#he's not really recovered from it still as his anger issues are still a thing. obviously.

[friesian]

PoF Marwyd you say? 👀

ok yall. its time. tagging @mystery-salad since i know u asked but i didn't wanna copy-paste this twice since its HUGE.

i will preface this with a cw for suicide, talk of ptsd, and dark themes. also end of HoT, LWS3, and PoF spoilers. so i'll put this hunk of text under a read more.

SO. path of fire/LWS3 marwyd.

(THANK YOU TO @herrejorn FOR CAPTURING THIS. i don't think i shared it... now seems like a good time to. maybe if people like it enough i'll post it separately.)

as i've certainly shared, marwyd was VERY head over heels for trahearne. however they were never officially a thing, and marwyd was going to confess after trahearne got back from the fleet. that. never happened. he had to kill someone he was deeply in love with, with his own two hands.

well, after all that he was pretty mortified, obviously, and i'm pretty sure up until eir's funeral he was on autopilot. his mind was really trying to just catch up. find what reality was. i think he was in a HEAVY dissociative episode waiting for trahearne's. something to give him a sense of closure. even if there wasn't a body, just a little gathering of friends would be something to him. BUT, that never happened. when eir got a funeral that he attended but not trahearne something inside of him just kinda. broke. especially when not a soul really acknowledged it at the grove except for a lone statue, placed off to the side of everything only to be seen from the peripherals of the eye. it really did something awful to him mentally.

when he attended eir's funeral, he came in a black-red-grey version of his outfit. funeral attire. however, after the funeral, he just... never took it off. he kept wearing it right into the white mantle incidents and discovering that the other two dragons were awakening.

(old screenshot i have of it, i took this during my first PoF playthrough.)

this is also the time @herrejorn 's niddhil appeared. someone who he now considers his sister. closest friend. someone who he'd easily take on the world for. he lost his best friends in HoT (at least he thought he did, turns out their souls were split and now they're in one body again! that's niddhil.) and having someone who seemed so... familiar just made him feel so more sad, depressed, he wanted to know what happened to them since they just vanished during the explosion of mordremoth's death.

well, then aurene happened, of course. she hatched. it was a spark of life. something that he realized he never knew he wanted but needed. unconditional love like that, someone who just saw him as 'dad' and would let him do simple, stupid things to keep his mind occupied like play his banjo terribly, swim in a few ponds, cook simple foods for her to try. you name it. it's his roots of his 'childhood', if you'd call it that. he really tried to teach her all the things he wished he would've known straight out of the pod and it shows. all of his effort went into her.

however, that meant during any time outside of tarir he was a mess. everything was a fucking mess when he wasn't with aurene, and he had to end up being away from her longer and longer.

all of this, combined with the world spiraling out of control with the return of balthazar just honestly sent him into a BAD bad place. then he ends up returning HOME. elonia. and it's in SHAMBLES with balthazar.

everything for him is completely out of control. thus, so is he.

he starts engaging in some RISKY shit. illicit raptor/beetle racing that is high stakes, stealing things again for the thrill, probably high off his ass most of the time, acting like a COMPLETE asshole to everyone, withdrawing into his tent more often than not. and let me tell you, when i say 'asshole to everyone' i mean it. he's desperately distancing himself as he is losing all his steam as things are just more and more wrong.

he also won't tell anyone, but his memory has been... shoddy. not sleeping may do that, but he's realizing that when he tries to think back and think about the happy times with trahearne he just can't. his face is nothing but a smudge. he KNOWS there was something there. he loved him so much, but why the HELL can he only remember the scream of his death. it keeps repeating in his mind over. it used to be that he could remember the few last words but nearing his worst all he remembers is the sound of flesh rending and screams. it won't stop either, it just loops at night.

when the big balthazar fight hits, i think he fights for the first few minutes, but honestly... i think he just gives up. straight up. he stops attempting to shoot, or if he does i think he just purposefully fires off into the air to keep balthazar coming. marwyd honestly just lies down and dies, not wanting to go on like this. and he doesn't. he does die.

he saw aurene get caught FOR HIS SAKE and did nothing. and for that he feels like everything he has is deserved.

so, my death incident essentially takes a right turn from the one in game.

sorta. essentially when marwyd arrives in the realm he just confines himself to not knowing who he is, thinking its for the best, and stays there for however long it is before he starts picking up clues. he hears things on the wind. by being the naturally curious and bullheaded guy he is, he starts finding bits and pieces... and slowly but surely it snowballs into him finally remembering everything. he can see his memories of his best friends, of aurene, of trahearne-- who he was so desperately trying to remember. and he's reminded why he fought for trahearne, for aurene, for all of his friends. as he rushes to find his way out he sees niddhil.

of course he's confused. long story short, she is the gate guardian for him, and she will test his resolve. marwyd essentially has to outsmart someone who's walked beside him from nearly day 1 as pact commander. she kicks his ass! repeatly! she is killing him repeatedly. he's stuck in a loop. time and time again he's getting himself killed, but eventually he tries something new. he waits, decides to start inventing with the scraps around the realm, picks up a metal bar stuck in a slab of concrete and uses it as a hammer. this is where he essentially learns to be a scrapper. this is what gets him past her, and when she is officially defeated, she gently takes him into her arms, tells her that it's okay, it's over... and its time to go home.

he wakes up with the guild overlooking his body. it's only been a few minutes. it'd been what felt like a month in his mind. as soon as he was on his feet, still wounded, he literally clambered onto the ship to go make sure aurene is safe in his arms. one more time.

thing is, he picks up a random giant wrench from the air ship they rode in on. said he wanted to use this, and that he had a few ideas to try. only niddhil knows why he's able to do this. he also comes up with gyros thanks to that whole experience in death. it sorta just becomes his thing.

he's revitalized in knowing that he wasn't fighting for nothing, that he's always fighting for something, and that they're here, and they care, and they maybe he just needs to give himself a little more credit. throughout him going on his self-destructive spree, and being an absolute asshole to all of them, they still cared somehow. maybe he needs to just be a little less hard on himself. maybe he needs to just. open up once.

marwyd does start doing this, luckily, but only with niddhil. she's his only confident, and they're IMMEASURABLY close after this incident. they both have a newfound respect for one another.

though, his memory is still bad, he still has those moments. he can still be a snippy asshole somedays. he's working hard on himself, and he doesn't try to put himself in too much danger. for aurene, he keeps telling himself. for aurene.

he places his brown coat and hat back on.

and off he went to kill a god.

#WOW THIS WAS A LONG ONE HUH???? #i think i could've worded a lot of this better. however i woke up with a headache so i'll give myself a pass on that one. BUT GOOD GOD. #yeah so this time in his life is when he gets Very Fucked Up! #he's not really recovered from it still as his anger issues are still a thing. obviously. #however its better! for now. he's still learning to cope. its going okay. so far. #hopefully nothing will ruin that (SARCASM SARCASM SARCASM) #marwyd

[malkaviian]

chase is not the healthiest person to get into a relationship with. and now that i developed him more, caspian definitely also isn't. managing untreated mental illness and a relationship can be a bit hard sometimes. they're doing their best because they love each other so much, though.

#oc talk #an ongoing issue on their relationship that both of them hate when its brought up its the fact none of them seek therapy #despite each other's efforts on getting the other do so. and tbf the one who provokes it is chase. he refuses to get professional help #because he feels as if he doesnt deserve it; that he was just born broken and there isnt anything left do to about him. #and cas feels is really hypocritical of him to then go and ask HIM to get help with his own issues when they even have the same diagnostic. #and also; cas yearns stability. and as bad as it sounds; the persistent sadness is something that has been 'stable' thorough his life #so hes really afraid of going to therapy and losing that. recovering is scary for him. if chase WANTED to recover then #maybe that would give him a boost + theyre together in that scary path; but he just. doesnt. he stays silent and then changes the subject #so no point on doing that all alone; despite how much chase would try to genuinely support him as much as possible if he went to therapy. #getting together was good for the both of them because at least chase can manage his anger issues a bit better #so he doesnt snaps and yells over minor things; and least tries to take care of his physical integrity and not get killed during fights lol #meanwhile cas could get over his extreme feelings towards mica and get out of that also really weird 'relationship' they had #in which he did weird and fucked up things for him. still has to dissociate hurting himself from receiving love but he is; in fact; trying. #however they got stuck. the next step is therapy with a professional and theyre not getting it; one feels he doesnt deserves it #and the other refuses to do it alone because hes scared. they really should have a serious talk about this tbh it could benefit them a lot #remind me when i wake up to update y'all about how the story between them changed a bit now that mica's on the picture

[strawbeerossi]

Anger Management

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid

Description: You and Spencer broke up months ago over him talking to someone else. Whenever she dies and he’s left to grieve, he likes to take his anger out on you until one day you have enough.

Content/Warnings: Non descriptive break up, mentions of Maeve (I’m a Maeve hater), Spencer is an asshole, Dom!Spencer, office sex, unprotected sex.

Word Count: 1.5K

Kinktober Day Nine: Hate Sex

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Spencer had always known that he was a creature of habit after learning the things he liked and disliked. He strayed from trying most new things, nor did he ever spend his time going out of his way to communicate with new people. He enjoyed his simple yet equally complicated existence. 

He had a stable job, he had a home, plus he had a huge combined family with his work colleagues. Besides you. 

Once upon a time, he loved you. The both of you spent every waking moment together at home and at work, enjoying one another’s presence and taking care of one another. Once he met Maeve, that changed though. He’d began to spend his time talking to the woman who he swore up and down was just his doctor who was helping him with his headache problems. 

The more they talked, the more you realized that had to be a bullshit lie. What kind of doctor makes her patients go to a payphone just to have a consultation or to discuss your issues? She felt like it was suspicious. They had secret conversations, things Spencer wouldn’t dare discuss after the fact. If you were honest, it pissed you off.

That was why there was an explosive fight, one where you were deciding on packing up all your shit in the apartment and you were leaving. You didn’t have to sit around and take it so you weren’t going to.

You’d transferred departments for a while after that, knowing the BAU couldn’t be home with your ex boyfriend still there. You’d moved on to Counterterrorism, which was an alright job. Paid the bills, you just preferred where you knew that you belonged.

Going for months without talking to Spencer and having no interest to, you thought you were recovering pretty well.

Until you got a call from Aaron Hotchner. Spencer was on bereavement leave and they were down an agent, which you’d briefly heard the long story of Maeve being stalked and ultimately shot in front of Spencer. He was practically begging you on the phone to come back, long enough for them to be fully staffed so cases could be solved timely and efficiently.

Which you did. It ended up with you putting in a transfer to come back to the BAU. Things went downhill after that though. Spencer was still going through the stages of grief and most of the issues and hard feelings he felt were taken out on you. He’d make sly and shitty comments regularly, things you did your best to ignore. He was grieving, it didn’t make it okay but you really did try to cut him some slack. The things he said were deep cuts, insulting your intelligence at times just to see if he could elicit a reaction.

That wasn’t the Spencer you knew, the Spencer that you loved. You just assumed that version of him was dead and buried along with Maeve. 

Today wasn’t a day to bother you though. After weeks of suffering from verbal abuse, you were tired of it. You’d woken up in a bad mood as is that morning, dreading what was to come the minute that you walked into the bullpen. A mood that Derek would jokingly say was because you just woke up on the wrong side of the bed. 

With the desk setups, it was no surprise your desk was across from Spencer’s, how lucky could you possibly be? You were looking through the stack of files you desperately needed to sort through when Spencer came in. Joy.

“You know, if you actually made forth an effort to do your job when it needs to be done, you wouldn’t have the pile of work you need to blow through.” He was getting started early, placing his satchel on the underside of his desk while retrieving a book. 

Without missing a beat, you picked up at least four of the files and tossed them carelessly onto his desk. “Then fucking help lighten the load since you are so concerned about it.” You snapped, which caught Spencer by surprise. You’ve been a quiet punching bag since he got back but here you were, snapping at him. That only fueled his fire.

“I’m not concerned about it, I’m giving you advice.” He had his own attitude while picking up the files before throwing them back to your desk. “I think you need to stop being so sensitive. It’s not a good look for you. I’m offering you advice.”

“No. You’re being an asshole and I’m getting tired of you taking every ounce of anger out on me! Who the fuck do you think you are?” You asked, hands slamming on your desk while you were pushing yourself to stand. The commotion had garnered the attention of every other agent in the bullpen, even Aaron and Dave watching from the windows of their office. You knew you’d be embarrassed later but you felt so good right now for standing up for yourself. As you stormed out of the heavy glass doors, everyone turned their attention to Spencer, who was in a stunned silence. “I’ll go talk to her.” He cleared his throat. He felt rage festering inside of him after that little display, however he kept himself grounded as he was heading out of the bullpen in search of you.

He eventually found you in one of the vacant offices, a frown on his face as he was quickly stepping inside and closing the door. “That was ridiculous.” He wasn’t here to apologize, only here to argue even more. “No, it wasn’t. I hope that I humiliated you infront of every agent in that room.” Venom dripped from your tone as you turned to face him, face red from anger. “I’m so sick of your bullshit. You think just because you lost someone that you have a right to make my life a living hell?” You asked, stepping closer to jab your finger into his chest. “Because you don’t. I’m sorry that whatever her name is died, I truly am. I’m tired of giving you a pass because I feel bad for you!” You spat.

That was the final straw for Spencer as he backed you up against the nearest wall of the office. “I knew you would try and bring her up into this!” He scoffed, both of you staring at each other in a tense silence. Within a flash, your hands were tangled in Spencer's hair while he was slamming his mouth into yours, the frustration and anger all melting into the kiss as he had you pinned to the wall behind you. “I’m so fucking sick of your mouth.” You murmured against his lips and made Spencer grunt. “Like I’m not tired of your bullshit.” He murmured, his hands quickly working on the buttons of your pants while working on tugging them down. 

The haste was returned as you were working on his belt before tossing it somewhere in the room while tugging down the pants hugging his waist. The kiss was abruptly cut off as he was flipping you around, your body now facing the wall. It was for the best that you didn’t look at him, moreso because he’d pissed you off so much that you just wanted to use him for your own relief. You deserved this, even if he didn’t. He had a similar sentiment, your panties being pulled to your mid thighs. 

The thick tip of his cock was breaching your sex without warning, mouth falling open while you were letting your forehead rest against the wall, mouth agape as his thick cock was bottoming out. “Oh, my fucking god.” 

There was no time to waste, the large hands resting against your waist while his thick cock was pistoning inside of your tight cunt, a bruising grip keeping you in place. “Fuck. How does it feel to be a useless hole? Lord knows that nobody ever wants your fucking input or opinions.” His words were low, hips roughly snapping into yours as the echo of your skin smacking together filled the empty office. 

“Spencer-” You began before one of his hands was over your mouth, muffling any attempt for you to speak. “Shut up.” He growled. You both had issues together but this encounter really symbolized that. Spencer used to be slow and sweet, hardly ever cursing or telling you some of the filthy things that had been falling from his lips. A moan was muffled against his hand while his eyes fluttered shut.

“Gonna cum. You’re gonna take everything that I give you.” His lips were against the shell of your ear, the words making your mouth fall open. With a few more thrusts, it wasn’t long until his spent was gushing deep inside of you, the feeling causing you to hit your own release shortly after. 

Instead of getting the treatment that you were used to, he was pulling out of you and pulling up his boxers and pants. “Might wanna clean yourself up.” He commented, fluffing out his hair while walking to the closed office door. 

The last thing you heard was the door open and the footsteps out of the room followed by a slam of the door. 

That was one way to get over an argument.

#spencer reid #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid fandom #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #doctor spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid criminal minds #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x gn!reader #strawbeerossi kinktober 2023

[jtl-fics]

Fluent Freshman - 38

PREV

If it weren’t for the fact that he and Riko had stumbled across a truly traumatizing video of his birth that they had watched secretly in Tetsuji’s office when he was away on a business trip one weekend Kevin would believe that he was born with an Exy racquet in his hand. But the image that is seared into his retinas to this day has proven that he came into this world empty handed.

That doesn’t change the fact that Kevin has spent the majority of his life utterly and completely submersed in Exy. He was trained as a Raven, he was court, he was a champion as both a Raven as a Fox and if he had his way he’d leave college with more Championships under the orange and white than the black and red.

Exy was everything in the world to him.

He could overlook many personality defects if someone brought something to the Court.

Apathetic five foot nothing who was more likely to stab him than shake his hand? Well, he’s the best goalie that Kevin had ever seen in his entire life (and that was saying something).

Tight ass who has anger management issues and will not shut the fuck up about his girlfriend now that he’s not even allowed to have? Well, he is a very solid backliner who has excellent ball handling skills (even if Aaron keeps telling him to stop saying it like that or why he keeps yelling that he’s straight).

Overly touchy, too emotional, will not shut the fuck up about his fiancé in Germany? Well, he is a very solid backliner who is great at rebounds (Kevin doesn’t get why Nicky gets mad when he says that or why he brings up Erik).

Guy who actively dislikes him and is dying for any chance to punch him and also being overly attached to his friends? He’s a great enforcer on the court and had the stamina to play far longer than the other two backliners (Why Dan always said “yeah he does” whenever Kevin commented on Matt’s stamina he will never understand, and he also doesn’t want to.)

Suspicious kid from Millport with a mouth that could strip paint and a past so shrouded in mystery that it even had Andrew perking up in interest? Well, he’s the fastest Striker in the game and the only person that has ever kept up with Kevin’s obsession with the sport. (There was the minor downside that he was the son of the Butcher and almost died before the championships, but Neil pulled through.)

He tolerated all of them and now they’re his best friends.

There are some who he does find personally objectionable but so long as Jack and Sheena manage to continue to be good on the court he doesn’t care about the many many faults in their personalities. They’re his teammates, they aren’t his friends.

He accepted that he might not like any of the others that came onto the team. For the most part he had never given a shit about before the Foxes, content with his brotherhood with Riko even if it wasn’t…perfect. Then he became friends with FF and FF had done him a truly large favor and Kevin wanted to pay that back the best way he knew how. Through his truly infallible health advice and through perfectly crafted smoothies.

Then Daniel appeared with the truth that FF truly met all requirements to be a Fox and Kevin tasted his own smoothie for the first time.

He considered both revelations to be equally upsetting.

Still…

FF was one of the best dealers Kevin had ever had the pleasure to be on Court with. The man knew his position well and interrupted offensives with an enviable ease that made Kevin wish to possibly strap some sort of device onto him and figure out how he did certain things.

It wasn’t that far off to believe that a man raised in the same environment as FF could possibly have similar talents and since Lisa fucked off back to some small town cult they really did need a good sub. Sheena was a good offensive dealer but they had games coming up where defense would be imperative and FF did not have the stamina for a full game and likely would not for quite some time considering he’d be recovering from being stabbed.

So, he’d defended Daniel’s right to try out.

At first, he had felt vindicated. Daniel kept up quite well during the initial warm-ups. Kept pace with Jack, Sheena, Aaron, Andrew, and Nicky. Kevin had been bringing up the rear mostly to make sure that Andrew didn’t stab the guy during warm-ups.

Then it was time for the first precision drill.

The other thing about how Kevin was raised is that he was raised surrounded only by the best of the best. The Ravens were at the top of the Collegiate hierarchy. The National Court used their stadium for practice.

The worst Exy that Kevin had ever seen in his entire life up until the moment that Daniel took hold of an Exy racquet was still only the worst team in Collegiate Division 1 Exy.

Then Kevin watched the ball go so wide that the entire court went silent.

All of the drills that followed were as bad, if not worse.

Kevin felt himself start to vibrate with anger the longer it went on. He started to shout corrections at Daniel but the younger man merely rolled his eyes, “I think I know what I’m doing.” He would say before pointedly proving that he did not.

Kevin only realized nearly an hour in that he had wasted his entire practice shouting himself hoarse at the actual waste of human life that was Daniel Stanton.

Kevin could accept being bad at Exy and having an inoffensive personality. Kevin could accept being good at Exy and having a bad personality.

Kevin could not accept being bad at Exy and having a bad personality.

Coach Wymack called the practice to an end and Kevin thought that he’d manage to keep his anger mostly inside (he is ignoring the near hour of practice he spent screaming directions) when Daniel decided to deliver the Coup de Grace.

Sweat soaking his bangs, panting, and without a single thing done correctly (even the way he was currently holding his borrowed Exy racquet set Kevin’s teeth on edge) the man had the gall, the gumption, and the absolute AUDACITY to come up to the coach.

“So, where do I sign?” he asks.

Kevin sees red and unleashes hell.

***

This was the most fun Andrew has had at a practice since he started having to come to them.

The look of embarrassment on Daniel’s face as Kevin accurately tore into everything he did wrong on the Court and every personal failing that Kevin could home in on. His attention shifted away to FF sitting in the stands near the University official who was shaking her head at the obvious poor showing. The University may have wanted Daniel around to spruce up the Fox’s marketability but even they couldn’t let someone so obviously awful onto one of their few Division 1 teams.

FF was sat sipping one of Kevin’s god awful smoothies looking completely unshocked by Daniel’s showing.

Kevin turned his attention to FF, “You said he was good!” Kevin points at the freshman as he continues to sip the drink.

Andrew interrupts, “He never said he was good.” He remembers the conversation so exactly and there are few things he loves more than having the opportunity to rub it in Kevin’s face when the man is wrong, “He said ‘Daniel has always been athletic’ never anything about him being good.” Andrew reminds.

Kevin whips back around to Daniel, “Have you ever even played Exy?” Kevin demands.

“I didn’t think it’d be hard to pick up.” Daniel argues crossing his arms defensively.

It sets Kevin off on another furious rant.

Andrew had thought that FF didn’t have a mean bone in his body and he’s quite pleased to have been proven wrong. The thought that FF had let Daniel get all the way into embarrassing himself in such a way?

Andrew had to give him props.

“How does it feel getting to watch this idiot crash and burn?” he asks coming to the glass.

“Really thought he could manage it if I could.” FF says with a shrug that has Aaron bark out a laugh.

“You really figured?” Aaron asks coming to stand next to Andrew.

FF just shrugs again, “I mean I also started not knowing how to play and now I’m on a pretty good team.” He says as if FF starting as a child not knowing how to play is the same as someone walking in demanding a spot on a college team.

Nicky lets out a laugh.

“Oh, Smithy I could kiss you.” Nicky laughs and makes his way towards the Court entrance to likely do exactly that moving past a Daniel who was so red in the face with embarrassment and anger that he looked as if he was about to turn purple.

Andrew tuned in.

“…small pond. The only reason you ever felt like you were worth anything is that Smiths was too nice to put you in your place before now!” Kevin was probably talking about medium-sized fish in a small pond but Andrew didn’t really care to know.

“Are you going to let him talk to me like this?!” Daniel finally turned to Wymack.

“Kevin, you shouldn’t talk to the public like that.” Wymack says without a hint of chastisement in his voice.

Kevin still straightened at the reminder, “You’re right. Sorry coach.” Kevin sneered at Daniel, “Get off the court before you taint it.” He hisses.

“You’re really not going to sign me?!” Daniel demands.

“Why would I?” Wymack asks with a raised brow.

“You took a chance on John!” Daniel points towards FF.

Andrew watches as Wymack’s face does something he’d rarely seen it do, it goes utterly and completely cold. “I don’t take chances with my kids.” He spat, “I give my kids a second chance. Get the hell off of my court.” He hisses.

Daniel’s face purples further before he stomped off of the Court.

“Don’t you dare walk off with that racquet! It’s worth more than you!” Kevin shouts after him and Andrew in that moment realizes that Daniel is going to do something stupid.

And FF is on the other side of the Plexiglass with only Nicky at his side.

It’s like watching a train crash.

Daniel might say something, but Andrew doesn’t know. He sees Neil rushing as well, his sense of danger always well-honed but Neil had been in Captain mode in the moments before walking some of the sophomore and freshmen through what they had done wrong.

Neither of them will make it in time.

Daniel throws his racquet, and he throws it right at FF barely 5 feet away in the stands.

The Racquet blows past FF’s head and Andrew lets out a breath.

Then before it could crash into the seats behind him and break FF’s hand wrapped around the shaft of the stick and stopped it’s trajectory.

“Your aim really isn’t getting any better by not listening to Kevin’s advice.” Smith says as he twirls the racquet in his hand so that the net was on the ground. “Also, don’t break the equipment, like Kevin said it’s pretty expensive.” He says.

Daniel let out a primal scream but where Andrew had stalled out to watch the miraculous catch Matt Boyd had not. Daniel was tackled to the ground by the backliner, “Absolutely not.” Matt said with a scowl.

“Smithy are you okay?” Andrew hears Nicky ask.

“Yeah, why?” FF asks as if he hadn’t just been attacked but considering everything that Andrew had seen it wouldn’t shock him if Daniel’s attacks were just par for the course back home for FF. “The racquet looks okay too.” He adds.

“Coach Wymack,” The University representative made their way down looking flustered at the outburst of violence.

Obviously not someone who regularly watched Exy or paid attention to their team.

“This is why I wanted absolute control over who does and who doesn’t get a shot here.” Wymack hisses pointing at Daniel as he struggled under Matt.

“You have our sincere apologies for this.” She says looking at Daniel, “He didn’t… we thought he’d be good for the team’s culture but it seems like we may have misjudged-“

“That guy just tried to take Smithy out!” Nicky interrupts.

“I told you he was dangerous.” Neil adds.

“Can someone call campus security?” Matt asks from the ground, “This jackass keeps aiming for kidney punches and I would like to not be pissing blood during winter break.” Matt requests.

“O-of course!” the University representative says fumbling for her cell phone.

Andrew looked at Matt and figured that the backliner had a handle on that particular mess at the moment.

He made his way over to FF and Nicky who was checking over the freshman.

“Nice catch.” He says.

FF shrugs, “It’s my racquet he was borrowing.” He says, “I didn’t want to get a new one.” He adds.

***

FF watches as campus security took custody of Daniel as he continued to spit and scream. There are talks about pressing charges, but FF just wants Daniel off of the campus and away from him. It’s Jack of all people who says that getting a restraining order is a great way to make sure Daniel stays the hell away from him and FF nods consideringly.

Honestly, he’s still mostly in shock he managed to catch his racquet the way he had. His reflexes weren’t quite up to snuff since he’d been trying to catch the netting, but his hand only closed around the shaft.

Embarrassing.

He really hopes no one teases him about his slower reflexes.

“He needs to be charged for assault at least.” Kevin hisses as they watch the security officers take Daniel away.

“It’d be attempted assault.” Aaron corrects.

“He assaulted my eyes with his Exy.” Kevin insists.

“If that counted as assault, don’t you think I would have pressed charges for all the times I have had to see you dance at Eden’s?” Neil asks. “Also, you’re the one that insisted he try-out.” He reminds.

“Smiths told me he was good!” Kevin screeches.

“No, we’ve been over this Day. Smithy said he was athletic.” Nicky reminds. “Are you going to do what Jack suggested?” he asks turning to FF.

“I’d like to see significantly less of Daniel.” FF admits.

“You know he did actually commit assault, if I pee blood I’m making Kevin go buy me pads.” Matt says.

“Whatever.” Kevin says as they continued to make their way back to the dorm to get ready for the day.

MASTERPOST FOR ALL PARTS OF FLUENT FRESHMAN AU

NEXT

#Fluent Freshman AU #Up next is the Winter banquet and Winter break #looking forward to that as well #I'd like to thank Snow for their help with some decisions made in this chap #and declunkifying some of my phrasing #I would also like to thank the new Jujutsu Kaisen OP for being a banger #also Unfathomed Force from Trails to Azure OST for continuing to be a banger #Grandma Smith is heading home in the next part which makes me sad even if she hasn't featured a lot in the drafts since the hospital #Daniel absolutely ends up punching a security guard #And ending up in like a holding cell at a real police station #He has one call #And he calls Smith's number demanding he come and help him get out #too bad the only number he has is a phone sitting in Wymack's desk #Guess someone else is gonna have to come and pay bail and help Daniel outta there #also my apologies for putting Daniel on u Elle Woods but it's for the meme #Also also I would like to give a shoutout to Matt Boyd who made the 'save of the day' #Its an award usually for goalies but u da real MVP today #AFTG #AFTG OC #AFTG AU #FF - 38

[johnnycakesb14de]

ICKS THE GREASERS WOULD GIVE

(sorry not sorry y'all)

DARRY

Would get mad a Ponyboy and if you stand up for him (if he's being unreasonable) he'll get even more mad and yell at you

Anger issues and takes it out on you (NEVER EVER physically) and will apologize eventually but still makes you feel bad

Unknowingly gaslights you by saying things like "your acting unreasonable." Or "your being crazy."

SODAPOP

Completely fucking oblivious to girls flirting with him because he's so used to it and won't realize it til you tell him

Will be closed off if you give him a vague discription of what you're doing or where you're going because of sandy

PONYBOY

Can genuinely just be a bitch like if he's in a bad mood he's like me on day two of my period

Also he won't say anything about it he'll genuinely just be a cunt

You've definitely had to walk out on his silly business once

Scared the shit out of him tbh

JOHNNY

I genuinely can't think of anything for him

He's just like doesn't radiate anything bad

Maybe he like keeps things from you like how he's feeling

Or where he's sleeping that night because he doesn't want you to feel bad for him

In the end still not really a ick

Flirts with other girls to make you upset if you made him upset

Totally not afraid that your gonna do what Sylvia did to him so he totally doesn't accuse of it occasionally

Smokes a lot and doesn't plan on stoping

Lacks communication skills

Everything he did to cherry at the drive in

My man y'all ❤️❤️❤️😻😻😻😻

TWO-BIT

Jokes at inappropriate times and will not stop

Will make jokes about things you haven't mentally recovered from

Achollic and refuses to admit it

STEVE

Mean like literally

Can be too rough at times and doesn't understand it

Like he'll hold your hand or something and just squeeze it way to hard and if you tell him to stop he'll say your being a baby

IM SORRRYYYYYT

#the outsiders #johnny cade #dally winston #johnnycake #ponyboy curtis #sodapop curtis #the outsiders fanfiction #darry curtis #steve randle #the outsiders headcanons #the outsiders ponyboy #the outsiders preferences #the outsiders sodapop #the outsiders movie #the outsiders fanfic

[ashe-studies]

things i wish the sonic franchise brought back or implement.

.

Dark Sonic

seriously, i love imagining a fight between Dark Sonic and Eggman inspired by Korra vs. Zaheer ( when she was poisoned ). where he loses the cool attitude, the smile, everything, and goes in with full power, charging himself left and right at Eggman. it'd be even more fascinating to still have Dark Sonic lose. not because of his lack of power, not because of lack of skill, even when blinded by rage, but because of Eggman's ingenuity.

a lot of people, to this day, misinterpret Dark Sonic as a murderous, rampaging monster, but that completely misses the purpose of why he exists to begin with. i believe this is a case of people not exactly knowing where he comes from, or just a lot of fans drawing a murderous Sonic and it took the internet by storm one day, but just in case you don't know:

Dark Sonic is from Sonic X, a TV show that is sort of an expansion on Sonic Adventure 2, adding more lore, character arcs, and overall meaning to the game's original plot. Dark Sonic was revealed in the episode "Teasing Time" in s3, and the reason he appeared is because he discovered his friends ( Cosmo and Chris ) were injured and that one of them ( Chris ) was unconscious.

the whole reason this form exists is Sonic's love for his friends essentially fueling his rage. it's like Darkspine Sonic from SATSR, or has similar formula. Dark Sonic isn't inspired by any bloodlust or desire to kill, but rather by burning anger at seeing his friends be put in harm's way.

Dark Sonic is made from the strong desire to protect his friends.

2. An Actual Arc For Shadow

you guys might be confused, especially if you consider some of my previous posts, but lemme explain.

for a long time, it's never felt like Shadow has actually recovered from his trauma, atone for his actions ( yes, i understand he saved Earth ), or live life really at all. it doesn't help that, to this day, SEGA continues to make Shadow relive the past.

i don't consider the movies to be a part of the problem, as Shadow being introduced to the plot was basically a given, and you can't introduce him in your own take without his general backstory ( unless you're Boom or Prime, i guess ). i believe the movie will be doing taking some creative liberties to his story, as they did so with Sonic, Tails, and Knuckles, and i see no reason that they should stop.

the reason why i have an issue with this is because it's an ongoing issue within the games, specifically. Shadow the Hedgehog ( 2005 ) was a disservice to his setup and the 'first arc' ( considering he's still alive after the fans demanded his return ) to his story.

aside from it just giving 'early 2010s deviantart edge', it's just so...

childishly handled.

for one, you're immediately given a Hero or Dark route, like in SA2, which i feel completely misses the point of SA2's true ending. Shadow has redeemed himself ( or began to ), so to give him complete reign to just become an antagonist all over again defeats the whole purpose of a redemption.

it's like what Prime did with Dread, giving him an already established redemption arc ( sort of ), but then corrupting him again for no real reason other than just because.

another issue i have is Shadow's amnesia and attitude in general within the game. technically speaking, yes, it does make sense for him to suffer memory and // or physical issues from his fall from space, but to completely wipe out every single thing he did just to give him the opportunity to relearn his past, do some fucked up shit, do some less fucked up shit, then throw away everything in the past, Maria and her wish included, is...

amazingly obtuse, for lack of a better word.

again, while it's technically not out of bounds, i feel like giving Shadow complete and total amnesia just disrespects SA2's vision and execution of the story. it's redundant, it's lazy, and overall just really damn frustrating to watch.

Shadow deserves to have a story that allows him to heal from his trauma, discover who he is, and respecting Maria's wish along the way. a lot of people seem to think it's either he forgets about his past ( or buries it ) or full-on dedicates his entire life and doesn't bother picking up a life lesson or two, but it doesn't have to be that way.

Shadow can heal, grow, and change. SEGA just won't let him.

3. The Echidna Tribe & Knuckles' Story

Knuckles is one of my favorite characters in the entire franchise as a whole, but his character and story is sorely dismissed. while Shadow has the issue of repetition, Knuckles suffers from being dropped on the head multiple times and played for a joke ( i think Frontiers is one of the more recent games that didn't do this, but i might be wrong ).

one of the reasons why i love Knuckles is how straightforward, yet reluctant he was about finding out his past. at the end of Sonic Adventure 1, he says something to the extent of:

"maybe i'm better off not knowing the meaning behind all of this. because i feel something terrible will happen if i do."

he is content being ignorant for the sake of his own peace of mind.

but in SA2, he's more or less forced to start facing his fear and learn more about the past. unfortunately, though, we don't actually get to see much after this game, because the tribe is almost entirely forgotten. instead, it's brought up in comics that are more or less canon ( i think ), but not fully aligning with the games. i think it's safe to say the comics are their own canon?

like with Shadow, i would've loved to see an actual conclusion on this arc of Knuckles' story. to see more of the tribe in the past, of their wrongdoings, character moments, more of Tikal or Chaos or the little Chao, and how it all ties together.

but instead, we have lots of media repeatedly insulting Knuckles' intelligence, ignoring his tribe and // or his job entirely ( i guess they forget the Master Emerald is portable? ), and just generally dumbing him down to be a hotheaded moron that apparently doesn't care about being the Guardian!

Knuckles is one of the most relatable characters in this series for me, as there's a lot of things i would rather not know and stay ignorant to, but have to face head on in order to fully move past it and grow to be better.

he was completely isolated on Angel Island for so long, yet people still make fun of him to this day for being manipulated by Eggman in SA1 ( even though he didn't even fully believe Eggman, it was just a precaution, but who cares about the details- ). he's not just a hothead, he's strong, he's kind, he's pretty blunt and, honestly, really fucking adorable, i love this echidna.

look at him, just standing there. i love him.

anyway, Knuckles deserves a proper story surrounding his tribe, his identity as the Guardian of Angel Island, his relationships, and to have a satisfying conclusion. or, at the very least, more games or media in general not dumbing him down to an angry hothead with nothing better to do but to yell and ignore his responsibilities.

3. Sonic

"what're you talking about, ashe? sonic's meant to be a flat character! what could be wrong with him?"

yeah, but after frontiers, i want more mentally ill sonic that needs to be concerned for by his friends, okay, that's all i want-

4. Storybook Era

now, now, i know a lot of people don't like the storybook games because of their shoddy gameplay and all that, but i genuinely love these games, their flaws included.

i do believe satbk has a better story than satsr, but i still have an attachment to the latter game, so suck it.

it'd be really nice to see a storybook game with switch, xbox, ps, or similar controls. as the era has Sonic diving into different worlds, maybe a world like Alice and Wonderland could be an interesting game. several elements to work with, locations turning into creative levels or even hub worlds. this is sort of a long shot dream that will probably never exist, but i wanna see an adventure-style storybook game one day.

i'll probably die before that idea is even considered, but it's a fun thought and that's all that matters at the end of the day.

there's no real big reason as to why these matter or anything, as i don't believe you need a storybook in order to send off the messages these games try to give, but they're just really charming to me and i love to see how this type of game could be implemented into video games today, with all the new engines and whatnot.

5. Teams

oof, okay, um-

there's a few games that have teams in them, and i guess you can count sonic forces as one of those games, so i should be more specific here.

i like SA1's flexibility with the roulette-like system, where you could play as any character you wished, but i also like SA2's team system, where they all had a close-knit role within the story from a similar perspective ( hero vs. dark ).

SA1 served multiple perspectives, all giving you pieces of the same puzzle that you have to figure out as you go. by the final story, all of the characters ( except Big, but idc, i love him ) have their character arcs and it's with their changes that the story is fully complete.

SA2 served the entirety of two perspectives and merged them together for the final story, heroes and villains having to work together to fight off the greater evil at hand.

overall, i want more games having the characters work together, having different details // information or even moral differences ( it depends on which system they go with, though ) on the situation at large, but maybe still having to come together.

whether or not they use official teams, i want the sonic franchise to bring back using other characters as necessary plot points with their own individual arcs.

it may not be needed, per say, as there's still a few games that work and don't have either of these systems, but i really miss the adventure games and wish for more of their elements to be implemented in future games.

6. CHAO!!!

BRING THESE LITTLE CREATURES BACK, GODDAMN, WHY ONLY TWO GAMES?!

.

anyway, that's all i can currently think of. i think these would serve either character or charm to the franchise, but maybe you have some other ideas of what the games could give! maybe proper returns of characters, other forgotten stories, or even new ideas!

lemme know what you think.

#sonic the hedgehog #sonic adventure #sonic adventure 2 #sa1 #sa2 #dark sonic #sonic #shadow the hedgehog #shadow #knuckles the echidna #knuckles #team sonic #team dark #team rose #team chaotix #chao #chao garden

[shiny-kaibernyte]

Ooo is it ok if u write a drayton x reader where reader is really reckless and always takes on challenges such as doing 7 star terra raids and goes off on different adventures, and he gets worried and protective and the rest of the bb elite 4 find it cute and funny

Hope this is what you asked for. I'm kinda bad at writing this stuff 😅

Tag along | Drayton x Reader

Pokémon Scarlett and Violet Indigo Disk DLC Spoilers ahead!

After one to many raids where you get hurt. Drayton decided to finally ask you to let him come with you. Though things didn't go exactly as he had hopped.

Warnings: Small argument, Fluff, protective Drayton

SPOILER WARNING: No spoiler warning. Unless you don't know character names

“Drayton, I'm not so sure about this…” Your voice cut through the silence of the BB League room. Drayton had asked you completely out of the blue to let him tag along on your next raid. Which happened to be a black crystal 7star. “You’ve never even done a raid before.”

Leaning against the table, he simply turns his head and smiles, his pearly fangs flashing at you for a moment before pleading his case. “So? I’m a fast learner, I have good Pokémon too, gave you a challenge, didn’t I? Plus, you make one hell of a teacher.”

“True I do.” A snarky smile crosses your face for a moment, the sound of Crispin snickering in the corner at the self-confidence. “But even if I could show you about raid battling. I'm going to a 7 star… these aren't exactly teaching material. Especially given what's inside the crystal.”

“What’s inside? A larger than average Scorbunny? If so Drayton really should go.” Lacey teased, prodigy Drayton’s face with a gleeful smile. His own face scowled slightly at the remark.

“Maybe it’s an angry Trapinch coming back to taunt him! That would make for a spicy dish!” Crispin added, spinning his pan around.

Drayton’s head snapped up, and he stared at his fiery friend. “We do not talk about the Trapinch man! My ass still has NOT recovered from it… neither had my ego.”

“Think more… giant psychic mouse thing with serious anger issues.” You admit holding back the laugh that just wanted to leave your lungs.

“Well, that wasn’t what I expected… But hey! That's never stopped me before. Don’t forget which one of us helped you with the legendary hunt.” Drayton pestered, still clutching onto any string he can, to convince you to let him come. Anything to give him that edge up on you, if the dragon egg eyes won’t work. Then good old fashion pleading will have to do - and he’s about 5 seconds from doing that.

“Drayton, I love you, but I can't bring myself to let you come with me on this one! If it was a 4 star then yeah totally. But this is huge! These sorts of raids, I can't bring someone so inexperienced into the palace. I wouldn’t even bring Kieran!” You argued, it was no surprise that your pleas fell upon stubborn ears.

“That’s exactly why I want to go with you! It pains me whenever you come back from one of your raid trips hurt… or bruised. And I can't help but think to myself that I could have done something to help you. Take the load off of you!” His voice cracked slightly, not out of sadness or hurt, but more out of the fact he couldn’t do something to protect you. Drayton knows you can handle yourself, you’ve proven that to him on many occasions. But at the end of the day, you are still his treasure, and he wants to protect you, needs to. “Just let me come along this once! If I cause you problems, I’ll never ask again, just please humour me.”

Before you could even give him a response, Lacey’s voice cut through the tension, it was soft-spoken but clear. “Come on, let him… let him.”

“SHHH. It’s getting good…” Crispin's equally soft voice cut after hers, somehow eating popcorn. Where did he get that, why are you asking? He’s the chef, not me.

“Can you four stop bickering. You are ruining my concentration.” Amary’s scolded, the sound of her pocket watch snapping closed followed her voice. “In case you 3 have forgotten, we have a meeting to get to with the director. You have 5 minutes, don’t be tardy.” 

Amary’s left the room not long after. The 4 of you left dumbfounded in the room, it wasn't until Drayton’s voice chimed up again. “Okay, I was not the only one who had no idea she was in the room, right?”

“I think she spawned in?” Crispin answered with a question of his own.

“How long has she been here? I've been here all morning? Did she drink an invisibility potion… What does she know that we don’t?” Lacey’s brain scratched as well.

“I think it's like a Spinarak thing. If you stand still, they can’t see you.” Your fellow companions laugh at your remark, it's a dumb reason, but what isn’t. During the laughter, you take your chance to leave. Grabbing your bag and heading for the door, only for the sound of it shutting in your face to follow. Peering up, you notice Drayton’s somehow moved from the other side of the room to close the door. His face was one of worry. He couldn't keep eye contact with you, anytime he tried, he just looked back at the door then at you again; as if silently asking you to let him come with you. His face reminded you of the first time he admitted he loved you. That silent protective plea of his. Never spoken through words. With a deep sigh of defeat, you take a step back from the door and stretch your hand out towards it. “After you, dragon boy.”

“YES! I WIN!” Drayton proclaimed jumping up for a moment fist in the air victorious. Lacey elbowed him directly in the ribs moments later, Crispin crying of laughter on the floor trying desperately not to whack himself in the face with it. “Ow right, right. Thank you, love! NOW LET'S GO KICK SOME MOUSE BUTT!”

#pokemon #pokemon dlc #pokemon indigo disk #dlc #pokemon spoilers #drayton #drayton pokemon #kieran #drayton x reader #clingy duo #clingy #fanfic #pokemon sv spoilers #protective #tera raid #tera raid battles #scarlet and violet #angst #pokemon fanfiction #fluff #gn reader #video games #pokemon x reader #x reader #gaming #gale of waterdeep

[yuesya]

Sorry if you've answered this already but what's Ayase's relationship with Ayaka/Ayato like?

Ayase had always been quiet and reserved.

… Perhaps it was only natural. His older sister had been born with a frail constitution, one that resulted in her being secluded and withdrawn from the rest of the world for the sake of her own health. In his childhood, Ayato remembers his parents gently telling him to be mindful of her body and her wellbeing. To make sure not to disturb Ayase. It’s important for Ayase to rest properly, and not overexert herself.

Ayato does as his parents bid him. He hopes that the medicines are working, and he prays that his sister’s body will recover fully one day.

Perhaps it’s due to the isolation, but his sister is… difficult to interact with, in the beginning. Sometimes, the way she looks at Ayato –it’s like her gaze slides right over him. And it’s…

It’s…

…

There’s a vivid image that he remembers, even now: Ayase sitting on the engawa, wearing nothing more than a threadbare yukata despite the chill of the autumn wind. Pale white hair cascades down her back, long strands thrown up into the air by the passing wind, and she turns around at the call of her name–

His sister had looked at him, and her gaze had been detached, empty. Ayato hadn’t recognized it at the time, but it had sent a distinct chill down his back nonetheless.

… Things change, as the seasons pass. Ayato persists in visiting his sister as often as he can, and eventually Ayase loses the distant look in her eyes. One day, Ayase stands up and starts walking around the house like a perfectly normal person, as if she hadn’t been bedridden for years–

Their mother had burst into tears that day, clutching at Ayase. Ayase had looked at her with a faintly befuddled look, as if she didn’t understand what was happening. Then, slowly reached out to return their mother’s warm embrace.

Ayaka doesn’t remember a period of time when her sister was a distant, detached figure in their family. But Ayato does. So when a glimmer of that same something returns to her eyes as she stands before the downed form of their uncle, blade raised high in her hand–

She’ll really do it, Ayato realizes, before anyone else in the room catches on to what’s about to happen. Their uncle is still seething, too focused on his own anger and humiliation at his defeat to notice anything amiss. The onlookers are still stunned by Ayase’s victory, the unexpected triumph of a delicate seventeen year old girl over her uncle more than two decades her senior in a trial by combat. None of them see it–!

Which is why it falls to Ayato to do something, here and now before Ayase kills their uncle in cold blood front of the entire Kamisato Clan. Ayato shoots to his feet before he even realizes it, his body moving instinctively before his mind catches up with his body.

“Sister!”

Ayase tilts her head, a clear indication that she’s listening to him despite the fact that she hasn’t turned to look at him.

Good.

“Sister,” Ayato continues, more calmly now that he knows he has her attention. “Our uncle challenged your right to headship of the clan in a trial by combat, and lost. You’ve proven your strength.”

An overwhelming victory. So you don’t need to kill him.

“It’s not enough,” his sister says. Ayase’s voice is calm, indifferent.

… Ayato needs to change her mind. Because their uncle might be an opportunistic schemer, but he still plays an important role in the Kamisato Clan. And right now, with the death of their parents and the pressure that their clan is facing from external forces, they really don’t need to add internal issues to the situation. Such issues would most definitely arise, if Ayase killed their uncle.

“But it will suffice,” Ayato tells her. Then, “Please.”

Please listen to me.

You are head of the Kamisato Clan, now. Ayase, please…

For a moment, his sister is silent.

Then, she lifts her blade from where it’s pointed at their uncle, and finally turns away. But their uncle takes this as opportunity, his hands closing around his own sword as he raises it and lunges at her back–!

“Sister!”

A deafening thunderclap resounds through the room, like a lightning strike –no, there is lightning. Coils of electric energy dance over the wooden flooring in wild, erratic arcs, and Ayato forces himself to look despite the blinding light, heart heavy in his throat–

Their uncle lies on the ground in eight different pieces, and Ayase’s sword is red with blood. Lightning crackles around his sister, and there is a glowing purple orb that floats atop her hand.

A Vision.

#QA #zenith of stars au #genshin impact au #Writing #ayase does not adjust to this whole 'reincarnating in another world' thing very well in the beginning #but she eventually adjusts #with the help of her family #and her lovable little siblings #she's not always the best with how she expresses things though #oops

[cupcakeslushie]

How would the relationship between Casey and separate Leo would look like?

Regarding Future Leo, he’s still Casey’s favorite sensei and father figure, but Casey is pretty shocked to come to the past and see Leo without all the years of patience that came from leading a resistance—which over many years tempered his anger and bloodlust. The family couldn’t protect Casey from seeing Leo like that completely, so Casey did witness his Sensei have a few bad episodes, especially on the battlefield. And he sort of remembers Leo was really bad off when Raphael died, it’s still a shock to see Present Leo be so quick to suggest murder, even if it’s villains. For the most part Future Leo was an inspiring leader, able to unite what little of humanity and yokai remained no matter how bad things got. Also he was always super embarrassing regarding anything to do with Usagi or Casey.

Present Leo, on the other hand, is stubborn and quick to anger, ruthless and petty. He doesn’t trust Casey and is very protective of anything he thinks might be a danger to his family. He’s only a few months recovered from his time trapped in the Kuroi Yuroi so he’s extra paranoid. Most importantly, Leo’s not yet figured out his role in the family, and is still on shaky ground with Raph and Splinter. It’s certainly not as bad as it was before, but in trying to be a better brother and son, it’s made him almost more awkward than when he and Raph were always arguing and Splinter had to walk on eggshells. Plus, even though Leo and Usagi have grown closer and resolved most of their issues, the two are in the “ally/friend” stage of their relationship. That’s probably the weirdest part for Casey. His two dads not being all lovey dovey and nauseating at every opportunity.

#rottmnt #ask slushie #separated au #rottmnt separated au #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise leo #rise casey jones #sep!au movie

[stomach-bugg09]

hiii,i saw that requests ante open and was wondering if we can get a fali fic? 🫢 I don’t really mind/have a preference for what it’s about but maybe angst with some fluff at the end??? idek you’re the writer so you can choose, that’s basically it, and btw your fics are lush!! i love themm

thankyouuu <3

a/n: okay, hey !! took me a lil bit to ponder this idea and what would be the best approach , but i think this suits it with a lil bit of angst and then some comforting fluff. thanks so much for the kind words !! please, please, please comment feedback + reblog ( everything's easier when you have the motivation of your readers )

summary: fali is recovering from the bullet he took to save neteyam, but he's never been very patient.

tags: @rafeslovergirl @wxnderingthoughts @liyahsocorro @bonnibuckets @hjkshshjkhklhkl @theycallmesia @grierpilots @23victoria @nyotamalfoy @gcldtom

healing is hard

after eighteen years of existing, fali was never once considered patient. even when young, his mother could recall the numerous times where she scolded the poor na’vi for not waiting for her or his father before he dove right into the reef. she could also recall the way her heartbeat would flare when he let out a mischievous feat of laughter followed by a loud splash.

she had to say, though, that she would much prefer those small spikes of fear over the moment in which she witnessed tsireya speeding back atop her ilu, a limp body draped in front of her. 

vi’ieo and fpai had just been discussing the whereabouts of their son in concerned, hushed tones when they heard the olo’eyktan’s daughter yell, “help! it is fali!”

nothing could prepare either parent for the rush of nausea and dread that flooded their bodies at those four words; if they weren’t thankful for ronal beforehand, they owed their lives to her. no mother wants to experience the unforgiving event that it the loss of a child.

not again, at least. not after they lost what was supposed to be their first baby girl just before she was born. 

but now… now fali was okay. or, getting to it, at least. he was alive, and he was healed, but he still hurt. every movement he made, everytime he attempted to go through with tasks that he used to consider as easy if not daily.

he couldn’t even walk to the edge of the shore and back without help from someone else.

after being raised the only child of his parents and the supposed older brother to tsireya and ao’nung ( and then eventually rotxo ), fali picked up so many subconscious habits. he was reliable, he was independent, he was strong. now he was reliant, dependent, weak. he didn’t feel like fali te auahi fpai’itan.

everybody around the healing na’vi felt his frustration. they felt this sadness, his mourning of who he used to be. they felt the anger that surged through his body at the limited movement his left arm and leg now possessed after the bullet just barely impacted his spine enough to cause mobility issues.

it hurt. it hurt him, it hurt them, it hurt everyone.

and fpai and vi’ieo also missed the child he used to be. the child he was before he grew up, the child he was before he became the warrior, the child he was before they let war touch him. before they let war hurt him. but, they would forever be grateful for his mere survival above all else.

while fali saw their perspective, while he recognized the blessing that was his life, he was so sick of it. he was so sick of being thankful, of being gracious for eywa. he wanted his life back! he wanted his arm and leg back! for all he knew, fali would never even see battle again — he would never see the thing that he spent his entire childhood training for.

an impressive warrior whose skills were wasted on an avatar’s stupid bullet.

while everyone else tried to push a positive perspective onto the angry and healing na’vi, [y/n] knew better. she knew that wasn’t an option — not based on his personality, at least.

was she happy he was still alive? well, of course! in fact, she often jumped awake in the middle of the night and pressed a hand to his chest from where she slept right next to him, checking that he was still breathing. checking that he was still there.

but, [y/n] could never expect him to share the same exact outlook that she did, and she could never pretend to understand what he was struggling with. that would just be a lie, and she could never lie to him. not to her love.

so, instead of trying to get him to rest every time he stood up, instead of stopping him before he limped out of the marui, she gave him a soft smile and a nod. and then, of course, a wink followed by words meant only to push buttons ( which would hopefully only motivate him to success ), “scream if you need anything.”

he would roll his eyes, waddle out, and after about five minutes, [y/n] would be outside the marui. her eyes would be caught on his figure in the distance, oftentimes leaned up against a tree or paused while trying to catch his breath.

sometimes, although her heart shattered the most during these moments, he would be paused with his makeshift cane in hand, back hunched as sobs echoed through the breeze.

but [y/n] knew better than to barge in. she knew that, as much as every part of her body and soul itched to go and help him — to insist that it would be okay — it was only up to fali to decide whether or not that would be true.

it was only once, though, that [y/n] came running to him.

he’d been walking, small grunts of frustration heard all the way from where [y/n] stood. her gaze was soft against his back full of tattoos, scars, and muscles that she knew all too well.

and then, in a split second, everything broke.

the na’vi before her let out a yell of fury before throwing his cane into the sand, knees shaking as he fell onto them. the soft, wet sand was imprinted with his weight, allowing him to dip an inch shorter. 

[y/n] feet started moving before her mind did, practically running down the wooden docks and through the sand. the squishy substance tickled between her toes at each new step, until eventually she strut right past the tearful na’vi and grabbed his cane.

she spun around on her heel, looking him right in the eye, and she extended her arm towards him. the long piece of drift wood he’d adapted to be his mobile assistant faced him in an offering.

but, just as fali reached up and attempted to take it from [y/n]’s hand, she pulled it away and threw it about ten feet to her right.

stunned, fali blinked at her. “[y/n],” he gasped, shocked. “what are you —”

“get up.”

[y/n] voice was solid, firm. authoritative. all of sudden, fali couldn’t take his glassy eyes away from her, jaw dropped in complete shock due to her attitude. what was she up to? “[y/n],” he tried again, voice soft and shallow due to the sobs that sat at the base of his throat.

she merely shook her head at her healing lover. “no,” she refused. “no, you’re going to get up.”

“i —” he paused, checking his words carefully. “[y/n], what are you doing?”

[y/n] locked his eyes, not once making an effort to assist him in any form. “i’m telling you to get up. get on your feet and walk.”

once more, fali opened his mouth, but this time… this time it shut in a pregnant bubble of silence. instead of arguing any more than he already had, he placed two hands on the ground and attempted to push upwards.

and then, just like that, fali was back in his own head. not once did he realize, as he pushed himself over the edge, that he wasn’t alone, and yet… for the first time ever since he started leaving every afternoon to try and make progress… he was finally able to do it.

by himself.

but he wasn’t by himself. [y/n] was there right next to him, words of encouragement flooding from her lips with every noise of desperation or anguish. everytime he even made a signal of falling back down, more words spilling right into his ears.

and soon, before he even knew it, he was standing. by himself.

and his arms were wrapped around the familiar body of [y/n]. the same warmth he adored every night. the same build that made him feel safe. the same na’vi that made him rethink every part of his life.

he could have never made it without her. anywhere. not just to a new point in his recovery, but he couldn’t have made it to the person he considered himself to be then.

fali without [y/n] would be the same arrogant na’vi that pushed ao’nung’s buttons. the same na’vi that made dumb decisions. the same na’vi who prided himself only on his abilities on the battlefield.

with [y/n], he finally realized there was so much more to himself than he ever knew or knew to recognize.

he pressed his face into [y/n]’s hair, the soft strands soaking up his salty tears of joy. his shoulder shook every so slightly, and fali could feel [y/n]’s own trembling body.

it’d been so difficult.

“i’ve been wanting to help, you know,” [y/n] sniffed into his chest. “i just knew it wouldn’t have helped. the last thing i wanted to do was make things more difficult.”

fali swallowed. “i know, yawne, i know.” his voice was quiet, barely above a whisper. he couldn’t manage to summon anything louder, for he was world this beauty of a reality would disintegrate into a dream.

“but,” she continued softly. “i also knew you needed to be open to help. help from me, help from your parents, help from everyone. you can’t do everything alone.”

fali paused, silence overcoming them as he thought. she was right, of course, but he hated that idea. he was already vulnerable with his injuries. the last thing he wanted was pity from anyone else.

“i just…” he trailed. “i’m scared.”

[y/n]’s heart broke, her breath hitching in her throat at the big confession. “that’s okay.” she looked upwards, eyes locking between the two. “it’s okay to be scared.”

“what if i don’t get better?” he admitted, tears creating shiny streaks against his blue cheeks. “what if this is it? what if i can’t fight anymore?”

and then, as shocking as  it was to fali, a laugh bubbled from [y/n]’s throat. he gave her a quizzical look and asked, “what’s funny?”

“well, it’d be fine by me, is all,” she admitted, a smile resting on her lips. “i like it better when i know you're safe and not at war.”

he couldn’t help but feel a smile rise to his own mouth as well. “well, you’d still be fighting.”

she gave him a look that read duh before continuing. “plus, if you do learn to lead the village from the interior… you could be at home.” she paused, shrugging. “if we ever wanted a family and all.”

fali paused, looking into her eyes deeply. suddenly, all he could feel was his stupid grin. “and you couldn’t stay home and care for the kids?” “we’d get a babysitter.”

fali let out a loud laugh, leaning his head down and kissing her square on the lips. “maybe eywa made a good decision.”

#avatar the way of water #neteyam sully #loak sully #sully family x reader #sully family x y/n #tuk sully #tuktirey #kiri sully #sully siblings x reader #neytiri sully #sully!reader #lo'ak x sister!reader #avatar 2 #fali x reader

[komoboko]

𝐀𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐲

sanemi shinazugawa x gn!reader ・major manga spoilers ・heavy angst ・hurt no comfort ・major character death (reader) ・can be read as platonic or romantic

Ignore how i forgot to write.. muichiro is next on my angst hit-list

Shinazugawa has never been able to properly handle grief in his life.

Not that he hasn’t experienced grief, it’s been something that’s been torturing him throughout his entire life. Starting from a young age even up until the presence he never was able to properly heal or to ever express how he feels. Sanemi’s emotional response has been broken ever since the start. Despite his overwhelming issue, sanemi copes by pushing the blame and pushing his emotions to the problem. Swallowing down any agony he feels and channeling that into anger, and every time the perpetrator is the same every single time.

Demons. A force of nature foreign to the land only brought to bring destruction, pain and sufferings. Sanemi absolutely hated demons. There’s many things around him that cause him agony but nothing could ever surpass the torture that demons have brought to his life. Maybe it’s punishments for the acts he’s committed but the people that demons have slaughtered and taken away from him were innocent. They had done nothing to deserve their fate, and sanemi can’t help but blame himself.

When you came into his life sanemi tried to push you away. He didn’t mind his presence but he knew the risk of letting others get closed to him. He thought you would get the memo soon enough and just give up on him, decide he was a lost cause. He was more than surprised when you proved him wrong. You stayed with him even after his attempts to try and push you away. He was still himself, quite brash with his less than kind words but you could tell he was starting to lean in. Breaking down the walls he put up and deciding to embrace your presence instead of pushing you away again.

The more you stick around with him the better he began to feel. While it was hard to tell, you could see how much he was really beginning to get comfortable with you. You taught him how to heal.

“It’s okay for you to not be okay you know? You really don’t have to always suck it up.” You blurt out looking down at your feet as you sit on the bench with Sanemi right by your side. He only looks up at you after you say that as his eyes shine with confusion.

He opens his mouth to object but no words come out. He takes a beat trying to think of what to say as he continues to look towards your direction. You take his silence as another opening to continue your point.

“I know you’ve gone through alot and i know your learning to move on but you can never recover bottling up your feelings like that.” You say continuing on with you point. “Think of it likes this, your experience are like an open wound and those hurt. You can leave them alone to close alone but that will take more time and more pain. Or you can treat them, releasing the pain and speeding up the healing process much quicker.”

Sanemi stares at you before he scoffs, looking away as. “Wounds can still become scars.” He mutters as your eyes drift back over to look at his.

“Yeah, just because scars don’t go away doesn’t mean they never have healed before.” You reply seeing Sanemi’s face soften looking back at you once more. “Whatever you say.” he mumbles as you chuckle at his reply.

Sanemi’s memories flash seeing this moment happen in his mind once again. His senses beginning to come back to him as he feels a hand pressing against his chest, he assumes it’s somebody preforming CPR. His ears ring as he can begin to hear multiple people yelling. He hears somebody say, “SHINAZUGAWA HAS A PULSE!” while others feet run across the ground. His hand twitches as his nerves begin to act and his body aches in pain. He’s so tired, so weary almost delirious as to what was even happening around him. Not making an effort to open his eyes until he can remember what was happening.

The sun still reflected down on his body as it rises up again. Ah, he remembers now. The final battle, a raging war against the creator of all the suffering that’s ever happen to him of any other. It was painful, full of agony as he can only remember his adrenaline and the pain rushing through his body as he overworked himself. Destined to keep fighting no matter what happened. No matter what.

Sanemi stayed still trying to awaken himself listen in on his surroundings, he feels others shaking him to wake up again and he nearly believes he should but he thinks it would be fine if he layed here awhile longer. He lays motionless until he hears the panic and distress of others around him as a kakushi yells “THEIR HEART IS SLOWING DOWN, WE NEED MEDICAL ASSISTANCE!” Sanemi’s heart nearly stops himself as his body shoots up on instinct. The kakushi who surrounded him yell out at him awakening so suddenly as he watches more rush past him. His body feeling sick and weak as his hands begin to tremble.

Slowly he finds the strength to stand up, turning his head as his eyes widen and his blood stops. He sees your body as you lay motionless, many people surround you trying to at least get you to wake up. Your body was mutilated as it seems you got a direct hit from a bad attack. He only realizes how bad it was when he sees two swords laying next to your right arm. Shinazugawa stumbles walking over towards you to get a clear view as tears threaten to drop. The moment he stands over you guilt consumes him when he sees not only your sword but his sword lying next to yours. He gets down on his knees to sit next to your body as the kakushi around only back away. One sticking around just for a moment to whisper in your ear “I’m sorry for your loss.”

Sanemi stares at your body with guilt taking over his senses. He feels sick seeing your state as he has to restrain himself feeling his body want to gag. His arms wrap around your body bringing you into a makeshift hug as he cradles your form. It doesn’t take long after that for him to fully break down. Tears flow out of his eyes like rivers as he nearly begs for you to wake up, hoping you somehow will hear his pitiful pleas and return. Return back to the corps. Return back to him.

He can’t help but return to some old habits and have some form of anger to the problem, even if it didn’t exist anymore. Demons took everything away from him. His mother, his siblings, his friends, Genya and now you too. While he may of gotten his revenge, finally getting and bringing justice to the victims of this attack he still doesn’t feel whole.

He knows you told him that he must heal, to release his emotions and be human, and he’s trying. Sanemi even succeeded in following your teaching. Even if he’s starting the healing process. Sanemi doesn’t think he will ever recover.

#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #kny #demon slayer x reader #kny x reader #x reader #headcanon #@.komoboko writes #angst #hurt no comfort #manga spoilers #kny angst #sanemi #sanemi shinazugawa #kny sanemi #sanemi x reader #sanemi shinazugawa x reader #sanemi x you #character death #fic #one shot

[spacebarbarianweird]

I absolutely hate the idea of Astarion living happily after in Baldur's Gate. Of course, he has nightmares and panic attacks! He is staying in the place of trauma! Every corner of the street, every building, every brothel, and a tavern - reminds him of 200 years of abuse, violence, SA, and torture. Yep, he probably feels safe in Tav's arms, but the moment they leave or he goes outside, the past catches him, making him remember every bad thing that happened to him.

A tavern with loud music? He had to have sex with the most disgusting dwarf-prostitute Baldur's Gate ever saw and then dragged them to Cazador.

A cute little house in the center of the city? He failed to seduce a married woman and was flayed by other spawns on their master's order.

A sea goddess's temple? He managed to catch a really young man with eyes full of hope, but Cazador didn't like the prey and ordered Astarion to stick his right arm into the fire.

A market? Here we go - he met this darling young man whom he let go and was locked in a tomb for a year.

A city fair? He met Sebastian there.

EVERY. FUCKING. CORNER. OF. THIS. GODS. DAMN. CITY is full of memories that will be rewoken once Astarion steps there. He will never recover in Baldur's Gate. He will have nightmares, panic attacks, anger bursts. This city will suffocate him, and he will finally be too exhausted to return home at sunrise, so he will stay outside and burn to ashes.

Tav must take him away from Baldur's Gate. As far as possible. Astarion will probably never say it directly. He doesn't know anything about the world behind the city walls. He doesn't consider the possibility he can go somewhere else. Tav is the responsible adult in this relationship, and she must take him away even if they are Baldurian themselves because Baldur's Gate will kill Astarion. Morally and physically.

You can't recover from trauma in the place of the trauma. I've been years in therapy. It was a prolonged process because my parents caused the trauma, and I still lived with them. After three years, I finally got brave enough to rent an apartment - and I couldn't even imagine how bad my family affected me, how suffocating my family house was. I never considered it a possibility.

If you have issues connected to the place, the first thing you do is to leave this place. For a time or for good, it doesn't matter.

Astarion is probably a city boy with no desire to live in the wilderness. Waterdeep, Neverwinter - there are a lot of cities, much better than Baldur's Gate. Maybe he will want something completely different and will never feel safe in the city walls. But he will never be happy in Baldur's Gate. And if Tav makes him stay because they want to stay, it will be even more cruel than to make him drink Araj's blood.

#astarion #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 astarion #bg3 #astarion bg3 #astarion headcanon #astarion romance #baldurs gate 3 #astarion headcanons #astarion rant #bg3 rant #astarion will be unhappy in Baldur's Gate #This city sucks and he must leave it for good #astarion ancunin #astarion baldurs gate #baldurs gate 3 astarion #bg3 spoilers

[liamthemailman]

♠️♥️House of Cards♣️♦️

Act Two Part Six - Goodbye

CW: None, angry old men

The door opens with a creek, pulling King’s attention from his work as he looks up over his reading glasses. He gives a short huff as he watches Ace limping in.

“Quite the mess that last mission was,” King comments, his eyes falling back to his paperwork. He missed the slight glare that Ace shot at him as he stepped forward.

“..The intel given was rot, sir. I was told the area would be clear.”

Ace drops the mission report, shifting his body weight to his uninjured leg. He was far from recovered, but Ace would be damned if he let the medics fuss over him again. This time he barely stayed in the medical bay, having decided he had other things to settle.

King only gives a light hum, seeing Ace’s current state. He finally places his pen down and reaches over to the report and places it aside.

“You came back just dandy, didn’t you Lieutenant? This isn’t the worst you’ve faced so I don’t see the issue here.” He invites Ace to take a seat opposite him but Ace remains standing despite his knee protesting the pain. 

“What actually happened in the safehouse, Major?”

King gives him a questioning look. He straightens up and furrows his brows at Ace. The air is still as the two stared each other down, the silence only broken by a rough gruff from King.

“I’ve told you. Captain Tudor had fought off Private Kyle after they viciously attacked you,” King answered, his eyes narrowing as he studied Ace standing before him. Ace’s stare was piercing right into King’s eyes.

“Is that what really happened?” Ace prods. “As far as I’ve known Jack, he’s not one to-”

“Be careful, Doe. Are you sure you want to question Elize’s words? She still saved you after you fought her.” King rumbles, a dark warning tone slipping out. This doesn’t deter Ace though, he only stands taller in spite of his handicap.

“Your promotion is coming up,” King adds, words cutting through the thick air. A threat to Ace in every way, daring the man before him to continue if he so foolishly pleases to. To anyone else, it might have silenced them into compliance, but not to Ace.

“It doesn’t matter to me.” Ace says firmly through gritted teeth. He bites his tongue to keep from wincing as he takes a step forward. Before King could ask, Ace slaps another document onto King’s desk.

“What is this?” King picks up the form, eyes scanning the top header before clenching his jaw. He looks back up at Ace who stares back with equal intensity. King sputters. “You-”

“I’m not staying for this. Not anymore.” Ace says, cutting in before King could express any further confusion or anger. He leans against King’s desk, letting out a sharp inhale as he forces his injured leg to follow along.

“I can no longer work by your side or this task force due to conflicts of interest, alongside obvious medical reasons. Effective immediately.”

King looks up from the form, looking between Ace and the paper before barking out a loud laugh. He reaches for a pen, clicking the tip out and scoffs. 

“Glad to see you still have that bite in you, Mad Dog,” King says with a bit of a joke in his voice. Despite this, the white knuckled hold King had on the pen and the silent angry scribble of the pen in the suffocatingly silent room said this was everything but a light matter. King lifts the paper, standing up himself as he reaches out to shake Ace’s hand.

The handshake was harsh, painfully tight and curt. As King moves to retract his hand, Ace clenches it tighter one last time, straining to lean closer towards his former boss and friend.

“You were a good man, Russel. It’s a shame things ended this way.”

Ace finally released King’s hand, who was shocked by his gall and could only stare as Ace turned and limped towards the door.

“I appreciate the sniper support from the last mission, Major. Don’t know what inspired the change of heart but glad I wasn’t totally alone in enemy territory.” The door shuts behind Ace, his odd limping footsteps slowly fading away.

King sinks back into his chair, the thing creaking under him. He slowly leans back, taking a deep sigh as he sets aside the approved retirement form. He stares at the door for a moment.

“I didn’t send a bloody sniper..” King mutters to himself, pulling out his phone and dialing Queen’s number with hands shaking so much he was sure he was going to snap the bloody thing in his hand. The dial rings once, twice and Queen picks up on the other end.

“Yes, my love?” Her voice calls out. King’s shoulders slack a little at the sound of her voice but he steeled himself and sat up.

“I didn’t send any snipers to assist the Lieutenant on his latest solo mission. I’ll need you to investigate his movements. He just retired too which is awfully convenient timing on his end. Might have some involvement with the enemy.” King says, eyes glazing over Ace’s mission report once again. He’s met with silence but it doesn’t last long.

“Roger that, Major. I’ll take a look into it.” Queen hums.

King bit his tongue and sighed, tapping his fingers on his desk as he hung his head low, thoughts still fresh on Ace’s parting words.

“My darling, you were right. He was a mistake to bring in. I thought I managed to put that dog down long ago but clearly it’s very much still alive.”

On the other end, Queen smiles to herself, twirling her pen in her hand as she hummed.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll take care of it.”

Objective Completed.

#House of Cards AU #Act 2 Part 5 #cod oc #call of duty oc #oc: LT Ace #mailman rants #fanfic #fanfiction #Task Force Cards #oc: Major King #oc: Queen

[trickstarbrave]

omegaverse 2 fic. part THREE!!!

part 2 can be found here (it also includes a link to part 1 in the post)

nerevar is not in any real danger. but he certain thinks he is. warnings for a i guess talks of death.

he is doing physically better enough to jack off a little bit though

If Nerevar was thankful for anything, it was his ability to plan. 

Leaving Resdayn was the best course of action, all things considered, but there were many options to flee to. He could have taken a way out through Blackmarsh, but he wasn’t sure surviving in the swamps was going to be easy for them. Sure, he did well on the Bitter Coast, but that wasn’t comparable to the alien home of the argonians. Not to mention, the argonians could be particularly hostile to the chimer, were good at ambushing, and more importantly: the Morag Tong wouldn’t think twice to look for him there.

Nerevar knew it wasn’t just a matter of time of laying low to get House Dagoth off his ass. No, if they couldn’t find him to drag him back for execution, they’d make due with the guild. They were pragmatic like that. They might want a proper execution to make a point, but they would just as easily allow the guild to hunt him and present Voryn with his severed head and heart. 

So Nerevar was instead making his way up north on the mainland, heading to the opposite corner of the country. He hid out in Mournhold for a bit, letting the chaos and crowded streets conceal his presence for a time as he made his plans and bought supplies, before continuing his uneven path to Blacklight.

Skyrim wouldn’t be the most hospitable place. Nords hated elves, after all, but no doubt House Dagoth expected him to take the easy way out and flee to either Cyrodiil or Blackmarsh where they could use the guild. They’d think twice about looking for him in the harsh landscape of Skryim or sending the guild there--they might anger the nords and start a conflict that wouldn’t be worth just securing Nerevar’s life. And he could simply claim in Skyrim that he was the bastard son of a nobody--someone lucky enough to have taken a chimer woman hostage, at least. It was common enough, and if he laid low and stuck to the wilds hunting for the most part, he should be able to survive there long enough for House Dagoth to give up and presume he’s dead. 

After that, Nerevar would be home free. He could go wherever he wanted to, so long as it wasn’t Resdayn. The Illiac Bay, High Rock, Elsweyr.

All he had to do was make it up to Blacklight, and he could cross the Velothi mountains. The biggest issue though would be timing. It had to be before it got too cold, and also he needed to plan around his heat. Normally he’d just count on suppressants for something as risky as this, but they were getting dramatically less effective. Even spending his heat in an inn room didn’t really seem viable; being around others was only exacerbating his worst symptoms. His uncle coming by his room to offer him food left Nerevar wanting to set himself on fire, and strangers constantly prodding him seemed even worse, he imagined.

The biggest issue though was Nerevar was… Slower than expected. As a canvasari he was used to walking long distances across the country, but it seemed the past few months had not been kind to Nerevar. He was sleeping, but woke up feeling unrested. He was still having trouble eating properly, even outside of his heat. Small attacks from wild animals left him recovering longer than he typically did, and no amount of fatigue potions seemed to get him moving any faster. 

Which is why he fell behind schedule of his plans. He should really make a run for it, heading through one of the smaller mountain passes, but the idea of waiting out his heat in a small cave in the mountain pass with no promise of reliable food, clean water, and not getting potentially frozen in there was… 

Well. It was terrifying and stupid. He has only two options: try and wait out his heat in a shitty mountain pass, or hunker down in Resdayn, wait it out, and take the larger pass near Blacklight with more reliable travel. 

Yet, once again, his planning failed him. He was at a town near Blacklight, cold weather settling in, when the tell-tale symptoms of his heat started coming on. Hot flashes, nausea, panic, fear, all of the miserable things he began associating with his heat. 

He managed to buy some supplies, rushing out of town, and finding an old cave to hunker down in. Nerevar tried to be optimistic; it was a good thing his heat had come on a week early. Now he could wait it out, recover a bit, and make his way to Blacklight or another town or city with a mountain pass. He didn’t have to worry about going into it while making the trek through the mountains. 

At least, that was what he attempted at first. Once the heat really set in, Nerevar wished more than anything it would simply stop. The suppressants either weren’t doing anything, or his heat had only gotten worse. Likely both, if he was honest, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t miserable. Even looking at food left his stomach churning. The weather was frigid, but he felt like he was running a fever, and all of his skin burned. At several points he grabbed handfuls of snow just to slather his body in it, trying to calm the burning, but all it did was make him shiver instead. 

And then, when he was at his lowest wishing for death, death finally found him. 

“... Shit, I wasn’t expecting it to actually be him.” A hushed voice said, and Nerevar jolted from his dazed half-sleep. It was familiar, though he was so disoriented from both a lack of sleep and food that he couldn’t place why. Was someone here? A hallucination maybe? 

“We don’t want him running. Send in the guards.”

“Odros even if he runs I doubt he’ll get far.” Nerevar felt his body tense, wanting to flee, but finding no energy to pull himself upright. 

People were close. Multiple people. He had to run, or else he’d be caught. He had to run--now. But somehow all of his limbs felt heavier than lead, and even lifting his head and squirming around was a struggle. 

Footsteps approached next, Nerevar’s vision hazy. Someone touched him gently, but the touch felt like knives on his skin, making him snarl and growl in a weak attempt at protecting himself. They sighed, before tilting his head back, pressing a bottle to his lips.

“Drink. It’ll help.” Nerevar’s lips formed a tight line, nausea making his face go pale and head swim again. The potion smelled sweet and bitter at the same time, a disgusting combination to his sense, his body objecting to the idea of downing it. Another sigh, before Nerevar felt a spell in their hand washing some of the nausea away, before the potion was fed to him forcibly. 

He coughed and choked, but they continued pouring it in, making him drink. The painful burning began to fade, and the restlessness that had been keeping him awake the past two days finally subsided, along with more of the nausea.

“There we go,” They said, “Stubborn s’wit.” Before Nerevar found his arms being bound behind his back, another growl ripping through his throat as he squirmed.

“It’s for your own good.” One of the people tying him said. “We can’t risk you running again, Nerevar.” His vision was still unfocused and blurry, before a hand touched his forehead.

“Why don’t you sleep for a bit?” And with that, his vision turned black, and his body slumped, completely unconscious.

--

When Nerevar awoke, with a slightly clearer mind, he realized how dire his situation was.

His thoughts were still muddled, but he did actually manage to get a semi-restful sleep in the back of the cart he was in, though his body felt weak and he still had no strength in his limbs. But the blankets and pillows in the cart were of a familiar color and pattern, all smelling faintly of the incense of House Dagoth, and even more faintly of Voryn.

He’d been foolishly caught by House Dagoth, something that made him want to curl up in shame.

Nerevar debated trying to break out and make a run for it, but he knew that wouldn’t do him any good at the moment. For one, he didn’t have a lot of optimism for his ability to break out at the moment. His hands were still bound, his body still felt weak, and not to mention, they took his weapons and most of his supplies, leaving him with only the essentials in the cart. 

Nerevar buried his face in a cushion that smelled particularly like Voryn, frustrated, antsy, and still dizzy. He tried to find a way out of it, his mind racing, but he was coming up empty.

Briefly, he remembered what they said about those born under the thief sign: incredibly lucky, until they weren’t. They were doomed, inevitably, to have that luck run out and their lives cut short. 

He supposed it was fitting, in the end. The past six months--half a year of suffering--had been nothing but bad luck. Healers that couldn’t help him, House Dagoth ordering his execution on top of the existing exile, the fact his illness wasn’t seeming to get any better… And to top it all off, he couldn’t get away fast enough. He was caught, tied up, and was being dragged back to Kogoruhn. At least Nerevar could hope that his heat would be over when they executed him. 

At the revelation this was really the end, his body slumped, numbness settling in again.

As pathetic as it was to lay down and accept death, Nerevar didn’t know what else to do. He didn’t think he could go up against Vemyn and Odros as weak as he was right now--he’d just get killed for trying. He didn’t know how he could escape and hide either; he was moving too slowly to get any distance between them, and being in heat would make that attempt all the more miserable. They’d likely find him all over again before he got far. 

Though perhaps… Nerevar simply wanted this to be over. Even if he did run away, even if he did make it to Skyrim, was that really going to be any better? Skyrim had worse magic users and healers than Resdayn as far as he knew; he didn’t expect them to find a cure for him, and it would likely be many more months--even years--until he could make it out of the country to see a different healer more familiar with elven physiology. Every heat he was getting worse and worse, his condition deteriorating rapidly. If not for the weird potion they forced him to drink, Nerevar imagined he’d still be pleading for death to take him. 

All Nerevar could do, in the end, was hope that his death didn’t crush Voryn as much as he thought it would. He hoped Voryn would be fine in the end; the dust would settle, he would mourn and then move on. 

“Alright brat,” Vemyn scowled, opening the cart’s door, making Nerevar jump and hiss at the bright light hitting him. “It’s time to eat.” He plopped down saltrice porridge with some meat on top. A typical meal on the road, but the very sight and scent had him nauseated. 

Nerevar turned his head from it, instead burying his face in the pillow that smelled like Voryn, breathing deeply in an effort to keep from dry heaving. 

“Oh don’t act stubborn like that.” Vemyn rolled his eyes. “I’ve made Voryn eat when he was throwing a fit too, I can make you eat.” 

“Please don’t…” Nerevar moaned, feeling a disgusting, hot feeling climb up his throat, a tell-tale sign of intense nausea as his stomach turned. “Please, please I don’t…”

Vemyn took this protest as one of defiance though, taking Nerevar by the jaw, grabbing a bit of roasted meat. Nerevar closed his mouth tightly, skin burning again at the unwanted contact, tears stinging in his eyes as he twisted them shut. Regardless of how much he protested though, Vemyn managed to pry his mouth open, forcing the food inside, and Nerevar immediately began gagging and retching. Impulsively, Vemyn dropped him as Nerevar spat the food out, before throwing up bile for good measure, his body shaking and trembling uncontrollably. 

He almost face planted right into his own vomit if not for Vemyn grabbing him again, swearing under his breath.

“Shit,” 

“I told you not to make him eat.” Odros called from outside.

“He looks like shit, he needs to eat!” 

“Omegas are different from alphas.” Odros snarked back.

“Well what do you want me to do, let him waste away back there?” Honestly, Nerevar would prefer it. What did it matter if they fed him? He was going to die anyway. He wouldn’t starve to death by the end of his heat, and they could just keep dragging him to Kogoruhn.

“The healers can look him over when we get back to see why he’s not eating.” Vemyn still pulled him from the cart, as much as Nerevar protested it. He grabbed the pillow in a futile effort to keep himself inside; the enclosed space was much better than being out in the open, at least instinctively. But Vemyn just tossed Nerevar over his shoulder, pillow and all, and walked out, instructing the guards to clean it. 

Nerevar was then plopped by the fire, shaking and trembling, but to his surprise Odros wrapped a blanket around him, covering his body and face. Maybe it was just because the man didn’t want to look at Nerevar, but to Nerevar it was a blessing. The blanket was soft, and smelled more like Voryn too, slowly putting him at ease. 

A restlessness came then, the desire to run out into the wilderness and head for Kogoruhn himself, his legs shifting under the fabric eager to take off. 

Ah, he wanted to see Voryn. He wanted to see him so badly it was hurting, his chest aching. His teeth were clenched from how badly he wanted him, his thoughts only on Voryn and all the little things about him Nerevar missed. The way his hands would often have ink or charcoal stains when he was up late studying, how he always preferred a mild tea blend with honey (that had to be imported, a little indulgence he couldn’t go without), the way his laugh carried and rumbled in his chest… 

“Here,” Odros stuck a potion bottle under the blanket. It was the same pinkish colored potion he remembered from when they found him, however vaguely. Was it an even stronger type of suppressant? If so, Nerevar would take it. It didn’t matter if it was also unhealthy for him or even poisonous after all; he was going to die anyways, though he didn’t enjoy the idea of eating anything with how sick he felt. 

Nerevar uncapped it, his stomach turning, before he closed his eyes. He imagined Voryn was there, pressing the potion bottle to his lips, gentle voice coaxing him to drink. Nerevar began drinking, groaning in displeasure at the taste, nearly gagging at one point, before he managed to down most of it. It coated his tongue in a way that left him feeling more nauseous, but slowly the restlessness and burning once again faded, leaving him slowly starting to feel… Relaxed. 

“It’s clean.” One of the guards announced, though Nerevar could tell in his voice he was annoyed at having to do so. Nerevar didn’t really know why they bothered either, if he was being honest. It didn’t matter if a prisoner being dragged back to the stronghold for execution had to ride for several days with his own vomit, did it? 

“Alright,” Vemyn then picked Nerevar up again, still wrapped in the blanket, holding him under his arm like a bag of rice. Nerevar had half a mind to bite him, but luckily couldn’t manage from underneath the blanket. “Back in you go.” He then plopped Nerevar back onto the pillows, earning a growl. 

“Glad he still has some spirit.” Vemyn added as they locked the cart once more. Nerevar freed his head, once more wishing he had bitten Vemyn.

“Asshole…” Nerevar muttered under his breath, before curling back up with the blanket and cushion, trying to get comfortable. 

“He has some saltrice crackers, let him snack on that until we get back.” Odros stated. 

“Omegas are so annoying like this…” Vemyn grumbled. “Whatever. We need to head back quickly. He can eat in Kogoruhn then.”

Nerevar wondered how long he’d be alive then to eat there. Maybe they’d give him a last meal? It was hard to say. Perhaps they wanted an official trial, though it seemed odd given how House Dagoth didn’t usually bother unless the situation was particularly murky. There was nothing really vague about what happened with Nerevar. He agreed to spend his heat with Voryn. He had sex with Voryn. Voryn tried to claim him. 

Ah, even thinking about it had Nerevar rubbing his neck, a shiver running through him. Maybe he should have let Voryn just claim him. It would have felt good, at least. The feeling of being claimed was supposed to be an orgasmic rush, and everything falling into place, at least for a moment. If he was going to be punished anyways, he should have just gone for it. Let them hate him and kill him for something he actually did, not something that almost happened. 

His hips were squirming at the thought, a shiver of desire running through him. He hadn’t been able to masturbate his last heat; he was too miserable to even try, but now that the restlessness and burning had subsided he found himself oddly aroused. He buried his face even further into the blanket as one hand slipped into his trousers, stroking and rubbing against his cock. 

“Ah~” Nerevar moaned softly, muffling it with the fabric. Sparks shot up his spine as he once again imagined being claimed, his other hand stroking at the spot Voryn almost bit him on. The pleasure wasn’t enough; gods he missed Voryn’s hands on him--even just his fingers was enough to get Nerevar off sometimes, and that was to say nothing about his cock or his mouth--

Nerevar’s eyes rolled back at the memory, rubbing faster as his breathing quickened. 

Voryn’s mouth on him, tongue lapping at him and moaning obscenely as he whispered and moaned about how good Nerevar tasted, before his tongue slipped up and rolled around his cock. His lips closed around the nub too, suckling gently at first, increasing pressure as his fingers thrust in and out of Nerevar, rubbing at his sweet spot…

His body trembled as he came suddenly, no doubt pent up from six months of being unable to get off, a strangled groan falling from his lips. And then, just as soon as the bliss washed over him, tears started to fall from his eyes, only frustrating him more.

He didn’t want to cry. Nerevar was fucking sick of crying. He had finally just felt good after so long, at least for a brief moment even if his nausea wasn’t going away fully. And now here he was, spoiling the moment himself, crying. 

Gods he missed Voryn. The longing seemed to only get worse after his orgasm, as he curled back up with the cushion and blanket. He wanted Voryn to scent him again. He wanted Voryn curled up with him, holding him tightly. He wanted Voryn kissing him and whispered to him. He missed the safety and security of Voryn’s arms.

He never quite felt this way before. Certainly he enjoyed spending time with Voryn before--Nerevar loved his laugh, all his weird little habits, the way he twirled his rings when he was nervous, the soft tender smile he reserved for very few people, one of which was Nerevar himself…

He didn’t know what it meant. All he knew was it hurt to think about how he’d never be able to have it again. 

--

Nerevar had been under the impression they were going to drag him all the way to Kogoruhn in a cart. It made sense, honestly; why bother with teleportation for a prisoner? But upon overhearing the guards talk, they weren’t going to head for a port to take a boat to Vvardenfell, and were instead heading to Blacklight for the propylon chamber. 

It was weird. They were in a rush to execute him, but were talking about keeping him long enough to feed him and let a healer look at him. Were they afraid he might die before standing trial? Possibly. Did they need something else from Nerevar? Not that he could think of, honestly. They kept most of his things and he didn’t have much value they could extract from him directly. If they wanted compensation from House Mora they could simply demand it with his head or shake down his uncle, couldn’t they? Maybe the cart and animals were on loan from House Redoran and they were eager to return them before they incurred any more debt, but House Redoran weren’t as cutthroat about money like Hlaalu or even Dres were. 

They were rested again, having made camp, Nerevar still curled up in the locked cart. By tomorrow they’d reach Blacklight. By around noon they’d no doubt be teleporting to Kogoruhn, where… Who knows what awaited him. 

He did realize he knew one of the guards. Not a canvasari, but an actual, proper guard in House Dagoth. The guards hadn’t been talking to him much; again, Nerevar couldn’t blame them. For starters, an omega in heat wasn’t one for much conversation. For another, he was a prisoner--why bother conversing with a prisoner? They could heckle him a little, sure, but he supposed they wanted to behave given they were traveling with nobility. 

Dagoth Beryl: fairly humble guard, less stuck up than most. Sometimes on trips where negotiations were important he was the official escort of Voryn or whichever Dagoth brother they were taking. Nerevar mostly protected items, after all, and being a proper guard of a noble required more intense training and education. For one, it couldn’t be done by outsiders; you needed to be an official member of the house, hence why Nerevar never got it. Outside of that you also needed etiquette training, education on politics, knowledge on poison antidotes and healing magic… Sometimes you were even required to taste food first to make sure it wasn’t poisoned. 

Again, not really the job Nerevar was cut out for. He could kill well, but he wasn’t skill in medical care or restoration magic, nor did he really care all that much about etiquette most of the time. House Dagoth had enough personal guards anyways, but were always in need of damn caravan guards. Most canvasari were flakey, ill mannered, and traveled from place to place in hopes of finding work. Nerevar was one of the few regular canvasari, someone that was reliable to have on hand.

Or well, he was. Not anymore after he seduced their heir completely unintentionally. Once again, Nerevar wished he had gone further and pushed for more. He would have at least earned all the shit he suffered through. Azura’s mercy, he probably would have suffered less because they would have just killed him faster! And he would have enjoyed it more! 

Beryl was the guard on duty for the night, and the potions they kept giving Nerevar were helping. He didn’t know what they were exactly--he was still in heat, and still struggling in many aspects, certainly enough that he couldn’t run away--but they were helping him not want to die if someone else so much as looked at him or spoke to him. He was even able to nibble on the saltrice crackers more reliably without getting nauseous, though anything more than that had his stomach churning in protest. 

“How does House Dagoth usually execute people?” Nerevar asked. A bit out of the blue, but he didn’t see a point in beating around the bush. They all knew why he was here, after all. He could start with small talk and work his way up to dropping the question, but it wouldn’t really soften the blow much for either of them. 

Nerevar knew he was going to die. They knew he was going to die. He figured he might as well ask how.

Beryl was quiet at that, falling absolutely silent. 

“Uhm,” Beryl began, “Normally in House Dagoth… Someone is simply killed for their transgression immediately.”

“And if there was an official execution?” Again, the guard was quiet. Nerevar couldn’t see him, but the tone of voice told Nerevar he was uncomfortable. Probably because it was a dark subject matter

“... I believe…” He continued, voice still hesitant, “ I think the official process is that they’re giving a poison that swiftly stops the heart,” he paused again, “And then they’re decapitated for good measure.”

Nerevar knew that poison. Voryn had brought it up once or twice. Every Great House had their own specialty poisons--though House Telvanni likely had too many to even count. This one was a colorless, extremely bitter liquid used on political enemies when they needed something fast and effective. First it quickly knocked the victim out, putting them to sleep so they couldn’t fight or vomit it back up, and then very quickly worked to stop their heart entirely. Within a minute they would be dead, passing without much hassle. It was important for him as heir to understand how the potion was made, keep its recipe a closely guarded secret, and also have antidotes on hand in the event someone tried to use it against him. 

It was, like all things in House Dagoth, fast and effective. Other houses delighted in torturing political enemies: selling them into slavery, extensive torture, whipping them until their bones were visible on their backs, or even nailing them to stakes out in the wilderness while guards watched animals come to eat them alive--or failing that, they died of exposure in the sometimes harsh climate of Resdayn.

It wasn’t a bad way to go, in all honesty. They could certainly do worse, and still might if he was being honest. They could give him the poison right now, but were probably waiting to drag him back to make a point of it, or because they thought Nerevar might have answers of what disease he gave Voryn. 

Nerevar could just tell himself it was a sleeping potion. He was having trouble sleeping lately, after all. He was back ‘home’ in Kogoruhn, just laying down to sleep, and when he woke up he could see Voryn again. Something nice as he faded into oblivion; a sweet lie to bring himself a bit of comfort. 

The numbness in his body spread at the revelation, static in his veins and his head even more foggy. Maybe thinking about it was bad for him. But he at least had a plan to make his death a little more bearable. 

“... Thanks.” Nerevar replied, before once again going silent.

#omegaverse au #nerevoryn #nerevar #indoril nerevar #voryn dagoth #DONT WORRY NEXT PART THE ANGST IS OFFICIALLY OVER #i just wanted to post this. before i sleep #next part nerevar GOES HOME. BACK TO VORYN. VORYN IS WAITING FOR HIM. #along with some other stuff

[ipsen]

Eto Character Analysis

Big long post coming. Couldn’t help myself.

Admittedly, I’m mostly stealing from this post from the old ages (it’s crazy good and turned Eto into my favorite character), so you can read that and honestly get the same information. But I figured I’d take a swing at the behemoth myself.

Also wanna preface the analysis with the fact that I’m using the official translations as my source, as I can’t access the original scans and also couldn’t read them even if I did (cursed by monolingual tendencies).

Under the cut!

Eto is, unfortunately, a character that is built mainly on subtext crammed into very few chapters. Figuring her out is very difficult and a lot of her more nuanced traits can go over most people’s heads (it’s easy to call her insane, for example, and while she does have a few issues up in the old cranium, i’d hardly call her that).

The most important thing about Eto to keep in mind when discussing her is that she has been failed, and as a result of that, she also believes that she has failed those around her.

Her father left her in what is basically a literal shithole, especially for a baby. Her mother, though she died without really knowing Eto, did leave a journal behind, and Eto’s singular insight to the work regarding herself is that she is just a “byproduct,” and her foster parent got killed (presumably) protecting her from V, punting her to an orphanage where she’d have to steal money to survive (see: re 62), and presumably pretty often at that.

She got insanely lucky with the writer gig and shiono, who-- side note-- means a lot to her. Finally, a positive adult figure in her life! Unfortunately, he is a) only human, and b) her editor/coworker, so his positive influence, while welcome, is limited. still, she picks up his cute little hand gestures and I, personally, appreciate that (see: re 62 and compare it to TG 114).

Just the greatest.

Where was I... Ah, Eto being failed by those around her. And where does that leave her? Look no further than TG 98:

“A replacement is merely a replacement.” Eto doesn’t believe in found family, because she never actually found one.

And within the context of this chapter, we learn another thing about Eto. Whenever she interacts with someone and “breaks” them (the Yasuhisas, Kanae), she heavily projects onto them (because she recognizes their situation; notice how she only ever targets people who are both relatable to her and weaker than her) and breaks apart the “lie” the target tells themself, even if it isn’t entirely accurate:

(re 43) This is a false statement; Kanae does wish for Shuu to recover, he’s just upset it’s happening like this. Because who wouldn’t be, in his situation? Despite everything that he and the others did for Shuu, the only thing able to bring him out of his depression is the very thing that caused it. But I digress.

Back on track, there’s also Haise’s analysis of her work, the most personal thing she has, to consider when discussing her in re 39:

Once again, the void rears its ugly head.

Hopelessness. Emptiness. Filling it with anger and bitterness, and it’s never enough, but it’s all she has. Because the void can only be filled by the things she can never have.

So she throws herself at the CCG, banging her head against its walls with small raids alongside some fellow ghouls and then taking on the special investigators by herself. She’s 14, she’s a kakuja, and she’s mad. Mad at the world that failed her, mad at V for making it the way it is, and mad that things haven’t changed for a very long time. She has Ukina’s journal; she knows how stale the “narrative” is.

Of course, her raids don’t work very well, but she’s basically just a kid. She is as old as Hinami during TG.

Then, she’s finally thrown a bone, and is worse off for it:

Something I’ve noticed when factoring Arima’s influence into Eto’s character is that there is an assumption that the power dynamic between them is equal. It isn’t. I cannot stress this enough; there is a hierarchy at play here, and Eto isn’t the one on top. How do we know this?

(TG 139)

(re 52)

Kaneki was the new toy to replace Eto, the old one.

The ultimate plan is “the One-Eyed King will destroy the egg of V’s world and make something new.” By the time Kaneki does take the throne, this plan has been going on for 13 years. Kaneki was chosen as a candidate at the ten-year mark; he had to have been a non-factor before then. So who is left to become the king instead?

Eto.

The age difference between her and Arima is roughly 4-5 years. Remind you of another relationship?

(TG 14)

Uh-oh.

To reiterate, Eto is a 14-year old kid who has been abandoned by everyone who could possibly love her the way she wants. She desires parental love, protective love, the kind of love that makes her feel safe, when she has only ever fought to defend herself.

Enter someone who is far stronger than she could ever be, someone who could actually offer her the protection she so desperately wants. Unfortunately, Kishou Arima is the endgame mindset of Black Reaper Kaneki, to put it simply: someone who is impossibly distant, wants to die, and craves the approval of everyone.

Let’s expand on Arima for a brief moment. “Craves the approval of everyone,” specifically. He is both the One-Eyed King and the greatest ghoul investigator that ever lived. He doesn’t pick one or the other, and when he dies, he doesn’t have to pick. He is mourned by the CCG, and Kaneki, ever a puppet in someone else’s game, carries on his legacy and “wish“ for coexistence.

Eto is no exception to his godly levels of charisma. She is one of Hinami’s foils, and we know how quickly and easily she latched onto Kaneki. It’s safe to assume that something similar happened with Eto and Arima.

And Eto failed him. She doesn’t become king; someone else does. Someone very similar. And yet, when faced with this new person:

(re 56)

Well, then.

Eto also does everything in her power to give Kaneki the information he needs to break the eggshell. She freely gives away information about V, the Washuu’s involvement with them, the connection to the CCG, everything. Or as much as she can give him while under Cochlea’s surveillance.

So what’s the game here? Why does she support Kaneki, the one who basically stole Arima's approval, something everyone around him wants, from under her nose? Better yet, why is she aiding the search for her “replacement” in the first place? Because remember, even before Kaneki registered on her radar for a candidate for the OEK, she and Aogiri were searching for Kanou, the one-eyed ghoul maker specialist man. Aogiri wanted to use Kanou to make as many possible candidates beyond just Kaneki. So even without Kaneki in the picture, Eto wants a replacement. She wants this. Why?

Well, here’s what I think she actually wants:

(re 53)

There’s no other explanation that I can think of for why she would willingly get herself arrested and leave Aogiri to be fully exterminated on Rushima (the One-Eyed Owl totally could have turned the tables of that battle). She’s only lived as long as she has because she doesn’t want to leave anything unsaid. This is also the reason why she reveals herself as a ghoul as Takatsuki; she’s effectively destroying her own career while simultaneously giving V a huge middle finger.

This desire to close off everything she’s built up until now and pass the torch to Kaneki is also represented in her haircut; she’s literally shedding her burdens to give to someone else. Someone similar to her, but kinder than her. Better than her.

(re 52)

--

I’ve said what I’ve come to say. Thanks for reading!

#tokyo ghoul #eto yoshimura #sen takatsuki #tg meta #tokyo ghoul meta