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acourtofwhatthefuck · 5 months

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Practice On Me — Part Thirteen — Azriel x Reader

Summary: Backstreet’s back, ALRIGHT! Or rather, the Bat Boys™️ sort their issues out. Tathaln’s ball is officially announced. Azriel gives Kaeda a piece of his mind. Fin has no business being the sexy dad he is. Roza’s worried about reader.

Word count: 6.3k.

Warnings: None for this part.

All is silent, save for the rhythmic tick-tick-ticking of the clock. Cassian has always hated that clock. Finds it fucking annoying.

But it fills the vacant hole that exists in the absence of conversation. That hole is open and gaping between Cassian and Azriel. It’s not a table that sits between them — it’s a dangerous, yawning chasm.

Az stares at Cass, and Cass feels uncomfortable. He’s seen that cold gaze be levelled on people hundreds of times, thousands. To be on the receiving end feels a little like staring death in the face. He actually kind of wishes that Kaeda hadn’t been sent off to the dorms to sleep off her drunken state, because at least then he wouldn’t be the only one here, being subjected to…this.

So, he stands up, so abruptly that his chair almost topples over, and asks, “Want me to make you some tea?” The question feels stupid the second it leaves his lips.

Azriel’s eyes track him, drink in every uneasy shift and twitch. It’s not that Cass is afraid of Az — though anybody with half a brain cell would be — just that he’s not good in these situations. Situations where he has to be serious and…and listen.

“Cassian.” The shadowsinger’s cold voice stops him before he can move. “When, in our years of friendship, have you ever once made me tea?”

Cass peers over a broad shoulder and shrugs half-heartedly. “First time for everything…”

“Sit.”

The word brooks no room for argument. Cassian does, indeed, sit.

It’s then that Azriel heaves a deep sigh, his entire body taut as a bowstring, and says, “I’m sorry.”

Cass blinks. “What?”

“I’m sorry—for what I did in the mead hall. I…had no right.”

“…But Y/N and I…”

“It’s not for me to dictate whether the two of you should or shouldn’t lie together. My…jealousy…is my problem, and mine alone.”

This is hard, Cassian realises — for Az to say this. For him to face it. And Cass can relate to that. Not everyone can be as silver-tongued as Rhysand. The Mother knows, Cass himself isn’t.

But he also isn’t an idiot. Some people may believe him to be, and that’s their mistake, because being proved wrong is usually the last thing they remember before waking up to a healer standing over them. He’s aware enough of his surroundings to know that something was brewing between Azriel and Y/N for years before Cass took her to bed…or kitchen counter, or…whatever.

“I need to be better,” Cassian offers, “at thinking before I act. Thinking about who I might hurt with my decisions. I’m working on it.”

Az studies his friend, and he feels no anger. If anything, it’s guilt that claws at the shadowsinger. He gave poor Cass a pretty good hiding over something that was, essentially, none of his business. And it could have all been different if Az simply wasn’t a coward, afraid of his feelings.

Something he needs to work on.

And perhaps he’s doing that as, rather than burying the topic, he asks, “What…what actually happened? How did you end up sleeping together? I mean…do you have feelings—”

“No.” Cassian cuts him off, blinking. “Gods, no. I love Y/N, you know that. But not romantically. I just…I felt so damn useless that night, Az. If you’d seen the way Y/N was…the self-loathing. I didn’t know how to help.”

Immediately, Azriel’s brow pinches. “Self-loathing?”

“Because of what her father did to her. When we were flying to Fenlaros, and she was the only one being carried in…”

Azriel slumps back in his chair, feeling like a godsdamned idiot.

He blinks forward and wonders what the fuck the point is in being born a shadowsinger when he obviously can’t read situations very well. Within seconds, it’s clicking into place.

“And then you started that fight with that Fenlarion male,” Cass continued. “and Kaeda just declared that it was her you were fighting over…and everyone has a limit, you know? I think that night was just all too much for Y/N. And she was so upset, so downtrodden…talking about how she hated herself. And I’m not good with words like Rhys is, and I’m not as observant as you are, but I am good at physical touch. Physical comfort. And it seemed like the only thing I could offer in that moment to take that bleakness away from her. But I should have thought about how you would feel—”

“I’m glad you were there for her.” Azriel blurts, realising, with every word, how much he means them. “I wasn’t. I failed her that night.”

“I really didn’t know that the two of you had been exploring things. If I did, I wouldn’t have done it. I mean…that fight you started wasn’t over Kaeda at all, was it?”

Az’s eyes shutter. And it goes against every natural instinct of his to strip himself bare and just…be honest. Every steel wall he’s ever built up is screeching in its effort to stand strong and not be caved in. And those walls were necessary in a life of darkness and hate…but that life is long gone.

What good do those walls do him in an environment where he has love, has people who genuinely care for him? As much as he wants to run and hide from his feelings as he always has…he thinks that the key to happiness may be on the other side of those walls. That a new bravery lays in letting some light filter through the cracks and warm a guarded heart.

His voice is quiet, laced with a self-preserving fear, as he admits, “No. It was not.”

Before Cassian can offer an encouraging response, the front door is swinging open, and Rhysand is kicking snow from his boots and trudging in. Azriel tenses like a threatened animal — but there is no threat here. Only safety, only love. He forces his shoulders to relax.

The violet-eyed male takes in the sight before him. Goes still as he looks between his two friends. “Please tell me this is a positive conversation.”

Cassian inclines his head. “Work in progress. Why don’t you make some tea?”

“Fuck you, make your own tea—”

“Make me some tea—”

“Kiss my ass, dickhole—”

“I’m in love with Y/N.” Azriel blurts.

It promptly shuts the other two males up.

They turn away from their bickering to look at the shadowsinger. He looks…shocked, by his own confession.

“I’m in love with her,” he breathes.

Cass and Rhys share a glance, and then Rhys is slowly approaching the table, carefully taking a seat like he doesn’t want to startle Azriel out of the moment.

“We know, Az.” Rhys tells him gently. “I mean…I think we always suspected…”

“I started that fight in Fenlaros because I was jealous of that damn male having his hands all over her. Saying the things he was saying. It was nothing to do with Kaeda.”

“You should really tell her — Y/N, I mean. Tell her how you feel.”

Azriel’s eyes trace a mark in the table as he admits, “Kind of already have. When she came to speak to me earlier today.”

Another glance is shared between Cassian and Rhys. And both are equally surprised — figure they would have heard something about it. Unless…unless it hadn’t gone down well.

And now that Rhys thinks about it, Y/N had been tense whilst he’d flown her back to Velaris. Taut in his arms and barely uttering a few words. Perhaps this was why.

“Did she…not take it well?” Rhys hedges. He wants to be delicate, not go blasting in at full-force. So rarely do they get to see such a vulnerable side to Az.

Azriel shakes his head once. “It’s not that, it’s…” He clears his throat. “It’s more complicated than that.”

“How?” Cass pushes, and Rhys shoots him a warning glance.

But Azriel doesn’t balk from it, doesn’t slink back in his seat. Instead, he lifts his head, and he levels his friends with a desperate look.

“There’s more that I haven’t told you.” He says.

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A short while later, Az thinks that maybe talking through his feelings is a good thing. Just saying the words has a little bit of weight easing from his chest, his shoulders.

But Cass and Rhys aren’t saying anything at all. Cass and Rhys are staring at him like he has two damn heads.

And then Cassian sits up, barking, “Tathaln Baralas wants what?”

“Exactly what I told you.” Azriel shakes his head. “He wants me to move to Fenlaros and work alongside him. Has some sort of backing from the High Lord, though I’m not sure how much. In a nutshell, Kaeda’s interest in me has always been driven by her father.”

“I knew that little wasp was up to something. You know she tried to kiss me tonight?”

Az shrugs. Really could not give a fuck. “I figured something had happened from the look on your face.”

“I never liked her. Nor her father—”

“Her father,” Rhys cuts in, “walks a very fine line in presuming to exceed in his role as a Camp Lord. His ego and title are going to his head a little, it would seem, if he believes he has the authority to scheme such ideas.”

“It’s a terrible idea.” Cass says. Neither of the other two noticed him get up, but he’s returning to his seat, speaking around a mouthful of food. “All Illyrians in one big camp? They’ll kill each other.”

Rhys is inclined to agree. But he turns a neutral — maybe gentle — expression on Az and asks him, “Do you want to go to Fenlaros?”

It would kill him if Az said yes. Would kill Cass, too. These recent days of being torn apart by tension has been bad enough. Being in different camps and not seeing each other is an almost unbearable thought.

But they would find a way to live with it, if Az decided he wanted to go. They’d find a way to be okay with it.

Such thick silence fills the room that the thudding of all three of their hearts is audible.

But then Azriel replies quietly, “No.”

Neither Rhys nor Cassian bother to hide their relief.

“I told Kaeda I would think about it.” Azriel goes on. “And I told Y/N that I’d promised Kaeda that. But I don’t think I’ve ever really intended to think about it — or needed to. I think…I think I was just using it to bide my time. To create space for myself and…avoid everything else.”

“By everything else,” Cassian chomps into a loaf of bread, “do you mean facing your feelings for Y/N?”

Azriel can’t deny it. He nods. “It’s not an easy thing to face…to be vulnerable. Hiding behind this Fenlaros situation has just been easier. Cowardly, yes, but…easier.”

“You can’t keep pushing her away, though, Az.” Rhys says. “You can’t let her think that you might be leaving if you have no intention of doing so.”

The shadowsinger’s eyes flutter shut, thick, dark lashes grazing his cheekbones. “Do you think I’ve fucked it beyond repair?”

“No.” Cassian offers. “But you will, if you don’t start handling this the right way. Tell Kaeda and Tathaln to fuck off. Tell Y/N you’re in love with her and want to see her naked—”

“Watch it.” Azriel warns quietly, but Cass continues, unperturbed.

“Just start letting more people in. And I’ll stop letting so many people in, because it gets me into trouble. I think…I think we all need to grow up a little. Do better.”

Rhysand’s brow pinches. “What do you mean, we all do? I’ve done nothing other than put my own pleasure aside to advise you idiots. What could I possibly need to do better?”

Cassian shrugs. “That haircut, for one. It’s annoying.”

“And when was the last time your hair saw a comb, Cassian?”

“When was the last time you were generous and made tea for your good, long-suffering friend?”

“So this is about the tea.”

“Of course it’s about the tea, jackass. Zakai clearly isn’t with you for your observational skills…”

Azriel sits back, allowing their bickering to become background noise. There’s a warmth to the sight, the sound, that makes him realise he never again wants a repeat of this situation — of being apart from his friends for days, tension thick between them.

He loves Rhys and Cassian. Loves them dearly.

Another reason why he could never, ever turn his back on this place.

And he finds himself actually being…grateful…that Cass was there for Y/N that night. That she didn’t have to suffer her self-loathing alone.

There’s still a lot to get through, of course. Daunting emotions and truths to face head-on. But as he watches the two loveable idiots in front of him take verbal swipes at each other, it’s the first time in a while that he wonders if things might actually be okay.

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The news is announced the next day, when Lord Devlon gathers a rather colourful bunch of his soldiers in the mead hall and stands at the front, silencing them all with a single shout. Rhys, Cassian and Azriel stand against the far back wall, their arms folded over their chests.

Gods, they hope it’s not another training exercise. Not so soon. Az has things he wants to resolve before he saunters off and possibly gets himself killed.

But Devlon reads the roll of parchment in his hands, a frown contorting his features. He looks up, his eyes very deliberately finding Rhysand as he announces to the room, “A message from the High Lord.”

And every other gaze is then swivelling to turn on Rhys, too. There’s something accusatory about it, like they’re assuming he’s privy to whatever it is their asses have been dragged out of bed to hear.

He isn’t. He wants to be in bed, too.

“Looks like you pricks better get your dancing shoes ready.” Devlon raises his eyebrows. “The High Lord is calling for a ball. Legions from all camps invited.”

This — this is exciting news for the brutish males who could fill the mead hall with their egos alone. Not because they have a particular affinity for dancing, but because amongst themselves, they’re already murmuring about which particular camps they dislike for some reason or other, and what they plan to do about it. So many bloodthirsty streaks are painted in those males’ eyes, stamping out the tiredness that lay there only moments before.

Nothing pricks an Illyrian male’s ears up quite like the prospect of a fight.

“The legions from each camp have been carefully selected, and you lucky fuckers will be representing Windhaven.” The Camp Lord continues, disdain dripping from his voice. He wants his men out there training in the cold, not prancing around a dance floor. “Plus-ones are allowed, also, so it might be time to splash out on a pretty gown for whoever is warming your bed these days. The ball is to be held on Starfall, at a neutral venue of the High Lord’s choosing, and I expect you all to make Windhaven — and me — look good. Any questions?”

“Do we actually have to dance?” One male asks, while another one pipes up with, “Will those pricks from Camp Steelshore be there?”

Rhys shuts out the litany of battling voices as he turns a concerned look on Az and Cass. Their expressions mirror his own. Something about this feels…off.

So while he looks like he’s merely lounging against the wall, hands in his pockets, he sends his inner claws spearing straight for Devlon’s mind. He doesn’t give away what he’s doing, not even slightly, as he roots around in the Camp Lord’s thoughts and grabs for his glimpse of the letter. Rhys scans it, drops the thought, and he’s out of Devlon’s mind and straightening himself up before the male can so much as flinch.

“Let’s go.” He tells his friends, and not Devlon nor the males around them seem to care as Azriel and Cassian follow him, the formidable trio traipsing out into the thawing snow, regardless of whether the meeting is over or not.

They’re halfway back to the house, safely out of earshot, when Cassian finally barks, “A ball? What the fuck?”

“At the request of Tathaln Baralas.” Rhys reveals. “That’s what the letter said. He took the idea to my father, and the asshole is humouring him. This has all got to be part of Tathaln’s plan.”

Cassian scowls and spits his disdain at the ground. “Someone needs to drive a poison arrow through that prick’s heart already. I don’t like this one bit.”

“It’s my father’s intentions I’m worried about.” Rhys shakes his head. “Tathaln only has the power that my father gives him. One word from him and this idea could be snuffed out and never mentioned again. And I expected that to be the case. Arrogant as fuck he may be, but my father isn’t stupid. He’ll know what a terrible idea this is, and I would have predicted that he’d laugh in Tathaln’s face for mentioning it. I didn’t think he’d actually entertain it…which means—”

“There’s something in it for him.” Azriel finishes.

Rhysand nods. “Every single move and choice my father makes is, ultimately, for his own gain. He would never agree to anything if he weren’t getting something out of it himself. Whatever Tathaln has proposed to him…my father will be using it for his own gain.”

Cassian opens the door to the cottage and strides in, forgetting — as always — to kick the snow from his boots. “What, though?” He asks. “What could Tathaln have that your father could want?”

Rhys shrugs and waves a hand, magic promptly mopping up the wet, melting trail left in Cassian’s wake. “That, I don’t know.”

“So what do we do?” Az watches him closely, trying to read the thoughts on the male’s face. His shadows reach out to him, too. “Are you going to talk to your father? Make him see how ridiculous this idea is?”

“No,” Rhys shakes his head. “There would be no point. I could lay a whole host of truths out to my father, and he’d go against them on ego alone. He must want something badly enough for him to be throwing money into it. This ball won’t be cheap.”

“And it won’t be a ball, either.” Cassian cocks an eyebrow. Roots through the kitchen cupboards for food. “Blood will be spilled. And you can’t dance on blood. I’ve tried. Too slippy.”

Rhys chooses to ignore that little scrap of information. Mostly because he doesn’t doubt it for a second. “I don’t want us to pre-empt anything.” He says. “If I go straight to my father with concerns about any of this, it could blow up in our faces, instead. For the time being, I think we should just…go along with it. Watch it play out, and see what happens. My father is unpredictable. Even I can’t tell you what goes on in his head.”

“I can speak with Kaeda.” Az clears his throat. “See if she’ll tell me anything.”

“You have fun with that.” Cassian mumbles, biting into something. “I’d sooner chop my balls off and nail them to the front door.”

“Such a way with words. It’s no wonder, really, that females fall at your feet.”

Cass shoots him a wicked grin. And this…this is nice. What they’ve both missed. This is normal.

“I’ll keep an eye and ear out for anything.” Rhys drags them back to the subject at hand. “But my father’s good at not letting anyone know things until he wants them to know them. And he’s clearly serious about this.”

Cassian swallows. Takes another bite. “And until then? Until we know what he’s even serious about?”

Violet eyes sparkle with mischief, and one side of Rhysand’s lips tips up. “Until then, boys,” he says, “you’d better practice your dancing.”

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Azriel really hopes she’s not there, but sure enough, when he enters his room at the dorms, Kaeda is sitting up in his bed.

It gives him a little bit of satisfaction to see her look…less than perfect, for once. Her hair is knotted, and even the vibrancy of the red shade seems a little dulled. Her skin is sallow, her eyes bleary. He wonders if she’s as miserable as she currently looks.

She beholds him with a strangely coy look, like she’s waiting for him to rip into her. But if she really knew the shadowsinger, she’d know that that is not his style. He does not shout. He rarely fights physically. His danger lies in his quiet voice and icy stare.

Kaeda’s tired eyes fall to the blanket pooled around her waist, and she murmurs, “You’re angry with me.” Her throat bobs with a swallow. “I understand. But I appreciate you putting me to sleep in here when I was in a vulnerable state.”

“I would have done it for anyone.” Az presses his back against the wall, folding his arms. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

The female merely bows her head. Doesn’t bother to argue.

“I have a question.” Azriel then says. “I’d like an answer.”

“I know that Cassian has probably told you about last night, and all I can say is I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have kissed him. I was drunk and upset and I—”

“I don’t care about that.” He really doesn’t, and it shows on his face. “I want to know what your father is playing at by organising an Illyrian ball. I don’t believe for a second that the gesture is an innocent one.”

She glances down again, but Azriel doesn’t buy the coy act for one moment.

“Kaeda.” His voice is laced with warning. “Tell me.”

“It’s just…a ball. A ball to have all camps in one place, so he can get a good look at what each one has to offer. It’s nothing sinister.”

“So, a chance for him to scout more supporters for his cause.”

“He’s trying to make a change, Azriel. A good one—”

“He’s interfering with lives. Tearing families apart.”

“Good results require difficult choices.” Her voice hardens.

The shadowsinger bites out a cold, brusque laugh, turning away from her. “Mother above, he has you trained well.”

There’s movement behind him. Kaeda is kicking the sheets away and pushing to her feet. And she’s…seething.

“You would laugh in the face of somebody trying to make a positive change?” She snaps. “What reason have you to be so arrogant? At least my father is trying to make a difference. All you’re doing is clinging to a miserable life in a miserable place where you don’t even have a family or home of your own—”

“Except that I do.” Azriel rounds on her so quickly that his wing knocks a fragrance bottle off a shelf. “I may not have your riches, and that’s fine, because I have a group of people — a family I made — who love me enough to care whether or not I come home at night. Who want nothing less for me than happiness and contentedness, and not just to use me as a pawn in some convoluted plan that will do more harm than good. I have reason to be in Windhaven, whether it’s miserable or not. I have love here. So much of it. And there’s nothing — not a damn thing — that would make me turn my back on it.”

Something in his impassioned speech clearly hits a nerve with Kaeda. She goes still.

And she looks…small, despite being fairly tall. She looks…insignificant.

Her eyes fill with tears. One spills over and rolls down her cheek as she whispers, “Please, Azriel.”

Azriel says nothing. Stares at her.

“Please.” She takes a step closer. “I’m not above begging. I…” Her voice cracks. “I need this. I need you to say yes—”

“Your father,” he interrupts quietly, “is playing a very dangerous game. And he’s using you to do it.”

“You don’t understand. I…if I can’t give him what he wants, I’m finished. I’ll have no home to go to, nobody on my side.”

“You already have nobody on your side. You’re his daughter and he’s dangling your livelihood over your head and ready to snatch it away if he doesn’t get what he wants. You’re already finished.”

“Please.” She says again. Tears are streaming, now, and she tries fruitlessly to wipe them away. “Please, just…if this is about Y/N—”

“Do not,” he grits out, “bring her into this.”

“She’s already in this. I know that you want her and not me…that you always have…and that’s fine. Bring her to Fenlaros with you, if you must. I’m sure my father could be persuaded on that. But just…please—”

“You’re not listening, Kaeda. This isn’t just about my family. It’s about all the other families that would be separated, ripped apart by your father’s scheming. He’s power hungry. This is just the beginning of a whole host of self-serving plans that will bring him glory — do not doubt that for a second. People like him are never satisfied, and he needs to be stopped. Not encouraged.”

“You’re wrong.” Her voice is so weak, Az isn’t convinced she believes her own words. “He just wants a better future for Illyria—”

“No.” Az levels her with a pointed look. “He wants a better future for himself. I will not play a part in that, and neither will my loved ones.”

“Azriel, please—”

“I will attend your father’s ball, just as Lord Devlon has ordered me to do.” He breezes to the door, not caring that this is his room he’s leaving her behind in. He stops, palm poised on the handle. “But as for delivering a male straight into your father’s den? You better start trying that seduction on somebody else. Because there is nothing that would make me follow you into that camp.”

He leaves without a glance back. And while it sits uncomfortably inside him that he made a female cry…he can’t help feeling like he’s finally doing the right thing.

About time, too.

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This — this is the last thing you ever would have expected of coming to Velaris.

The tonic you’d needed was an extended amount of girl time with Roza. And yet here you are…in the High Lord’s arms.

“This is useless.” You murmur, aware of every single place your body brushes against his. One of his hands is a firm weight on the small of your back, the other clasping yours. “I’m not a natural dancer. Fuck, I’ve never even been to a dance.”

Fin’s mouth tips up at the corners. “There’s that filthy mouth.” His hand lets go of yours, opting to move up to the cut of your jaw, where he allows his thumb to rest on your lower lip. “You,” the pad of it swipes slowly over your mouth, “are going to be exquisite.”

You square your shoulders. Cock a challenging eyebrow. “Is that genuine encouragement, High Lord? Or an order?”

A deep chuckle. Slowly — reluctantly —he lets his hand drop. “Both.”

Flirting with him like this, playing the part of the High Lord’s pet, is a necessary evil. You’re just so surprisingly good at it that you can’t discern whether it’s an affront to him, or to Roza. Or both.

But you can’t deny that you’ve been flattered by his undivided attention this past week. And perhaps he’s been flattered by yours, too.

Mother bless Roza for her undying support. The best you can do for her, right now, is to keep her in the loop. She merely tells you to be careful.

But a week — a week of cosying up to Fin, of breaking through his exterior and appealing yourself to him. You humour him with these dance lessons, with the preposterously expensive shopping trips and dinners, the late night fireside conversations. Anything, everything, to get him to tell you what truth lies behind the excited glint in his eyes whenever he speaks of the ball. To tell you what it is he’s planning.

Perhaps you’re not appealing enough. You are no more aware than anyone else. And that’s really fucking frustrating.

At least your hard work has kept you from thinking about Azriel every five minutes.

Your breath still heaving from your dance efforts, you make your way over to the table of refreshments by the huge, arcing windows that overlook the city. The High Lord’s palace, you have to admit, is a place you might miss once you’re back in Windhaven. You’ve never been one for luxury, never had more than a few things to your name — but the views are what makes you feel like the richest person in all of Prythian. These are not the cold, barren views of your camp, but a place of such vibrancy, it sometimes makes you want to cry. It’s like the setting of a storybook, laid out right before you.

From behind, slow, graceful footsteps sweep across the wooden floor. Fin comes to a stop so closely behind you that his body heat encases you.

Fingertips make contact with your skin, the back of your neck. The sleeveless tunic you wore for your practice now feels like nothing more than a paper towel.

“You have such beautiful skin.” Fin says roughly, and you tense. So far, this week, he’s kept a respectful distance away. Hasn’t put you in any awkward positions.

You pivot under his touch, pressing your back up against the table enough that his hand drops. It’s not entirely for show as you smile apologetically and tell him, “Sorry — scars.”

Such genuine, slicing rage fills his face. The intensity of it almost knocks you breathless.

“I will kill him.” He says the words like a lover’s promise. “With my bare hands, I will kill him for taking your wings.”

He had the power to stop the practice before you were even born. He is very old — over nine-hundred-years — and very powerful. What he says, goes.

And yet…he means it. You can see it. And perhaps you have seen so much unkindness, such brutality, that little scraps of ferocity, of passion, in your defence, make you a blinded fool.

But a part of him — however small — actually cares about you. Enough to mark your abuser for death.

But your father’s blood will soak your hands, and yours only.

You smile up at him, wickedly, cunningly, prettily. “No, you won’t.” You reply. “Because I will do it first.”

And the fury in his stare simmers immediately to a different sort of heat. Your words are a flirtation to him — a cut of raw meat dangled above a hungry, waiting animal. They make him feel something.

“Such a murderous little thing.” His soft laugh caresses your skin. He sounds pleased — impressed. “I like that. I like it a lot.”

“I would hope so. I am to be your special guest at the ball, after all.” A small voice in your head wants to coax him; tell me what you’re planning, tell me what to expect.

But, as always, he steers the conversation away, a vague, mysterious smile on his face. “Do you like it here in Velaris, my murderess?”

“I do, very much so.”

“I can’t help pondering how much you would thrive here. You were made for so much more than Windhaven. Illyria, even.”

A soft, coy smile — one that comes from deep within that part of you that wants the praise, the compliments — that needs them. “Many would disagree with you.”

“Show them to me, and I will twist their minds until they see in you what I do.”

“And what is it you see in me?” A disingenuous little liar. A good actress. A traitor.

Fin leans down, and for one startling, heart-stopping, stomach-lurching moment, you think his mouth might meet yours.

But his lips brush over your cheek in a tender, barely-there caress. He presses a kiss to the skin before retracting. Straightening himself out. The way he slides his hands into his pockets with casual arrogance reminds you so much of Rhys that you miss your friend instantaneously.

“I see beauty that is unappreciated, and intelligence that is underestimated.” Fin says. “And I see a female that I wouldn’t mind having at my side.” His eyes trace you from head to toe. “I wouldn’t mind it at all.”

No response sits on your tongue. You think you might be too surprised by the genuine praise. The fact that the High Lord actually feels some level of affection towards you.

Maybe you’re not so bad at these games.

He turns without waiting for your response, and only when he’s at the door does he make eye contact with you over his shoulder.

“Keep practicing the dancing, my murderess.” He says. “We’ll make a fine pair at that ball.”

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

If Roza weren’t so worried, she might laugh at the three expressions of outrage that meet her when she strolls into the cottage.

Rhysand jumps up immediately and demands, “Did you fly here? You’re supposed to be resting.”

Roza merely rolls her eyes and shuts the door behind her. “Don’t get your undergarments in a bunch, Rhysand. I’m pregnant — not on my death bed. The babe is fine.”

Her son does not look convinced. Neither do Azriel or Cassian. As if they’re, like, experts on pregnancy, or something.

“What are you doing here, mother?” Rhys stalks straight to the fire and stokes it. Then straight over to the kitchen to make a hot drink. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes. Mostly.” Roza pauses. “I hope.”

Azriel sits up at that. “Is Y/N alright?”

“She’s fine.” If playing games with the High Lord of the Night Court can be considered fine. Roza eases herself into a seat, and Cassian is promptly propping cushions behind her back. “I want to talk to you about the ball.”

Cass’s lips turn up into a half-smile. “We’ll be on our best behaviour, Roz. Promise.”

“You’d better be. Because I want all three of you looking out for Y/N at that ball, do you hear me?”

The command is a firm one, and yet the three males don’t straighten up at her matriarchal tone like they usually do. Instead, they share a puzzled glance, frowns pinching their features.

“It’s a ball for Illyrian soldiers and their guests of choice.” Rhys explains, carrying a steaming mug over to her. “None of us are bringing her along. Not to that.”

“You may not be.” Roza slides a protective hand over her bump. “But your father is.”

All three males go so preternaturally still, it’s almost frightening.

Rhys bites out, quietly, “What?”

“Your father is taking Y/N to the ball as his special guest. He’s bought her a gown, taught her to dance — he’s serious about this.”

“He can’t.” The shadowsinger’s face is like rolling thunder. “He cannot take her there. All those males—”

“That’s precisely why I’m not attending. He needs someone in my place, and he’s taking Y/N.”

“He can choose someone else.” Azriel’s clipped tone, his panic, is not at all personal to Roza. Usually, he would never speak to her in such a way, but—

But this is Y/N they’re talking about. Y/N in the High Lord’s hands, at a ball with so many Illyrian males, too many Illyrian males.

“Watch your tone, Azriel.” Rhys warns, but Roza is holding up a hand. Because she gets it — the panic.

“I’ve tried telling him to take somebody, anybody, else.” She says. “He’s insistent — absolutely adamant that he wants Y/N.”

“But why?” Cassian frowns.

“I don’t know. I don’t know if his kindness to her is genuine or not.” She shakes her head, absentmindedly stroking her bump. “All I know is that he’s taking Y/N to that ball, and I’m not going to be there. You know, Rhysand, that there is no changing your father’s mind once it’s set. I need the three of you to look out for her.”

Because Y/N is just as much a daughter to Roza as the little girl growing in her belly. They know that.

Rhys inclines his head, reaching out to place a hand over Roza’s. “We will, mother.” He promises. “Whatever game he’s playing…we’ll look after Y/N.”

Roza’s eyes dart to Azriel, to Cassian. “Do you promise?”

“We promise.” Cassian, unfazed as always, grins. “You just focus on the little one, Roz.”

Azriel’s face is grave, but he nods once. “We won’t let her out of our sight.”

Y/N is in good hands with them, Roza knows. She may even be in good hands with Fin, depending on what his true intentions are. Perhaps being at the High Lord’s side is the safest place she can be. It’s an unknown.

But one thing Azriel does know, as he wishes and wishes for this damn ball to just be over already, is that he’s wracked with guilt.

He can’t help feeling like it’s his fault — that his actions, his behaviour, chased Y/N right into a viper’s den.

That he’ll stop at nothing to get her out of it.

pom tags: @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @sirenpearldust @queercodedcharacter @azriels-shadowsinger @ruler-of-hades @demi03 @magicaldragonlady @abrielletargaryen @ralsieq @v3lv3tf0x @achase2002 @feyretopia @hayrunnwr @don’t-feed-the-hipsters @brekkershadowsinger @piceous21 @bloodicka @acourtofinkandpapyrus @riri-is-agirlie @siriusement @4valyries @socmono @azriels-mate123 @acourtofbatboydreams @katherinearcheron @nesemi @lupinswolfsbanes @dreaming-unafraid @dxnniiix @cyrygher @liddyr03 @lmllsl @nightless @teenageeggscissorslawyer @brighterthanlonelythoughts @blitz-fall @maybefoxysouls @mschanand1erbong @juiceboxreads @bangtanbecks @florencemtrash @hyemishii @obixix @thenovarose @meshellexplosionmurder @angzlxna @lissy31xoxo-blog @supernatural99 @positivewitch @art3-m1ss @milfhunter-pdx @bbuckysbeardd @coralseacourt @towhateverend87 @sspookz @bird-on-the-wire33 @morrie-rose @megwan @catscanteleport @sevikas-whore @thickthighs-sadeyes @hihelloitsbooktimeppl

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noridoorman · 7 months

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# Nuzi is not a pro-ship, I'm so tired that needs to be repeated #

I went on Twitter for like the first time (what a mistake) and saw again and again people complaining about how Nuzi is a pro-ship, Uzi is just a teen, N is an adult, yadda yadda and it gets so tiring at some point.

one point might be a bit controversial tho oops

"Uzi said herself that she's a teenager!"

Yes, she did. But teens can range from the ages of 13-20. It is a wide spectrum that is thankfully narrowed down by episode 3 when it is revealed that all classmates in her class are around the ages of 18-20. There's nobody younger than 18, meaning that it's highly unlikely that Uzi is 17 and even more unlikely that she's 16. She has to be around the ages of 18-20.

"But Uzi does to highschool, which only teens between the ages of 15-17 go to!"

That is if you assume that the drones only adopted the American school system. However, we've got a drone that only speaks Russian and a manuel for drone parents that is translated in French. In Germany, adults over the age of 18 can visit highschools. Heck, I'm 19 and currently in my 12th year of highschool. I'll be 20 in my final years where my prom will happen too, which, again, indicated that Uzi is older than what everyone assumes.

"How come Uzi is older than 18 if there are parent-teacher conferences?"

Again, my school also has parent-teacher conferences, even for the students that are adults. It's an optional thing and at this point in the story, Khan wanted to somehow reconnect with Uzi again which makes sense that he visits the parent-teacher conference.

"Uzi is shorter than her classmates, indicating that she's younger!"

Short adults exist, I don't need to elaborate further.

"Uzi's mom died shortly after she was made. N was already an adult at that time!"

We've seen through flashbacks from Doll that her parents died while she was a teen/not a pill baby. The same could have happened to Uzi, that Nori died while she was older. Also, N already being an adult is something I wanna unpack in the next argument.

"Uzi at some point asks about her mother, indicating that she never truly knew her! This implies that Uzi was a baby when Nori died!"

Yes, N could have also killed Nori while Uzi was a baby. But guess what?

N was a "baby" too.

Bear with me.

If we really wanna go by ages of the drones, we should remember that ALL the drones aged differently. Uzi was the only one that was a pill-baby before. N, V and J weren't, they were all in adult bodies. Yet, they were all around the same age of Uzi.

The way I understand the timeline is like this;

Uzi is made. N gets rescued from the scrapyard and saved by Tessa. I'd like to assume that he only got to live a few months before being discarded, as we can see that humans act very carelessly with their drones. So, Uzi is essentially a newborn while N is around 3-5 months old.

about 2 years pass. Both N and Uzi are two-years-old. However, ONLY UZI IS A PILL BABY DRONE. N was always in the default worker drone body. He can talk, move and do a bunch of things a 2-year-old shouldn't be able to do. However, if we base age on maturity and life experiences than he's no more an adult than Uzi was. All of his capabilities are programmed, he'll literally just die if he can't do those things cause otherwise he's defective. (BTW, NOT JUSTYFING PPL THAT GO "oh, you're mature for your age" OR SHIT LIKE THAT. I'M JUST SAYING THAT IN TERMS OF MATURITY, THEY WERE MOST LIKELY ON THE SAME LEVEL)

Uzi is now 3-years-old and the diassembly drones killed Nori. It'll make sense why she doesn't remember much of Nori and ask questions about her. N is also 3-years-old and he, along with V and J, are doomed to kill Worker Drones until they finish their job and die due to overheating.

By that logic, N AND UZI ARE AROUND THE SAME AGE.

Of course we can't get a clear timeline of events as Liam said that he doesn't want to write himself into a corner. But this is the one that makes me most sense to me unless somebody manages to proof me otherwise.

UZI WAS A PILL BABY, N WAS NOT.

N might aswell have been a pill baby this whole time and nobody would have batted an eye. Their physical bodies do not equal their mental maturity and age, those are completely seperate entities.

I might have fumbled on my words a lot, I'm not a native English speaker. I still hope this was easy to explain without me having said something wrong accidentaly.

"N x Uzi just came out of nowhere for fanservice!"

It was confirmed that the scirpt of Murder Drones was finished way back at episode 1 before the ship became even popular. Heck, Glitch posted a picture of Beau before the second episode dropped. Also, animations takes such a long time to do with lots of planing. Last minute changes are extremely risky to make and no professional studio like GLITCH would do that just to appease the fans.

"They killed of V to make Nuzi canon!"

I agree with the part that V should have gotten more screentime before her death.

But she wasn't killed off to make Nuzi happen.

She just went through an entire charachter arc from this drone that masks her trauma thorugh feiging apathy/joy in killing and always making decisions based on what she thought was right because she couldn't trust the people around her, not even N.

At the end, when V sacrificed herself, she finally recognized that Uzi is not CYN, she's as much as a victim as V was and that Uzi truly cares about N like she does. Her sacrifice was there to show how she finally manages to trust Uzi, even though she most likely knows how dangerous Uzi can get if she loses control. I just wished they build up towards that more cause it would have been so much better but she wasn't killed off to make Nuzi happen.

There are probably more arguments that I missed...

#I should sleep its like 2 am lmao #md #murder drones #nuzi #n x uzi #uzi doorman #biscuitbites

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dreamfyrie · 1 year

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Aegon Targaryen II Headcanons: Your Wedding Night & Marriage *Explicit*

• before you were even married you already knew he had mommy issues, it didn’t take maester level intelligence to put that together

• and had certain.. kinks that resulted from them

• he was relieved when he found out you were still a maiden

• you would be unaware that some of the things he liked to do during sex weren't particularly... usual

• it also meant you were probably clueless about how sex worked and he could shape and train you to please him

• little did he know you had heard rumors of how hungry his appetite is and you snuck out to a brothel before your wedding to gain some kind of insight on how to please a man

• the marriage was arranged and you knew he wasn't happy about the thought of being tied down so you wanted to make sure you'd be able to fulfill his needs and prove to him you were a worthy match

• he was ready to take your maidenhood and had no plans of going soft and slow on your wedding night

• but when he walked into your chambers and saw you waiting on the bed with a nervous look in your eyes, trying your best to act brave, something in his heart broke

• he knew you were just as much an unwilling participant in this marriage as he was and it felt cruel to force himself onto you

• you sort of reminded him of his mother, an innocent girl having to marry the king

• he made a vow then and there that he wouldn't be like his father, he refused

• he told you if you weren't ready to consummate the marriage, it was okay

• when you told him you had no choice, that they needed to see the blood from losing your maidenhood on the sheets, he casually told you he’d cut himself and smear his own blood on the sheets so the small council wouldn't know

• you hadn’t felt such care in so long, your parents had pushed you into this marriage and he was the first one to treat you like an actual person during this whole process

• after he had shown you his true self, you had never been more ready to lose your maidenhood in your entire life

• you thought aegon would be a selfish lover given he was a king and used to everyone catering to him, but you were wrong

• you were different, he knew you understood what he was going through, his instinct to use you for his selfish desires went out the window

• he had never really cared to pleasure a woman with his tongue before but he found he really loved doing it for you and kept going until you had to literally pull his mouth off you

• the biggest grin covered his face along with your cum

• an intense need to satisfy a woman and be praised had overcome him, he wanted a woman to be proud of him

• aegon used to be a loud lover but was quiet when it came to you

• he didn't want to miss a single praise that fell from your lips, your whines and moans of approval were enough to make him cum

• your wedding night taught you a lot of things about aegon, mostly that aftercare was essential and he needed to be kissed and held

• soon after the wedding, the topic of when you would produce heirs came up

• you were worried aegon wasn't ready to be a father and would find a way to secretly slip you moon tea

• you had no clue he had formed the biggest breeding kink after marrying you and couldn't wait to watch your belly swell with his child

• neither one of you could have anticipated how extremely attractive he’d find you when you were with child

• especially when your milk started to come in

• he would pleasure you with his fingers while he sucked on your breasts for hours

• there was no shame, he felt safe knowing you wouldn't judge him

• maybe he just really loved your breasts or maybe it brought him back to a time when people were happy he was born and before he was seen as a disappointment to his family

• either way, it felt really good and you had no intentions of stopping him

#aegon targaryen ii #aegon targaryen #aegon targaryen smut #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen x you #aegon targaryen fluff #aegon targaryen angst #hotd #hotd smut

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watatsumiis · 9 months

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Reader With Anxiety (Part 1)

Reader is having anxiety. Characters comfort them in various in-character ways.

CW for general talk of anxiety and some of its symptoms. This is based on personal experience and can differ for others. Different techniques work for different people. This is a comfort fic, not an informational piece. A few mentions of certain characters having struggles of their own with anxiety.

Gender neutral reader, platonic relationships/fluff.

Characters: Al Haitham, Ayato, Childe, Diluc, Itto, Zhongli

Al Haitham’s approach borders on clinical. Though he’s experienced anxiety in the past (both his own and his roommate’s), he struggles to empathise with your struggles and doesn’t really know how to approach you. He takes a little while to pick up on your tenseness, then even longer to act on it - he may come off as brash or dismissive at first when you try to explain what’s ailing you, but in reality he’s working through it in his brain, approaching it from every possible angle as he works to try and solve the intricate equation in the most efficient way. He tends to quash down his own worries instead of facing them, but he doesn’t want that for you - he also figures that pulling all-nighters and drinking wine like his roommate might not be very healthy, either, so he does his own research and pulls up a list of grounding techniques for you to try, and will calmly walk you through each one and take careful note of which ones make the most significant differences for you. He’s very calm and level headed throughout the whole ordeal, even if you are not, so his unshakeable attitude can do wonders to help soothe you as well. Once all is said and done, he may (almost meekly) approach you and ask how he did, how he can do better in future, what worked and what didn’t. It’s almost like he’s collecting results from an experiment.

Ayato will basically try to find and eliminate whatever he thinks is the source of your worry. He’s a very straightforward man in that respect - he sees a problem, that problem requires a solution. Half of his job is making solutions, he figures it’s not exactly hard. He always thought he was quite good at talking Ayaka down when she was younger and fretted even more than she does now. So, in some cases, you may find that certain problems of yours seem to just… quietly fade into the background. Mora woes? He’ll just throw piles of money at the issue until it’s gone. You hate your job? Huh, it seems that one of your superiors has been fired and you’re first in line for a promotion. Funny, that. If, for whatever reasons, that doesn’t (or can’t) work, he’ll sit you down and try to talk you through it. He encourages you to talk about your anxieties, what you think is causing them, what has helped in the past, all those sorts of things. He turns almost uncharacteristically quiet and genuine during these conversations, sitting across from you and listening carefully as you talk. He still tries to do things to fix these problems unless you directly ask him not to though.

Childe gets ‘zoomies’ when he’s anxious, he gets jittery and jumpy and all over the place, so he expects you to be the exact same. He may take some time, but eventually he will notice that you’re acting fidgety or quiet, and his solution is to pretty much pull you into a large, open area and walk you through various fighting techniques or exercises. It can be really overwhelming, and he will back off if it seems like you aren’t coping with it, but sometimes working out that anxious energy is the perfect way to help. He acts so bright and cheery that it helps distract you. Sometimes, if he’s feeling particularly soft, he might allow you to get a few extra hits in or even knock him over just to see the way you brighten up and begin to regain your confidence. Failing that, he’ll cook you a really nice hearty meal and tell you about how his mother taught him that it’s “basically impossible to be anxious while eating.”

Diluc will essentially evacuate you from the situation - his decorum goes out the window when he notices you’re acting distressed. The way he sweeps you out of the room as he drapes his heavy jacket over your shoulders is almost like he’s shielding you from attackers. He’s had his fair share of anxiety attacks in the past and just does for you what he wishes someone would’ve done for him in his adolescence. He’ll find somewhere quiet for you to sit, make you a warm drink and stay nearby as you cool off. He won’t address it directly or ask you any questions, which can be a blessing or a curse depending on your preferences, but he’s still open to talking about it if it seems like that’s what you need. If you’re up for it, he may also assign you some meaningless busywork around the winery, something to keep your hands and mind busy so you don’t have time to dwell on whatever it is that’s ailing you. It’s always something extremely low pressure, such as watering houseplants or sorting papers.

Itto is as lighthearted about this as he is with many things. It takes him quite a long time to notice that you’re feeling off - it’s not that he ignores the people around him, sometimes he’s just a bit of an airhead who struggles to perceive anything out of the scope of his own boisterous, joyous aura. Even once he’s noticed and started to address it, you suspect that it may have been Shinobu’s prompting that caused him to finally pick up on it. He acts sort of clumsy around you at first, uncharacteristically worried that you might be upset at him for whatever reason, or that he’s just making things worse, but that clears up pretty quickly as he convinces himself that you absolutely need him to swoop in and save you as soon as possible. He won’t directly confront you, but instead he turns the silly metre up to full blast, pulling all the goofs and gaffs that he knows have cheered you up in the past. He’s acting like a complete and utter fool, just in an attempt to try and distract you from whatever thoughts have you all wrapped up inside your own head.

Zhongli realises practically the same moment you start acting off. He can be block-headed sometimes, but distress is something he’s taught himself to notice over the years. He’ll calmly pull you aside, being careful not to raise any suspicion or draw any attention, and will take both your shaking hands in his to steady them and ask you what’s wrong, what he can do to help. If you’re not sure, he’ll run you through various grounding techniques. His favourites are getting you to describe various things around you, or passing you some kind of trinket to look over to distract you while he tells you about it (oftentimes it's a piece of his jewellery or an interesting rock). Another one is that he gets you to talk about five things you can see, four things you can hear, three things you can touch/feel, two things you can smell and one thing you can taste. He’s got a whole arsenal of soothing techniques up his sleeve and is great at keeping track of which ones work best for you. Sometimes, just hearing his calm, deep voice droning on about whatever subject he feels like sharing is more than enough to help distract and calm you down.

Please don't repost, steal, copy or otherwise plagiarise my writing! I do not consent for my works to be translated and posted elsewhere, or used to teach bots!

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tossawary · 2 months

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Posting about my reread like this in an attempt to help me remember some of these small details... I am quite bad at remembering things from the beginning of a book by the end of it, partially because small, easily overlooked details often become far more meaningful and therefore memorable on the reread.

Some quotes and thoughts on Binghe's birth + adoption, Tianlang-Jun, Su Xiyan, and the poor, unnamed washerwoman:

"Immediately after birth, Luo Binghe was abandoned by his parents, swaddled in white cloth, and put in a wooden basin that was lowered into the Luo River. This occurred on the coldest days of the year, and it was only thanks to fishermen pulling him out of the water that he didn't freeze to death as a baby. Because he'd been drifting along the Luo in the season when it was choked with thin ice, he was given the name Luo Binghe.

Luo Binghe spent his early years wandering the streets, hungry and cold - a dreary childhood. A washerwoman who worked for a wealthy family took pity on him, and since he had no children of her own, she adopted and raised him as her own. Mother and son were poor, and they suffered much humiliation at the hands of their rich patrons." - Chapter 1, pages 9-10

"As it turned out, Luo Binghe had been born to the Demon Realm's Saintly Ruler and a woman of the Human Realm; within his veins flowed the blood of the ancient, heaven-fallen demons as well as that of the human race. His father, Tianlang-Jun, had been sealed beneath a great mountain, trapped for all eternity. His birth mother had been a disciple from a righteous cultivation sect, but shortly following Tianlang-Jun's dealing, she had been expelled on suspicion of having secret ties to demons. She had died from a postpartum hemorrhage after giving birth to Luo Binghe, but prior to her death, she had set her son adrift from the lonely ship she'd birthed him on. It was the only way she had been able to give Luo Binghe a chance to survive." - Chapter 1, page 11

I view a lot of these small details as somewhat flexible, with the different levels of unreliable narration going on. We are being told these things by Shen Yuan, who may be misremembering these details (as any reader, myself definitely included, does), and who read them as told by Airplane, who may have retconned prior details as he came up with new ideas, forgotten small details as he wrote millions of words, or was just lying in the narration for later reveals that never came to fruition. Shen Yuan may have also been reading dialogue between characters who also didn't know what they were talking about or were lying to each other.

So, I can do what I want with a lot of this, I feel! Shen Yuan doesn't necessarily know what he's talking about here. (More details will be revealed later on, I remember, and I will be looking out for them.)

Interesting things to remember here! Tianlang-Jun was apparently probably sealed during the winter, maybe late autumn at the earliest, which was probably unpleasant for snake demon Zhuzhi-Lang. I'm currently imagining Tianlang-Jun leaving his nephew to essentially hibernate somewhere to avoid the weather, promising to stay out of trouble (actually planning to meet up with Su Xiyan), and then just not coming back.

Su Xiyan apparently gave birth to Binghe on a ship! That's interesting. I had forgotten that detail if I ever took note of it.

I knew that the book implies here that Binghe was found by the washerwoman a little later into his childhood, but I'd forgotten the fishermen detail. I usually intentionally ignore this and just go with the washerwoman finding Binghe (which is what the animated show did, I think), because if Binghe was honestly "immediately" abandoned by Su Xiyan, then he would have been a newborn! Someone HAD to have been looking after him. This is one of my pet peeves in fiction: Binghe HAD to have been breastfed by someone OR this world must have an equivalent to baby formula for him to survive. (This is the main reason I conceptualized Luo Jiahui in PINTWILF as a young woman who had recently had a stillbirth, just so she could breastfeed this newborn baby.)

It's possible that Binghe had a series of caretakers who fell through before his adoption, leading to brief periods on the streets as a young child, and/or he did a lot of "wandering the streets" begging and scavenging AFTER his adoption by an extremely poor woman (and the sentences there are just a little out of order). Even if demon baby Binghe COULD survive on other food somehow, newborns can't... walk... or crawl... or lift their heads.

If I have to stick to what's written here as closely as possible, then I would go with the following interpretation: newborn Binghe being found by fishermen, who take him to town to see if anyone has lost or abandoned a child, or if anyone is willing to take one in. The only person to agree is this washerwoman. People in town possibly donate some means (baby formula equivalent, kinky plot device plant that kickstarts lactation) to feed this baby or cruelly tell the washerwoman the baby will die. Possibly, the washerwoman goes deeply into debt asking these rich patrons for the means to feed this baby. As Binghe grows up, he spends a lot of time on the streets, begging and scavenging to help his extremely poor adoptive mother. End mostly canonical interpretation.

If we wanted to get a little wild, we could also go with the interpretation that Shen Yuan is incorrect when he uses the word "immediately". Either he misinterpreted something Airplane wrote, or a character relayed information incorrectly in PIDW, or the SVSSS just formed differently to Shen Yuan's impression based on very vague information that Airplane may not have been keeping consistent.

Maybe Su Xiyan actually lived for several months on this ship after giving birth, creating the seals and somehow managing to feed her newborn child (the poison that killed her is a problem with breastfeeding here, but idk, maybe heavenly demon babies can drink blood for all we know, which is something Su Xiyan would know but the washerwoman would not), before setting Binghe adrift. Binghe would be too young to remember this time with his birth mother. I'll have to see what Wu Chen from Zhao Hua Temple says when I get to his explanation of what happened to Su Xiyan in the third book.

#tossawary svsss #tossawary rereads svsss #pidw luo binghe #luo binghe #su xiyan #luo binghe's adoptive mother #luo jiahui #tianlang jun #zhuzhi lang #long post #spoilers

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aleksanderscult · 1 month

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What kind of "Alina" did Aleksander want?

I've seen so many different people in this fandom give their own opinion about how did the Darkling wanted Alina to be.

Did he wanted her meek, weak and obedient?

Did he wanted her strong and powerful?

So I took the liberty of creating this post to analyze this issue through his own words, thoughts and actions.

I know how popular the "Aleksander wanted her submissive by the way he put that collar around her" theory it but it doesn't really stand because:

A) we will never know how things would turn out if Baghra didn't approach Alina that particular night but it actually seems that he wanted to take her with him to the north.

“The key to the Shadow Fold is finally within our grasp, and right now, I should be in the war room, hearing their report. I should be planning our trip north. But I’m not, am I?”

He couldn't keep the truth from her forever so at some point of that journey he would definitely spill the beans to her.

B) he forcefully put the collar around her throat because she showed resistance at the worst possible moment. The Darkling had already set the wheels in motion: the King was slowly getting sick and the whole country (and most importantly, their enemies) would know it (so he had to work fast before anybody got any ideas of siege, rebellion or war) and he himself would have to show his true colors and plans. By having Alina slip away and act all dramatically with Mal was a blow to his plan and stomach since not only he had Alina as an enemy now but he fell for her so her rejection hurt him on a personal level.

(that weekend MUST have been the worst of his life)

He didn't want her to take that power unwillingly:

Or steal her powers in a violent manner:

He had little time and little patience. He worked his ass off for centuries and tolerated so much bullshit from the monarchs. He wouldn't allow her to foil his schemes. But it's also interesting how his feelings got in the way too and, therefore, acted impulsively.

But! How did he want her?

Well, the very fact that he grew up around a very strong, powerful and stubborn woman is an answer by itself. Baghra's influence definitely played its part if you look at this from a psychological point of view.

“It seems that most men are after a significant other that will essentially replace their mum.

A recent study by eHarmony has found that 64 percent of men are in a relationship with someone who shares significant personality traits with their mother. Fortunately, it’s totally normal from an evolutionary, psychological standpoint.”

Many studies have shown that plenty of men and women search a partner that resembles their mother and father respectively.

It wouldn't be surprising if Aleksander was the same given how many centuries he spent with his own mother and how much of an influence the latter was to her son in his childhood.

There is an abundant amount of proof in the books that Aleksander wanted Alina to be strong, powerful, to embrace her true self and believed that there was more to her.

He thought of her as someone like him and could see himself in her, no matter how much Alina denied it.

Baghra raised him to value power, so seeing Alina shy away from it is strange and peculiar to him. She has the chance to change everything and she seeks things that are beneath her. Aleksander can't fathom that because he doesn't believe that she's meant for something as simple and pathetic as this.

He chastises her for the choices she makes and the wishes she has. She was destined to shine and be seen and here we are watching a girl trying to hide her potential.

If Aleksander wanted her submissive he would be glad to see her state in the beginning of S&S. She's weak, right? So a perfect victim to have that can't fight him back. But, in fact, he's furious, disappointed and unsurprised with her state.

Aleksander never wanted her meek or weak. He even admired her stubborness:

(there is a sense of admiration and annoyance here)

BUT he never wanted that stubborness and ferocity to be directed against him:

He even thought of her better than the men that surrounded her and believed that they couldn't measure up to her power:

The aftermath of their battle in the chapel is extremely interesting because we see the Darkling showing a genuine admiration for her powers and how quickly she (sort of) mastered them:

It also seemed that he showed understanding for the fact that she wanted to keep her freedom. Now that was a very good reason to fight him in his eyes. Since the Darkling himself believed in freedom and fought for it.

And, of course, he offered her a throne at his side. He didn't mind sharing power as long as she wasn't an obstacle to his plans.

He strongly believed in equality between them and according to the author he envisioned a future with her:

In order to have someone to keep your power under control then that person needs to be as powerful as you.

And then we have him at his most vulnerable state confess that he didn't lie about equality after all:

He talked about equality again and again. His disgust and anger every time he saw her weak from not using her powers was prevalent as well as his admiration every time she used her powers to their fullest.

The only thing in which he found her inferior to him was her knowledge of power. Which is understandable since Aleksander had much more time to understand it, study it and use it.

In RoW, his anger and disappointment for her state continues.

So:

1) He believed that she could rule as Queen and her life in hiding is not right for her.

2) He believed that she was meant to be powerful and strong and stood by that statement many times.

3) Didn't consider her life a worthy life at all.

The only character in the Grishaverse, the one that people keep saying that she wanted her weak, was the only one that wanted the opposite for her and considered her fate disgusting, wrong and tragic.

His plan of having Alina on an equal stand beside him continued in this book as well:

Which means that he wasn't lying when he said that he didn't intend to make a slave of her.

And of course her stubborness was a trait that he found annoying and admiring at the same time. It showcased how strong-willed she really was:

So according to his own thoughts and words, I would say that Aleksander actually admired her fierceness and determination. It showed strength and he found it attractive. In fact, it probably even enhanced his conviction that she was the right partner for him.

But he didn't want that hostility to be directed against him and his plans. Which is not weird at all because what kind of person would like someone to screw up his goals.

In conclusion: Aleksander was actually the biggest fan of "powerful Alina".

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marvel-ousmondays · 4 months

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Iron Man (2008)

As mentioned in last post, when I went to Iron Man I literally had no idea that such a superhero existed. (I thought Sherlock Holmes with RDJ came out first but apparently not so I had essentially no knowledge of the actor either.) My friends and I decided to spend the day out at the nearest town big enough to have a book store, craft stores, and a Target, as well as a Drive-In movie theater. I was now a college student and enjoying the freedom of no curfew, rebel that I was. I'm pretty sure the movie prior to Iron Man was the Narnia: Prince Caspian movie. I mention this because I hated that movie. It bastardized the book something awful and after the first movie was so faithful an adaptation, this was incredibly disappointing. However, this meant I was doubly primed to appreciate the awesomeness that Iron Man ended up being. I've watched it a few times since then, but usually as background to something else. I decided for this challenge I did REALLY want to watch the movies/shows. No other distractions- just it. I can take breaks (it took me 3 days to finish Iron Man due to various constraints last week) but when I'm watching, I'm JUST watching.

Here were my takeaways this time

The differences in Terrence Howard's Rhodey and Cheadle's Rhodey are always a bit mind boggling and part of what makes Iron Man feel really different from the later films. We're also just starting MCU so while they aren't LACKING budget, it's not the level it would be later. This doesn't hurt the movie at all for the record, if anything I think it meant the story had to be more well-developed and the actors better.

But this first film has a seriousness and a somberness that most of the other films only flirt with (notable exception being Infinity War of course).

The scene where Tony goes back to help Gulmira, Yinsen's home, and we see the 13 year old boy screaming and crying as his father is pried away from their family, the soldiers clearly planning to execute him and all the other grown men. The young boy tears himself away from his mother to his father, determined to keep him, to save him. His father, begging his son to go, so that he will live even though he knows- he KNOWS he will not. This moment of utter terror made personal just before Tony shows up is incredible and all the more so when put into historical context. The U.S. was still in Afghanistan and Iraq at this time and it was easy for citizens here to paint everyone in those areas with the same brush. But in this moment you CAN'T. You HAVE to see the family ripped apart right alongside the terrorists and be forced to realize that race, ethnicity, language don't make terrible people- actions do.

A common criticism of Marvel movies is they don't let a moment sit- that they always break a serious moment with a joke. But this one doesn't do that. There are multiple heavy moments- after Yinsen's death for one and when Pepper nearly quits (because she can't watch Tony self-sabotage and possibly die) and he tells her:

"I shouldn't be alive... unless it was for a reason. I'm not crazy, Pepper. I just finally know what I have to do. And I know in my heart that it's right."

This moment sits between them so clearly, so starkly and it is not ended with a joke, but with Pepper grabbing the flashdrive and asking what to do. (Thinking back, I'm wondering how many of those MCU "broken" moments are by Tony. He's the one uncomfortable with emotion. Him breaking those moments with humor is actually 100% in character. Something to pay attention to as I watch.)

Finally, and perhaps most importantly, some of the key themes of this movie just strike to the heart.

Death from a distance is easy to ignore or even be complicit in, but death up close rips us apart. Tony sold weapons that he knew took lives for years but it wasn't until he watched Yinsen die that I think he really understands what that means. Yes, his parents had died before but he wasn't THERE, he didn't SEE it. This death, this is the one that makes him really know what it means.

You don't have to change everything to be a better person. Tony is still self-centered. He still likes attention. He's still arrogant and as we will see next movie, open to playing the field as Pepper and him haven't committed. But not only has he stopped being complicit in the deaths of the innocent, he's taken on the mantle of protecting them.

Lastly, who the good guys are is largely a matter of perspective. This obviously gets hit harder again in Ultron (oh that glorious train wreck- I'm looking forward to writing about you), but it matters here. Tony was fine manufacturing weapons because he assumed he was supporting the "good guys", the 'Muricans. But not only was Obadiah dirty dealing, he is forced to learn the good guys aren't always as discriminatory with their weapon use as they purport to be. That it's easy to start painting with broad brushstrokes in areas where precision is actually called for.

Overall I'm really glad I PAID attention to this one this round. The grittiness and the depth really hit the way they did the first time or even more so. Onward to The Incredible Hulk, even though it's only semi-canon now.

Note for me:

Directed by: Jon Favreau

#mcu #marvel mcu #marvel #iron man #tony stark

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andreal831 · 4 months

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Do youn think Esther loved all of her children equally and how her relation with Elijah was?

I think Esther is a lot more of a complex character than people want her to be. It's easier if she can just be painted as an awful mother. But it is clear Esther did love her kids, all of them. Just differently. I don't think you can truly measure love in quantity, but she definitely had favorites and least favorites.

Esther loved Freya so much that losing Freya fundamentally changed who she was. She wanted to be a mother so badly that she was willing to do anything to make it happen. People often blame her more for trading Freya for the ability to have children, but don't blame Dahlia for making her own sister trade away her first child. Esther was young when she made that deal and didn't fully know what it meant. She also probably naively believed her sister wouldn't steal her child. But she loved Freya dearly.

Esther also loved Finn a great deal however their relationship grew twisted and toxic because of the loss they both shared. She essentially trauma bonded with her four year old child. Finn's trauma is rarely discussed but it is clear that his mother became his safety after losing Freya. He would do anything for her and Esther exploited this at times and even used him for emotional support. She did love Finn, but the trauma colored that love.

Elijah is her least favorite child. She basically admits it when she tells Klaus that he brought joy to their lives and made them a family again after losing Freya. She was heavily pregnant with Elijah when she lost Freya meaning Elijah's birth and multiple years of life did not bring their family joy or make them feel like a family. Although it's important to remember that while pregnant, she lost her child and moved across the ocean to a new land where she was alone with a volatile husband as this was also the period where Mikael starts becoming a bad/potentially abusive husband. I can't imagine she didn't experience some level of post-partum depression after having him. To top it off, Elijah favors Dahlia more than either of his parents. He likely reminded her of her sister and everything she had lost.

She views Elijah as more of a second parent. She expects him to always behave and keep his siblings in line. When the others step out of line, she has more sympathy for them. She offers Finn, Kol, Klaus, and Rebekah second chances in witch bodies but tortures Elijah, mocking him for what he is and that he is no longer her "noble son." We never see any exchanges between Elijah and Esther that have any type of warmth. This doesn't mean she didn't love him, but hey have a very strained/neglectful relationship.

Klaus is her favorite child. He was the only child she had with the man she truly loved. Even though Klaus seemed to get the brunt of Mikael's anger, he also gets the most protection from Esther. To the point that Finn is jealous of this attention. Klaus arguably did the absolute most vile deeds that should disgust Esther but she still showed love and compassion to him. He was the problematic child that could do no wrong.

Kol is pretty low on the ranks but still above Elijah simply because he had magic. Esther would have wanted to pass on her magic somewhere even is she wasn't truly practicing. She would have loved it but also feared it. Kol would have also driven her crazy because he was always so independent and often getting in trouble.

Rebekah has a special place in her mother's heart as the only daughter she had after losing Freya. It would have been painful at first as she looked so much like the child Esther lost, but she would have viewed it as a second chance. Rebekah always had a soft spot for Esther and losing her mother devastated her.

Henrik is pretty high at the top simply because he is the youngest. Henrik seemed to have a happy spirit from the few brief moments we see him. The baby of the family is always special. His death sent Esther into such a spiral that she created vampirism.

None of this means I think Esther is an awful mother. There are definitely terrible things she does, but at the end of it, she truly loved her children. Was she the best mother in the word, no. But we have to remember she was a young woman who was also a victim.

Thanks for the ask!

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x0x0josephinex0x0 · 4 months

Text

rare child | yeosang

this was a fun one to write! genre: fantasy warnings: def some spookiness and some local folklore inspiration, reader is mentioned to have the form of a woman and gendered terms are used, reader is said to have grayish brown eyes, also reader is some kind of forest spirit/deity so keep that in mind as you read

He was a rare child, that Yeosang.

Not just because he was uncommonly beautiful (which he was) or unusually thoughtful and kind (which was also true). But also because he could see what the normal children could not.

His mother was the first to know his gift, as mothers often are. Her boy was quiet, withdrawn, and rather shy, and she knew the other children in the village could be unkind to those who didn’t want to join in their loud games where they pretended at war or pirate mutinies or crusades. So she, despite the pestering of her husband, did not bar Yeosang from sitting with her on the flat black stone as she tended to the water lilies in their pond.

It was on one of these quiet summer mornings that Yeosang suddenly sat up straight, his eyes wide and frenzied. “What is it, lad?” she whispered to him. And wordlessly, Yeosang had pointed at a lily pad.

“There’s a little person on that flower,” he stated. Not a hint of a joke could be seen written across his delicate features, which were serious and concerned, a little furrow between his brows.

“Which one?” his mother asked, squinting.

“That one, the smallest in the group of three,” he replied, pointing with greater urgency.

“Does it have wings?” his mother asked calmly.

He cranes his neck. “Yes,” Yeosang confirmed. “She’s pretty.”

“She is,” murmured the mother, fighting tears. Her husband had only given her one child, this son, and the family gift was only said to be passed on to daughters. But it seemed Yeosang could see like her. She didn’t understand why — perhaps it was his still, gentle nature that allowed the fair-folk to bestow their favor upon him. But she knew that the gift must be nurtured and protected.

And so, all through his childhood and into adulthood, the boy and his mother spent hours and hours exploring the little world within their village, seeking out the creatures no one else could see. As he grew, the boy became more beautiful and more strange and quieter still, until as an adult whispers went around the village about the son of the healer. Rumor spread that he was cursed, or a changeling, or that he wasn’t a human after all, but rather some creature from the otherworld that had infiltrated the carefully guarded borders of the mortal world. As the rumors grew, the people became more and more unkind, and Yeosang retreated into the forest, building himself a cabin and only venturing down into town for the essentials.

It wasn’t long after the move that Yeosang started seeing the things in the woods. Most were neutral - neither friendly or unfriendly, and not keen to interact with humans. But every once in awhile there was something else — one time, he’d seen a pair of reflective eyes, higher than his own eye level, staring at him from the foreboding treeline. The violently murderous energy radiating from the creature had turned Yeonsang’s blood cold. When he’d done a double-take, whatever it was had vanished…or moved. He’d gone home immediately and locked the door after that. The worst was when he would hear a cheery whistle from the trees that Yeosang could only describe as beckoning. He always ignored it, but it sent full-body chills down his spine every time. Because who — or what — would be so keen to lure him further into the woods?

Yeosang had long learned that if he ignored the more unsavory creatures, they’d leave him alone. So that’s what he did. But that was all about to change.

He’d heard screams in the woods before, and most of the time he’d known it was just one of the things that wanted him to come sprinting into the woods in the dark. But this time it was different. Yeosang was already in the woods, searching by his own torchlight for a particular kind of winter flower for his mother, when the short scream burst through the silence and was immediately cut off, a strange choked yelp in its place. As good as the things were at imitating human noises, that was one he’d never heard before. It struck that particular chord in his body that crystallized into one single, urgent thought in his mind. Real.

So he took off running. This was difficult through the brush and the two feet of powdery snow, but he managed, bounding into a clearing and stopping in his tracks at what he saw.

A woman — from the looks of it — was tied by the wrists and waist to a tree, shrouded by fifteen or so humanoid figures in long black cloaks. A knife protruded from a wound in her chest.

A wound that leaked silver blood.

Without really knowing why, Yeosang shouted, “let her go!” And then watched with distrust as the figures dissipated like smoke into the surrounding line of firs.

—-

You were fading. You could feel it.

In a fever dream, you felt your soul straining against the tether binding it to the broken wreck that had been the body it had inhabited for the whole of your immortal existence. Death was not something common to your kind, but as you hovered between it and the pain of staying alive, you once again felt a moment of kinship with the humans. No wonder so many saw death as mercy, if living felt like this.

It was odd being in this position. You weren’t able to move your limbs in your disconnected state, and yet, your heightened senses allowed you to feel and nearly see the warm hands that tended to the wound in your chest. All you knew was that someone was taking care of you. After all the torture you’ve been through, the feeling of hands on you is frightening, but these hands are gentle and skilled in healing. As time passes, you start to become aware of voices.

“Why do you think they did this to her?” asks a soft deep voice.

“Religious turf war, I’ll bet. She governs the forest, and another deity wanted it,” a higher voice, probably feminine replies.

“I didn’t think goddesses could die.” This was a whisper. Barely distinguishable.

“They can’t,” the feminine voice assures. “Unless you exert inhuman effort. The only way to kill a goddess is to call a demon.”

A sharp gasp came from the deeper voice — and then you felt a hand on your face.

“She’s beautiful.”

“Even now,” the deep voice agrees.

“And she hasn’t died yet. I think she’s still deciding.”

There is a pause. You are starting to drift out of awareness again, but just before you sink into the warm nothingness, you hear the deep voice whisper, “you should stay. I’d like to know you.”

—-

It takes another two weeks for you to open your eyes.

Every day when Yeosang would check on you, there would be a new improvement, which he would write in a little notebook he kept by his bed — a bed which you now occupy. On Tuesday: a new flush in the cheeks. On Wednesday: deeper, more filling breaths. On Thursday: slight movement in the fingers. And so on. Your eyelids flutter for an hour before you blink them all the way open, peering around the cottage with a wide grayish-brown gaze. The first thing they really land on is the pretty boy in a chair at your bedside, sitting with rapt attention, enthralled by every one of your movements.

“Oh,” you say, your softly musical voice laced with recognition.

Because of course you know this boy — the one who sang mournful songs at the base of the trees he felled to build his cabin, who left warm honey in little jars through the forest for the fairies who dwelt there in your care, whom you had paid a visit to months before. You hadn’t gone in your true form, instead choosing to follow him as a fawn, curious as to how he could see your subjects so clearly and even more puzzled at how kind he was to them. You had watched him from a distance, trying not to alert him to your presence, and had been shocked when he had laid a loaf of freshly baked bread at the mouth of a brownie’s lair. Where most humans were frightened by you and your kind, this odd human seemed to care for them.

Yeosang reaches a hand out toward you before thinking better of it and withdrawing it. “My lady,” he says with a small nod. “How do you feel?”

Angry. Overwhelmed. Crushed. “Who are you?” you say, and you can hear how frightened your voice is — it shakes around the corners of your words.

Yeosang moves his chair forward quietly. “It’s alright,” he whispers. “You’re safe.”

When your eyes narrow in suspicion, he sighs. “My name is Yeosang.”

“You’re the boy with the honey,” you venture, and though your eyes are still hesitant, they seem to warm just slightly.

“Yes,” he agrees. “I am.” He looks at you — really looks at you, like no human had ever looked at you before as the keeper of the forest, with a mixture of wonder and curiosity and trepidation. Your heart speeds up, beating painfully, reminding you of the wound you’d sustained. Your hands fly up to your chest, where a neat row of stitches hold what was probably a gaping hole closed.

You take a deep breath, but despite your efforts to remain calm, a wild breeze blows through the cabin, buffeting Yeosang back from your side. He has to hold onto the doorframe to keep from being blown right off his feet, and stares at you almost reproachfully after the gust dies down -- which almost makes you laugh.

But then Yeosang approaches you again, and his fingers wrap around your nearest hand, which is ice cold. He rubs warmth into it, a familiar action it seems he has practiced many times before. “Do you know why you were in that clearing?”

You clench your jaw to avoid releasing another flurry of wind. “Yes,” you say grimly. “Because of a demon who wants this forest for his own. If I hadn’t recovered, you and your village would be decimated by him. As it is, he is probably thinking of ways to come for me again.”

“How did he capture you?” Yeosang asks curiously.

“Like a coward,” you spit. “He snuck up on me. If he had tried to take me head-on, I could’ve fought him off.”

“I believe you,” Yeosang breathes, still massaging your cold fingertips with his warm ones. You fixate on this for a moment -- it has been eons since you felt a human’s touch.

“Most mortals can’t see me,” you finally say, looking up into his dark eyes. “And around here, the only ones who could see me were --”

“Women,” Yeosang finishes. “Yes, my mother told me.”

“Who is your mother, then?” you asked him.

“She is the healer in the village. Her family has the favor of the fair-folk.” He clears his throat and avoids your gaze. “Somehow, I inherited it, although it’s only supposed to pass to the daughters. Perhaps it’s because I am my mother’s only child.”

You watch as he tangles his fingers with yours absently -- another familiar gesture, and yet it makes your stomach flip over. “How long have I been --”

“It’s been a month,” Yeosang says. “The forest is unusually dark these days.”

“It’s because of me,” you whisper. Slowly, you move to sit up, and Yeosang springs into action, reaching around to support you as you inch into a seated position.

You can’t help but stare at him, his soft dark hair falling in front of his eyes, his uncommonly beautiful face inches from your own. He is not paying attention in the slightest, using all of his focus to help you, stepping back once you are sitting up with your back against the headboard. “Is this alright?” he asks you, watching you carefully as he steps back a single pace.

“Yes,” you reassure him. And truly, you feel galvanized now that you aren’t flat on your back. “Are you not afraid of me?” you ask suddenly, surprised by his closeness.

“Do I need to be afraid of you?” he counters, a bit amused.

“Right now, maybe not,” you allow. “But when I haven’t just been pulled back from the brink of death, I am normally one of the more powerful forest guardians that exist in this world. Most humans feel...unsettled in my presence.”

Yeosang blushes. “I never said I don’t feel unsettled.”

“So you are afraid, then?” you ask him with a raised eyebrow.

Slowly, he shakes his head. “More...nervous,” he admits, avoiding eye contact.

The room feels suddenly hot, and his hand in yours becomes somehow heavier. As you try to determine the reason for this sudden shift in your mood, the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

Something is watching you from the trees.

You can almost see them through the brush visible through Yeosang’s small bedroom window -- you probably would be able to see them if it weren’t for your current state of weakness. As it is, the only thing you can pick out is a sound: the slow, careful shifting of weight of something trying not to be seen. This was a common enough sound. Animals do it all the time. But this is different. Every other noise from the forest falls silent to listen to it.

Yeosang watched you carefully as your spine stiffens, your stormy grayish-brown eyes narrowing as you strain to pick out what you’re hearing. And then, through the eerie silence — that whistle. The same beckoning call Yeosang had been hearing since he moved to his cottage on the darkest forest’s edge. Carefully extracting his hand from yours, he steps in front of the window and locks it. After pulling the curtains closed, he looks around at you with a smile that doesn't reach his eyes. “Get some rest. I will come for you in the morning.”

“You knew what that was?” you ask him. It was just a guess, but he’s grown pale, and his dark eyes are wide.

He doesn’t reply, just unconsciously places a comforting hand at your shoulder. Then finally he speaks. “I don’t know what it is. I just know that it scares me.”

******

It takes you another week to feel like yourself again. Yeosang bullies you into walking through the closest trees with him, but respects your wishes not to travel back into the deep woods. Instead, the two of you walk side-by-side, usually hand-in-hand, the human and the guardian of the wood, and talk -- about everything from Yeosang’s childhood memories to your favorite creatures from the forest. You are fascinated by the beauty and strangeness of him, and the more he speaks, the more you find yourself wishing to know about him.

On the sixth day since you awakened, it snows. You step outside to watch the white flakes dance down from the clouds, finally able to see the patterns in each one. Yeosang is quiet for a human, but the sound of the powder beneath his feet alerts you to his presence behind you. A part of you wants to turn toward his warmth, toward that funny little smile that he always seems to wear when he speaks to you, but you’re too occupied by the falling snow. “Hello,” you call.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” he replies fondly.

“I love the snowflakes,” you tell him.

“I can see that.” You hear him take a step closer, and jump a little when you feel a hand at your waist, but relax into his touch easily. “It’s just me,” he reminds you in a soothing voice as his arms wrap around you, his chin finding a resting place in the crook of your shoulder.

“I know,” you say softly as you almost automatically entwine your arms with his. He’s never held you like this before, but the warmth is welcome.

“Is this alright?” he murmurs in your ear.

You lean into him further. “You’re warm,” you reply, and Yeosang chuckles, pressing his lips to the side of your head.

“So are you.”

There is something ancient about the way it feels to be so close to him — something that, for all your time watching over the trees, you can’t remember experiencing as an immortal being. And yet, it’s as familiar as breathing. It reminds you of when you were human.

That afternoon, on your walk, it is Yeosang who asks the question. “Were you always...the way you are now?” he asks, squeezing your hand as it swings back and forth in his own.

The corners of your lips raise. “Why do you ask?”

He blushes a little. “Well, for a deity, you seem so...” He trails off. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to offend you.”

“You haven’t offended me,” you say, amused. He hadn’t even finished his sentence. “I was human, once.”

“You were?” he says, nodding for you to continue.

You sigh. “It was...an age ago, it seems. Hundreds of years. Maybe thousands.” The memories are fuzzy, but after all this time, you still ache. “You want to hear the story?”

“Please,” Yeosang implores.

You take a deep breath and fixate on the bare branches of the trees overhead. “The forest was new then. I was young. And in love. It is hard to remember exactly what happened...someone from my family didn’t approve. I was...nobility, I suppose you might call it. And he was a farmer who lived on our land.”

“Do you remember his name?” Yeosang asks.

You shake your head. “Only that it sounded like music to me.” The ache in your chest is growing sharper now, more pronounced, as though the wound Yeosang removed the stitches from only days ago has split wide open again. “We ran from our village into these trees. Deep within them. And we got lost. The woods were empty then — it was a bitter winter, and we didn’t have any food or any way to get it. I had been well-fed, but he…”

You are surprised at how easily the tears spring to your eyes as you struggle to recall what happened. Drawing in a great shuddering breath, you continue. “In the end, it wasn’t even the starvation that took him from me. It was love. He gave me his cloak to wear as a blanket every night when we slept, and one morning I woke to him sitting cold and unmoving beside me.”

Yeosang is still watching you with gentle eyes, offering an arm around your shoulders to comfort against the cold and the rising emotion. “My kind are made immortal by some unknown power that attaches to us, at the right place, in the right time, and only when we are at our most vulnerable. At this very moment, when I lost a love meant to last eons, the transformation took place. With every cry of all-consuming anguish, I found myself slipping further into madness, until I was as wild and undying as the woods themselves.”

“Have you loved since then?” Yeosang quietly questions. His arm around your shoulders, the shawl he wraps around you every time you’re about to leave the warmth of the hearth, the days he spent at your side as you decided whether to succumb to death or not, all swirl around like a breeze in your mind.

You give a soft laugh. “I am made of love. It is the reason I persist. I can do nothing without it. I love the trees as my own home. I love the creatures who dwell in my home like my own children. I even love the human lovers who have wandered into my arms.”

“Do I have a place in your heart?” Yeosang asks. “Am I one of your children, then? Or one of your trusts?”

The moment you look into his eyes, you have your answer. “You are not like a child or a lover to me, no.”

“Then what am I?” he challenges. And his voice is still quiet, but his eyes flash.

“I see in you the echo of the love that changed me,” you whisper, pausing in your walk to bring a chilled finger up to Yeosang’s pink cheek. “You have the same essence.” You hesitate before you make your tearful admission. “A part of me fears that you’ll meet the same fate he did.”

Your murmur sends a shiver down Yeosang’s spine — or perhaps it’s the contrast of your cold hand against his face — but he takes a step closer, so close you can feel the warmth coming from him.

“Let me be clear, then. I may not be the only one you love, nor can I be the first, but I want to be the name that even thousands of years cannot erase from your memory.”

And then he presses his lips to yours.

You are only able to register the sensation -- the soft brush of sensitive skin, and his large, calloused hands cradling your face -- before the wind starts, buffeting the two of you as you stand in each other’s embrace. You feel it snake up your body, stealing the warmth from your limbs as you cling to Yeosang.

It is odd, though. Even as the wind picks up speed, flinging your skirts and your hair and the snow all around you, you feel as though nothing exists but the feel of Yeosang’s kiss, as though time has stopped for just this moment and you and he are the only real things in the world. His hands slide back to knot in your hair as he deepens the kiss, seemingly unperturbed by the raging gale around him, as content to do it amid the frigid gusts of air as he would by a warm fire.

In the evening, when it is time for sleep, you wordlessly pull Yeosang into his own bed again to sleep beside you, knowing he will understand the invitation for what it is. You spend the cold night curved around each other, his muscular arms wrapped snugly around your waist, keeping each other warm. In your immortality, you had shared a bed with many humans, and you always knew it would be temporary. With Yeosang, it almost convinces you that you are human again.

***

One night, not long later, your sleep is unsettled. You hover between waking and uneasy dreams full of shadows and teeth, your eyes flying open as you realize the space in the bed that Yeosang usually occupies is empty. The panic grows worse when you realize that there is a cold draft in the cabin from the door that’s propped open, swinging gently in the freezing wind.

Petrified, you jolt out of bed and run to the doorway, the sight that greets you only confirming your fears. There are no footsteps in the newly fallen snow leading down from the cabin’s steps. Yeosang has been taken.

Just as you come to this realization, the wind suddenly falls silent, and you hear it.

The whistle. The cheery, beckoning sound -- the invitation to travel deeper into the woods.

You pull the blanket around your shoulders, tug on your boots, and run into the snow, heading right into the trees.

The whistle guides you, occasionally sounding from your right or left as an indication to turn. As you run, you feel a friendly breeze picking up speed beside you, blowing you quicker toward your destination. Thanks to your forest, and the life that inhabits it, you are able to cut an inhumanly quick path through the growth, even allowing the wind to fully carry you down the steeper hills and around particularly sharp turns, until you come upon a wide clearing and stop in your tracks.

Because there is Yeosang, crumpled at the feet of something that is nearly impossible to make out in the darkness. Once you can tell what it is, it is only your immortal side that keeps your human side from bolting like a deer at the sound of a branch cracking.

It is about the height of a man, with what looks like the face of a man -- but it’s too long, slightly too smooth and hairless, and the eyes are unnaturally glassy, like a doll’s. It turns its head as you burst into the clearing, its movements jerky and awkward, as though imitating a human rather than really being one. The arms are too long as well, as are the fingers, and as the mouth splits open in a grotesque attempt at a smile, the teeth glint unnaturally, almost like animal eyes do at night.

The voice that echoes across the clearing doesn’t seem to be coming from the creature’s mouth. Rather, it seems to materialize from the darkness, as sudden and harsh as a slap to the face. “The lady of the forest has returned.”

You give the creature your coldest stare. “So it seems,” you call back. “What have you done to the human?”

You can hear the anger in your voice, hot and dark as the moonless night. It would make other creatures cringe and cower, but this foul beast only laughs, a clicking, disharmonious sound that scrapes at the bones. “He offered me his life for yours when I came to end your life tonight,” the creature tells you. “Poor thing. I think he thinks he’s in love with you.”

“This war is between us,” you say. “Release him, and let us finish this.”

Another sickening laugh sounds across the clearing before the creature begins to limp toward you at a jarring speed, contorting hideously onto all fours as it gets closer. You breathe in the frigid night air and feel the heat rising in your chest as your whole body lifts off the forest floor into the air. The wind starts to whip around furiously, coming to your aid, as usual. You hover two feet above ground and look upward as light begins to erupt from your fingertips, the crown of your head, even your chin and your cheekbones. The clearing is suddenly illuminated, and the creature shrieks as beams of hot light zap into its skin, creating disc-sized burn marks all over its body..

But then yet another shout echoes across the clearing. You look toward the sound to see Yeosang, his brow furrowed in that same way it had been the first day you’d woken up, when you’d nearly blown him out of the room. Almost amused, almost reproachful. He’s alive, you think, and the wind slows down enough for you to drop to the ground and bolt towards Yeosang through the piles of untouched snow as the creature writhes in pain behind you.

You notice he’s kneeling as you approach, and you slide to your knees as well when you reach him, flinging your arms around Yeosang’s neck. “What did he do to you? Where are you hurt?” you ask him frantically

He gently pulls away. “I am not hurt,” he insists, pushing your hair out of your face so he can better cradle it. “I came freely.”

“Why were you unconscious?” you ask. “And why did you go with him?”

He sighs. “His power was growing every day. I knew he would come for you soon. It was the only way I could think to keep him from doing anything to you.”

The creature behind you has now recovered, and is scuttling toward you once again. “Get behind me!” you scream at Yeosang, flinging your arms out and letting a jet of light shoot from your eyes. It sears a small burn into the creature’s hand, and it screeches, but there’s another yell -- this time from Yeosang. When you whirl around, he’s nursing a burnt hand, too.

“What --” you begin, but Yeosang interrupts by placing both hands on your shoulders.

“Listen carefully, my darling,” he says urgently. “I made a deal with him.”

“No,” you say, rejecting this news immediately. Because to make a deal with something like that monster meant certain death for a human. Their deals are unbreakable, inescapable, binding. If Yeosang really did this, he’s lost to you forever.

“He promised to leave the village and your forest alone,” Yeosang continues, ignoring your protest.

“And what must you give him?” you demand, terrified of his answer.

He gives a weak smile. “Everything.”

“What does that mean?” you ask in a broken whisper.

“The way he tells it, he will absorb me into himself. I will...become something different. Perhaps something like he is.”

You cannot speak. You simply stare at Yeosang, who is eyeing the creature over your shoulder, still staggering in pain. “Please, my love. Please get yourself somewhere safe. You cannot hurt him without hurting me, so there’s nothing more you can do here.”

Your thoughts are racing. “Not again,” you say quietly. “Not this again. No.”

When you were human you might have had words for the grief you feel, because as a human your capacity for it was so much smaller. Many times you’ve wondered if that’s not why you were changed -- because your pain was so overwhelmingly large that you couldn’t manage it unless you became impenetrable. But it is the first time since the change that you’ve felt this way: the ground beneath you seems to crumble to dust, the world fading to a helpless gray devoid of all the colors of hope and joy and lust and love and passion and mercy and goodness. “You cannot leave me here without you,” you say in a flat voice that can barely contain the burgeoning storm inside you, which threatens to burst from you at any moment. This is the first time you’ve said out loud what has been screaming in your brain for as long as you have been immortal.

His smile is sad. “I don’t know if we have much choice, love,” he admits. “Can you make me a promise?” When you don’t answer, he quickly continues, “Will you say my name every day, for the rest of eternity? So that you never forget about me, or how much I loved you?”

“Yeosang,” you whisper, and he nods in gratitude. But he doesn’t realize -- the emotions are bubbling up, dangerously close to the surface, and as the creature your love is chained to begins gearing up for another attack, a bright light bursts from you, from every part of your body. This is not the searing light of destruction: this is pure power, and it envelopes both he and the creature.

At the same time, you let out a primal shriek that echoes through the forest, raising a sea of bats into the night in fright and causing owls and mice and other nocturnal creatures miles away to become disoriented and confused. Even the tenants of the village hear the scream of a goddess, noting how it shakes the earth and brings piles of snow and ice hurtling down from the trees.

As the light surrounds Yeosang and the creature, the beast begins to dissolve. Bit-by-bit, the creature’s essence is absorbed into Yeosang’s body -- preserving the sanctity of the deal, but preserving the one person you refuse to lose. It happens quickly, the light fading with your scream, and by the time all traces of it have evaporated into the air, Yeosang collapses to the ground. You fall to your knees, exhausted, but can’t help but crawl through the snow toward his fallen figure. As you gently roll him over, he opens his eyes, and they glow red in the darkness.

You blink once, before the searing pain behind your eyes overtakes you and you faint.

*** Immortality is an intoxicating and dizzying mass of colors and lights, where the sequencing of time becomes distorted and waxy. Life among the trees gives your immortality structure, the changing of the seasons making obvious the passage of years, into decades, into centuries.

And every autumn, your heart returns to you.

He had survived the contract -- not just his body, but his soul. In the many conversations the two of you had had, in the dead of the forest, in the heart of the winter, he’d told you that he secretly believed this had been the reason for his strange gift. In an odd way, he’d been destined to save you.

There was something inside of him that kept the darkness in him at bay -- he swore that it was his love for you, but as sweet as that was, you felt that it was simply his goodness, his purity, that kept him from acting on the rabid hunger that possessed him. Because it was him -- he couldn’t, he wouldn’t.

There was a sadness to everything, though. As the world became warmer, the anger he held inside of him became restless, and he would need to leave. You didn’t quite understand, but you knew how tenuous his hold on himself could be if he tried to stay with you, so at the opening of spring, he would depart, leaving you to rule the forest on your own for half of the year. But he always returns to bring the autumn.

Even now, you wait in the customary clearing, unable to keep a smile from your face as a chill steals over the earth. You watch as the grass frosts beneath your very feet, and the whistle sounds from the treeline. The whole world seems to hold its breath for a moment, and then --

He emerges from the trees, as beautiful as ever, shrouded in shadows and with his piercing red-tinged eyes fixed unfailingly on you.

And your whisper seeps through the whole clearing as the frost does.

“Yeosang.”

#ateez #ateez fic #ateez x reader #ateez x you #yeosang #kang yeosang #yeosang x reader

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strawberrynightmere · 1 year

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Grave Robbery (Yandere! Fushiguro fam x Necromancer female!reader)

⚠️TW: yandere tendencies, grave robbery (mentioned), necromancy (mentioned), cannon divergence (like a lot will be changed), some nsfw-is elements at the end (I guess)

Side note: I can't belive I forgot about Tsumiki, she will be involved here too.

🌸🌸🌸🌸

You are a necromancer and you drive serial killers insane for shits and giggles. The pay is good but you're not nearly on clock like the jujutsu sorcerers are, so you have side-gigs.

One of them is being a temporary nanny for the Fushiguro family, the pay covered way more than you essentially needed, all for housework and taking care of two well-behaved kids; Tsumiki and Megumi.

Their father (your employer) is almost never home and when he is, he's usually there for a few days before leaving for his job which lasts from a few weeks or longer. In all honesty, when he is home you try to avoid him as much as possible. Why? There is just something off about him.

"Will you marry dad?" Tsumiki asked.

"No." You answered bluntly while washing the dishes.

"Yes." Megumi fired back.

"No."

"Yes!" Now it was Tsumikis turn.

"No."

"Yes!" Both answered in unison.

"No."

"No!" The old trick in the book.

"No." The two were pouting in disappointment.

"Why do you want me to marry him anyway?"

"So we can call you mom."

"You call me that every day."

"So... you could... live us."

"But I already live with you."

"Yes, but forever."

So that's what this is all about. You rinse the last dish and put it off to dry and kneel down to their level.

"Listen, I can't stay here forever, only until your dad finds someone who can take my place."

"Nooo!" Both tackle you and cry. You can understand why they're acting like this. You're the closest thing to a mother to them, Tsumiki vaguely remembers her adoptive mother and Megumi when she passed away.

"Alright! Alright! Get off. It's time for bed, both of you." Since they didn't budge, you just ended up carrying them to bed.

---

After two hours, you successfully cleaned the apartment. You can go to bed and watch The 1am Special on your phone.

You almost jumped out of your skin when you heard the front door slam open and shut. That was probably your boss. It obviously wasn't the first time he entered the house like that at this ungodly hour. Better put him in bed, too.

"Welcome back, sir." Did he reek of alcohol. You carefully guide him to his bedroom and lay him down. Unfortunately, he doesn't let you go. Instead, he wraps his arms around you and pulls you down with him.

"Goddammit." He was out like a light, and you were stuck. You don't hate this job, but it's supposed to be temporary, and it doesn't seem like they won't let you go anytime soon.

An idea formed in your mind. It's not a good one, but it might work.

---

"O-one second! I was dead?!" Poor Mrs. Fushigura was trying to put 2 and 2 together while also putting herself together.

"Ho-how long was I gone?!" She was frantic, which was understandable.

"A few years, not that long. The kids started school, so you missed like two or three milestones, nothing bad, they're still growing up." You better keep your mouth shut. Her reaction wasn't getting any better.

"No panic! No panic! I'll help you adjust to this sudden change." You put reassuring hand on her shoulder, trying to calm her down.

---

Your plan worked... in a way. The family was happy that you brought Mrs. Fushiguro back from the dead. Alright, your boss was happy, and he he expressed it weirdly. The kids, however, were awkward at first, but they came around.

And you kept your word, helping Mrs. Fushiguro adjust to her new life before leaving.

"So there are different rituals for different corpses?" Mrs. Fushiguro asked, interested in your field of work.

"More so for how long the person was dead, that is." You hand her a cup of tea before sitting next to her.

"Like for you; I had to make a grave robbery not look like a grave robbery, plus the preparations. Don't have to do that with a newly dead person." You let out a half-hearted,'heh' as she just nodded, and you both drank tea.

"Thank you so much for helping me adjust with everything."

"No need to thank me." You try to brush it off.

"Really!" She puts a hand on your thigh. "I am really thankful to you." She looks at you in a way you can't figure out.

---

Having drinks with your employers on your last day was not something you would plan, but you think to yourself might as well have a small celebration on the last day.

One drink after another, your vision becomes blurry, and your other senses are dulled. Something in the back of your head screams to get out of there, but your body is heating up.

"It's getting too late. We should take you back home."

---

You're not sure when and how you woke up naked and sandwiched between them with a splitting headache, and the sunlight wasn't doing you any favors.

"Morning sweetheart, hope we weren't too rough with you." You feel Toji's lips going up your back and shoulders as soft hands rub up and down your body.

"Let her be dear. She had a long night."

You feel yourself drift back to sleep again, aware that there's no way you're getting out of here.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

I had no intention of writing this. I hope it's not disappointing.

#yandere jjk #yandere fushiguro family #yandere toji #yandere megumi #yandere tsumiki fushiguro #yandere mrs. fushiguro #yandere jujutsu kaisen

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shoujomangathoughts · 7 months

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Chihayafuru Thoughts - Random Moments

The return of my Chihayafuru thoughts! This time I’m gonna focus on a couple random scenes that either stuck out to me in some way or that I don't really have another post or larger topic to fit them into. This may become a series for me to talk about moments I enjoy but I don't really have a larger narrative through line to talk about in regards to them. There will be light spoilers for essentially the whole series so here's your warning.

This scene has always fascinated and lowkey amused me. This comes right after the chapter where Taichi wouldn't allow Chihaya to go to his room and when he ate the cake off her spoon, and for Chihaya to notice that he's acting strange is interesting to me. I say this mostly because it's so early on and yet she just kind of forgets or gets used to it because she doesn't ever really mention it again. Technically Taichi still had a girlfriend at this point and I don't think he'd fully figured out his feelings either, but the fact that she seemed to be noticing and then later was completely blindsided by his feelings has always made this moment stay in my mind. It's also fascinating because so many others noticed his feelings too; Kana, Sumire, Harada, Tsuboguchi, Desktomu (he wasn't surprised Taichi liked Chihaya, only that he was turned down), hell even Chitose called it out and she was hardly ever around them.

//Also as a sidenote, while I love many of the different art styles and the evolution of the manga's art, something about the art early on hits different.//

I know this chapter and Chihaya's "answer" ruffled some feathers, especially when the author seemed to say Arata was soft-rejected here (some people seem to think of that as "damage control", but with this among some other things she's said, I think it's worth noting when an author who writes so many things in interpretable or relatively vague ways actually comes right out and clarifies what she meant). My reading of this scene (even before knowing what Suetsugu said) was that Arata was indeed soft-rejected, and that him saying "I'll work on getting closer to you" is an acknowledgement of the fact that outside of karuta, he and Chihaya don't have all that much of a bond. I think this is interesting since I can't think of many instances where he did truly work on that, but I always thought that he was becoming more aware of the fact that he and Chihaya weren't as close as he probably wanted them to be. I've seen the blushing get brought up as a defense of her "not actually rejecting" him but I think in general, they're both awkward and talking about love and his romantic feelings which can be a bit embarrassing and awkward. The most important thing here for me was that Chihaya herself never really gave an indication that she was telling him to wait or that she'd have more to say at a later time. She said how she was feeling in that moment; doesn't mean it'd never change, but to me she very clearly didn't reciprocate his feelings in this chapter despite having every chance to say it if she had.

I think, on a whole, Shinobu is one of the most fascinating characters in the series. Seeing how isolated she is and how much the game means to her, and seeing how dejected and outright frustrated she gets that she can't make a career out of it is one of my favorite parts of her arc. This line about creating a profession being the reason she's using social media (rather than reaching some level of celebrity) has always stood out to me. She realizes that she can't make money from the one thing she has the most interest and passion in, and resolves herself to carve a place out for herself instead of accepting that no such place exists. I've also always found her relationship with her mother interesting as Shinobu very clearly sees certain things in her mother that she doesn't want for herself (there's a line about being a leech off her grandmother that particularly drives this home). And similarly her mother is clumsy in communicating with Shinobu and is at times almost vicariously living through her and her accomplishments in karuta, yet here we get a moment of her mother starting to see her in another light. After this is when we start seeing her mom try a little harder to support and watch over her because she sees her daughter fighting for her future in a way that she seemingly stopped doing (if she ever did). Shinobu on a whole is quite independent at the start of the series, in part due to her isolation, but I loved watching her gradually gain more people around her and how she opened up.

This is a small moment but one that I really like. Taichi and Chihaya seem to have mostly gotten past the awkwardness of some of their previous post-Taichi confession interactions and seem comfortable again. But then when Taichi mentions the fact that Chihaya covered for Hanano when they took a picture at the queen match, we get a panel where she just stares at him. I've always seen this as a moment where it's reiterated to Chihaya how well Taichi knows her and how easily he reads her. In a way it seems like she feels she can't hide things from him, which makes sense as this is right before she confesses her feelings. It almost feels reminiscent of the "he's the guy who's always been working hard with me" line and the "Taichi's always been by my side" line. She's entirely focused on him.

Though she's by no means a super prominent character in the series, I really like Miyauchi-sensei. From going to a teacher who thought of Chihaya as only being an eccentric girl to seeing how much passion and effort the karuta club was putting into practicing and playing. There are a lot of small but great moments with her throughout. Making the team tasukis and later headbands, supporting the students even at tournaments unrelated to the school (Yoshino and the Queen match come to mind); she really ended up attached to and inspired by these kids. That's why I picked these panels to talk about her. It's a full circle moment where she thinks about the end of the first generation of the karuta club, and the fact that she's emotional is proof that this club has become something special to her as well something she will likely protect in the future.

Another relatively brief moment but one that I think encapsulates one of my favorite themes in the series: youth. This moment where Tsuboguchi talks about youth describes a lot of the commentary the series makes on the topic. We see primarily high schoolers but also characters like Harada, Inokuma, Sakurazawa, Tsuboguchi himself, Sakura, etc. all be examples of players who continue playing despite varying life circumstances. We see people carry passion way further into life than just during their high school years and I feel as though that's an important thing communicated in the series, especially given how karuta and its tournaments work. Having something you're passionate about and continuing down that path or finding new ways to reach people with a similar interest is a beautiful thing. It's reiterated throughout the series how important the time they have in high school is because life will get more complicated when they graduate, but this panel of Tsuboguchi talking to his team and telling them that he enjoys the game even more now is a great reminder that life doesn't end with graduating high school. As someone who was already out of high school when I read this series for the first time, I really enjoyed moments like this that remind younger people to value time in high school while not letting it be their peak (though in some physical aspects like Chihaya's hearing, it might be the peak lol).

This one is based almost solely on Taichi's line "sorry for standing in your way". I've always been intrigued by the author's choice of using this line because it comes across as somewhat more negative and direct than I expected when reading this part. I know sometimes this is the result of fan translation (still unbelievably grateful for the work they put in to help make things accessible though!), but for sake of analyzing this, I'll refer to this translation. To me, Taichi says this probably for a couple reasons. One of which is that it's the end of the match where Arata truly saw him as a proper rival for the first time, and just as Arata could tell that Taichi "loathed him", Taichi could also tell that Arata viewed him as a nuisance. I think this just kind of slipped out after Taichi lost which makes sense because no one is happy to lose to their closest rival. I think another reason that he specifically uses "standing in your way" is because as we essentially know (but it's confirmed later), Taichi feels left behind after watching Arata and Chihaya announce their goals to be Meijin and Queen as kids. They both have been chasing that dream the whole time whereas Taichi has been unsure of himself. He probably doesn't think he is as "deserving" of facing the Meijin because that hasn't been his goal the entire time and he knows that's always been Arata's goal. Either way, even if it was said only out of bitterness, Taichi and Arata hug it out afterwards and Taichi is able to encourage Arata to win. Just always been an interesting choice of dialogue to me.

One of the best parts of Arata's arc for me is when he finally realizes that as much as he loves his late grandpa and his karuta, there is a certain pressure that comes from following a prominent player. Realizing that he's been hypocritical about playing your "own" karuta and that he's tried to avoid nervousness for important matches by leaning on his grandpa's style are truly great moments for him. I also love how this is explicitly communicated by his dad, who turned away from the game because his father was so extraordinary at it. Watching Arata use things that he learned from practicing with his grandpa as well as playing in a way that suits him is genuine growth. He's taking the time they spent together and using it as a push to help him continue down the road to become Meijin himself. I also really like the support that he feels from Chihaya and Taichi in these moments as well; a nice reminder of some of the other people most instrumental in who he is in the present. The moment when Taichi walks in and Arata realizes that he "crushed his dream" is a nice way of showing Arata getting out of his head and just playing in a way that feels the most natural to him. He realizes that to get to where he was, other people have had dreams trampled and that this was a match he shouldn't waste by getting mentally blocked. At the end, when he describes playing Suou as being similar to playing his grandpa, it's nice to see him acknowledging that in order to be himself, he had to feel as though he'd surpassed his grandpa in some way. Reminds me of the times throughout the series where students are afraid of playing their teachers because of the fear of "acting like a student" rather than a rival. Arata came a long way as a player and the Meijin matches provided a lot of good insight into a character who was so confident most of the time.

This was something that's been in my drafts for a bit as a space to put some ideas down for another Chihayafuru post, but I didn't really feel the need to make long posts about each so I just kind of put them all together. Thanks for reading if you made it this far!

#chihayafuru #manga #ayase chihaya #mashima taichi #wataya arata #shinobu wakamiya

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sophieinwonderland · 8 months

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Imitated DID 2 - Hysterical Boogaloo

We're diving back in from where we left off last time. Now with the "hysterical" group.

There is actually a certain level of logic to part of this.

I don't diagnose people with disorders. But when talking about plurality with questioning systems, I find it much more useful to ask about their internal experiences and hear them described in their own words.

Especially because a lot of medical jargon and even plural community terms kind of suck for describing these type of experiences. If someone isn't describing things in their own words, I can understand feeling like they might be faking. But that doesn't mean they are.

Comorbid Mental Illnesses can affect communication: We have ASD. If you've noticed, we tend to use jargon and big words a lot. I often make up my own jargon too because much of what I see from psychiatry is inadequate. (I could go on long rants about how meaningless the word "dissociation" is.)

The issue is that a lot of people with ASD or other disorders might behave like this. We might use clinical words if we've studied them. I'd like to think We would have the presence of mind to not reply to a psychiatrist asking "what do you mean by amnesia" by explaining whether our amnesia is retrograde or anterograde, but I could easily imagine someone else doing that.

Some people also have personality types where they might be seeking respect, and trying to impress a psychiatrist with their knowledge of academic terms.

Perhaps what appears to not be genuine is just another condition that makes people communicate in ways a neurotypical wouldn't be expected to.

This also goes for other behavior that appears non-genuine. Maybe someone presenting more overt presentation just doesn't have a filter or social awareness.

(Also, amnesia isn't even professional jargon. It's used all the time by lay people.)

Again, most people with DID stated they would miss the voices of their alters: Like I said in the last post, 69% of DID voice hearers said they would miss their alters' voices if they were gone.

The feeling of "I won't let anybody take them away from me!" isn't uncommon. They're in the MAJORITY. Maybe expressing these feelings aloud is uncommon. But that just makes me further suspect influence from comorbid disorders that make it difficult to tell what's socially acceptable.

Another possibility is someone mentions their full trauma history and talks about their conditions as a test of sorts. They've learned to expect rejection, and want to be upfront about everything so that if they scare someone away, it will be right at the beginning of the relationship.

It's so important to account for different behaviors in different people, and different illnesses and conditions that can influence those behaviors.

WHAT?!

She couldn't handle Lucille, who always got her own way. Lucille is convinced that her mother physically and sexually abused her.

There are many ways to write this that wouldn't involve portraying the mother as a victim of a little girl.

It's stated as an objective fact that Lucille's mother "couldn't handle Lucille," suggesting Lucille was always the problem. Meanwhile, "Lucille is convinced" her mother abused her. It's not even neutral language, like she "reported" or "described" it. She's "convinced."

I'm absolutely appalled.

Also, it feels a little gross for the doctors to describe their patient as "attractive" and with a "seductive presentation." I'm not the only one feeling that, right?

So she essentially did report amnesia. It just sounds like she didn't understand what amnesia was or was in denial, and clinicians should have questioned further.

Surely, if she were trying to manipulate the clinicians, she'd have claimed to amnesia, right? Since amnesia is part of the criteria?

Like with the "borderline" group from before, she had DPDR.

So she recognized similarity in her own experiences with DID systems AND an independent clinician confirmed her DID.

But this is what they're using as evidence against her. That she heard about it first and then identified with it. But that's often how people learn about their disorders. Sure, sometimes it can be wrong. But it shouldn't be treated as evidence against somebody as it is here.

Quick reminder that she started to hurt herself in group treatment.

Why would you suggest she go without therapy? Supposedly it worked out if we trust the clinicians' report. But I'm not so certain I do. I doubt they'd say "we told her to take a hike and then she was worse off than when we left her."

Now, the actual section focused on Lucille isn't the last time we'll hear about her, so let's skip ahead a bit.

This adds a bit more context to the earlier wording of her being "convinced" her mother abused her.

But the implications are a bit more terrifying to me. What was left out of this case study?

Lucille comes in experiencing chronic symptoms of DP/DR. She believes her mother abused her. The clinicians here seem to take the side of the mother in a peculiar way, describing Lucille's mother as "being unable to handle" the little girl.

After leaving therapy and coming back for a follow up, Lucille is saying, uncertainly, that the abuse she endured might not have happened.

Did the clinicians, as authority figures, also try to convince Lucille that her memories of abuse were false?

This feels extremely gaslighty to me.

This is actually a good practice. And is a huge problem I have with the anti-endo ideology is that it often encourages people to look for trauma to confirm systemhood. If you tell someone who is a system they need trauma to be a system, there is a real concern of them trying to fit themselves into that box.

But is the implication that Lucille fabricated her trauma after seeking treatment for DID, and never believed it prior? If so, that feels like an incredibly relevant detail to omit from your case study.

So their opinion, ultimately, is that these cases of "imitated DID" are fabricating trauma memories.

Essentially, this paper is advocating for False Memory Syndrome.

And worse, they admit there's no way to reliably assess suggestibility in these patients, since the authors claim the suggestibility is selective and the scale useless.

It comes down to the individual clinicians with their individual biases to determine who is or isn't an actual trauma survivor.

What is all of this REALLY about?

Now we get to the real point

While other parts of the paper pay lip service to helping patients, a large amount of it is focused on addressing malpractice complaints.

Here is some interesting wording. Shouldn't the interests of the patients be the priority of therapy?

I understand the intent behind this. But the wording presents an adversarial relationship between clinicians and hostile patients where clinicians are meant to act as judges and authority figures, and acting in the interests of the patients is "collusion."

Ideally, even if a patient were faking DID, giving them a more correct diagnosis would still be working in the best interests of the patients, right? At no point should acting in the patient's interest be presented as a bad thing as it is here.

Patients suing therapists over believed-malpractice are presented as seeking "attention and gratification."

I'd agree that it would be interesting to know what groups the suing patients fall into. But there would need to be a better way to make such an assessment.

Because if you're going to have cases like Sandra's, mentioned in the last post, where clinicians are forming biases based on her life history of self-medication with drugs and having an older boyfriend before they even observe her, this method isn't effective.

What would be really interesting to me is, if Sandra or Lucille had gone to another clinic, would the other clinics have judged their DID as being imitated? Or is this solely a result of the biases of these clinicians?

In contrast, would those clinics have judged other patients that this clinic said had "genuine" DID of having imitated DID.

Is there even the slightest bit of credence to this concept? Can it be consistently applied or is this just the opinions of one clinic being treated as gospel?

The goal of the whole paper is pushing False Memory Syndrome in a way that pushes responsibility from clinicians onto patients.

Over 20 years later, and this hypothesis is still groundless. Not just the hypothesis that those responsible for lawsuits are imitated DID cases, but even that second opinions could confirm their own case studies as being imitated DID.

This paper that started the "imitated DID" myth, the paper that led to the controversial McLean video, is based on nothing.

It was motivated not with the goal of helping patients with DID nor helping the patients they accuse of imitating DID, but by the self-interest of clinicians trying to protect themselves from malpractice complaints of patients they treat as hostile and adversarial.

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ihopeitruinsrocknroll · 1 month

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azula’s character is just so fascinating to me— her and katara are essentially two sides of the same coin. both of them are the younger prodigy sister, with two brothers that are considerably less prodigious. they have elements that directly oppose each other, especially since they both learned a dangerous subset of bending from a manipulative authority/familial figure in their life who wanted to benefit from it.

the differences between their characters (other than the obvious) are their upbringings and their personalities that were shaped from them. azula had a very very abusive and dangerous childhood, meaning mainly emotional and mental manipulation (and depending on how u view it, physical too).

she grew up being “perfect”, to the point where she would have rather stabbed someone than be seen as weak to her father. this, and how other people reacted to this (her father encouraged it and her mother was scared of it) shaped her character into the blade it was in the show. her father encouraging her cruelty, the one type of kindness she recieved was definitely not helped when her mother called her a “monster” and chose zuko over her everytime. (seriously, while i understand that she saw ozai in her, she really didn’t have to make it that obvious that she was scared/hated her. it’s not her fault that azula didn’t wake up in the night and thought that her mother only visited zuko before leaving though, that’s just the miscommunication trope) we see her have a mental breakdown, seeing her mother in the mirror when there was no one, sending away loyal staff after being so paranoid it hurt her. ultimately, this leads to her downfall, where she meets her counterpart and her brother.

on the other hand, katara was raised as an equal to sokka, knowing that she was special but never better she didn’t suppress her powers or boast about them, but just saw them as a part of herself and not a weapon. her waterbending at the very start was introduced by sokka saying “weird water stuff” or something similar, and her arguing that it was “waterbending”, something that she was proud of as a part of her culture.

her tribe appreciates her, she’s needed a lot in ways that azula wasn’t. she acts as a mother to a lot of people, and is essentially the “last hope” for the water tribe where azula is the “new hope” for the fire nation’s expansionist beliefs. they both represented completely different things to their people, and this is especially evident in their parents

ozai and ursa either praise or scorn azula for being cruel, liking either her or zuko more, which made azula choose a side early on, whereas hakoda and kya seemed to have loved both sokka and katara equally.

katara grows at such a rate that she rivals the avatar—she beats a master with barely any training, she manages to win against soldiers with far more experience on their belt. this level of growth isn’t just because she was gifted or had a motivation to learn, it was also because she was pushed to be aang’s waterbending master. (pirate scroll episode especially showed her desperation to be better than aang, to not be outstripped by her own student)

even though she was talented and very motivated to win against the fire nation, she shouldn’t have won against a girl who was trained from birth to be the best of the best, a ruthless weapon who took down a city by herself. so basically, the question of the day is why did katara win?

one, her friends. this isn’t to say some friendship is magic bs, because she had friends who taught her. she had an open mind and learned from different cultures, she wasn’t rigid and didn’t stick to just one nation’s discipline. without any formal training other than those weeks with pakku, she had to adapt and make her own style, which allowed for more fast thinking and adaptability.

two, she had a reason to win. while you can certainly argue that azula had a reason to win too, meaning becoming fire lord, azula also thought that her father would definitely win, meaning that it wouldn’t have technically been the end of the world for her to fight against two people that she thought she could win against. (this is kinda handwavey, since azula wasn’t really in her right mind to think that up but humor me) either way, katara had a LOT on her plate that day. her job was to get azula to give zuko the throne, or else the invasion would fail. and when zuko went down? well, any illusion that azula didn’t want to kill her own brother went up in a poof. she basically thought: hmm, well, zuko’s my friend, and azula just nearly killed him. so no holding back or honor agni kai things THAT I SAID NO TO IN THE FIRST PLACE, i need to get back and heal him, so i need to get azula down fast. and she did, whereas azula didn’t have as much of the drive that katara had that day.

three, katara had a stable emotional base. her friends didn’t abandon her or anything, she had a loving family (albeit with an absent dad and dead mom) and while she was under constant stress from the war, she still had friends and people she could talk to. her qi wasn’t as unstable as azula’s, who was basically having a qi deviation (probably didn’t help that ty lee blocked them too) her clear mind helped her think of a way to subdue her, but azula didn’t really think at all. i think honestly azula’s schizophrenia was either realllyyy prominent in the last agni kai, or she had a deviation in her energy (if those exist in the show).

basically, katara is a nicer azula who didn’t grow up traumatised asf and that’s very interesting to me :)

#atla #avatarthelastairbender #characteressay #atlaessay #essay #can u tell i like azula #azula #katara

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gravegrime · 6 months

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Poll Game Lore Results

Alright gang here's the lore for the poll I did yesterday! It's going to be a long one so buckle up lol

I ran the same poll over on twitter too with different results so if you want to know even more lore you can check that out over there too

💕LILIUM💕

Lilium's hyper positivity and caring nature is a direct result of her strange upbringing. As a "child of the kingdom" Lilium was raised under the watchful gaze of the All-Mother. An otherworldly being in her world I call an Abstraction. As well as guided by the hands of the All-Mother's servants, fathers.

A core tenant of the ideology is a strict adherence to simply positivity and an over emphasis on love and care.

Speaking of the All-Mother... She is also responsible for Lilium's lack of any face. Scooped that shit right out of her head when she was born as is tradition for all children in the kingdom.

It doesn't particularily bother Lilium as she's never known a world where she's had a face. To her, the gaping maw in her head is just as good!

There is a level of redundancy when it comes to the concept of friendship within the kingdom. They're all seen as each other's family so having external relationships on top of that is seen as unnecessary.

However, Lilium is particularily close to one individual in her town. Rose from Elsewhere. A kindly older gentleman who took Lilium under his wing when he discovered that she enjoyed writing.

She is appreciative of everything he teaches her, even if she doesn't always understand it right away! The two make a point to visit each other at the end of every work week in a small park to discuss ideas and learn about the lovely world around them.

You did hear that right, Lilium is in fact a writer! on a hobbiest level at least.

Her writings are very rudementary self-insert fables about princesses saving kingdoms and getting helpful advice from old wizards. I think we can cut her a little slack though given she's never really read a novel before. That's just not something they have access to in the kingdom.

Besides, these are very personal stories to her. They help her compartmentalize and understand thoughts and feelings frowned upon by the kingdom. Lilium would have no interest in sharing these stories with others. The very thought would have her "face" flush and her knees weaken for some reason that's hard for her to understand!

Another unfortunate down side of being raised in the kingdom is a deep lack of experience with anything close to lying or deception. To the point that Lilium doesn't even understand them as things anyone can do but only as evil sins commited by individuals with hate in their heart.

This results in her being blatant, almost horrifically, honest. She would tell her killer where to find the knives level of honesty because she simply doesn't understand why anyone would say something untrue.

She would love to figure out why someone might though! That's one thing that seperates Lilium from a lot of the other children of the kingdom, she's very curious.

She sees the world as an infinite source of love and wonder. Absolutely everything has some aspect to it that is lovely and should be nurtured and acknowledged! To find out the lovely parts isn't easy however and requires a keen eye and lots of questions. This driving force of her curiousity leads her to being a very kind, if not a bit frustrating, amatuer slueth looking for the good in the world.

👻CORNY👻

Before taking on the role of Kaspar's apprentice Corny would develop his own methods of dealing with the ghosts and spirits he would encounter.

One being if Corny found a ghost that was capable of communication he have it follow him to an old abandoned residence and stay there until he found out how to help them. Essentially collecting coherent ghosts in one spot to cut down on travel and maybe give them some much needed company.

Ultimately he wanted to help these ghosts but in the meantime maybe they'd at least to find comfort in each other!

Corny is a massive horror fan! He loves himself a good spook be it by show, movie, or game. Going so far as to study some of the stories he feels might be applicable in his own paranormal pursuits. Obviously to varying results lol

Some of his favorites would be akin to Poltergiest, The Shining, Silent Hill, and Fatal Frame!

💀LYNETTE💀

Lynette absolutely hates relying on other people for anything. There is almost nothing more distasteful to her than asking for help. Near the point of rathering to die than even consider calling the ambulance lol

This completely bull-headed approach to aid is a huge flaw of hers and something that's going to be quite harshly punished throughout the story. Lass has a lot of learnin' to do

Exhibit A! Lynette has never summoned a spirit for a contract before. In Grimm Deeds magic is preformed through ritual trades with spirits that bind the witch/wizard and the spirit together in a sense. This exchange grants the witch/wizard power while giving the spirit form. Lynette has never done this!

There is a much more difficult route for a magic user to cast that utilizes the caster's own soul instead of relying on the power of a spirit. This practices is much more difficult and takes A LOT of training to achieve comperable results to normal magic. This is the method Lynette uses instead severly kneecapping her own potential to avoid having to rely on another entity for her own power.

There are also some advantages to using your own soul for magic but I won't detail these here unless you guys have a question about it lol

Most of the time she is completely alone on the Necropolis, outside of her caretaker, but she doesn't count them. Her father, Kaspar, is extremely busy with being... the grimm reaper and everything and is unable to spend much time with her.

This isolation has led to some pretty sever social stunting and having any complex social interaction will often stun her as she tries to navigate it. For this reason Lynette often retreats back into self isolation even more. She hates the loneliness of it but there's a comfort in the familiarity.

If there is a silver lining to her loneliness it's her academic and hobbiest pursuits have florished with nothing else to do on her own. Her magic is an obvious example of this, having a far greater grasp on her abilities than any normal witch/wizard in training would.

Of course having a hyper magical being as a father to teach you a few tricks probably helps too.

But she has other skills as well! Lynette actually has a small passion for music and is able to play a sort of fantasy themed piano/organ as well as a strange looking violin!

She actually writes her own songs as well. They act as a form of journaling her feelings in a more abstract sense, Lynette would die of embarassment if she were to actually log her feelings in a way people would easily be able to understand them, and are often without lyrics.

No lyrics also makes her feel better because she feels she doesn't have a very good singing voice either.

On the academic side of things I don't think I have to mention how much she likes to read. Take a stroll through any artwork with her in it and she probably has her face buried in some form of literature. She loves it so much that her father turned almost TWO full walls into bookshelves for her! It's the one thing she does the most out of anything.

She mostly reads nonfiction as well. Biographies, textbooks, essays you name it she probably has read something similar. Many pertain to magic and the practice of it but a good amount are also about the various worlds in the Cosmos. She respects her father's wishes to not go exploring without him there to keep her safe and therefore lives an explorer's life vicariously through written world.

Unfortunately all this knowledge can't translate to real world experience. All her knowledge of how things work is almost completely theoretical.

She loves her fucking dad so goddamn much. Everything she does is for him. EVERYTHING IS FOR THAT BIG BEAUTIFUL MAN. She just wishes he could be here...

Lynette is very cold and holds herself very strongly but man is she fragile. A huge emphasis on strength and self sufficency acts as a bit of a complex for her to avoid having to deal with the fact that she's scared and that she's hurt.

There are a lot of reasons for this but I'll leave it at that for now >:)

🖤SHADE🖤

Shade has a pretty big family all things considered! A grandmother, two parents, and four other brother's and sisters that he's smack dab in the middle of. He loves them all dearly and makes sure to take breaks from his wanderlust to come back home and visit.

His family are actually quite supportive of his lifestyle, especially given his father's background, and always want to hear the stories of his magical adventures across the Cosmos!

Shade is not a bright boy. You could honestly say he's very much of an idiot, but he's an idiot in what I feel is the most charming way possible.

His head is never empty. Shade's mind is bursting with a million questions and observations. The quality of them is questionable is all! their either an insanely solid observation or the equivalent of a yahoo answers question and there is very little inbetween. He has no idea what a good or bad question is so he just asks them all! Making Shade one of the most interesting people to talk to possible lol

On top of already being very likeable with his laid back and open personality Shade is also insanely charismatic! He is an absolute accidental people pleaser able to make a lemon smile.

Full of worldly charm and experience Shade often wins people over with his adventerous stories, of which he has plenty, and good nature. He's one of those people you'd just want to sit down and listen to, no matter what he's saying.

#poll game #oc #orginal character #lore #character lore #grimm deeds #graveyard grumbles #writeblr #oc lore #this was a lot of fun to do #I'll have to do it again sometime!#Also feel free to ask a question whenever you want #I love answering them :)

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