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sugarylawliet · 3 years

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no good for me (light yagami x reader)

i’m back lol

> warnings: smut, degradation, spit kink, inappropriate use of the death note, VERY toxic relationship, song fic kinda, lyrics are in bold and italics, based off of diet mountain dew by lana del ray

> tag list: @ygm1slt @cradiot28

❛ you’re no good for me, baby you’re no good for me ❜

Nothing on this earth scared you more than the man you were about to see; the pretty boy brunette flaunting good grades and a picturesque family life whose facade of ambitious, respectful young man was a mask almost no one could see through. Some people felt dread at the thought of spiders or snakes, felt fear in their stomach imagining the paranormal, shadow ghosts or criminal stalkers invading their comfort zones. None of these perfectly rational fears scared you the way Light Yagami scared you. There was no fear to be had at the thought of something undesirable creeping its way into your privacy or comfort zone, because Light had manipulated his way into your comfort and trust long ago. He was scarier than a murderer ready to kill at an urge’s call, his blood lust hid in shadows behind his golden boy facade, his words were tools and his touches were negotiations. You couldn’t trust a single thing that came from his mouth, you often questioned your own sanity. Light Yagami had a terrifying grip on you, and it was exactly what he wanted.

Your eyes scan over the text Light had sent you for the millionth time, the words almost ingrained in your head at this point.

Come to my house. We need to talk.

You were sure he kept his words vague on purpose, yet another tactic to keep you at his disposal out of pure fear. You weren’t exactly sure if you loved Light anymore; what was your definition of love at this point? You loved him, yes, but was it out of obligation? Was it survival instinct?

It was true, in the beginning you had loved Light purely and truly. You believed his ambition was justice, to make the world a better and safer place for you. But as time went on, “Kira doesn’t kill innocents” began racking up more and more exceptions, and as the twisted justifications spilled from his mouth, so did the gaslighting. Over and over, his sweet words convinced you to keep coming back. His empty promises were a drug and you were addicted.

His text, you were sure, was a reference to this fizzling out of your love for him. He could sense it, and surely he must have found out you were planning on leaving. You weren’t planning on revealing that he’s Kira- that would cause more commotion you were not interested in being a part of- no, you simply wanted to move states, get away and forget about Light Yagami, forget about Kira and Ryuzaki and Ryuk and everything that has overtaken your life. However, if he did find out your plans to skip town, you may just have to reveal that he’s Kira for safety measures.

❛ you’re no good for me, but baby i want you ❜

Hestiently, you opened the door you had been staring at blankly for what felt like hours. Light had been staying in an upscale hotel during the investigation, so maybe the other tenants could hear you if you screamed for help; the overdramatic thought brought you comfort.

You walk in the room, closing the door behind you. You’re met with the sight of Light’s back as he sits in the rolling chair across the room. In the absence of any words, without even seeing his face, you know he’s mad. Every slight change of Light’s emotions could strangle a whole room by tension alone; his aura manipulated the feeling in the air, which served as a helpful alarm to know when he is upset. And man, is he upset.

You open your mouth to greet him, but he cuts you off, spinning around in his chair to face you, “Don’t talk.” You nod and close your mouth. Why do you even listen to what he says?

“I knew I couldn’t trust you. From the very beginning I knew you would run that pretty little mouth of yours. I know you’re planning on leaving. And then what? Telling the first news outlet you see that I’m Kira?”

“No Light,”

“I said don’t talk.” He stands up from his chair, “If you tell everyone, you’ll also have to tell on yourself. Imagine what everyone would think of you if they knew...You knew I was Kira and you still dated me, you defended me, you kept my secret, you even got on your knees for me. Are you gonna tell that to the media? That you let Kira fuck you?”

You purse your lips, restraining yourself from talking back. You knew it would only make things worse, but you couldn’t stand the way he talked down on you and expected you to take it.

“Come here.” He motioned to his desk and you followed, sitting on his lap per his instruction. He placed the death note open on the desk, handing you the pen. With one hand gripping yours and the other on your hip, he began to guide your hand, the pen spilling out the first letter of your name on the pages.

❛ do you think we’ll be in love forever? ❜

“N-No, Light, you can’t do this, please.” You begged, your heart rate quickening as you realize what he was doing. It can’t end like this, it just can’t.

“Shhh, just write. That’s it, baby. This is what bad girls get, you see?” His death grip tightened on your hand as he spelled out your name, the last letters leering closer and closer before you could register the implications of what he was doing. This was it, this was really it.

Light lets his free hand wander up to your jawline, pulling your face closer to yours and enveloping you in a kiss as he wrote the last letter of your name. You shake your head with a whine, however he disregards your concerns and runs his hand on your upper thigh.

“What’s the matter, Y/n? Don’t wanna spend your last moments with me?~” His nose kisses your neck, and the soft, sensual gestures almost make you forget your life was quite literally slipping away at every second that ticked by. 40 seconds. You had 40 seconds to do something.

You jump off of Light’s lap, reality rushing to your lungs as you felt your world closing in. Your pants become heavier, harsh air ripping through your throat as if they were the last breaths you would ever take because, well- they were.

Your head felt buzzing and dizzy as you fell to your knees, crawling towards Light who had spun around in his chair so his back was facing you; completely apathetic. After all you’ve been through together, after all you’ve done for him, nothing. Nothing at all.

You crawl closer, grasping towards the notebook Light held in his hands, your weakness limiting your reach as anxiety stole your clearness of mind. He only chuckles at your meek attempts to save your own life. Your head was racing as your nervousness blacked out everything in the room except for the little black notebook your boyfriend had a death grip on; ‘I’m running out of time, I’m going to die, I need the death note, I need to cross my name out, I need it I need it I need it I-’

“Goodbye, Y/N. You were fun to play with for a while.” Light kisses your nose with an arrogant smirk, peeling your hands off from his lap and wrists before checking his watch, signaling your last few seconds.

You quit your pitiful attempts to grab the notebook and instead push yourself further and further away from Light until your back hit the wall, lacing your fingers tightly in your hair as you cried your last moments away.

“5, 4, 3 2...” Light spoke.

“No no no no no, please god,” You cried out, squeezing your eyes shut in preparation for the pangs you would soon feel in your chest.

“1...”

And

Nothing.

You breathe. You let the air flood your lungs; it shouldn’t be possible. You dare to open your eyes, revealing the same scene. You, pathetically on the floor with tears down your face, Light before you in his chair with his head thrown back in a maniacal laugh.

He tossed the death note down to you, like a dog being thrown a bone. You frantically grab it and flip to the newest page, your name scratched out with two thick lines.

You were alive- no, he let you live.

❛ hit me my darling tonight, i don’t know why but i like it

“Well?” Light asks expectingly, standing up from his chair and kicking it to the side of the room. You look up at him questioningly, eyebrows furrowed in confusion as tears still brimmed your eyes from the just-curved anxiety attack.

“No ‘thank you’? I spared your life even after you betrayed me- lied to me. You’re so ungrateful.”

“I, I-” You found it difficult to shape your words with your hitching breath. You inhale deeply, eyes closed, calming down, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Light.”

Why were you even apologizing?

“I’m so sorry, please, just take me back. I’m sorry.” The words spilled from your mouth so quickly simply because they felt right. You needed to apologize, you did wrong, you need to be good. You wanted him back more than anything so you can be good.

❛ scary, my god, you’re divine ❜

“That’s right,” Light smiled, his voice softening unnaturally, “Now, how about you come over here and show me just how sorry you are.”

You hesitate for a second before crawling over to him. You sit obediently with your legs beneath your thighs on the floor in front of him.

“Mm, that’s my babygirl.” He pets your head affectionately, coherencing a smile from you. Despite everything he’s done, he always knew how to reel you back in. You needed the approval. You needed his approval.

You look up at him with puppydog eyes, to which he cocks his head to the side. “You know what I want.”

Nodding, you slowly unzipper his khaki pants and pull out his cock. You run your hand up and down, pumping it slowly.

“Don’t be a fucking tease” Light scoffs, raking his fingers through your hair and forcing your mouth down onto him. That sweet, caring demeanor was gone in barley a second- of course it was. What were you expecting? It was a thinly veiled facade and you fell for it everytime without exception.

Light groans, pushing your head further onto him as you try not to gag. You feel the tip of him hit the back of your throat as he thrusts into your mouth faster. “God, Y/N, you take my cock so well. Hah, if only the media could see you now. Poor little Y/N wants to run away from big bad Kira, meanwhile here she is on her knees for him, sucking him off like the dirty slut she is.”

He lets out a deep sigh before pulling out of your mouth. “Be useful for once and get on the bed.” He commands, bringing you to your feet with his strong grip on your hair and pushing you in the direction of the bed. You obey, sitting on the edge of the bed waiting for his next instruction.

Light slinks over to you, standing over your figure as his delicate fingers dance up your inner thigh. He takes off your skirt and slowly rubs your clit through the fabric of your panties.

“Mmm, Light, more...” You buck your hips up to meet his touch, his movements were agonizingly slow and you needed more friction.

“More?” At once he removes his hand from between your legs and grabs your face, your jaw in between the tight hold of his thumb and forefingers. “You want more, huh? You don’t get to make demands of me. You really think i’m gonna give you what you want after that stunt you pulled? Hah, I’m not letting you off that easy.”

You let out a whine, bucking your hips again asking to be touched.

“Aww, poor baby...” Light cooed, “Open up.” You obeyed, opening your mouth before Light brought your face closer to his, spitting in your mouth. “Now swallow.”

You do, earning a smirk from Light. “Mm, good girl. Good girls get rewarded.”

He pulls your panties aside before dipping two slender fingers inside you; wasting no time, he pumps them in and out frantically.

“Oh god Light, fuck,”

“You’re so wet for me Y/N, you like this, don’t you? I knew you would, such a dirty whore. You like when I treat you like this? You like being treated for the slut you are? God, you probably got wet when I almost killed you. It makes me hard, having you under my thumb like this, under my control...”

“Fuck Light, it feels so good, I’m close...”

Quickly, he removes his fingers from you once again, earning a cry from you at the loss of heat. “Please Light, I need you so bad,” You beg.

“What did I say? You’re still not forgiven for that stunt you pulled. Don’t whine.” He wraps his hand around your throat, pushing you down onto your back.

He fully pulls his boxers down, aligning himself with your entrance.

“Beg for it.”

“Please, please light, god, I need it so badly. I want you.”

“Hmm, yeah? You’re so desperate for my cock? I’m not convinced.”

“Please, Light, I’ll never be bad again, I’ll never mess up again. I need your cock so badly, I need you to use me. Do anything you want.”

“Mm, that’s more like it,” Light remarks before pushing into you, earning a loud moan. HIs thrusts were slow, no doubt teasing you.

“Oh, Light, please, faster...”

“More demands? God, you’re such a needy slut. Fine.” His grip on your throat tightens, pushing you further into the bed as he snaps his hips into you without mercy. His pace is relentless, quickly finding your g-spot.

“Fuck, Light. It... it feels- fuck,”

“Hah, stupid slut, what’s wrong? Cat’s got your tongue? Or is it me fucking you so hard you can’t even think straight, can’t form sentences?”

His words only egg on your approaching orgasam, “Hmmph, it- it feels so good. I’m gonna...”

With that, Light pulls you up slightly by your neck before slamming you roughly back into the bed, thrusting into you with speed. “Cum, show me how sorry you are.”

You obey, releasing with a loud moan of his name. He finishes soon after, roughly letting go of your throat. “Clean yourself up. You look like a fucking mess.”

You slip your panties and skirt back on as Light sits apathetically at his desk, his focus buried in paperwork. You heart skinks to your stomach.

Once you finish dressing, Light allows you to leave, informing you of the Kira case work he had to finish and opening the door for you.

“And Y/N,” He catches your attention before you step into the hallway of the hotel, “Let this be a lesson. Don’t ever try to leave me again. You’re mine.” He grabs your jaw and kisses you tenderly- but you weren’t stupid. You knew the motivation behind it, and let you still kissed his soft lips back and let yourself melt into him.

“Goodbye,” He remarks after pulling away, “Behave yourself.”. The door slams in your face.

You can still feel his cum dripping from your heat daring to spill out of your panties. The hallway was empty, allowing reality to rush to you at once. Your senses only seem clear when you were alone- with Light, you didn’t see with your own eyes or hear with your own ears.

You let your back touch the door of Light’s hotel room, slowly sliding down until you were sitting on the carpeted floor. Your life was broken pieces and you cut yourself picking up the glass shards, relishing in the fact that your boyfriend liked the way the blood looked on your pricked fingers.

❛ hurt me and tell me you’re mine, i don’t know why but i like it. ❜

#i did not proof read this lol sorry for mistakes #Light Yagami #light yagami x reader #light yagami x reader smut #light yagami smut #toxic! light yagami #death note #death note smut #anime #death note x reader

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adorerdraco · 4 years

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Healing Heart ✧ Draco x Reader Mini-Series PART 5

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Summary: PART 5 ! of Draco accidentally falling in love with reader during his sixth year (HBP) and figuring out how to survive his new life while finding out a way to keep you in it.

Warnings: angst, mentions of death, torture, blood, death eater stuff - the usual !

Words: 7.8K

A/N: FINDING WAYS TO PROLONG THIS SERIES !!!! 😼 AND SORRY IF THERE ARE ANY MISTAKES ITS VERY LATE AND I NEVER CATCH THEM 😔 but omg my little week long hiatus I took was against my will but i’m back and healthy again and can finally think out sentences again lmao !!! also i DO own gif

Draco stared at the vast, dark marble ceiling as he lied awake. His black silk sheets were strewn across his king bed in a lofty heap from when he had woken up. There was a sheen layer of sweat across his skin, but his room held no warmth and the draft that was coming in from his open windows was nothing less than freezing.

There wasn’t a moment where he had enough peace to sleep, but when he ultimately did; he always regretted ever drifting off when he felt the hot, ravenous feeling that ran through his body when he would jolt awake from a nightmare with his heart thundering against him and the inability to differentiate reality from a subconscious image. He would lie back down, breathing unevenly, and fixate on a random crack in the ceiling and let his now very tortured conscience remind him, “it all happened, you can't escape it!”

And that little malicious voice in his head was right. The horrible images in his mind weren’t made up or conjured by his brain - they were very real and he had lived through them.

He remembered the agonizing decision he had to make when he left the love of his life, jinxed and in hysterics in an abandoned classroom. He remembered his Headmaster, who he had cornered and disarmed who still offered him genuine help and guidance despite the wand pointed in his face. He remembered his once-favorite Professor, kill his Headmaster who he thought for maybe a second would be able to help him. He remembered bounding down the steps of the astronomy tower, wanting to topple over and vomit while he followed closely behind a billowing cape and several sniggering and smug Death Eaters into the halls of the unsuspecting school. He remembered his aunt wreaking havoc on the Great Hall with pure joy as he could only watch in horror while she shattered the windows in her celebration. He remembered walking through a maze of trees in a dazed stupor towards Hagrid’s hut, Bellatrix giggling maniacally beside him as she skipped past him. He remembered seeing Harry run towards them, hurling any hexes and curses he could think of towards Snape while he scurried off. He remembered meeting his mother at the momentarily failing barrier, her hand wrapping tightly around his arm before she apparated them home. He remembered the cold wooden floors underneath him and the way the Manor’s structure seemed to be crashing down onto him as he tried to catch his breath and collect his thoughts.

When he would finish going over every mistake he had made that night, and every choice he could have made instead, he would turn over in his bed and stare out the large window in his room where he could see the cloudy night sky and the nature swinging around in the wind like it was in a constant state of what seemed like an approaching tornado. He would wonder about you, and what you were doing and what you thought of him. He wondered if you meant what you said - if you would truly never forgive him for leaving you there. He wondered if you thought it was him who killed Dumbledore and how you probably saw him as a killer now. He was in ceaseless disarray of wonder, a painful wonder that he couldn’t escape.

He didn’t dare try to owl you, especially with Bellatrix around the house as a very vigilant guard dog that noticed anything and everything. There were barely any opportunities in which he could leave the Manor, not by foot, by broom, or apparate. He was a prisoner in his own home, just as much as he was in his mind. The increasing amount of Death Eaters that came and went every day made him feel more unsettled than ever, all of them giving him intimidating and sneering looks as if he was a joke while they forcefully turned the Manor into their place of 'work'.

The day Lucius was released from Azkaban, Draco felt a slight hope that things would improve, that his father could somehow find a way to fix things for them as he always had and the young boy could finally step down from the responsibility he felt for his family. But what he saw in the foyer of his home wasn’t Lucius Malfoy; influential, formidable and feared by many - he saw a shell of a man who had lost all sense of who he was and had paid greatly for his failures. He recalled how his father had embraced him in a weak and shuddering hug, clinging onto him as a spew of desperate words incessantly flew from his mouth without making much sense.

He knew immediately then that his father couldn’t swoop in and fix all his problems, and his mother couldn’t be left alone in all this. He was stuck, whether he liked it or not, and he had to follow through on anything and everything the Dark Lord expected from him or wanted out of his family.

He hated the way his home was defiled with death and wickedness. He hated the way there were lifeless bodies littered around the living room sometimes. He hated the echoing cries and pleas of those who were locked up in the dungeon below. He hated seeing Voldermort use his home as his headquarters, pacing the room in a self-given majesty and humiliating his father every chance he could get. The only reason the Malfoys weren’t killed off yet was, in Draco’s opinion, to be used as an example of what happens when you fail the Dark Lord, to be used as malicious entertainment, and to see just how far someone could be tortured from the inside. Draco did mend the cabinet, but he didn’t kill Dumbledore or die trying as his master had desired. He was always visibly apprehensive of everything he had to do and every order he was given. He wasn’t willingly cruel or vile and hated the idea of actually hurting anyone. His father had failed every mission he was given, and his mother wasn’t a Death Eater, to begin with. They were just there, as pawns and as sadistic pleasure.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

It was subsequently, a rare day that the Manor was empty. No one was walking through the halls or running their mucky shoes on the expensive upholstery of the furniture as they relaxed into it. Even his father was out, along with Bellatrix, which left only him and his mother at home.

Narcissa Malfoy was just as arrogant as her husband, valued the pro-pure-blood ideals she grew up with, and always appeared to be very cold and haughty. Yet there was one thing that she valued above most; her family. She was entirely devoted to her son and husband and loved them profoundly. It was for Draco she worried for the most and would do anything for. It was for Draco she would risk everything for and go against the Dark Lord for.

So on the night she brought her son back home, and he was breaking down in her arms with cries about a girl she had never heard of - it piqued her curiosity more than she wanted to admit. She had asked Draco who you were a handful of times since that night, but he always refused to answer. She even went as far as asking Snape, pulling him aside one night behind a dark pillar in her home as everyone was leaving and whispered secretly to him.

“Severus, I know I’ve asked too much of you already but I need to know this,” she rushed to say in a very hushed and imperceptible tone but she knew he had heard her. He raised an eyebrow, looking at her quizzically.

“What might that be?”

“On the night Draco came home, he was calling out for someone,” she began, “do you know if he was involved with anyone by the name of Y/N?”

She could have sworn she saw a twinge of muscles move in his cheek, but he only shook his head shortly from side to side.

“I apologize, Narcissa, but I know no student by that name,” he sighed. “Draco spent most of his time mending the vanishing cabinet, I doubt he had time to be venturing out in his love life.”

She wanted to believe him. But she couldn’t brush off the intuition that was beating against her gut, nearly screaming at her that she was being lied to and there was more to the story. It’s not like she wanted the information to hurt you or to judge, she simply wanted to know who had broken through to her son during the year he was the most closed off. Who had impacted him so greatly, that now that it was seemingly over left him in shambles and withdrawn almost completely. If anything, she wanted to help. And if there was a possibility where she could, she would help Draco take it if it meant it would make his life easier. There was nothing more she wanted for him, free of pain and filled with hope, and if a certain individual would help her get him there - she would be willing to see it through.

With the opportunity of everyone gone, Narcissa trailed up to Draco’s room, letting her knuckles fall softly against the wooden double doors three times.

“Draco, dear, would you like to join me on a walk?”

She heard a shuffling from behind the door and a sharp sniffle, taking in a deep breath to prepare herself to see his poorly hidden tears that she knew she would be met with.

As she predicted, the doors opened and the blond stepped out of his room, lowering his red-rimmed eyes to the ground so he wouldn’t have to meet her worried gaze. He looked well-groomed as always, but she took notice that his skin seemed gray and dull. His eye bags were deep and nearly black from all his crying and lack of sleep. When she linked her arm through his, she felt the slight weight he had unwillingly lost in the past month that he’s been home. Her mind was spinning with concern, promising herself there that she was ready to do whatever she could for him, anything she could.

She led them out of their cold and darkened home, stepping out into the gardens that sat behind the Manor in a large vastness of gorgeous flower arrangements of whites, greens, and reds. There was a large marble fountain placed in the middle of the garden, spewing water smoothly from a small bowl that spilled into a larger one beneath it. It was boxed in with stone and surrounded with red amaryllis flowers, giving anyone enough space to sit around it without being splattered by droplets of water.

It was a gloomy day, but a warm afternoon sun had peaked through the clouds and cast a glowy light around the house that she hadn’t seen in ages. It made her feel hopeful as she walked her and Draco through the garden, thinking of ways on how to approach him. She knew he had shot her down and changed the subject every time she brought up your name, even if it was in privacy, and she pleaded to the stars that this would ultimately be the chance she would get to find out.

When they reached the fountain, she sat them down and watched as Draco slouched, silent and staring distantly at his shoes.

“Dear, I know you hate for me to bring this up,” she started slowly, shaking her head as she spoke, “but I want to know who she is. I want to be able to help you, and maybe even her. I know you’re in love, I see it in your eyes and I see it now that you’re apart. I know everything else certainly applies to how you’re feeling, but there’s a look for heartbreak, and you have it.”

Draco looked up at her, finally peering into her worried eyes as he contemplated what she said and what she offered. The last time he told someone about you, he was reprimanded and denied any sort of help, only suggestions for abandonment were given. He wanted to tell his mother all about you, but he wished it was under happier circumstances, however.

He wished it would be him coming home during the summer, no Voldermort or Death Eaters in his life or his family’s, and arriving with you by his side after sending an owl to his parents about the new love in his life he wanted them to meet. He would boast about you and your smarts, care, ambitions, and beauty. He would make sure his parents understood just how important you were to him and just how amazing you truly were. He imagined their inevitable surrender and allowing him to invite you on one of their luxurious trips to somewhere beautiful and expensive. He pictured a yacht ride in Italy, your skin glowing and your smile bright as you gazed at him in delight under a warm summer sun. Or a grandeur trip to France, walking around the Parisian streets with you as he spoiled you with gifts and delicious gourmet food while ending the night under the Eiffel Tower. He wanted to see you leave on shopping trips with his mother, the two of you coming back with heavy bags and new memories while his mother would walk by him and secretly whisper, “I love her!” to him. He wanted to flaunt you, and boast and gloat all about you - but the circumstances now were dreadful, and to talk about how he had failed you made him want to cry all over again.

His mother waited patiently for his reply, clasping her hands together in her lap as he stayed quiet while he decided. He was so used to sulking and torturing himself on his own in the past month, that seeing a genuine look of concern and desire to help pushed him into making his final resolve.

“I met her around the beginning of last year,” he breathed out finally, “her name is Y/N Y/L/N, we had a Potions class together but I met her in one of the corridors where we accidentally bumped into each other. I sprained a finger trying to catch myself and she healed it without a second thought. She wants to be a Healer at St. Mungo’s after Hogwarts, and she’s very skilled with her wand. She’s one of the smartest people I’ve ever met and the kindest. She always listened to me, and helped me, and encouraged me. She always reassured me when I needed it, and if it weren’t for her I don’t think I would have mended the cabinet or even had the energy to wake up every day. She stayed with me even when I told her the truth about everything. I’ve never met anyone who makes me feel the way she does, I can’t explain it, she makes me feel-”

“Alive?” His mother softly finished for him. “She makes you feel alive.”

“Yes,” he nods fervently, “I love her and I failed her. I don’t think there’s anything I can do now and neither can you.”

“I beg to differ,” she briskly interjects. “It’s never too late for anything, Draco. There’s always an opportunity to make things right, as long as you try. She at least deserves an explanation and an apology, and it will be up to her to decide what she wants to do. She sounds wonderful, and I’m glad you met someone who brings out your best.”

Draco agreed wordlessly, his tears sitting at the brink of his eyelids begging to be released as he mulled over everything that was said. He knew where you lived, having learned the fact somewhere in your relationship when you were talking about your childhood and where you were from. He knew the place you called home and the address that came with it that you constantly reminded him of in hopeful jokes that he would visit you over the summer.

“There’s no one here, no one would know you’re gone,” Narcissa encourages swiftly as if she knew what he was thinking about. “It’ll be a few hours before anyone returns. Go to her.”

“But if I become involved with her again, he’ll find out, won’t he?” He insinuates in distress. “The reason I left her was to keep her safe from him, I don’t want her anywhere near this.”

“He won’t find out,” she promised, “I’ll make sure of it. Go.”

There was a hopeful and elating sensation that ran through his veins as he stood up, turning back to look at his mother as she nodded at him optimistically. He suddenly lunged towards her, giving her a tight hug and muttering thank you’s to her like a broken record before running out of the garden towards the front gate of the Manor.

As soon as he reached his exit, he used his newfound Death Eater ability to half-apparate himself into a thick black cloud of smoke that allowed him to fly over to where you were - not giving a care in the world if he were seen by muggles as he recklessly took every shortcut he knew towards your hometown.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

There was a slight breeze in the cloudy air that brought you comfort. It was cold, but refreshing - a sharp contrast against the burning feeling that never seemed to leave your body. You were back home now, in your small little town in England that held little to no wizards.

You spent a lot of your time wandering around the local stores and cafes nearby, mingling with strangers as you told them fake life stories for fun. There was also the small forest behind your house you regularly enjoyed, and all the small hidden creatures that you encountered along the way. You always brought along your family cat, the chunky orange tabby always finding his way for you outside of the forest when you got too far in, or if he sensed there was nearby danger and would warn you. Sometimes you would talk to him, complain to him about everything that was bothering you and he would respond to you now and then with broken meows and chirps that made you feel like he understood, even though he didn’t. It made you feel less alone.

Of course, you had your family that worried over your changed behaviors. They weren’t oblivious. They noticed the puffy eyes, the sniffles, and the quiet sobs that escaped under the space of your bedroom door when they would pass by in the middle of the night to get a glass of water from the kitchen. They noticed your sudden quietness, and your lack of interest in everything and hardly found you in the house. You were always out and about, trying to find anything and anyone to distract yourself from what was going on in your mind.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to talk to your family, even though they had incessantly offered their support, you just knew they wouldn’t understand. They would want to know about Draco, his family, and their beliefs. They would eventually figure out of his involvement with the Dark Lord and the looming second Wizarding war. They wouldn’t approve, and you didn’t want to hear the scolding you would get for ever giving him the time of day. You were bitter enough as it was, and the last thing you wanted to hear was how bad Draco was and how you were better off without him.

But even if you were supposed to be better off without him, a life where he wasn’t in it didn’t feel good at all. It felt empty and lost. You were used to his presence always being around you and how he was always a few minutes away from you. He was always available to you for anything and willingly; for company, affection, comfort, reassurance, love, everything. You hated the fact that you let yourself get attached, especially when you knew deep down the direction the relationship was going in.

There were days when you would wake up okay. Days where your mind blocked out your feelings entirely, including Draco and all the memories that came with him. There were days when you felt like you had finally forced yourself to move on, but always finding it to wear off when you’d clamber into bed at night and your brain started illustrating everything you didn’t want to remember. The silver band bracelet he had gifted you was in constant movement from your wrist and jewelry box, hidden on the days you wanted to forget him or sitting pretty on your skin on the days you missed him the most. As much as it hurt to think about him and remember him, you couldn’t stop the way your whole being drifted towards him.

You were currently stepping over a big fallen tree trunk covered in thick green moss, your cat following closely by your leg as he pranced and jumped over all his obstacles. You walked mindlessly around the greenery, not taking notice in the shape of the leaves of the fern you were placing your hand upon to move out of your way. It wasn’t until you felt the sharpened ends of the leaves dig deep into your skin that made you recoil your hand back in pain, a slight hiss leaving your mouth as a small gash began to form with blood flowing quickly upwards out of the new cut. Your hand was held in the air as you frantically looked around for anything that would stop the bleeding that was now dripping sleekly down your arm.

“Stupid ministry and underage magic,” you mutter under your breath. Your wand was in your pocket, begging to be used, but the idea of being sent a letter from the ministry that was now under the Voldermort's control quickly dispersed any desire you had to use it. “Come on, kitty. Let’s go back home, please.”

'Home' was a word the cat did understand. He bumped your leg with his head before meowing loudly at you as he began trotting off to your right side towards the exit of the forest. He moved stealthily, dodging in and out of everything that was in his path as you attempted to follow in his cleared steps. Every time you would trip or rest briefly, he would stop ahead of you and wait until you would walk towards him again before he started back on the journey.

When you finally saw your house in the distance, you sighed in relief at the thought of your first aid kit waiting patiently for you in the bathroom cupboard. And belatedly, your feet hit the stone path that led home, skipping slightly with your hand in the air before nearly toppling over your cat as he stopped abruptly in your path. You moved out of the way, last minute, and very clumsily before eyeing him suspiciously.

He was looking up at the sky, his ears pulled back and the fur on his back straightening up as his eyes frantically searched around the clouds above him. He wasn’t hissing like he normally did when he felt something dangerous coming, he looked more confused and alert than anything. You searched the sky with him for a minute before concluding he was being too wary so you bent down and pick him up with your uninjured hand, nearly scooping him into your arms until he carefully swiped at your arm.

“You’re being dramatic, there’s nothing there,” you exclaim at him irritably. You were stumped, on one hand, literally, you were still bleeding though it had significantly slowed down and was now just coagulated blood, and on the other hand, you couldn’t leave the cat outside because of the number of dead critters he left in his past outdoor ventures around the yard and his sometimes week-long disappearances that left everyone in the house worried.

In just a few seconds of your thinking, he had sprung forward and rushed towards the large open field that was a few feet away from your house. Although it was summer, it had been rainy and allowed the grassy field to flourish in tall and wild greenery. This did not help as you watched the fluff of orange disappear into the small jungle that lied ahead and you began to sprint after him, spotting his bushy tail in your vision every time he jumped over something. If you could use magic, this little ordeal would have gone much more different - but you couldn’t.

You chased him until the very near end of the field, spotting him sitting calmly as he looked back at you as if he was expecting you. Rolling your eyes, you reached towards him again to pick him up, if he wanted to go back to the house scratching and biting then so be it. You trained your gaze on him, trying your best to grab him as carefully and as slyly as you could. But as soon as your hand landed on the silky fur of his back, you heard a soft whooshing sound a few feet away in front of you and a very audible shuffle of dead grass crunching underneath someone's shoes as they moved slowly.

You didn’t look up, all of a sudden feeling scared at who could have magically appeared in front of you, and instead, you waited for your cat to hiss and attack, but he sat himself down in a loaf as if he were in the most comfortable place in existence. This is when you looked up, and the sight before you was like an invisible force that knocked you onto your bottom as you jumped back in surprise.

“What are you doing here?”

What was supposed to sound like a concerned question, came out a little ruder than you had intended, almost seething at the boy that was fearfully staring down at you.

“I’m sorry,” Draco ran his hands over his pallid face in distress, “I shouldn’t have come.”

There was an awkwardness that hung in the air. The two of you were finally where you had wanted to be, together, but now that you were face-to-face it couldn’t have been more perplexing. He didn’t know how to begin, and you weren’t sure if you should even listen to him. It was like a weird staring competition, he was taking in everything about you as you were doing the same to him. It was obvious you were both a wreck, and the damage was apparent on him the most as he was dealing with his Death Eater status now more than ever.

“Your hand is bleeding,” he stated suddenly. You didn’t have time to answer before he had cautiously walked over to you and sat down beside you in a flattened patch of grass. “Let me see it.”

Like magnets, your hand instantly fell into his cold grasp without you thinking about it. You eyed him carefully and quietly, observing him as he turned your injured hand over in his and inspected your gash like you had done many times in the past for him. You didn’t stop him when he took his wand out of his pocket and waved it over your wound, murmuring a familiar spell that closed the cut with ease, a small pink scar left in its place.

“I didn’t know you knew how to do that,” you say lightly. “Thank you.”

“I learned from the best,” he smiles faintly.

Neither of you moved from your sitting spots, and neither of you said anything. He would meet your eyes now and then and search them with such a pained expression that it took everything in you not to just throw yourself into his arms and cry in relief that he was there.

“I know it was Snape who killed Dumbledore and not you,” you break the silence apprehensively. “Harry told me.”

“Potter told you?” He grimaced, but he let out a breath of relief. “I would’ve thought the git would have loved to throw me under the bus. I didn’t even know he was there, then I see him chasing us down-”

“Draco, why are you here?” You asked him again, gingerly this time and cutting him off from his rambling in hopes that he would just cut to the chase on his unannounced appearance. He sighed, looking down at his now muddy, once expensive dress shoes.

“I needed to see you,” he answers honestly. “And I wanted to apologize for how I left things.”

You peered up at him with a raised eyebrow, bringing your knees up to your chest so you could rest your head against them as you faced him. “Let’s hear it.”

“I’m serious,” he frowned. “I’m sorry I used my wand against you. I’m sorry I shut you out. I’m sorry I left without giving you much of an explanation. I’m sorry I abandoned you and disappeared off the face of the Earth. I’m sorry I broke my promise that I would never leave you again.”

“Draco-”

“No, wait, I need you to understand that I thought leaving you was the only thing that would keep you safe. I would have never forgiven myself if I let you die for trying to help me, even if you say you’re ready to accept whatever fate is in store for you, I’m not. But I don’t want to run anymore, I don’t want to be away from you, I can’t do it and I always think I can let you go for your safety, but I can’t.”

There was a brief period of stillness as you contemplated his apology. Your head moved to fall in between your knees as your hands began to fiddle with the long strands of grass beneath you. You were stripping it and pulling at it, hoping that there would be a hidden message underneath the earth that would give you an answer on what to say or what to do, but it wasn’t possible. The only thing you found was the loose pitiful tears slipping down your face that seeped into spots of dry soil. Draco stayed wordless beside you, the only sound coming from him was uneven breaths as he stressed over your reaction.

You were caught in between wanting to give in, wanting to forgive him, and hug him and kiss him to make up for all the tortuous time lost, but there was also a part of you that was now afraid to trust. You wanted to, so badly, but everything felt so unpredictable. You weren’t sure whether you could handle him leaving again if he had to. And if he were to die at the end of all of this? There was no way you’d be able to recover from a loss like that. He was on an unforeseeable path that held no clear outcome.

“I’m scared, Dray,” you sniffle, closing your eyes tightly as you began to answer him. “We’re not kids anymore fooling around at school. Everything is getting more real by the day. How am I supposed to be comfortable with the idea that you might-”

You stopped yourself from finishing, a soft sob escaping your throat at the near mention of his possible death. You felt him scoot closer to you, stopping about a few inches away from your shuddering body as he placed a reassuring hand on your lower back.

“You say you can’t accept the decision I made when I said I’m ready for whatever fate lies ahead of me,” you mumble miserably. “Well, I can’t accept yours either.”

“I won’t make any more promises I can’t keep,” he starts warily, “but I can promise you that as long as I’m around, I won’t let anyone hurt you, ever. And as far as my future goes, I promise that I’ll do everything and anything I can to survive this.”

You had unhooked your arms from around your legs, bringing them underneath you as you sat yourself up to face him better. He was staring at you intently, hopeful gray eyes boring into yours with every emotion under the sun flashing through them. He didn’t show it, but he felt like at any moment he was going to faint. He had never seen such uncertainty on your face and it killed him, but he tried to remain stoic as he spoke and kept a brave face at every concern you had. He couldn’t guarantee you anything that lied ahead, but there was also nothing he wouldn’t do for you now.

“Okay,” you agree, finally giving him the consolation he had been woefully praying for. “I believe you, we can get through this together.”

There wasn’t another second spared before you speedily moved out of your sitting position to pounce him with a tight and suffocating hug. It was desperate and smothering, his arms wrapped tightly around your lower back as he pressed you deeply into his body as if you were going to disappear any second.

You didn’t care that you could barely breathe against his chest or that your knee was digging into the mud below you. It was the most relieving feeling in the world, finally being in his arms again with new hopes and possibilities that always found a way to present themselves. It was one of the many reasons that you knew he was the one for you. Everything with him felt easy, even if the world was crashing down around you. He could melt away all your pain and worries with one look, touch, or words. He felt like home and heaven all in one.

It came to you in the middle of your longing hug, that there was always going to be something looming over the two of you in the current state that the wizarding world was in. There’s no point in wasting time when everything could change overnight, just as it had that unforsaken day at Hogwarts before you were dragged home the next day. There was no reason for trying to stay away from him when it was everything you wanted and you knew then that you needed to take advantage of whatever time you had left with him.

“I'm sorry for saying I would never forgive you that night,” you murmur into the crook of his neck. “And for being stubborn.”

“You had all the right to be angry with me,” he laments.

“But it didn’t make it okay,” you nuzzle yourself deeper in his embrace, frowning to yourself as you recalled the night.

He looked down at you, a pang of guilt hitting him when he saw the corners of your lips pulled down in sadness. He leaned down and carefully placed a kiss on your temple, lingering for a bit before moving away and muttering, “nothing about that night was okay.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

There wasn’t an inkling of an idea how long the two of you were sat outside, holding on tightly to each other as you filled each other in on any news that happened in the last month since you’ve seen each other. The only indication that let the two of you know that time had surely passed was that the sun had begun setting behind the valley in the distance. The moon now had a faint appearance in the purplish evening sky that was for the first time in a while, free of the heavy cloud covers.

You listened attentively as he told you about the Manor and how it was being used as a Death Eater meeting place. He told you about his father being released from Azkaban as a treat for the Malfoy’s since he had fixed the cabinet and disarmed Dumbledore for Snape to finish, unknowing to him that he would. He explained to you how ghostly he felt when he was venturing out of the school that night. He even scarcely described the horror that had gone on in the dead of night, when victims had been brought back to the house for ‘interrogations’ and the way their screams would keep him wide awake for days.

You nearly felt sick to your stomach the longer he went on, empathizing with him delicately when he would sometimes stop talking to take a deep painful shaky breath. The guilt that was eating away at him wasn’t hidden or pushed down, he expressed it very obviously and you couldn’t picture how he managed to hold a straight face in the sea of terrors he had encountered.

“You’re nothing like them,” you whispered tenderly to him when you saw the distant broken look that clouded his eyes. “You are good, Draco. Not once have I ever changed my mind about that.”

He was slipping, far and fast into the depths of his despair. His new life away from school was eating away at him now that he was forced to experience it upfront. He wasn’t cut out for it, nor did he want anything to do with it. It physically pained you that there was nothing you could do except offer him what you’ve always been able to provide; a listening ear and to remind him that he’s not the evil monster he deludes himself to be.

“I don’t want to talk about me anymore,” he mumbled gloomily, taking your hand into his as he turned to look at you. “I want to hear about you and your summer.”

“It wasn’t pleasant or anything, honestly,” you shrug, “I spent most of it in the village nearby and the forest behind my house with my cat, who by the way knew you were coming somehow.”

You both suddenly turned to look for the orange tabby who had seemingly disappeared without either of you noticing sometime throughout the evening.

“Where is the little critter so I can thank him for leading you to me,” he chuckled softly as you rolled your eyes.

“He’s probably back at home now but I’ll pass the message,” you bite back a smirk.

Draco felt the familiar fluttering of pixies in his stomach as he looked at you, a sense of exhilaration and delight shocking his body from its usual anguished state. He was so far gone in you and he never wanted to leave the feelings you left him with and with such little effort. He couldn’t count how many times he had the same thought in his head when he was around you, much like your own, he knew with you was where he was at his calmest and his happiest. It was like a chunk of agony being released from him that made him feel like he could breathe again without feeling like he was going to drown. Even if it was just for a few hours, he was always grateful for moments he shared with you and the comfort you brought him.

“I love you,” he said dazed, eyes locking onto yours intimately. “I hope you know that.”

"I love you,” you repeated, a coy smile making its way onto your features.

“You know,” his thumb began mindlessly running over your knuckles as he spoke, “if it wasn’t for my mother knocking some sense into me earlier, I wouldn’t have had the great idea to show up here.”

He looked over at you when he felt you tense up completely, slightly worried at first before a small amusement quickly replaced his fear when he noticed you were gaping at him with wide wondrous eyes.

“You told her about me?”

“All about you,” he nods, “I accidentally let your name slip a while back and she’s been asking me about you ever since. I didn’t want to say anything in case someone heard, but everyone was gone today and she got it out of me.”

“What did she say about me?” You asked him timidly as if it was the most important thing in the world for you.

He chortled quietly at your nervousness, “she said she thinks you’re wonderful and she’s glad we met. She pushed me to come and make things right with you and she offered to look out for us.”

There was an intense delight that beat against your chest at his answer. The only other person in his life who’s opinion he valued the most above all had made one about you, and it was one that was better than anything you could have ever hoped for. Narcissa Malfoy had vouched for you before she’s even properly met you and it left you feeling astounded and beyond appreciative.

“When you get home, please send her my regards,” you plead heartily, your hands clutching onto the lapels of his suit jacket as he laughed lightly.

“I will, I will,” he smiles, “I have to be home soon, so she’ll hear about it within the next half hour.”

Draco pulled you up with him as he stood up, both of you finally stretching out your limbs with groans and sighs of relief from the tension of sitting for so long.

As you peered up at him, you let your hands slide up into the platinum blond strands that looked brighter than ever under the now bright moonlight. He placed a hand over one of your wrists, a smile growing on his face as he noticed the silver band sitting warmly against your skin. He leaned forward to press his forehead against yours, letting himself stay there for a minute as he tried to revel in the last few moments of peace he was going to try and prolong for the rest of his night.

“I’ll be back soon,” he cupped your cheek with one hand, his thumb grazed delicately over your cheekbone as you leaned into his touch. “Right back with you.”

“I’ll be waiting, Malfoy,” you grin.

For the first time that night, he ducked down and pressed his lips soft against yours. The gentleness quickly dissipated into longing and fervor as he kissed you like it was the last thing he was ever going to do, seeking the closeness and union he missed so desperately. Neither of you made any move to pull apart as you melted into each other, basking completely in the feeling of being so close to one another like this again.

If it wasn’t for you worrying about his timely arrival back home before everyone, you would have allowed him to keep you like that forever. But much to your dismay, you tapped him lightly against his chest that let him know it was really time for him to leave if he wanted to keep his secret trip, secret.

You stood there sadly, watching him as he unwillingly backed away from you and whispered one more goodbye to you before he disappeared into the sky in a ghost of black smoke, the aroma of his cologne still lingering in the air and a swollen feeling against your lips that left you feeling fuzzy.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

The Malfoy Manor was staring eerily back at Draco when he finally arrived back in front of the main gate of the home. It was deathly quiet and dark, only a small light could be seen from the living room as he approached further into the property.

He swiftly ran up the steps, hand falling carefully onto the brass doorknob of the front entrance, stopping in his tracks completely when he heard a mixture of hushed angry voices.

“I told you, Bella,” he heard his mother exclaim fiercely. “He only went out to clear his head.”

“Clear his head of what?” his aunt sneered. “He’s falling weak, Cissy. He should be running around in joy that the Dark Lord has him in his inner circle.”

“My son is not weak, don’t you think this can all be a little overwhelming for someone who hasn’t even finished his schooling?” His mother defended him and he could picture the exact sneer on her face as she spoke.

“I want to know where he went,” Bellatrix says hotly, “he’s been gone too long.”

Draco ran through a list of excuses in his head, swallowing back the lump in his throat when he decided on one and put on a straight face as he turned the doorknob, cautiously stepping into the dimly lit living room where both his parents and aunt were waiting for him.

“Ah, there he is,” his father announced as he was the first one to see the boy clambering inside.

“I’m sorry I went off for so long,” Draco spoke up before anyone could ask. “I remember someone mentioning they had spotted Potter around a village nearby so I tried to go look for him.”

“Did you?” Bellatrix chastised. “And nothing?”

“Nothing,” he shrugged with a feigned annoyance.

“And you were alone?” She added with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes, all by myself.”

Narcissa gave her sister a pointed look as she walked up to Draco, hand gripping tightly onto his arm before leading him away from the surprise interrogation and towards the foot of the stairs where she stopped him hastily.

“How did it go?” She asked almost inaudibly.

“Y/N sends her regards,” he whispered, “thank you.”

He gave his mother a warm hug good night before he hurriedly bounded up the stairs, looking down towards the living room once more where Bellatrix was eyeing him carefully. He decided on giving her a curt nod before vanishing into his bedroom and letting himself fall against the shut double doors, a large exhale of relief slipping past his lips as he was now safe to freely recall the night with a dazed smile he didn’t want to let go of.

PART 6

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APOLOGIES IF I FORGOT ANYONEEE 🥺 BUT I REALLY HOPE EVERYONE ENJOYED THIS CHAPTER EVEN THO IT WASNT TOOO EVENTFUL ❤️❤️❤️❤️ I GOT ACTION FOR THE NEXT PIECES THO JUST WAITTTT

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n1kolaiz · 3 years

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"Man fears death and yet, at the same time, man is drawn to death. Death is endlessly consumed by men in cities and in literature. It is a singular event in one's life that none may reverse. That is what I desire."

Character Analysis: Dazai Osamu

Age: 22 || Ability: No Longer Human

I've done a lot of research concerning Dazai's character because of how complex he'd initially appeared to me. It is still a question as to what his personality type is; some say he's an ENTP while others argue that he's an INTJ, and his enneagram would most likely be 7w8 (The Realist), but that isn't the thing I'm going to focus on.

According to general databases and fan analyses, his temperament is dominantly melancholic. A person's temperament is basically how they react to and live in this world. For those of you not interested in such details, don't worry, I'll get to my point.

The melancholic behaviour is characterised by individualism, self-reliance, and reservation. People of the melancholic temperament are described as having been overcome with sorrow and depressive thoughts, which is beyond the feeling of "just being sad."

Nonetheless, they are generally calm beings, with a tendency to hide how they truly feel by keeping their composure, even in events that demand severe reaction otherwise. Other aspects of melancholic temperaments is that they are absorbed in the cruelty and tragedy of this world, and tend to get lost in their thoughts.

Sound familiar?

Dazai is seen to be as the comic relief of the adaptation, and he'd never fail to bring about a sense of lightheartedness to relieve the serious moments; we all know that for sure. Remember the time both him and Kunikida found Nobuko Sasaki in that godforsaken hospital, and how Kunikida asked him about his opinion on the current state of affairs?

But, despite having developed a calm and serene personality, Dazai's dark side was more apparent during the Dark Era. There was a type of intimidating and arrogant flair evident in his behaviour, or even on his face. It was the type of demeanour that came off cold and terrifying to the rather unlucky people he dealt with. In a moment's notice, they could literally die by his hands. And I believe most of them usually did. It was during this time, he was more brutal and vicious. He lacked remorse. Plus, Dazai's suicidal ideations were more dense during this Era, and his suicidal tendencies did not do anything to alleviate the depth of how dark his character was posed to be.

Side note: Unfortunately, people misunderstand this 'depressed' part of Dazai; they minimise his character so much to the point that people use only a single word to describe him: suicidal. He is, in fact, so much more than that. I'll elaborate more on that in a while.

"Hey, Odasaku, do you know why I joined the Mafia? I joined the Mafia because of an expectation I had. I thought if I was close to death and violence—close to people giving in to their urges and desires, then I would be able to see the inner nature of humankind up close. I thought if I did that… I would be able to find something—a reason to live."

Dazai's approach to life is that of an aimless soul, weary of the world's oppressions and exhausted from the concept of living itself. Nevertheless, what he said above about having an expectation made me realise something: he had a goal, which he wasn't that enthusiastic about achieving—seeking for a reason to carry on with life. So he joined the Mafia.

And there, he met Oda Sakunosuke.

Despite how resilient Dazai carried himself to be (especially during the Dark Era), this specific excerpt stands in direct opposition of how he effortlessly embodied all things daunting:

"With every step I take, I feel as though the earth has opened up into a bottomless pit as I fall endlessly. As Dazai pointed to his forehead and approached the muzzle, the look on his face – like that of a child about to burst into tears – had already been branded upon my eyes."

- quoted by Oda Sakunosuke, excerpt from Dazai Osamu and the Dark Era Light Novel.

When I read this, it sent my mind into a spiral of despair and confusion. It was so vague, yet it made so much sense. Dazai was desperate to escape from this life, but part of him seemed to live in conflict with his desire for death. I won't elaborate more on this, because this specific excerpt has personal meaning to me, as I'd expect it to have for others as well; so I wouldn't want to ruin anyone else's perception on it.

Back to my point: Odasaku was one of the only characters who managed to interpret the complexity of Dazai's mindset and was able to compartmentalise the specific details of his persona that made Dazai the way he was. Oda knew that Dazai wasn't just suicidal.

"For most things in life, it's harder to succeed than fail. Wouldn't you agree? That's why I should attempt suicide rather than commit it! Committing suicide is difficult, but it should be relatively easier to fail at attempting suicide!"

Others boasted about how he was just a suicidal maniac, and that was only because of how good Dazai was at concealing his own feelings whilst flamboyantly priding himself in new, risky techniques, which he sometimes elaborated on. But Oda, on the other hand, saw through his jokes, and empathised with his friend, never wanting to ever barge into his vulnerability without Dazai's permission, but still trying to be there for him.

"Listen. You told me if you put yourself in a world of violence and bloodshed, you might be ale to find a reson to live. You won't find it. You should know that. Whether you're on the side that takes lives or the side that saves them, nothing beyond your own expectations will happen. Nothing in this world can fill the hole that is your loneliness. You will wander the darkness for eternity."

Notice how Odasaku recognised Dazai's despair, before Dazai even dared to acknowledge his very own emotions? That was why, at Oda's death, he took the initiative to uncover Dazai's bandaged eye to show him that there was no use in concealing his feelings anymore.

Odasaku's last words to Dazai was to "be on the side that saves people," for he was aware that even though Dazai didn't believe there was a clear distinction between good and evil, he thought that perhaps Dazai would find meaning in his life, even if it was just a little bit of purpose.

In Dead Apple, we briefly relive this moment, but I'll write more on that some other time.

And when Dazai joined the ADA, he loses that dark side to him. No, wait, let me rephrase that: he loses a part of that dark side to him. He eliminated the raw sense of bitterness against the world from his face, and instead, he is seen to be a little more passive, and a little more adaptive. No doubt, he still does explicitly state his desire to die, but his wishes are very specific, if you know what I mean.

And a few years later, his journey with Atsushi began.

Atsushi and Dazai's relationship is just one of a kind. I think it isn't a matter of whether Atsushi needed Dazai, or whether Dazai needed Atsushi. It's the fact that they both needed each other. It's the way they both worked hand in hand, and how they sustained each other in ways they were lacking.

The two were polar opposites, but they had a tender kind of warmth embedded in their protectiveness for each other. Atsushi was just as lost as Dazai, but somehow, they worked together just fine. It was like their duality was meant to be. It was the type of symbiotic relationship, where their care for each other was implied, but very deep.

Does this also sound familiar... perhaps, in relation to Dazai's friendship with Odasaku?

Side note: Oda and Atsushi have the same enneagrams, which is Type 2, 'The Helper.'

There is a sort of balance that is brought about by two opposites. Odasaku taught Dazai many things, and I believe Oda learned a lot about a man's life from the way Dazai lived out his life with the innate desire to die. Atsushi sought for the right to live, while Dazai searched for a reason to live; in addition, Dazai validated Atsushi's feelings, and Atsushi was able to acknowlegde the amount of pain Dazai was going through.

Despite how Dazai's perspectives and beliefs stood in contrast with those of Oda's and Atsushi's, a type of inseparable bond connected the man who no longer felt like he was human, to the people who was the most human.

No Longer Human in the Japanese romaji is 'Ningen Shikkaku.' Ningen means "human," and Shikkaku means "disqualified." The late author, Dazai Osamu, wrote the book No Longer Human. He had gone through the rough throes of trauma and wrote this book as a semi-autobiography, whose plot was centred around a man who faked happiness, for he was tainted by the truth that everyone around him was fake themselves. He turned his life into a joke in order to protect himself from the delusions of this world.

This brings us back to the melancholic temperament, where a person was too deeply immersed in the sad truths of reality and the world itself.

And that's what Dazai's character and ability is based on: being disqualified as a human being, because he wasn't well-versed with what being human was actually like. The fabrications of being human sprung up all around him, but he wasn't willing to be fooled by how ingenuine the world truly was.

“I am convinced that human life is filled with many pure, happy, serene examples of insincerity, truly splendid of their kind—of people deceiving one another without (strangely enough) any wounds being inflicted, of people who seem unaware even that they are deceiving one another.”

- excerpt from Dazai Osamu's No Longer Human.

People who don't feel human emotions or don't react to circumstances the way humans do have a variety of ways of explaining how they feel inhuman. They are highly intelligent, which separates them from the average class of humankind, since they've analysed and untangled the truths of life in order to attain understanding, which they value above all else. But, this understanding of the world and its painful truths results in a deep kind of sorrow, which only a few people can seem to empathise with in order to help them out with that burden.

“Pain and suffering are always inevitable for a large intelligence and a deep heart. The really great men must, I think, have great sadness on earth.”

-excerpt from Fyodor Dostoevsky's Crime and Punishment.

Don't you think that this deep sorrow that lies in the heart of the intelligent, makes them the most human of all? They're too human, to the point where they don't feel human. Perhaps, it is a type of defence mechanism, where the mind numbs the heart from feeling normal human emotion, because logically breaking down such concepts is easier than feeling them. But it comes at a price. The heart is willing to recklessly comprehend and fathom any sort of emotion, including pain in its true form, but the mind bears more pain in understanding such concepts because it seeks to decipher every single agonising detail of how complex human emotions are. The mind thinks, the heart feels. There is a clear distinguishing factor between the two. Whether feeling hurts more than thinking, or thinking hurts more than feeling, or whether both these processes work hand-in-hand to make up the reality of life itself, is up for an individual to decide.

Only a few people can seem to empathise with intelligent people who are deeply sad at heart, in order to help them out. As for Dazai, it was Atsushi and Oda. They never took away the pain, but they made him grow from it; it worked vice versa, too.

Of course, there are less tedious and more appealing aspects to the concept of Dazai's intelligence. Dazai was seen as a threat to his enemies because of how manipulation and his keen skill of deduction made up how sharp his mind was. Besides, no one could commit '138 murders, 312 cases of extortion, and 625 cases of fraud, along with various and sundry other crimes,' without having a certain level of intelligence, right?

Dazai had the moral alignment of 'chaotic neutral.' He was more focused on using his intellect to achieve the desired end results of a predicament, and he wasn't afraid to use the wrong means. A famous example was when he deflated the airbags of Ango Sakaguchi's car in order to gain the assured protection of Kyouka Izumi.

Justice is a weapon. It can be used to cause harm, but it cannot protect or save others.

Another example was when he blew up Chuuya Nakahara's car.

Just kidding. That was just a simple pastime (；・∀ ・)

His moral alignment points to what Oda said about him: the part where he mentioned that Dazai didn't really see any difference between good and evil. As long as his ends were achieved, especially if it were in the benefit of his fellow colleagues, he wasn't afraid to exploit, threaten, or endanger others' wellbeing. Because, at the end of the day, the end result triumphed the morally bad methods utilised to achieve it, correct? He always had a reason for his motives and actions, even if those actions were evil and inexcusable.

(eg. action: the psychological abuse he bestowed upon Akutagawa Ryunosuke.

motive: to enable him to hone his own ability favourably and to curb his arrogance)

But the consequences of one's actions will always catch up with a person, no matter what heights they've achieved.

Okay, we're reaching the end of my rambling very soon, I promise.

“If I had to go, I’d like to go out just as beautifully.”

“I’d prefer you don’t go.”

This part of the post is highly inspired by iwachuwu!!

An important factor of Dazai's development is highlighted BSD Wan's episode 10:

I'd like to appreciate that this scene focuses on how much Dazai actually means to Atsushi. When Atsushi responds with "I'd prefer you don't go," he said it lightheartedly for he thought Dazai was joking. But he wasn't. And once Atsushi absorbed the fact that Dazai meant what he said, he was overwhelmed with anguish at the thought of ever losing Dazai. Dazai, on the other hand, had a sense of longing on his expression. There was that look of pure desperation on his face. He was so desperate, yet he knew he couldn't act on his desperation due to a promise he'd made to someone dear to him. But keep in mind, Dazai is unpredictable, so we can never be sure of what's going on in that headspace of his.

Nevertheless, this time, Atsushi recognised Dazai's suffering, as no one usually cared to do, and Dazai didn't put in any effort to hide how he truly felt, as he habitually did. And this mutual emotional connection happened countless times during all the times Oda spent with Dazai as well.

To summarise,

Dazai's character had been carefully wired and patterned out in a way only a few would put in the effort to understand. Dazai was more than just suicidal; he was a being wandering from place to place with no specific aim. He was too smart for his own good. Dazai understood too well of how the world worked and deemed it void of any sort of hope.

Side note: Yes, the truth does come at a price, but it all comes down to how a person understands the truth. As for Dazai (both character and the author he was based off upon), well, it was quite tragic. But that's the way it is for some people, I suppose. But everyone has a different path to travel on, remember that.

His transition from working with the Port Mafia to the Armed Detective Agency was proof of how well-executed his character development was. It was two different personas morphed into what he is today: a womaniser with questionable morals a person who is still standing even after the rough refining process endowed upon him by the realities of this life.

However, he had people along the way come and teach him a thing or two, which perhaps made his life a little more interesting. Perhaps these people were passing clouds that hid the void out of sight for just a moment, and Dazai was always seen to be grasping on to these moments, and letting them go whenever it was time to let go.

His outlook on life makes his intellect look all the more intriguing. It shows that not only does his intelligence contribute to his own wit and shrewdness, but also the practical sense of realism that explains how tired he is of the concept of living because of the truths there are to bear.

However he's enduring the pain right now is by far the most bravest thing a person could commit themselves to doing. It takes courage, and it takes strength, but only a few would ever take the time to recognise such efforts.

Dazai has one of the most beautiful character developments, but I do hope that the development doesn't reach its end anytime soon.

fanart credits: @S7dOZPN3jWBB6cW on twitter

“Now I have neither happiness nor unhappiness.

Everything passes.

That is the one and only thing that I have thought resembled a truth in the society of human beings where I have dwelled up to now as in a burning hell.

Everything passes.”

excerpt from Dazai Osamu's No Longer Human.

#bsd #bsd dazai #bungo stray dogs #bungo stray dogs wan #bsd wan #bsd dazai osamu #bsd characters #literature analysis #literature #dazai osamu #bsd odasaku #bsd atsushi #bsd analysis #bsd atsushi nakajima #.ryley.speaks

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azuregiggles · 3 years

Note

i love these prompt things haha

could you possibly do 15 with ler!sap, lee!dream ?

I’m not sure which list you wanted 15 from so I’ll try both lol

15. “You lose, I tickle you. Deal?”

15. Person A doesn’t like their smile, so they always cover it when they laugh, much to person B’s disappointment. In retaliation, Person B starts lightly tickling Person A, who covers their smile, but it means they can’t use their hands to stop Person B’s tickles. As they slowly get worse and worse Person A eventually breaks.

@fluffallamaful I hope you like it :)

Masked Smiles [Ler!Sap Lee!Dream]

Author’s Note: I’ve never written a full on Fic before so forgive me on this first attempt. Sorry if the intro takes too long. This is a platonic relationship.

Summary: Dream hides his smile and Sap has had enough.

It had been nearly a year since Sap had moved in with his masked friend. In that time Dream had slowly become comfortable enough to keep his mask off everyday. It had taken a while and Sap was grateful to have finally made it as far as they had. Once Dream had opened up to him their friendship took off rather fast. These days they could joke and laugh about almost anything, much like they were now.

Together in Dreams streaming studio they were placing bets with the chat as to whether Dream could beat Saps record on some parkour course they had come across. So far Dream had come really close, and chat was on his side.

“Ooh maybe if you weren’t trash at Minecraft you’d be able to keep your spot on the leaderboard Sap” Dream read the dono and laughed, hand over his mouth to cover his arrogant grin. Sap rolled his eyes, he didn’t care about the dono, he just wished Dream would smile freely rather than cover it up all the time.

“Why do you always cover your smile? You don’t even have a face cam no one can see you...” Sap asked the green hooded man.

A faint blush adorned Dream’s features “I don’t like my smile, there’s nothing wrong with that.” Once again Sap found himself rolling his eyes, he’d see him smile eventually, he’d find a way.

The stream continued another hour and Dream still hadn’t overcome Sap on the Leaderboard. Chat was getting bored and Dream wanted to move on to the next event.

“One last try chat, one more. Last prediction, Will I beat Sap? Place your bets.”

“What if we had a bet of our own?” Sap said in a mischievous tone.

Dream, who was always up for more ways to pick on his roommate didn’t hesitate “What kind of bet?”

“You lose, I tickle you. Deal?”

Dream flushed a lovely red, very grateful for push to talk “WHAT!? Why the heck would you ask for that!? What kind of a bet is that?”

“Oh wow is THE Dream, GOD of Minecraft, scared of a little bet? Worried you’ll lose?”

“Oh my gohod you’re so dramatic. No, I’m not scared of your stupid bet. WHEN I win I’m making you walk to the store in a dress and makeup.” Dream covered his giggles “No, no. If I win, you post pictures after I do your makeup.”

“Alright, deal?” Sap extended his hand. Surprised that his friend would agree so easily, Dream hesitated. “Well, you scared.”

Rolling his eyes, Dream shook his hand and the bet was made. “Alright chat, Sap and I placed a bet on this last run. WHEN I win you all get to see how pretty he is in makeup” his usual maniac laughter followed as chat exploded with encouragement and questions. “Last run here we go”

After a few minutes of dodging pistons, riding mine carts, and jumping from ladder to ladder, it was time. Dream was at the final stretch. Only six blocks stood between him and victory. He jumped from the fence to the ladder, mentally counting down. Five more. Off the ladder and onto the slime block, up to the end rod. Four, three. A sprint jump to another fence. Two. Across to the final ladder, up and to the runway where he’d need a perfect sprint jump to cross the six block gap. One left. He ran, jumping in time to build momentum. Reaching the end of the platform he jumped, and missed the ladder by what felt like only a pixel.

“WHAATT! What the heck was that!? I HAD THAT!” Dream smacked his headphones down as chat filled with Omegalul, Fs, and Notlikethis. He had lost. “That shouldn’t count. Chat I think I deserve another run.”

“No, you don’t! You lost Dream!” Sap laughed before getting close to his ear “You know what that means now right?” He placed his hands at the other’s sides, earning a squeak.

“NO! You have to let me end stream” nervous, muffled, giggles flooded the air “we are NOT doing this while I’m live!” Sap withdrew his hands and told him to make it quick. Dream only managed to stall for a couple of minutes by reading donos before Sap wiggled his fingers in the air. The message was clear, he could end now or suffer through whatever had Sap possessed. With a last goodbye to chat, he ended the stream and shut off the PC. “So, uh...”

Sap scooped his friend out of the chair, not waiting to hear whatever excuses he’d planned to get out of this. Dream struggled over his shoulder, gently punching him until Sap squeezed his side, causing his hands to shoot up and cover his mouth. Once in the living room Sap tossed Dream onto a large bean bag, after all bean bags are shifty and much harder to escape from. Straddling the green one’s waist with a smirk Sap smirked down “Alright if you feel like you’re about to die the safe word is Smile.”

“Sahafe word?” he couldn’t hold back his covered giggles “What is thihihis, Fifty Shades of- SHIHIT!” He was promptly cut off by the fingers digging into his ribs. “NOHOHO StahaHART sohomWHEHEre EHEHLSE” Dream pleaded with his roommate, there was no way he’d be able to hide his face for long if this continued. Rolling his eyes with a huff, Sap switched to kneading his sides. Dreams sporadic laughing slowed to high pitched giggles. “Okahay yohou tickled me pleheheHEASE Sahahap”

“Please what? It hasn’t even been two minutes you big baby” Sap drilled his thumbs into the lowest rib on each side. Dream let out a tea kettle wheeze and his hands shot down to push at the offending digits before snapping back up to cover his mirthful grin once more. But, it was too late, Sap had seen his smile and he wanted to again. “Move your hands!”

“HEHELL NOHO”

“I already saw it so you might as well give it up Dreamy~” he cooed. A brilliant, deep red washed over the laughing boys face, barely visible through his fingers. Both hands managed to sneak under Dream’s shirt and start to skitter up and down his belly “Awww you’re so red~ I thought your favorite color was green”

New peals of high pitched, desperate laughter filled the air “FHUHUHUK YOHOHOU! J-Juhuhust SHAHADDUP Ahahalready!”

Sap clicked his tongue, shaking his head “You haven’t even tried to stop me yet, you didn’t try to run. It’s almost like you missed that jump on purpose Dream. Did you secretly want this~?” A series of sputtered, incoherent words were all the answer he needed. “No way?! Does the little speed runner like having his tummy tickled?” Sap slowed to gentle pokes so he could receive an answer.

Both arms rose to cover his deep red face “Gohohod yohou’re SO ANNOYING, shuhut uhuhup. I’m gonna kihihihill you”

“Uh-huh, whatever you say giggle bitch! Now, let’s see that smile” Sap used both hand to try pulling his arms down.

“I already told you no! You’re literally soho dumb! I’m not gonn- FUHUCK NO NO SAHAHAP NOT THERE!” A strangled shriek escaped Dreams throat as his best friend dug into his hips. He tried to buck Sap off but the bean bag didn’t allow him enough leverage.

“Oh? Is this your worst spot?” He inquired, going from squeezing to kneading and drilling his thumbs into the bone. Another ticklish shriek escaped the man beneath him.

“NOHOHO! DOHOHONT! SAHAHAP! DOHOHOHONT”

“I’m not doing anything! Don’t what?” He feigned an innocent tone.

“TIHIHICKLE MEHEHE” Dream didn’t realize until he’d said it what he’d fallen into “WAHAIHIT NOHOHO- ACK!”

“Only because you asked buddy!” One hand kneaded Dream’s hip and the other pulled one hand from his face so he could blow a raspberry on his neck. The dam broke.

“*snort* SAHAHAP NAHAHAP PLEHEHEASE!” his free hand shot down to push away the attack on his waist, the other still held captive “*wheeze* STAHAHAP PLEHEHEASE” his smile was free.

“Aww you sounded like Techno for a second there! I gave you a safe word~” he cooed directly into the green man’s ear before resuming the raspberry onslaught.

“SHUHUHUT UHUHUP SAHAHAP! I DOHOHONT CAHAHARE! STAHAHAP!”

Sap stopped blowing raspberries long enough to drink in Dream’s smile. He had no reason to hide it, his teeth were white, they weren’t crooked. It was a nice smile. “Say the word, or I’m not gonna stop.”

He hesitated until Sap gave him a final raspberry, this time on his belly “FIHIHINE SMIHIHILE!”

The attack immediately ceased and Dream’s wrist was set free. “You okay?”

Self conscious and flustered Dream nodded, still giggling from the phantom tickles but not covering his face anymore.

“You have a nice smile” Sap ruffled his friend’s hair and climbed off of him.

“I hahate you”

#ler!sapnap #lee!dream #tickle community #mcyt tickle #Azure Fic

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haxorus-imp · 2 years

Note

Hi! I was wondering if you could do an Avalon Centrifuge x shy!reader?

How did you two even get together? It was a mystery to the rest of the Alliance, but not so much as a mystery to the two of you. The boisterous, loud mouthed, ego-centrical person that Avalon was...paired up with a quiet, humble, and shy sackperson like yourself. You two were polar opposites...yet you two wound up together. How you two met was more or less a complicated story. You used to be a traveler. Going from place to place to see all the things...typically on your own. With the Negativitron's defeated in the Craftworld section of the Cosmos, you decided to pay a visit to all of the lands that dotted the surface of Craftworld. Then one fateful day, you happened to hear about this amazing place called 'Avalonia' while visiting the factory of a better tomorrow. You heard about the science, the robots, the technology...but you didn't really expect the person to be in charge of Avalonia to be sooo...eccentric? When you arrived to your destination, his voice was all 'HELLO' and 'WELCOME TO MY "HUMBLE" HOME OF TRANSCENDANCE" over a pair of loudspeakers that shocked you right out of your fabric. His voice was loud and amplified by the loudspeakers, which gave his voice such a powerful reverb. After the initial shock was over, he honestly wouldn't stop talking. Not like you were a talker yourself, Avalon did most of the conversing while you merely nodded your head to make sure he understood that you were listening. He was the talker and you were the listener. That's typically how your interactions went. At some point, you figured you would get annoyed or disinterested with his presence and chatty behavior...however, you found yourself listening to him intently instead. How he talks and speaks proudly about himself and the alliance and how he recalls the time that they all defeated the negativitron under his leadership. Funny that...didn't that Da Vinci guy you met before say he was the leader of the alliance? Regardless, you listened to his numerous tales and feats, slowly getting invested into them the more he talked. He did it in such an endearing way that you were kinda...charmed...by this balding hairy chested man...and it was just as strange as it sounded. That was when you stopped travelling. You stayed in Avalonia for a while, listening and getting frequently visited by Avalon throughout most of your stay. Then one day, Avalon practically strode up to you and admitted to you being 'lavishly good-looking and fitting for a hero like himself', much to your surprise. That was when he asked you out. Just out of the blue. In true Avalon fashion. You were so caught off guard that you kinda stared at him in stunned silence. But eventually, you shyly nodded that you wouldn't mind hanging out with him. Avalon was pretty happy and was NOT quiet about your new relationship, much to the embarrassment of yourself. Yet...you both stayed together and grew closer day by day. Avalon, while an arrogant and egotistical maniac on the surface, actually had a lot of internal issues that he didn't show anyone. Not even you...at first. He was sensitive about his balding. He was worried about Craftworld and if anything else would attack again. He boosted himself up with confidence...just so he would ignore all of the glaring problems with himself. Plus, while Avalonia was great for science and tech and...security, it didn't really help with loneliness. He even admitted to thinking he was gonna die when the Negativitron swooped in, destroyed Avalonia, and sucked him up. He couldn't even describe the feeling to you. Just...it was horrible and incredibly oppressive. He only remembered blacking out before coming to in a cage guarded by a large robot. It seemed that on the surface, it was easy to misjudge Avalon and his capabilities. But like yourself, he was still a person. He has his own fair share of worries and trauma, which you could understand. But thankfully, he wouldn't have to be alone anymore. Because he now has you.

#LBP #LBP2 #LBP Avalon #avalon centrifuge #Avalon x Reader #haxorus imp #anon ask #sorry for the delay #Took a bit for me to find out how to work on it

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fedonciadale · 3 years

Note

Thoughts on Voldemort? (I always found him kinda boring, but your meta are just 😘👌)

Hi there!

As villains go, Voldemort is a mixture between "villain with a back story" and "big bad evil that needs to be destroyed because he is so powerful" and I think that his character suffers from his mixture.

From book one to five he is that big bad evil powerful wizard, a Dark Lord, that has an agenda against muggleborns and muggles. And he is after the life of our hero. So it's quite obvious that he has to be defeated.

In book six he gets a backstory, that shows that he is a halfblood himself, that he uses the whole blood supremacy thing as propaganda to get followers. From book six onward you never get the vibes that it is a question of belief for him, he just wants the power that comes with the followers. And it is a testimony to how deeply the prejudices are set in wizarding society that he manages to get quite a few very ardent followers.

I actually think that development is o.k. because a hypocritical villain is even more easy to dislike. And it's also consistent that all Voldemort really wants is immortality for himself and power for himself. He is a deeply narcisstic villain - in his youth he very obviously also had the charm that often comes with narcism. He doesn't care for the lives of other people and that is a villain characteristic that again makes it easy to hate him.

It fits into this that his arrogance and his neglect of details are his downfall. Narcisstic people do not understand people who are motivated by altruism or love for others. It makes sense that Voldemort does not understand Snape, Narcissa, Regulus or even Dumbledore.

I still think that Voldemort basically dying of the killing curse he himself cast is one of the best ways for a villain to die.

I also appreciate the really evil idea of the horcruxes. It shows Voldemort's ability for dark magic, that he has no scruples in letting people die for his own goals and a well written villain is always after immortality. That works very well, I think. And it's a nice use of fairy tale tropes.

But: and now to the things, that make little sense. Voldemort is supposedly very powerful. And that is what makes people follow him. They adore him, they fear him etc. It makes sense for the first wizarding war. But for the second?

Voldemort was defeated by a baby (Harry) and when he came back the first time he was defeated by a 11year old and then again in fourth book he was defeated by a 14year old. He fails again in the department of mysteries and then at the beginning of TDH.

How does that man still have followers after that? O.k. He makes an example of Karkaroff and others, and I guess giving Wormtail his hand back is some pretty powerful magic, but still. Harry is there and stays there. There should be definitely more people who doubt his power. He should do some really powerful stuff like assassinate the minister perhaps or some major anti muggle stuff, just to show that he is able to do that.

Still, he tries to remedy the Harry situation, so there's that even if his plans only work because Harry has a saviour complex (in fifth book). I think for a really compelling villain Voldemort should be smarter? I honestly think that Grindelwald about whom we don't know very much is a cooler villain?

So, not powerful enough, not smart enough, but only if you think about it. I think he still works as a frightening villain on a first read.

I don't like his back story though. I mean it is a bit tragic. I know JKR wanted all that parallels/foils to Harry, but I hate that he seems sort of destined to become evil? The whole explanation that a child conceived under the influence of amortentia cannot love? It seems like he never had a chance to become anything but a powerhungry homicidal maniac. I think he would be a more compelling villain if he had chosen power and immortality over love.

My main beef with Voldemort is Cursed Child though. Voldemort is after immortality. He killed 7 people for that. Sry, not sry, a man like that does not try to get children. The quintessential villain who is after immortality does not want a legacy. He wants to be his own legacy. Voldemort having a child, or even trying to get one, makes no sense whatsoever.

So, tldr: In general if you don't think too much about it Voldemort works as a frightening powerful big bad evil that has to destroyed. If you look more closely he is not smart enough and not powerful enough. If you look at his back story there is no point where he chose to become a villain. He was one from the start. And let's just not talk about Cursed Child and Voldemort getting a child...

Thanks for the ask!

#anon ask #HP #HP verse #Voldemort #Voldemort as villain #Voldemort and villain tropes

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need-a-fugue · 3 years

Text

Trustworthy (Chapter 5)

Summary: You’ve spent the last three years teaming up with Santiago Garcia on every mission you had a hand in coordinating… and the past several months plotting with him to take down the biggest bad to hit your radar. But even all your time at the DEA and all your experience in the field couldn’t have prepared you for this.

Pairing: Frankie “Catfish” Morales x Fem!Reader (slow burn)

Warnings: Violence, language

His shoes come into view long before you hear his voice, heavy, mud-laden boots stepping confidently in front of you, one tapping out an impatient rhythm for a moment before nudging harshly at your toe. You pull your head from between your legs, plant shaky elbows on your knees, cringe once again at the dull rumble pulsating along your ass and thighs as the chopper continues to climb into the sky… and you glare up at the man before you.

Santi merely smirks as he reaches out a hand to lean into the wall of the helicopter, looming smugly over the top of you. “How you doing?” he asks with a teasing lilt.

“I can’t believe you’re making me do this unmedicated,” you seethe. “I hate flying.” He knows this. Of course, he knows this. And if the overt quirk of his lips tells you anything at all, it’s that he simply revels in your agony. “Asshole,” you mutter as your eyes narrow dangerously.

And the bastard has the balls to laugh. “C’mon,” he says after a beat, his voice just barely cutting in over the roar of the propellors above. He reaches down to grip your bicep and tugs, urges you off of the bench and up to your feet. “Come check this out.”

You release a pathetic-sounding moan, somehow loud enough for him to hear. And pitiful enough to encourage another snort of a Santiago laugh. You trust this man. You’ve worked with him for the better part of three years, been friends with him almost as long. You’d very likely take a bullet for him… well, depending on why he was being shot at anyway. But right now, the crooked, far-too amused grin on his face as he leads you up towards the cockpit is enough to make you want to toss him from the damn helicopter.

He nudges you forward as you reach the front of the chopper, sandwiching you in between his unmoving frame and the back of Frankie’s seat. “Take a look,” he instructs, nodding out towards the rolling green hills below.

You reluctantly raise your head and gaze outside, the beauty of it all enveloping you for a single breathless moment before you hit a small air pocket and the helicopter gives a slight lunge. Again, Santi laughs. So does Frankie in front of you, though he at least has the decency to mutter a soft, “Sorry,” as his eyes arc over his shoulder and catch your wide, petrified stare.

“I’m gonna hurl,” you say, only partially serious.

“Then go lean over Redfly’s seat,” he says back to you with a wicked smile.

You keep your eyes trained on him, on his worn hat, on the side of his scruffy face, on anything other than the wide-open world laid out ahead of you… the one you’re fairly certain you’re all going to plummet down into any second, ending your story in a massive molten steel fireball. “You’re sure you can handle this thing?”

A harsh huff blows out his nostrils, eyes rolling dramatically. “I’m gonna pretend like you didn’t just ask me that,” he replies smugly.

Your gaze drifts down to the myriad buttons and controls peppering the console in front of him, the sheer number of things he must have to keep track of just to ensure you all stay in the air both impressing and terrifying you. A swift hit of panic causes you to inadvertently gasp and you feel his eyes on you once again.

“I know what I’m doing,” he states simply, a warm reassurance emanating from those simple words.

You don’t look up to catch his brief glance. Instead, your eyes remain trained on his hands, entranced by the strong, confident hold he has on the controls. On this whole damn deathtrap of a machine. “Yeah,” you mutter, a bit reluctantly, the tension in your shoulders uncoiling, if only a bit. “Yeah. Okay.”

“Check it out, bonita,” you hear Santi spill into you from behind. You look up and out at the world beyond, see a streak of blinding white creeping in along the horizon. He leans close and pats you on the shoulder. “We make it over the Andes and we’re almost home-free.”

“Just as long as we don’t end up like that rugby team,” you offer snidely before tossing a glance back at him and letting your own face split into an arrogant smirk. “I have a feeling all of your meat is too damn tough to digest.”

He shakes his head in amusement and pops a chuckling Frankie hard enough to bounce the baseball cap askew on his head. “That’s all up to this guy,” he says before leaning over the seat and asking, “You think we’ll make it?”

There’s a bit of a shift to his tone when he asks, and to Frankie’s as well when he answers. “Not sure.” And it’s just enough to cause your stomach to drop to your knees.

“I hope that’s a joke,” you say, doing your best to hide the anxious warble to your voice.

He looks over his shoulder and tosses a seemingly carefree smile in your direction, easily hums out, “Just playing in the clouds, cielo,” before turning his attention back to the task at hand. You roll your eyes, but can’t quite keep the corner of your mouth from ticking up into a crooked grin all the same.

000

Somehow – somehow – you had managed to fall asleep. Sheer exhaustion and the near-constant ramping up of adrenaline apparently being the trick to getting you to nod off whilst in the air without a Xanax-vodka cocktail. You never would’ve thought it would – or even could– happen, but for some indeterminate period of time you became utterly dead to the world while rocking on this terrifying contraption. In fact, you’re so far gone that you don’t even register what’s happening when your heavily drooping head suddenly slams back into the wall in time with a violent lurch, ripping you from sleep alongside a horrifying screeching sound from above.

The helicopter heaves again and you white knuckle it, clinging maniacally to the metal bench beneath you as you watch Ben and Will look frantically around as though they too had just been torn from rest. From your left, you hear Santiago scream something at them. Something that sounds like, “Pull the lever!” the words just barely audible over the top of the whooshing reverberating in your ears.

The brothers both leap up – one a bit slower, a bit more painedthan the other – and they turn to search for the device. Will finds it first, a bright red lever sticking out like a sore thumb amidst the gunmetal gray and deep olive drab tones of the helicopter’s interior. He pulls it in a single harsh movement and both of the men hold tight to the netting on the wall as they stare down at the small access door in the floor. But… nothing seems to happen.

“Didn’t work!” Ben shouts back at Santi, and by this time, you too are leaning forward to catch a glimpse of what they’re looking at. Through the tiny access door, you can just make out the net full of money, swinging dangerously from the bottom of the helicopter. With a jolt of panic, you realize that they’re trying to release it.

“What’s going on?” you shout, your words effectively drown out as Santiago pushes past, forcing you back to your seat as he yells something about a manual release.

Ben drops to the floor and tries to shimmy through the access door – much to your horror – just as the chopper heaves to the side again. Will lunges forward to grab him, but as it turns out, there’s really no need for him to worry about his brother because he… “Can’t fit!”

All three men freeze, hovering over the tiny hole in the floor for a single, nerve-wracking moment as they gather their wits and formulate a plan. Then all three sets of eyes turn on you.

“No, no, no, no,” you string together as you throw up your hands and lean further back on the bench.

Santi steps forward and kneels awkwardly in front of you, his hand wrapping tightly around your wrist. “We’re going to crash if that thing stays on,” he shouts over the din. “If we release it, Fish can land. If not, we die.”

You shake your head no, but don’t resist as he tugs you up and forward. “Think you can fit?” Ben asks, his voice, perhaps for the first time you’ve heard it, carrying no hint of humor nor mirth. You lean forward to look, and you freeze.

At your back, Santi gives you a little nudge and squeezes your elbow reassuringly. “The release is right there,” he says, pointing down at the heavy lever atop the net. “We’ll lower you down. Just kick it to release.” He turns you toward him, looks you dead in the eye, now holding tight to both of your arms, and he gives you a quick, firm shake to make sure he has your attention. “We won’t let you fall. I promise.”

You give a blank nod and swallow thickly before stepping closer to the access door and appraising the space. You can do this… of course, you can do this. You can fit through that door. Just drop through it and… kick the thing. They won’t let you fall. They won’t let you fall. We won’t let you fall.

“Okay,” you say simply, nodding once more as Santiago transfers you over to Benny. You seize him in a death grip as he lowers you out the door, his strong hands wrapped firmly around your biceps, his stern, set face – so unlike the visage you’d come to know – holding your stare in a confident promise. We won’t let you fall. But as you kick wildly through the air, you realize that the lever is just out of reach.

You look up to see Benny turn to the others and say something, but the wind rushing around you keeps his words at bay. When he turns back, he nods down, issuing a silent command to keep trying, and you feel yourself slip further from the helicopter. Immediately, your eyes snap back up and you see that his grip on your arms is still solid, he hasn’t slackened a bit. But he is about halfway through the door himself.

Can’t fit, my ass, you think exasperatedly, noting that his hips seem to be clearing the opening just fine. Sure, it’s tight, but he could’ve made it. You shove those thoughts away for now – though you have every intention of berating him for this later – and you stretch further, looking down to line up your foot as best you can with the lever, each kick haphazardly swinging through the air and just missing the release.

Finally, you make contact, feel it jerk a bit beneath your boot. You pull back and make one more wide-arcing sweep and slam into the lever with your heel. The net full of money drops, your wide eyes watching as it plummets to the earth below. But – before you’re even able to fully register the fact that you actually did it – the chopper lunges to the side, awkwardly reacting to the sudden drop in weight, and your body is flung up against the bottom of the helicopter.

Ben holds you tight, his fingers digging into your flesh almost as deeply as yours are into his. But when you look up, you see that he’s shifted so far that he’s now hanging almost entirely out of the access door himself. His wide eyes connect with yours, terrified for a beat of a moment before his face pulls back into that stern, determined expression.

“We gotta jump!” he shouts down at you, causing your hands to constrict around him. He looks up, presumably at whomever is still holding him in the aircraft – though nothing can really be seen beyond the tight access door – shouts something into the wind, and then – before you can protest, before you can prepare – you both just… fall.

Strong arms tug at you and by the time you hit the ground, Benny’s got you cemented to his chest, breaking your fall at least a bit as he tucks and rolls for the both of you. But it still hurts like hell, your foot slamming into the ground and cranking your ankle to the side, you head bouncing off of something hard and sharp on his tac vest as the two of you collide with the earth. The air is forced violently from your lungs by the impact, and the horrific sounds of the helicopter breaking apart above you drive their way into your consciousness, reminding you all at once that not everyone has someone to break their fall.

Benny shoots up and lunges forward, stopping himself for just the fraction of a second it takes to turn back and glance over at you, make sure you’re alright. Or… alive, at least. A giant piece of metal flies toward both of you, the shimmer just registering in your periphery, and you grab at his arm to tug him back down and out of the way. The second it’s past, he’s up again in a flash, readying himself to take off just as the body of the chopper skids to the earth, lurches and rolls, and finally pulls to a terrifying stop ahead of you.

You follow him, of course, trailing behind – the now twisted ankle slowing you almost as much as the steady stream of blood trickling into your eyes. You don’t see Santiago – along with Will – climb from the wreckage, don’t see him rush for you as the brothers head for the cockpit. But you do manage to wipe enough blood from your eyes to catch the horrified look on his face once he’s right in front of you.

“Are you alright?” he asks as frantic, shaky hands pull up to wipe away more blood and examine your head. He hisses when he sees the laceration at your hairline, but you can hear a relieved breath blow out of him when you give a nod in response.

“Benny could’ve fit,” you say, words tumbling out in a breathless heap. “That was bullshit.”

Santi just laughs, loud and carefree, and pulls you into an unexpected – but most welcome – hug. “Look on the bright side, bonita,” he mutters into you, clinging tight for a lingering moment. “At least you can still say you’ve never been in a helicopter crash. You bailed before we hit.”

You shove him away and scoff, waving wildly at the wreckage behind him. “That still counts!”

He simply laughs again, shaking his head fondly, before finally dropping his hands from your shoulders and heading over to check in on Ben and Will.

“I keep telling you,” you shout at him as he goes, pointing heatedly at the wrecked helicopter. “Death trap!”

“No one’s dead,” sounds from a few feet away, drawing your attention. Tom steps out from behind the chopper and gives you a strict nod as he throws your tac vest over, the piece of equipment landing with a dull thud near your feet. “Suit up.”

You reach down to collect the vest, pinching your eyes firmly shut to stave off a sudden swell of dizziness as you pull back up a bit too fast. But before you can stumble and reel, a steadying hand lands on your back. You blink away the shakiness – and a bit of blood still trickling into your eye – and crane your head just enough to see the man now looming at your side.

“You good?” Frankie asks, concern furrowing his brow as his eyes bounce methodically back and forth between you and the order-shouting Redfly. You want to say yes. You want to ask him – bleary gaze focusing on a seeping cut down his cheek – if he’s alright. You want to ask where the hell he came from, how he appeared at your side so suddenly, just when you needed him. But before you can even crack your lips apart to speak, he shouts over to Tom, a quick and definitive, “I got her!” and you startle out of your pensive state.

His hand slides over to cup your ribs as you pull yourself upright, his thumb absently stroking atop your now sweat-soaked shirt. You turn to face him, head cocking almost comically. “You got me?” you ask, words lilting as a small smirk pulls at the corners of your lips.

His head ducks a bit as a wide, almost nervous-looking smile blooms. “Yeah,” he mutters, his hand falling away and fisting nervously before he reaches out to take the tac vest from you. You let him, remaining staunchly still – save a bit of residual sway from the trauma of falling out of a freaking helicopter – as he deftly fits it around you, tightening the straps and snorting out a short chuckle as you oomph in response. He gives a light tap to the center of your chest, a quick all good once the armor is in place, and meets your eyes before stating simply, “I got you.”

The coms are shot and the moment everyone gets into position, that thick anxiety begins curling low in your gut yet again – no rest for the weary. But, despite the fact that presumed hostiles are digging into your net full of money right now, and your way out is a smoldering pile of spent metal, and all of you are exhausted and beat to hell, limping and wiping away blood every few seconds, despite all of that, well…

I got you.

Even once the shooting starts – a single quick pop from your left, a smattering of gunfire from within the group of farmers… Even as Frankie rises and curses and trains an unyielding stare on the chaos ahead, his hand falling to your shoulder for just the fraction of a second it takes for him to communicate, stay down… Even as the locals retreat and you all move to close in, Frankie stepping directly in front of you, refusing to let you move ahead of him… Even as you approach and see the two men lying dead in the field, Tom standing over them, a look of shame painting his face… Even then, there’s a sort of calm that floods your senses, an internal quiet that sits deep in your bones, a reassurance that sounds in a deep, reverberating tenor.

I got you.

Taglist:

@tweedlydumbtweedlydoo @icanbeyourjedi @greeneyedblondie44 @mrscrain-x7 @kyjoraven@elephants-are-a-thing @nakhudanyx

#frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #francisco morales #frankie morales x you #frankie catfish morales #triple frontier #frankie morales x ofc #catfish morales #santiago pope garcia #santiago garcia #benny miller #will ironhead miller

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huskeddevotee · 3 years

Text

Borderlands 3 and the Powerful Man + Crush on woman = Powerful Woman phenomenon

A common complaint in BL3 is how we get spoon fed a narrative of powerful women and girl bosses, without ever seeing strong female characters. No one is actually interesting or with much substance. With the problem of a false feminist narrative, I've had a nagging question in my mind since I first played:

What's up with the crushes?

Zer0 has a crush on Lorelai.

Fl4k has a crush on Ellie.

Troy has...a thing, for Aurelia.

Lorelai is an enby who presents and mostly uses feminine pronouns, and is a leader of a small Atlas soldier group fighting Maliwan. Zer0 is an enby/of indeterminate gender who presents and uses masculine pronouns, and is an Atlas spy and assassin.

Ellie is the owner of the Catcharide and the Sanctuary III's mechanic. Fl4k is an enby bot who is obsessed with death and the hunt.

Aurelia is an older woman who is rich and full of bravado, though not to the point of unclassiness. Troy is a leader of a cult and is both aggressive and intelligent.

So, this doesn't look bad so far. But look closer and it looks...weird.

We never see Lorelai and Zer0 interact bar an Echo log and a dialogue that may or may not play from Zer0. Troy and Aurelia are fundamental opposites; Troy is a grungy, crass, lowerclassmen, Aurelia is an elegant, classy, hyper-class-motivated woman who detests reprobates. Aside from a one-night stand which is ooc for both, they have no relationship.

And Fl4k and Ellie…

Fl4k flirts with Ellie once.

And its not even flirting.

When the player meets Ellie, if they play Fl4k, their line is "You've got admirable heft, girl."

I am a fat girl. If someone tried flirting with me by telling me I was fat enough for them, that person would be maced. That isn't flirting. It has no grounds for a relationship, but because GB says so, Fl4k says this as a way of showing they like Ellie.

Now, let's take a look at the boy and enbys.

Troy is a ruthless maniac with a taste for violence and attention. He controls the CoV, even killing a powerful Siren, Maya. He is dangerous. He is depraved. His thing is that he has the masses to throw against whoever oppose him, and years of being out of the spotlight has even turned him against his sister. He's off the rails and taking control.

Zer0 is a hyper-skilled assassin that is 10 steps ahead of everyone they encounter, predicting enemy plans before they are even made. They are lethal with the blade and incredibly agile, striking fear into their victims with their mystery and oddness.

Fl4k is a bloodthirsty stalker of men, obsessed with appeasing death after gaining sentience and revels in the fear of their enemies. They've tamed vicious beasts and what they can't sicc the pets on, they take down with a bullet to the head.

Ellie is a mechanic.

Aurelia is a rich woman who's good at hunting.

Lorelai is a murderous batista.

Now, the girls are not bad characters. I like them all.

But why do these men like them?

There is no reason or precedent. We have no reason to think these characters have chemistry bar being told there's something there. And all of them are straight - this is notable because the samesex relationship was done wonderfully. They showed chemistry and genuine romance between Wainwright and Hammerlock, why couldn't they with the trio of heteros?

Because there was nothing to push with Wainwright and Hammerlock.

Every single female character that didn't die, we are told is powerful, a strong woman, a boss lady.

They weren't. They were stupid, brash, arrogant, and did nothing to advance or control the plot. They told you where to go, and someone else told you what to do. Lilith has nothing to do until the end of the game. Tannis is a factor for 3 things. Ava does nothing ever. Ellie doesn't do anything. Lorelai doesn't do anything.

Not even Tyreen or Aurelia do anything. Troy does everything for Tyreen until he dies, and Aurelia just taunts you over the Echo and shoots at Hammerlock. On Promethea, Rhys tells you what to do. On Eden-6, Wainwright tells you what to do. On Nekro, Typhon tells you what to do.

For a game all about strong women, the women have no autonomy and its the men doing everything and moving the plot forward. The only female character that does something significant is Maya, for dying and directly encouraging Troy's abandoned character arc.

So, we have female characters who aren't convincing as strong, powerful women.

We know Ellie and Aurelia are powerful and strong - they're fan favorites. Everyone loves Ellie, and for the ten people who like TPS, Aurelia is great fun. Lorelai needed convincing the most.

What's the easiest way to hammer in "See? They're strong and powerful!"?

Make a strong and powerful male/male presenting character have a crush on them.

Zer0 is scared of Lorelai and likes it, even messing up the haiku when meeting her. Fl4k admires Ellie’s body - which I’ll get into in just a moment. Troy bottoms for Aurelia. These guys are intimidating and dangerous, so them falling for x woman means x woman is a strong, feminine force that allures them with her strength.

Wainwright and Hammerlock are good because they were allowed to be a couple. They were just in love and you can see it. The trio never romantically interact beyond telling you "I, scary man, want this woman to step on me" in different flavors.

And what bothers me the most out of all of them is Fl4k and Ellie. Ellie was never a sexual character. She didn't care how people saw her, and didn't care about whether or not she had a man. As a fat girl, I adored her because it was nice to just see another fat girl not be just a Rebel Wilson fat girl. She talked about her body and was happy with it, but it wasn’t just “I am fat and like to f*ck.”

In BL3, we are constantly reminded that Ellie is desirable and sexy. She tells us she wants to 'show city boys things they only see in nature documentaries'. Everyone's (Sans Zane, bless him) first comment upon meeting her is on her weight and how hot or good it is, rather than saying an actual greeting. You don't do that. You don't greet someone by saying "Wow! You're fat!"

They were trying to be positive about Ellie's body, but instead made the VHs look like feeders. Ellie was positive because her weight did not matter. Making it the only thing about her just...made it weird.

And Ellie and Fl4k's only flirty interaction is Fl4k telling her they like how fat she is.

At least Lorelai and Zer0 clearly say they like something normal about the other. Lorelai comments that Zer0 is tall, Zer0 says Lorelai is scary in good way. Troy and Aurelia is just an allies-with-benefits, they don't have a romantic connection.

Fl4k, if that line was meant to be flirting, outs themselves as a fetishist.

This bad character writing and interaction writing happens because we had to be reminded that these characters are powerful, and the only way was to make other characters say "Wow she's hot." The only reason this didn't happen to the main female cast is because they had a main part in the story - Lorelai, Ellie, and Aurelia are all blink-and-you'll miss it.

The three women not being part of the overarching story means that they don't have a lot of opportunity to show off how capable they are - we have to be told directly, or be shown that they are because someone powerful thinks they're hot. And the thing is, these characters are strong characters, but we aren't allowed to see them be. Ellie was one of the best new characters in BL2, Aurelia one of the favorites of TPS. Lorelai could have been a great character, too. But they just didn’t do anything with them.

And even stranger, they did this thing with Maya and Krieg.

When Krieg first saw Maya, his thoughts were 1, she's a Siren and could kill me, and 2, I am completely enamored with her. In that exact order. But this doesn’t come off as an attempt of spoon-feeding faux girl power because Maya is blatantly a strong female character. Every second with her, she is in control of the situation and active in the plot, both in BL3 and BL2. You don’t need to be convinced that Maya is a powerful woman, so Krieg being in love with her not only works via genuine chemistry, but because how could he not be?

But the difference is, with Maya and Krieg, we actually had decent writers who knew how to write relationships between characters and how to, y’know, develop good female characters.

Which we don’t anymore, evidently.

#bl3 #borderlands #troy calypso #zer0 the assassin #fl4k the beastmaster #probably the only one who actually has a problem with this #whats disappointing is that i do like the idea of zer0 and lorelai #but there isnt enough to convince me that theres genuine chemistry #aside from aesthetic they dont look like a functional couple #i wrote this at 2 am

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thehoneybeast · 3 years

Text

Reconnecting

Ok sooo.. I have been a little obsessed with this great show and had the inspiration to write and actually finish! a fanfiction because apparently I am n love with a stupid cartoon monkey called Hugo.. so here we go! Maybe some find a little joy in this.

Warnings: mention of death, maybe trauma, stupidly dramatic

Pairing: Hugo/Scarlemange x Reader because why not

Okay a little rant from me first. Spoiler! I couldn't just accept that Hugo dies at the end of the series so I had to come up with a stupid way in which we could save him. This came from the same storyline in which he wouldn't die. If my motivation is big enough, I might continue this, but for now this is all I have. Also, the story is a little straight forward, no gentle start or anything. Enjoy!

He smelled the sweat on your skin, mixed with the earthy note of dirt before he recognised your own scent underneath. He let go, held your head between his hands and smiled widely. Your hair was a mess, dull and mixed with leaves but it held the same beautiful colour that he remembered you with. Your eyes stared at him with confused happiness and he felt his heartbeat quicken. It had taken him years to find you, to finally see you again. You had grown, your features had become more firm and you were confronted with the same sense of astonishment as him. Last time you had stood in front of Hugo, he had been the same hight as you. He always looked a little shy with his rather small frame. Now you stood in front of a mandrill the size of a gorilla, his shoulders broad and hidden underneath a fancy costume of the old France. You could feel the enormous strength in his arms as he held you, the intimidating strength of a mute.However, you couldn't comprehend the fact, that he was alive. After what felt like forever, you finally found a known face and one that you held a special place for in your heart. It brought tears to your eyes, which caused his grin to falter, instantly letting go of your head. "Are you hurt?" the question came out quiet as he let his eyes search your body for any signs of a wound but you just shook your head smiling, wiping your tears away. "I'm so happy to see you are alive-" was all you could say, before a wave of emotions hit you and you let your head sink, ashamed of causing a scene, but he just went to embrace you yet again. "No need to shed tears, you are save now." His words were quiet, just loud enough for you to hear. "Nothing will hurt you as long as you stay with me." You held each other, enjoying the familiar company. When he let go this time, he made a few steps back suddenly filled with energy, spreading his arms. "You are now part of my kingdom! Everyone will know not to touch you, unless they wish to face the strength of my army! " he announced, proudly taking in the view of the humans behind you. He felt his heart flutter as you watched him with big, beautiful eyes.It brought him on a high he hadn't experienced in a long time. He turned around and motioned for you to follow him before he stalked ahead. "Let me show you around!" he more or less ordered and you needed a second to get of the ground and hurry after him. While rushing to his side you couldn't help but notice the people behind you. You didn't recognise them because of their masks but you felt something was off about them. He tangled his arm with yours as soon as you reached him, grinning and leading you through his place. It was way bigger than you would have imagined, overgrown by nature in many places while still holding a sense of luxury. You understood immediately why he had chosen to stay. He was obviously proud of his home and trying to impress you. He had to slow down a little for you to appreciate what he was showing you and it took him a little self control. You were overwhelmed by the new surroundings and even more by him. It was odd seeing your sweet and gentle childhood friend so very proud and outgoing. You felt a little arrogance in the way he acted but you didn't really care for now. Just being around him made you feel younger and filled you with more energy than you had have since the breakdown of the borrow. It was good to see him healthy and all grown up and you really embraced the warmth which whom he met you. His enthusiasm was infectious and while he was rambling about the great meaning behind paintings and decorations, you listened with wide eyes, completely forgetting about your confused feelings and the rush of fear that you had experienced before you had recognised each other. You didn't think of questioning anything over your joy, until you reentered the great hall you started from. He lead you to his grant piano which was placed on a platform in the middle of the room and as he talked about the music he adored, your gaze shifted trough the room, coming to a halt at the group of humans standing perfectly still. You tilted your head irritated. "What's the deal with them?" You asked Hugo who had paid no mind to your audience. You realised that you didn't really ask yourself why none of them had introduced themselves or even bothered to say anything when you were brought in or after that. Were they even real beings? "They're my peasants." He answered nonchalantly sitting down, starting to play a walz on his piano. You looked at him in confusion, wanted to ask him where they came from, what was going on but as he snapped his fingers, you began to understand. To your horror, the motionless people started to dance. They didn't speak, they didn't laugh or sway mindlessly, they danced as if hanging on strings, as if programmed just to dance. Hugo laughed while you could only stare, slowly processing what was going on. You remembered why they had kept him in a cage back then. You remembered when your father had told you to stay away. It was his sweat. That hypnotic influence it had on primates. You felt your heart drop to your stomach, the easy feeling of home coming disappearing behind the maniacal laughter of your friend. There was nothing odd about the humans dancing in front of you, it was Hugo. He had changed more drastically than you could ever have imagined. He continued his play joyfully, not taking notice of your uneasy expression until you carefully put your hand on his, stopping his movements. Confused and angry he glared at you before he saw the way you looked at him. You tried to smile, suddenly scared of angering him. "You play beautifully, but please don't make them dance." Your voice was gentle but he must have heard the trembling underneath. His grin grew back, this time more evil than welcoming. "Oh you don't have to pity them. This is one of the only things they're good for anyways." You didn't know what to say. There was hatred in his eyes and you bit your lip nervously, looking back and forth between him and the people. His hands were still hovering over the keys of his instrument, his gaze fixed on you, waiting for a reaction. "Please don't-" was all you could mutter before he turned to the people and waved one of them to step closer. Hugo watched with amusement as the man walked over, a wide and unsettling smile on his face. He enjoyed it. When the stranger arrived Hugo snapped his fingers again and the poor guy started to uncontrollable stepdance. You made a step back, feeling sick watching him. "You don't have to worry, you are my guest. As long as you follow my orders willingly, there is no need for this." He motioned at the man his voice filled with pride and authority. You stared at him. Your breath became short and your heartbeat fastened. He watched his peasant do as he pleased. He didn't know why he had felt the need to demonstrate you his ways, after all you had never made any attempt of running yet, but as soon as he had seen your curiosity for the other humans, he had felt anger. You had been separated for so long, he didn't know you anymore. Maybe you had never missed him, maybe even forgotten him until now, maybe you had even become like them. There was jealousy in his veins but he chose to not let you see that. After all, who knew what your motivation was at this point. It wouldn't hurt to show you, who was in control. Better to introduce you to his new world in a way that you wouldn't dare to question him. When he turned to you again you had brought quite a distance between the both of you, your body reacting to the fear rushing trough your bones. You had lived quite some time out there, all alone. Your instincts had saved you most of the time but you felt your scars tingle as they reminded you of the times it had not. He could do the same to you. You felt hatred crawl into your eyes and run over your cheeks. The hate wasn't directed onto him but rather onto the entire world. This world had made him like this. Your heart ached, wondering what had scarred him so deeply that he felt the need to put others under his control. You realised, that he had most likely wanted to put you under his spell as well until he had recognised you. Hugo, or what he would soon teach you to call him, Scarlemange, watched the war behind your eyes. He managed to look unscathed on the outside while inside he was slightly scared of the decision you would come to. He wouldn't let you leave, he couldn't loose sight of you again. Part of him regretted his little show but he reminded himself, that he could not just trust you to know your place. He wouldn't put you with the rest of them, maybe even let you wander around once he trusted you enough to not try and flee. He yearned for your acceptance of the situation so he could try and rebuild the connection the two of you had shared so many yeara ago. You wiped the remains of your tears of stress away with the hem of your dirty clothes and he instantly wished that you hadn't. It made you look more like a dirty dog and he only realised now how wore down you were. You had been a little chubby as a child, not overweight but a healthy amount of flesh on your bones. It occurred to him, that you might have had to fight for food, maybe falling asleep hungry sometimes. Over all, your body looked strained, he could see muscles under your skin but also bone where he didn't want to see it. He felt himself getting softer by watching you, now more alert than you had been before. "How about something to eat? If you're done throwing a tantrum. " His voice was weaker than he had intended it to be, but he couldn't help himself but worry about you. Of course you weren't allowed to know about that, after all you could use it to your advantage. Your shoulders were stiff your eyes narrowed, trying to see the intention in his eyes. It was sad how quickly the atmosphere around the two of you had changed. It now seemed like a short dream where things had been how they used to be. The reality had hit you hard and brought your mind back into a state of survival. You stood a few feet away from the monkey, meeting his glare unimpressed. "Well?" he tried again, his tone now harsher and more demanding for an answer. You sighed heavily before nodding scared that your voice might break if you tried to speak. He smiled grimly offering you with a gesture to walk beside him. Of course it wasn't really an offer and rather a demand. You looked up at him more disappointed than angry and let him lead you to the other hall where you had come along the giant table. You felt naive for hoping he would be the same and you struggled to decide whether it made you want to leave or stay. He clearly had lived through something that made him like this but you weren't sure if you had the strength to put up with his very dangerous new side in order to help him find back to a healthier view on the world. You had been through quite a lot yourself and thought it unfair that you would have to suppress your own happiness and safety for his sake. So far he hadn't put you in too much of an inconvenience but rather just scared or threatened you. To your surprise he didn't lead you to the dining room but made his way up the stairs to the second floor. It occurred to you, that you could probably run from him, try to escape but you decided that if you were going to do it he shouldn't be expecting it, what he was surely doing at the moment. Instead you followed him slowly, taking in the view of the room while getting higher. Your hands slid carefully over the old wooden stairhandle and you noticed a bitter feeling of hope in your heart when you turned your head in Hugos direction. He was waiting at the end of the stairs and smiled. It was almost charming if you just could have brought yourself to forget what just had happened. "You will change before we eat. I will not have you smelling like a wild animal while dining." He didn't leave room for an argument but you didn't feel like you had the strength for that anyway. "There is a bathtub in there, ready to be used. It was meant for me but you can have it. Clothes will be brought in when you're done." He already headed off, leaving you in the doorway of a lightly lit room which was filled with the smell of flowers. "I hope you don't expect me to wear something like you..?" You asked, facing the big old bath but he was already back on the stairs throwing you a confident grin before he stalked away while you slowly entered the bathroom. A warm bath sounded rather appealing and would maybe help you relax again. The water was hot, a comforting feeling on your skin and even though you couldn't stop feeling sad about your experience with Hugo, you did enjoy the feeling of the dirt getting of your skin. You washed your hair, your face and looked carefully at yourself when you were done. There were scars you didn't recognise and others which causes you would never forget. There was a big towel hanging at the wall, big red and fluffy and you curled yourself up in it. A content sigh passed your lips when you sat down on one of the puff chairs which stood around the room. You didn't want to face him again. Not when he had become like a possessive tyrant. You burried your head under the towel and thought back to a better time. A safer time. You jumped slightly when the door opened before a big wooden box was pushed into the room and the door closed again before you could see who had brought it in. You stared a few moments, debating whether you should play along or not. Sighing yet again, you slowly walked over and lifted the top so you could take a look at the the fabric inside. Of course he hadn't brought you normal, simple clothes. No, it had to be the same old school fashion that him and his 'peasants' were dressed in. You rummaged through the box on the search for something more comfortable than that and found a rather normal looking leggings with ruffles on the outside but decided it was good enough. For your upper body you took one of the white dress shirts two or three sizes too big so that it would hang loosely over you chest. As happy as you could be with your outfit you walked over to the mirror again and took in your form. Your scars were hidden, your hair clean and after you had found a brush and forced it into a more presentable look, you were surprised how good it felt to feel like a human again. The door was opened again, this time all the way and a gorilla peeked inside his hand covering his eyes while he asked in a deep voice: "If you're dressed, please come outside. Scarlemange awaits you. " You frowned hearing that name. You had nearly forgotten who it was you were brought to. Not Hugo, whom you had mistaken him for but the monster you had heard many mutants talk about. After debating with yourself if you should insist on calling him Hugo, you made the decision that it wouldn't bring you anything good to be stubborn right now. So instead you answered with a gentle "I'm coming!" and followed the gorilla out the door. He brought you to the Hall as expected and upon seeing the giant table, now with plates of fruits and fancy dishes, you felt your body scream for food. Hardly keeping yourself from rushing over to eat with your bare hands, the gorilla seated you on the other side of the long wooden table so now you were facing Hu- no, Scarlemange a few feet away. You could see his eyebrows narrow as he took in your new look. "You could've picked something fancier." He scolded loudly to reach your ears over the distance but you just shrugged your shoulders. "I didn't feel like dressing up. Comfortable is better than pretty." You answered nonchalantly, trying not to stare at the meals in front of you. Scarlemange noticed the hunger in your eyes and laughed slightly to himself. "Please, be my guest and treat yourself." He motioned over the table and that was all the invitation you needed. You devoured every bite you took, enjoying the feeling of your stomach being filled to the brim. When you were done, your belly hurt a little but you felt happy and content. Sighing you leaned against the back of your chair. Scarlemange, who was used to eat regularly, took his time, eating with elegance and you couldn't help but smile over the way he was so serious about looking pretty while eating. You had grown a little tired but also braver. Deciding that you didn't want to scream for him to hear you, you eased out of your chair and made your way over to his end of the table. He stopped in his movement watching you through squinted eyes. You reached the chair to his left, pulled it out and sat down, smiling sheepishly at him. "So now you aren't scared of me anymore?" he asked bitterly and you rested your head on your hand, still looking at him. "Surely you understand why I am a little cautious after your little show off with that man. You did it to scare me, didn't you? But you are rather nice to me. You let me clean myself, you feed me. You also tried to intimidate me. I'm not quite sure what you want with me, but I'm willing to give you your time to express it." He raised his eyebrows unimpressed and continued eating while you watched him closely. He had earned some scars himself. Tho they made his colourful face even more interesting. You hummed to yourself as you took your time taking each of them in, wondering what may have caused them. He looked older, more masculine. "You've become rather handsome." It left your mouth without intention and as you noticed what you had said, heat crawled into your cheeks. To your surprise he just laughed evily and glared at you. "What, do you think flattery will make it easier for you to fool me?" There was mistrust and anger in his eyes and you realised that he didn't believe you, which frustrated you. "Nah, I think a poor peasant like me couldn't fool a majesty like you, since you are oh so great and scary!" You huffed angrily. Your anger reflected in his eyes and you took a deep breath, trying to calm the situation. "Seriously. Even though I don't like these clothes on me, they do look good on you. It fits the colour of your fur." He just stared at you, now more confused than angry, which made you continue. "You found your theme and it compliments your personality. I'm just being honest here." You saw his look shifting uneasy and knew that you had flattered him, probably the first to do so in a long time. Maybe now he would answer some questions. "Look Scarlemange, I don't know what happened. I'm pretty sure you don't want to tell me so I'll leave it alone. But I will not just sit and wait, so please do tell me what you are planning to do with me. Am I your prisoner? Your pet? Will you kick me out when you are bored by me? I just want to know what to expect. " For a moment he was quiet. He put his dish aside, keeping his eyes on you, his glare unbroken. "You are a human. You belong to me. I will not let you leave." That was what you had expected but it made you shiver, once he had said it out loud. "However," he continued in a generous tone, ignoring your nervous gulp, "you have the privilege of good memories being connected to you so I will give you the chance of earning the right to keep your own will, just like I told you before. Don't misbehave. Don't betray me or you are going to join the others of your kind in serving me." His tone was firm and emotionless. He wanted to stand up but you stopped him. Your grip wasn't harsh but he stopped in his movements. He wasn't angry with you this time, just wanted for you to say what you had to. "I understand that." You looked down at your hand now covering his and had to fight the urge of getting too upset. "But you get that it is a lot to ask to just demand that I stay here, right? You treat this as if it should be obvious when I have hardly even told you how I feel about it. This has been a very onesided interaction so far and as much as I am happy to see you, we can't go back to being friends if you're not willing to listen as well. You changed your name, your personality. I as well have nice memories of us two playing silly games and spending our time with each other, but the way we lived then was different. Our world was different. We changed a lot. You are not the shy little body I had befriended back than and neither am I the stupid little child." You raised your gaze, afraid of his reaction but he didn't seem upset yet. Instead he took his hand back from yours and talked in a voice like he was teaching a child. "You are right, we lived in another world back than." Now he raised from his chair entirely, walked a few steps and turned his back to you, locking his hands behind his back. "I realised that the world wasn't as we saw it. I had to wake up from that fantasy world of a 'family' and did what helped me survive in the real world." His voice had become spiteful and you felt pain in the words he said. You felt you chest tighten and stood up as well. "Yes, this world is scarier than in the burrow." You interrupted "I had to face that fact as well when the burrow was gone. The life on the surface is hard. It left it's scars on me too." He looked over his shoulder at you, doubt and mistrust in his eyes. " Why did you leave the new place then? If you think the surface is so scary, why come out? To explore it? Are you telling me you had no choice? Do you think I am that stupid?"He stopped in his rant when he saw your eyes go wide. "New..New home? What are you talking about?" He saw genuine shock in your eyes and he was taken a little aback by that. "The place you flet to? The place you all took of to when the burrow broke down?!" There was a heavy silence between the two of you before you could talk again. "So.. That is why I never found anyone after that. I thought-" you stopped yourself sinking back into your chair. Scarlemange squinted his eyes watching you, trying to decide whether you were lying or not. Your performance was pretty believable. "Why would they leave you behind?" he questioned and your heart ached thinking back to that day. You didn't have anyone to talk to about what happened that day so you chose to push it into the back of your head, ready to be forgotten. The trauma would have prevented you from surviving, you didn't have the room for a breakdown when you had to be on guard all the time. But now someone wanted to know, someone knew what had happened and the memories flooded back. You burried your face in your hands, shaking it, trying to stop the emotions from overrunning you. It had been suppressed for so long. Scarlemanges face softened, seeing you react so emotionally. Maybe you were telling the truth. He came closer, not really knowing how to calm you down but also wanting to know. "Please, tell me what happened. " His voice was gentle and more quite than before while he slowly placed a hand on your back. Your words were small, chaotic and he had trouble understanding what you said. "The day the burrow broke down..My father- He was hit by the collapsing roof... The bricks burried him underneath them and he... He was still alive. I couldn't reach him.. Everyone rushed to leave, they were all in panic.." You paused to take some heavy breaths and he felt your body beginning to shake. "I couldn't leave him.. Some tried make me leave with them but... I stayed with him for two days until.. Until he stopped answering me-" You hick uped and your throat was too thick to continue. Images of the chaos flashed into your inner view and the sickening screams of your father. Your whole body started to stiffen up and when Scarl reached over your shoulders for comfort, you turned and clung to him for dear life, crying heavily into his shoulder.There you were again, hugging him, now out of grief instead of joy. He didn't know what to do so he just let your small frame cling to him, carefully wrapping his arms around you. He could only listen to half of your story, though he felt that the rest was rather easy to guess. You had stayed behind for your father and once he was dead you had been left alone with nowhere to go. Even if they had noticed you missing, they most likely assumed that you had been killed like your father. No one would have risked it to come back and search for someone presumed dead. He felt guilt for having brought back those memories and anger as he realised that you as well had been left behind. You must have felt even more lost and scared than him, he at least had been somewhat capable of defending himself. He vowed to himself to try and trust you a little more, especially now that you shown yourself so vulnerable to him. It was the first time that He had embraced someone since his life in the burrow and the fact that it was you filled him with gratitude. Maybe there was a chance for a new friendship between the two of you. If only you were going to understand that he was in control. After all, Hugo was no more. He kept you in his arms until your body started to calm down. The shaking disappeared and your breathing softened. As he looked at your face he saw your red puffy eyes and nose, tears still running down your cheeks. It made his heart ached that you searched for comfort in him and he tried to accept the fact that he wouldn't be scaring you any more. You looked much more exhausted and weak than when you had entered his home this morning and he felt a biting feeling that it was partly his fault. He decided that you had been through enough for today. Not saying a word he heaved you into his arms bridal style and passed through the dining room, up the stairs and to the end of the hallway where his bedroom was. When his servants, the mutated ones, looked at him questioningly, he motioned for them to leave. You didn't move much, your head was hurting and everything felt dull and heavy. Only the heartbeat against your ear and the warmth of his body gave you comfort and when he moved to lay you down and leave you whined like a child. He had put you down onto his king sized bed with comfortable red sheets. "I think you deserve some rest, don't you think?" His eyes were back to the way they had been when he first recognised you. There was no fear, anger or mistrust, only worry and warmth. You reached out for him, taking his hand and pulling it in. It felt mesmerising to be wanted by your side but he looked at You uncertain. "Are you sure? I take up a bit of space." The grin on his face was gentle and you felt a piece of hope return to your heart when you nodded. "I don't want to be alone. I think I have enough of that for quite some time " your smile was sad and your eyelids felt incredibly heavy. He gently pulled the blanket up to your neck and walked to the other side of the bed. He thought back to the Times you two had have sleepovers where you would stay in his little room when your father would allow it. It were some of his most treasured memories, innocent and pure. To think that he could relive them someday was incomprehensible to him. When he layed down you were already at his side again, having turned around under the sheets and cuddled up to him, your body heat welcoming him under the sheets. He felt blood rush to his face and he was glad that your eyes were closed while he returned the embrace once again. No, he wasn't reliving memories, this was different. There was something new within him and he realised that maybe, just maybe he didn't only want a friendship anymore. He listened to your peaceful breathing and found himself relax in your arms, a feeling of comfort and home that he hadn't experienced in a long time.

#scarlemagne x reader #hugo x Reader #kipo and the age of wonderbeasts

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ga-yuu · 3 years

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if you have any story about ibuki can you Translate it please? 👉👈

I have a birthday story here. But if you want another one, I have a story about his past:

Story Of Fate~ Ibuki~

This is the story of an old fate before a new one was born---

*Snowy Field*

Ibuki: “Hm? What’s this?”

As he walked across the snowfield, Shuten-Doji Ibuki suddenly stops and saw something in the distance.

He saw something almost buried in the snow.

Ibuki: “Black...wings? Can’t be---”

He walked up to it and lightly dug the snow to pull it out...

Ibuki: “You’re a baby Tengu.”

???: “Who the....hell...are you..?”

The little Tengu child, with jet black wings growing from his back, stared at Ibuki weakly.

Ibuki: “Just a kind-hearted demon passing by. Now let have a look at your face.”

???: “Don’t touch me.”

Ibuki: “.....”

A small blade of wind, invisible in the snowstorm, cut Ibuki’s hand lightly.

Ibuki: “Heh. You can use your abilities at this age, albeit only slightly. Precocious, huh?”

Ibuki smiles with satisfaction at the blood-red eyes staring back at him.

Ibuki: “What is your name?”

???: “I don’t have such a thing.”

Ibuki: “It’s inconvenient without a name. How about ‘Kurama’, then?”

Kurama: “Kurama?”

Ibuki: “It’s the name of the land around here. Rejoice, Kurama. I’m going to adopt you.”

Ibuki says with satisfaction and holds out his hand. Just then the child, named Kurama, wobbled slowly to his feet and...

Kurama: “I refuse. Die.”

With all his strength, he launched the wind blade once more.

.......

*Scene after many years*

Ibuki: “Kurama, you were cuter back then, than you’re now.”

Kurama: “Are we both living in different worlds? How do you twist the facts and get that impression?”

It was a snowy night and Kurama was sitting in the warmth of his room, drinking with Ibuki.

He looked just as grumpy as he was back then.

Ibuki: “It felt like a kitten trying to fight with its claws. It looked really sweet. Now you have grown up to be so adorable....”

Looking deliberately up at the ceiling, Ibuki sighed.

Ibuki: “You used to cry when you lost to me in a match, but now you’ve become so strong.”

Kurama: “Don’t make such stupid accusations. I’ve never shed a tear. In fact, your fighting style was so bad that I got sick of it.”

Kurama tipped his cup with an annoyed wave of his hand.

Kurama: “---Something like that would be a prelude to a pure battle.”

Ibuki: “You’re flattered, aren’t you? It’s a good thing I harassed you so much, you fighting maniac. But you see, Kurama. You’ve definitely been influenced by me.”

Kurama: “What you do mean?”

Ibuki: “Your fighting style, the way you drink sake, your arrogant way of living life. Also your obsession with things you like. They are all like me, who you hate.”

Kurama: “......Nonsense.”

However, Kurama squeezes his cup, perhaps because there was something true to it.

But Ibuki continued to speak happily.

Ibuki: “In the near future, when you leave me, you’ll remember these words.”

Kurama: “....... Ibuki, Why did you pick me up that time?”

Ibuki: “Hm?”

Kurama: “It is not uncommon for a demon child to die. If I’d lived as long as you have, it wouldn’t have been the first time I’d seen you.”

Ibuki: “Don’t you see, this is all a game?”

Ibuki leans slightly towards Kurama, his eyes narrowed like a beast toying with its prey.

Ibuki: “Hey, do you want to make sense of what I’m doing? Kurama. I should have told you that it’s an imitation that unknowingly rubs against the other person and exposes his weak points.”

Kurama: “It would be a weak man’s life to be afraid of exposing his weak points. Or would you be happy if I behaved like those people you testify to and corrupt? I don’t think so.”

Seeing Kurama, who replied in a hurry, Ibuki puts his elbows on the table in a boring manner.

Ibuki: “....Now that’s what’s so cute about you.”

Kurama: “After all these years living with you, I still don’t know who you are.”

Ibuki: “Don’t you say that?”

Ibuki reaches out and playfully touches Kurama’s cheeks.

Kurama: “Don’t touch me.”

Ibuki: “Aren’t you going to use your wind blades to attack me?”

Kurama's eyebrows furrowed as he realized he was being made fun of for the way they had met. Ibuki laughed at him.

Ibuki: “Even if you’re a toddler, you can see the overwhelming difference in abilities. At that time, I knew you couldn’t beat me but you still shoved off my hand. Your eyes shined brightly in the pure white snow and it was strangely mesmerizing.”

Kurama: “--What are you trying to say?”

They both felt the snowstorm outside the room became stronger.

Ibuki: “I thought it would be great fun to raise you up and one day break your noble heart...But I didn’t get the chance to do it. So, Kurama.”

Ibuki tells him with such a gentle expression on his face that he almost thinks he is caring for Kurama.

Ibuki: “One day, you’ll have someone you care about and I’ll destroy it with my own hands.”

Kurama: “Oh..... Something important to me? That’s a foolish hope, Ibuki. There’s no way I’d love a being so vulnerable that I’d have to protect it.”

After finishing the sake from his cup, Kurama stood up.

Ibuki: “Where are you going? It’s snowing outside.”

Kurama: “It's better than being by your side, who is colder.”

While watching Kurama leave, Ibuki reached out for the sake bottle---

Ibuki: “----It’s empty.”

While listening to the raging snowstorm outside, Ibuki muttered irrelevantly.

Ibuki: “Oh dear. Looks like Kurama won’t come back to me ever again.”

Ibuki was the only one who knew the meaning behind his smile.

#ikemen series #ikemen genjiden #ikemen genjiden kurama #ikemen genjiden ibuki

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mariekavanagh · 3 years

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Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it

A silence hung heavily between them which not even the bitter February chill could penetrate. Mother and son locked gazes, identical grey eyes searching one another's for any trace of familiarity, of understanding, and finding no trace of either, both turned away at the same moment to face the monument once more.

"Maybe one day we'll have a memorial of our own in this cemetery" Sirius remarked after a few moments, his voice light and airy once more. He stared up at the great, white stone, his head tilted slightly to the side as he used to do as a boy whist staring up at his favourite portrait of a sword fight on horseback on the stair landing of Grimmauld Place.

"Just imagine, a list of the names of those that had to die because they had the guts to stand up to a maniac" he continued, seemingly more to himself than his mother, for all his voice trailed off absent-mindedly.

He chuckled slightly.

"I reckon people might be surprised to find a Black on there at first, but it'll give them something to talk about"

"Stop it!"

Walburga whirled round to face her son head-on, her lace veil billowing in the sharp gusts of wind rustling through the trees.

"You talk, all high and mighty, of justice and right, but really this is all just a game to you, as always!" Walburga hurled her words at her son in a tone venomous enough to mask the emotion hidden beneath, constantly threatening to bubble just above the surface.

"Is this the man you've become?" she demanded. "Throwing yourself into the face of danger for the sake of a moment of glory, under the guise of the greater good? Killing yourself for the sake of seeing the Black name on a memorial for Muggle-lovers, in what? Yet another ridiculous attempt to spite your family?"

Sirius was unusually silent. His grey eyes glinted with a defiant shine, but his mother could see it where perhaps no one else would be able to. There, in the corner of his expression. A trace of regret. Perhaps he recognised his poor choice of words. Not that he would ever lower himself to apologise for them.

Walburga let out a cold, choked laugh, her breath sending a puff of steam out into the icy air.

"You stand there, pretending to be all-knowing fountain of wisdom, attempting to talk down to your elders and betters as you always have done, pretending you're some sort of hero, a wannabe-martyr even. You don't fool me, Sirius Black. You never have"

Walburga drank in the sight of her son for the first time, fully, in almost three years. Though he may have now grown to be several inches taller than his mother, to her he may as well have still been the seven year old boy who needed taking down a peg or two for his own good.

She shook her head, somewhat sadly.

"Your arrogance will be your downfall"

"And your ignorance will be yours"

The chilling calmness of her son's words struck Walburga almost as deeply as the look in his eyes. There was not a trace of warmth, of affection, not even of familiarity to be found. Neither was there a hope that any would ever be found within them.

-An Unwelcome Encounter

This was the first story I’d ever written featuring Walburga and Sirius. It’s been a long time since I’ve revisited it, and after re-reading it just now, I realise I’m still proud of it. I feel like it very much summarises how I felt, and still feel, about the relationship between the two characters.

#fanfic asks #sirius black #walburga black #my writing #the noble and most ancient house of black #I genuinely feel like my current writing falls short compared to this

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giorgiastastes · 4 years

Text

버닝 / Burning (2018)

"It's too close, you might not see it"

What to say about this movie...

The film itself is quite simple, even too easy at first sighting I'd dare to say, but the meaning behind, the interpretations and smart details is what makes it unique and pretty much a masterpiece.

I'm sure that most people, or at least those who usually watch unchallenging to elaborate movies, won't like it. If you're looking for something what will be "explained to you", for the director to give you that big plot twist or long monologue, you won't find it here. But if you want to watch a work of art that'll make you think, reflect and crash your minds, you have a good journey in front of you.

I remember that as soon as I've finished watching it I went online to look for theories, to see if someone else had the same idea as me, if I got it right and what I've missed, and then I planned to write here my thoughts on the real explaination, but after rewatching and searching I've figured it out BURNING doesn't really have a "true" explaination in my idea, or better, the director definitely knows what he believes is the so called truth, but the strength of it is how free of interpretations it is. I've read hundreds theories and honestly all of them could fit just right, so for once I've decided to do something different.

In here I will summarize all the theories, under layers and explaination that I've read, figured out or found, and I will leave to you, the reader, to believe your own "truth"

This will be full of spoilers, it's actually a summarization of the after watch, so read at your own risk, and since I'm taking for granted that you've watched the movie and remember it quite well too, I won't always repeat the plot when not necessary.

• Ben sells organs on the black market. That's how he gets his money and Haemi is aware of this, and decided to sell her own organs to pay off her debt. She even says I'D SELL MY ORGANS IF I WERE YOUNGER. She could also be unaware of this and that's why she dissapears.

• Ben is a serial killer. He seduces fragile women who are very easy preys to such an handsome and carismactic young man, and then gets rid of them after he gets tired. This happens about every couple of months, which corresponds to his journey in Africa timeline. They are the greenhouses he burns, because he knows nobody will look for them, and in fact the police does not care about the greenhouses, just like they don't care about missing women nobody knows about.

Ben also owns all the qualities of a maniac sociopath who's keen on control and feels no emotion or empathy. He never cries for example. He also feels pride in his crime and he's almost tempted to confess them to show how good he is. That's why he says to Jongsu that he will burn a greenhouse close to him, but he didn't mean it in a special terminology, but more like in an emotional sense. He will kill the the closest thing the other has, which is Haemi. He also states that she dissapeared like "smoke".

This would also be justified by the creepy call the protagonist receives by Haemi before she dissapears. The biggest evidence placed by the director to prove that this theory is the most correct one is in the last scene, where Ben is putting makeup on a new girl. For a non Korean speaker it's quite hard to get the reference but Makeup and corpses' cremation are spelled in the same way in the hangul language, therefore the movie showing us Ben doing the girl's makeup is the alternative way to say he's killed her and is now cremating the body, hence his obsession with fires.

He's the one who cleaned Haemi's room and took her cat. He also keeps his victims personal objects as a throphy of some sort.

• Ben is a pimp. He's the trainer for these beautiful, young but poor women who are ready to sell themselves when he convinces them to do so. This is shown as Haemi also become less and less shy as the movie goes on, as seen in the undressing scene, while being more bold and provocative too. He changed her drastically, or maybe only let her discover a different, more free, part of herself. He also applies makeup on them how he would do to a doll, playing dress up for a woman who's now becoming just an object of desire that can be bought.

• Ben is a human trafficker. He sends women into slavery while promising them a life of luxury and happiness. That's why he shows off his idyllic lifestyle, and then sells them in Africa (where he goes frequently), where they'll never be found.

• Ben is a life guru. He teaches unsecure and frustrated women to feel liberated and less oppressed, to leave it all behind and start from scratch. They pay him, that's why he's rich. He also keeps a "souvenir" of every woman he has turned. This could explain why he shows up to the meeting with Jongsu in the finale. If he actually killed or sold these women he wouldn't fall into the other man's trick.

• Ben doesn't exist. He's just the symbol of everything Jongsu is not but aspires to be. He's rich, confident, cultured and attractive. Every flaw and layer of insecurity Jongsu seems to have, Ben lacks. And in the end, when the protagonist finally becomes brave enough to mature, to actually chase the woman he loves, he's able to kill the shadow of himself that only reminded him of how miserable he was.

• Ben and Jongsu are the same person. Much Fight Club like, they're the same human being, just different, extreme sides of one. Jongsu could have a personality disorder or maybe we're just shown two sides of him that prove his mental health issues. That's also why Haemi seems to be involved with both of them without choosing a side, because one is the gentle but insecure fraction, the other the bold but arrogant one. And then, in the end, when such division is making him go insane, he decides to kill his alter ego.

• It's just a love triangle. One of my favorite songs of all time had a similar topic. There's the main character, a shy and quiet boy, who falls in love with a girl who feels foreign and unreachable to him. But he's not the only one in her life. She also has another lover who's much more attractive and manly in a way, and all three start to share this peculiar poliamorous love story, mostly platonic. She's very pretty and feels as free as Venus, torn between two men. Then one day she leaves, and she'll never come back. But while the second boy easily moves on with his life, figuring out it was just a näive fling, the singer remains stuck, obsessing over her day and night, trying to find answers and solutions just not to deal with the realization of her not loving him enough to stay.

• Every character represents a social stereotypes and criticism of modern South Korean classes. I think this is very straightforward, especially Jongsu's jealousy of Ben's wealth, and Haemi's attempt to RISE in the social pyramid, surrounding herself with high class people like Ben or his friends, even letting them make joke of her, to mock her, all of it just to feel part of their group and reality.

• It's all in Jongsu's head.

• The disappearance of Haemi, whether it happened or not or HOW it happened are not the main focus on the movie, which instead is the characters dealing with such loss and lack of knowledge on what happened. Much like the Russian movie Loveless (2017), where the event is only used as an artistical device to let the story progress and the characters' grief culminate. Maybe we really don't need to know what happened to her, maybe she's dead, maybe she's alive and better than ever, but to the movie's intent such information is superficial, it's just the human need to fill our curiosity when were too afraid to deal with the pain of remaining unaware of it. Jongsu is sure she's been killed and that brings him to his next move, but the viewer, he doesn't need to know, because he doesn't need to act, to keep the story going.

• Haemi might have killed herself. Ben is the only one who knows about this and that's why she gives him her cat. She also shows multiple signs of advanced depression, for more than half of the movie is almost like she's not there, like she's already just the memory, the ghost of a girl who once was there.

• The movie itself is just a metaphor. The metaphor is many times used by the characters and maybe not only as a word, part of a dialogue, but the overall film might be A BIG, CRIPTIC METAPHOR.

• Everything is hereditary. From family's fortunes and richness to behavior and inner rage. Jongsu was born poor and will die as such just like his father, and even though he seems like the most innocuous being, he's able to take out his rage on other just like this father. I guess it's in the genes.

• Jongsu is the calf. The calf represents Jongsu's pureness and naivety. And when he sells it, he's also selling his soul in a way.

• Haemi represents South Korea, Jongsu North Korea, Ben is the new Korea, the one always more and more Westernized.

• We're just reading the plot of Jongsu's book. When Haemi leaves for Africa he has plenty of time to write the story he's planning to put into words, and that's what he does. Everything we see after she comes back from her journey is just the plot of the book, and the creation of Jongsu's imagination.

• A modern reinterpretation of the Great Gatsby. Yes, obviously a VERY liberate view of the novel, but many details seem to be quite evocative.

• A criticism to how South Korea treats women. Even the movie itself does this, probably on purpose. The one who disappears is a woman, but the ones who are the main centre of attention are men. She's only a story device, never the real protagonist.

• Ben wanted Jongsu to discover his crimes so he could reach fame if the other ever made a book out of it. He's so full of himself he'd rather be punished for his crimes than never showing off how good he was at covering every proof. That's why he dies almost peacefully, and shed a tear, which he claimed to have never done before.

• The well Haemi reference to, symbolizes falling into prostitution. That's why Jongsu's mother knows about it too, since it's quite obvious she's now an escort. But she states the well is dry, as a way of saying that it's not how easy and fun it might seem.

• This is just the tragic story of a boy who's lost every possible source of love. From his father in jail, his mother who abandoned him, to the only girl that ever showed him affection disappearing, and a new friend who he decides to kill.

• Ben is Death or maybe the devil personified. He helps Haemi get the courage to end it one for all, and even pushes Jongsu to kill, cursing his soul.

#burning #burning 2018 #lee chang dong #Steven yeun #steven yeun #yoo ah in #jeon jong seo #beoning #버닝 #버닝먹튀 #south korea #cannes

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fortune-fool02 · 3 years

Text

dio rejects humanity and becomes fish

"Dio, no!" Jonathan cried, reaching out in vain at his adoptive brother.

Dio cackled wickedly, as he clutched the Coral Mask in one hand, its spikes extending menacingly as it was exposed to a vial of ocean water that Dio had swiped from Jonathan's study room. At his feet, George, Jonathan's father, lay unconscious, having been wounded by Dio to gain the final ingredient-- a smear of human blood.

"I reject my humanity, JoJo!" he shrieked with a sinister grin. "I become MERMAID!"

At once, spiked tentacle-like tendrils emerged from the mask and clamped onto Dio's face. A bright, shining glow began to envelop him as a swirling mist formed a whirlwind of chaos within the mansion's lobby.

"Jonathan, get down!" Speedwagon cried, tackling Jonathan to the floor. Behind them, a frightful transformation began to take place, as Dio began to morph, his clothes all tearing off to reveal his bare, transfiguring body. Golden scales began forming onto his skin, his ears lengthened into pointed fins. His teeth sharpened like those of a shark's and four pairs of gills opened up on each side of his neck. Last to morph were his legs, fusing together into a long, scaly tail tipped with a fan-shaped fin, and now unable to stand, Dio fell to the floor with a thud as the light faded away.

Both Jonathan and Speedwagon gingerly looked up in horror at what Dio had become, as the mask dropped from his face and tumbled to the floor with a hollow clank.

Dio, lying prone on the floor, slowly stirred and pushed himself up to a sitting position. "At last...at LAST!" he laughed maniacally, testing out the flexibility of his new tail. "At last I can feel the POWER OF THE OCEAN coursing through me!"

"W-what have you done?!" Jonathan cried in disbelief.

"The power of the ocean has transcended my mortal limits!" Dio snarled, though Jonathan noticed he was beginning to wheeze and gasp. "I have...ascended...from a mere...human....to an unstoppable...force of...the sea!"

"But Dio," Jonathan reasoned, "you're....you're not in the sea."

Dio, now panting heavily, seemed to be suddenly struck with a realization, as his eyes widened with terrified regret.

"W-water..." he moaned, clutching his neck in a panic before collapsing onto the ground, his gills flapping vainly for the water that wasn't there.

"Dio? Dio, no!" Jonathan cried, running to his side.

"Leave him be, Jonathan!" snapped Speedwagon. "Let the bastard fish dry out and die, he deserved it!"

Jonathan glared back sternly at his companion. "He may have been cruel and wicked, and now a mythical sea creature, but he's still like a brother to me!" He grabbed the faintly struggling, gasping Dio by his tail, feeling the drying flakiness of his dehydrated scales, and began to drag him toward the back door.

"Speedwagon!" Jonathan groaned. "Take care of my dad for me and make sure he's okay! I have to get Dio into the water!"

Speedwagon nodded thoughtfully as he rushed to George's side. The old man was unconscious but alive, with the stab wound in his flank, inflicted by Dio, still bleeding profusely. "What are you all standing around for?" he yelled at the authorities who entered the room. "Get this man a carriage to the hospital right away!" he yelled, applying pressure to the wound to stop the bleeding.

Meanwhile Jonathan, dragging the now convulsively-gasping Dio by his tail, was slowly but surely making his way to the fountain in front of the Joestar mansion: the only source of water close enough for him to reach in time before Dio suffocated to death. With one final, heaving grunt, he lifted up the twitching merman and dropped him into the fountain with a splash.

For a few moments Jonathan watched the dark water with bated breath. Then suddenly, from under the murky water, a pair of glowing orange eyes suddenly glared up at him, before giving out a bubbling sigh of exhausted relief, before closing back down again.

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

"How's Dad doing?" Jonathan asked Speedwagon, as he arrived to the Joestar mansion in a carriage the following morning.

"He'll have to stay at the hospital for weeks, maybe months," sighed Speedwagon sadly, "but the good news is that he'll live. We're not sure when he'll wake up, but he's stable and in better health."

"That's good to hear," Jonathan replied, thankfully. "I'll try to visit him as soon as I can, but for now...I've got another problem to worry about for the moment."

Speedwagon's face wrinkled in disgust as he became aware of a fishy smell emanating from a bucket that Jonathan carried in one hand.

"Dear heavens, JoJo!" he complained. "What is that dreadful smell?"

"Just some left-over mackerel from our pantry's ice box," Jonathan replied. "I've got to keep him well-fed so he won't...try to EAT anybody."

"Who...?" Speedwagon relied, confused, as his eyes trailed up toward the fountain, where a familiar, blond figure lay in the shallow, running water.

"Here, Dio, I brought you breakfast," Jonathan crooned gently to the merman.

Dio glared hatefully up at him, with brilliant, tangerine eyes, pupils slitted like a cat's. "I am not a pet, JoJo! How dare you treat me like some lowly wretched beast?" he snarled.

"Oh, Dio," Jonathan sighed mournfully. "You did this to yourself. You were arrogant and foolish and it's just brought grief to us all. But no matter how much of a spiteful imbecile you have been...you are no less a brother in my eyes. And I know I'm a better person than to just leave you to die."

He fished out a mackerel from the bucket and uneasily held it out to Dio, who seized it suddenly and without warning, causing both Jonathan and Speedwagon to stumble back in fright.

Gripping his meal in his clawed, webbed hands, Dio messily devoured the fish, tearing into it savagely as his razor-sharp teeth shredded apart fins, bones, scales and all. Speedwagon felt sickened at the sight.

"Disgusting," he groaned. "He was vile before he became a mermaid but he's even worse now!"

"It's a shame, really," Jonathan added with a dry laugh. "Dad always used to praise him for his table manners."

As Dio finished off the last remnants of the fish, Jonathan and Speedwagon got their first good look at Dio's newfound piscine form in the yellow light of early morning. His entire body was covered in small, fine, golden scales, save for his face, throat, belly and chest, which retained the color and texture of Dio's original skin. A large, transluscent dorsal fin emerged from the middle of his back, the same see-through shade of yellow as the smaller fins that emerged from his ears, his elbows and what used to be his hips. His tail, tipped in a bright golden tail fin, was longer than Dio's legs used to be, coiling snakily around the circular fountain with the fluke dangling limply over the edge.

Still retaining his mop of messy blond hair and sharpm handsome facial features, Dio was both terrifying and yet strangely beautiful, Jonathan thought. Just like many of the sea creatures he studied in his marine researches: a gorgeous, elegant exterior concealing the heart and soul of a ruthless, predatory killer, one that was best admired with distance and precaution.

His golden scales glimmered beautifully in the sunlight, but Dio didn't seem to appreciate the glare one bit. He shrank away from the light, shading his eyes from the glare as he wriggled about in the water until he was safely in the fountain's shadow.

"He doesn't seem to like the light," Jonathan noted observantly. "His eyes must have become adapted for the dark depths of the sea, I shall have to get him some shade from the sun if he's to stay here."

"So, what are we going to do with him now?" Speedwagon asked Jonathan concernedly. "Are you going to take him to the ocean and leave him there? The sooner we're rid of him the better!"

"We may be rid of him if we do just that, but he'll be someone else's problem." Jonathan warned. "He's vicious and powerful and he's sure to use his newfound abilities to hurt others, and it would be our fault for turning him loose."

"You don't suppose we could...dry him up and sell him to the museum?" Speedwagon snarkily suggested.

Jonathan shot Speedwagon a horrified glare. "No, no, we're not going to kill him! He's perfectly harmless if we keep him confined in the fountain. This should keep him out of trouble and I can keep a close eye on him."

Meanwhile, Dio had been listening to the whole discussion: furious that they were contemplating on selling him like some common fish. Angrily, he planted his scaly hands onto the fountain's edge and raised his body up as high as he could. "I CAN HEAR YOU TWO SCHEMING!" he cried out at the two. "How DARE you treat me like this!"

Jonathan shook his head disappointedly and approached the merman, who crouched back into the fountain's shadow hissing like a threatened snake. "Dio, I don't want to do this any more than you. But it's my responsibility to keep others safe from you, and you safe from yourself. You turned yourself into this, Dio, and now I know no way to change you back."

"Damn you, JoJo..." Dio whimpered, his voice beginning to break. "So I'm going to have lo spend the rest of my life, however long that may be, kept prisoner in this stupid fountain like some kind of trained seal at a circus? As your own personal pet mermaid, huh, JoJo?" He splashed his tail in frustration and let out a loud, inhuman, mournful wail, and Jonathan felt a hint of pity, even for someone like him.

"This was your choice, Dio," Jonathan scolded, sternly but comfortingly. "There's nothing more you and I can do about the situation, but have to get used to it."

He offered Dio another mackerel. "Here you go, Dio. Eat up and stop being miserable, we'll try to find out a way to make this work out."

Dio recluctantly reached out to take the fish from Jonathan, before sinking back down into the water, bubbling indignantly about his plight.

Jonathan turned to Speedwagon as Dio ate sulkingly. "Speedwagon? This may be a bit of a favor to ask from you..." he asked awkwardly.

"Sure thing, anything that you request," Speedwagon replied.

"You see, I'm going to have to watch over my father at the hospital for a while. And I'm going to have to have someone to watch over Dio for a while to make sure he doesn't get into trouble. I know he can't breathe without water for long and can't leave the fountain for long, but that doesn't stop him from trying. Could you...merman-sit for me while I check on my Dad?"

Speedwagon nodded uneasily, and hesitantly glanced toward the fountain, where Dio, taking his time as he slowly ate his mackerel, made eye contact with Speedwagon and gave a hostile snarl.

"Dear me," sighed Speedwagon in exasperation. "Today is going to be a very, very long day."

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

***

This.... This was absolutely incredible to read! I love every second of it! Thank you so much for taking the time to write this, anon! It's absolutely amazing!

#merman dio #merman au #submission

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smokeybrand · 3 years

Text

The Cape and The Cowl

A friend of mine posted a meme questioning who would win a fight between Doctor Doom and Batman. My gut reaction is to say it’s real bad for Bruce but, as i thought about it more and more, i kind of feel like its not so cut-and-dry. There is a lot of nuance that needs to be considered between the two characters rather than just a “smash the action figured together” scenario. Of course, there is the surface stuff like how would they interact generally? What would the catalyst be in order to incite said conflict? Why would Doom even see Bruce as a threat? If you think about it objectively, an all things are even, to Vic, Batman is just a crazy person losing his are on crime in a raggedy ass city. Victor von Doom is a the reagent of an entire country with a GDP that rivals some superpowers in the MCU. Like, the USA has diplomatic relations with a blip in Eastern Europe, because Doom has the military power to wreck he US in open aggression. Latveria will lose in a prolonged conflict, that’s just a question of resources, but that little country would absolutely inflict upon the US in a slow bleed. Imagine the War on Terror but with competent leadership and actual, discipline, military strategy. Why the f*ck would Doom care what the f*ck is going on out in Jersey? More than that. the similarities between the two characters is staggering.

We all know the origin of Batman. We’ve seen that sh*t how many times now? It’s like getting a new Spider-Man joint and having to watch Uncle Ben die all over again. It’s trite at this point but so essential to the character, we need a refresher every time Bats shows up onscreen. That trauma informs everything he is, as it would if you watched your parents gunned down in cold blood as a child, and then laid with their still warm corpses for however long until the police came. What a lot of people don’t know is the origin of Doctor Doom. Being a villain, Doom rarely gets his motivations explored outside of some megalomaniac Dr. No type f*ckery. However, Victor von Doom is a person. He started out life as a happy kid and learned to be Doctor Doom, just like Bruce learned to be Batman. Doom is actually a refugee. True, Doom was born an aristocrat, but Latveria was overthrown when he was still young so he was never able to be raised in that level of opulence. His mom was also murdered before he was ten years old. Just like Bruce, Doom experienced a horrific truth that would color his world perspective for the rest of his life. Doom would eventually find his way to the US as he was brilliant. Like, unheard of intelligent and it would be his exposure to the US lifestyle, after years of conflict and struggle, which would make him realize how easy life could be if someone just did what was necessary. And then Reed happened.

Reed Richards was, is, a fulcrum in Vic’s life. They have a relationship similar to Batman an Superman but the opposite. Whereas Batman values Clark’s perspective because it helps him keep perspective, Vic finds Reed to be absurd. He sees Reed for who e is and doesn’t understand why no one else can. Reed Richards is a reckless, excitable, short-sighted, glory-hog. He is. If you read the character with any semblance of realism, you’d see that. Ho many times has Sue comments on how she and the rest of his family, take a backseat to science? How many times has Reed, himself, sacrificed a relationship or to, in service to the solution of an equation? Doom saw all of that in college. Reed represents the structural issues of the world and it frustrates Vic to no end. In some continuities, the genesis of Vic going full Doom rest on an accident Reed commits because of that shortsightedness. It goes a long way to checking Reeds ego and he does become a better person for it, but it was at the cost of scarring Vic for life, both physically and mentally. Yet another example of the system, ruining Doom’s life.

Bruce, after his trauma, has kept a strong support system. First and foremost, since day one, he had Alfred. Doom had no one. Bruce then built a family, adopting all of the children and surrounding himself with love. Doom’s one true love died and was dragged down to hell. We know this because he punches out Mephisto whenever he can. Also, his mom is down there, too. Bruce eventually met Diana and Kal, becoming fast friends and life long confidants. Outside of Catwoman, I think Diana makes for the perfect romantic partner of Bruce and that is shown in several continuities. Reed just reinforced Doom’s disgust with the machinations of the world, eventually further degrading Doom’s tenuous hold of his ability to trust in others, by psychically maiming him. The negative impact Reed had on Doom’s life is f*cking profound, man. I’m not saying Doom should have taken it as far as he did, but it’s hard to argue against trying to kill a dude who had ruined years of your work, destroyed you reputation, and physically maimed you forever. That doesn’t seem wholly outrageous to me. I think it’s called justifiable homicide? The only reason Doom stopped trying to murder Reed is because Valeria was born. Valeria became the first person Doom felt real affection for, since the death of his wife. I think Morgan le Fay could be another, but that might have just been a time-space booty call. Valeria Richards and her relationship with he Uncle Doom, is what gave Vic the strength to be better. Bruce had that love his entire life, even immediately after his darkest day. Doom went decades without it.

Up until Valeria was born, all Doom had was his time spent as a destitute street rat, struggling to survive, to inform him about life and the world at large. That brazen cruelty for sure emotionally crippled him in a lot of ways, I'm not even going to start to defend his arrogance or superiority complex, but trauma does that. That's why i think Bats would eventually come around. They've both seen the absolute worst of the world and, in a lot of ways, go about righting those wrongs in the same way. If you pay attention, and the writer is worth their salt, you'd see that Latveria is an autocratic socialist paradise. Latverians are among the most literate, healthy, and happy people in the 616. Jobs are plentiful and crime is almost non-existent. Mans even cured cancer, which he made available to the world, if those people choose to make the trip to Latveria for treatment. The world of 616, at large, likes to paint Vic as this evil despot but, if you interview a laymen of Latveria, they’ll sing his praises. Most people forget that, before Doom returned for his birthright, Latveria was a whole ass occupied state. Think the relationship between Israel and Palestine. Latveria was basically falling into doorknobs for Symkaria and pretending that they weren’t in an abusive relationship. Doom showed up and changed all that. It was a bloody f*cking conflict, for sure, and i am certain Vic committed war crimes, but the end result was a free Latveria with a strong international presence. Doom is a hero to those people but a villain to other nations because of how he rose to power and, more importantly, how independent he made hi country from the world system. Doom did what was necessary to free his people, a march too far for Bruce and that’s why Gotham is the way that it is.

People who don’t know the character like to paint Vic as ego-maniacal villain, and that was valid when comics were just "hero smash bad guy", but we've grown beyond that. Every pop culture interpretation of Doom, outside of the comics, has him as this stoic, arrogant, asshole, dictator bu that’s just not an accurate portrayal of how Doom is in a modern capacity. Vic is definitely an autocrat but he’s no dictator. He can be cruel at times to specific individuals but he is generally benevolent to his people. He doesn’t portray himself as a strongman but he does let it be known he’ll nuke anyone or anything if it means furthering his overall goals which, currently, is the safety and security of Latveria. His country isn’t a police state and his people are free to do as they please but their is a line, just like everywhere else in the world. Doom just has a shorter one and enforces that with extreme prejudice. I’m not going to sit here and say everything is great in Latveria, it’s definitely not, but it ain’t so hot in 616 America either. How many Civil Wars have they had? What about that whole tidbit with Hydra Cap? There is nuance and gray nowadays, areas that both Bats and Doom comfortably call home. Batman is, objectively, not a pure hero. He is, at best, a chivalric anti-hero and similarly, Doom is more of an anti-villain than the mustache twirling, boogeyman, mastermind pop media portrays him to be. Batman and Doom are basically the same person, with the same motivations, only Doom is willing to go much, much, further than Bruce; A difference in method you an attribute to their respective upbringings.

If Doom had the same support system as Bruce, he’d create miracles. We’ve seen glimpses of that throughout the years. Dooms last run culminated with him essentially obliterating an entire universe where he had the support necessary to build a proper utopia. Our Doom couldn’t fathom the choices made by this variant Doom because of how broken he is. If Bruce was alone in his formative years like Victor, he’d commit atrocities. We’ve seen glimpses of that over they years, too. There are various narratives that explore just such a tragic turn of events, explored in the Death Metal series of books. Dawnbreaker immediately comes to mind. Bruce and victor are the same side of the same coins. It's literally a crap shoot as to which side of the alignment chart either leans. And as if to inform my point further, we just recently had Joker War. That book went a long way to exposing the absolute necessity of raw force, in order to properly “save”Gotham. Joker was able to completely dismantle that entire city by attacking the machinery put in lace to make it run. He effectively proved that The Batman was part of the problem and would never be the solution because Bruce doesn’t go far enough. He puts out fires but never address the sparks which start those blazes. He doesn’t go far enough. He never will. His code won’t allow him to. But Doom can. Doom did. Honestly, if you really want to keep it real, what is Bruce's endgame? What does a healthy Gotham City look like? It looks a lot like f*cking Latveria.

So to answer this question outright, i don’t think they even fight. The way this hypothetical was set up had three rounds: the first being a standard donnybrook, the second being prep time, and the last being god mode. To be perfectly honest with you, it wouldn't make it past the first round. If i had to say, with pedestrian or normie level understanding of he characters, Doom sweeps all categories. For Round one, Doom’s armor trumps all of Batman’s gadgets. For Round Two, Doom has more resources at his fingertips for prep. For Round The God Emperor Doom exists. He created several realities and killed a few Beyonders. Batman sat in a chair which gave him access to all the wisdom in the multiverse, and realized there were three Jokers. Doom all the way. My informed opinion as someone who adores both these character more than most would have me think there wouldn’t even be a conflict to begin with. I think they’d investigate the inciting catalyst, meet in person with intent to attack if necessary, size each other up until one of them made the proposal to just talk, they'd converse, and the fight would end with both of them walking away from each other with begrudging respect. Doom would admire Bruce's will and Bruce would understand the necessity of Doom's position in the world because, if you can make it make sense, Bruce will usually agree. Batman, for all of his shortcomings, is not naive to the world. He’s seen the same darkness as Doom. Doom, for all of his pompous arrogance, understands the struggle to maintain faith in those around you, even if that noble aspiration is misplaced. Bruce is one bad day away from Doom and Doom is a decades worth of days from being Bruce. They mirror each other and i think they’d see that, taking each other as cautionary tales before becoming collaborators. I don’t see them ever really becoming friends but i don't think they’d ever be true enemies.

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