithetical to All Might and Nana's beliefs about saving others with a smile and about cultivating an "image"/"mask" meant to reassure others-- but that's not a bad thing, and the whole series is built around showing us why it isn't a bad thing.

Izuku cannot separate his own inherent humanity and desires from his heroism and is driven by impulse/ego/pain the same way Tomura is. He remains a crybaby who wears his emotions on his sleeve throughout the entirety of the manga-- and the lesson he ultimately learns isn't that he should "just stop crying and hide all his fear behind a smile," it's that he shouldn't run from that aspect of himself because it's the part of himself that allows him to empathize with others. Izuku saves a piece of himself every time he gives his all to save those who are in tears, and he's become the exact type of hero who would've given it his all to save his child self.

This might not be the sort of hero Izuku fantasized about being-- but it's exactly the sort of hero Tomura needs after a lifetime of having his own tears downplayed and ignored by everyone.

on that note, the anime having Tenko and Izuku's "masks" basically evaporating to reveal their soft, sparkly, shoujo-y centers in that one season 6 OP remains one of the most on-point visuals the anime has ever given us lmfao. can't wait to see what they do for s7.....!

#sophie.txt #midoriya izuku #shigaraki tomura #just rambling a bit so this post doesn't have much in the way of direction/cohesion. no matter...........!!!#mha.txt

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triforce-of-mischief · 7 months

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legend is a peacekeeper, not a bully. in this essay i will-

heck yeah i'm doing this for real, let's go.

let's take a closer look at his initial list of traits:

"chooses not to be a leader type." so, this is a guy who has the experience and maturity that he could take charge, but has consciously decided to leave it to the elder links. taking responsibility for eight men and boys is a lot, and legend simply doesn't have the energy and/or personality to keep it up at all times.

"the most reliable, you want him on your team." legend is a good person to be around! the others genuinely appreciate his company! i love how this is worded; out of a lineup, legend would be chosen.

instead of calling out to wild or trying to physically stop him (both pretty dangerous moves around somebody with a nocked bow and arrow), legend simply shoots wild's arrow out of the sky with his own. which is a pretty sick move itself. sure, now wild will have to replace that arrow, but it's hyrule. you can't go two feet without finding a vendor. anyway, we don't get to see wild's reaction but it must not have been extreme because legend is calm around wind moments later. even when they're still getting to know each other, legend makes the right move.

legend just gives away an entire freaking fire rod. that's pretty significant if you ask me. he doesn't trust the others with his secrets, but he's willing to provide tools for the job.

this is a playful quip during a lighthearted moment. wild probably knows about the impression that he gives off, and he doesn't seem upset about legend pointing it out.

then, legend's mood immediately shifts to serious as wild reveals the full extent of his scarring. he settles into a mediator role between wild's casualness and time's concern.

as stated before, legend is worried about people breaking his stuff. wild isn't bothered by the veteran's attitude, as he clearly just wants to get in, grab his stuff, and get out.

twilight: "i don't know what his problem is, but you shouldn't let him push you around like that." sky: "oh it's fine. it's harmless. he just doesn't give a second thought about his attitude is all. trust me, people like him aren't bullies." twilight: "hmm. that's very true."

THIS. COMIC. any time legend is stereotyped as a bully, i just point to this comic. sky says it himself: people like him aren't bullies. i could stop there, but why would i? sky mentions legend's attitude; i think that legend genuinely isn't always aware of the tone of his words. he says what he wants to say, and it can sound blunt but he never means harm by it. also, note legend's body language in the panel i chose. his hand is behind his head, likely touching his neck. that's a self-soothing gesture and a telltale sign of nervousness. whatever legend's saying, he's not as confident as twilight thinks he is. sky sees legend as he truly is, and that's what's important.

the prior subject being everybody else fruitlessly guessing at the monsters' motives. it's late at night, the heroes are probably tired, and the conversation is clearly going nowhere. therefore, legend takes it upon himself to lighten the mood. heavy topics can wait for tomorrow; now, the mystery of wild's arrows will make for a sufficient distraction.

legend may be used to being a loner, but he pays just as much attention to the others. he frequently joins small conversations and, at the very least, will observe from close by.

this is arguably the only time that legend's teasing continues at the expense of somebody else. it's not an isolated attack, though. all of the eldest heroes are in on the bit, except for time who lets it happen with a resigned look on his face.

apologies for the lack of legible conversation, but i really wanted to demonstrate the range of emotions that these two go through. legend and warriors bicker like true brothers; tempers flare for a split second before legend realizes that warriors is purposefully making a mountain out of a molehill. they take turns balancing snark and sincerity, and no harm is done from their initial disagreement.

once again: THIS. COMIC. legend is a bit disappointed by the thwarted attempt to tease, but wild makes it obvious that this is not the right time or place so legend acts accordingly. legend tries to make amends by asking a question as he returns the diary, and all hints of prior teasing are gone when he offers not one, but two apologies. legend and wild might be different in many ways, but legend knows all too well how it feels to lose a loved one.

legend is aware that he's not the best with words. this is both a subtle jab at himself, and at time- since the elder has taken the leader role, he needs to act like it. legend is reminding time that he needs to be better about praising his group after a hard-won battle.

by bringing up the topic of magic swords, legend is the one who caused a moment of tension in the first place. when four quickly tries to ease the mood, legend easily agrees.

legend loses another few points here: he's too fast to assume the worst, then snaps at wind as tempers run high after a rough battle. thankfully, things seem to be fine again by the time they make camp.

all right, old man, angst time is over. legend isn't thrilled to have to be the one to speak up, but at least time is done being cryptic and creepy.

it's not the most ideal subject change, but thinking about ganon is certainly easier than being helpless to wild's plight.

can we just... appreciate how legend didn't hesitate before stepping through the portal first, alone? if that's not selfless, i don't know what is.

once again, it's time who doesn't realize that his words are hurtful. legend diffuses the situation, leaving twilight to console sky about the master sword.

this argument has clearly been repeated for however long legend and wild have been traveling together. even though legend is likely older than wild, he doesn't attempt to force the champion to go with his plan. even one on one, legend chooses not to take the leader role, simply trying to get wild to listen to reason. when four shows up, wild reignites the bickering before legend sighs and admits defeat. as long as they're actually going somewhere, legend knows that there's no point in arguing anymore.

legend is pretty set on making twilight admit that he's the wolf- until they're attacked, and legend's thoughts go right back to the group. he then touches the crystal which causes another distraction, but it's important to note that, yet again, legend quits teasing when there's something more important to focus on.

twilight points out that legend's teasing isn't supposed to be hurtful. self-defensive, yes, but legend chooses to be this way- even if it's not ideal, he thinks it'll stop him from getting hurt again. so why would he use his quips to bully the others, if that's exactly what he's avoiding himself?

legend isn't used to asking for help, but what's the first thing he does? he says thank you! then sky picks up on his awkwardness and it's the skyloftian's turn to introduce a distraction.

while the others heroes look nervous or just solemn, legend is embarrassed. twilight and sky were egging four on just as much, but legend still sees it as a personal failing that he didn't act more maturely.

legend coming in clutch with another small quip that he hopes will cut the tension. time's interrogating the kid, who clearly doesn't want to give away the elder's story. legend lets them carry on with their important conversation, but kudos to him for trying to lighten the mood prematurely.

twilight is out for the count with time, sky, and warriors going to help. so, legend acts as the temporary leader even though he's not accustomed to it. nobody listens to him unless he physically drags them away from a fight, but he still tries to keep the team safe.

legend so badly wants to check on twilight, but he knows that four is right. his restless energy then returns and he wastes a few minutes arguing with the smaller heroes before storming out of the inn to look for help.

and finally, we have the rare instance of legend wanting to be the peacekeeper, but not knowing what to say. he hasn't left twilight's side since he recovered, but that doesn't mean that he knows how to react to wild's poking at midna. thankfully, wild backs off and legend is able to remind twilight to save his worries until he has his full strength back.

so, there you have it! hopefully that was more than enough proof to convince you that legend is a pretty great guy, not the bully that people are so set on making him out to be.

#linked universe #lu #linked universe legend #lu legend #lu analysis #making a list as i go of things i appreciated about legend:#floofy bangs (wanna touch)#forearm waow *victorian maiden mode activates*#soft smile <333 #that skirt tho #THAT SKIRT THO 👀#power gloves helloooo #side profile hoooo boy #PINK HAIR BAYBEE #SAD EMO PINK BOI *sobs*#HIS FACE I FORGOT HOW EXPRESSIVE HE IS #IN CONCLUSION I LOVE EVERYTHING ABOUT HIM

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citadelofmythoughts · 7 months

Note

i love how people interpret characters in rwby in the most bland and boring way possible

they take jaune, a deconstruction of a overtly "alpha" dude (lets be real he was a bit if a tryhard loser at the beginning) with a lovely sense of non toxic masculinity (healer, developing emotional intelligence, consumer of respect women juice) and turns him into some sort of haram enjoying chad.

they take yang, someone burdened with incredible responsibility that created both a sense of maturity and deep seated insecurities and turn her into a bubbly bimbo

they take ruby, whose relentless positivity is both a boon and a burden and who is deconstruction of the chosen one trope (she may have a special ability but without everyone else she would be absolutely dead by now) and turns her into small happy child who is the only one who can save the world.

(i'm sure this applies to other characters but this is just off the top off my head)

it's like being served a plate of deliciously seasoned fried chicken and saying you know what would make this better? if i scraped the breading off and put some mayonnaise on top.

That is something I've noticed for a long, long time. There are aspects of the FNDM that HATE how complex the characters have turned out to be. A common one I've heard is "Yang isn't fun anymore."

They wanted RWBY to play it safe and be this stereotypical fantasy fighting school anime because that's what they expected. You see, they don't actually like thinking about things. For all their talk about characters with 'gray morality' they can't handle it when the choices the protagonists have to make are complex.

I feel like a lot of us came into RWBY from the opposite direction. If it had stayed a school anime with unchanging static characters I would have lost interest ages ago. Seeing these people change, evolve, survive pain and trauma but still be heroes has been a privilege.

If you want a bologna, American cheese and mayo sandwich on white bread then RWBY ain't for you. It's a feast with many complex flavors and nuanced experiences.

As always, RWBY deserves a smarter audience.

#rwby

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cerastes · 9 months

Text

Does Chongyue rate on the Just Some Guy spectrum at all, considering how much work he’s put into not being Sui-related?

Chongyue doesn’t exist in the Just Some Guy spectrum in a way we’ve discussed yet, even though he has some overlap, because ultimately his essence conflicts with Some Guyhood on a fundamental level (of what has been discussed in Just Some Guy academia so far at least).

Just Some Guys all have the desire, and sometimes the expertise, to actually come across as Some Guys. Chongyue is a centuries old famed invincible general, title of Grandmaster, whose upcoming retirement is great news among leaders and figures of the highest authority and caliber. Chongyue is basically a celebrity and national hero. Chongyue is Mister Satan from Dragon Ball Z if Mister Satan had those Goku dukes and was actually able to throw hands with the biggest, meanest threats, and also a whole deal more humble, but the point is, man’s beyond notorious. Chongyue is A Guy, not Just Some Guy.

I understand where this sentiment comes from! He’s sealed the Sui consciousness and his true name into his sword, and this isn’t public knowledge, plus, he insists he only knows a little Kung Fu. The thing is, he is technically not wrong about his statement and he truly means it. He’s not trying to obfuscate, and this is a key part of Some Guyhood, he puts it in very laconic but pristine terms to Ling: He considers himself pretty average comparatively, considering the sheer amount of years he’s had to practice and master the martial arts, and confidently says that, were others to have the same set of tools he had, such as natural power and longevity, then anyone could achieve the level he’s at. He’s truly humble and honest about it in a way that is simply outside the scale of most other creatures in Terra to be able to relate to. Of course, this doesn’t mean he’s any less of a one man triple army able to decimate pretty much any quality or quantity of enemies with his martial prowess, but he’s not really underplaying it as much as he’s saying “no yeah but if you had the amount of time I had to grind out these sick spinkicks, you’d also be able to do this”. He’s the Soul Level 846 Chosen Undead that one-shots Kalameet three times over with one R2, and then doesn’t tell you “Oh, no no, it was an accident, haha! Oops!” the way Mr. Nothing would, Chongyue would instead say “Ok you might have found that impressive, but if YOU were Soul Level 846, you could very much do this as well! :)” and he means it! Just because Chongyue can 1cc Super Monkey Ball 2 doesn’t mean he’s particularly exceptional in his eyes, it simply means that it’s the only game he’s ever had for the last 400 years and, if you also played SMB2 for 400 years, you too could land the selfsame sick bounces into goals.

Now, you might be thinking, “wait, that could make him a Jaye of some sort, right?” Not quite! Jaye is truly convinced he’s unexceptional, hell, being exceptional in any way has not even crossed his mind, Jaye lives day to day acutely unaware that he has direct ties to both men you could consider the leaders of Lungmen. Chongyue is well aware that he’s a Sui fragment, and this, he hides, though less with the sundering desperation of someone who REALLY doesn’t want to be found out (like Nothing), and more like someone who’s got responsibilities to uphold, but if it ends up spilling out that he’s a Sui fragment, simply goes “Oh, it seems you know, alright,” and then take the appropriate action depending on what’s the most sensible road to take. Mr. Nothing and Sesa go out of their way to act like buffoons and charlatans for the express purpose of obfuscating their respective masteries, Chongyue has no qualms publicly showing his immense power and physical abilities to onlookers.

If we had to put Chongyue in the Just Some Guy spectrum, he’d had to be on his own little space as A Guy That Thinks You Too Can Be A Guy. He’s not Just Some Guy, he’s definitely A Guy and makes no secret about it (without revealing ALL that makes him A Guy), but he also believes that you, with enough effort, time, and support, can also become A Guy of his caliber, and that he’s nothing special, he just has 6521 hours in TF2 and that’s why he can rocket surf and land air shots with the Direct Hit with 100% accuracy, not because he’s exceptional necessarily.

#arknights #chongyue

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adrift-in-thyme · 5 months

Text

@skyward-floored and I both noticed Warriors looking less than comfortable in Jojo's latest art and thought 'wait is he afraid of heights??' As someone who is VERY afraid of heights I naturally had to latch onto the idea...and write something about it. Sorry, Wars

CW for blood/injury, mentions of vomit, and descriptions of panic and fear of heights

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In no universe is this enjoyable.

Warriors stares down, transfixed by the sky and clouds beneath him, (beneath him — by the golden three they should be above him, ABOVE HIM like normal). His limbs are leaden, his thoughts scrambling, panicked. His mouth is dry as the Gerudo Desert.

He swallows, forces saliva down a too-tight throat. He and heights never truly have gotten along. But this is a new extreme.

He’s never been this high before. He’s never been atop an island in the sky. It’s something he was very much fine, never having done. In fact, he was much more fine before the Shadow had decided it would be wonderfully comical to dump them here.

To Sky, it had been the best thing since pumpkin soup. He was home, after all. Warriors can’t blame the guy.

Still…

He drags his foot away from where it had crept worrying close to the edge. How exactly had that happened?

Still, why on Hylia’s green earth does the hero have to live IN THE SKY?

Warriors glances over to where Sky is eagerly showing off his loftwing to Wild and Hyrule. A short ways away, Time converses with Gaepora. Not far from him, Legend and Wind seem to be engaging in a game of some sort.

Warriors squints. Are they…are they hurling those strange, little creatures off of Skyloft to see them fly back? Well, not anymore, because here comes Twilight to save the poor things. Not that they had seemed to mind much…

The rancher catches Warriors watching and shakes his head.

Can you believe these two? His gaze seems to ask.

Warriors dredges up a dry smirk.

Try dealing with that behavior 24/7, he mouths.

Twilight frowns. I do, is his silent response. Then, his brows dip further, expression losing its exasperated humor. He walks forward, a tiny creature cradled in his arms. Still very much paralyzed, Warriors watches helplessly as he advances.

“Rancher,” he says, cordially, once the hero is beside him – or more in front of him. (Why Twilight has chosen to stand with his toes off the edge of the island, Warriors has absolutely no idea. All he knows is that it makes his legs go numb. He forces himself to look forward instead.)

“Captain,” Twilight replies. He shifts and Warriors’ stomach somersaults. “Are you doin’ alright? You look a little pale.”

“Do I?” Warriors chuckles. It sounds too harsh, too loud. “Must not be spending enough time in the sun.”

Twilight gives him an unenthused look. Warriors grins. The expression feels as wrong as his laugh. Too wide, too brittle.

Why does everything just seem off right now?

“Don’t worry about me, rancher. I’m alright.”

Twilight studies him for a moment, eyes narrowed. He opens his mouth, no doubt gearing up to pry further. But Four’s voice rings out before he can, beckoning him to come inspect one thing or another. Warriors can’t truly make out the words. Maybe that’s because his ears are filled with the sound of rushing wind.

Is it the wind? Or is it coming from inside of him, stealing away his remaining balance and setting his stomach churning?

“Well, take care of yourself,” Twilight says. He sets a hand on Warriors’ shoulder, with a small smile. “And be careful. Can’t have you fallin’ off the edge there.”

Warriors looks down and immediately regrets it. He hardly registers Twilight walking away, doesn’t hear his brother’s lively voices as they enjoy the wonders of Sky’s home. All he can see is the drop off he is certain that he is mere inches from plunging off of. His line of vision narrows, darkening at the edges, and he stumbles back, arms wrapped protectively around his middle.

“Captain?” Time is suddenly holding him, keeping him from toppling. “Are you well?”

Warriors swallows hard. “Fine, Sprite.

“Just fine.”

It’s only the lack of a substantial breakfast that morning that prevents him from getting sick all over the old man’s shoes. ----------------

The next few days are torture. Warriors does his best to keep his distance from the edges of the island. But it is nearly impossible in a place so compact as Skyloft. And the sparse fences constructed around hardly seem enough to keep him from plunging off.

So, he spends most of his time indoors (praying to any goddess who may listen that there won’t be a sudden earthquake that sends the building careening down into nothingness).

His excuses are few and paltry.

“I don’t feel well.” “I’m tired after the journey.” “I need to think about an actual plan to track down the Shadow before he gets too far ahead.”

The heroes can see right through him – he is certain of it. And none more than Time.

“Tell me what I can do, captain,” he says one night when Warriors awakens screaming after a dream of plunging into a sky of flame. (And wow, does that commotion help him maintain his secrecy and uphold his reputation. He’s doing wonderfully.) “Please, I want to help.”

Warriors’ breath hitches as he slumps into his little brother’s arms. Here, with the two of them there is nothing to hide anyway. He couldn’t even if he tried.

“You can get me off this cursed island,” he says, with a dry chuckle. “That would be lovely.”

Time merely sighs and holds him closer.

They both know he can’t do that.

…just as he cannot keep away the monsters the Shadow sends after them the next day.

Venturing outside of the academy to fight off a hoard of monsters is not exactly something Warriors had wanted to do. He is a hero, however, and he refuses to leave his brothers to battle them alone. So, out he comes into the light of the day, with his heart in his throat and his chest feeling like Ganondorf is sitting on top of it.

“I’m sorry that you have to do this,” Time murmurs as they head toward the tell tale screeches (in the plaza, of course).

Warriors shrugs, somewhat stiffly. “Who knows? I could get lucky.” He sends Time a grin and plunges his sword into the first of the monsters. “Maybe the Shadow will open another portal.”

Time smirks. “Perhaps, he will.”

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

The fight drags on all morning. Warriors fares well enough through it. He remains in the center of the plaza as often as he can and his brothers take care of the stragglers around the edges. He does his best not to look at them when they toe the edge, heedless of certain death less than inches away.

And he fights on with the same ferocity as he always does.

…until about midmorning. Because that’s when the moblin shows up.

It is one of Sky’s – hulking and corpulent and capable of taking at least ten bokoblins with one hefty swing of its spear. But he has fought this kind before. With a smirk, he rushes forward to engage it.

He hacks away at its shield easily, then readies himself to dodge as it roars in rage. It rears back, then bends its head, smoke puffing out of its nostrils.

Warriors raises an eyebrow. He hefts his sword more firmly into his hand.

“You gonna come and get me?”

It roars again and breaks into a run. He steels himself, tensed for the strike. One second, two, three…

“Warriors look out!”

Something hits him from behind – something big and bulky and heavy. It slams into his side, breaking bones on impact. He gasps, vision going spotty.

And suddenly he is flying. His feet leave the ground and he is tumbling, head over heels through the air. The world is a blur of color, up is down and left is right. He is almost certain that he’s going to be sick.

Then, it’s over. He hits the ground in a tangle of limbs and fabric. Blood fills his mouth and he chokes on it.

“Captain!”

Running feet sound in his ears. He blinks, dazedly, trying to bring everything back into focus. It feels like the moblin has taken to tap dancing on his skull.

“Ugh…”

“Captain!”

There is panic in that voice, he realizes sluggishly. There must be a reason for that, there has to be…

His vision clears just enough that he can make out a gigantic something looming above him. He tries to push himself up for a better look, but his upper half seems to be on a slightly different level than his bottom half. When he allows himself to lay down fully he sees only sky.

Ah…that would explain it.

Panic pierces him far deeper than any spear ever could. He digs his fingernails into the grooves in the pavement, gritting his teeth against the pain and oncoming unconsciousness.

Don’t pass out. Don’t pass out…

“Captain!”

He tries once more to pull himself up and fails.

Warriors lets out a grow of aggravation. He really wishes his brothers would exert more energy on fighting off this thing and getting him back on land than yelling his title repeatedly.

…though maybe he has heard it a few more times than they have really said it.

The monster raises its weapon just as Twilight comes out of nowhere, leaping forward to skewer it. The rancher’s sword strikes home seconds before the monster’s can, piercing it through. And the next thing Warriors knows, he’s staring up at the concerned face of his brother.

“Are you alright?”

Twilight leans forward, grabbing his hand and supporting his back as he drags him away from the edge. Warriors slumps against him with a relieved sigh.

“Just great,” he slurs and Twilight chuckles.

“Don’t worry. We’ll get you a potion and you’ll be just – ”

Warriors isn’t entirely certain what happens. He is too dazed to comprehend the events that occur in quick succession.

One moment he is held in Twilight’s arms and the next, the rancher is wrenched away from him with a grunt of pain and shock. Then, something collides with Warriors’ chest…

And he’s falling.

His stomach turns to lead, the wind rushes past at breakneck speeds, his scarf tangles about his limbs. Panic courses through his veins, beating in time with his pounding head and thumping heart. It encases him like a vice, paralyzing him, chasing away all other feelings, all other sensations save for icy, thick, undefeatable terror.

Warriors shuts his eyes and grits his teeth. He can’t breathe. He’s going to be sick, he’s sure of it.

…Or maybe he’ll die before that happens. Maybe he’ll collide with the hard ground and in a quiet, contained explosion of agony be gone.

And after he had just gotten up the courage to propose to Arty too. Isn’t that just his luck.

“Hold on, Wars!”

An inhuman cry rings out, free and brave and strangely familiar. In the next moment Warriors’ lands with something blessedly solid. Arms wrap around him, warm and strong. A heart beats fast beneath the chest he collapses against.

“I’ve got you, captain,” Sky breathes. “I’ve got you.”

He drapes his sail cloth over Warriors’ trembling shoulders. Warriors clutches it so tightly his fingers ache.

“Get me somewhere low to the ground,” he whispers, in between haggard breaths. “Please.”

“Don’t worry.” Sky’s voice is kind. “I’m bringing you to the Surface.”

The Surface. That sounds promising. Warriors can only hope that it is as solidly on the ground as the name suggests.

He won’t see it if it is, though. He keeps his eyes stubbornly closed the entire trip.

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

The Surface, it turns out, is just plain, old Hyrule. Which, in Warriors’ book, is pure heaven.

“I still can’t believe no one thought to tell me about this place,” he gripes as he limps out of Sky and Sun’s cozy, little cottage, two days later. “Why would anyone want to stay up in the sky when we could be down here, on the ground?”

Twilight smirks. The rancher has been cooped up with him for the last few days as they healed from the injuries they got on Skyloft. And Warriors has to admit that he has appreciated his company.

“I still can’t believe you’re afraid of heights.” Twilight grins innocently at him. “The great Captain of the Hyrulean Army, scared of a little sky island.”

His tone is light and teasing and Warriors feels no pain from the jabs. But he scowls anyway.

“I’m scared of falling off a ‘little sky island.’ Which, coincidentally, I did and nearly died. Given that, I’d say the fear is warranted.”

Twilight hums. “So, what you’re saying is fear of heights is really a fear of falling.”

Warriors sighs. He looks out over the small town Sky and Sun are building, smiling slightly as he spots Time and Wind fishing in a nearby stream. It’s lovely, really, how he’ll be able to enjoy those activities with them now that he isn’t trapped in the grip of nauseating fear.

“I don’t know, rancher,” he says, shrugging. “Call it what you want. All I can say is that I want my feet firmly on the ground.”

#trin writes #linked universe #lu warriors #lu twilight #lu time #lu sky #angst #hurt/comfort #blood #injury #whump #fear of heights #linked universe fic

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tillytimeblog · 23 days

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if the sea of monsters was the book where i thought the ending was mostly good vibes, the battle of the labrynth is the opposite. i mean all of percy’s friends are going through something personally traumatic/devastating at some point. some of these things get resolved, and some…don’t.

tyson meets his hero, but briares is a shell of himself and even when tyson risks his life to save briares, briares still has given up all hope and just walks out on tyson and the rest of the group. plus tyson finds out the rest of the hundred handed ones have faded into nothingness. we don’t really get much insight into tyson but you can tell it’s constantly on his mind because a lot happens between meeting briares and meeting hephaestus yet tyson feels that is the one very important thing he has to talk about.

clarisse had found chris, driven to madness by minos in the labrynth, and can do nothing but watch him slowly deteriorate worse and worse. we only get a glimpse of chris’s condition but it’s obvious it’s bad, which makes seeing clarisse’s private care for him and her softest side for the first time hurt all the more. clarisse is another person we don’t get much insight to at all, but we know her own experiences in the labrynth plus what happened to chris was enough to make her storm out of the council and swear off the labrynth forever, plus make percy promise to kill daedalus on sight.

rachel only really shows up towards the end, but being thrown into the deep end in the world of monsters getting held captive by swordpoint in the arena plus witnessing pan’s death as the daughter of a huge land developing father is obviously a lot to handle for her. plus she is totally aware of the impact she is having on percy and annabeth’s relationship (way more than percy does) and she clearly doesn’t want to make things rough for them at all, yet she still leaves needing reassurance from percy and a agreement to stay in touch, almost like a lifeline. percy was her sole introduction to the whole truth about the world of monsters after all.

speaking of pan…poor grover, man. his whole life’s ambition was to find pan and save the wild, and he arrives just in time to see the very end of pan’s life. honestly, grover gets a lot of development we only see a glimpse of too. he gets a girlfriend (juniper rocks btw), he spends months out searching, he stands up to the council of cloven elders multiple times, and he takes up the burden of saving the wild upon himself and any satyrs or others willing to listen to him. annabeth says it best when she says grover is growing up, he really is the most mature of the group and he shows it by chanelling his grief into more productivity than anyone else

nico is dealing with his sister’s death very poorly, seeking solace in the worst places (minos) and placing blame where it shouldn’t go. he’s just so, so angry and distraught on the outside and the inside, for numerous reasons. there’s really isn’t a lot to say about him that isn’t already said in the book tbh, nico gets a lot of attention because nico is the number one thing on percy’s mind besides the quest since he feels responsible for nico running away. so we get a lot of explicit nico content as opposed to implicit content for tyson/clarisse/grover. i will say that nico being convinced by minos into going back into the maze specifically to save percy, only to be tricked and captured, hurts much more knowing what we learn about nico much later on

and then there’s annabeth. man, she just has it so, so rough and it hurts so much to read all the different ways life has it in for her. she’s chosen to lead her first quest, the thing she’s wanted to do since she was seven, and everything about it is just terrible. we don’t know this until the next book but luke has already recently visited her and offered for them to run away together, and she turned him down. then she meets janus and is offered to make a choice, which definitely reminds her of the choice she made to leave luke behind. she gets her prophecy and the last line is ‘lose a love to worse than death.’ she’s so shaken by this and doesn’t tell anyone about it, not before or during or after the quest until the very end of summer when she tells percy. she chooses to travel in a group of four knowing it’s unlucky because she really needs the comfort of all the people who care about her. and then she loses them all in the span of like, an hour. tyson and grover split from annabeth and percy even though annabeth is insistent splitting up is a bad idea, then percy blows himself and a volcano up right after annabeth kisses him for real for the first time. she has no one left, and she feels like she has failed. all she can do is go back to camp half blood and cry and wait. for two whole weeks!! for two weeks she probably thought that all three of the people she had left in the world had died because they came with her on the quest!!! or percy at the very least, since grover and tyson could just be stuck in the maze. but percy is absolutely presumed dead, since he ends up crashing his own funeral. annabeth gets to be happy the guy she kissed is back for all of maybe five minutes, because she first realizes he was stranded with calypso and then he tells her his plan to navigate the maze is to call up the cute mortal girl he barely knows so she can do the thing annabeth, daughter of athena, couldn’t. nice going percy. how do you not realize why annabeth is mad at you, dude? anyways, after all that…luke becomes host to kronos. which he warned annabeth about. which wouldn’t have happened had annabeth chose to run away with him and escape his destiny. and because of that choice to not run away again, the guy who was her family after she ran away originally is gone for good. and then what does she do after telling percy the final line of her prophecy, and making enemies with hera? she runs away. before percy has the chance to say something and try to bridge the distance between them. why? we don’t know for sure since it’s percy’s pov and not hers. maybe it’s because they haven’t been able to talk about luke all summer. maybe it’s because percy told rachel he’d like to keep in touch. maybe her heart couldn’t bear to hear him say anything about luke, or rachel, or the two of them. or maybe it’s because she had already read the great prophecy years ago, and knew no matter what he could say or promise, percy was fated to die a year from now anyway.

#pjo #percy jackson #annabeth chase #percabeth #grover underwood #tyson #nico di angelo #clarisse la rue #rachel elizabeth dare #luke castellan #battle of the labyrinth #this took over an HOUR to write but it needed to be said #because damn is annabeth going through it

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door430 · 5 months

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AvA 6 Theories/Thoughts

It's been a hot minute since part 2 of AvA 6 came out, but the physics video prompted a cascade of thoughts and theories that I could not get out of my head, so here we go. This is gonna be a long one.

Theory 1: The mercenaries are victims of TCO and TDL

This theory has been circulating for a bit, but there are a couple points of evidence that I want to bring up.

1 - The mercenaries look very different from any sticks we've met before, and very different from each other, so it's likely they come from different places very far away from each other. This would line up with this theory if they were forced to evacuate. Their fighting skills also explain how they were able to survive Dark and Chosen's attacks.

2 - All the mercenaries, but Agent Smith especially, seem almost like they're toying with Chosen while chasing them down. It's even brought up by DJ in the AvG Reacts video that Smith could've paused TCO at pretty much any time, as if he was just messing around. Even if the pause button only works at short range, Smith seems competent enough to be able to use it if he wanted to. He chooses to use regular attacks instead of just using pause, or even the lasso or select tools, and that seems to point towards some sort of grudge.

Theory 2: TSC and victim parallel each other

In the physics video, I'm sure everyone saw the yoyo and thought of victim with the lasso. But I'm taking it a step further and saying that they're going to be parallels of each other in AvA 6.

1 - Victim very clearly parallels the Alan we see in the first AvA. He uses the same animator tools, particularly the lasso, and he uses the same tactic of keeping his victim trapped so they can't escape. Additionally, the way he easily creates clones and lets them die seems very similar to Alan's original thoughts about stick figures - not seeing them as living things.

2 - Second also parallels Alan from AvA 1, though he seems kinder than Alan was to victim. He uses the pencil to create life just as we see Alan do with the sticks, and like Alan originally was, he seems unaware/in denial that his creations are alive. However, we see that after the workers erase the eel he created, he looks at the pencil as if contemplating the morality of creating life just to kill it.

3 - Victim and Second are often used as foils to each other in fandom works, and for good reason! Second is everything that victim couldn't have, and victim is everything Second doesn't want to be. Victim was deprived of a good life, friends, family, and powers, all of which are things Second has in spades. Of course victim would despise Second for that! On the other hand, Second is shown to be very heroic, striving to do the right thing, and in part 2, he reflects upon his actions, not just with the eel, but with his powers, too, when he discovers he has them. Victim is not heroic, kind, or self-reflective at all, setting them up as obvious foils.

Theory 3: Victim won't be redeemed

This is more of a hypothesis than a theory, but hear me out.

1 - Second is very clearly set up to be the protagonist and hero of AvA 6. If he goes through an arc of realizing the thing's he's done wrong, just like Alan did, I doubt victim's story will end the same way. Victim actively chooses to be oblivious to the consequences of his actions, and he very clearly does not want to become a better person.

2 - Victim's name is more than just a name; he sees himself as the victim in his story. In victim's eyes, Alan hurt him, therefore he has the right to hurt Alan back. He chooses not to see the horrible things he's doing because that would ruin his picture-perfect narrative where he's just a victim of his own circumstances who isn't responsible for any of the hurt he causes because Alan hurt him first. He believes every lie he tells himself.

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earlgreylatte · 9 months

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His Völunder

Lots and lots of spoilers below

Jack the Ripper

Chamomile tea wasn’t exactly your first choice, but the aromatic beverage at least lets you keep your composure as your older sister, Brunhilde approaches your seated form.

It was your turn.

You wonder if your other sisters were collectively letting out a sigh of relief right about now, thankful they wouldn’t be the ones chosen for this round.

Not because they feared their end. No, not that. You had all agreed to put your lives on the line for the sake of humanity, as is the duty of the Valkyrie. Even if it would mean the end of your existence, even if it meant you would lose one another, even if the battlefield would be your last sight.

No, it was because of who would be humanity’s fighter against Hercules.

“Am I your least favourite sister or something?” You drawl out, finger tracing the rim of your cup, before placing it down with a resounding clink.

It’s cold now.

You don’t look back as Brunhilde stood above you.

She calls your name, but rather than the usual exasperation that would take over her tone when dealing with you, there was something more fatalistic in her voice, so lacking in emotion, that made even her acknowledgment of you sound like a warning. You glance up at her, leaning back in your chair to properly shift your body to see that her eyes definitely matched her despondent tone.

“You have gave your vow to put your life on the stake and I have decided you will be the one to fight next. Now isn’t the time—“ Brunhilde asserts, and you have no doubt that she’d give you a proper verbal lashing if you didn’t cut her off.

“Relax, sis. I’m not going to run away, I’m just making a fuss because you’re really putting me in a tough situation. To slay a beloved hero or to die alongside a villainous fiend; I’m the only one of us to face this particular…dilemma,” You muse aloud, looking in your sisters eyes to see a slight ounce of guilt or even sympathy. You don’t.

You sigh, “To pick him…The means may justify the end to you, but this isn’t the hero humanity wants, especially against Hercules. Can’t you…” You trail off as a shiver passes over your neck, before you whirl around in your seat, to see him.

Jack the Ripper.

Who just heard you state your very clear reservations against him. Who has a very overwhelming…presence.

He loomed above you, somehow making his way right next to you without you noticing with an shadowed expression that quickly lightens into something more amicable as your gaze catches his mismatched one. By all means, he looked more docile than you were expecting, appearing like any well dressed gentleman, with deceptively gentle eyes and an almost sincere smile.

To your shock he kneels down onto one knee, grasping your hand. His grip firm but not painfully so.

“My dear lady,” He kisses your knuckle, glancing up at you, “It seems you are the Valkyrie I am to be partnered to.”

You gap in shock, before regaining your senses. “Hey,” you gasp out, before using both hands to yank him up, you let out a choked laugh at the absurdity of your situation, “No need to work your charms on me, I’m not going to run…And you can let go now.”

The man now upright once again, tilts his head, before unfurling your hand from his. “You have quite the strength, but for an alluring lady, such as yourself, I am sure you are full of surprises.”

What a flatterer.

You huff at his strange behaviour before turning towards your sister, “Hilde, no need to linger, we’ll be at the battlefield shortly.”

You expect her to protest, maybe out of doubt or even concern of leaving you with a strange man, or to even say her possibly last words to you, but she only nods. “Very well. You shouldn’t linger too long either. Remember your responsibilities.” You can only mutter a complaint before she departs, glancing back at the notorious killer.

“Sit down for a bit, we still have time,” You gesture at the spot across from you, watching close as he takes a seat with a certain poise. You didn’t think there would be an elegance to simply sitting down, but being wrong was something you have grown used to today.

“I’d offer you a cup of tea, but it’s cold and gross.”

He lets out a chuckle, eyes twinkling with mirth, “I appreciate the hospitality, nonetheless. While I do not mean to question your graciousness, I am quite intrigued by your change in demeanour.”

You sigh for maybe the hundredth time today but certainly not the last, leaning forward to place your face between your hands languidly. “I’m just trying to figure out how I’m supposed to ‘become one’ with an obviously…morally dubious individual, such as yourself.”

“Now, I am quite sure it will be simpler than you think,” He matches your posture, resting his chin above his locked hands, eyes meeting yours again, searching. You have to suppress a flinch at being at his full attention.

“Then you’re dumb.” You reply bluntly while the weirdo seems to look absolutely charmed for whatever reason, leaning back again as if to take you in your entirety. “In all honesty, I don’t want to die, especially alongside you. I don’t want to die because Hercules crushes you like a bug. And I definitely don’t want to die with my last sight being a cheering audience and my last meal being this oversteeped excuse of tea.”

Maybe you’re not as selfless or righteous as your sisters, and maybe that’s why Brunhilde too cruelly left you in his hands.

You abruptly snatch the abandoned cup of tea, and take a large gulp of leftover chamomile tea in a rather unladylike way, before tossing it aside, ignoring the sound of shattering ceramic. In a quick motion, you use your arms and knees to climb across the table, until your nose brushes his.

“My, this is rather unexpected—“ He falls silent as you wrap your hands around his neck, your grip unyielding but not enough to really choke or inhibit him.

“I don’t want this all to be for nothing. I doubt you care about humanity, you probably have your own screwed up reasons for being here. I don’t really care. We will not loose this fight. I refuse to let it end like this.” You declare, eyes locked onto his, feeling blood thrum beneath your fingers.

And he…

And he gazed upon you with wide eyes, definitely shocked at your brazen behaviour. It was almost like he was looking through you but somehow still managing to catch every inch of your visage.

His hands reached up to match yours, not even attempting to remove yours, but simply resting them, as his fingers curl against your own.

He almost looked reverent, his lips curling into a smile that was surprising angelic for a man like him.

“I told you,” He starts, his tone breathy, a stark contrast to his silver tongue, “This will not be hard, at all.”

And like that, your physical form dispersed into threads that wrapped around his hands.

“What a beautiful colour,” He whispers into the empty room, flexing his fingers, almost admiring his now gloved hands.

“It’s just a normal pair of black gloves, wouldn’t say there’s anything remarkable about it,” You drone, your voice passing over him as you reside at the core of his very being.

“I wasn’t referring to the gloves, darling,” He replies, finally moving to make his way to kill a god.

And kill a god, he did. While it was the longest battle yet, and you almost jumped out of your skin throughout the battle only being able to yell at and scold Jack for his risky tactics, he still won.

Yes, Brunhilde definitely expected this outcome.

As he looked up, seemingly at a loss for words at Hercules’ end. You regained your form, slightly cringing at the mixture of Jack and Hercules’ blood marring your skin and clothes.

You exhaled, looking up into the sky, knowing you aided in the demise of one the kindest beings to grace mankind. Green wisps of light ascended above, both you and Jack watching the final remnants of Hercules disperse.

He looks back at you, his eyes meeting yours once again, “It seems we survived like you wished for. How do you fair, milady?”

“You’re asking me that? I’m more curious about our latest godslayer,” You retort, rubbing your hand against your bloodied cheek, scanning his various injuries.

“I cannot say, this feeling is utterly foreign to me,” he clenches his fist, returning his gaze back to the sky, with a wistful tone that seeps into you.

Can he not see how completely sad he is?

His expression remained as light as ever, but even without synesthesia like his, you could see the somber look in his eyes, almost mourning.

He was pitiful, that much you could say with certainty after performing völunder with him.

“That’s sadness,” You reply, watching to see any reaction, “You, like anyone else here, are feeling sadness at the loss of Hercules.”

“Am I?” He muses, turning back to you, smiling, his eyes as gentle as they were when you placed your hands around his neck.

“What are you grinning at? You do realize you’re bleeding out, right? Are you perhaps delirious from blood loss?” You remark, breaking eye contact, still feeling the burnt of his eyes on you, nonetheless.

“Your colour is certainly unique,” He replies, simply.

You turn back to him, taking in his appearance, he looked different in your eyes from your first meeting. Even excluding his injuries and battered form.

You approach him after a moment of contemplation, with a lowered voice.

“You shouldn’t have pretended to be Jack the Ripper, would have saved you a lot of trouble and grief. While you’re not infamous, that would still be better than everyone rooting against you. I think the only one who cheered for you was drunk.”

He looks surprised for some reason, as if forgetting your very souls converged.

“That…” He seems to trail off, still caught off guard, before smiling in an irritatingly sad way. “In the end, the two of us have committed the same atrocities.”

Really now…

You sigh, “You really are pitiful. You should hurry to the medbay before you actually die. Don’t forget, you let yourself get impaled.” Without another word, you take to the air.

“As you wish, madame.” He mutters, amused, looking at your retreating form for a second more, before making his way through the replicated London.

While you had decided to leave by yourself to clean up, you turned back, and as expected, Jack was facing the malice and grief of those who loved Hercules. Adults and children alike pelting stones and whatever else they could grasp at him.

It was moments like these where you wonder how gods can’t see their similarities with humans. Grief and retribution seemed to be inherited feelings.

You hesitate for a second before cursing, descending next to him, plucking his knocked off hat from the ground as rocks rained from above.

“You…came back?” He looks stunned, as you move to place his hat to its rightful place and you have no doubt why.

Today was probably the first day someone even said “I love you”, to him so this is probably the most somewhat positive interaction he’s ever had.

“I’m just as responsible as you, so might as well face the music together,” You respond idly, kneeling down to loop his arm around your shoulder and hooking your arm across his waist before slowly standing up to make your trek to exit the arena.

“I would have to vehemently disagree with that notion,” Jack mutters, his voice finally betraying his weakened state. The fool tries his best to hold his own weight, but you only scowl, and use the arm at his waist to tug him closer.

“Forget that. How about you try learning a new song? I think ‘London bridge is falling down’ will forever be engraved into my head,” You complain finally reaching cover as you leave the storm of rocks, shouts, and sobs.

Jack laughs before wincing, “It is simply a song that I cherish, my fair lady,” He looks fondly at you once again as you let out a groan at his choice of endearment.

“Wasn’t expecting you to be such a sap,” You avoid looking at his face as you two see a med team quickly approach, carrying a stretcher. “Well, this is where we part, Jack, or whatever your real name is.”

“And I suppose you plan to fix yourself a proper cup of tea now?” He asks as you two detach for the nurses to fret over him, no doubt remembering your earlier conversation.

You grimace, remembering the taste.

“Hmm, I doubt it. I don’t think tea is for me, after all ,” You hum, turning away before you feel his slender fingers wrap around your wrist. Startled, you look back, only for him to pull you toward him, stumbling as your hands meet his chest. You try to detach yourself from him before he strains himself further, but Jack simply wraps his arms around you in a manner too bold for a man of his era.

“Idiot, what are you doing—!?” You begin to reprimand him, but his voice instantly and embarrassingly silences you.

“Allow me the honour to brew you some tea. I’m quite fond of darjeeling, myself. I think you would enjoy it too,” He interrupts you, looking down at you with those sappy eyes that you definitely hate.

“F-fine!” You stutter, trying to avoid the curious gazes of the nurses, quickly shoving him into the strecher, “But worry about the hole in your stomach first!”

You finally turn around, speedily escaping the prying eyes and giggles of the nurses.

“As you wish, my fair lady,” He calls out, and you can hear the smile in his voice as you let out a small noise of annoyance at his audacity, ignoring the heat that spread to your ears.

At least his spirits have returned, you think, fighting back a smile.

As confirmed in the side story series, “The Jack Ripper Files”, Jack isn’t actually the og ripper as a lot of people have already guessed since his behaviour in the main story obviously doesn’t match a vulnerable women killer. No, he actually killed the real Jack the Ripper who was about to kill a young orphan girl. Like he still has a weird desire to kill (pretty sure some organization (maybe government) seems to give him targets (it’s a win-win, he gets to kill, and they get the job done)) and is obviously not morally good but he wouldn’t go after innocents especially prostitutes, like his pseudo mother Anne. But he still takes on the moniker for Ragnorak since he has killed one. Also, even before the ripper thing, he seems to use Jack as a fake name anyway, probably after his father seeing how he wears his stolen hat.

Any interaction would be appreciated! I plan on writing a Qin Shi Huang and Nikola Tesla version next!

#record of ragnorak #shumatsu no valkyrie #record of ragnarok x reader #ror x reader #shumatsu no valkyrie x reader #snv x reader #jack x reader #ror jack the ripper #snv jack the ripper #artist of death x reader #ror jack x reader #snv jack x reader

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