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jinkicake · 4 years

Text

Mouthful

You suck them off while they’re on the phone.

Kozume Kenma x Reader

Kuroo Tetsurou x Reader

Miya Osamu x Reader

Here you go Anon, I hope you like it!!! I am pushing the Oikawa, Kuroo, Bokuto bffs agenda because we were robbed of that interaction. I just know they would all be good friends like please,,,, imagine these mfs in college together as roommates.... It would be so perfect and they all have the brooding quiet type s/o heheh.... Also, I saw spoilers for bnha and um..... ummm.... UMMMMMM

SEMI-SMUTTY // NSFW

WC- 1,830

~~~

Kozume Kenma

Kenma has the best poker face, nothing is going to give away the fact that he is getting head

Except for when a tiny, tiny, appreciative sigh leaves his lips…..

Then the other person on the line, most definitely Kuroo will be like ‘Yo, what are you doing~’ Yes, Kuroo can tell when Kenma is getting head and will probably praise him for it

I think if you first try your advances Kenma would simply stare at you with disgust, making no effort to hide that same level of repulsiveness in his voice

He’d go along with it though because he is not going to try that hard to stop you, ‘why waste that energy’

His nimble fingers would card through your hair and he would instantly become relaxed like his shoulders would go limp and he’d flutter his eyes shut

Kenma would still be able to keep up with the conversation though because he doesn’t really add that much input anyway

However even though most people wouldn’t find any difference in his change of attitude….. Kuroo would notice, how can’t he? He would notice the subtle changes in his pudding hair best friend and would be like ‘are you getting head right now’

To which Kenma would go bright red and tense up really quick and try to hide it but ultimately give up and just sigh in defeat ‘yeah’

Kenma doesn’t like talking on the phone,,, you take it upon yourself to help him relax~

Kenma pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, trying hard not to let the hiss escape his lips. He doesn’t glance down at you, he knows that if he did, he would come undone. The feeling of your warm mouth sucking him in so nicely, your cheeks hollowing around his legnth, your tongue running underneath his cock, it makes his knees utterly weak.

“Yeah, I met that dude Oikawa, I don’t know why everyone hates him. He seems like a cool guy to me,” Kuroo aimlessly rambles, going on about how he met the well-known setter. “he’s going to hang out with Bokuto and I next weekend. You wanna come?”

Kenma sighs and it’s not because of your tongue. He silently thinks long and hard before speaking up again.

“No.”

You end up gagging on his length, blame on the fact that you tried laughing while sucking him off.

“Kenma, you’d really like him.” Kuroo persuades and Kenma mentally pictures the pros and cons.

“I’d rather play video games,” Kenma’s fingers rake through your hair and he makes the mistake of looking down at you. A quiet moan leaves his lips, the perfect little ‘ah’ that he doesn’t even hear himself. The line goes quiet for awhile and Kenma assumes that it is because Kuroo is trying to come up with another reason why Kenma should join them.

“Is (Y/N) giving you head right now?” Kuroo asks boldly and you gag once again, pinching your eyes shut at the humiliation. Defeat washes over Kenma.

“Yeah.” He sighs and Kuroo hums slightly.

“Finally, good for you, take it like a champ.” Kuroo praises and Kenma’s nose scrunches in disgust. “Anyway, I’ll come by at like nine on Saturday okay? Oikawa is only in Tokyo for the weekend.”

Kenma never can win, can he?

“Fine.”

Kuroo Tetsurou

Kuroo is suuuuch a showoff, please he will do it just to make you flustered

He will purposely roll his shoulders back, sit on the couch all arrogantly, stare straight into your eyes as he bites his lip, use his hand to push his hair back while purposely flexing his bicep, he does it all for your enjoyment as well

He is eye-candy and that bitch knows it,,,,, anything for his lovely s/o

Kuroo wouldn’t make any noises though because he doesn’t really want to get caught in the middle of a blowjob. You would refuse to finish him off and then he wouldn’t have your sweet mouth anymore…..

But,,,, if someone did catch him in the middle of a blowjob, Kuroo would not be embarrassed, please his ego would flourish I feel like he is into that kind of thing

Side bar…. Sometimes I go off with Kuroo and I think,,,, is this too occ? because I remember he is just a big science dork but then I remember no he is a scorpio and then it all makes sense, Kuroo is the best of both worlds

Kuroo wouldn’t be able to pay attention at all to the conversation at hand like Bokuto could be asking him questions about something and Kuroo is just like ‘yup, it was really hot today’ like he can’t keep up….. not when you’re so generously sucking him off

Then Kenma is like … and Akaashi is like … because they can put two and two together unlike their oblivious friend

It gets to the point where Kenma will start doing something else, like playing a video game while Bokuto tries to keep a conversation going between four people all by himself

Please, Kuroo is the ultimate tease with you but….. if he is going to get pleased then he will also try to please you as well

“And then the vice-principal got mad at me,” Bokuto groans loudly, his eye twitching as he thinks back to the incident that happened earlier in the week. “it’s not my fault he wears a wig!”

“Bokuto that was not the reason you got in trouble,” Akaashi sighs disappointedly, Kuroo doesn’t pay attention to them.

“What happened?” Kenma comments, slightly curious in the conversation at hand. Kuroo gently cups your cheek, running his thumb against your skin lovingly as he stares down you. At the sight of your teasing eyes and sinful tongue sucking on the tip of his hard cock, his thighs twitch beside you.

“… then Bokuto spiked the principals head to ‘kill the bug’ and also set his wig back to normal.” Akaashi finishes, heaving another disappointed sigh.

“See, I was helping him. He should be thanking me not scolding us for an hour.” Bokuto complains and Akaashi tries not to slap his captain through the phone.

“This is what I deal with on a daily basis, I even have a notebook to predict his next moves.” Akaashi tells Kenma, his head still numb from the scolding he had to endure earlier in the week.

“I don’t think anyone on our team is that bad, maybe Lev,” Kenma thinks and Kuroo licks his lips, his eyes darkening when he zones in on your mouth.

“Kuroo, is he even listening?” Bokuto asks curiously and Kenma narrows his eyes when he pieces together why his friend is so quiet. He knows Kuroo is either getting head or giving it.

“Ignore him, Bokuto, it’s good we don’t have to hear his voice.” Kenma tosses out and Kuroo gasps. Of course, out of everything, that is what he heard.

“Kenma!” Kuroo snaps and the setter simply hides further under his blanket on the other end of the line. “I’m just busy,”

“With what?” Bokuto eagerly pesters and Kuroo glances down at you once more.

“Stuff.”

Miya Osamu

Osamu also has a good poker face, nothing can give away that he is getting head…. There will be no slip-up from him

Unless Atsumu says something and Osamu’s competitive side jumps out for a hot second then…… then there is a slip up

‘Fuck you ‘Tsumu, I’m getting head that’s why I don’t care about your bullshit story’ cue a dramatic gasp from Atsumu and Ojiro on the other end of the line like … silence

Yeah, Osamu doesn’t do well when provoked…. Good luck with that one

Osamu wouldn’t say no to getting head like if you got onto your knees and pushed your hair back,,,, Osamu would be like ‘shit, here we go again’ he might be hesitant at first but then he will cockily accept it

He’ll carry on the conversation with disinterest, not really paying attention because all he can do is stare at you

Sometimes he will fuck your face,,,, literally….. he has no shame but when you gag too loudly then he lets you have control again

Osamu doesn’t really want to get caught…. He wants to shield you away from that

His little comments that he slides in conversations here and there will probably be noticed once he stops saying them because he is preoccupied with other things. The team can’t figure out what has him so distracted though

Osamu is usually pretty gentle,,,, until he gets angry so if you suck him off while he is having a conversation with Atsumu…. Good luck

“I have to help my grandmother around the house today, so there will be no practice. Take the day to rest.” Kita’s voice sounds throughout the multiple phones and Osamu lets out a soft hum. His eyes are staring directly at you while he holds your hair back out of your face, despite his neutral face you can still see the fondness swimming in his eyes.

“Say hi to gran for me!” Atsumu says and Ojiro glances at him, the two on the same device as they walk through the city.

“No.” Kita responds and Atsumu sighs dejectedly before going off on Ojiro when he starts to laugh at him.

Osamu continues to pay no attention to him, instead, he thrusts into your mouth while holding your head still so he can control the pace. It feels so good, he could fucking cum-

“Yo, ‘Samu what are you even doing? Reading your old man magazines?” Atsumu snickers when he notices how quiet his brother has been. Osamu closes his eyes momentarily, trying to calm himself down from snapping. He gently pulls himself off of you, allowing you to take over the pace.

“Eat shit ‘Tsumu.” Osamu snaps back, now watching the way your hands grip his strong thighs as you bob your head along his length.

“My grandmother-“ Kita starts but is quickly cut off.

“Ah, the shit that you cook ‘Samu?” Atsumu retorts, sticking his tongue out despite Osamu not being able to see it.

“Stop it, my grandmother-“ Kita tries again but Osamu interrupts him. The grip in your hair tightens as his anger grows.

“You really like that shit then since all you do is fucking eat it!” Osamu curses and Atsumu decides to tease him even more.

“I’ve never seen (Y/N) eat your cooking, that’s how you know it’s shit.” A gasp is heard right after Atsumu’s comment, Suna’s mouth falls open in shock.

“She eats all my cooking, I feed her well but right now she’s too busy sucking my dick.” Osamu spits and you immediately pull off of him, your mouth a perfect ‘o’ as you stare up at him in disbelief.

“You, right now?” Atsumu asks slowly and the line goes quiet.

“My grandmother is listening, I have the phone on speaker.” Kita finally finishes and the Miya twins start to count their final days.

Taglist.

@yams046 @why-am-i-sad-and-sleepy @xhanjisungiex @xxashshs @chaosamu @angelkogane @augustdearly @kunimwuah @littleshopoflove @osamuonigiri @pearzuko @darksxder @macaronnv @nerdygremlin @buzzybeebee

#kozume kenma x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #miya osamu x reader #kenma x reader #kuroo x reader #osamu x reader #kenma smut #kuroo smut #osamu smut #haikyuu fic #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu smut

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mrspillow · 3 years

Text

Sorry (Jellal Fernandes x Reader)

"Hmm... strawberry cake..."

Suppressing a small laugh you turned your head to Erza, your best friend of childhood days that never seemed to miss the opportunity of shoving cake into her mouth.

You had seen the amounts of baked goods the redhead could swallow within minutes, not even speaking of hours, but when it came to strawberry cakes, it turned ridiculous.

"I do not know how you aren't fat already, Erza", you mused and put your chin onto your palm, still watching that food orgy of hers "But I guess that's okay, Ichiya likes your body just the way you are."

Even though she was wearing armor, you could see the shivers running down her spine and her face growing blue as she choked on that cake.

"Stop that", she didn't like being teased with a matter as serious as Ichiya, not even by you "You know exactly he gives me the chills every time."

You shrugged and turned back to the field inside of the Domus Flau arena in Krokus, watching the pair of wizards fight it out. Although you were no part of a guild, you were busy cheering on for Fairy Tail whenever they entered the field.

Yeah, sure, there were shouts of boos and the mocking of the other guilds but with Erza alone, they couldn't be any worse than the best.

You just knew it.

Even when the both of you were just kids and surely no force to reckon with, she wasn't just a surprisingly powerful mage but also kind and caring for those in her family. She was everything that made you change minds back then and you couldn't have been more grateful. It was only then that you realized just what exactly it was that you were doing and you felt so dirty the moment it became clear as day.

You snapped out of your stupor before it became obvious you were lightyears away and focused on the matches ahead of you.

Snatching the list from Gray's hands (who was too absorbed into fighting off Juvia - as always) to take a glimpse at the letters, you let out a sigh of defeat.

"Can I have a piece too?"

Just as you felt your eyes sliding shut, Natsu bumped into you, nearly making you fall over the handrails but at least, you were awake now.

"Is it finally over?" you leaned back and let out a yawn "Thank God!"

After all, you weren't that much into stuff like tournaments, Fairy Tail was basically the only reason for you to come into this cave of pent-up masses.

Nobody answered you, either tired as well or already on their way through the door and out of the arena, back to their sweet sweet home. You got up quickly and grabbed Erza (still next to you but with a very empty plate - you could only guess Mira had sacrificed her even more cakes) to get out.

It was just then that you noticed how far the sun has gone westwards making you suppress another yawn that made its way up. You got to go to bed soon enough anyway so no need to rush.

The way back out was surprisingly swift and without running into any hostile guilds (lucky you). So you were out before Natsu broke something or bumped into somebody.

"Let's go grab something to eat, (Y/N)? You coming?", you heard Gray's voice from behind you, making you turn around and give him a bright smile - only to decline.

"I'd love to, really, but there is that thing I need to get done yet. Don't worry, I'll be back soon, just start without me.", your voice was sweet enough that you nearly even betrayed yourself, if it hadn't been for that tiny tiny voice in your head.

Why don't you just tell them?

But you brushed it off without a second thought, no need to worry your friends about your self-made worries and troubles.

"Okay...", Erza didn't seem as convinced as you would've liked "You sure?"

A simple nod was enough to soothe her and so, you made your way back into town, taking a stroll through the streets devoid of people or friends. You were alone with your thoughts and the memories that came with them.

You sighed making eye contact with the horizon to take in the way the sun was drowning beneath these parts of bustling streets and places.

You hadn't missed the silence that came with the night for you had heard it over and over again in those sleepless nights.

It shamed you to this day that you hadn't noticed the way he was using you, cocooning you in soft and sweet words to make your finger bleed from hard work and your skin shining from the sweat and tears spilled for him. The worst part of it all was that damned silent voice within you, asking again and again if what you were doing was right.

How could you build weapons of mass destruction meant for thousands with a straight face?

How dared you think sacrificing people to a black wizard could be a way to achieve paradise?

How did you fail to notice that you would never be able to sleep after you were so willing to make these sacrifices more for him than for Zeref after all?

Who knew.

Did I know?

You wondered for years if maybe, just maybe, you had known what you were doing. You probably weren't even able to throw the cloak of ignorance over your shoulders to save yourself from the cold feeling of guilt.

Shame, shame on you.

You hated the way he made you feel so far away from everything like he had built a place away from the wars and the screams of the world, simply made for the two of you.

And again, you failed to notice how it was only the mist caught in between your fingers.

"(Y/N)?"

At first, you thought it was only the back of your mind, playing tricks on you by reviving past days and voices. But after some seconds, you had noticed the silhouette nearby and wondered if you had heard his voice.

Maybe you were going crazy.

At first, you noticed the dark blue hair, sticking out to spite the cloak it was put under, then that tattoo you would notice everywhere.

Jellal Fernandes.

Surprisingly enough, your panicking mind took it upon itself to react, stumping you with the bright - borderline hysterical - laugh that came out of your mouth.

You just couldn't help it. The way he appeared after decades with nothing to say but your name just about the moment you had wallowed in self-hate and guilt was just ridiculous.

Jellal stood quiet, not even his face gave away whatever irritated look he might have had, giving your laugh an untimely end. And that was just about what you needed to come back to your right set of mind.

"What are you doing here?" You didn't bother the biting hate in your voice or the way his shoulders slumped from your tone.

"I came because Erza told me you would be here.", he started when he had straightened again "She said it wouldn't be a good idea but I came because I wanted to speak to you."

You didn't trust the way this man looked so sad. You couldn't.

Not even enough to sit next to him when he scuffled over to the next bench and gestured for you to take a seat.

Not ever, not in a thousand years would you take that seat.

So you stood like a tree, unmoving and unwavering in your place, staring at him and ready to defend yourself by any means.

Would he try anything funny?

From the way, you knew him back then? Definitely.

Surprisingly though, he didn't try to press you into sitting down, instead starting to talk about whatever it was that lead him back to you.

"It took me a very long time to properly realize what had happened in the Tower of Heaven" he started "I did things in there that I never remembered to have said or done, horrible things. And when I remembered, it was like watching through the glass as someone else moved my body."

For the blink of an eye, his hand hovered over his head before he opted to pull down his hood and revealed the dark blue hair. Jellal sighed before he put his face in his hands for a few moments as if he was trying to get ahold of his last pieces of sanity.

"And when I understood what I had done, I felt so, so guilty. I tried to sacrifice hundreds - no, thousands of people, I manipulated you, Milliana, and the others to work for my cause. The worst of it all was the way I led you to believe in the lies I told you over and over again. I remember that look of adoration in your eyes and I misused it for these terrifying things."

The way he spoke of these sins the two of you committed so easily made you relive the shame of it over and over again. It was like your mind couldn't stop.

"I need to atone for these sins, for the things I did to you, and I wanted to start by telling you how sorry I am for the way I treated you and led you into believing these tales.

I do not ask for you to forgive me or to see beyond that, I came here to apologize because that is what you deserve."

For the first time since he started talking, he looked into your eyes as if waiting for your response and your mind came to an abrupt halt.

What exactly was it what you were feeling?

Hate?

Sadness?

Anger?

...No.

For the first time in forever, you could sympathize with him - that person who you had thought of as a monster for much longer than you wanted to admit. He had been taken advantage of and used to do whatever malicious things asked of him. He did not have a choice.

What did he feel like when he discovered how many people had been suffering under him? Was it sorrow? Betrayal? Shock? Or even anger?

And only when you were ready to answer was it that you too were looking into these dark eyes.

"I remember every damn word you spoke whenever you looked at me so fondly and I remember how you laughed at me for even believing in your farce. " you didn't try to cover up the bitterness sneaking in when you recalled your heart break into pieces just like that.

"And now that you are sitting in front of me, asking for forgiveness, I don't even feel the hate anymore." it had stilled to numbness in your heart, always there, but only with that hollow feeling, never leaving.

"I cannot forget", you further explained feeling unshed tears prick in your eyes "My memories have become a part of me and they will never leave again. A Sorry won't fix everything."

By then, two or three tears escaped over your face before you could wipe them away, not escaping Jellals gaze.

He turned to look at the ground for a few seconds, then he moved off the bench and cast a sad smile at you, only to walk away from you as if that was his clue to disappear back into the night.

Only when you understood where he going, you set into motion, reaching out for his hand.

"But..."

The blue-haired male revolved when he felt your hand in his, soft as in those memories he still held close. His eyes became wide at the side of your tearing and red eyes, paired with that tiny, hopeful smile directed at him.

"But... I won't give up on you."

His mouth carved up to mirror your smile as he squeezed your hand just like sunlight kissing your skin.

#fairy tail #jellal fernandes #jellal #jellal x reader #x reader #anime #writing #crime sorciere #reader insert #(y/n)#imagine

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morgana-ren · 3 years

Note

if you'd be so inclined my dear, what are your thoughts on how Tomura's character has developed over the series' timeline? -☼

So, I think Horikoshi did an excellent job at character development- especially considering that he's a villain (not the focal point of the series) and he really didn't have to do that. He easily could have kept Tomura an impudent little man-child, but he didn't, and I truly appreciate that.

So, in season one, we get his debut as USJ, and it became quickly apparent that he was... disorganized. Intelligent and dangerous, clearly, but not quite there yet. He essentially threw money at a pack of sell-sword villains, had a basic plan for how he wanted things to go, and relied on his Nomu to do the majority of his work for him. He didn't even consider variables and other things he couldn't have foreseen- he took Master at his word and just went for it.

He makes a multitude of mistakes during this attack, and it's part of why he fails so hard. Underestimates the kids simply because they're young, not factoring in that these are to be the nations top heroes. Even young, each one is sporting a power that puts them at the top of the class and above the rest of the nation. He basically goes "Fuck it, just scatter them and have these no-name villains kill them. No way that could go wrong." not considering that these children have been learning from the best of the best and are clearly already intelligent of their own accord.

He doesn't take into account that these heroes actually care for these kids and that feeling responsible for them works in their favor as opposed to being a detriment. They fight harder and take more abuse to keep them protected (Aizawa getting absolutely demolished but still persisting to defend the children even as he bleeds to death with a broken body.)

The intel wasn't wrong, per se, but he took it at face value, not even bothering to consider that All Might would push far past his limit to keep these kids safe. For someone as obsessed with felling All Might, he certainly didn't really know a thing about him. His genuine goodness and character would not allow him to fail when their lives were on the line. And then there's the matter of Midoriya, and while Tomura had no way of knowing that he's inherited All Might's power, he should have been able to account for wild cards like that from valiant children dedicated to heroism.

More under the cut because I’m just rambling.

I think this defeat humbles him. For most of his life, things have gone his way because of who is backing him and because he is extremely dangerous with a powerful quirk- this teaches him that raw strength and basic strategy won't be enough.

He watches Stain take the country by storm, and he can't understand it. Doesn't get what the big deal is- he believes he and Stain are mostly cut from the same cloth because of their penchant for violence and murdering heroes, totally blind to the convictions behind Stain's actions. He's incapable of thinking outside of his own view points, and it cripples him. These are his first few steps outside of his own comfort zone and where he begins to grow.

He's forced to consider not what he wants, but why. He resists this every step of the way, but ultimately realizes that paying off little bastard villains to work in his name isn't enough. He needs players under his command that will fight for more than money- and sell swords are loyal to nothing but that. He needs to find a conviction (even as he ends up stealing the mask of one and using it as a facade at first) that others can relate to and be passionate about.

So he does.

He steals Stain's ideology for his own and uses it to recruit some of his top members- even if he is a right little bastard about it at first. While he throws a tizzy fit because they aren't "perfect" (his standards are very high despite the fact that he's arguably not a very effective leader) but eventually ends up utilizing them regardless.

It's around here that he starts sharpening his instincts and learns what it is to be a true leader. He learns he cannot casually throw around his pawns because ultimately, he cannot win this war by himself. 'The enemy of my enemy is my friend' and while he isn't as enchanted with Stain's entire gimmick as his comrades are, he still wields it effectively.

He's still learning, however, as we learn when he takes Bakugo. Had he gone to the effort to get to know a single thing about him, he would have learned very quickly that trying to recruit him would come up completely pointless. He just saw untamed anger and unrestrained violence bordering on unhinged and thought "Ah yes, he's powerful and very much like me- he'll do nicely" and put together a whole plan to kidnap him. I think the vanguard's success in capturing him shows Tomura just how useful it is to have clever little birds under your command, and that sticks with him.

Losing his Master, like AFO says, forces him to become his own man. He loses the cushy abode he'd had for most of his life, loses many of the benefits afforded to him by being AFO's protege. He and his ragtag team of villains live in squalor, almost entirely destitute, and are forced to survive- but they stay loyal, and that means something to him. I think it’s around here where he actually begins to care about them.

We see how he reacts to Magne’s death. I don’t think for one second he aided in destroying Overhaul simply because he was a threat. If that was the case, he would have stopped once he was arrested. He risks everything to get vengeance. Cuts his limbs off and renders him completely helpless as payment for what he did to Compress and to avenge Magne’s wrongful death.

Over the course of everything, he’s become more patient, more cunning, more dangerous. He’s learning quickly from his mistakes, how to command his ranks in a respectful, effective way, and how to keep them safe. He learns their strengths and weaknesses, and while he’s still a bit thorny, it’s very apparent he does care for them. He’s on his own now, and knows he needs greater power, greater numbers to achieve his goals. He is ruthlessly ambitious, willing to endure ungodly amounts of pain to meet his ends.

So now we have this season (which I haven’t actually watched, as I’m just waiting for disappointment because I fucking know Bones won’t do him justice) and he’s seeking out both Gigantomachia, a former ally, and the PLF. Both things that could be of great value to him. His leadership skills and ability to command will be put to the test, but so will his endurance, his willpower, and everything else. This is the beginning of him as a truly devastating threat.

He’s growing into the villain I think he deserves to be. He’s facing down the very bones that comprise him and learning why he is the way he is. What his convictions really are and how far he’s willing to go to achieve his goals. HIs past, his life as he knows it, what needs to be done to put a pretty little ribbon on everything. He is, in a way, shedding like a snake- ridding himself of weaknesses, growing into his strengths, and evolving into a more capable predator.

If you ask me, realistically, I think Shigaraki would actually win. When it’s all said and done, I think his arc is far more compelling than any of the heroes or their children. I think he has more drive, more wit, more raw power and more reasons to keep fighting. A lot of the kids, while cute and the main characters, are quite hollow. But over the course of all these seasons, we get to watch Tomura’s metamorphosis and his evolution into a purer, undiluted evil. He transforms into something truly sinister- a literal manifestation of all of the flaws and pitfalls of society and hero culture as it exists. He is undeniable proof of the toxicity and that the way things are cannot be allowed to stand, and the fact that so many people resonate with him and follow him loyally should be the ultimate clue-in.

I think if the heroes weren’t blinded, they would look at Shigaraki and his league and consider it. Wonder if, just for a moment, there was something there that they should pay attention to. A cry that they should hear rather than be willing deaf to. But they don’t.

Gran Torino is a prime example of this. So are all the other so called ‘heroes’. Calling him evil. Underestimating him. Considering him someone who just woke up one day and decided ‘I don’t like this so I’m going to kill a lot of people’. You’d think that they’d recognize that a drive like his does not come from nothing. If they sat down, shut the fuck up and listened for ten seconds, maybe they wouldn’t be dying by the dozens.

I’m not saying that they should allow him to continue to trample the world and kill at will. But what I am saying is that part of how they’re fighting him and how they’re viewing this in terms of black and white and good versus evil is exactly the fucking problem, and it’s that kind of bullshit that birthed the villain we know as Tomura Shigaraki to begin with.

#Shigaraki #Tomura Shigaraki #just my thoughts on it #Thank you for the question anon!#Morgana and friends

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scapegrace74-blog · 3 years

Text

New Ways of Turning into Stone, Chapter 5

A/N Sorry for the long break between chapters. As some of you might have seen from my Tumblr blog, I’ve been off on vacation these past two weeks. Plus, when I felt the urge to write, it was my new Vaquero AU that kept calling to me (21,000 words and counting!), rather than this fic. Which is probably a good argument for why I don’t like to post WIPs. In any event, here is the next chapter some of you have been asking for, entitled Third Appointment. Be careful what you wish for. Angst ahead, plus a trigger warning for infertility trauma, miscarriage.

The first four chapters are available on my AO3 page.

The Thursday after her impromptu encounter with Jamie and his niece at the Royal Hospital for Children, Claire woke with a strange twisting pain in her gut. Skipping breakfast, she was halfway to her office before she diagnosed herself with an acute case of nerves, the kind that sprouted between her lungs and ribcage like a vestigial organ whose sole purpose was to unsettle her.

She wasn’t in the habit of meeting patients outside of the clinical confines of her practice, but it was more than that. Jamie had caught her in a moment of weakness, with both her personal and professional armour missing. What he might have seen and how he could have interpreted it had occupied her thoughts ever since.

Eating lunch was out of the question. By the time two o’clock approached, her insides were a buzzing hornets’ nest of anxiety, her palms clammy with sweat. A half-empty bottle of Xanax called to her from the bottom of her purse. Before she could weigh the implications of taking one at work on an empty stomach, Jamie’s familiar knock intervened.

She could tell as soon as he entered that Maggie hadn’t needed a transfusion that week. His russet curls shone like garnets in the midday sun and his uncanny eyes glittered like sapphires. Still, he avoided looking directly her way as he settled into his usual chair, and she wondered if the overlap of their personal and professional lives had left him feeling unnerved as well.

“No wheat grass smoothie,” he commented, his gaze running over her desk.

“No, I didn’t have time for lunch today.” It was a blatant falsehood, since she’d spent her lunch hour picking her cuticles until they bled, but he didn’t need to know that.

“Ye should eat more, Sassen..., Doctor Beauchamp. Ye canna help anyone else if ye’re no’ properly nourished.” She caught the slip, and for some reason it angered her.

“Is this your attempt to negotiate a reduction in your fees, Jamie? Dietary advice in return for counselling? Because if so, I’m afraid I don’t bill on the barter system,” she snapped, despising her churlish tone.

Jamie’s eyes narrowed, then dimmed. Message received, he sat up straighter in the armchair and crossed a foot over his knee, assuming a position of poised and detached calm that had no doubt served him well during business negotiations. She regrouped by pretending to glance at her journal for the notes from their previous session, although the space next to his name was accusingly blank.

Boundaries thus defined, the session went surprising well. Jamie spoke of his relief that Maggie’s latest round of chemotherapy was over, allowing her to return home and to some semblance of a regular life for a child of six. Claire coaxed him gently towards the topic of his overwhelming guilt for abandoning his family when he was most needed. Jamie processed pain through the recounting of stories, coming to terms with his self-decreed transgression by weaving together the tale of those he loved and pointing to the holes his absence had caused.

As his resonant voice spun its web of words, Claire became aware of an underlying hum. At first it was subtle, like the mumble of traffic from a far-off motorway. But as their hour together ticked by, it grew in strength until she could no longer ignore the buzz that pressed against her from all directions.

“... saw that it was really Jenny and Ian who I was... Claire? Doctor Beauchamp, are ye well?” Jamie was watching her with concern, and she realized she’d been shaking her head, trying to dislodge the omnipresent hum.

“Yes, I’m... yes. Sorry. Just a funny noise that’s... Please, continue.” When Jamie didn’t immediately pick up the thread of his narrative, she tried again. “You were saying something about Jenny and Ian?”

Instead of continuing his previous thought, Jamie picked that moment to broach the topic she’d desperately hoped he would avoid.

“I hope ye’re no’ upset about the other day, at the hospital. I didna mean tae impose or tae... o’erstep the bounds of our relationship. No’ that we have a relationship, mind,” he hastened to add. “Only a professional one. But when I saw ye, I couldna resist introducing ye tae wee Maggie. I hadna told ye about her yet, and I thought...”

“Jamie, it’s fine,” she cut in, halting his rambling explanation. “She’s a lovely girl. They all are. It’s only that, I’m sort of...”

“Ye’re verra good with them. Children, that is. Ye’ll make a fine mother one day.”

All the oxygen left the room at once. Her heart beat so hard there was a bruised feeling behind her sternum. Launching to her feet, Claire stumbled blindly away from her desk. She wanted to run, to scream, but her vision was a narrow chasm and a now-deafening throb filled her ears. She only made it a few steps before her knees buckled and the carpet floated upwards to meet her.

“Ifrinn!” Jamie leapt to her side, catching her by the shoulders before her head could hit the floor. He lowered them both carefully to the ground, resting her body against his lap. “Sassenach? Claire? Can ye hear me? Do I need tae call an ambulance?” The words reached her from very far away, but the threat of medical intervention acted like a dose of smelling salts.

“No,” she groaned, the room spinning around her like a kaleidoscope. “No hospital. I just... need to eat,” she grasped at the most innocuous explanation for her current state.

Without dislodging her, Jamie stretched his long arm and brought back the small basket of miniature muffins that were the day’s offering from Geillis. With surprising dexterity, he peeled away the paper one-handed and broke apart a bite-sized morsel, holding it gently against her lips. Realizing that her dignity couldn’t get any more battered, Claire opened her mouth and allowed Jamie to feed her. After only a few bites, the buzzing disappeared and she was able to sit up on her own.

“Thank you,” she murmured, afraid to look into his eyes for fear of the pity she knew she’d see there. “You were right. I should have eaten lunch, I guess.”

“Claire.” Jamie made a prose poem of the single syllable of her name. She looked up at him through her lashes, stunned to find him looking back, not with pity, but with something akin to adoration. “Mo nighean donn,” he ran a tender hand through her loosened curls. “Ye need tae care more for yerself.”

“I will. I’ll try.” And when she said it to him, she really meant it. Jamie made the impossible seem probable.

They stared at one another, shoulder to shoulder on the floor of her office. She couldn’t think of anything else to say, but nor did she move. Her gaze flitted over his face, noticing a vestige of boyish freckles across the bridge of his nose, a mole hidden in the harvest stubble on his cheek. Jamie was performing a parallel inventory, eyes finally coming to rest at the level of her mouth.

“Ye’ve got a wee crumb, jus’ there.” Unconscious, her tongue swept out, triggering a predatory response, twin blue laser beams narrowing on the target she had just painted on her lower lip.

“I... I’d verra much like tae kiss ye, Claire. May I?”

An amputated moan was all she could manage in response, but Jamie must have understood its meaning. He bent his head until only a whisper separated them. The air crackled, sending that extra organ plummeting towards her hollow womb. Clenching her eyes shut in defeat, she closed the infinitesimal gap until they met in an effervescent caress of lip and tongue.

Cold washed over her skin, bathing her in gooseflesh. Jamie tasted like he looked; a banquet of fresh, volatile flavours that called to mind a picnic in a meadow, a spray of sea foam, the warmth of hearth and home. She could feel him trembling against her, his moist breath rushing against her cheek in shallow pants. For a score of heartbeats, Claire was the happiest she had ever been. Then, reality crashed down around her.

“I’m sorry,” she stammered, pulling away. “I... this can’t... I’m sorry.”

Jamie leaned back with a mixture of longing and resignation. She hated adding herself to his list of regrets, but it was for the best.

“I’m your doctor, Jamie. This isn’t right.”

“Aye, I ken. I should apologize, but I canna seem tae find it in me tae repent.”

Jamie stood, reaching down to help Claire up as well. As soon as it was apparent she was able to stand on her own, he dropped her hand as though it burned. The line between his brows deepened, and she could see the question forming before he gave it voice.

“What if ye werena my doctor? Would it be right then?”

“That’s neither here nor there, because I am, Jamie. A relationship between patient and doctor of a romantic nature is ethically off-limits.”

Jamie nodded, apparently accepting her explanation at face value. Her heartbeat calmed. He moved slowly, gathering his coat and starting to leave.

“But what if ye weren’t?” he said, facing the door. “If we’d met at the hospital, or out on the town?”

“I...” she stammered, searching desperately for any answer except for the truth. “No, Jamie,” she said at last, watching as she destroyed his last bastion of hope. “I’m sorry. I just don’t feel that way about you.”

Nodding abruptly, Jamie let himself out of the office. She listened to his low murmuring voice through the door as he spoke to Geillis, heard him make an appointment for the following week, then the loud snap of the main door closing. Only then did she allow herself to collapse once more to the floor, angry sobs overtaking her.

***

“Are ye out of yer fuckin’ mind?” Geillis inquired with her usual brutal eloquence.

With the help of a Xanax, Claire had managed to see her last two patients of the day, and only needed to navigate the shoals of her office manager’s ire before she could go home and fully medicate herself into a dreamless sleep.

“Jes so we’re clear, ye want me tae write a letter terminating your services as a doctor an’ suggesting suitable alternative providers? An’ ye want me tae send this letter, over email, tae Jamie Fraser?”

“That’s right.” She had determined that icy calm was the best antidote to this conversation, which was fortuitous, since she felt numb all over.

“An’ what reason am I tae give fer this abrupt conclusion tae yer association wi’ Mr. Fraser?”

“I don’t owe him an explanation. Only sufficient notice and an opportunity to seek counselling elsewhere,” she said, feigning reasonableness.

Pushed past her limits, Geillis rose from behind her desk, a tiny tempest of moral indignation.

“Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp, ye are a good friend, a fine doctor an’ a fair employer. But I swear by the Almighty that if ye dinna drop the façade and tell me wha’ is going on I am going tae smack ye until yer ears ring!”

There was a certain relief in knowing that Geillis wouldn’t take no for an answer. And unlike Jamie, she knew where Claire lived and would not let her rest until the truth came out.

“He kissed me. Or rather, I kissed him. And I liked it! That’s why, Geillis.”

Her friend’s shoulders sagged, all righteousness gone in an instant. She reached around Claire’s frame and held her in a bone-crushing one-sided hug.

“Och, hen. An’ ye figured ye could deal wi’ those pesky feelings by jes, what? firing him as yer patient?”

“I can’t deal with this right now, Geillis. I can’t feel the way he makes me feel. And this practice is all that I have left. There’s no way I can risk losing it just for an affair that won’t even last the summer.”

She didn’t need to elaborate on her reasons for that dire prediction. Geillis knew them as well as anyone.

“He’s an intelligent man, Claire. He’s gonna ken something is up. Moreover, he’s a good man. He deserves tae hear the truth.”

Shaking her head sadly, Claire walked towards the door. Just before exiting, she called back softly to her friend.

“Geillis? Make sure to include Dr. Rafferty’s name on the list of referrals. I think they’d be a good match.

***

Monday morning dawned with little promise for the fledgling week. Moving robotically through her weekend routine, Claire thought frequently of chickens. How their bodies kept moving once their heads were lopped off, nerves and muscle and bone continuing to function for a time despite the fatal blow.

The elevator chimed its arrival on her floor. As the doors slide open, Jamie was the first thing she saw. He loomed by her still-locked office, a sun-topped thundercloud gripping a sheet of printer paper.

She’d worn her best black suit and a pair of chunky heels that brought her closer to his height. Perhaps, on some subconscious level, she’d anticipated this confrontation. Perversely, she relished it. Vitriol and deceit didn’t suit her, but it was preferable to feeling absolutely nothing.

“Do ye mind tellin’ me,” Jamie began before she’d even set foot in the hallway, “jus’ what this is about, Claire?” He brandished the paper like a wanted poster.

“I would think it was self-explanatory, actually. I’m terminating our professional relationship,” she huffed, golden eyes coming to life for the first time since Thursday.

“Via email. Sent tae me by Miss Duncan, because ye dinna have the guts tae do it yerself. Christ, Sassenach, even my ninth grade sweetheart didna dump me so cruelly!”

“I’m not your sweetheart!” she burst out, a flood of emotion cresting with her rising anger. “Don’t call me that! I was your doctor, Jamie, and now I’m nothing to you. Nothing. Just go. Please. Just go,” she finished weakly and without any hope that he’d listen.

“All this jus’ because I kissed you?” Jamie persevered. At her stubborn silence, he continued, “Nah, I dinna think so. Ye’re many things, Claire, but a coward isna one of them.”

She found this hysterically funny, since a coward was the only role she played to perfection. She didn’t have time to laugh, however, because Jamie was suddenly standing much closer, forcing her to lift her chin to meet his stormy eyes.

“Nah,” he continued smoothly, a big cat alerted to the smell of its prey. “If ye’d objected tae the kiss, ye would have told me so. Read me the riot act or kneed me in the bawls. I think ye’re scared, Doctor Beauchamp. I think that kiss terrified ye, because ye realized ye liked it. Somethin’ ye couldna plan for in yer wee journal, right there under yer nose. Bet it made yer heart beat so fast. So fast, jus’ like it is now.”

Jamie’s hand rested gently over the placket of her suit jacket, where he could surely feel the trip hammering of her pulse.

“Please,” she begged. “Don’t. I can’t...”

“Can’t what, Sassenach?” he whispered back, goading her.

The truth hung on her lips, and the toll of the past few days meant that she no longer had the strength to stop it from spilling forth.

“Can’t have children. Ever. I tried, for years. Fourteen miscarriages, fourteen lost chances. And seeing you with those children last week. I know it’s presumptive, but I could never deny you that chance, Jamie. That’s why I can’t see you anymore.”

She was looking down, watching the buttons of his shirt rise and fall with his agitated breath, but as she finished speaking, their movement ceased. Chancing a glance upward, she was stunned by the fury that had overtaken his expression.

Jamie opened and closed his mouth several times before he managed to speak in a gritty growl.

“Mutation of the RUNX1 gene tha’ causes leukemia. I was tested, along wi’ Jenny an’ Ian, after Maggie was diagnosed. I have a fifty percent chance of passing it along tae my children. An’ since I canna stand the thought of ano’er bairn havin’ tae suffer as Maggie has, as soon as I got the test results, I went out an’ had a vasectomy.”

Claire recoiled as though she’d been slapped, a high pitched whine in her ears.

“Ye’re no’ the only one who’s hurting, Claire!” Jamie continued, voice dashing against the rocks of her name. “We’re no’ meant tae suffer alone. Ye, of all people, should ken that.”

Stunned in the silence following the thunderclap of his revelation, she couldn’t find the words to express her sorrow, her outrage, and her crippling shame. By the time the power of speech returned, Jamie was gone.

#my writing #outlander

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jessie9008 · 3 years

Text

Coffee and Bread

Hey guys so this is my first fanfic ever so I really hope you enjoy it!!!! I based some of it on my life. Sorry if it sucks.

Summary: Y/N’s grandpa had recently just passed away and they have been really sad and no one from class 1-A has been able to make her feel better. Until little Eri comes in and wants to make Y/N’s sadness go away. Eri thinks of YN as an older sibling so she really wants to cheer YN up.

(Sorry if I’m bad at summaries)

Word Count: 1.6K

Contains: Mentions of death and a little bit of angst but with a happy ending!!!

Coffee and Bread

It has been 3 weeks since the passing of YN’s grandpa, and it feels that their heart has been torn to pieces. YN has worked so hard to make their grandfather proud, but now that he's gone there is no point to continuing. Being once filled with ambition, they are now hollow. They’ve locked themselves in their room, unable to go outside because everywhere they look they see their grandpa. Leading to them refusing to speak to anyone in fear of breaking down and looking weaker than they already do now. Many of their classmates wonder what is going on with their friend’s head wishing that they can help them through this difficult time. All YN is able to do now is replay all the memories of their grandfather in their head day and night with tears streaming down their face. YN is drowning in endless pain, desperately reaching out for salvation even when knowing that nothing or no one will be able to make them feel happy again.

Mina stared at YN’s door taking a deep breath before she knocked. “Hey YN the whole class is going to the mall just to hang out, why don’t you come with us?” she asked.

I stared at the door with sunken eyes, licked my chapped lips and whispered “No thank you”. I curled deeper into my blankets hoping that Mina would understand that I don’t want to go out.

“YN you’ve been in your room for days now, you need to go out and get some fresh air”

“Please Mina I just want to be left alone” I begged. “I know you are hurting YN, but we are here to help you. You shouldn’t be suffering all by yourself” Mina pleaded.

I yelled back “please just leave me alone”

There was silence on the other side of the door. Mina let out a tired sigh and walked away in defeat.

I let out a tired sigh, relieved that she finally left me alone. I walked to my balcony to see what the outside looked like. I opened up my blinds and winced at how bright it is. It looks so beautiful outside, it reminded me of how my grandpa would set up a table outside on days like these, turn on his radio, and pull out a deck of cards to play a game of war. This memory brought tears to my eyes. It hurts so much, all I think about is him, and how I won’t be able to hear his laugh, see his smile, or feel his hug. Why did he have to leave me so soon? It’s not fair he was supposed to see me graduate, give me the biggest hug and tell me how proud he is that I’m going to be a pro hero. I just wished that I could have said goodbye, and told him that I loved him one more time. I let out another sob, my knees grow weak, and I fall to the ground. I look up at my ceiling closing my eyes as I cry myself to sleep.

Timeskip

Midoriya places the plate of food in front of YN’s door after getting no response from them. He walks back to his classmates with a defeated look. Eri looks up from her plate and notices that YN isn’t with them eating dinner. She goes up to Midoriya with a confused face.

“Deku why isn’t YN eating dinner with us?” Midoriya crouched down to Eri’s level “YN is really sad right now. They lost their grandpa, and he meant a lot to them.”

“Will their grandpa come back soon so they can be happy again?” Midoriya gives her a sad look, “YN grandpa passed away, so he won’t be able to come back to make YN happy.”

With a determined look on her face “Well if their grandpa can’t make them happy anymore then I’ll be the one to do it.” A small smile spreads on Midoriya’s face, “Maybe you will make them happy again.” He stood up and held out his hand to Eri, and he led her to the dining room so they could have dinner. While eating Eri decided that once she finished her food, she would go to YN’s room to cheer her up.

Once finished Eri ran to put her dish in the sink, and rushed towards YN’s room. She stood in front of the door and took a deep breath in. Her small hands grabbed on to the door knob and slowly opened the door. She quietly closed the door and walked towards YN. She can hear their quiet sobs and it breaks her heart that they are hurting all alone. She climbs onto their bed and lays next to them, Eri pulls YN into a hug and they start to sob uncontrollably. “It’s okay YN, I know you miss him, but I am here to take care of you” she softly pats their head. “Can you tell me about your grandpa? I want to hear all your stories about him.” YN looked up at the young girl and gave her a weak smile “Okay” They went into a sitting position, now Eri is leaning against them. YN clears their throat “When I was about your age I used to sleepover at my grandpa’s every weekend. Around 5 in the morning he would wake me up with a big cup of coffee and some bread, and he would turn on the TV to our favorite show. Once we finished our coffee and bread, he would put everything and go outside so we could water his plants. This is one of my favorite memories of him.” YN’s voice cracked in the end. “He was such an amazing person. He is the main reason why I want to become a hero because all he did was help others and try to bring a smile to their face.” Tears were streaming down YN’s face and Eri pulled them into a hug. Eri rubbed YN’s back gently putting her into a deep sleep. She got off their bed and started to plan out how to make YN happy.

Eri heads to Mr. Aizawa’s room “Mr. Aizawa can you help me with something?” He looked up from his computer, “Of course what do you need help with?”

“YN has been really sad and I want to make them happy. They just told me that their grandpa and them would wake up early to eat coffee and bread and watch their favorite show. Can you help me make the coffee?’’

With a small smile on his face “How about we make you both hot chocolate instead because you are still too young to drink coffee.”

With a big smile on her face Eri exclaimed “Okay”

Time Skip

The next morning comes and Eri wakes up with a determined look on her face. She jumped out of bed, and woke up Aizawa so he could heat up some hot chocolate and make toast for her and YN. Eri goes to the common room and places a couple of blankets and pillows on the couch to use while they watch some morning cartoons. Once Aizawa put the toast and hot chocolate on the table, Eri ran up to YN’s dorm room. Once in front of the door Eri knocked very timidly. YN groans at the light knocking, and gets up from her warm bed. They cracked the door open to see Eri staring at them with bright eyes and a smile.

“Good morning YN! Can you come with me to the common room please? I have a surprise for you!” Eri exclaimed.

YN let out a small sigh and nodded. Eri excitedly grabbed their hand and led them to the common area. As they enter the common area YN notices the toast and hot coco on the coffee table and a bundle of blanket and pillows on the couches. They look down at Eri with a confused look on her face and ask “What's all this?”

Eri smiled wide “This is to cheer you up, I wanted to remake one of your memories that you had with your grandpa. Do you like it?”

YN smiled at the young girl with tears in her eyes, and hugged the young girl, “I love it thank you so much”

Eri giggled and led them to the couch to get under the covers and watch cartoons. YN sat down and Eri climbed onto their lap and pulled the blanket over them.

“Thank you so much Eri, this really nice, it makes me feel like I am with my grandpa.”

“I’m glad you like it YN! If you want we can do this every weekend?”

“I would love that Eri”

Eri smiled and cuddled into YN's chest and started to eat her toast and drink her hot coco.

After a couple of minutes Aizawa enters the common area to check on them and he notices them fast asleep on the couch, he smiles slightly and starts to pick up the mugs and plates. He goes to the couch and places another blanket over the two sleeping children and heads back to his room to go back to bed.

#aizawa x y/n #mha imagines #my hero academia #eri #i hope yall like this #eri x reader #mha angst #mha x reader #mha fluff #aizawa imagine

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cruelfeline · 4 years

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I’ve been thinking about various aspects of SPoP, as I am wont to do, and as often happens, I’ve settled on trying to figure out why I feel a certain way. Namely regarding why I, personally, am able to feel so much more compassion towards Hordak rather than towards the Princesses. After all, the Princesses are the ones being wronged throughout this show, aren’t they? Their lands are being invaded. They’re the ones having to fight to maintain their way of life. They’re losing ground because of Hordak’s war.

So... why do I find it hard to care about them? Why are their experiences in this conflict just sort of... well, meaningless to me?

And why, instead, do my tender emotional responses strongly favor Hordak, despite his serious role in starting a terrible war?

Well! As per usual, I’m going to try to talk my way through it.

(and, as per usual, your mileage may vary!)

Let’s start with the Princesses. They range from children to young adults. Seem like reasonably nice girls, despite various flaws. They clearly did not ask for a war, had no hand in starting it, and are clearly on the side of good, seeking to protect innocents and simply return to a peaceful way of life.

They appear perfectly designed to garner sympathy and connection... yet I feel so little for them. I feel little because, despite the show telling me that they’re fighting for their lives, and for their home, despite them being the apparent underdogs in their battle against the Horde, I feel like their lives remain relatively stable. Pleasant. Even enjoyable.

Essentially, I feel like despite everything, they do not truly suffer. Not in a way that is consistent or touching.

The arcs the Princesses go through either deal largely with matters unrelated to the war and subsequently involve less arduous difficulties, or are handled in such a way that any real pain is quickly resolved and loses its impact.

Frosta and Perfuma represent the former. Both are parentless rulers of their kingdoms, but there is no real confirmation that their parents were killed by the Horde, and they themselves seem largely unperturbed by parental loss. They maintain control of their kingdoms throughout the series. Frosta never loses the Kingdom of Snows, while Perfuma, though in brief danger of losing Plumeria due to damage to the Heart Blossom, ends up... well, defeating the Horde with a band of untrained hippies. So while they fight in the war against Hordak, they never really suffer any significant, confirmed personal losses because of it.

In fact, the Plumerian conflict is... kind of played for laughs.

The other aspects of their arcs have largely to do with friendship matters, or self-belief, and are also dealt with quickly and with little fanfare. Frosta learns how to make friends. Perfuma learns how to play with cacti. Afterwards, Frosta spends the remainder of the story essentially being a violence-happy little kid; amusing, yes, but not particularly tugging at my heartstrings. Perfuma likewise settles into “sympathetic friend” and, though she’s involved in Scorpia’s story at the end, also does little to invoke any sort of significant emotion.

we’re just going to skirt around the whole “leashing Entrapta” thing, as it’s not relevant to this discussion

(Spinnerella and Netossa barely even register to me, given their very bare-bones roles in the first four seasons and standard “chipped loved one” narrative (that everyone experiences) in the fifth.)

So, let’s move on to Glimmer and Mermista.

Glimmer and Mermista are arguably the two Princesses who actually lose unique things in the war and suffer because of those losses. And yet, because of the way the show is written, even their pain is dulled in such a way that it just does not facilitate me forming any sort of consistent, compassionate bond with them.

Mermista is the only Princess to actually lose a kingdom. In Hordak’s most visible evil act, Salineas is burned and beflagged, leading to Mermista deeply mourning the loss of her home, her culture, her peop- oh. Hm.

She takes it oddly well, doesn’t she? Apparently, ice cream in a bathtub is how deposed rulers deal with the loss of their entire country nowadays.

And once she’s done with her moment of moping, she’s back in the fight, fueled by Sea Hawk’s shenanigans and her own power ballad (and Bright Moon’s lack of ice cream). There is no extended mourning for her people, no real depth to the loss she has supposedly suffered. There’s not even a real sense of it: we never see the people of Salineas, never know them, never get to feel anything for them. And with them being all but theoretical, the show appears to have no issue quickly forgetting them: Mermista never negotiates on their behalf, or visits refugees, or... anything. She might use Salineas in her future battle cries and as an excuse for increased recklessness, but that homage is the extent of emotion that we see.

Kingdom gone, bathtub ice cream finished, she goes on living life as if little has happened. And, because of her royal connections, she doesn’t even experience a decrease in quality of life: she continues to live in luxurious comfort despite an apparently raging war.

Because of how the writing handles Salineas, and her character in general, I never feel connected to how Mermista feels. Whatever pain she experiences is there and gone in a few scenes, quickly dealt with so the story can continue. There is no exploration, no nuance, nothing to really make me appreciate any sort of depth to her experience. And so I feel little, if anything, for her plight.

Glimmer, then, is the last chance the show has to make me feel something for the Alliance Princesses’ suffering during this war, and while season four nearly does it, the series again ends up falling short.

Glimmer loses her mother. The actual sacrifice is emotional... though that emotion, admittedly, comes mainly from Adora. Glimmer’s pain comes through at the beginning of season four, when she is clearly in mourning all while needing to take Angella’s place as queen. Afterwards, season four does a fairly good job of making the loss meaningful: Glimmer becomes more and more willing to commit dark acts due to a mixture of grief and desperation. It works well, and out of all of the Princesses, I feel for her the most... until season five comes along and pretty much erases Angella from character consciousness.

Angella’s death essentially plays no role in season five. Glimmer does not appear to think back to it. While it drives her actions during season four, it appears to have been all but forgotten now, a particularly glaring shift when Catra, the one who is practically responsible, joins the group without it coming up at all. Glimmer’s other parental loss, Micah, likewise becomes meaningless not because of questionable writing choices, but because he simply never died.

Glimmer’s other problem, her rift with Bow and Adora, is repaired within an episode and never spoken of again. That... falls quite flat for me.

And so, by the end of the series, Glimmer fails to maintain a believable level of distress and thus doesn’t invoke any real emotion in me. The one thing that really mattered, that really hurt her? Suddenly irrelevant in the name of Catra’s redemption. Hm.

And while these are the specific character examples that come to mind, the general situation the Princesses find themselves also fails to carry much weight in my mind. They are in the middle of a war, yet they continue to live in luxury. Skirmishes carry a sense of light-heartedness and sometimes seem almost fun. Battle plans are developed via a game of DnD. There is just no consistent sense of urgency or severity, no believable sense of emotional depth to convey to me that these characters are in truly dire straits. Yes, there are moments... but these moments are so brief, and carry such questionable lasting impact, that they don’t connect with me the way that they should. And as a result, the plight of the Princesses just feels hollow to me.

I just... I just find myself unable to care about them because, when all is said and done, I don’t feel like they are truly in danger of real harm, or that they are realistically affected by their losses. It all just feels so shallow to me.

Now, let’s pivot and look at Hordak. Hordak, whom I still cry over on the daily. Hordak, who has owned my heart for over a year now. Hordak, who invokes in me all of the emotions.

What is the difference between Hordak and the Princesses, other than the glaring fact that he is the instigator of the Etherian war and thus a bad, bad man? What makes him snap my heartstrings in half, while the Princesses barely manage a gentle tug?

The answer is that Hordak legitimately suffers. Terribly. Consistently. Throughout the entire series. While the Princesses experience brief moments of distress that the show quickly sweeps under the rug in favor of witty banter and friendship problems, Hordak is the direct opposite: he experiences only the occasional breath of happiness while otherwise drowning in a constant sea of bitterness, fear, pain, and deep unhappiness.

From the moment we meet him, Hordak is stern and humorless and angry, and while this initially appears to be a side effect of him being a Standard Ultimate Villain Who Never Smiles, we quickly learn that it is due to his struggle. Hordak is constantly struggling against his physical defect, battling an illness that causes him not only significant health problems, but incredible shame. He is likewise constantly struggling to earn the respect and validation and nonexistent love of his god-brother. His sour demeanor, with all of its anger and dourness, originates in the fact that, throughout the overwhelming majority of the series, he is gravely unhappy. He is in ever-present distress, both physical and emotional.

And as the series goes on, does that distress lessen? No. No, instead, he is rejected by his brother, thoroughly humiliated, and brutally “reset” back into his life as an actual cult slave. Rather than having his difficulties minimized like so many Princesses do, he finds himself in ever-worsening circumstances, graduating from (supposed) “disgraced, disabled military veteran” to “enslaved cultist desperate to be loved by his loveless master.”

Any moments of happiness are not only relatively brief, they are taken away as quickly as the Princesses’ moments of difficulty are. Hordak experiences love and friendship for the first time with Entrapta, only to swiftly lose her to Catra’s lies and spiraling madness. He finally begins to win the Etherian War (which is bad, yes, I know), only to realize that his victories stem from Catra’s betrayal before the whole affair culminates in Prime’s nauseating violation of his personhood.

It does not stop. Physically, mentally, or emotionally: not until his triumph over Prime in the season five finale does Hordak stop hurting, and even that is marred by Prime taking control of his body in a final act of nightmarish control before, bless him, Hordak is freed and able to begin his recovery.

In addition to being a series constant, Hordak’s pain is conveyed. It is dramatically shown through facial expressions, through body language, through phenomenal voice work, through scenes that clearly depict real anguish.

The purification ritual is one of them; what other character do we hear scream like that, over and over, due to such terrible agony? His reunion with Prime is another; I will never forget how deeply I could sense his fear, how watching him tremble and beg instilled within me a sort of breathless panic because the scene actually made me want to instinctively protect him... but I could not because, y’know: cartoon.

Hordak’s suffering is not only ever-present, it is varied and developed and communicated to the viewer in ways that result in it making a lasting impression. It is never minimized. It is never ignored. It is painful and horrifying with little reprieve, and it has a deep, life-altering effect on him.

That, friends and neighbors, is why I think I find myself feeling so much more compassion towards Hordak than I do towards the Princesses, despite his less-enticing place on the moral spectrum. Hordak is in pain. Consistently, meaningfully. He suffers, and the story takes it with every ounce of seriousness it can muster.

The Princesses, on the other hand, either experience little hurt or, when they do suffer, do so briefly before the narrative shoves it aside in favor of Catradora other things. As a result, they fail to make the same impression. They fail to garner my compassion because, in the end, they just don’t seem to really need it.

Whereas Hordak does.

#hordak #spop princesses

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ultimatetrashgoblin · 3 years

Text

Blaire Reviews: Nahara Season 2

Disclaimer: All of this is my opinion, you are allowed to disagree with me. (Minor spoilers for Wrath as I do compare an event in her route to this one)

Thank you @onehopefuldreamer for your request!

First impressions

What a way to start a season! Nahara’s heart has just shattered, and she and MC are standing there dumbfounded by a seemingly impossible event happening less than a minute after their first kiss! MC feels she’s at fault, believing that the kiss is the reason for this.

Nahara is (understandably) very distraught by this situation, and we watch this normally very calm and collected woman fall apart trying to grasp an explanation for what has happened to her. I feel like this scene best describes what both MC and the reader are feeling.

MC cares about Nahara. She doesn’t want to see her suffering like this. When Nahara’s heart shattered, so did her sense of reality and security. She felt empty, hollow, alone.

A seer, by definition, is someone who is able to see what the future holds through supernatural insight. But she’s uncertain of what might become of this, and for her, that might be the most terrifying thing of all.

To move onto lighter topics, I am in LOVE with Nahara’s room, and representation for people who have multiple cups in their room is very appreciated.

The group reacts about as calmly as you’d expect people to react when they’ve just been told that their friend’s heart shattered. And gotta love Ripley’s “heart stealer” joke (Lovestruck please let me date her).

We got a very fun, low-stakes introduction to Shadow Renzei’s long lost twin, and the shocking reveals that MC knew this guy from high school (when I tell you I gasped).

My one question is if Shadow is a fail safe for the troupe, where was he in other routes when they almost died? Or does he only carry out his orders once the troupe is already dead?

To add to that, where is the troupe during all of this? Shouldn’t they be informed if their Seer has an evil doppelgänger? Or that their Seer’s heart shattered? Because I’m willing to bet Malakai has some book with a ritual that could help with this situation. Nahara has always been there to assist the troupe when they needed help, why couldn’t they return the favor? Also if alternate dimension Ripley is still human, does that mean Onyx never became the envy assassin? LOVESTRUCK I NEED ANSWERS

Moving on, a piece of Nahara’s heart just... comes back. Because of course it does. Slightly anticlimactic and raises several more questions, but Nahara is happy, and that’s all that matters.

Before I get into the finale (because w o w), I want to take a moment to talk about Cristal and Fifi.

Firstly, as someone who is also an enby who happens to appear more feminine, if I catch anyone misgendering Cristal, you will catch these hands. They are non-binary, they use they/them pronouns, and if you want to try to argue that they “look like a girl”, unfollow me right now. (Gender in fashion is a myth and social construct anyway, wear what you want and don’t let anyone give you shit for it, you are and always will be valid in your identity.)

Despite me wanting to date both Cristal and Ripley, I’m also strongly shipping them together in this route. And the scene where Ripley reveals that her Cristal died was heartbreaking, and the way Cristal tries so hard to brush it off when they’re clearly having trouble dealing with this information just-

In short, Cristal is a precious baby and I would die for them any day.

And then there’s Fifi. I don’t mean to sound like a bitch (granted, I am a huge bitch, but not intentionally), but what purpose does she have in this route? Unless she turns into some sort of villain (which might be the case seeing as she clearly holds some sort of resentment towards MC), I really don’t get why she needs to be here. Honestly, I think this route would be better without her. She’s not that likable as a character, and she doesn’t seem to be that helpful. Personally, I could’ve done without her.

Now the ending, holy shit the ending. Nahara decides that she needs to travel to the alternate world and defeat her evil self before she gets the chance to come to their world. Shadow agrees to help Nahara travel between worlds so she’ll be able to get back and Cristal doesn’t have to die.

To Fifi’s credit, her being concerned about Cristal’s safety during this ritual does give her some likability, but she still doesn’t seem very useful.

I feel like the cliffhanger was slightly predictable, especially so early on. Obviously MC was going to end up in the other world so she could help Nahara fight evil Nahara (who has abnormally large eyes for some reason). But the last thing I was expecting was MC’s dad to show up. I actually forgot about him after Wrath’s route ended.

The next point is going to include a minor spoiler for Wrath’s route, so if you haven’t read her route yet (which I highly recommend you do), skip the next point.

Does MC’s dad in the alternate world know about demons? Or did they switch it up and have the mom be the one to know about it? Or do neither of them know about it in this world?

Another question I have is if the MC from the other world died, wouldn’t the dad be more surprised by her being alive? Or is this a third world where she didn’t die? And if she didn’t die, wouldn’t that mean there’s two MCs in that world? Hopefully these will be answered in season 3.

Final thoughts

I adore Nahara and her route. It’s well written, the pacing is good, and Nahara herself is a goddess among humans and we are not worthy of her.

However, in reviewing this season, I discovered that there were actually quite a few plot holes that left me with a lot of unanswered questions. And Fifi is a pointless addition to the cast (again this is my personal opinion you’re allowed to like her), and the route would’ve been better without her.

Overall rating: 8/10

Also, I’ve had a few people message me asking me to include my favorite CG in my reviews, and after careful consideration (because I love all of them) I choose this one:

#blaire reviews #nahara byrd #sin with me

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n0-eyedtaissa · 3 years

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Don’t You Forget About Me (Outer Banks OC x The Pogues): Chapter Two

tagging: @hughstheforcelou @reggiemantleholdmyhand-tle @cactiem @kazinejghafa, chapter one can be found here!

Part One: 1 Year before the big move

key event: 2 days after clementine’s seventeenth birthday

The aftermath of a birthday was often a tumultuous thing. The focus on aging and the passage of time made Clementine overthink everything: the pain in her left knee from when she sprained it playing soccer, the pain in her back from how she slouched over while sitting in bed, the bags under her eyes from staying up to late. Did she feel older? More mature? Did she feel different at all? Clementine stood in front of the full length mirror in her bedroom and gives herself a slow once-over, seeing if she can see anything different about herself. She leans in close to the mirror, hot breath fogging up the glass, studying her reflection as she scrutinized herself. She gives up easily, not liking how critical she was being to herself. Her mother, Natalie, always told her and Kimber that the best thing they could do for their self esteem was to look at themselves with kind eyes. Clementine exhales and rests her forehead on the mirror as she takes a moment to recollect herself, shaking off any negative thoughts she had about herself and her reflection now that they were both another year older. She closes her eyes and breathes in through her nose and out through her mouth, taking a moment to listen to everything around her. Clementine can hear the fish tank in the dining room as it percolates, she can hear her dad’s boisterous laugh coming from the living room as he sits with his feet up after a long day, catching up on all of his shows. What she didn’t expect to hear, however, was the sharp voice of her sister in the room next door as she spoke to someone on the phone in a series of harsh whispers.

“No! I didn’t know, how could you even say that?” Clementine hears Kimber raise her voice, although she was trying hard to remain calm and quiet. There’s a mutter of a response from whoever was on the other line but it’s too soft for Clementine to be able to decipher what the other person was saying.

“Of course it is…there was only you, you know that” Kimber says, soft and sad. Only you. It gives Clementine enough context to put the pieces together. She didn’t know what Kimber was talking about, but she knew who she was talking to: Liam Gatwin, Gat. The boy from across the street, first Mate on the Vita Caprice; Kimber’s Gat

Clementine gulps and presses her ear to the wall.

Across the bedroom, Clementine’s cellphone bleats out with a notification sound and the suddenness of it startles her so much that she hits her head against the wall, the hollow sound echoing against the thin walls. “Shit, shit, shit” She scrambles back towards her bed, head spinning as she hoped that Kimber wouldn’t be popping her head in to see what all the noise was about. Clementine sits on her bed for a handful of anxious minutes before she determined the coast is clear.

Finally deciding to pick up her phone, Clementine is confused as to why she’s been sent a handful of links from her Uncle Greg. ‘Show these to ur dad, will ya? XO, G’ She taps on each of them, a string of job offers and house listenings in Kildere County, the Outer Banks. It'd only been a day and a half since the party when Lyle told his younger brother that he'd think about relocating the North Carolina. He never said a true, flat-out yes — he never did. Lyle Adams was an indecisive man to his core, so why was he already looking into jobs and houses in another state?

Clementine exits her bedroom slowly and quietly, trying to be cavalier as she shuffled her way towards the kitchen to get a glass of water. She cranes her neck and tries to listen carefully as she passes Kimber’s closed door, the ‘Keep Out’ sign only furthering the distance between the two sisters. Part of her wants to raise her hand up to the door and knock, but another part of Clementine liked that she got to be the one to keep secrets for once. She shakes the idea from her head and continues to trudge up the hallway, her bare feet sticking against the kitchen floor as she tiptoed to the refrigerator.

“What’re you into, kid?” Lyle calls out from his spot on the couch, not even bothering to turn away from the television show his eyes were glues to. ‘Something about fishing…how apropos’ Clementine thinks to herself.

“Water” She mumbles, pulling a glass from the cabinet and filling it up from the refrigerator. She’s too busy lost in thoughts about the Outer Banks to realize that her cup was brimming over with water from the filter so she leaves it in on the counter, not bothering to wipe up what spilled. Clementine stands in the middle of the kitchen for a minute, unbeknownst to her father, contemplating whether or not to bring up the texts that she received. She knows that this isn’t something she’d be able to hold onto for long, the prospect of packing up the house that she grew up in and moving from Florida to North Carolina was something that warranted a conversation as a family, it shouldn’t just get to be a decision that her dad made on behalf of everybody.

“Hey, uh, dad?” She mumbles nervously, shuffling around the kitchen island to step down into the living room and into her father’s line of sight.

“Yeah?” Lyle groans like old men often do as he shifts his position on the big couch in order to get a better look at his youngest daughter. “What’s on your mind, Clem?”

She pulls her phone from the waistband of her pajama shorts and opens the string of texts from Uncle Greg, tossing her phone onto the couch cushion next to her dad. “Care to explain?” She raises her eyebrow and tries to use the same parental tone he always used on her and Kimber.

Lyle picks up Clementine’s phone and tries to squint through the brightness in order to better read what was on her cracked screen. As soon as he can read Job Offering: Kildere County, Outer Banks he knows that the gig is up and he can’t hide it anymore. He sighs, running his hand over the scruff of his beard. “He was supposed to send those to my email…”

“What happened to just thinking about it?” Clementine feels her throat tighten up, her pulse on the uptick as she's overcome with a wave of anxiety and betrayal.

Lyle stands up from his spot on the couch, resting his weight on the arm of the couch as he tried to level with Clementine. “I am thinking about it, okay? There’s a lot of jobs out there — jobs that pay a lot more than I’m making over here. They had a big storm over there last summer and it made the sandbar shift, your uncle says that the fish are basically begging to be caught!”

Clementine scoffs, rolling her eyes at her father and his blind optimism. “You know he’d tell you anything you wanted if it meant that you’d be closer to him, he’s a lonely fucking bastard, dad.”

Lyle’s eyes light up at her comment. “Clementine how dare you say that about my brother — your uncle! Especially after he came all this way just to see you on your birthday!”

Clementine can’t believe the words her dad is saying: “I wouldn’t be surprised if the only reason he came was to talk you further into moving” She wants to raise her voice now, she knows that her uncle wouldn’t come all the way from North Carolina only because it was her birthday. The two of them had to have been planning this for some time now.

It’s clear that Lyle is taken aback by his daughter’s accusations, though he wasn’t confirming or denying them. “It’s not like that, okay? Clem I promise you, no one was going behind your back or your sister’s. A lot of good opportunities are falling in my lap right now and I’d be foolish not to take them…”

Clementine scoffs at her father again. “What, do you just expect all of us to pack up our lives and go? Everything we love is here, dad! Our friends are here, our family, school? Do you expect me to leave right before I’m supposed to graduate?” She can’t help but start to panic, thinking about what would happen if she had to move schools after her junior year.

Lyle takes a moment to breathe, to check his tone and his temper so he doesn’t run the risk of upsetting his daughter even further. “Clem, you’re a good kid, you’ll make friends no matter where you go. And family’s family, they’ll be supportive if it means I’ll be able to provide for you girls better.”

“How are you being so casual about this right now?” Clementine yells, finally losing her cool. Her dad was always the one to preach togetherness and the importance of family and togetherness yet he was the one trying to leave everything that they knew behind. What was the point in setting down roots if you were just going to rip them out and replant them?

Lyle sighs, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Because, kid, nothing’s set in stone right now. Am I looking into things over there, yes. But nothing’s confirmed, okay?” He holds his hands out in front him, trying to deescalate.

Instead of trying to argue more or to defend herself, Clementine just shakes her head and turns on her heels, stomping down the hallway and slamming her bedroom door behind her. She throws herself onto her bed and puts her headphones on, trying to find a song to help elevate her fouled mood. She runs her fingers through her hair and massages away the tension head ache that was forming. Her bedroom is silent for a few minutes as she breathes through her anxiety about her dad considering moving to the Outer Banks; usually his ‘I’ll think about it’ was a way to soften the blow of a no but this time he was actually really thinking about it.

A knock at her bedroom door brings Clementine back to attention. “What?” She exclaims sharply, assuming it was her dad at the door trying to continue their conversation and to clear the air.

“You okay?” Kimber asks sheepishly, poking her head through the door, her eyes trained on the plush carpet.

Clementine lets out a defeated-sounding laugh. “I’m fine…are you?” Clementine wanted to allude to the pieces of Kimber’s phone conversation that she overheard.

Kimber’s eyes light up in a panic. “You heard that earlier?”

Clementine rapidly shakes her head no, not wanting to give her sister the wrong idea. “Didn’t hear anything specific, just that it sounded kind of intense.” She tries to downplay how much she heard, how she was able to figure out that it was Gat that Kimber was talking on the phone to.

“Oh” Kimber smiles sadly. “I’ll be okay, I always am.”

#fic: don’t you forget about me #obx fic #outer banks fic #outer banks oc #obx oc #obx oc: clementine adams #obx oc: kimber adams #obx oc: lyle adams

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angelguk · 4 years

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an eternal sunshine of the spotless mind au. jeongguk fresh from memory removal finds himself in a place that feels very unfamilar — until he bumps into you. or the one where they loved so hard it ruined them both. listen to mr loverman (arthur black cover). roughly 1.2k words. angst and one mention of mental health. alternatively titled ‘what might be’

“Excuse me? Excuse me, sir?”

Her voice is soft in the cool night air, drifting delicately so his ears. But it cuts deep, slicing through the murky reverie that was drowning him, gaze ripping from the distant amber streetlight to lock on the server’s face. Her head is cocked sideways, perplexing colouring her features as she stares back at him before releasing a low sigh, the menu in her hand swinging down forlornly.

“Sir,” she starts. “You haven’t ordered anything and we’re about to close. Unless you want to place an order now, I suggest you leave.”

He can’t help but blanch, the statement a whip against his heart. He doesn’t want to leave — at least not right now. He’s still looking — for what he’s not sure of but he knows it’s here. It has to be here. There’s no other reason for him to be sitting on the second-floor veranda of some absurdly expensive restaurant all alone, nursing a single tall glass of water. It’s not his scene. Jeongguk wasn’t doing too bad for himself but he’d rather spend his pay check on expanding his gaming system and ordering take-out rather than soiling the pristine chair cushions of this establishment with his baggy jeans. They’d almost not let him in, at the sight of his worn appearance, but Jeongguk’s grandmother always said he had a silver tongue and charming smile that got him past doors that should never have been opened. But why he wanted to secure a table in here so bad, stifling underneath incandescent chandelier lights and immaculately pressed tablecloths, stumped him. It made no sense, but Jeongguk did not want to leave. He couldn’t. He might not be able to breathe again if he did.

“Sir.” There’s a tinge of irritation lingering behind the word. He stares at her again, doe eyes flickering back and forth as if hoping for a slither of recognition to spark in his brain. “Sir? I am asking you to leave. Kindly comply or I will have you removed from this table.”

The glare she gives him is sharp, and Jeongguk can’t help but drop his head in defeat, tousled brown curls swimming before his vision. There’s a tightness gripping his chest, rib cage drawing in, the curved ends of his bones digging deeply into his lungs. It’s with desolation that he releases the silver knife he was toying with, the clack against the table resounding with the crack that forms in his heart as he rises from his chair. He spares one glance to the vast windows reflecting onto the city streets below before he drags himself out and into the staircase he’d come through roughly two hours ago. It should be noted that he’s never been here — not once in his life. He doesn’t know this side of Seoul that well and the claret walls are still new to him as he descends, knees buckling with each step. It worsens when he tumbles into the street, dazed as he spins around, an oddity to those who spare him a look. He just needs to find it, whatever he knows is here. That is what propels him further into the night, shoes scraping against the pavement, cricks steadily forming in his neck from twisting and turning. He should go home. He knows it. But the hollow that sits in his chest demands to be filled, a desperate wail that bounces in his head, tears dripping from his worn eyes as he looks and looks.

The name of the store is what halts him. A comforting phrase that encourages his unsure feet onward in this unfamiliar labyrinth. Past the threshold he goes, the smell of paper and ink floating around him warmly. It’s a welcome distraction, the small thrill that zips from his fingertips the second they graze against the spine of the books lining the towering shelves calming the thunderous voice that plagued his thoughts. He doesn’t move with purpose, legs lazy as he strolls past rows and rows of books, the glossy covers of cookbooks catching his eyes before his attention is ripped to shimmering fantasy novels. For the first time since this morning, he breathes. It feels easy in here, a low thrum forming in his head when he plucks up a copy from the shelves out of curiosity. A self-help book; for a moment he considers purchasing it. It’s focused on the topic of mental stability and happiness, both of which seem like a major problem in Jeongguk’s life at the moment. And then your voice cracks through, like thin ice breaking under the weight of a reckless skater. Or a memory coaxed from the mind with something as small as a scent.

“You’re not gonna want that,” you say, the firmness in your tone startling him. He can’t help but cock his head, silver earrings glinting beneath the harsh fluorescent lights of the shop. Your face is set in a challenge, defiant and bold. Jeongguk feels something inside of him rip the moment your eyes meet. You stare at him, eyes unwavering, like a tiger waiting to strike.

And like a fool, Jeongguk takes the bait.

“Why wouldn’t I? You don’t know me.” The second that sentence leaves his lips he knows it’s wrong. He does know you, but from where he can’t recall. And yet something about you triggers an irritating itch in his brain; the way you stand is oddly familiar, weight balanced on one hip as your arms cross in front of your chest. There’s the scent of your perfume, drifting through the air, sweet and soft, a harsh contrast to the look you’re giving him.

“Because they’re shit. Self-help books are for people who pretend they're capable of fixing everyone around them, including themselves. No one is capable of fixing themselves just by reading ‘10 Ways to Make Your Life More Meaningful to You’. Humans are too stubborn to change their entire behaviour just because Kim Yoongi with a Degree in I Lie to People for Money says you should. You look smart enough to understand that, I presume.”

There you go again, crossing lines, pressing buttons. Jeongguk sneaks a look at the tag on your apron, eyes finding a name that zips down his spine with a painful jolt. He keeps blinking at it — at you. A pretty face with a dagger for a tongue. Something about this feels dangerous — wrong. Yet, he takes a precarious step forward, dumping the novel on the shelf. For a second, he can’t speak, and then the words peel from his throat, leading him down a path that feels known.

“Well,” he says. “What should I be reading then?”

You pause, hawk gaze examining him from head to toe; there’s a flicker in your guarded eyes. His heart aches to ask. Feels like you should. But then your perfect lips break out into a small smile, features bright and warm. It clicks into place then, the hollow filling in so quickly he nearly topples to the floor from shock. Whatever he wanted to ask can wait. Everything can wait. You’re still smiling at him and Jeongguk is lost mapping a galaxy in the mischievous twinkle in your eyes.

“Follow me,” you whisper, spinning on the heel of your boots. And he does without question. Like he always will. He doesn’t realise it yet, but he’s done this before, followed you until he ruined himself, burnt down every bridge he’d worked to build. And here he is again, trailing after you through the winding rows of shelves, his heart slowly but surely returning to the place it belongs. It’s perched in your hands, waiting to be crushed again, allure blinding his reason, and his brain lost in the fog of what might be love.

#jungkook x reader #jungkook angst #bts x reader #jungkook drabble #jungkook imagine #roughly based off the movie its really not exact

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teaplease1717 · 3 years

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Cheer for Me

Title: Cheer for Me

Chapter: 2 of 3

Relationship: Todoroki Shouto x Yaoyorozu Momo

Rating: E

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29947014/chapters/74220609

Kudos to @flourchildwrites for betaing.

XXXXX

It was like Kaminari had shocked him. Electricity sizzled down Shouto’s spine and every thought in his head scattered as her lips moved slowly against his.

Her mouth was soft, and she kissed him as Shouto had always imagined. With a groan, his eyes closed as she ran her tongue along his lips and slid it inside his mouth with a soft noise. His body quivered.

This wasn’t real.

She pressed closer. Her hands curled into his jacket.

This was a hallucination. And yet, even knowing it was fake, Shouto didn’t want the illusion to stop.

His fingers twitched, and Shouto found that his hands were already around her bare waist, pressing against the small of her back, arching her closer. His tongue slid against hers as his hand lowered to the thin waistband of her skirt before skimming down the fabric to firmly cup her ass.

It was soft with just the right amount of firmness, and Shouto couldn’t help imagining what it would feel like slapping against him as he took Yaoyorozu from behind.

Tightening his grip, Shouto rolled his hips into hers experimentally. Yaoyorozu pulled back slightly with a breathy gasp, and Shouto dragged her closer.

Everything felt fuzzy. He could barely think. Yaoyorozu’s body was warm and felt so right molded against his. And Shouto’s cock was already hard and aching for her.

Kissing the side of his mouth, Yaoyorozu followed his jaw line planting slow open-mouth kisses up towards his ear. Shouto shuddered as a flood of heat shot through him, and she nuzzled the thin patch of skin underneath his ear before nipping him.

Shouto groaned low in his throat, and he realized he didn't want to stop this. He wanted to touch and be touched by Yaoyorozu, more than anything.

‘They call themselves “Heroes” and keep fooling everyone! The only ones these “heroes” protect are themselves! With all that ugliness inside, they use you people to give them protection! Approval! Admiration!’

Dabi's words cut through his foggy lust-induced mind.

Shouto froze. That’s right; this warmth that Yaoyorozu was offering wasn’t something he was allowed to wish for, even in a dream. If he wanted to be a true hero, he needed to be better than this.

The thought sobered him, and he caught her hands as they slid up to circle his neck.

“We can't.”

Slowly, Yaoyorozu pulled back to stare up at him. Her eyes were dark, and her chest was heaving as she looked at him in confusion. “Todoroki-san?”

Shouto gritted his teeth, and he pulled her hands away. “We need to stop. A hero wouldn't do something like this.”

Yaoyorozu blinked. “What-What do you mean?” she asked shakily. Her expression wavered.

Shouto inhaled deeply through his nose to steady himself. “I can't become a hero if I give in to these desires.”

At those words, something flashed across Yaoyorozu’s face, and her dark onyx eyes widened. “But you are a hero already!”

His stomach twisted. He wanted to take her face into his hands and kiss her senseless but stopped himself.

“No,” Shouto said firmly, looking away. He hesitated a moment. A tight lump had wedged itself in the back of his throat, and he swallowed thickly. “I’m not. Not a true hero at least. There is still too much of my old man’s teaching in me. I'm still too selfish and let my emotions control me.” He swallowed and forced the next words out. “This illusion is evidence of that. A true hero wouldn't have a dream of their friend this way.”

Yaoyorozu was silent a moment.

“But there are plenty of heroes with lovers or families. Are you saying they aren't respectable heroes?” Yaoyorozu asked finally, pulling her hands out of his and stepping back.

Reluctantly, he let her go as he looked back at her.

“No, but I need to be better than them.” Shouto pressed his lips into a hard line. “Since I was made for the sole purpose of becoming a hero, I have to work harder and be better than anyone. I need to be perfect.”

Yaoyorozu opened her mouth and then closed it. Her lips twitched, but she swallowed whatever she was going to say and dropped her gaze to stare down at her shoes.

“To defeat your brother?” she asked softly after a few seconds.

Shouto nodded. “They call themselves ‘heroes’ and keep fooling everyone. With all that ugliness inside, the only ones these ‘heroes’ protect are themselves.”

“Those were Dabi’s words?”

“Yeah.”

Her head jerked, and she looked sharply at him, her eyes flashing. “But Dabi isn’t right! You shouldn’t let him influence you,” she said, her voice rising as she pressed a hand to her chest.

Shouto shook his head. “Dabi may be crazy, but not everything he said is wrong. And unless I am able to achieve those goals, I don’t know if I can defeat him.”

“That’s why we’ll work together. You don’t have to do this alone.” Her eyes searched his face, her expression pleading.

Shouto curled his hands into fists. “No.” It felt like one of Mineta's purple balls had wedged itself into his mouth, making it hard to speak. “There’s a reason top heroes—All Might, Hawks, Best Jeanist—are single.”

“Just because they are single doesn’t mean you have to be,” she said. “You aren’t them. It’s your life, isn’t it?” Her body quivered before him.

His heart clenched at her words. They were so similar to what Midoriya had said to him at the last sports festival.

Shouto swallowed over a dry mouth and shook his head slowly. “True heroes need to stand alone. If we let our emotions control us we only hurt those people we want to protect. I wouldn't be able to stand seeing you suffer because of me.”

“But,” Yaoyorozu wavered, her eyes growing glassy, “isn't that my decision to make?”

Shouto’s breath caught in his throat.

Yaoyorozu continued, taking a step closer. “I don’t understand. You say heroes need to stand alone and that if I get close to you, I’ll suffer. But what about my feelings? Is having people who care for you truly that wrong?”

“That’s not it.” His voice was thick. “I want to be with you. More than anything I want to be with you and the rest of the class. But this is my cross to bear. Otherwise, I’ll just bring misfortune onto everyone more than I’ve already have.” His fists tightened until his knuckles were white.

He didn’t know where these thoughts had arisen from but, somewhere in the depths of his subconscious, Shouto realized he believed them. Someone like him—someone created to be the perfect “hero”—didn’t get love. Didn’t deserve it. No matter how much he wanted it.

This was for the best. Forcing himself to realize this now, in this hallucination, was just saving himself from future unnecessary hopes and desires.

“Is that truly what you think?” Her voice snapped Shouto out of his thoughts, and he looked up. She was staring at him pointedly. “That you can’t have love because you feel responsible for your brother?”

It felt like someone had hollowed out a hole in his heart as he stared down at her. Shouto inhaled unsteadily. “Love. Relationships. Those kinds of things are for other people. Heroes need to be better-”

“You’re wrong, Todoroki-san.” Her voice cut through the air in that steely, unwavering quality of conviction.

“Wrong?” he echoed, eyes widening at the look of anger and heartbreak written across her face, as if it were her that wasn’t allowed to be loved and not him.

Yaoyorozu straightened her shoulders. “Dabi’s manipulating you into believing that the only way you’ll defeat him is if you’re alone. But, if you let him do that, all you’ll end up doing is hurting yourself.”

Her gaze was intent as she met his eyes, and she pressed her hand to her chest. “I’ve been watching you for a long time, Todoroki-san. More than anyone, I’ve been watching your progression, and I know what kind of person you are. You’re kind, and despite your stoic demeanor, there is a lot to you. But, because I’ve been watching, I can also tell that those emotions you’re trying to suppress in order to meet this unrealistic vision of a ‘hero’ are slowly becoming too much for you to handle. Eventually—eventually they’ll overflow, and at that point it may be too late. All you’ll be left with is regret.”

“Yaoyorozu…” Shouto whispered.

Biting her lip, she swallowed and dragged in a deep breath, composing herself. Then, in a softer voice, continued. “Someday, you’ll see. But, until then, will you let me take some of your burden?” Yaoyorozu searched his face. The heartbreak of a moment ago was gone, and her expression was collected. But her eyes–

The way she looked at him—a mixture of longing and hope—was enough to take Shouto’s breath away. And the thought of moving away never even crossed Shouto’s mind as she stepped closer.

“If it’s in here, in this dream world, it should be okay, right?”

Slowly, as if to give him the chance to pull away, she reached up to the metal zipper of his gym jacket and pulled it down. Shouto’s body trembled as she slid her hands underneath. The heat of her palms transferred through his undershirt as she pushed his jacket aside and rested her hands over his chest.

“Please.”

Yaoyorozu leaned in and kissed the space over his heart. Shouto inhaled sharply.

“Please.” She slid her hands up his chest and around his neck. Shouto’s heart pounded as fast as if he had fought a nomu. She pushed up on her toes.

"Even if it's a dream..." Her lips hovered over his mouth. “...let me be your motivation. Let me love you.”

Yaoyorozu closed her eyes and touched her lips to his for the second time that day.

#todomomo #todoroki x yaoyorozu #My writing #Cheer for Me #My Story #todomomo fanfiction

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feralphoenix · 4 years

Text

BUT THAT DOESN’T MEAN YOU’RE NOT PREPARED TO TRY

if you’re following my blog or if you read my fanfiction, you may have seen me talking in tags or comments about how the radiance hollowknight was a pacifist. “feral, wtf?” you may have thought. “she’s the freaking final boss and tries really, really hard to kill you and all her attacks do 2 entire masks damage. where on earth do you get pacifism out of that???”

to you specifically i say, that’s an understandable reaction! the short version of how i got here was that i started thinking about the story implications of radi not inflicting contact damage and took a deep dive into game mechanics and lore. when i came up for air i had made myself Very Sad.

if this intrigues you and you would like to know more, come along with me, i am happy to point out the things i noticed and share the Big Sad around.

this essay is also available on dreamwidth for accessibility purposes, since my layout’s text may be too small for folks on pc with high-res screens.

CONTENT WARNING: This essay discusses pseudo-zombie plagues and associated body horror, colonialism and genocide, horrible things that happened in real life Australian history... you know, the usual topics that come up when I’m talking about Hollow Knight.

ADDITIONAL NOTICE: TPK fans of the “TPK meant well/was working for the greater good”/“TPK and Radi are equally bad”/“TPK is bad but Radi is worse” variety please give this one a pass, it ain’t for you.

finally if youre from a christian cultural upbringing (whether currently practicing, agnostic/secular, or atheist now), understand that some of what i’m discussing here may challenge you. if thinking thru the implications of this particular part of hollow knight worldbuilding/lore is distressing for you, PLEASE only approach this essay when youre in a safe mindset & open to listening, and ask the help of a therapist or anti-racism teacher/mentor to help you process your thoughts & feelings. just like keep in mind that youre listening to an ethnoreligiously marginalized person and please be respectful here or wherever else youre discussing this dang essay

BUT THAT DOESN’T MEAN YOU’RE NOT PREPARED TO TRY: The Radiance Doesn’t Deal Contact Damage And That’s Kind Of Fucked Up And Sad

The vast majority of hostile creatures in Hollow Knight deal contact damage: This is to say, if the Wandering Knight (who I’ll probably spend most of this essay calling by their affectionate fan name Ghost) touches a hostile creature, this harms them.

There are exceptions to this rule. The most notable and most oft-memed example is the game’s literal actual true final boss, the Radiance. Not only will Ghost not be harmed by running into any part of her body, but during her stagger animation, where she drops to the boss arena floor on her front with her whole body splayed out, Ghost still isn’t harmed if she lands on top of them! What’s more, this holds true for her full-power form Absolute Radiance, the secret final boss of the Godmaster quest/endings.

A lot of people find this amusing, because it’s a little absurd that a game’s final boss is an exception to such a consistent element of gameplay! Hence all the “haha moth too soft and fluffy for contact damage” jokes. It is objective facts that Radi is very soft and very fluffy, so it’s very easy to understand why people don’t overthink this too much.

Thinking about things I like in gross detail is unfortunately my hobby. When it comes to Hollow Knight this usually leads to me making myself really sad. I’d like to share the fruits of my theorizing with the class, so other people can be sad with me.

Now, from a game design perspective I can think of a lot of reasons why Team Cherry chose for Radiance not to inflict contact damage. Her hitbox only covers the central part of her body. Her limbs are large, so because of the way she floats, if she did contact damage she would be protected from nail strikes from below and to either side. This would give a player who prefers nail combat a punishingly small margin through which they could inflict damage without also taking a hit, potentially forcing them to adapt to a new and unfamiliar play style at the very end of the game. That’s not fun for anybody and tends to make players feel very frustrated.

In addition to this, Radiance’s attacks are all bullet hell-style spells. All of them except the floor hazards inflict two masks of damage, meaning if you want to stay alive and identify points where it’s possible to heal, you need to learn the spell patterns and dodge a lot. Radi is a large boss. If running into her hurt you this would make the bullet hell elements of her fight extra punishing.

So, I think the purely game mechanics reason for Moth Too Soft And Fluffy is in interest of keeping her boss fight fair, and helping players feel like they have a chance of actually defeating her.

Part of why we all love Hollow Knight, though, is that there’s not much in the game that only exists for purely mechanical reasons. There’s always some form of story or lore integration.

So what on earth is the story reason behind why Radiance doesn’t deal contact damage?

OTHER ENEMIES THAT DON’T DEAL CONTACT DAMAGE

Radi isn’t the only enemy (here defined as fightable/killable creature) in Hollow Knight who doesn't inflict contact damage, so let’s take a look at her fellow exceptions to the rule to see what we can learn.

Broadly speaking there are two categories of Enemies That Don’t Deal Contact Damage. The first is enemies or bosses who used to be hostile, but have become friendly to the player. For instance, when characters like Ogrim and Hornet are not being fought in boss battles, touching them won’t cause damage to Ghost. These story characters who Ghost has more or less reconciled with can’t be damaged by the player out of combat either.

In terms of generic enemies who used to be hostile but have become friendly to the player, we have the mantises of the Fungal Wastes and the Siblings/Ghost’s Shade. We learn from the game’s lore that the mantises Did Not Like The Pale King and were hostile to Hallownest, but that they established a ceasefire conditional on their keeping the people of Deepnest (who were also hostile to Hallownest) from leaving through the area’s main entrance/exit in the Fungal Wastes - essentially the two native kingdoms were pitted against one another by the Pale King.

Now, just because there was a ceasefire, that doesn’t mean the mantises take kindly to Hallownest bugs brazenly trespassing into their dang house; they will get in your face and try to kill you unless you have permission to be there. But once you’ve defeated the Mantis Lords in combat and proven yourself worthy of the mantises’ respect, they’ll let you pass through their turf unmolested. They are no longer actively hostile and don't deal contact damage.

(You're still able to attack them, though - maybe because you’d be locked out of receiving the Hunter’s Mark if you complete the Respect quest/achievement before you’ve successfully killed enough mantises? - and if you attack them, or if your pet charm familiars attack them, any mantises you aggroed will fight back and deal contact damage again.)

The Siblings, as well as Ghost’s Shade, are initially indiscriminately hostile. Our window into Shade psychology is limited, but we know that the Shade died violently and the Siblings probably did too; they may be lashing out. They’re also Void creatures, and Ghost looks a lot like the Pale King, whom we can guess from context clues pissed the Void off significantly by using it as his personal play-doh to make tools and toys with and also using its house as his personal garbage dump for baby corpses.

However, once Ghost recalls their past and breaks the mask of the Kingsoul charm to reveal the Void Heart at its core, the Void recognizes them as a part of it, and Ghost becomes able to direct/lead the Void to some extent. As an extension of this, the Siblings and Ghost’s shade become docile and can now be killed by any weapon in one hit instead of just the Dream Nail (which is made of Radiance’s Light and is the Void’s natural weakness). They don’t deal contact damage anymore either.

That’s it for “enemies that inflict contact damage at one point, but stop inflicting it after becoming friendly or neutral to Ghost”.

The generic enemies which don't inflict contact damage include shrumelings, maggots, maskflies, and lightseeds/lifeseeds. These enemies are incapable of inflicting any damage on Ghost whatsoever, because by themselves they are completely helpless entities with no natural defenses.

Shrumelings are infant members of the mushroom clan who are usually protected by adult fungi like shrumal warriors and ogres. Lightseeds and lifeseeds are harmless single-celled organisms. Maskflies are similarly harmless. Maggots, we glean from the Hunter’s Journal and dialogue from False Knight/Failed Champion, are the bottom rung of Hallownest’s society because they are weak and helpless, and are forced into menial and slave labor by other Hallownest bugs because they cannot defend themselves. The maggots’ plight is the whole reason why False Knight/Failed Champion stole Hegemol's armor in the first place, as he wanted to protect his people.

All of these enemies flee when Ghost approaches them. (Some maskfly groups’ flight triggers are set to specific areas on a map and won’t flee if you can avoid stepping on/passing through those areas, but this is clearly due to a programming oversight because their whole Thing is running away.)

But, there’s something interesting to be observed in the case of lightseeds and maggots: They can fight back against and harm Ghost if they use tools. The little flock of lightseeds you chase around the Ancient Basin eventually get sick of Ghost’s shit and take over Broken Vessel/Lost Kin’s corpse, which they puppet around to try to murder you. By doing so they gain access to Broken Vessel/Lost Kin’s considerable combat prowess and become very dangerous, contact damage included in the bargain. (The lightseeds’ doing this seems to evoke the vessel’s spirit, since they reach for Ghost when defeated. That’s not a gesture the lightseeds have any reason to make. The Lost Kin fight, by which the spirit seems to gain some form of closure, becomes available here too.)

False Knight/Failed Champion’s fights work on the same general principle. Now that he has a weapon he can attack Ghost, and his armor deals contact damage. The maggot inside the armor does not inflict contact damage; essentially both his boss fights consist of your whacking the armor until he’s stunned and pops out of the armor for a moment so you can hit his vulnerable real body, which is the only part of him that yields Soul when you smack him. In fact, his boss fights will last forever if you let him recover from being stunned on his own.

Between these two groups, Radiance very obviously doesn’t fit in the first, as she’s the final boss and is very vigorously trying to kill Ghost with various magic spells. You can tell from her Dream Nail dialogue that she’s furious about what the Pale King did to her and her people, and is afraid for her life. She is willing to use everything at her disposal to try to destroy Ghost so she can survive, go free, and get revenge for the Pale King’s crimes. If she could do contact damage to Ghost she would.

So, the only logical conclusion to make is that Radi falls into the second group of enemies that don’t inflict contact damage. She is physically incapable of causing any harm to anyone with only her body. Her magic is deadly as all get out and the 2 masks damage explosion noise probably haunts the nightmares of anyone who’s struggled fighting her, but without it she is helpless.

WHY CAN’T RADIANCE DO CONTACT DAMAGE?

It might be pretty hard to reconcile the fact that a character with Audre Lorde energy as potent as Radi Hollowknight’s is has a whopping 0 ATK. The biggest clues we get in terms of story context for her inability to inflict physical harm of any kind can be found within the culture of the moth tribe, who were her people.

Thistlewind, the backer-designed moth ghost who can be found in the Resting Grounds, tells you that the majority of moths were pacifists, and that individuals like them and like Markoth who learned to wield a nail were in the minority. Thistlewind appears to have learned to fight as a means of self-defense while they explored the crater area, and describes Markoth as having done so in order to “[brave] the edges of this world, hoping to uncover a truth long forgotten”. It sounds to me like Markoth was trying to recover parts of moth culture that were lost when their tribe was assimilated into Hallownest, or maybe even searching for Radiance or trying to learn what happened to her. (Judging that his corpse is hidden behind one of the Pale King’s shade gates it seems this didn’t go well. Thanks TPK.)

As far as fighting moths go there’s Marmu too, but she seems to be a special case, possibly raised in Hallownest's culture instead of with her tribe. We don’t actually get any sort of canon explanation for how a baby moth wound up as a child soldier who died defending the Queen’s Gardens, but given the overall tone of Hollow Knight as a game and all the colonization/Australian history parallel subtext, some horrifying possibilities come to mind.

So, if Thistlewind, Markoth, and Marmu are Outliers Lepidoptera and should not be counted, how did the majority of moths spend their time? According to Seer, who knows more about the tribe’s history than most (and to Quirrel, who points you to her if you defeat Uumuu before picking up the Dream Nail), the moths’ main prerogative was cultivating and developing dream magic. From the way the Seer describes dreams as a living history as you collect Essence, dream magic seems to be a parallel to the Dreaming (or Dreamtime), a spiritual concept in Indigenous Australian religion related to both history and myth.

To translate this into simple terms, the moths were by and large pacifists whose culture celebrated art, history, and spirituality.

Team Cherry tends to adapt at least some aspects of real-life bug behavior and biology into their sad cartoon bugs, so moths-as-pacifists tracks: Real moths do not really have any way to fight. They defend themselves from predators via their mobility and their markings, which tend towards either camouflage that helps them hide or bright markings intended to scare predators off by indicating they’re poisonous (therefore not good to eat) or look like the face of something much bigger and more dangerous than they are.

There's not that much we can glean about the moths in pre-Hallownest society aside from Seer’s dialogue, because Hallownest destroyed their civilization so thoroughly: Except in the Dream Realm (which is filled with Essence spirographs and the wisteria charms that decorate Seer’s room), their architecture can only be found anymore in hidden parts of the Resting Grounds and at the very top of the Crystal Peak where Radi’s statue and a fuckton of lore tablets Ghost doesn’t know how to read are located.

But, we know that the crater pre-Hallownest was home to a ton of diverse bug nations - the mosskin, the mushroom tribe, the mantises, Deepnest, the Hive, the flukes - and every SINGLE one of those had some kind of warrior tradition, as well as their own unique cultures. In the midst of all that it was only the moths who were pacifists, so from there we can tentatively assume that they were on good enough terms with their neighbors for there not to be any fighting. The mosskin in particular also had and still have a Higher Being on their side, though in the modern day Unn seems to be rather conflict avoidant to say the least.

And we know from Hallownest’s past dealings with the mantises and Deepnest that even having Two (2) Higher Beings isn’t enough to keep rival civilizations off your nuts if they hate you, so it’s improbable that Radiance just did all the moths’ fighting for them.

The only hint that the moths ever had beef with anyone at all is one of Radiance’s Dream Nail lines, “ancient enemy” - this is popularly theorized to refer to the Void and might be corroborated by the Void’s willingness to follow Ghost into Radi’s boss fights and fight alongside them. As the Void seems to be some sort of Higher Being/god of darkness and nothingness, and the Dream Nail’s only offensive ability is to kill Void creatures, the Void and creatures of Light appear to be in a position of mutual vulnerability. Some of the Pale King’s writings in his workshop, which identify the Void as a power in direct opposition to his, support this too.

It’s unclear whether the Void civilization and Radiance ever directly came to blows or whether they were just giving each other the stink eye over being natural enemies - personally I think the latter is more likely because the two civilizations existed on opposite sides of the crater*, and again, the moths were pacifists; plus when Ghost brings the Void along to Radi’s boss fight she is quickly and gruesomely overwhelmed by it.

What I am saying here is that if pacifism was such an integral aspect of moth culture, and Radiance epitomized her people’s culture, and she is 100% incapable of inflicting physical harm, she was probably a pacifist too.

DEEP DOWN YOU KNOW YOU WEREN'T BUILT FOR FIGHTING

Hallownest flourished for a long, long time between the Pale King and White Lady first establishing it and the initial outbreak of the Infection.

There’s no conclusive information in-game as to why this is. We can only guess: Maybe Radiance was so badly hurt or weakened by the moths’ assimilation that it simply took her That Long to become capable of the mass dream broadcast to Literally Everyone In Hallownest that would eventually become the Infection when Hallownest’s people tried to suppress it. Or, maybe it just took a long time for her to come up with a way to fight back. It’s possible that it took her a while to find the resolve to actually fight back, too, with her principles of pacifism in conflict with the necessity of defending herself and taking her people back. Maybe there was a change in the moths’ situation in Hallownest somewhere down the line that compelled her to step in - all the moths are super extremely dead at the time Hollow Knight starts, after all. Even Seer is eventually revealed to be a revenant like Ze’mer the Grey Mourner, only lingering in the world to pass on the Dream Nail and tell Radiance’s story. Maybe it was a combination of all those factors. Barring Team Cherry dropping in to explain this bit of Sekret Deep Lore, we are never going to know.

All we DO know for sure is that when we mosey into Hollow’s brain (and/or Ultimate Showdown of Ultimate Destiny our way to the top of Hallownest’s Pantheon) and challenge the literal actual sun to a fight, Radi takes the challenge with extreme prejudice and comes in swinging.

Something interesting I noticed while comparing the Radiance boss fights with the Pure Vessel fight is that some of their attacks are vaguely similar. Where warrior-mage characters like Xero and Markoth have physical weapons that they summon and manipulate with magic, Radiance and Pure Vessel both create nails and daggers out of Essence and Soul respectively. Both characters’ magical weapon attacks are similar in nature too: Some are used to create hazards that must be dodged or avoided, and some are fired directly at Ghost in radial patterns.

This begs a very sad chicken-and-egg question. Did Radi and Hollow develop these battle techniques independently of each other, has Hollow in their prime form somehow absorbed similar techniques to Radi through osmosis since they’re currently chained together by the brain... or is Radi mimicking and innovating on these attacks she knows Hollow can do?

All her other attacks seem very obvious for a light-themed character, after all: Beam attacks and blobs of light. A flash of bright light is also how she shakes off the Void the first time it tries to grab her, too, making for a strong argument that that’s the original natural defense she possessed, and that’s what she based most of her attack magic off of.

Making sword’s and knive’s from Essence when most of her people didn’t even handle these sorts of tools even at the height of her power and influence, though... that seems less like something that would come naturally to her. i don’t really know i don’t have a definitive answer or theory for this one it just Seems Possible and it’s fucking me up guys

Even the Infection - which began life as Radiance’s attempt to communicate, let’s remember, before it progressed to “The End Of Eva Disease Will Continue Until Someone Actually Listens To Me” and then finally Radi screaming “FUCK U LET ME OUT, GET THAT NEW SUNNY D BOTTLE THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME, HALLOWNEST EAT SHIT” during canon - does not appear to be fatal to living bugs until the tumorous growths grow so large they impede bodily functions, like real cancer. We can observe this phenomenon via a number of NPCs and enemies that are rediscovered as tumorous corpses after the whole Crossroads area becomes infected.

At least to me, all of this points to Radiance being a character to whom violence and causing harm doesn't come naturally, and who has resorted to these methods in desperation.

It actually reminds me a lot of False Knight/Failed Champion. It’s a very common theory among fans that when he stole Hegemol’s armor he killed Hegemol - this is a reasonable thing to believe, since Hegemol is the only one of the Five Great Knights of Hallownest who never appears at all in-game, not even as a corpse like Dryya and Isma. Like Radi, False Knight/Failed Champion is a character who rose up and turned to violence in order to protect his people, despite the maggots not being a belligerent species.

False Knight is one of the game’s first major bosses, sometimes the first boss that players encounter at all. And so Hollow Knight’s story bookends with two separate victims of a predatory system, one who lived within and was cannibalized by it, one outside of it who was deliberately targeted by the Pale King. Neither of them started out as a fighter, but both of them still adopted violence as a tool to protect themselves and their people. Radiance is as doomed as False Knight by the Pale King’s genocide, but just like False Knight, she has no intention of going quietly, and will rage against the dying of the light as only the literal actual sun can.

Cue Deedee Magno Hall voice clip. You all know the one.

*A footnote: There’s no conclusive evidence to tell us whether the Void civilization was contemporaneous with the other pre-Hallownest indigenous bug nations or whether it predated them. Mask Maker has a line suggesting that the Void civilization tried to expand throughout the crater in its heyday and that maybe this was linked to its collapse, but in general the Void lore is just too darn thin to draw firm conclusions - it’s like trying to speculate on the ancient stone age cultures of the Americas that came before pre-settler Indigenous countries when the only sources you can easily access are elementary school level US history textbooks. (To non-Americans: We mostly teach kids propaganda until they hit college-level courses and it sucks so much ass.) This is very realistic worldbuilding, but also please Team Cherry I want to know more about these ancient bugs who apparently got lost in the sauce

#hollow knight #hollow knight spoilers #hollow knight meta #the radiance #hk radiance #essay #long post under cut -#bad and naughty catholics go in the catholic wiggler

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burninglilys · 3 years

Text

run till the end of time

my hand kinda slipped and then i couldn’t stop writing. i have taken some creative liberty in making it so that their exams are pushed back because this entire ordeal has been a whole lot traumatic for the kids.

Here's the irrevocable truth:

They've won. They've actually, veritably won.

Their sweat and blood, and sometimes nothing but phantom desperation and determination has shaped itself into a completely intangible thing called 'victory' and has permeated into every nook and crevice of the world around them.

They've won.

Here's the truth that is extremely hard for Pang to fathom that he has been existing in for over a few days now:

They've won.

There's a voice inside his head telling him that all of this is a mere illusion; his actual reality is still muddled in layers of inequality instead of the palpable reality that he is currently living in.

There is no need for him to look over his shoulder every step of the way, no need for him to drown in nights where sleep always seems a blink away, no need for him to think twice before he lets joy consume him whole.

There is no need for any of that.

They've won and Pang feels as though this is a simulation where nothing is as it is, as he has known, and that the Director is up there, superimposing his present, past, and his future, laughing at what a fool he was to have ever believed that he's won.

But they have, is the thing.

He's reminded that they have by the way Wave smiles, looking more relaxed than Pang has ever seen him, by how Ohm's eyes twinkle, the way they always did before all this, by how all his friends -- his family, really -- find their way to each other, their way around each other, a bond created by the constraints of dictatorial power -- something so strong that nothing could've been able to get through it.

None of it explains why Pang feels this hollow chamber inside his chest where that fire of changing something used to be.

Someone knocks against his shoulders, snapping him out of the syrupy reverie he finds himself in on most days.

"You can't believe it, huh?"

Pang blinks slowly, taking a deep breath before putting on a smile and turning towards P'Chanon.

"How did you know?" Pang asks, ignoring the loud cry that Ohm gives out as Namtarn smears the icing on his face.

P'Chanon shrugs. "I can't believe it either," he says.

Pang presses his lips together, swallowing.

"Everything we fought for is over," Pang replies.

"It is," P'Chanon says, leaning against the table.

"I didn't have a purpose before this," Pang says. "And then there was this. And now there's nothing."

Pang never did think of a future for himself, he realises. It's as though he lived his life with a neon sticker on his forehead, relaying to everyone who he was and moulded exactly to fit that. First, there was the stupid kid, then there was the stupid kid who was smart enough to get into Rithda, then there was the stupid Class 8 kid, then there was the lucky Class 8 Gifted kid, then it was Class 8 Kid but as a leader, after which he became the kid who was completely idealistic, and then the kid who finally succumbed to the Director.

The reality of this has ripped the neon sign off his forehead, leaving him floundering for a person to be.

"Oh, Pang," P'Chanon says, his voice incredibly gentle. "Pang, I know exactly what you mean. You feel lost again."

"I am nothing without this," Pang says, even though a voice in his head that sounds a little too much like Wave disagrees. "I don't-- what am I supposed to do?" His voice comes out broken around the edges, firmed only with the number of times he's asked his reflection.

"Pang," P'Chanon says, bumping their shoulders together again. "You find a new purpose."

"You say as though it's easy."

"It's not," P'Chanon says, his voice firm. "It really is not. I have been in your position before, Pang. I am in your position now."

Pang turns to look at P'Chanon, who looks straight ahead, his jaw clenched.

"I didn't know who I was," he says in a whisper. "For the longest time, I was a shadow of who I wanted to be. And then I remembered. So there was my purpose again-- defeating Supot. And then I was mind-controlled, of course. So there was my purpose again-- defeating Pom. And then there was nothing. Just a void in front of me."

"How did you find your purpose again?" Pang whispers.

P'Chanon nods his head -- that is when Pang realises that P'Chanon had been looking at Khu Pom all along -- and he hears P'Chanon give out a sigh. "I had some help," he says.

"And now?" Pang asks.

P'Chanon nods at Khu Pom again, who is currently doing his absolute best to stop Jack and Joe from fighting over something.

"I'll figure it out," he says with a small smile. "As will you, Pang," P'Chanon pats his shoulder. "We have all the time in the world."

"I'm so exhausted," Pang whispers.

P'Chanon's face turns soft. "You've fought for the generations before you and the generations that will follow. Rest now, Pang. You will find a purpose again."

P'Chanon looks ahead, and this time, Khu Pom looks back, smiling at P'Chanon.

Pang feels as though he's intruding on something extremely personal. "I know that I've found mine," P'Chanon says.

"Khu Pom?" Pang asks before he can stop himself.

P'Chanon shakes his head. "Doing right by the ones I love."

"You're going to be okay, Pang," P'Chanon says, giving him a final pat on the back and walks towards where Khu Pom stands with a smile Pang has never seen on him.

Pang stands there, warmed by P'Chanon's words and uncertain, just the same.

***

It was so sudden, is the thing.

Pang had been fully prepared to work for the Director in case it all failed. He always assumed that he would die trying to rid the clutches he held everyone in.

But one moment, there was all hope lost and the next, the Director was gone for good and the world resumed turning around its axis with everyone in tow.

Everyone but Pang.

It is a mere ten minutes after Pang reaches his dorm again when he hears frantic knocking on his door and for one horrible, horrible moment, he thinks that it's the Director.

His stomach swoops at the sight of Wave on the other side of it.

"Here," Wave says, holding out a bag. "You didn't eat much."

Pang looks at Wave in awe. "You brought food for me?"

"Don't make it weird," Wave mumbles. "Just eat something, okay?"

Pang takes the bag out of his hands, warmth blooming at where their fingers touch. "Do you want to come in?"

"Obviously," Wave says and pushes past him to stride inside the room.

"You didn't have to bring me food," Pang says, pulling the chair out for Wave to sit in.

He is about to bring them both a plate when Wave tugs at his wrist. "Sit."

"Wave…"

"Sit," Wave says. "Just sit, okay? You look like you're going to fall dead at any moment."

Pang stands there, flummoxed when Wave moves around his room as though it's his own. He brings out two plates and two glasses and starts serving him the noodles, swatting at Pang's attempt to help.

"Do you think that you're invisible somehow?" Wave mutters. "I see you, Pang. Do you think that I haven't noticed the change in you?"

"What change?" Pang asks, digging into his noodles.

"You really think I'm stupid, huh?"

Pang looks up, not knowing how to reply to that. Wave sighs, pushing forward his plate to serve him more noodles. "I care for you," he grits out. "I care for you," he repeats, gentler this time. "You were so full of hope before the final video," Wave says. "And then, you came out of the room as though you'd lost a war. And today, at the party, you didn't talk to anyone."

Guilt curdles in Pang's stomach. "I'm sorry--"

"No!" Wave exclaims. "None of that, Pang. I am just letting you know that I see you and that I-- that I'm here for you, whenever you want. In any form you want me."

Pang looks up, startled. In his yellow-hued room, Wave looks a whole lot pink. "Not in that way," Wave says hurriedly. "But I'm here for you. So just-- yeah."

"I care for you too," Pang says, carefully putting his hand over Wave's. "And thank you, I appreciate you."

Wave looks at him once before looking back at his noodles again and makes no move to remove his hand from under Pang's. "Good," he says, his voice hoarse.

"Good," Pang replies, feeling lighter than he had all week.

***

Here is the truth, no matter how Pang sees it:

Pang is in love with Wave.

He does not really know when exactly the process of falling in love happened. He just knows that one day he woke up and all of a sudden, his eyes involuntarily found Wave's. The world slowed down whenever Wave was in his vicinity and for some unfathomable reason, Wave was suddenly in everything he saw and did.

Claire had once snickered when she'd found him staring at Wave and that's when he realised what the clamminess of his palms and the fastening of his heart beat meant.

He is in love with Wave.

This absolute truth is the one thing he does not find himself bending around, no matter what. The truth only glows brighter every day he spends with Wave, tinting all his surroundings with the pink that doesn't leave him even when Wave isn't around.

There is no-one who understands him the way Wave does.

Case in point: the reality unfolding itself in the way Wave lies beside him, holding one earbud out for Pang as he loads up a meticulously curated playlist.

Pang gingerly takes the earbud from him and settles easily on the cold floor underneath them.

"You can talk to me about anything, you know that right?" Wave says, somewhere in the middle of the fifth song.

I love you, Pang thinks. "I know," Pang says.

"I don't know what's bothering you and I want to be there for you," Wave says.

I love you so much, Pang thinks. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do after this," Pang says.

He feels Wave moving closer to him. "What do you mean?" Wave frowns.

"I don't know what I wanted before this and I don't know what I want now," Pang admits.

"You're Pang," Wave says, as the music shuts down. "You'll figure it out."

The lull of the darkness around him makes it safer for him to say, "I don't know who I am supposed to be now."

"You don't need to be anybody," Wave says, causing Pang to turn towards him. Always turning towards him. "You're Pang," Wave says, his voice a whisper.

Who is that person, Pang wants to ask. There's a certain kind of surety behind Wave's words. The surety whose entire weight Pang doesn't think he can carry.

"You're Pang," Wave whispers. "That's all you need to be," he says.

I'm Pang, Pang thinks, and lets the golden of the words settle beneath his skin, as though merely being Pang is enough.

He looks at the dead-set certainty veiled behind Wave's eyes and thinks that perhaps it is.

"Why did you go against the Director?" Wave asks.

"You know why," Pang replies, resigned.

"No, say it."

"Because he was harming everyone."

"And what made you want to stop him?"

"Because it wasn't fair."

"Why did you care?"

"Because I wanted to make this world a better place!" Pang exclaims, unbidden and then breathes a sigh of relief. "I want to make this world a better place," he whispers.

The corner of Wave's mouth lifts up. "There you go."

I love you, Pang thinks.

"I hope you have a seat beside you as you make your way in this world," Wave says, a bit hesitant.

"For you, Wave? Always."

Wave looks at him in surprise.

Pang reaches across to cup their hands together, again. "We're going to find our way in this world together, I think."

"Together," Wave repeats, still wide-eyed.

"Together," Pang confirms, feeling hope bloom behind his ribs.

***

It takes some getting used to, but Pang gets there.

The hallways of Rithda feel painted over, without the lingering anxiety of being surveilled by the Director all the time. There are bad days, and there are the exceptionally good ones, but the words, "We've won, we've won, we've won, we've won," keep ringing all the same.

The hollow chamber in Pang's chest blooms with every possibility he can ever think of once it sinks into him that they are, in fact, free. Pang thinks of his life beyond this point in the present and thinks of a world waiting for him, in all the ways he's ever dreamt of.

The lingering days of Rithda are moulded carefully by the smiles on his friends' face, by how Wave's hand slots so perfectly into Pang's, by the promise of never parting even after they've graduated, by Pang saying I love you out loud to Wave on their rooftop and Wave's equally dumb-struck declaration of reciprocated love, by the sturdy purpose of wanting to do good around him, and by the hope of a better future in his chest so bright that it spills through the gaps between his fingers.

The future will unfold itself the way it has to. For now, Pang looks over the room full of his favourite people and feels nothing short of home.

#the gifted graduation #pangwave #chanonpom #pangwave fics #rip i am so tired but i hope this makes sense #i just realy had to write something #im gonna miss tgg tumblr on sunday nights <3 #may.writes

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yandere-sins · 4 years

Note

I was wondering if I could request 45 and 49 for Felix H. Fraldarius? The way you write about him is amazing and charming thanks for your hard work (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)

Thank you so much! I am glad you enjoy my writing of him :D

“If you ask me nicely, I can fulfill your wish.” & “I haven’t met a human like you in a while… How interesting.”

»»——————— ♡ ————————«

The ruins were so old, you thought they’d collapse any second now, just because you were breathing. Of course, you were thankful that they were keeping up the mountain that surrounded you, leading you towards the actual ruins which long collapsed down into the mountain, completely hollow after so many centuries of existing. But even if you fretted to find your untimely demise under a fallen rock, you still had to venture on. There was a quest to finish.

“Return,” you heard an echoing voice grumble through the old tunnel, and it didn’t leave you unaffected, the hairs on the back of your neck standing. You knew you weren’t welcome, but still, even if the old ghosts didn’t want you here, you’d have to seek them out for their advice. As you were told by the oracles, there would be hundreds of lost souls waiting for you at the end of this path, but only the one you needed would appear before you.

This caused a mix of anxiety and expectancy to bubble in your stomach. You had read so much about the old legends of the Garreg Mach Ruins, the heroes and their enemies, the great battles, and no losses on their side. If anyone could help you with the war raging outside of these old ruins, then those ghosts of the ancient times.

It was prettier than you expected. Sure, overgrown and worn down by time and weather, but with the sun breaking through the hole in the top of the mountain, it had a nostalgic feel to it. Birds had made their nests on top of pillars, and the ground had moved away for water, little fish swimming beneath your feet as you crossed a toppled over wall that worked like a bridge. Had you not known where you were, this would have been a beautiful ruin to explore.

“Leave. You don’t belong here,” a disembodied voice called out to you again, and all you really could do was nod. You didn’t belong here, but you had a reason to be here. “I seek help,” you answered it, loudly, though you flinched as some debris fell down, shaken by the vibrations of your voice. Turning, you took a few steps backwards as you watched it, making sure there wasn’t a boulder coming down to squeeze you under it, when suddenly, you felt a cold resistance in your back.

For a moment only, you thought it was a pillar or anything else of the building around you, when your survival instinct kicked in, and you swirled around, hand on your sword. But before you could pull it, you had been conquered with a sharp blade pointing at your throat, making you afraid to gulp as it would have cut you with just the tiniest bit of change in your skin.

Defeated, you slowly lifted your hands, eyes focusing on your opponent rather than the deadly weapon at the most vulnerable spot on your body. You’d have lied if you said that the appearance before you wasn’t scary as he was. The coats and furs he wore showed what kind of high position he must have had when he was still alive, but they hung from his seemingly non-existent body, only reminding people of what kind of build he must have had.

And yet, you recognized the emblems on his jacket, the black hair, the colors he wore. You recognized him as one of the greatest sword-fighters to ever exist. Felix Hugo Fraldarius, a master of the blade, and even more so, a dedicated, high-ranking soldier and nobleman.

His face was ashen white, but in stark contrast to the dirty and ripped clothes on his body, it still seemed human enough to not be unpleasant to look at. It was even... a little attractive, you admitted to yourself, though his glare was as cold and unwelcoming as it could be. “You were warned,” he spoke, no echo this time, designated just for your ears. “Do you have a deathwish?”

The ghost said it so nonchalantly, it was almost like him asking you what kind of dinner you wanted, but his words were no less terrifying than his appearance himself. Showing him your hands, he didn’t even glance at them, never stopping to pin you with his eyes even if you tried your best to show you weren’t out to hurt him. When you took a step back, he matched your stance immediately, and you were sure now that he wasn’t just any kind of guard or soldier.

While you couldn’t say you were trained or maybe even exceptionally skilled, after holding up your own sword for so long, you knew a fine enemy when he approached. Back in his day, this man must have scared the living shit out of his opponents, just like he did it now with you. But you couldn’t allow yourself to falter, you had come so far!

“I inquire your help,” you mumbled, eyes switching from his stiff glare to his blade and back again. “Outside, war rages and innocent people die by the minute.”

“So you came here for help? What idiot would search for help from ghosts?”

You. You were the idiot.

“You can’t help me,” you admitted, looking along the countless reflection in the - strangely enough, perfectly clean - steel. “But you can train me to help myself.”

He didn’t expect that, as you saw his expression change to surprise for all of a second. Even if his stance stayed firm, always on target, he did allow himself to click his tongue, and finally, the blade lowered, in a way, it would have simply cut you open had it touched you. “What a nuisance. You think we’ll just accept requests of any kind of person who comes here to inquire about us? People hear about our resting place all the time and come for all kinds of shit, like their marriage problems. I have nothing to teach you.”

He turned, ready to leave you and your problems behind as if it didn’t concern him whether someone died or not. But you, for you, it was a big concern, and your chance couldn’t be wasted just because your ghost was moody and maybe an asshole. “Then why did you appear?”

He let out a disgruntled huff, shrugging with his back still turned. But at least he stopped walking, glaring back over his shoulder. “Someone had to.”

“Then please!” you pleaded, taking a step forward. Felix didn’t like it, turning halfway as if you were going to jump him, and he had to defend himself. “Please, help me too! I’m not trained and I can’t handle the sword like you do. But I can sit and watch, and train until I am too exhausted to stand!”

A moment of silence fell over you two, except for the birds chirping in the distance. Had you said too much? Too little? Where you supposed to speak up again? Beg him some more? You wanted to open your mouth, but you were quick to shut up when he turned back to you, his expression even more severe than seconds ago.

“I haven’t met a human like you in a while… How interesting.”

In a matter of a few steps, he was in front of you again, closer than ever before. Without the sword keeping some distance, you had to admit he reeked of what must be old fabric and furs, mixed with dirt or... other substances. Rot and decay of years you’d never be able to grasp on. But it was just another test you told yourself, and you’d not fail right in the beginning. “Show me what you got,” he ordered, moving aside to give away the whole platform you were on; stone that must have belonged to a great monument back in the days.

You weren’t sure what to do, but you unsheathed your sword, took the only stance you knew of, and swung, trying to show what you were made of. You didn’t even land the first air blow, when you already felt a shove at your elbow. The touch was cold and unforgiving harsh, making you stumble from the suddenness. “Higher,” he instructed, and while you felt the need to complain about your treatment, you swallowed your sour mood in favor of following the ghost’s advice.

Immediately, you felt relief in your shoulder. It was so different, the result was an instant gratification. But while you wanted to share your joyful conclusion, you were immediately bombarded with more shoves, correcting almost everything. “Goddess, you suck.”

“T-Thanks,” you bit your lip, swallowing the pride you were not supposed to have if you wanted his attention, fearing he’d let you down the moment you showed some resistance.

Another shove.

“Have you thought about how to repay my kindness.”

“Re... Repay?!” you quaked as you flinched from the push in the back of your ribs. “Everything comes at a price, don’t tell me you forgot.”

He was in front of you, arms crossed and anger in his expression, the moment you hesitated to answer. You did forget, or more like, you didn’t hear the oracle scream it after you as you set out on your quest. “Of course, I did not forget.”

“Hm,” he snorted. “So, what to do I get?”

“What do you want?” you mumbled, making some more swift attacks under his strict eyes and icy touches. “Are you really going to give me what I want?” he asked, and you nodded - slowly. If it meant that you’d be able to make a change in the war outside, save many more lives than he could ever want, then sure, what kind of promise could it be? “Then I want you,” he hummed into your ear, and your body didn’t know what to do first - jump to the side or have your cheeks fill with heat.

“Don’t get full of yourself now,” he continued, passing you by as if nothing happened. “If I train you, you’ll become as strong as I am, and then...” Turning towards you, the same, shining silver sword appeared in his hands. “You will be my training partner, finally someone worthy to fight.”

Taking his own stance, you were almost afraid to imitate him, but it was as good of a lesson as any. “Is it a deal?” Felix asked, and you agreed with another nod. “That won’t do.” His stance loosened, a surreal experience to see knowing how correct and serious he was always. “If you ask me nicely, I can fulfill your wish. And only then.”

You gulped. Even if the sword wasn’t at your throat now, you felt like it was a throat-cutting decision to make. “If I become your training partner--”

“--it will be forever,” he finished your sentence. “Mine, and mine alone.”

Both of you took on your fighting stance again, his sword shining in the sun rays from above. Felix wasn’t one to give you a chance to think about things for too long, and as you later found out, it would be the skill that would keep you alive the longest. There was no choice to make, only responsibility and virtue, and as he dashed towards you, you knew your fate was sealed, accepting it with a quiet, "Okay," to yourself, rather than doing as he told you.

But you’d be alive long enough to win the war you so desired to end. Even if it meant that he’d come for you when the time was over, to take what he made out of you. What belonged to him, rightfully.

And would haunt you forever.

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noneatnonedotcom · 4 years

Note

RWBY Earlier; Ruby is training at Beacon Academy and encounters a group of Huntsmen who learn about her relationship with Jaune and mock her for it. Ruby takes exception to that and gives them a lesson in manners.

here’s what I came up with for this. if you wanna try writing for it as well feel free. I’m always curious to see what other people do with the same premise. everyone always has their own ideas it’s fascinating.

either way, I hope you like it RWBY Earlier

Chapter 2

The Lady Arc

Ruby was not so delicate a maiden that she didn’t know the truth of war. She might have specialized in fighting Grimm but she was by no means naive about what jaune did as a knight of the realm. She knew that when given the opportunity even normal men would become monsters and she knew that fighting those monsters ran the risk of becoming one of them.

Grimm were far easier to deal with.

So when jaune had come home with that bone-tired look on his face she had cared for her husband (and boy was calling him that still something that made her feel giddy). All in all, they had grown closer for it. And ruby had assured him that she would take no other than him. She loved him and had yang been around still she was sure her older sister would agree with her.

She did hope yang got back soon, her job as spring maiden had Oswald keeping her in minstrel. Which if you asked her was kinda stupid, why not have the spring maiden in vale so if something happened they had to go all the way to anima. It would only give them more time.

A paranoid part of her thought that perhaps it was Oswald trying to isolate her so she was more likely to leave her husband. The other part knew that was giving the old man far too much credit. In reality, she and her sister represented his best set of new agents. And that meant they were constantly busy

Jaune would probably help too but she and Oswald both knew that jaune wouldn’t follow orders from a man who had destroyed jaune’s way of life and had nearly left his family destitute after the great war. His ideals of democracy were great and all but ruby wasn’t really sold on the concept. Still, she and her sister were heroes just like their mother before them. She would fight Salem and her minions to the end.

Well as soon as both she and yang graduated that was. In truth, yang was being used as a diplomat to minstral purely because of her connection to lady Branwen. Even if the nobility was gone, the people remembered. Though just where the former lady had gone to after her family was betrayed by the last king of Vale was a mystery. Same with her uncle qrow.

She missed them both dearly. But at least her mother was able to raise both her and yang together. She felt confidant that they would both be home soon from their mission.

Now if only she could get Oswald and his other agents to stop hating jaune.

Her husband hated himself enough for all of them.

It was actually a surprise though not much of one that the butcher of Anima wasn’t the only title jaune had gained from his expedition. The savior of humanity was a far more popular one. Second only to his true moniker

Sir. Jaune The Just

His actions in defeating the monsters of the faunas rights rebellions and then his actions to protect Menagerie when Atlas threatened to invade had earned him quite a bit of respect. Though Vale remained firmly against him and she had the good headmaster to thank for that.

She found it funny, everyone but the country he fought for respected jaune. But jaune was so much a patriot that he hated himself. He truly was a son of Vale.

Ruby shook the morbid thought away with a rueful smile. Jaune would recover, he was already bouncing back with only a few days of them having been back together. And his knights still loved him. In time the people of vale would love him as well and be able to see that his actions while not right morally were necessary.

Her optimism was shattered with a call of “hey it’s the butcher’s whore! Done sucking the cock of that monster you call your man? Or maybe you came to see what a real man can do and not some coward who preys on the weak” shouted the former lordling Winchester.

She found it somewhat ironic that the man was disparaging jaune for his actions when he himself had owned slaves not ten years ago before the practice was well and truly outlawed. Oh certainly the family might argue that they were former criminals indentured to serve but that was hollow reasoning when they only took pretty looking faunas women.

She did as she had always done and simply ignored the idiots that made up his team. Yang would have probably beaten them up. And her mom probably would have destroyed them politically but she had better things to do than waste her time. Weiss was waiting for her and they both had classes to get to.

“Walking away huh? Hey, ruby? How’s old jauney boy holding up anyways? It’s a lot harder to do anything without an army backing you up huh? I bet the coward is probably hiding back in his room crying for his little wifey to come and hold him” she truly tried to ignore the cackling of the idiots. And if Weiss asked she’d explain that she didn’t intend on being late.

But jaune would do far worse to them if he heard. It was best to settle up debts as soon as possible. She loved her husband but the man was overzealous about protecting her and her honor at times.

So that’s why when she deployed her war scythe all she did was smile.

Even as she launched Sky away with a single swing she smiled.

Even as she took a single step back before cleaving clean through Cardin’s armor with her counter strike she smiled.

And even as she chased the other two idiots down and made them bleed she smiled

Jaune really was such a sweetheart.

Weiss looked at the slightly bloody ruby with a sigh and a smile “they’re not dead, are they? It’s bad enough we might be late for class but murder will be even harder to explain”

Ruby shook her head “no they’re fine. terrified, but fine.”

Weiss smiled politely “you would think they’d learn by now that angering a prodigy at combat is nearly as bad as angering jaune”

Ruby leaned over and mock whispered “truth be told i just think Cardin’s jealous”

Weiss raised an eyebrow “I had heard that his father had put forth a bride price for you but…”

Ruby shook her head “not of Jaune silly! Of Me!”

Weiss broke out laughing “ah I see, so he’s upset you got jaune for yourself”

Ruby nodded “jaune’s a pretty great husband, but honestly the fact that Cardin spends every waking moment thinking about him is the reason why it just wouldn’t work out.”

They walked in silence for a while before Weiss spoke up “so what’s the real reason you went so far?”

Ruby thought for a moment “you know why Cardin spends so much time thinking about jaune? Because he’s terrified of him. From a young age, jaune’s always been more powerful than Cardin. In politics, in economics, in prestige, and in charisma. The Arc family and jaune, in particular, have always been the one thing that his family didn’t dare act against.” she stopped in front of the statue to jaune’s father, the best friend of the last king of vale who had died protecting his king. “Up until now, Cardin had been able to say that he was at least physically stronger and better at combat then Cardin. Jaune’s victory proved that wrong. And the fact that he’s a hero in other continents, basically everywhere but Vale and Vacuo, it got to him.”

Weiss nodded “that doesn’t answer my question though, why did you go so far against them?” she reached out and hugged ruby “tell me the truth please”

Ruby tried to hold back tears but eventually, the dam broke “everything being said by those idiots is the things jaune says about himself” she hugged Weiss to her as hard as she could “AND IT’S NOT FAIR, JAUNE DID WHAT HE HAD TO! HE’S NOT A MONSTER WEISS AND I HATE THAT I CAN’T CONVINCE HIM OF THAT.” she fell to her knees and sobbed into her friend’s shoulder “Why should he suffer! He only did what they asked him to! The council sent him Oswald sent him! But they throw him away the second he does something that might look bad to their voters and those idiots who’ve never fought a day in their lives! So why Weiss Why my jaune!”

Weiss held her, ruby knew she didn’t have the answers but this wasn’t about answers this was about getting it out. And ruby had needed this. She hated that jaune was suffering and she couldn’t do anything to help. Some hero she was if she couldn’t even save her husband. And she cried for a while at the injustice of it clinging to Weiss like a lifeline.

Eventually, she calmed down, and still, Weiss held her in the quiet of the courtyard. Ruby sniffed bringing her head up “we’re definitely late for class”

“Those old fossils can stuff it, you’re more important”

Something about the Lady of White saying it made it funny to ruby and she laughed as her friend held her.

Not too far from where the two girls had their moment Ozma was left to ponder something. He found he couldn’t look at the statue of his old friend. Julius Arc was the previous wielder of Croceia Mors. and was the man who had died protecting him in his previous life as the last king of Vale. showing more loyalty and kindness to him than he’d experienced in all his lives.

And now he had cast away his son without even asking his side of the story.

“Have I truly fallen so far, old friend? Am I truly such a monster?” there was no response but Ozma couldn’t help but feel he’d lost the respect of the brave knight.

#lancaster #bssaz97 #lacaster rwby #ruby rose #Weiss #weiss schnee #rwby #rwby au

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batmanie · 4 years

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Old Habits - scriddler

“Jeeezus!!!” The yelp was quite loud and – to be honest – quite satisfying. Eyes wide, and with a hand clutching onto his shirt, exactly where the heart would be, Nigma made a perfect example of someone who was suffering a cardiac arrest. His chest was rapidly rising and falling as he was trying to catch his breath. “Did I scare you?” He knew he did, and it felt so strange that he was still able to enjoy those little things in his life after all he'd been through. “You look like you've seen a ghost.” “Perhaps I'm seeing one?” Edward had to take a moment to collect himself, his voice was still hoarse and breathless, which would have made the old Scarecrow smirk – not the new one, though. The 'new him' didn't know what fun was anymore. “And it's an ugly view,” Riddler frowned. “How did you even...” “Survive?” Crane cut in with the most casual tone. He took a step toward the source of the light but his whole head was hidden in the shadow of his hood. “How did I escape? Crawl out of the sewers? Drag myself back to the town with a broken leg to get medical attention? Well, obviously not thanks to you...” “I was going to ask: How did you manage to make yourself look even more ridiculous than before?” It was almost jovial how quickly Nigma was getting rude and offensive when feeling attacked. 'Some things never change', Scarecrow thought with a pang of nostalgia. “It is good to see you too, Edward.” It really was, even if Riddler didn't look too happy to see him. This little reunion in the dark and unwelcoming system of the underground tunnels which were currently Riddler's hideout was giving Scarecrow the false but somewhat soothing impression that nothing had changed while he was gone. “How have you been?” He decided to keep the conversation going – talking was one of Riddler's favorite activities after all. “Perfect!” Nigma waved his hand in a nonchalant gesture. Crane, being no less observant than he had always been, had already noticed all the signs that were telling otherwise. The room they were in, one of many in this maze of a place, looked like it hadn't been cleaned up in ages. Multiple papers were scattered across the floor along with some cables, tools, and all kinds of trash. Riddler must have spent a lot of his time down here, as his skin was so pale that it probably hadn't seen any natural sunlight in months. His cheeks were hollow, his hair messy and there were dark circles around his eyes. And in this sad picture, the only two things that seemed to be alive were Edward himself, and his eyes – radiating confidence, intellect and thirst for revenge.

“I assume you didn't kill the Bat?” “Not yet.” The man shrugged, pretending not to care but at the same time nervously tapping his fingers on the desk – one of his many motor tics. “But with my new plan he is as good as dead, don't you worry about that! As you can see, I'm very busy right now and I don't need you, or anyone, to distract me. I am a perfectly self-dependent one-man army, capable of besting the Bat on my own!” His angry, slightly high-pitched tone told Scarecrow just how much Riddler had actually changed. His time-alone had done the man no good but he was too far gone to notice that. “Do you want me to leave then?” “Yes, please!” Edward crossed his arms. It was more of an angry order than a polite request. “If you expected that I will ask you to stay, just because we used to be... whatever you want to call that. Well, sorry to disappoint you,” he turned his back to Scarecrow, now facing the desk littered with some blueprints. “I bet you are still very busy playing dead – so busy that for the past six months it didn't cross your mind to inform me that those news about the crocodile eating you alive were exaggerated!” Now, there was something new in Edward's voice, something similar to a sad and bitter undertone. Jonathan immediately caught on that shift and he had to admit, it got him interested. “Would it have been so hard, to contact me earlier?” The man continued, holding onto the edge of his desktop, as if it was a lifebuoy preventing him from drowning in his own madness. “Instead of treating me like I was nothing to you? Like I was one of those morons who wrote you off as dead?!” “I was dead...,” Scarecrow stated with a hushed, almost murmuring tone. “Jonathan Crane died that night in the sewers of Gotham. Now, there is only Scarecrow.” Riddler turned his head and laughed mockingly, the short, bark-like sound lacked any joy. “Oh, really? You seem rather fine for a dead-man!” “What makes you think, I am fine?” Riddler went silent and looked at him, surprised. It was a long, calculative stare, the longest one Edward had graced him with yet. Jonathan was sure, Riddler was about to ask him about the leg brace – the newest addition to Scarecrow's already terrifying look. He didn't – his gaze lingered on it but soon wandered higher. Jon stepped forward, sensing that this was the time to present his 'new face'. He took another step toward the man so the two of them were really close now. There was the desk behind Edward's back – no place to run – and even if the situation seemed harmless, Jonathan could already sense the tension between them. Slowly, he pulled his hood down, revealing the disturbing view underneath. Riddler's blue eyes widened at the sight of the dirty piece of cloth stitched to the very skin of Jonathan's face. Edward's right hand twitched and instinctively reached to examine the stitching but before his fingers touched the fabric, the man stopped himself. “Are you...insane?” He breathed out, in a half-shocked, half-furious manner. Scarecrow observed his reaction with anticipation, their eyes locked together as both of them refused to look elsewhere. “It felt like a necessity back then,” Crane made sure his voice was as smooth and chill as possible. He had quite a story to tell, however, he doubted Edward would understand him. “I had to patch up the open wound that used to be my face. All I had, was my old burlap mask so that was my first choice. Not the smartest one, I admit, since the infection spread through my whole body just a week later, leaving me delirious and weak for the next two months. And it was only worse from there...” Edward just stared at him, saying nothing even though he looked like he wanted to. Driven by old habit, Crane observed how the small veins over the man's temples pulsated with the rush of blood, and at the same time, he did a quick analysis of his own actions. What exactly had he expected from Nigma? Was it his pity that he sought? Did he desire to see, how poorly the man was doing without him? Well, he had gotten a taste of that, but did it please his cold, dark heart? “As you can see,” Scarecrow pulled up his hood and backed off, letting Riddler return to his comfort zone, “...I wasn't exactly in shape to come to you earlier. I did not mean to offend you...” Oh, so it was making peace then, was it? That was the purpose behind coming here after all those months. To convince himself, to convince Edward, that everything was, as it had always been – even if it was not. “Well,” Nigma awkwardly cleared his throat, his eyes examining the dirty, stone flooring for a little while before he was able to look at his guest again. “I guess, I have no choice but to accept your reasoning.” “That's very generous of you, Edward.” Riddler tried to smile but it came out more like a nervous twitch. “But where are my good manners,” he reminded himself and it seemed like all the resentment that had been there before, had vanished. An almost child-like eagerness replaced it. “Sit down, please.” He offered Scarecrow the only chair he got in his cramped, lonely dumpster. “Do you want anything to drink? Coffee? Hot cocoa? I had a second mug...somewhere around here.” “No, thank you, Edward,” Crane stopped him from searching through the dusty shelves. “I can't have hot beverages just yet. But I appreciate your effort. I think I will go now.” “Already? Why don’t you stay longer? I will share some juicy details about my next, big plan with you, and I can even show you a prototype of my latest contraption. I promise, it will blow your mind, haha. Metaphorically speaking, of course.” Edward must have missed that – talking to someone who would just sit down and listen to his crazy ideas.

To be honest, he himself might have missed the sound of a human voice just a little.

Deep down, Scarecrow knew his days were numbered, his body broken beyond repair. And it was his fear of dying defeated, humiliated, and forgotten that brought him back to Riddler.

...because of all people, it was Riddler who could understand that fear best. “Fine... Let’s talk about that plan of yours.”

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