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anyoldfandom · 3 months

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I am actually. I am so emotional over the Salazar parents and I need to share this to tumblr too.

A lot of stories where the MC is adopted I feel. Either dismiss the biological parents and the impact they have on the kid's life, or makes them evil and abusive, framing the loss of the bio parents as a good thing, or at least something we shouldn't think about just look at this new family.

But Genrex doesn't do that. From the start, Rex wanted to find out more about his parents - it's one of his primary character motivations, next to helping people. He loves them, even though he doesn't know them.

And the more he finds out about them, the more he realizes they loved him. Rylander is consumed by guilt but as Rex's first connection to his pre-Event life, the first thing he does is hug him. And when he tells Rex about his parents, the two things Rex knows is that 1) they were scientists, and 2) that when he was in danger, they were desperate enough to use their secret, experimental technology to save him. Technology built from their desire to help the world, to save countless lives and end countless suffering.

And then. When he finds out that they were dead, he doesn't stop caring. It'd be so easy, too, to tie it up there - his parents were good people, he got his answer about them, the end. But they don't. He doesn't. Because the show is saying once again that they are his parents. He still calls them mom and dad, even as the show makes it clear Holiday and Six adopted Rex as their son. Even as the show even parallels Six and One with Rex and Six (and I will talk about that more later if I don't forget, trust me), to really drive home how much they're family. Rex even says he considers the two of them family, and later that he considers Noah, Claire and Annie family.

He has new family, the show tells us, but his old family still matters to him. He's upset that he never has the chance to meet his parents, that everything he hears about them, about his time with them, is secondhand knowledge. It tells us clearly that not only does Rex still love them, but that he still wants to know them. And everything we find out about them reinforces the love that they had for each other.

We see Abuela and the family in Mexico, who connect him to his birth family and tell him that he was so loved back then, and still is now. We see their office in Abysus through Rex's eyes. The picture of him and his dad on his desk. The drawing Rex drew, proudly pinned to the wall.

We see it in the familiarity of the drawing. That that robot, that build, was what Rex created when he was lost and scared and alone - that it was made to keep him safe. That it first appeared in his mind in a place he felt safe.

The show says, tenderly and softly, that the love is still there. That the fact these people died was nothing but a tragedy, that their love is a big part of what made Rex who he is today - that every molecule in his body is filled with their final gift to him. That every time he cures someone, every time he uses a build, every time he makes a machine - we see the love that they had for him.

And the way he quietly absorbs his father's face. The way he freezes and whispers "Mamá?" when he finds out Zag-Rs has their mother's voice. The fact that she even has her voice as a testament to Caesar's love, too - that it was meant to bring comfort and safety. The way Rex yells at Caesar when he finds out they have a family property, a connection to their past, the way he fights to protect it.

And, none of this takes away still from Six and Holiday being Rex's family too. None of this removes the work either set of parents did for him, the love either set has - the show says that it was unfair that the Salazar parents were lost. That Six and Holiday are not replacements, that they still love him as parents but play different roles in his life. They can not, and have no desire to, replace the Salazars. But Rex needs parents, he needs protectors, and so they will do what they can for him - at first out of necessity, to keep this kid they barely know safe, but then out of love. They aren't replacing what was lost, but are doing their best to do what Rex's bio parents would do. And they do mess up in it - they mess up in ways Rex's bio parents might not have. Six is clearly bad with showing affection, affection we saw the Salazars give Rex so easily, and Holiday is overworked and stressed constantly, sometimes breaking under the pressure and snapping at Rex and Six, things we never saw the Salazars do.

It's just. It's about how sometimes things will not be the same. They will be different. That doesn't mean the people you lost aren't still with you.

#This is also. Why I dislike the 'Rex was secretly made for the nanite experiments the accident was a lie' theory so much #Bc it assigns malice where the show says over and over again there was only love.#That this was only ever a tragedy of good people whose good intentions were manipulated and twisted.#And I think giving them something shitty to have done in the past especially goes against the message of the show's perspective on adoption #The family we choose is not always stronger than the family we are born to. Sometimes they are equal in different ways.#Rex's bio parents are gone but not replaced. They have also shaped who he is #Six and Holiday are just picking up where they left off. Because they have to.#Also I don't like the theory that Rex's parents are EVOs somewhere bc I think it diminishes the impact of the tragedy too.#I get. Wanting them to have a happy ending. But I think it's important to realize that this is the closest they can have to a happy ending.#Some things cannot be replaced. Or fixed. Sometimes life takes what we love and what loves us. And that is okay.#It is okay to be upset at that and it is okay to never fully move on.#'What about Caesar?' I have. Another post's worth of thoughts about him.#But I think he's also a character who is defined more by Rex by their relation and defined by the story by his guilt #I think he is the closest thing Rex has to a shitty bio family member and he is shitty in plenty of ways #But he's also a parallel to Rex in a lot of ways. He fails where Rex succeeds bc of it.#generator rex #genrex #Anyways. Sorry for the big post.

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shiny-jr · 6 months

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from POMEFIORE

- Warning: Yes, this is still a yandere thing. You have been warned. Gender-neutral reader.

- Characters: Vil Schoenheit, Rook Hunt, Epel Felmier.

- Summary: (Continuation, after this “we just got a letter, wonder where it’s from”) You have barred them from entering the safety of Ramshackle Dorm, but they are determined to make their words reach you. Which is why the letters begin arriving at your doorstep.

- Note: Hoping its not too out of character.

Ignihyde | Pomefiore | Scarabia

Perfume. The carefully sealed envelope reeked of it, like the sweet smell of lavender with spice. The envelope containing the message looked like something you would find when getting an invitation to a ball or a wedding. The envelope was pristine, and the wax sealing it was done so perfectly without a single awkward edge.

It almost looked unnatural with how perfect it appeared. The thick beige parchment was cut evenly, and not a blot of ink strayed from the elegantly curved cursive words that looked like ribbons upon the page. Looks could be deceiving. It was beautiful, but as you might've already guessed, the interior didn't entirely match what was hidden beneath the surface.

To my darling player,

I am at fault and take full responsibility for my actions.

All I've ever wished for, was to admire you. You are the epitome of magnificence, divinity that I can only dream to one day achieve but knowing I will never truly reach. There's an otherworldly sort of allure to you, which drew me in far too close. Much like the man who enhanced himself with wings of wax, but flew too close to the sun so his wings melted and he met a terrible fate. You are the sun, and I was that reckless fool with fake wings.

I allowed myself to get too close, tainting your light with my imperfect presence. Your grace was the warm sunlight on my skin, when everything around me was a horrible darkness. To think, I attempted to put out that light. It was nearly diminished. For that, I should be burned. I'm sorry, so so sorry.

I've thought long and hard on what I could possibly say to you, what sort of response could be adequate enough considering what you mean to me and the delicate situation. It didn't take long for me to arrive to the answer: no response is fitting. It doesn't matter if I pen a letter long enough to rival the river of tears I shed, coat the envelope in gold and ink of silver, with a message that would have moved the seven themselves to weep. It does not change the betrayal that occurred. I betrayed the trust you gave me, and shattered it into millions of pieces. However, know that I'll be on my hands and knees piecing it back together again, even if the shards cause me to bleed, you are worth it.

The stabbing sensation on my skin would be nothing compared to the one in my heart that I feel when I consider the fact that you might despise me. There's nothing more I would want than to see your face, hold your hands and feel the warmth of your skin that's so unlike the coldness of your vessel. Requesting a meeting would be imperious, as I have no right to ask you of this. But if I could, I would love to see you and discuss what comes next, perhaps over lunch. This is just a thought, a wish of mine, but one you are not required to fulfill.

I'd love to believe that I know you and your vessel better than anyone else could even dream of understanding, but I know that is far from the truth. Even as I pampered and polished your precious doll, your secrets continue to escape me. Did you ever hear me, when I brushed and washed Yuu's hair? When I took their freezing cold hands and painted their nails? When kneeled down in front of them to polish their shoes? When I adorned the best luxuries of brand accessories on their body?

I would kneel down to no one else.

There was always this wish, a dream of mine, that one day I might perhaps one day get to pamper you. Not Yuu. But you. Is that a scandalous desire?

Your hands would be warm, and I would hold them as I file your nails. Your arm wouldn't be so rigid and mechanical, you could actually extend it as I slather a creamy scented lotion along your skin. And if you do desired, I could lift your head and apply lipstick to your lips... This is just the process I commonly used while your vessel was under my care.

Although, I would gladly take up the responsibility of nursing you back to health, or any other role you would give me. There are countless things I can accomplish for you. I commonly deal in potent poisons, but I can just as well deal in healing and comforting. I'm skilled in self-defense and various forms of magic, so I can be your companion to protect you from everything that would wish you harm. You know of my business in acting and singing, so even if you wanted nothing else I could be there to entertain or serenade you. I only wish to be with you again, even though I know I'm underserving. I'm selfish.

If you want nothing more, then I have to be satisfied knowing I was in your thoughts for a brief moment. A twisted part of me wants your mind to be plagued by thoughts of me, just as my mind and heart is full of you.

I have to remind myself, that by getting too close I risk being burnt. But, at this point, I do not care for my own safety. I only care for yours, and I do this to keep my sanity. I truly admire you so much, that I cannot adore you from afar behind a rope like sculpture in a museum. I have to stand nearby, inspect your beauty, polish you to a shine, and value you like the priceless treasure that you are. Should someone threaten to chip off even the slightest speck on you, forcing you through more suffering...

I will shatter them into a million pieces, to preserve your peace.

Yours,

Vil Schoenheit

The wonderful aromatic smell that filled your nose brought back some not so pleasant memories. The smell of the earth beneath your feet, the scent of dew collected on every still surface, but above all were fragrant tangs that immediately alerted you to any nearby presence of a student belonging to Pomefiore.

They had chased you through those deep dark woods, like a pack of rabid hounds tracking and hunting a poor wounded rabbit. Besides their shouts and footfall, their perfume gave them away. There was one in particular which you only caught a whiff of only when you had too closely encountered the dormleader. The scent of lavender and spice hit your nose, the same fragrance on the letter.

"That reeks! Burn it!" A certain feline hissed, covering his little black nose with his paws. You swore the fragrance was beginning to form a migraine at the front of your skull. If the smell was strong for you, it must've been much worse for Grim since he had a superior sense of smell.

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad, if the smell wasn't that strong and it wasn't the particular scent. Like vanilla or freshly baked bread. If that were the case, Grim might've insisted on keeping it or even be tempted to take a bite out of the sheet.

But it was lavender and spice. So the letter was tossed into a corner several feet away, left to an unknown fate that you would ultimately decide later. When you glanced back to Grim, you saw him holding and sniffing another letter.

For a long moment his sniffed the rolled up paper, his black nose twitching as he was likely just searching for another gift to claim as a snack. After a few seconds, he discarded it, sliding it over to you before he opted to dig through the pile like a raccoon digging into a heap of trash. "Meh, this one smells boring."

"Boring, huh?"

Boring wouldn't exactly be your choice of adjectives to describe this letter. It wasn't an envelope, it was a scroll tied by ribbon, attached to an arrow. An arrow, of all things, was likely the messenger for this message. Thankfully, this one didn't smell of anything. Even without a fragrance to match to a profile, the arrow was a dead giveaway.

Opening it up and using your hands to smooth out the curled edges, you blatantly ignored the wax seal over the ribbon. Once it was fully unsealed, a few single flower petals drifted down from the paper. Just another mess you would sweep up later and decide whether to dispose of it or not, like the first letter from the dormleader. For this one you were a pinch anxious. The sender was not like the others who came before.

Trickster,

It relieves me to see that you are finally safe.

To see you rest and heal in tranquility, nothing steadies my anxiously beating heart more than knowing you are sheltered. Well guarded by a trio of ghosts and the courageous feline Grim, I have no need to stress over your wellbeing with them acting as your valiant knights in shining armor! Although, I would also wish to join their ranks, blessed by your grace and fit to serve as your shield. However...

I am conscious enough to know that I am nowhere near fitting, no matter how much I may wish to reach out and shield you from every evil. In that most vital moment, I had failed to recognize you. I may have spared you from the sharpness of my blade, but I couldn't have guarded you from the suffering that was to come afterwards.

I'm so deeply and truly sorry. Many sleepless nights have followed, since and even before our first fateful encounter in those woods of the Pomefiore estate. Before our encounter, I was conflicted. I wanted to detest you, but I could not, I thought there must be a reason this was all occurring. I couldn't slumber peacefully, so long as I knew there was turbulence surrounding your beloved vessel. After our encounter, I couldn't get the vision of you fragile, frightened, and wounded, out of my mind. Raising a blade against you, who were a stranger shrouded in infamy, made my very heart stop.

Now I know why I was so unexplainably drawn to you. It was not due to the wild frenzy that overtook the entire campus, or a burning hatred to destroy, or even my own desire to discover answers I desperately wanted, although that last one may have played a role. The reason as to I was so enticed by you, a cunning 'imposter,' was because my heart recognized you. It must have been my very soul that pulled me towards you, and perhaps my own nature as well. My body recognized you, my heart and my soul led me to you, but I was blinded by my sorrows.

Throughout the few years I've had on this wonderful earth, I've seen countless peoples, and you are unlike any of which I've seen. In the places I've been, I have witnessed poetry be written by masters of literacy, melodies sung by the most angelic voices ever heard on a stage, and devoted worshippers in holy places kneel in solemn prayer. Somehow you as a single being, or entity, encompass all those elements into one. My aim is to admire beauty, and I see beauty in its finest form when I look at you.

I truly understand what you mean to me, and to others.

But at the same time, you remain a mystery. And I believe I'm speaking for all those who admire you when I say this. We could only dream of truly understanding you, when we only had Yuu.

So, I try to make sense of it all in what I do understand, in the beautiful things I adore that I associate with you who I cherish. In literature, music, photography, I see you in everything all at once. When I read poetic lines, I think I could share it with you. When I hear beautiful music, I imagine you might enjoy listening to the tune too. When I discover stunning sceneries, I plan to bring you there someday to share a moment with you.

Now, I can make sense of it. I understand how the poets of old felt as they penned the love and awe they felt towards the Fairest Queen. It's a rare sentiment that cannot easily be put into words, a feeling as if it held my delicate heart and squeezed when I so much as thought of you. When a song and its composer can bring an audience to tears, I understand that now too. Hearing your voice for the first time, formed a knot in my throat that prevented me from saying much. Catching that first glimpse of you, was like gazing at a perfect painted portrait hanging in a museum.

My dearest player, I am a Hunt. I am naturally inquisitive by nature, and my fondness for you comes just as naturally. You may consider it wrong, but I will continue to offer my loyalty even if you may not accept it.

My aim is to one day unlock your secrets, solve your mysteries, and understand you fully, learn what makes you tick and what drives you forward. Perhaps when the day comes when you've forgiven me for my crimes, I can proudly stand in your presence and recite the poems I have written in your name. I could admire you everyday from then on, and remind you everyday of your worth. Then, I will protect you, from all harm, and I will not allow myself to fail you once again. This is a promise.

Should you need me, I will be there.

Yours,

Rook Hunt

There was something that felt... off. Compared to some of the previous letters, these were rather tame. Of course, there was the desperation and fascination evident in their words captured by the ink, but it was nowhere near as extreme as other cases.

Although, it was still chilling, to read the thoughts they penned.

In your hand you held the arrow the letter had been connected to, feeling its thin shape and the sharpened head at its tip that nearly pricked your finger. The vice dormleader had excellent aim, and had he not been so kind, arrows like this one in your hand could've easily been driven through your flesh and caught you against a tree where you would've been helpless in their grasps.

And yet, despite the opportunities he had, he didn't let a single weapon touch you. All it would take was one arrow, one moment and he could've ended you where you stood. But he spared you. However, there's the lingering doubt that maybe the primary reason he did it was he hoped you had answers to the malfunctioning vessel. You couldn't be sure exactly why he spared you, when everyone had wanted to torment and imprison you or worse.

Beside you, there's a large crunch and a content purr. When you look over, there's Grim, happily munching away on an apple he held with his little paws. He sank his fangs into the fruit, content that he finally found an offering that appeased him. In front of him was a small basket, filled with more juicy red apples.

"These are great! And, even though I was the one who found them, I'll let you have some!" Grim picked up another apple from the basket, sticking his claws into the red peel and offering it with his little grin. Nevermind the fact that these were probably meant as a gift for you and not for him, but you didn't mind. They would have likely ended up in the trash anyways, at least someone could enjoy them.

"You should really have one. You haven't eaten all day."

"I'm not hungry, but thanks. You can have them." Ever since everything happened, you weren't too keen on accepting gifts, especially if they were consumable. For now, the only places you'd accept food from, was the cafeteria you'd venture too at the dead of night when no one was there, or Sam's shop.

In the spot of the basket where Grim had removed the apple, there was a white layer at the bottom of the basket. Perplexed, you reached in and found an envelope hidden by the piled apples.

Unsurprisingly, the envelope smelled of sweet things, apples, cinnamon, and freshly baked pies. The envelope itself was nothing special, it had no intricate wax seal or marking. It was loosely sealed shut by a brown piece of string, and covered in some white and pink apples blossoms.

The inside was less impressive, more authentic, which was refreshing in a way. Smooth cursive flowed into slightly choppy print scrawled out in uneven lines, before eventually returning back to cursive at the end of some sentences. It appears parts were rushed judging by the blotted ink stains at multiple periods. The apples were a clue as to who the sender may be, but why would the letter be hidden in a gift?

Dear Player,

If you're reading this, that means my letter got through.

Where do I even start? It seems right that I first say sorry. I'm sorry. It sounds like a load of bull, but I am sorry. Apologizing in all these other ways, won't make this any better, so, I thought this might help. I'm gonna be completely honest with you, no lies, no tricks, just the blunt truth. I'm not going to be showing you these pretty sides I polished to impress and to mask all the ugly. I'll tell you everything that's been going on. That's something only I have the guts to do.

The reason I hid this letter was because Vil and Rook have been checking anything I want to write to you. They want to keep up this positive front, they wanna at least pretend to be perfect enough to be near you. At least, that's what I think. Although I know we won't ever come close to that.

Instead of trying to write a real and honest letter for you, it feels like I was writing some essay for Professor Trein to grade. I'd have to write and write, and even if the grammar was right, the message wasn't. They want to make you think everything's okay, when it's not. I can only imagine what elegant crap they were spewing in their own fancy letters, while we're actually all a mess. We've been like this since Yuu broke down. I try to understand them, and in a way I do, but sometimes they freak me out. Yeah, I got my own problems trying to comprehend all this chaos, but they're different.

Is everyone else in the other dorms this extreme? This miserable and on the verge of breaking? Maybe you won't believe me, or maybe you'll realize that there's some truth to what I'm saying. Here, in Pomefiore, I can only tell you what I've seen. These days, Rook's smile seems strained, like he's about to snap, his eyes are sharp and watchful. The only time his smile is normal is when he's looking at some photo, but he won't ever let me see what it is. Vil, well, the only sign he's still alive and kicking are the packages that come in for him, new makeup and all that stuff, things he's using to craft that perfect mask. I did see him one night out in the hall, I swear there was mascara down his face but I was too put off to approach when he was like that.

Don't ever tell them I told you all this. Vil would probably skin me alive and wear me as a robe, and Rook... I don't want to think about what he would do... I'm kidding by the way, but seriously, don't ever tell them. I told you I would be honest to you, so here's my reason. I thought that maybe telling you all this would score me points with you, get you to trust me again. Even if this is a rotten way to go about it, I don't care.

I am rotten, and I won't hide it like them.

If I can't even be honest with you, then do I really deserve a second chance at all?

Scratch that. I don't deserve a second chance at all after everything that happened. What I did was downright terrible, but I'm trying my damnedest to be deserving again. And I won't stop trying, even if part of me thinks it's useless. I never cared for Yuu, the only reason I acted for them was because it was you behind them. My goal is to eventually be beside you, the real you.

Although, a basket of apples is a crummy way to go about things, but think of it like a peace offering. Just cause I can't get word to you, don't mean I give up. I'm not giving up. Ever. Everyone's going about their own roundabout ways of mending things. If you want to hear more, I'll gladly tell you. I don't think anyone else would tell you the truth of what's happening, because in a sense everyone wants to appeal to you with the best image of themselves they can possible portray. Don't believe all the hogwash they send you. If whoever sends something and seems to be stable, they're not. Not completely.

I'm awfully ashamed to admit it, but I'm not okay. Not since everything started, and not since everything went to hell when shit hit the fan. I'm not okay without you, and I got myself to blame for that.

This letter is helping. The thought of communicating with you again, even if I can't see your face or hear your voice and its reduced to words on paper, it's more than I could ask for. So, if you want me to spill the beans, just ask. If not, if there's no response, well, I'll get a bit of comfort thinking you might've read this. Besides, I have hope with each attempt I'll make. I'm not just rottenly selfish, I'm stubborn to a fault. And if I have to knock down someone else's chances to get closer, then that's fine by me.

All you gotta do is talk to me.

Until then, hoping to speak to you soon,

Epel Felmier

#twisted wonderland #twst #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twst #twst imposter au #i didn't ask to isekaied #we just got a letter wonder who it’s from #vil schoenheit #yandere vil schoenheit #twst vil #rook hunt #yandere rook hunt #twst rook #epel felmier #yandere epel felmier #twst epel #pomefiore

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yvnaology · 6 months

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LANGAGE D’AMOUR: HOW THEY LOVE!

LANGAGE D’AMOUR: love languages, how they show their innermost emotions that make your heart melt and your cheeks burn. it’s how they show their appreciation for you, in their own special way.

CHARACTERS. fontaine cast (lyney, lynette, freminet, wriothesley, clorinde, neuvillette, navia, charlotte & furina.)

CONTENT WARNINGS. tooth-rotting fluff, slight angst in navia’s + slight spoilers if you haven’t done the archon quests, established relationships, not proofread.

EXTRAS. last time i’ve ever even attempted writing was in july, it’s DECEMBER. please bear with me & my rusty weaving of (mostly) fluffy tales! 🫶🏼✨

I. ❝ MAY YOU BE REWARDED WITH TANGIBLE ITEMS, MY DEAREST ! ❞

GIFT GIVING: people with a gift-giving love language prefer to be shown love through the act of giving and receiving gifts. (furina, freminet.)

FURINA brightens up at the slightest glimmer of joy in your eyes when she expresses how the item inside the box in her hands resembles you. Regardless of value, Furina expresses her utmost adoration by giving you a myriad of tangible presents. Her presence at your doorstep painted a spot of joy on your cheek, much more so when she presented you with a beautifully wrapped offering — her look of anticipation for your reaction inciting a giggle to escape your lips. Reward her with words of appreciation or even a kiss, would you? The prominence of a reddened hue on her cheeks and how she would act as if such an action didn’t have much of an effect, betrayed by the pounding feeling in her chest . . . is well worth it.

FREMINET whose diving expeditions never came out empty-handed. Whenever the urge rises to the surface, he finds himself delicately weaving matching bracelets or necklaces using romaritime flowers and beryl conches for the two of you. He wears the most flustered expression you’ve ever seen when he presents them to you, a token of his appreciation. When you wear his handmade jewelry with a twinkle in your eyes, he feels his heart warm indefinitely. Neither of you can explain the twitch of the corners of your lips, when a sudden collaborative effort ends with his mechanical penguin friend, Pers, having an addition to its design, a lumitoile necklace.

II. ❝ MY APPRECIATION COMES IN DOING, ASSISTING, AND SERVICE ! ❞

ACTS OF SERVICE: people with an acts of service language love language show love by doing something for their partner that they know they would like. (wriothesley, lyney, clorinde.)

CLORINDE, who does not express her inner worries whenever you walk across the streets of the nation of Hydro — and nonchalantly offers to accompany you to ensure your safety. You notice how the corners of her lips twitch into a small smile when you accept, her expression mirrored on your face. She’ll listen attentively to your woes, joys, or rambles while keeping a hand on the hilt of her sword in case of an emergency. If danger does arise, you will be sure that the Champion Duelist will resolve the issue while keeping your person a safe distance from the root cause. Any doubts will immediately diminish, and her question of ‘are you alright?’ gives you butterflies, but I guess that makes two.

LYNEY, who presents you with a magic trick at the sight of your tears, tips his hat and winks as he performs the way he would for the bawling children. A sense of wonder would overcome your senses and distract you from the cause of your woes, as he gently takes a rose from behind your ear — a flick of his finger and suddenly your hair becomes a holding place for an abundance of rose petals. The moment a smile is etching on your features, Lyney knows he has done something right. Your flushed cheeks give him the motivation to continue until you’re left with a racing heart from something that wasn’t a monster in the form of anxiety. He’ll spoil you with his tricks, wonderous and extravagant at heart, and finally press his lips against your dampened cheek at the end of his performance.

WRIOTHESLEY who constantly pats the cushion of the chair for you before you sit, ensuring its comfort. He prepares a cup of your preferred morning drink every day, much to your delight. His actions have their way of making you smile, something he will forever be grateful for. Wriothesley, who puts a hand on the small of your back or around your waist as you two walk around the Fortress of Meropide — such a question as ‘why?’ crosses your mind once or twice, but the moment you ask . . . his response is vague. It’s his intention to leave you in the loop of questions while your blood rushes to your cheeks. You feel him tightening his hold on you only slightly, noticing the small grin appearing as you point it out — earning a small snort from him.

III. ❝ MY TIME IS YOURS TO CHERISH, TO CREATE MEMORIES FROM, LOVE. ❞

QUALITY TIME: people who have quality time as their love language, time itself holds a great significance to them and their relationship, as the clock ticks — there is not a moment they’d like to waste with you. (neuvillette, charlotte, lynette and navia.)

NAVIA, who cherishes the times she’s made macarons with you, inviting you to gatherings that the Spina Di Rosula held, even the times when you’ve had to watch her break down in tears of reminiscence of her losses. She appreciates you, for accompanying her to her father’s grave, and for agreeing to have a picnic near the area where memories of sorrow lay bare. Navia keeps you close, unable to fathom the idea of another person being taken from her. As proud of a lover as she was, she feels herself fearing and doubting more often than not. All of your smiles, laughter, joys, and tears are things she will forever find herself admiring. You only live once, and she plans to spend every waking moment by your side.

CHARLOTTE, who captures what she considers to be the best moments of your relationship on camera. Time is a precious thing, unable to be wasted and regretted — as she takes you by the hand, she wonders if the feeling of her heart pounding in her chest will remain within the next five or ten years. She’ll fondly look over the pictures she’d taken, a few of them capturing your.. rather expressive emotions. A picture of your pout, frown, and smile — yet she can’t possibly choose a favorite out of all of them. Whenever her camera flashes in your eye, the expression she wears is almost.. soft. The moments that she’s the most quiet, even she feels the need to become a romantic, intertwining your fingers in hers.

NEUVILLETTE, who finds himself learning about human emotions as time goes on — observation, mental note-taking, until he finds one he couldn’t decipher or describe in words: love. The feeling of euphoria only existed in your presence, such intensity took him a while to come to terms with — all because of your smile. His role in Fontaine is complex, and he finds himself wishing that time would stop for both of you. Every free minute he has, he will always choose to spend with you, oh lovely you. The melusines aren’t the only ones who take note of his longing gaze, causing you to visit the Palais Mermonia frequently. His smile reflects yours, as his wish for another minute by your side had been granted.

LYNETTE, who often invites you over for tea parties, whether it be with the company of her siblings — or simply a moment for the two of you to enjoy. She’ll prepare you the best brew she has, along with a few desserts she knows are to your liking. She makes sure the atmosphere is comfortable, waiting intently for you to start the conversation. Regardless of the topic of the words that escape your lips, she is there to attentively listen to every word without fail. Your secrets are safe with her, guarded by her undying love for you. She isn’t the best at comforting, nor is she the kind to sugarcoat her opinion, but her small tea parties are almost equivalent to relaxation sessions. They allow her to pamper you in her own ways, just as you deserve.

#lynette x reader #lyney x reader #neuvillette x reader #clorinde x reader #navia x reader #freminet x reader #genshin x reader #furina x reader #wriothesley x reader #charlotte x reader #astronetwrk #genshin x you #genshin impact x reader

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germposting · 7 months

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ok so i know that a lot of people heard verna tell madeline and roderick that their family would never face legal ramifications for their crimes as part of their deal and then just threw out pym’s involvement as a throw away character protected only by a supernatural shield. they just went “oh ok so he was only a ‘good lawyer’ because they were divinely shielded from consequences so he wasn’t really worth shit” or whatever but how has nobody come to the very possible conclusion that arthur pym IS the divine protection??

verna could have sent him to the ushers *as* the protection from the law. because hes worth six or seven lawyers and he knows how to get shit done. she admits to having admired him for a long while. i think hes the first human she meets when she decides to go to earth to watch the humans? roderick himself tells this to auguste dupin when they recount arthurs ability to make shit disappear and find people who can’t be found.

arthur gordon pym was the divine intervention that protected the ushers for all those decades. he was aided by verna and benefited from his proximity to the family, sure, but his success (lets call it what it is, he succeeded) shouldn’t be written off as something that just “happened” and he took the credit for. he is the credit. he is the protection. he willingly goes to jail and confesses his crimes and refuses vernas offer to make a deal after it becomes clear the ushers are doomed, its his choice. its not the shield being lifted and unable to protect without the ushers around, its pym not having anyone to protect anymore. he says it himself, he doesn’t have any collateral. why not repent at that point?

anyway all this to say i love arthur pym and i dont think his character should be diminished at all by the revelation of the usher twins deal with the raven. also mark hamill crushed it

#the fall of the house of usher #arthur pym #arthur gordon pym #mike flanagan #tfothou #house of usher #mark hamill #media analysis #pokki speaks

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somewhereincairparavel · 15 days

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Literally where do people get the idea that Jason was full of himself and that he thought he was better than Percy? This is legit brought up in so many 'why-i-hate-jason-grace" arguments it just screams lack of reading comprehension and obvious Percy bias saltiness. Like just say you are bitter that Jason is written as percy's equal and that you want Percy to have nobody rival him 💀

Never once in his povs did he ever think about how much better he was, on the contrary it's just him not feeling good enough about himself. He and Percy NEVER said anything bad about eachother.

His and Percy's rival is just a joke between two powerful demigods who have rival dads, that's literally it. Even if Jason did indeed think he's better, so what about it? What's the big deal?

he has worked hard and accomplished great things, so he has like, every right to be confident in his power, stop acting like hes all weak and inferior when he canonically killed a titan with like his bare fucking hands till the point Krios swore vengeance on him. No he's not "weak" or morally inferior to Percy as a person. You are merely trying to cope. Not to mention the way people judge a character's worth SOLEY based on their abilities is a huge red flag in itself, but that's a discussion for another time.

he shouldve canonically had more achievments and power than he originally got in the books as a son of jupiter. but rick made Percy too OP and fumbled jason for the sake of keeping percy's spotlight intact. Has it ever dawned on people that Percy is shown to have cool abilities like bending tears but Jason is never shown to have abilities like controlling lungs? Yeah, that's authors privilege for ya.

Y'all put Percy in an obnoxiously high pedestal and that's not a good thing. It diminishes his flaws and makes him appear so saint like and Gary Stu even though he's not. the fact that ppl get so sensitive over their rivalry and try to belittle jason by making up scenarios (like claiming jason thinks he's superior and shit) and go around saying that to ppl to reduce his value DESPITE being well aware that he has like enough hate already, is so insanely petty. BOTH Jason and Percy deserve equal amounts of respect.

God forbid a teenage boy say he's better than the other as a joke, he's such a terrible, stuck up, and shitty person who deserved death for that, isn't he?

#Attack me all you want idc I said what I said.#Yall just dig up reasons at this point. It's giving an 8 year old roblox kid behaviour.#Fandom to a boy with a tragic story who literally did nothing but exist and be a good person: he's a villian who deserved death! 😡😠#I swear if Jason slander still exists a few years later then I have no hope in this fandom anymore.#I thought this fandom was peaceful 😔#“I hate Jason with passion bc he's boring and nobody should rival Percy because he's the best.How dare Jason be the son of the king of gods #“how dare someone be percy's equal. Nobody should be written as Percy's competitor 😤😡😠” like womp womp ig #Y'all are so salty lmfao. The fandom makes Percy into such a gary stu even when he's not.#pjo #pjo series #pjo hoo toa #pjo fandom #percy jackon and the olympians #heroes of olympus #percy jackson #jason grace #pjo hoo #hoo

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mapoeggplant · 2 months

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skip to loafer and the "i love you as a person" message

skip to loafer general spoilers

one thing that i'll always be very grateful of skip to loafer is really how they highlight so much the "i love you as a person" mindset — and how that is present in all the narrative, not only on shima and mitsumi's relationship.

this is not only important for the story's target audience, but it also opens the door to a discussion about the value of platonic relationships, which are often "denied" because they are not as "important" as romantic love. and this happens not only when mistumi tells shima that she will like him no matter what happens or who he is — the message spreads to other characters as well.

one of the examples i love most is the moment mika confesses to shima. throughout the chapter, all of her insecurities are exposed and she tirelessly hurt herself saying things like how she doesn't deserve to have someone who likes her in any way (a reflection of the way she was treated throughout her adolescence). this dissolves when shima refuses to throw away the valentine's gift she made especially for him and thanks her for all the care she took with it — an affirmation that her hard work has been recognized and appreciated. this shows mika that she is a person who deserves love and to be valued. for the first time, mika understands that she is being seen as a person, as someone who deserves to be treated well and be recognized.

i know that many people must be thinking that there was an intention for a romantic development in this scene and yes, i agree. after all, mika went to him to confess her feelings. but the way in which the scene was handled makes me think that being seen as a valid person to have feelings was worth much more to her than having her romantic feelings reciprocated — and this, in my opinion, comes back to prominence in chapter 54, when nao, once again, recognizes her pain and connects with it (the appreciation of the "self" when you find someone who understands where you’re hurt).

(...)

(this part wasn't included on the original analysis, but later on I decided to add:

oh my god i was so focused on some very specific scenes for mika that this one slipped my mind and i feel so bad for that! this moment is one of the most important for mika’s development and it also highlight the first time she was seen as a person (by no other than nao). since that day, mika holds nao to a very important place in her heart. i feel that she, at that time, said exactly what mika needed to hear to feel validated and to feel comfortable enough to just go back and spend the night with the girls. if it wasn’t for nao at that time, mika would probably go home and regret ever making this decision — and this ties directly to chapter 54.)

(...)

the second character i want to talk about is yuzuki and all the times he had his identity erased thanks to other people's selfishness.

since the opening of chapter 38, yuzuki talks about how she was always seen as someone whose time was numbered: there was a countdown until the day she achieved "true beauty" and began to be an object of desire, no longer a person. this not only happens thanks to the disgusting adult men that surround you, but also thanks to the friends she tried to make in middle school, one of the most important times of a child’s life, phase where they are beginning to recognize themselves as a person.

yuzuki is simply seen as a object of status to the boys in her class, while to the girls, she’s someone who was only interested in "diminishing others with her beauty" — something she never did, but never even had the chance to defend herself.

Thanks to that, yuzu is forced to grow up without having an identity of her own, but one forced on her, causing her to rebel and refuse to open up to new people. she had her feelings denied, being defended only when there was a sexual/romantic interest in the mix and forced to believe that she was being selfish for denying such a privilege of being "spoiled" and "admired" by everyone, all the time.

yuzu gets her chance to be valued as a person when she enters high school and meets mitsumi and the other girls. she is, for the first time, seen as a person, seen as a yuzuki, seen as someone who has the right to impose herself and be selfish, something she has never been able to be before. her feelings are not diminished or seen as "not valid enough” but most importantly: she’s finally heard.

and then, i think we have one of the most important “i love you like a person” moment: the breakup chapter. chapter 46 is a huge twist to skip to loafer’s romantic narrative, which i myself appreciate a lot. kind of a personal twist here, but it’s a breath of fresh air for someone like me, a demi girl, who always had a little trouble with understanding love when i was their age — and now, basically ten years later, mitsumi’s words not only reached shima, but it also reached me and other thousands of readers who needed to hear something like that.

but well, let’s get back on track. chapter 46 is one of the first times we see shima talking about his past relationship with other people and going a little more in-depth with his relationship with his mom. the core message of it all and the core line that guides all of his personal connections is very simple and highlight why shima have so many trust issues: no one ever saw him as a person, but only as a status object, as someone who was there to be used for their own benefit. shima was used by his mother when she forced him to keep on acting, was used by his peers in a situation a little similar with yuzuki (ofc not completely equal, because we need to remember that gender roles also have a huge influence on how both stories developed (see ririka, for exemple. i have a whole thread on her as well, but this is another topic), when both felt like they were nothing but puppets to the ones around him.

when shima is sitting by mitsumi’s side, he starts to wonder if he really deserves all of that, if he really deserves someone like mitsumi near him. he doesn’t understand his feelings as a whole, because he was never given the opportunity to really explore them and try to dissect it all — this is brought up once again on chapter 53, when he starts to discuss with mukai what it means to love someone in a romantic way (and why loving them as a person isn’t enough on society’s eyes).

he’s not, at any point, using mitsumi or making fun of her feelings. imagine if you were never allowed to think for yourself and then, suddenly, you have the freedom to do so. how does one express something they never had? how does one understand what it means to have a feeling, any feeling, if all they ever felt was guilt?

and that’s when the bigger bomb hits the scene: mitsumi, seeing how troubled he is, shows how important he is and how she values him as a person. it might seem silly to a lot of people, but just hearing someone saying “i will always like you as a person, no matter who you end up being” when all you ever heard in your life was how useless you were, makes you whole world crumble on the spot. he was seen, he was heard, he was understood. mitsumi valued him to the point of assuring him that a romantic relationship wasn’t more important than the platonic one they had. isn’t that beautiful?

to finish it off, i think the conversation the girls have on chapter 57 is also extremely important to the narrative and to the overall message. by not wanting the girls to see shima in a terrible light, mitsumi is, once again, putting their relationship as friends above any other romantic relationship they could have. she shows how much she values him and how much he is important to her — she sees shima as a person, not as an object.

and then, makoto comes to picture with a beautiful speech about how loving someone (any kind of love, not one or another) is to hope that they are happy, content, being taking care of and being comfortable with their own feelings. by forcing someone to feel anything you selfish want, you’re not valuing them as a person with their own feelings and insecurities, but only seeing them as a way to satisfy yourself.

of course, i’m not here to defend everyone and say that they never hurt anyone. yes, shima did hurt mitsumi and she still not completely over it, but she’s way worried with losing him as a friend than forcing something out of a relationship that both don’t feel very comfortable with. mitsumi herself is also someone who is slowly understanding her feelings and understanding what it means to love romantically — but never putting the platonic side aside, since there is no right way to love someone.

thank you so much for reading!! i hope i was clear about the points i was trying to bring up, but i'm always open to discussion!!! 💛

#skip to loafer #skip and loafer #iwakura mitsumi #shima sousuke #mika egashira #yuzuki murashige #nao iwakura #me having flashbacks of my own self discovery #this manga is just a gem #i will never get tired of talking about it #duckmetas #skip to loafer spoilers #skip and loafer spoilers #stl spoilers

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gojhoes · 4 months

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Bleed Me Dry

*art from nerdreamer | *divider from benkeibearnever written anything like this before but yolo (also this art is PHENOMENAL)

- contents: sfw, college au, no jujutsu sorcerers/cursed spirits au, jumping on the vampire au train, gojo x reader (ofc), fem!reader, characters in their early 20s, mutual pining - warnings: stalking, bodily fluids, drugs and alcohol. - wc: ~4.3k

Have you ever met someone and felt that you knew them in the past life?

You'd never much cared for religion, nor did you think much about the possibility of an afterlife. There were too many denominations for a single one to be correct. Not at all worth the millennia of wars waged in the name of someone's God. How was a god supposed to be benevolent and holy when they inspire such violence? Yes, you were a cynic through and through, remaining skeptical of all things damned and divine.

But then you met Satoru Gojo, and all that stubborn disbelief fell to pieces.

It was the weekend before the beginning of your final year of college. You'd been dragged along to some party being thrown by a friend-of-a-friend's-friend to kick off the start of the semester. Shoko, your roommate and impromptu best friend, was crushing hard on one of the boys in some club of hers, and she'd asked you to join her as moral support.

Just like the venue, the party itself was nothing special. In someone's parents' house that was already well on its way to being trashed, the room smelled of marijuana and faintly of unpleasantly scented air freshener. You recognized a few people, as the university that you attended was a rather small private technical school. Everybody seemed to know everybody even if you considered yourself an introvert.

You and Shoko found yourselves sitting around a card table with several others amid a very serious drinking game. Shoko was trying her best, but the poor girl was already three shots in while you sat back and observed.

"Aren't you going to talk to him?" you encouraged, following Shoko's line of sight until it landed on a tall blonde leaning against the wall. He was good-looking with his broad shoulders and neatly groomed hair that complemented the glasses hanging from the bridge of his nose. You could easily see why Shoko was interested in him.

"He's tall," you commented.

Shoko was beaming, her eyes practically heart-shaped while she talked about him. "He goes by Nanami- we were in the same research group last semester. And he plays rugby."

Shoko was a Microbio major carving her path to medical school. If this mystery classmate took the same courses as her, then he must've been smarter than you'd originally given him credit for.

You grinned mischievously. “Go,” you said.

She gaped at you, her brown eyes wide with fear. “I can’t!”

You pushed her bodily with your hand on her back, urging her to go to talk to this Nanami. She stumbled a bit, already tipsy, and shot you a glare.

“Go," you insisted. "I'm going to find food.”

Ignoring Shoko's frustrated groan, you trickled over to the kitchen adjacent to the living room. You couldn't deny that you were bored, but leaving simply was not an option with how obsessed Shoko was with this guy. The kitchen was void of people, but someone had mercifully left out a fruit tray that appeared untouched in comparison to the picked-over coolers of beer. Working as a bartender had diminished your cravings for the stuff, so you avoided it wholly.

Just as you turned to re-enter the living room, you slammed right into something solid, a person, and let out a yelp. Your plate fell to the ground, the carefully chosen grapes bouncing in a thousand different directions. To your dismay, a good portion of them rolled underneath the fridge, out of reach and surely to rot later.

"Shit- I'm so sorry!" you cried, ducking down to immediately retrieve your fallen mess.

The victim of your attack kneeled beside you to help, which was a kind gesture, but it only helped to embarrass you further. You glanced up to apologize again, silently regretting every choice you'd made in your life thus far.

"You didn't have to-"

But the words stopped dead in your throat. Your victim was beautiful, breathtakingly so. Crystalline blue eyes that met yours, snow white hair brushing just above matching eyebrows. Ivory skin and pink lips that looked so soft and perfect it made your mouth go dry.

And then he smiled. "It's okay- I move quietly." He dropped a grape onto the half-crushed plate in your hand while you forced yourself to rise back to your full height. He followed suit, towering over you so much that you had to tilt your head to view his face.

But it wasn’t just his striking features that threw you so much- it was the familiarity, the nostalgia that flowed through you when you properly looked at him. In the moments that followed, you were able only to stare while you tried to recall just where you'd seen him before.

"Oh," he said, plucking the plate from your grasp. He turned and reached behind him to toss it into the trash with ease. His periwinkle button-up stretched across the expanse of his shoulders as he did so. You made yourself look away.

"Um," you cleared your throat. "Thanks."

He chuckled at that and extended his hand for you to shake. You couldn’t help but to notice the delicate nature of his long, pale fingers, reminding you much of a pianist’s. Your hands connected in the briefest handshake you’d ever participated in. His touch was cold, so much so that you couldn’t help but to jerk your hand away when the skin made contact.

Your eyes flicked up to his, illuminated blue in the dim light of the kitchen. You blinked as he held your gaze steadily, unable to shake that feeling that you’d seen him before. You were aware that you were staring at this point, but you were determined to recall this man's identity.

"Satoru," he said greeting. Not familiar, you thought.

You relayed your own name before asking, "Do I know you?"

Satoru tilted his head to the side, smirking as though he was in on some joke that you wouldn’t get. “I never forget a face, and I certainly wouldn’t forget yours.”

Even though the comment made you blush, you hummed. “Smooth. But seriously, weren't you in Dr. Kusakabe's organic chem class, like, last spring?"

"I can assure you that I have never seen you before," Satoru insisted. "Are you sure you just haven't been drinking too much?"

You scoffed at the accusation, a small smile tugging at your lips from his teasing. "No, I haven't been drinking, thank you very much. Somebody's got to keep my friend alive."

You glanced back at the fruit tray and immediately thought of those stupid grapes. "Do you see a broom anywhere?"

"I'm afraid those poor grapes are forever lost," Satoru said mournfully.

You let out a melodramatic sigh, smiling a little when you met his gaze once more.

His lashes fluttered, and then you saw him stiffen as though something suddenly pained him. Small, clammy hands landed on your bare shoulders, and you started, though you knew exactly who the offender was.

“Why are you hiding from me?” Shoko whined, her words slurring.

You pried her hands from your shoulders and peered down at her. She was swaying a little and the smell of liquor on her breath was all but apparent. You suddenly remembered your forgotten promise that you’d stick with her throughout the night, feeling a little guilty at the pouty expression on her face.

“Sorry, Shoko,” you said. “I was just looking for a snack.”

Shoko noticed Satoru then, who had taken a full step away while his fingers fluttered wildly by his side. So peculiar, you thought.

"Oh-" she hiccupped. "Hiii. I didn't see that she was talking to you."

Satoru didn’t reach out to shake her hand, you noticed, opting only to nod his head in greeting as he smiled in a way that didn't quite reach his eyes.

“No trouble,” he said fluidly. He then fixated his gaze back to yours, “If you’ll excuse me.”

He stepped out of the kitchen, and at least Shoko waited until he'd walked away to ask, "who was that?"

You shook your head as you watched him disappear into the throng of people scattered about the living room, stopping only when his white locks were no longer visible.

"Satoru."

The next week was spent with thoughts of Satoru scratching at the back of your head. During study breaks, you’d rack your brain trying to figure out where the fuck you knew him from. You were sure that you’d met him in the past; maybe he had been an elementary classmate? Maybe he worked at one of the local grocery stores or the café down the street? The possibilities were endless, but still, the mental search persisted. He even appeared in your dream the very night of the party, standing tall and fair with his back toward you.

Friday night was arguably the busiest at the bar. It was a flurry of drink orders, checking IDs, and straining to hear customers over the cacophony of voices. But you preferred the busy evening shifts– the bustle made the time fly. And it occupied your mind in a way that kept you from thinking about everything else, at least temporarily.

But after the last call for alcohol, a lull finally fell into place, and you began with your housekeeping tasks. Small things such as wiping down the bar and prepping garnishes and the like. Mentally, you’d already clocked out and were at home watching the new episode of your favorite anime. You were distracted, not all the way present, and you had your back to the bar. That’s why you were startled when you turned around to see that Satoru had materialized on the other side.

You flinched and your eyes went wide as your hand flew to your chest as if to steady yourself. “Oh sh– hey, it’s you! You scared me.”

Satoru raised his hands and grinned wickedly. “Boo.”

Never mind that he hadn’t been anywhere near the bar in the five seconds it’d taken you to do a 360. But your heart rate returned to normal, and you drank in his appearance. Still gorgeous, even in the bar’s poor lighting. He wore a collarless black sweater with sleeves that were too long even for him, and a pair of gray slacks. The neutral tones made his blue eyes appear even brighter, seeming almost to glow.

“Aren’t you going to order something?” you asked teasingly. “It’s past last call, but I’m sure I can make an exception.”

Satoru purred, maintaining that wicked smile from before. “You’re too kind to me.”

“Please, I insist.” You cupped your hands around your mouth and leaned over the bar so that your fingers just barely were brushing the shell of his ear.

“It’s on the house,” you faux-whispered, trying to ignore the way his hair tickled your skin for the briefest of moments before you pulled away.

He swallowed, the first sign of hesitation you’d seen since meeting him. Not that you knew him well, but he otherwise moved so confidently and with such intention that the gesture seemed out of place on him.

“I’m afraid I don’t drink.”

“I can make you something virgin,” you urged, wiggling your eyebrows. You were being unnecessarily insistent, pushing a little hard, but you felt this inexplicable urge to impress him. To serve him...? It was your job, after all, to make drinks that people would enjoy.

And then he replied, his voice firm but not unkind, “I have to decline, but I deeply appreciate your offer.”

You sighed and made a point of overdramatizing your disappointment. “Some other time, then. I’ll get you something good to drink, just you wait.”

An unnamable expression flashed over his features, quickly replaced by another disarming smile. You weren’t sure if it was the dim lighting of the bar, but his pallor seemed more translucent than before, the color blending in with his pale hair. His eyes were nearly glowing, nearly burning and you found yourself trying to differentiate all the shades of blue within his irises before he cleared his throat, and you realized you had been staring.

“Sorry,” you said quickly, cursing the blush that crept high on your cheeks. “I just.. I swear that I’ve seen you before somewhere. It’s kind of driving me crazy.”

Satoru tilted his head in question, a mannerism of his that you’d picked up on. “Is that right?”

Okay, you were definitely into this guy, no doubt about it. How could you not be? He was insanely, unfairly attractive, and though you’d just met (SUPPOSEDLY), you couldn’t help but to feel that you were connected to him in some way. That was a scary thought, one you shoved down before it could fester along with your other delusions.

The bar where you worked was close to campus and being part of a chain, its main demographic for business was students. It was a simple coincidence for Satoru to be there. Maybe that’s where you knew him from- it wasn’t a total impossibility; you'd served thousands of people since starting there.

“When are you off?”

You glanced down at the small watch face adorning your wrist, pretending to squint as anxiety slithered into your gut. Guys had asked you that same question in the past after mistaking good bartending for flirting. Satoru was charming, but he was still a stranger, and it was already well past 2am. But something about him pulled trust out of you like it was nothing. Like he was luring you in, a moth drawn to a flame.

“30 minutes,” you replied truthfully. “Maybe longer, depending on the crowd.”

"I want to take you to a cafe down the street," he said. "It's open all night, and I'm sure you must be starving after such a long shift."

Your stomach tattled on you before you got the chance to respond, growling loudly at the prospect of eating- you'd neglected to do so before coming in almost eight hours ago.

“I couldn't impose-”

He smiled at you as your words trailed off, and that voice in your head telling you to be careful was far too distant as you felt your resolve falter. “I insist.”

So at exactly three o'clock, standing with his hands in his pockets as he leaned against the wall was Satoru. He lifted his head when he heard the door open, smiling once he realized that it was you. You'd be a fool to deny how pretty he was when he looked at you like that.

“Shall we?” you said once you were standing at his side.

“Of course. It’s only a block or two.”

You turned to your right, moving to take the first step of many, when a large hand wrapped itself around your wrist. It couldn't have been colder than 60 degrees Fahrenheit, but even through your sleeve, you could feel the frigid cold of his fingers. You gasped at the sudden touch, flicking your eyes up to his, which were likely wide with alarm.

“Ah, ah,” Satoru said, releasing you from his grasp. “This way.”

You tried not to let show how freaked out that made you, blaming it on how quickly he’d moved to stop you. But he carried on nonchalantly as though it was something he did with everyone- perhaps, he did, if you thought about it. You focused only on following him dutifully and nothing else as he led the way.

"Do you always work nights?" he asked, breaking through the buzz of your overthinking.

You nodded, grateful for him breaking the silence. "My roommate says I'm crazy, but I prefer it. I take classes in the evenings, too, so I'm usually sleeping during the day."

Satoru held the door for you, gesturing widely as you passed over the threshold. You plucked a menu from the pocket by the door, vaguely recognizing the restaurant's logo; it was a simplified portrait of a dryad.

“Oh!” you exclaimed. “I feel like I’ve been here before. Maybe in high school…”

Satoru chuckled. “It’s only been open for about a year. Maybe you should get those false memories checked out.”

"Ha-ha."

You could feel his eyes on the back of your head like two pinpricks of ultraviolet light as you escorted yourself to an open table. He slid gracefully into the booth across from you, folding his legs in a way that couldn't be comfortable under the too-short table. You laid the menu flat as you peered over it.

"What's good here?" you asked.

Swiftly, he replied, "Everything. Plus, you can never go wrong with chicken tenders."

"This is true."

You decided on a ham and Emmental baguette and a glass of cherry juice -they actually had it!-, opting to keep it simple. You noticed that Satoru hadn't grabbed a menu himself, but thought better than to comment on it. Besides, who were you to pry into the specifics of someone else's eating habits?

You slipped the straw dipped in your drink between two fingers, toying with it nervously. "So, what year are you?"

"Ah, I just graduated," Satoru replied, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. "And you're a senior, right?"

Your eyebrows knit together as you tilted your head to the side just slightly. "How'd you know?"

Satoru didn't miss a beat. "You had that look about you at the party. And since you're old enough to bartend, I filled in the blanks."

When he put it that way, the logic seemed sound enough for you to safely dismiss it without a second thought.

"Quite the sleuth, are you?" you teased.

Satoru chuckled breathily. Before either of you could ask any more questions, your food magically appeared before you. Neither of you had indicated that this was a date, but you still wanted to at least try and appear well-mannered, so you ignored the urge to fall upon the sandwich.

"Are you sure you don't want some?" you asked, holding the half out to him.

Satoru raised a hand. "No, thank you, I ate not too long ago. Please, go on."

"I just feel bad."

But you figured it would be more rude to continue pestering him, so you decided just to suck it up and eat. You were starving anyway. You sunk your teeth into the sandwich, but you misjudged the force necessary to bite through the thick bread. Sharp pain lanced through your tongue and a familiar tanginess flooded your mouth.

"Fuck," you muttered. "Bit my tongue."

As politely as you could, you brought a napkin to your mouth and spit into it before folding it neatly to hide the blood. “Sorry.”

Satoru's eyes had grown wide as he stared down at the napkin. A muscle twitched in his jaw, and you suddenly grew more embarrassed. Had you really grossed him out that much? It was just a little blood and it wasn't exactly a Michelin star restaurant.

But as though you imagined it, that discomfort morphed into a smile so radiant you forgot he'd been unsettled in the first place. The bleeding stopped, thankfully, and you slowly but steadily made your way through the sandwich. While you ate, you and Satoru passed questions and answers back and forth like a badminton game.

He'd declined your offer to make him a drink and was refusing to eat anything now, but you thought little of it until you watched as he took the smallest sip from his glass of water. He made a face as though it tasted utterly foul. It was city water, after all, but he looked physically unwell after setting the glass back on the table.

“Are you okay?” you asked. “You look a little pale.”

He shook his head, making the stands of his white hair bounce comically. “Just tired. I didn’t expect to be out so late.”

You couldn’t deny the little stab of disappointment that shot through you, though your watch did read a quarter-to-four. Sure, you were off tomorrow, but that didn't mean that Satoru wasn't.

“Oh,” you said. “Well, I’m ready anytime, then.”

The second you place your dishes at the end of the table, Satoru sprung out of his spot in the booth and started for the door. His height must've been the reason he moved so fast, and you had to scramble out of the booth and run to catch up with him. You grabbed your coat from the rack and shrugged it on before following him through the door.

You turned to look at Satoru to somehow gauge the state of his wellbeing, only to catch him staring at you with stormy eyes and parted lips. Weren't you going to ask him something? But then he blinked away the intensity you'd seen, a placid expression replacing it instantly.

“One second," Satoru quickly added. “Wait here.”

He bolted back inside like a bullet from a gun, furiously jangling the bunch of bells that hung above the inside of the door. So, you waited, poking your head through the window to see just what he was doing. He was standing over the table where you'd both been seated just a minute before, but you couldn't see much more than that. He must've forgotten something, or maybe he just wanted to give his compliments to the chef- or something.

"Forgot my wallet," he said in explanation once he'd joined you at your spot by the curb. You nodded as he confirmed your first theory.

Satoru had both of his hands shoved into his pockets precariously as he rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet. It seemed childish at first, but that quickly turned to endearment when you realized that he was nervous. "Would you want to do this again sometime?"

You smiled at him, touched by how sweetly he'd worded the question. You reached out to touch him in some way so he knew your next words were sincere, but he stood in a way that would've made it painfully awkward to do so, so you let your arm fall limp at your side.

"If you ever want to grab a bite, I'll be awake." you answered before the two of you parted ways for good.

All you knew was that you wanted to see him again, wanted to see this strange man you'd met by chance and break past his walls and excessive smiles. And you wanted him to tell you where you'd seen him before- maybe you were delusional, but you had an inkling that he knew exactly what you'd been talking about.

What you didn't know was that Satoru had followed you for the entirety of your walk home, slipping in and out of the shadows as he debated whether to reach for you. Sitting across from you in the booth had been torturous, especially once you'd bitten your tongue. The napkin that now sat in his pocket seemed to burn a hole straight through to the bone. Any of your blood would have long since dried, but it was yours, and for now, it would have to do.

His hand hovered over the doorknob- hadn't anyone taught you to always lock your door? He heard you shuffling around inside, the clinking of drinking glasses and silverware being put away. The mundanity of you tidying your kitchen was a slap in his face. You were still living, still warm-bodied and radiant. Not cursed, as he was, with a full life ahead of you that would end peacefully. There would come a day when you would close your eyes and they would not again open. It would be completely and utterly selfish of him to do something as stupid as tampering with something as precious as your life.

But the urge persisted, as it had for months, inspiring the most selfish ideals he’d ever before been plagued with. And that selfishness was what made him believe that he truly was a monster deserving of his fate. That selfishness made him into who he was.

If he'd never seen you that night just a few short months before, he would've long since left this forsaken city. He wouldn't be trapped here by the longing he felt for you. He wouldn't be such a damned mess, going to parties and putting himself directly into situations he should be avoiding at all costs. All the lies and the hiding started to add up after a while; soon he’d be so deeply intwined in a wreck of a story that would be too much to keep up with. He’d slip up eventually; he always did.

The party had been the absolute last straw. Suguru had advised him not to go, but Satoru was a social creature, and he still enjoyed bantering and foolishness as he had during his waking life. And as was commonplace as of late, anywhere you went, so would Satoru, because that's just the type he was.

He had not planned on getting as close as he did though. Quite literally, you’d been on top of him even if it was for only a second. But it had been enough to break through the delicate semblance of control he’d had hanging by a thread. The sheer pleasure he got from your scent alone was something he’d learned he needed; it was more than a want. Even now, the bits of you he could pick up on through the door had some kind of trancelike effect on him.

But as Satoru turned his back to your apartment, fists clenched by his sides from the sheer amount of effort it took, he admitted to himself that Suguru had been right. He shouldn't have gone, because it sealed the fact that his every moment would be consumed by thoughts of you.

Confession: I ship Shoko and Nanami SO HARD. They're both water signs, too. I love symbolism and foreshadowing more than anything else in this world.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #satoru gojo #satoru gojo x reader #modern au #college au #vampire au #gojo headcanons #gojo x reader fluff #gojo fluff #nanami kento #shoko ieiri #suguru geto #gojo x you

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juuuulez · 12 days

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📰 | richie jerimovich x reader ; “Princess,” part two.

📖 -> part one.

info: Richie Jerimovich x reader, no use of (y/n), allusions to sex, kissing, smoking weed, alcohol consumption, overall generally pretty fluffy, Richie wants what’s best for you, king of self control bro is trying so hard.

omg this has been sitting in my drafts for like a week SORRY. but anyway i think this was sweet and is so richie’s growth and awareness era i think he’s trying so hard and is doing an amazing job.

let me know what you all think 😝😝

The floorboards are cold, where you’re sitting against Richie’s door, waiting for him to return from work. 10pm sharp? Yeah, right. Though, you’ve never known Richie to be a punctual man, so it doesn’t bother you that much. Anybody else, and you would have left. But maybe you’ve missed Richie more than you’ll let on.

The 6 pack of beers has already diminished, a half-drunk bottle nursed in your hand, the liquid warming with the air. Heavy footsteps are heard from the stairwell, promoting your head to tilt towards the corridor.

10:23pm, there he is.

Before he’s even approached you, he’s apologising, fumbling with a set of keys inside the pocket of a leather jacket. “Fuck. I’m so sorry, princess,” Richie is cursing. “Carmy was bein’ a massive bitch, and apparently there’s a gas leak ‘n—“

The rambling stops, Richie assumably coming to his senses as he eyes you, sitting on the floor, drink in hand.

“Doesn’t really matter, does it?” He relents, sounding uncharacteristically guilty.

So you simmer on the thought, rolling it around like a pearl, sucking on the inside of your teeth. Finally, you come to stand, not reaching anywhere near Richie’s height.

“Mr. New York?”

A grin breaks out on Richie’s face at your clarification, tone questioning despite the fact that you’re sure, that you remember all of those little conversations. About a dozen people, only made real in your brain, courtesy of Richie’s overzealous descriptions of every little problem in his life.

Sure, he was just your dealer. Just a guy you hooked up with occasionally. But that doesn’t mean you didn’t listen, right?

“Good fuckin’ girl.” He grumbles in approval, a spare hand coming to rub the back of your neck. It’s an intoxicating movement, makes your body warm and fuzzy, a pleasant shiver running down your spine.

Richie unlocks the door, the jangling of keys sounding through the hallway. Always the gentleman, he holds it open for you, a smug grin on his face.

“Already made a dent in the beer. Couldn’t wait,” You muse, fingers hooking into the cardboard handle of the 6-pack. “Y’know, this better be worth it.”

“You’ll be right.” Richie dismisses, his eyes following your form as you saunter into his apartment, already so familiar with the place.

He dumps a plastic bag down on the floor, the clutter making an indistinct noise you don’t care to expand on. The beers are placed on the table, and you’re quick to settle into his couch, shoes discarded and knees tucked to your chest.

“So…” Richie begins, coming to stand next to the couch. “Did you want some food?”

Your gaze flickers to him, soaking in how he seems to be a little nervous, a little hesitant. So different. “You know what I’m here for, Richard.”

“Jesus Christ. Don’t call me that, it’s weird.” He outwardly cringes at your words, retreating further down the hallway to retrieve the subject of the night.

In your eyes, it was a little amusing. He’d changed, certainly, but you understood why. Maybe Richie’s party days were over, but you’re certainly weren’t.

Your hands find the TV remote, switching it on. It’s been left to Netflix, some kids cartoon looping in the background from when Eva was here, the colours bright and characters animated. Clicking your tongue, you call out to Richie. “Big fan?”

He comes down the hall a few seconds later, nodding towards the TV. “What, of Adventure Time? Fuck yeah. Shits awesome.”

It makes your face split into a grin, a notion he catches onto. Richie leans down, sitting next to you with a joint poised between large fingers, which you eagerly take. Fetching the lighter, you spark the flame, taking a deep inhale to burn the bud inside.

The lighter falls from your hands, Richie scooping it up to light his own cigarette.

“Blazing tonight?” You ask him, a curious lilt to your voice. It’s not often he doesn’t jump at the opportunity.

“Nah,” Richie waves his hand. “Not much, at least.”

Rolling your eyes, you relax back into the couch. “Party pooper.”

Regardless of the quip, Richie’s big hands find your legs, wrapping around your calves and pulling you further down the couch, so you’re lying on your back, and your legs spread across his lap. They rest there, warm over your jeans.

The joint doesn’t last long, you’re antsy to get it through your system. The next one is cradled a little slower, where Richie even takes a few drags, though you can tell he isn’t hungry for it like you are. Cartoons buzz in the background, a distant noise, and the beers quickly disappear leaving you in a giggly stupor.

You end up in a new position: Richie is lying on the couch, his firm chest against your own, with your chin propped up against him. There’s a grin on your face, chewing down on chapped lips, looking as pleased as a goddamn cat. His hands are planted on you, warm over your back, holding you firm and close. Your fingers fiddle with the gold chain around his neck, tugging and twisting it absentmindedly.

Then, his mouth is warm on yours. Hot tongue sliding against hot tongue. It’s unclear who initiated it, but that doesn’t matter, because he tastes like mint gum and nicotine. You probably taste like weed, but Richie doesn’t care, for it’s easy to get lost in the sensation of you. Like a familiar pattern, someone he can come back to when all else fails, someone who he doesn’t need to try for. You’ll always have him.

Your hands travel down the expanse of his torso, finding the band of his sweats. The fabric is soft and you savour the sensation for a moment, every piece of stimuli feeling that much better, like a prickly fog has overcome your mind and makes your body tingle. You press further, dipping your fingers under the band, which makes Richie grunt into your mouth.

“C’mon,” He mumbled against your lips. “Hands off, sweetheart.”

It takes so much effort to pull away, faces inches from each other. And fuck, your eyes are red, glassy and lidded as you stare at him with a mix of satisfaction and tired lust. It’s sleepy and quiet and feels perfect.

“What’s up?” You ask him.

But he just shakes his head, blue eyes still studying you. “Nothin’ s’up.”

You’re sceptical, of course, because when has Richie ever refused sex? Not with you, at least, and certainly not like this. The thought doesn’t simmer long in your mind, because the grin is soon returning, with a poorly suppressed giggle as you shift a little atop him, pressing your hips down against his own.

“I can feel you.” You tell him, utterly amused by the notion of his arousal beneath you. The sweats do little to contain it, and you can tell that Richie finds the situation enticing, his length hardening slowly under the heat of your clothed body.

The giggles don’t stop, seeming to have hit at the worst possible time, but you feel completely smitten. Your head ducks down against his shoulder, to which Richie pats over your hair, holding you close. He’s breathing steadily, one… two… three…, all in an effort to not flip you into the couch and fuck you right there.

“I know, baby. It’s ‘cus ya fuckin sexy,” He mumbles into your hair, which only provokes another round of snorted giggles from your form. “Trust me, I’d give the world to fuck you right now, princess. You wouldn’t be able to walk for a goddamn week.”

You look back up at him, still smiling and happy, albeit a little sleepy. Everything is blurred and fuzzy, and you can imagine how good the sex would feel right now. “Then do it.” You urge him, tongue darting out to wet your lips, despite the dry state of your mouth.

And it’s so goddamn hard to resist. Because right now, it’s all Richie wants to do. But there’s this stupid voice in his head, telling him no: that’s a terrible idea, he can’t do you like this anymore. He doesn’t want to be the person you come to for drugs or sex. That’s not healthy, and it won’t stop if he keeps indulging in it.

Even if he can feel your clothed breasts against his body, and his dick twitches with each of your words, cursing his mind for being such a massive cock-block.

“Hey, you can barely keep your eyes open.” He points out, brushing back your hair to get a better look at your face. It’s true, you’re drunk and high, drowsy eyes blinking up at him with a smug little grin.

You must know that, too, for you rest your head back down on his chest. If he won’t fuck you, at least you’ll probably have the best nap of your life like this. His heartbeat is audible from this position, and you press your nose closer into his shirt, inhaling a deep breath of musk and man and smoke. “You’re just lucky this is really good weed,” You mumble with a deep sigh, “But you owe me a lay.”

“I know princess,” Richie agrees, his voice low and so close to your ear, the only thing you’re truely aware of anymore. “Maybe.. maybe I’ll take you out, huh?”

The suggestion has his mouth going dry, and not from the weed. It’s slightly timid in the way his tone drops an octave, a tad quieter, simultaneously hoping you’re too stoned to remember but also lucid enough to answer honestly.

“What, like a fuckin’ date? Gross.” You shoot back, the words crude and playful. Your discontent is betrayed by the grin on your face, nose scrunched up in amusement, to which Richie pinches at your ass through those jeans.

“Not gross. I’d be a goddamn gentleman.” He pressed back, conscience lightened at how easily you take the suggestion. His hands soothe the curve of your back, following a trail up your spine, and back down.

It’s calming, and with your eyes closed, it feels like you’re near floating. The distance between you and Richie is nonexistent, like you’ve melted into him, a heaviness over your mind that feels like a weighted blanket.

“M’kay,” You manage to mumble with the last of your awareness. “I’ll hold you to it.”

And he lets it go, for now. Because that’s a positive answer, and you’re practically falling asleep. Richie is glad you can’t see his smile, how happy that idea makes him, the mental image of taking you out like a regular couple. Maybe he’ll wear his nice dress shirt, a tie if you’re lucky, and take you to some restaurant. Bore you with his stupid stories and have a glass of wine, and then, take you home… give you the night you deserve, something calm and loving and (most importantly) sex you’d actually remember in the morning.

You fall asleep on his chest, dreaming of the same thing.

#the bear fx #richie jerimovich x reader #richie jerimovich x you

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spooklies · 6 months

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# Fairytale - Yan!Mark Grayson x F!Reader

♡ ... › “Life itself is a most wonderful Fairytale.” - In which she comes to terms with a reality that doesn’t feel real.

── Words - 1.1K

♡ ... › Warning(s) - Graphic depictions of harm. Domestic abuse. Minor character death. Brief mentions of a panic attack.

── A/N - This is based off that version of Mark where he’s evil. No spoilers for that though! Think of this as an au of an au.

She figured the last of her friends were now dead as she watched their hideout burn from outside on the street, her knees bloodied from the concrete she slid on and her shoulder dislocated from the compact. Her friends didn’t scream – they were never given the opportunity to before he rigged the place to blow.

Opening her trembling fingers revealed a picture of herself from childhood. She stared into her younger counterpart's eyes, already knowing the way they viewed the world differed due to recent events. She lived in an apocalypse while her younger self lived every day as if it were a fairytale and she was the princess the story centered on. Except now there weren’t sparkly dresses or even flashier tiaras. Just death. Every street she walked on was a reminder of the kind of world she lived in with a dead body occupying every other mile. For a while, she was able to tell herself that despite all of this chaos, she still had people to keep her afloat and from drowning in all that grief.

But because of her, they’re gone now – dead from an explosion caused by her carelessness. They had warned her about going out and the risk she posed on their whole operation being found if she did. But Y/n had insisted she grabbed at least one piece of memorabilia before they hunkered down for an indefinite amount of time. If only she had listened. It wasn’t worth it, they were right. And she’d tell them as much if they were still around to listen.

She could only hope their deaths were quick and painless. But knowing Mark he would somehow find a way to draw out their ends in the worst way possible if only to prove a point to her. She found it hard to believe that a man she once loved was capable of such cruelty. It was as if a switch had been flipped the moment he and his father had that argument. The Mark she’d fallen in love with had become more rash, not at all caring about the consequences of his actions even if it meant those actions put her in harm's way. His new viewpoint on life was pessimistic whereas it was once optimistic. His trust in her had diminished into nothing and he’d become strict, not letting her do as she pleased if she didn’t have his permission to. He had explained that he’d made more enemies and that going out was dangerous since they most likely knew how much she meant to him.

After many arguments, she was forced to come to terms that the man she’d fallen in love with was gone. This new sinister version of her boyfriend contrasted too greatly with the sweet and selfless version she’d been in love with. All of the love that once warmed her chest lost its warmth and turned cold. Staring into Mark’s eyes no longer filled her with butterflies and instead made dread coil deep within her gut. Danger. Mark was dangerous, sure, she’d always known what he was capable of once he’d revealed his identity as Invincible. But she never once suspected that he’d use that power for bad – never once believed he’d use that power to make her life as well as others a living hell.

So she ran and never looked back. It had been a good six months since they last saw each other and she knew he’d find her eventually with all of the influence he now holds. She had just hoped he wouldn’t have gone this far and that the Mark she loved was still in there with all of that humanity that made him who he was.

Mark’s yellow uniformed feet landed in her peripherals, an eager skip to his step as he approached her and crouched down, his hand gently placed on top of her head. If she shut her eyes she could delude herself into thinking she wasn’t trapped in a nightmare and instead back to the time when everything was good in her life. When she was treated like a princess from a fairytale by the man who acted as her doting prince.

“Y/n…” He whispered lowly, his actions now mirroring that of an owner disowning their pet when his grip tightened on her hair. She winced, and Mark paid no mind to it. “Look where running got you.” She didn’t respond and Mark took that as his cue to continue speaking. “Aw, don’t be like that. Your friends were lucky to have survived this long, those who are part of the resistance die in worse ways than they did.” At the mention of your friends his tone turned ominous, a clear distaste apparent.

She tilted her head up so she was looking at Mark, mirth absent in a place where it was once believed to be forever stagnant. He showed no authentic sympathy for everything he’s done, though that should have been something she expected.

“You’re bleeding all over. C’mon, let’s get you cleaned up. I know someone who–”

She smacked his hand away and backed up as much as she could before her ankle was grabbed in a vice-like grip, Mark’s strength keeping her from moving any further.

“Y/n, you’re not going to make this any more difficult than you already have, are you?” He asked in that same sing-song voice, an obvious threat hidden underneath the tone that did not go unnoticed. She opened and closed her mouth, begging for her mind to get out of her thoughts but ultimately coming up empty. Mark made a noise of disapproval and grabbed onto her leg with both hands. “You’re lucky this is all I’ve done so far, I could have done so much worse by now.”

The crack her leg made when Mark split it in two was booming and was heard over the blood pumping in her ears and soon after she was screaming out in agony. Mark had his hand back over her hair, stroking it in downward motions as he hushed her as if she were throwing a childish tantrum.

“It hurts, doesn’t it?” He said softly. “Now imagine this pain but worse then you’ll know exactly how I’ve felt all this time without you.” If she was frantic before then she was beyond that now. She shook her head back and forth, letting out incoherent words between sobs. Mark watched on with disinterested eyes and then grabbed onto her other leg. Y/n tried to wring her leg out from his grasp before he inevitably broke that one too. But her attempts were all futile. She had passed out from the pain not too soon after her legs were both broken and when she came back into consciousness she was being carried by Mark through the air. The burning sensation that encompassed her thighs down was now a dull throb in the back of her mind as she cried silently in Mark’s arms. The picture that had cost her friends their lives nowhere to be found.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere mark Grayson #yandere invincible #yandere mark grayson x reader #yandere invincible x reader

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antimatterz · 11 months

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a game of mario kart

gepard, dan heng, sampo, welt, jing yuan x gn!reader

what it's like to play mario kart with them.

content under the cut | masterlist

gepard landau

he's very competetive, but sadly not too good at the game (sorry gepard). that doesn't diminish his fun, though! he still enjoys playing and eagerly joins every time you ask him.

yoshi main! don't ask, i can just see it.

probably forgets he's the captain of the silvermane guards and part of the royal family and goes all in. boyish laughs, maybe some curses that slip here and there, joyous high-fives every time you win and he ends up somewhere around the 12th place..

dan heng

he's pretty good at this game and likes playing it with you. he doesn't really seem excited when you aks him to join but the fact that he's never said no proves the opposite.

mains his mii character.

never loses his cool (okay, maybe you can see his left eye twitch when another blue shell hits him but can you blame him?) oh, tiny nearly-invisible smirk when he yeets a red shell at you and you pout at him.

sampo koski

beating him is nearly impossible. not because he is so good at mario kart, but because he knows all the hacks and shortcuts and all that stuff. and because he never loses, he particularly enjoys this game.

totally a waluigi main.

he finds it cute when you grow frustrated and teases you with it. still, he sometimes secretly lets you win to make sure you won't stop playing with him. and yk, he just hates seeing you upset.

welt yang

much like gepard, he isn't too good at this game. what sets him apart, though, it that he doesn't particularly enjoy it either. he just plays it with you sometimes, as he knows you like it. maybe he would get better if he played more often, but i don't think you'll ever find out.

doesn't really have a main.

welt loves your excitement when you win another race, which makes it worth the pain of playing a game he isn't good at. he basically just sees it as spending some quality time with you.

jing yuan

neither good or bad at the game. he wouldn't play when he's on his own but definitely sees the fun factor of playing it with you and you do so quite often. but rather than racing against you, he prefers to race on the same team.

daisy main because you once dared him to.

like dan heng, he never loses his cool, not even when all the odds are against him and one blue shell after another crashes down on him. he finds it cute when you burst out in laughter every time.

#hsr #honkai #honkai star rail #honkai: star rail #dan heng #dan heng x reader #gepard landau #gepard #gepard landau x reader #gepard x reader #sampo #sampo koski #sampo x reader #welt yang #welt x reader #jing yuan #jing yuan x reader #— enyo writes

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i-am-minty-fresh · 2 months

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This is what these characters add to a relationship/story according to me.

Zoro = Savory. He’s a filling character. He’s got bold elements that draw you in and leave you satisfied by the end. Balanced and warm. There’s no mysteries, no complicated fancy hooha that’s built like a distraction, nothing like that. He needs no flourish to be properly enjoyed.

Luffy = Sweet. I’m living on the high of his sugar rush. It makes you smile, and it rots your teeth. There may be variety but it’s constant and always enjoyable. Too much makes everything else seem dull by comparison. Charmed by the appearance and drawn towards the flavor, how could ever pick anything else?

Sanji = Sour/spicy. Gotta use this one sparingly or it’s soil the whole thing. It makes you pucker up, wince, maybe even cry. It hurts but Jesus don’t you just want more. Sometimes you’re not even sure if you’re supposed to like it. It’s not complicated, but it’s painful in a recognizable way. By itself, it hurts like hell…but paired with something else it becomes something great.

Sanji & Zoro: The hardiness of the food itself diminishes the pain felt, but never really gets rid of it. It brings some intrigue into a savory dish so you’re a paying a bit more attention because now there a details that you can miss.

Zoro & Luffy: You feel like a child, don’t’cha? You get all the rough and tumble adult shit but it’s coated in honey or maple or sided with some fresh fruit. The sweetness is the predominant flavor but the savory lets you take a nice nap afterward. It makes you happy but it also leave you feeling content by the end.

Luffy & Sanji: They should be at odds but when they mix it’s a celebration. The sour/spice should be the prevailing flavor but instead in blends nicely with the sugar making you almost forget the pain entirely. It might hurt a bit still but it feels worth it, because you earned the sugar that comes by the end.

#one piece #minty musings #monkey d luffy #black leg sanji #roronoa zoro #Zosan #Zolu #lusan #lusanzo

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sarucane · 6 months

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Why didn't Izzy shoot Ed (then)?

Turns out that teasing out character logic is fun and people are interested so I'll just do it again ;)

Izzy has good reasons to shoot Ed here. Ed shot his leg and then outsourced the "kill Izzy" job to Frenchie. Now Izzy's a one-legged pirate, and as far as he's concerned his life isn't even worth living.

But Izzy is alive here. And he's alive because of what started when the crew intervened a few episodes back, told him he was in a toxic relationship with Blackbeard. The choices he made after that led to Ed shooting him, but also sowed the seed of a real bond between him and the crew, which led to him being alive here. Which--most importantly for answering this question--adds up to Izzy not being sure anymore that the old way is the right way.

Ed thinks Izzy will shoot him because there's rules to follow. Izzy told Ed "Blackbeard is my captain, not Edward. Edward better watch his fucking step." Well, Ed has come to the conclusion that he can't not be Edward. And he doesn't want to keep living torn between Blackbeard and Edward, alone and hopeless. He's desperate to let go, and is convinced the only thing "letting go" means is death, so he's setting out to make someone force him to let go.

And Izzy is the obvious choice of someone to make him let go, because Izzy does what Blackbeard tells him to.

But it's no longer that simple on this ship. It never has truly been that simple--Izzy was in denial about how human beings work when he demanded Ed just be Blackbeard again. And Izzy's changed, too.

Ed and Izzy are both caught between two ways of being in this scene. On the one hand, there's the pirate script, the Code of the Sea. Life is cheap, new first mates kill old first mates, first mates kill captains. Weakness is death. Roles are static and permanent, and the only "correct" change is death.

On the other hand, there's the Revenge script, where "life means something" and people "live for each other, not just to survive." Where deviations from the norm aren't just accepted, they're encouraged. Where people can be vulnerable and be supported, be weak and still worthy of life. Where people can change.

When Izzy refuses to shoot Ed, he is embodying that conflict. Izzy doesn't shoot Ed because he finds he really is done with the script. Because when it comes down to it, he may have threatened him--but he does not want to kill Ed.

But rather than risk or show the kind of vulnerability he did right before Ed shot him, Izzy frames this in the old narrative terms. He expresses contempt for Ed, that it's weakness that is making Ed come to Izzy for an assisted suicide. Izzy calls him "Eddie" as a way of diminishing him. He uses the kind of language he used back in S1E4, falling back on ideas like 'making a mess' that make sense to him, but invalidate the seriousness of what's happening here.

But at the same time, Izzy's actually setting his first healthy boundary in his relationship with Ed. Not "you need to do/act/etc," but "I will/will not do/act/etc." Izzy's spent years encouraging, feeding, and enabling this toxicity. He's not going to anymore. And he's not going to do it because he knows it's wrong--but he can't say that. Maybe doesn't even really know it.

It's a truly mad mix of growth and regression, and it's no wonder that Izzy falls back on the old script when he's alone and tries to shoot himself. And it's also no wonder that he fails, because he knows this is the wrong way to be. That both he and Ed deserve better.

#ofmd s2 spoilers #ofmd #ofmd s2 #our flag means death #ofmd spoilers #ofmd meta #izzy hands #ed teach

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vigilskeep · 5 months

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do you ever get the impression that cassandra had a bigger role in the game(s) but due to retcons and a cut dlc she was reduced to a seeker who likes romance novels? she showed up in kirkwall with a number of subordinates, clearly had authority and was someone important, but in inquisition she is just a companion who is also "right hand of the divine," whatever that means. i really feel like she was intended to be a more major character, probably an antagonist, but isn't.

i don’t think cassandra was ever intended to be an antagonist, except in the way she performs that role at the start of the framing device in da2. we’re supposed to identify with cassandra in da2 as she is slowly won over by the romance of hawke’s story. that’s not a character we’re intended to fear later. she also shows up at the end with beloved good-aligned companion leliana, which despite leliana’s behaviour during seb’s personal quest, would still feel like a baffling choice for an antagonist setup. the interrogation ends with both varric and cassandra wishing each other the maker’s protection during these grim times. we’re meant to feel like there’s a real problem cass is trying to deal with and needs help for

you’re right that the cut exalted march dlc is worth mentioning. it’s hard to say how which way that would have turned the narrative, but it seems hard to believe we’d end up with the divine’s death and the ensuing inquisition portrayed as they are now. cass wasn’t already canonised as a hand of the divine back then, was she? i don’t know if she would have been involved, especially as da2 specifically sets her up for the inquisition

but i think there’s a much simpler way to explain cassandra’s diminished character in dai: she suffers under the curse of the Gaider Woman

david gaider’s dao prequel novel, the stolen throne, introduces us to the textbook Gaider Woman. this is rowan guerrin, maric’s warrior fiancée, who you won’t remember from dao because after having cailan, she died of Dead Mother Disease. it’s a tough life out there in fiction. anyway, rowan is a warrior fighting for her country’s freedom, who immediately gets pulled into an absurd love square, struggles with her feminine side including putting on a dress to try to win her man over, and at the end of the novel, coming to the conclusion that her purpose is to provide a soft comfort to her king when the world becomes too much: “perhaps this was what queens did. perhaps they held their kings in the darkness, deep within their castles and allowed them that moment of weakness they could never show to anyone else. perhaps they gave strength to their kings, because everyone else only took it from them.” (she arrives at this directly after he murders his other girlfriend and she has to comfort him about it. yes, that’s as insane as it sounds. don’t read the stolen throne.)

anyway, the author of this book is the man who wrote cassandra, a fact which i guessed before i even looked it up. why is her violence never taken seriously as a threat or problem? why must she have a softer, more feminine side? why must the narrative constantly congratulate itself for giving you a Strong Woman? because the way cassandra is written is simply how david gaider feels about women. she’s a cookie cutter example of how he writes them, rowan’s far from the only other one

i think plain old misogyny is far closer at hand than retcons in creating the cassandra we ended up with. and also the changes in how dragon age wants to deal with the chantry, which is separated from the templars and not a credible threat in itself but a handful of bickering old women who cannot do anything effectively (You’ll Never Guess What Gender It’s Run By And What Gender The Templars Are)

#cassandra pentaghast

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wishluc · 1 year

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hello! i love your writings so <3 the way you beautifully set up each prose is something worth applauding for!! since requests are open, i’ll bite ^^:

how about yan!heizou and blackmail?everyone knows he’s one of the best detectives inazuma has to offer, a bringer of justice. but what no one knows aside from you and heizou is that you’ve witnessed him murder a man you’ve taken a liking to. you try to expose him, but he threatens. one thing for sure is, how far he’s willing to go for you. if you were to ever expose him, he promises to pin the blame on you and frame you as the murderer. he’s willing to do anything to keep you hush hush and to keep you by his side.

waaahhh thank you :((

✧ CW: yandere character, manipulation, murder, blackmail

It was painfully easy to trust Shikanoin Heizou.

But if only you had heard more about him beforehand, you'd have known that he always acted in his own interest before anything else. There was no obstacle, no riveting case, or fear of consequence that would stop him from pursuing his own goals.

This was exactly why you shouldn't have believed a word that he said when he assured you that your correspondence with him was only for professional reasons. Information, he told you then, that will help in solving cases. In retrospect, the way his lips wavered while trying to keep his expression stern, at the very least, should have it gave it all way. That, and the fact that the detective had never pretended to look serious. (Even if you had pointed it out then, you supposed the only reaction you'd have gotten would be him crowing in delight, "So you noticed all these things about me? I'm flattered, partner—really!'")

You had ignored the glaringly obvious truth in favor of blindly trusting the fascinating figure, much too captivated by his self-assured air and his ardent desire to observe everything about you and your humble abode. You were charmed by him, by the idea that such an important individual would have made the long journey down here to see your modest town when no other government official bothered to even glance this way. And when he spins an elaborate, irresistible web of lies to you and everyone else in a courteous manner, his voice far too composed for the way his eyes brightened with newfound interest, that the Commission was trying to help smaller towns and villages now, that he was here to stay and solve all the cases that had gone unnoticed before his arrival, the smug smirk that appeared at the end was a subtle warning that you all had fallen head first into his trap.

It didn't strike you as odd when he approached you either, asking if you could help him out while he was staying.

"If you'd do me the honor of working as my temporary assistant during my stay," he had said, voice earnest and tinged with anticipation, "I'd really appreciate it."

There were more lies that followed, of course, that silvery voice promising you that you only needed to provide him with information and that you'd hardly be needed for more than a few hours, at most, but you paid them no attention. It was unnecessary since your reply had practically jumped out of your mouth, much to his amusement. Shikanoin Heizou had already won you over with that ever-affable smile and outgoing nature.

Once he actually started working, only high praises were sung about the young detective from the city. Files and files containing cold cases about missing children and stolen goods diminish at an extraordinary rate as Heizou scours through them all with a charming smile. You had no complaints either. Heizou treated you well; he was never curt with you, even if his words lingered on the edge of being condescending at times when he explained how obvious a criminal was being, he didn't throw all his workload onto your inexperienced hands, though he did insist you stay with him all throughout the night when he was working—not to do work, but to keep him company. You were a little confused about why he was staying when he had already solved his cases for the day, simply scribbling down into a book in between indecipherable looks thrown at you.

There were times you felt uneasy, like when the ghost of his touches felt more solid, and the usual brush against your back turned into a firm arm around your shoulder or a hand pressing into the small of your back, and his usual polite words turned more playful, more familiar than you'd have liked. Or when he insisted there was enough time for you to take a break and ushered you to a bustling restaurant, taking bites from your meal and offering you some of his, all while ignoring your questions about the cases he was supposed to be working on that day. Over time, you chalked it up to his personality, much like the times when he'd see you dressed up in a new outfit and point it out with a teasing grin ("Oh my, getting all dolled up for me?") or when he'd randomly make inferences about your relationships with others, by observing how long your conversation continued and listening to the tone of your voice, later confirming all his suspicions with you. It was a little off-putting, but perhaps all geniuses were eccentric in that way.

But there was no excusing the sight in front of you now.

Realization dawns upon you as any words you had turned to sludge at the back of your throat. You tried to find a reason, but as your eyes scanned the brutal scene it was clear to you that your fears had been confirmed. There was no other explanation for why Heizou was crouched over a still, unmoving body, or for the bruises littering his victim's skin. The ebbing glow of the vision at his side, the beads of sweat on his skin, and the final breeze that fluttered past...you didn't want to believe that he was capable of such sheer malice, but how could you deny the obvious?

"What brings you here?" a cold wave of fear envelopes you at his casual tone, accompanied by the impish smile that follows when he says your name, "Oh, was I missing for too long? Were you worried about me?"

"Detective, this is..."

"Now, how long have we known each other already? You can just call me Heizou," his eyes flit over to where yours are glued to, "Hm, this? Oh, it's such a pity, I know! But he was starting to get on my nerves a little, with all the cozying up he was trying to do with you."

It clicks after his words, why there was something familiar about the lifeless figure collapsed on the ground. Someone who had, just a few days ago, been trying to start a conversation with you while you were following Heizou around; but you remembered Heizou tugging you away while you were trying to think of a reply, with a callous reply in your stead, and you remember the startling fierceness gleaming in his eyes. You'd have never imagined that his anger went this far.

"So you killed him?"

Heizou blinks at you slowly, before chuckling as he stands up from his crouched position, "Well, what else was I to do? Hmm, something's telling me that you're about to go running...I wouldn't recommend that, partner."

Before you can even take a step, a strong gust of wind knocks you over onto your back. Heizou looms over you, a dark storm stirring in his previously bright eyes.

"You'll tell everyone that I killed someone, and drag them over to see the body. But nobody will believe that, will they? The Tenryou Commission's most prized detective coming to this little place to murder a random passerby? Come on, partner, I was hoping you learned a thing or two about a convincing case from me by now."

You gasp out, the shock from the impact yet to wear out, and Heizou laughs sharply at your helpless state.

"It's alright. There'll be plenty of time for you to learn after. I'll even tell you how I'll go about refuting your claims," Heizou leaned even closer to you, "Let's see, it would be terribly suspicious if there were someone messing with my files, you know? Only someone that works closely with me would be able to do that, and they'd know how much progress I was making here. It must have upset them, I'd say, they must have wanted to scare me off. Oh, and if I happened to find evidence of a murder weapon lying around...well, it would be a closed case, don't you think?"

You exhale sharply, feeling as though the world was closing in—or maybe, it was just Heizou's presence that was starting to feel heavy, "you wouldn't—"

Heizou smiles, but it's devoid of any previous warmth, "I could—isn't that all that matters? I've never asked for an assistant, I've never needed one—the Commission can tell you this—but you came and begged and pleaded with me, so I agreed to take you under my wing. You paid back my kindness by betraying me—really, how cruel. And when you've been named a murderer, there'll be no place to run either. You'll just have to sit nice and still in my house, hmm?"

It was just like him to have it all figured out. He had been stringing you along all this while, with his honey-coated lies and well-mannered facade, and you had followed him without a single doubt.

"I'm looking forward to many more days of being together, partner."

When it's your word against the prodigy detective of the Tenryou Commission, whoever will believe you?

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