#i know this was probably meant to be comic relief and it probably happens no matter who you are in the cabin with

[daily-hanamura]

#p4 #p4g #persona 4 #persona 4 golden #hanamura yosuke #yosuke hanamura #never let it be said that the IT guys were not assigned gay. because they were #i know this was probably meant to be comic relief and it probably happens no matter who you are in the cabin with #but er. yosuke i thought you wanted to be rescued. instead you seem pretty miffed. almost irritated at being interrupted. hmmmmm. #interesting #he's good with his queue

[the-writer-arrived]

Who... are you?

Synopsis: oh no! you got into an accident and now you don't recognize him. Will he tell you he is your lover? Or will he keep it a secret?

Characters: diluc ragnvindr; zhongli; alhaitham.

Warnings: gender neutral!reader; angst (i guess?? but not fluff either?? smth in between); not exactly hurt/no comfort, but whether you regain your memories of him or not will be up to your imagination :3

A/N: i can't believe my first fic is already past 2k notes what the hell 😭 thank you all so much!

When news reached him that you got hurt, he dropped everything that he was doing to find you at the Favonius Cathedral.

He is so incredibly relieved to see you awake, to see you alive.

However, his relief is short lived when you utter those three words...

"Who... are you?"

You... must be joking, right? You've always loved to play pranks on him to see him flustered or exasperated with your cute antics.

Please, for the love of Barbatos, please be joking...

But when Barbara says his name and the look of recognition doesn't appear on your confused expression, his heart falls to pit of his stomach.

You... forgot him? But how? Why?! Who--

No... No, none of this matters right now.

With a forced smile, he introduces himself.

"I'm Diluc Ragnvindr. You may not remember, but I'm your... friend."

He's thankful for Rosaria stopping Barbara from saying the truth.

He doesn't like having to lie to you, but he convinces himself it's for your own good.

Diluc feels so guilty for putting you in danger. It doesn't matter if your accident was simply an unfortunate situation or a premeditated attack towards you.

He has an inkling that it's probably the second option, knowing how many enemies he has...

How many more innocent people will have to get hurt, for him to understand he has to stop allowing others to get close to him? That he is just like his pyro vision, a flame too bright that burns everything it touches?

After he takes you to your previous house, Diluc goes straight into investigating the circumstances of your accident.

Even going as far as to ask for Kaeya's assistance, just to get to the bottom of this as quickly as possible, so he can assure your safety.

Going back home isn't the same anymore. The mansion doesn't feel like home anymore, not without your presence there.

You've gone back to when you didn't know him, but he can't do the same.

How could he, after experiencing something so sweet, so soft and perfect like your love?

Diluc's longing for you is nearly painful for his heart, to see you so close yet so far away...

...But he also can't bring himself to get out of your life completely and alleviate his suffering.

So, he settles on having pleasant but painfully platonic conversations with you as Diluc Ragnvindr, and protecting you as the Darknight Hero (the title you loved to utter just to tease him).

"...Maybe we were never meant to be, my love."

Xiao was the one who told Zhongli about you getting hurt.

The Vigilant Yaksha was doing his usual patrols, clearing out monsters and other evil spirits, when he spotted your unconscious form.

Dread filled his veins, fearing for the worst, but the thumping sound of your heartbeat inside your chest told Xiao you haven't departed from this world.

So, he took you to Wangshu Inn, asking Verr Goldet and Huai'an to call a doctor, before he went to find his old master.

Zhongli reassures Xiao that he shouldn't blame himself for what had happened to you and that he's extremely grateful to the young adeptus from taking you to safety.

The two enter the bedroom Xiao had left you to find you looking a bit disoriented, but awake.

"Xiao, there you are! I wan-- Oh? Who's that next to you..?"

The expressions on their faces would be considered comical, if the situation weren't so severe...

In all his 6000 years of living, there weren't many situations that has rendered the Lord of Geo speechless like he is right now...

No, he isn't an archon anymore, he is Zhongli, a consultant for the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, a mortal just like many others now.

And, as Zhongli, he's had his fair share of unexpected moments that has left him at a loss.

Especially when it comes to Director Hu's way of advertising their services...

But with you, Zhongli always had something to say: a piece of knowledge about the simplest of objects, an ancient tale from the begginning of time, a declaration of love he never tires of repeating to you...

So, to have him not knowing what to say is certainly a feat although not one you would be proud of, if you were aware..

Even so, the ex-archon doesn't let that affect him for too long.

"Greetings, my dear. It seems that your memories are a bit hazy, so allow me to remind you. I am Zhongli, your lover."

After your initial shock and bewilderment of having such a hot and sophisticated man claim that he's your lover at the information the tall man shared, your doubts are eased when Xiao confirms everything that was said.

If your adeptus friend, who isn't known for his fondness of humans, is standing by this man's words with such certainty, then this Zhongli must be telling the truth...

For a being that has being alive for a millenia, Zhongli always considered the passage of time to be something hard to keep track of.

In fact, that was one of the many challenges he had to face while adapting to the ways of the humans: he would blink and the newborn child of the couple he had seen the other day is already an elderly person.

This time, however, he feels that the time must be dragging its feet just to mess with him.

Each day that passes without your memories of him returning to you makes Zhongli restless...

He can't help but be reminded of that wretched thing called erosion...

The thought of you, his dear beloved, slowly forgetting everything and everyone precious to you... To become a shell of your self and to be plagued by anger and pain... He won't be able to bear to witness this happen again.

He knows humans age at a much faster pace than him, he knows that you won't be next to him forever like he so dearly wishes... But it's not time yet.

He still has time to hold you in his arms, to enjoy your affection, to marvel at your existence.

And Zhongli will not let anything get in the way of his happy years with you, not a temporary memory loss nor the erosion itself.

"Oh, you wish to know the story behind this object? I gifted it to you on our fifth date. Don't make that sad face, my dear, you're still in the process of recovery. I will gladly tell you about that day in great detail."

Usually, when someone receives news that their lover was found unconscious and is currently being taken care of at the Bimarstan, people expect to see them rushing to be at their beloved's side.

But Alhaitham takes the news with his usual straight face and leaves the Akademiya at an almost leisurely pace.

The Scribe is wildly known by his near excessive rationality that drives his behavior 99% of the time.

Therefore, it would be quite out of character for him to make a huge fuss like the matra who gave him the news expected. After all, letting your emotions take control at a moment of crisis doesn't help anyone.

That is what Alhaitham repeats to himself like a mantra while he makes his way to the hospital, his steps a bit quicker than usual, his eyebrows slightly more furrowed.

Has the Bimarstan always been so far from the Akademiya?

After finally reaching his destination, his eyes find you right away, laid in bed with a few scrapes and your head bandaged.

The doctor explains to him you don't have any grave injury, but, considering you hit your head, they can only be sure after examining you again after you wake up.

Alhaitham sits down on the chair next to your bed and opens his trusty book while he waits for you.

Unless they are either shameless or brave to stare at his face for a long time, no one notices that he's barely paying attention to the words written in the book. His eyes frequently switch to your sleeping form, before going back to the same paragraph he's been reading for the past thirty minutes.

The anxious Scribe is quick to notice the slight twitch of your eyelids and change of your breathing, signs that you are slowly awaking.

"Ah, finally decided to wake up? I was begginning to think that you find the Bimarstan's bed more comfortable than ours. If so, you truly have poor taste in furniture."

The tiny smile he has on his lips vanishes when, instead of your usual eye roll and smile peeking at the corner of your mouth, you frown at his teasing.

"First of all, rude. And second, who even are you to casually offend my taste in furniture? You don't even know me!"

...Of course things wouldn't be so simple.

Turns out that your head injury affected your memories, more specifically, the ones about Alhaitham.

The doctor said that it should be a temporary thing, even so how troublesome...

Even more troublesome is the fact that Alhaitham had to get Tighnari, Cyno and even Kaveh to convince you that he isn't lying when he says that he is your lover!

He supposes it's a good thing you have a sense of self-preservation and don't blindly trust everything that people say...

Still, it kind of hurt seeing you so skeptical at the idea of you two being in a relationship.

After bringing you home, he is quick to do and adapt his routine to make you as comfortable around him as possible during your recovery.

You feel awkward sleeping on the same bed as him? No problem, he'll take the couch for the time being.

You have a headache? Here's your medicine. Don't worry, it doesn't have the bitter taste that you hate.

But, no matter how much he tries to avoid that, there are moments when his old habits slip up and make things a bit awkward.

Like when he wrapped his arms around you from behind while half-asleep, causing you to flinch or when he leaned to give you a goodbye kiss before going to work and you leaned away in embarrasment.

While with you, Alhaitham never makes a single complaint or shows his frustration about this complex situation, none of this is your fault and he can see you working hard to remember him.

Away from you, though... He has never been more grumpy than before. Snarky comments at anyone who utters a single dumb thing (in other words, all the time), butting heads with Kaveh even more frequently and more distant than ever.

Alhaitham doesn't necessarily hate when unexpected things occur. Sometimes they brings good things, like you, in his life.

However, this situation is definitely something that brought nothing but headache for you both.

He can't keep on living without waking up with you in his arms, without your kisses, your banters... You made him addicted to you and now he's suffering from withdrawal symptoms.

He doesn't like the term "memory loss" for your current condition, because it implies your memories of him are lost forever, which they are not. They are simply misplaced in your mind, and he will do everything to help you find them again.

"Hm? Why am I following you around like a lost puppy? You misunderstand, I am simply testing my theory that if I spend more time with you, there is a higher chance for you to remember me more quickly. What about my work? The Akademiya can survive a few days without me. Besides, I have a much more important matter to focus on right now."

#blue.writes: genshin impact #blue.writes: diluc ragnvindr #blue.writes: zhongli #blue.writes: alhaitham #blue.writes: angst #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #diluc ragnvindr x reader #zhongli x reader #alhaitham x reader #al haitham x reader

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Man-Sized

8/9 God's Away on Business

Pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x F!OC

Tags: Explicit content, +18 audiences only. Smut, romantic angst, fluff. An unapologetic LOVE STORY. Sexual tension, mutual pining, banter, flirting, developing relationship, strangers to lovers. Simon Riley has a dark past (partly inspired by Modern Warfare 2: Ghost comics).

CW/TW: References to PTSD, depression, past torture and abuse in later chapters.

Summary: A uni student who pole dances at a strip club to pay her rent encounters a mysterious giant of a soldier seemingly incapable of falling in love.

I'm 20 minutes away. You home?

Sure! You're always welcome.

Simon never told her if he was a minute away. Something was different here.

The key turned on the lock of her front door sharply 20 minutes after he had sent that text, and she went to greet him.

Their hug lasted longer than usual, and she could feel the relief and sadness just pour from him. He embraced her like a 200-pound shadow, then kissed her gently on the cheek, not mouth — that kiss spoke of companionship rather than lust, and her heart melted against his chest.

He looked like hell. Not only drained but like he had been through hell. Something awful must've happened if a man like Simon couldn't conceal the emotional maelstrom he was evidently in.

"You just got back?"

"Yeah."

"How was it?"

She didn't usually ask How was work. It wasn't really work. It was something else.

Simon didn't answer, he just took off his jacket and shoes like he was sleepwalking. He continued that sleepwalk to her couch. It had become some sort of a safe place he had carved out from the world to curl in, even if he never curled in anywhere, simply sat down with a manspread that usually made her mouth water. But seeing him stare off into space like he had just seen a mushroom cloud in the distant horizons didn't make her want to jump his bones. It made her want to close him in a hug and shelter him from all the pain in the world.

"I lost people yesterday."

"Oh. Oh shit."

Something like this was bound to happen at some point. Her first feeling was relief from knowing that Simon had survived unscathed from whatever horror he and his team had been through.

"That's… I don't know what to say."

Now that he had poured some of that exhaustion on the floor of her hallway, she noticed that he was enclosed in a shroud of latent need for revenge. The air seemed to thicken around him: of course he would deal with heartbreak by silent wrath. His eyes reminded her of the Antarctic stare; they just kept staring off into the void while also appearing sharp and aware, like he might burst into action from the slightest little threat such as a sudden sharp sound. Her tiny little home, soft lights, and messy book piles seemed childish and nonsensical compared to the ominous man who had seen too much.

"23."

"What..?"

"23. The number of people I have lost in total."

Shit… Fuck. She tried to remember something useful from the psychology books she had gobbled up not too long ago. But she couldn't turn into a therapist and offer him treatment. He might only laugh at such tries, anyway. Surely they offered counseling services or trauma therapy in his workplace for these kind of situations… But Simon probably steered clear of those, too.

"Is Soap alive?"

"Yeah. Wounded."

Compassion took over, and she finally walked to him, sat down, and reached to place a hand over his.

"Sometimes I wonder if thousands of people are worth one good man," he said with a deepening, impending fury, a tempest barely held in confinement. "Not to talk about three."

Thousands of people…

That meant… Wow. Okay.

He was definitely working on preventing missiles or some shit. Saving the world.

Sweet Jesus… And she had just joked about it.

"This world could use another flood."

The shroud turned into a whole cage that prevented her from comforting him. The hand underneath her palm seemed to tingle and burn as if it was coated with tiny spikes.

He was always so dramatic, but it didn't make him sound whiny or childish. It was actually scary. He was the weapon of mass destruction, an atom bomb in one man, about to detonate and level a whole city with a blast and nuclear winds.

"Have you ever thought about… quitting, you know? Doing something else?" She offered him a choice like someone would offer a doughnut to a murder victim, hoping it would make the pain go away.

"I was an apprentice to a butcher before I enlisted."

"Well, that's… a bit different from what you're doing now."

"Is it?"

Another sliver of information about his past, and she wasn't necessarily surprised. The worlds they lived in were like night and day. She had a safety net, friends who didn't kill or fear being killed, she had a degree, access to education, a promising career in the culture field ahead of her. Simon had a rough childhood and a dark past; he had chopped corpses of dead animals for money and then pursued a career in killing humans. He had lost 23 and killed God knows how many people.

"Is there anything I can do?"

"You got any food?"

"Sure. Um, no. But I'll order something."

She moved to rise from the couch, but he turned his hand and seized her by the palm. The warm fingers closed around hers and gave her a soft squeeze.

"I like that pasta sauce you make."

"The Bolognese?"

"Yeah."

"Then that's what you shall have."

There wasn't much else she could do. He wouldn't, or couldn't talk about it, so she ran to the nearest market to grab minced meat and some fresh herbs because dried ones simply wouldn't do right now. She made him food and seasoned it with as much love as she could while he put up a floating shelf she had gotten for books that didn't fit in her bookshelf anymore.

The scene was domestic, almost traditionally so. She had never thought of herself as a woman who would happily cook for a man. A man who put up her furniture for her. But then again, she had never thought she would date a man like Simon in the first place.

She suggested they watch a few episodes of a new tv show she was binging while they ate. Then he went to the shower, and she soon stood at the door, asking if he wanted to be alone. There was no answer, which in Simon's case meant it was safe to proceed. He was facing the cascading water as she stepped in to hug him from behind.

Perhaps it was the simple things. Even when the world was burning or war was raging or families were being torn apart, it was the simple things even then: some good, homemade food, some distraction, no matter how brainless and meaningless, some skin-on-skin connection and a good night's sleep.

It wasn't much; it wasn't a therapy session or a resurrection or anything life-changing. It wasn't much… But on the other hand, perhaps it was perfectly enough.

She gathered he might not be in the mood right now, but when he grew hard just from her embracing him, she slithered a hand down and stroked him shyly. He didn't stop her from pumping him to a release filled with weary sighs while he merely leaned on the tiles as she tried her best to alleviate his pain. He grabbed her hand after and laced their fingers together, used her hand to hug himself while a single, almost inaudible sniff pierced the sound of running water. It immediately turned into him clearing his throat — Simon didn't know how to cry.

He usually slept with boxers, perhaps a shirt on too, but this time he wore a whole set of sweatpants and a long-sleeved shirt into bed.

"You got that Glock here somewhere?"

He checked the mag and gave the gun a routine inspection, which seemed more like a comforting procedure than having anything to do with actual necessity. He had left it to her fully operational and with a weighted note to remember to rack the slide before firing.

It dawned on her that his gift served a whole other purpose too. It had been planted in her apartment, and not just for her protection.

A bleak thought passed through her mind about whether she would die that night in the hands of a traumatized, paranoid soldier, but she crawled into his arms nevertheless. He fell asleep right away — a sign of deep exhaustion. She wanted to caress him, hold him, but he rarely let her. Even now, when he was at his most vulnerable, he was the one who spooned her as they drifted off into sleep while there was a knife tucked under his pillow and a gun sitting on the headboard of the bed.

But instead of a possible homicide victim, she felt like a sleep toy when he tightened his grip on her through sleep with a sharp, irritated rumble when she tried to change position only slightly. It was then that she cried the tears he could not.

***

The darkness woke her up with a nightmare. Not a cold sweat one, but the kind where you were free falling and woke with a jolt just before the impact.

It was a familiar dream where she tried to hide from her abuser, the one who was supposed to love her but had turned out to be a grooming hunter. The most nightmarish thing wasn't that she was being chased again. No: the most aggravating thing was that she still felt weak. She was a grown-up now, she had more grit, she should've been perfectly capable of fighting back with words and fists. She wanted to voice her will, shout at him to leave her alone, even hurt that man, find some weapon to stab him with, just fight back somehow — but her muscles never worked, and time was running out: he was getting inside the building she was hiding in.

This time, it was different. With ecstatic thrill, she realized she could call for help. This time, she had a weapon called Simon. But the rotten thing was that he didn't answer the phone. He didn't come to her aid even when she sent distressed texts, and she was alone, weak, nothing but trash to the man about to come and bend her under his will again.

It was just a dream, but waking up was always a relief. She was breathing like she had just been saved from drowning. To her surprise, Simon was fast asleep, probably too spent to stay vigil, which was both unsettling and heartbreaking. He was hard against her, and she realized it must've bled into her dream, adding to its menacing nature.

Still, the relief was immeasurably sweet as she noticed Simon was physically here, holding her. Trauma was a bitch, but it didn't get to her this time. Nothing could hurt her. No one could come and take her away from the heavy, safe cage of his arms. The ripples of the nightmare slowly turned into something entirely different. How she could get wet just from feeling him thick and pulsing against her back after such a night terror was… well, it was new.

What had happened in the shower before they retreated to bed was fucking hot. Despite the evening full of grief and loss, that simple, urgent, shiver-ridden handjob in the shower was so beautiful that she could've cried from that alone. He was so done in that she finally got past the wall that seemed to prevent her from touching him. The connection was so pure that she didn’t quite know where she ended and he began.

She had never felt this kind of bond with another human being before. She hadn't even known that there were men like Simon, and perhaps there weren't. He was one of a kind.

Curling up together amidst a burning world, a selfish world, a world sinking like a ship, was so utterly beautiful that it was breaking her heart into pieces.

She shifted, sure of Simon waking from her turning around, but he only stirred a little and fell back asleep. Her hand seemed to have a will of its own as it found its way under his pants and caressed him. The thick flesh pulled against her palm, calling her to give him more of that stress relief, to drown him in love. Surely he would only be pleasantly surprised if she woke him up with her mouth.

She didn't get far before a hand shot out. Fingers scraped against her scalp and grabbed, yanked her by the hair, then raised her from between his legs.

Fuck… Of course.

How could she be so stupid?

"That's not a good idea, sweetheart," he said with a sleepy, slightly alarmed grunt. "Even though I appreciate the gesture."

He gentled his grip on her as if it had only been something naughty that had accidentally, in the spur of the moment, turned into too rough a treatment. Her scalp was burning, but what shocked her more was witnessing how quick his reflexes could be.

She was dealing with someone who had gotten used to being touched only with violence, with pure intention to cause harm. The darkness was the time for phantoms; they appeared in her bedroom as if she had called them forth with her mouth. The nightmare was still fresh on her mind, giving ground to having another talk about things neither of them wanted to discuss… But she had wanted to ask a certain question from the moment she had seen all those scars.

"Have you ever been tortured?"

The hand caressed her hair now, and she cursed that they almost always made love in the darkness. She wanted to see him, needed to see him, to make sure that that hand belonged to Simon instead of a ghost.

"Just ask how many days."

"How many days?"

"98."

She had expected the answer to be something like two or three days. That Simon had survived full-on torture without breaking for a week, at the very maximum.

98 days covered over 3 months.

He took her hand and brought it to his ribs, on a protruding scar she had seen many times. It wasn't the most prominent, but it was, apparently, one with the meanest memory.

Shouldn't have asked… Shouldn't have asked…

"Got slapped up on a meat hook like those pigs back there in the butchery. You believe in karma?"

"Simon.. Jesus Christ."

"Nah, the hook was the nice part. It's the brainwashing that really gets to ya." He rubbed himself with her hand as if to relieve a long-forgotten pain.

"If the mind breaks, you're done."

Simon wasn't living in the same world as her. He lived in the same realm as Roman slaves who were slaughtered for entertainment in the Colosseum, as soldiers freezing to death on the Eastern Front of World War 2, as political prisoners tortured in North Korean internment camps.

"This is horrible."

"What's horrible is you wakin' me up like this and not finishing the job."

Shivers of ice seeped down her spine. He was so unfazed… and it wasn't just denial or a defense mechanism. He was simply in terms with what had happened to him — what had been done to him. He didn’t turn his gaze away from the abyss. She wouldn't call it healthy or normal, but it was mature as hell, something so profoundly self-sufficient and fearless that she knew she would never meet a man like Simon.

Feeling both scared and aroused, she granted his wish and took him back in her mouth. They had just talked about meat hooks and psychological torture, but he was hard as a rock. The moan that left him as she went deep and flattened her tongue against him was an exhausted and deprived sigh, and she felt tears welling up.

He was broken and perfect and beautiful, he simply wouldn't yield. Not in any storm, not before a hurricane, not amidst a fallout, not in the thick of whatever apocalypse would come and rain upon this world. The least she could do to honor such a man was to make him sigh like that.

The moans that left him were different from when he was fucking her. They sounded fragile, arduous, and brought pain to mind. His enemies had tried to break him for nearly 100 days and failed. She couldn't stop thinking about where all those scars had come from — mutilation, beating, cutting, flagellation, not to mention being suspended on a meat hook…

Had it ended in him being buried alive? Or was that a whole other story? And who had been in the coffin with him? An enemy or a friend?

He said the physical torture wasn't even the worst of it…

She thought about how he always looked so incredibly tired, was so paranoid about someone coming to get him. He had most likely been subjected to sleep deprivation and constant interrogation, other slow methods meant to break someone psychologically. Methods that escaped her imagination.

Tears ran down her cheeks, and she sobbed against him, like a pathetic woman who knew nothing of the world’s darkness. A killer's hand found its way in her hair again, this time with the gentlest caress.

"Dove… C'mere."

Whatever test this was, she felt like a total failure when releasing him and letting him pull her into another staunch embrace.

"I'm sorry," he said softly while petting her hair like she was a child who had had a nightmare.

He shouldn't be sorry for anything. He shouldn't be consoling her for his own torture. Her own past seemed like a walk in the park compared to this, her depression was laughable. Even when she knew these kinds of things shouldn't be compared.

"Sometimes forget that you're a civilian."

How on earth he could forget that was beyond her. What Simon had forgotten, though, was what civilian life was like. What ordinary, day to day life looked and felt like. Why would he want to continue his job after everything he had been through?

Unless he didn't care if he got killed.

Unless he wanted to get away. Had been wanting to get away for years now, just like her…

The tears were running in streams now, and her nose was stuffed, broken sighs passed through her mouth as he kept her in one piece with a simple hug.

"Gotta say it gets me fuckin' hard when you shed tears for me,” he said, amused, while she was crumbling under the weight of their darkness.

"You're always so cocky," she sighed, trying to get air through her mouth because her nose was clogged from the tears.

"Isn't that what you like about me?"

When she wouldn’t speak, he turned her around to lie on her stomach and started to caress her back. Slow and steady, purposeful. He cherished her from neck to waist, rubbed the knots between her shoulder blades, soothed tension in places she didn't even know she had any. It was the gentlest touch she had felt since childhood, a caress of her entire being.

How poetic, that a butcher was the only one to have touched her with such mercy.

She should be the one doing the comforting, but here they were again. All those psychology journals, all those books, all that education, and he was the one who knew what to do, how to handle his shit. And her shit too.

"C'mon... Tell me you like it."

The callous hand cupped her ass, slid down her thigh, beckoned it to lift to gain access to her. It was just an inspection due to her not having said a word, and he must've taken it as a sign of her being proud and stubborn... And then the night laughed at her with a gratified haze as his fingers met her wetness.

"Alright, have it your way. But you're always drippin' for me… That's how I know ya like it."

He relished in what he found, spread the moisture all over her folds, causing her hips to rise up to present her pussy to him — like it was normal that she was soaked after such a sad evening and a fright of a night.

But Simon didn't seem to regard it as perverse at all. To him, it was quite natural, mostly an endearment, as he climbed on top of her like a god of war about to get a taste of bliss after a hard day on the battlefield.

The bulged tip found her entrance with a familiarity that was only sublime. He was such a tease when he wanted to be, coating himself with her before going straight in.

"Got your eyes and your cunt wet for me. If that ain't love, don't know what is."

Words escaped her again as he stretched her wide, and she could feel his hunger, both their hunger. He simply had more patience than she did to not act upon it right away. He set a pace that was sweet and slow, so greedy that it made her grab the sheet in a tight fist.

"You're hopeless," she sighed while her back arched to meet him in perfect sync, the rhythm they had established long ago was the most divine for both of them. Perhaps he wanted to feel alive too, especially on a night like this. His hand found hers, the one grabbing the sheet, and she opened for him, interlaced her fingers with his, and squeezed. The sadness turned into a lazy, warm pool of love and arousal, even euphoria.

"That's it sweetheart… what else? Tell me how much you like me."

It was never straight-shooting with him. She couldn't just say that he was driving her insane. It had been embarrassing enough to spill all that love in the air when she had been drunk, with him between her legs like a bloodhound that had caught scent.

So she told her what he disliked about him. Those things happened to be the ones she absolutely loved about him as well.

"You talk too much," she offered, already out of breath.

"Never hear that at work."

"Probably because you don't fuck your co-workers."

He laughed at that, so uncharacteristic and unbridled that it made tiny bubbles brim all over in her, too.

"Know a few dolls who wouldn't mind if I did."

Jealousy bled instantly. No — it clawed at her insides. Simon had women on his team? He had discreetly left them unmentioned up until this point.

It crossed her mind that maybe he was the lovesick one now. But that couldn't be true… He was just being arrogant, as always.

"Don't worry darling. I'm all yours."

That husky purr drove her only more nuts. He even sent his hands down to her waist and held her steady while making it known to whom she belonged.

"Think you can handle me?"

The next thrust was punctuated, his balls pressed against her clit, rewarding him with a tight moan she simply couldn't hold back. The appeased rumble above her told her that he only got a kick out of this childish boasting.

"I don’t know. Your ego is too big for me," she tried to sound dry during yet another delicious fucking.

"Got somethin' else that's big," he bragged, voice covered in molten gold. "Right? Just for you."

On that, she refused to entertain him. He knew perfectly well just how big he was. Simon didn't do relationships but had surely had his fair share of women who had run into his arms more than gladly. Far more eagerly than her, or at least, with far less dignity. It was despicable, but she was jealous of his past too and envied every single one of them, whether the women he'd had amounted to dozens or hundreds.

"You like big men?" He brushed her hair aside from her cheek as if wanting to see her face to read the answer from her expression, even if it was too dark to see anything.

"I like men who know when to shut up," she blurted.

A laugh, rough but hearty, echoed in the bedroom.

"Marry me."

Her eyes went wide, her jaw opened, a quick gasp passed through…

"Or don't. 'S not worth the pension."

A joke… He was joking.

Her eyes fluttered closed, but her mouth was left hanging open; then it slowly but surely curved into a quivering little smile. This goddamn man would be the end of her.

He caressed her again, then brushed a thumb over her lip in a soft, yearning gesture that told her he wanted to kiss her but couldn't from this position. The gentle lovemaking in the dark thick of night was sweeter than any pain, and she did something rebellious: she reached for that thumb, captured it in her mouth, and sucked.

"Fuck…"

It was a surprised huff. Completely taken aback.

She swirled her tongue around it, gripped it tight, mouthed it like it was his cock — and could feel his hips buck unexpectedly.

"Not gonna last long if ya..-"

The hurried explanation ended in a lengthy groan, and the body above her went rigid, then shuddered. He came without warning, the thumb was pushed even further into her mouth, and he was buried in her to the hilt, hissing and moaning like it caused him pain.

He was always a gentleman when it came to her pleasure, never chased his own before she had gotten hers first. It must drive him a bit mad to spill so soon — especially when it wasn't even the first time today.

It was the softest cataclysm she had ever seen, another stealthy peek behind those high brick walls. His body crushed her, the massive arms closed in around her, he rubbed his face somewhere in her neck… and he was trembling. Perhaps it was his way of weeping since he couldn't cry actual tears.

He was finally speechless, gathering himself after an unusually weak moment. He swallowed, panted, then swallowed again. Struggled to regain control, snatched it back like an injured soldier. But he wasn’t angry, nor was he ashamed, he was pretty damn delighted.

"Now look at what you did," he scolded, but the tone was playful. He slipped out of her mouth, the heavy chest was throbbing against her back, and she mourned the fact that her skin only met cotton.

"You had it coming."

Arousal made her voice thicker than usual, and he buried his face further in her hair.

"Really…"

And again, he wouldn't pull out. She was just gathered in his arms and dragged to lie on her side. Her back met a solid chest, and the hand traveled up her throat, making her expose her neck for him to wolf from behind. It was probably her weakest spot – and as soon as he noticed it, he took advantage of the knowledge. He even used teeth on her, made love bites like they were some horny teenagers. She would have to wear high collars for classes next week…

"Does that feel nice?" The attentiveness was nearing unbearable proportions, his voice so close to her ear that her eyes rolled back. He was big, even when soft, and continued to rub against her after slipping out. Another hand dove down to assist her reach her own peak.

"Judging by how wet you are, it does."

He was right, as always. The tears were dry, but her pussy was not; she was so wet that it was a miracle how he was able to be as precise as he was.

How the hell could one man be so good at everything…

"You're too sweet for your own good," he whispered when she shattered against that chest and those fingers, her own flexing against his arm as she came. She let him carry her to the shore, break on it like a wave. The broken cries were such a signature, the music of them such a tell, that it really didn't matter that she didn't, couldn't use words with him.

This was the best therapy either of them could get, no matter what any book or professional said. They were wildly alive, they had found each other through horrors and blood and tears. Somehow, he had found his way to her orbit, collided with her in that dark, grimy, degraded place where she danced for money for a tortured killer like him. Her job was a good workout, and it paid the bills, but it had also brought Simon to her, and she had never been more grateful for deciding to go on those pole dance classes years ago.

"I have to wear high necks to school again," she said afterward in his arms, all snug and prepared to glide back to sleep.

"Serves you right."

He was hard again while she was feeling sore and puffy and content — and slathered, with both of their juices, which he used to lazily guide himself through her folds.

"Ready for another round if you are," he offered.

That would be his third one already… The ungodly amount of stamina on this man was frightening.

"I- I don't think I can."

It was mostly an acknowledgment of his size, and they both knew it. Simon just tightened his hold on her, appearing quite pleased with this outcome. Won another round, the gloating, lovable bastard.

"Alright, dove. Let's get you some sleep."

***

The next morning, when she was making him an omelette he suddenly began to speak.

"I usually fuck everything up when shit hits the fan, no matter the cost."

She turned off the stove and moved the pan away to stop the hissing sound threatening to drown his voice.

"This time, I just wanted to get back."

It was a confession of another kind… A compliment. Might even be the highest compliment she had ever received from this man. Simon wanted to stay alive and return to her rather than avenge his fallen ones.

Still, there was bound to be recoil, some survivor's guilt — or a bitter self-reflection moment of a superior.

"Are you blaming yourself?"

"I don't know. No, that's not what I meant."

"I realized…" His brows drew together in an attempt to search for the right words. "I realized there that… You might be the only person I can trust."

She was moved, ripe for walking to him right then and there and relieve that tension in his shoulders. Freaking finally give him that massage he had yearned for since autumn. There was something profoundly wrong with her that she hadn't done it yet.

He always attended to her. It was supposed to be a display of authority, but she knew that the best leaders didn't lead with fear; they served. It was high time someone served him.

"It's not a good sign," he muttered.

"I would see it as a great sign," she said with a shy smile, but it died on her lips as she saw how he only appeared to fall deeper into misery.

"Right? Simon?"

"I thought I already dealt with this shit 10 years ago."

That sentence sent ice down her back. Her skin broke into goosebumps, they seemed to travel all the way up to her head. Her palms were already sweating by the time he spoke again.

"You see, everyone I trust either dies or…" Simon was staring inwards into some distant memory she knew nothing about. She went to sit on the small piece of furniture that could almost be called a dinner table. Not necessarily because she wanted to get closer to him, but because her stomach was churning and she feared she might faint in her little kitchen.

"Everyone I love, dies."

She forced a hand reach out to grab his as she tried to call him back to the present moment and back to her.

"That can't be true. I mean, that can't be set in stone kinda true."

"Who knows."

The walls were suddenly so high that she couldn't get to him even when they were holding hands like this.

But this was the most precious thing in her life. She would fight for it if she must.

"I'm willing to take that risk," she said without fear.

"I admire your courage."

He didn't say he was willing to take that risk too. She hadn't quite prepared for that, nor for what came after.

"I can't do my job if I'm…"

"If you love someone?" She offered when he wouldn't continue.

She fucking hated his job at this point. She hated his dead father, and she hated the Manchester slums, she hated everyone who had hurt him and betrayed his trust. But it was like peeling an onion when it came to Simon: there was always a new layer underneath the one that was shed away. Who knew what was hidden at the core, or if she would ever even reach it?

"Well, what about… your mom?"

"Dead."

"You have siblings?"

"Dead."

Holy shit. Things were even worse than she had thought.

"What about friends? Like, off work?"

"Not anymore."

Terror began to swell and roll inside her like a tidal wave. A menacing calm before the storm, an eerie silence a split second before the explosion.

"You have nobody?"

He stared off into space, telling her with that look alone that he had no one. He released her hands, or rather, forced her to release him. Then he dropped the atom bomb.

"I didn't mean for things to go this far."

All her fears, long since lulled to sleep, crawled through the earth to suffocate her.

It was true after all: she had been just a bit of fun, a one-night stand that had turned into a plaything. A plaything who had latched itself onto a man who didn't want extra baggage.

"What a nice thing to hear." Her voice was metal, and Simon wouldn't say anything, proving her worst nightmares true.

He had had enough of her and now wanted to end things. The beautiful dusk had rolled into a knifelike dawn, and it was time to finish the show.

"Then why are you still here?" She finally dared to look up at him, and he looked confused, like he didn't know the answer to that question.

Things spun out of control so fast that she felt faint in the head. It was hard to think rationally when all their shared memories were suddenly covered in a wicked haze of shallow fucking, noncommitment, and her being an absolute fool for having believed that Simon would want her for the rest of his life.

"I get it that you're a super secret soldier spy, that you have to sneak around and give me a heart attack every other week. I get that we can't be together as much as I would like. But if you don't even want this, then what the hell are you doing here?"

His eyes were wide, his throat worked an arduous swallow. He looked more hurt than ever, more in pain than he had been last night due to the death of his teammates.

But to her, it was the look of a poker player who had got caught red-handed in cheating.

How dare he joke about marriage and elaborate on how sweet she was during the night, only to set everything on fire the next morning?

She was just a sweet little stray cat he liked to pet and pamper and fuck when he had the time, a nice little vacation from work filled with excitement. Everything needed to be exciting to him, he needed a dose of adrenaline and knife play and showering bullets to make him hard so he could fly back to grey London to get a go with his pole dancing little school girl.

Putting up shelves, seeing pictures of her spending Christmas with the family, tea and omelette in the morning were too mundane, too boring. She had been another kind of adrenaline shot.. But now she was only a dry syringe with the words I love you spoken in the air.

She got up and took a few steps back, tried to cut off a love that she already knew wouldn’t die, would never, ever die.

"This is so fucked up. If I'm just some momentary lapse in your life, then…" she shook her head at a loss for words. He had been silent for the whole outburst, but at her last suggestion, he cut in.

"No. Never. You're–"

She was so riled that she couldn't even hear his words. "You know what? Go do your job then. I'm sick and tired of waiting for you to come home to me, only to hear something like that. God…"

He snapped his mouth shut after she cut him off and simply raged on, all the longing and confusion of whole months streaming out of her mouth with an annoying high-pitched account. If she hated her voice right now, she could only imagine how it must sound to him. Her irritating hysteria only worsened the situation, especially when Simon remained so fucking calm.

"This is just…" She laughed through tears she didn't want him to see. With sheer willpower, she fought those tears back to the abyss. He would probably just get off on seeing her cry.

After all, she was the sweetest girl there was. Too sweet for her own good. The most gullible, naive piece of shit.

"I don't know how this is gonna work."

He stared at her with chest heaving, then his breath settled into a calm, ordered roll, his expression turned to stone. The rage was directed inwards before it could lash out at her. The man called Simon turned into Ghost, a professional killing machine, so quickly amidst a raging storm that she could hear the eye of it reach them, the whole world around her go silent. Or perhaps she was momentarily deafened by that cold-hearted stare that turned away from her with a final, lingering tinge of sadness. Even that was gone by the time he rose from the table and walked to the hallway.

Her heart was struck with a blade; she bled dry before she could even take a step to follow him. She saw him put his shoes on, then reach for his jacket, which he flung on with heavy shoulders and a broad back turned to her like a shield.

Simon was resigning.

He was fucking leaving.

She opened her mouth, but no words came out. He reached for his pocket and drew out a cigarette and a lighter, the flash of cold steel stinging her eyes although there was little sunlight because the day was grey. The Zippo was something she had found for him from a thrift store, and it had the tusked Snaggletooth logo of Motörhead on it. It felt like the perfect gift after noticing Simon had played the band's music from some old, burned cd when he had taken her on that shooting trip. He had ruffled her hair when receiving it, evidently pleased. "Knew you were a keeper," he had said when she told him she loved Motörhead too.

Her eyes were brimming with tears, the cigarette was sent between his lips, and he wouldn't look back, only marched to the door with heavy steps.

The fear wouldn't die even when she tried to tell herself that he was only going for a smoke to calm his nerves from her sudden fit. They would talk things through when he got back.

Which was why she never said anything, didn't follow him.

The door slammed shut, and she swallowed and turned to get a sip of her coffee. Her hands were shaking, the coffee was cold, and she realized she had just basically told him to get out. That cold-blooded stare still haunted her, and she wanted to go check if Simon was truly there, smoking on those steps and being a wall, her wall, against the cold, uncaring world.

She played the conversation over and over in her head, what was spoken, and the frost of horror turned her senses sharp, her ears started to ring from the silence. Simon had told her he trusted her and she had just freaked out — hadn't even let him finish what he had tried to say.

She wanted, needed to tell him right this second that she was sorry for being such a lunatic. She turned for the door, then walked back, forced herself to remain calm.

He needed space, and she didn't want to upset him more than she already had. He was older than her, used to nuclear seasons and warheads and blunt trauma, he was sharp as a whip. He wouldn't get rattled so easily. He would come back, smelling of fresh smoke, he would tell her what to do. That they would make it work no matter what. Flesh out a plan.

Because that’s all she wanted to hear. That he was serious and wanted this to work as much as she did. That it was just some miscommunication.

But her instinct told her that something was terribly, horribly wrong.

Minutes passed, and she finally went to open the door, and there was no one there. The streets were silent, the grey clouds even darker still, hanging over her like doom. She was feeling nauseous, a shudder went through her whole body, then her teeth started to rattle.

She closed the door and turned and tried to take a step, but her knees gave in and she slumped somewhere on the floor of her hallway filled with shoes and dirt and emptiness.

#simon riley x oc#ghost x oc#ghost smut#simon riley smut#simon ghost riley x oc#mw2 smut#ghost fanfiction#simon riley fanfic#cod fanfic#simon ghost riley#simon ghost riley x female oc#simon riley x female reader#ghost x female reader

#simon riley x oc #ghost x oc #ghost smut #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x oc #mw2 smut #ghost fanfiction #simon riley fanfic #simon ghost riley x female oc #ghost x female oc #simon riley x female oc #simon ghost riley fic

[vanillacreambunny]

words: 1063

warnings: dottore but not (it's a segment), probably ooc, most likely a ton of plot holes, mentions of experimentation

notes: I contemplated posting this because I'm nervous, but I mustered up the courage to do so. I haven't written for Genshin Impact before. Maybe I'll write something proper eventually.

I was just thinking about Dottore and what would happen if he made another segment after Sumeru, and if that segment escaped with a former test subject. I don't even know if that's possible lol.

This is just a scene that came to mind, and I wrote it.

Sorry for any spelling or grammatical errors ♥

The metal clasp breaks as he yanks the earring from his lobe, its jagged edge ripping through his ear. In an instant, the connection is severed, the voice in his head fading out and leaving him alone with his thoughts for the first time since his creation. The silence is both unsettling and a relief, though a part of him resists, for once questioning his own judgment. His gaze flickers to you, the neon glow catching your eyes in the darkness long enough to give him pause. There is no time to dwell on the vial that rests in the palm of his hand; it’s a useless distraction—a flaw in his existence.   

Without further delay, he throws the vial onto the ground with more force than necessary, the glass shattering beneath his boot. Bright blue liquid stains his feet and seeps into the wooden floorboards.  

He almost mourns the loss.   

His creator breathed life into him for the sole purpose of his research. He can understand the reasoning behind his conception; however, the scales did not tip in his favor. Orders were given, and he was meant to follow without question, a mere puppet in the grand scheme of things. He may be one segment of a whole, but his mind is far too great to be squandered. Those who came before him lacked his fortitude, all too happy to waste away for a man who could care less about whether they lived or died. He learned from their past failures and swore he would be more than a means to an end.  

“Doctor . . . Dottore . . .” It’s almost comical how easily you draw him from his thoughts; he has yet to decide if he finds it amusing or worrisome. He’s stuck with you for now, he might as well humor you in the meantime. “Is everything okay?”  

“Never better,” he drawls, folding his arms behind his back. An air of uncertainty hangs over you, and the hint of fear in your voice as you utter his name does not go unnoticed by him. Of course, you fear him—that is a given. Your concern for him is not. There are not many things in this world that perplex him, and somehow you do.  

The boat lurches forward, and your face pales considerably, sweat beading on your brow.  

“You, on the other hand, look like you’ve seen better days.”  

His gaze lingers on you, observing how your frail human body trembles from the cold, a small reminder of your mortality. You’re not properly dressed for the bitter Snezhnayan weather, and he wonders how well you’ll fare in such conditions. The cabin provides shelter, albeit not enough to drive away the eternal chill that permeates the region.  

Logically, he knows you are worthless to him. You’re weak—a liability. He should dispose of you, otherwise you’ll drag him down, and he can’t afford that. There is no reason he shouldn’t, so why does he falter? Your frightened expression flashes in his mind’s eye, and he recalls the sound of your pitiful sobs as he bent you to his will, the memory leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. Except it wasn’t him, not really, and he’s oddly comforted by this fact. Besides, he gave you his word; the least he can do is see you to Fontaine. He’ll simply have to tolerate your presence until then.  

He steps forward.  

You take a step back, and he chuckles despite himself.  

You’re so insufferably human.  

“I believe I have something that belongs to you.” He reaches into his coat pocket, procuring your Vision from within. “A peace offering of sorts, perhaps?”  

Your eyes brighten, flitting between him and the Vision resting in his hand. Slowly, you reach out, the pendant gleaming as your fingers caress its surface. Even beneath his gloves he can feel the warmth radiating off it, and the way you smile softly in return, your gaze lingering on him longer than you ever dared, is much preferable to what he remembers. He barely registers your mumbled words of thanks, preoccupied with the drop of your shoulders as the tension eases from your muscles, and how you linger in his presence instead of pulling away.  

The light of your Vision emphasizes the dark circles under your eyes; your cheeks are windburned and lips cracked and bloody. The smile on your face looks out of place when your expression is otherwise solemn—haunted—betraying your emotions. You haven’t complained thus far or requested his assistance, picking up the slack with a determination that surprised him as you trudged through the ice and snow and managed to keep pace with him. It’s a miracle you survived experimentation. Your files painted a different picture, one of a pitiful and broken test subject to be neutralized .  

Has luck shone down upon you or is there more to you than meets the eye? Perhaps he can put that theory to the test.  

“Sleep.” It’s not a request but a demand, and you don’t argue. “Doctor’s orders.”  

With a heavy sigh you drop into bed; all too eager it seems. A couple minutes pass and your breathing evens out as you drift off to sleep, your Vision clutched to your chest. Beneath the blankets, you shiver, your breath fanning out in front of you with each rise and fall of your chest. What a shame it would be to have you succumb to the cold so soon. You’re far more entertaining alive. For the moment, at least.

He drapes his coat over you, and you instinctively snuggle into its warmth.  

You need it more than he does.  

The floorboards creak underfoot as he paces back and forth. His mind races, his thoughts louder in the quiet, and he growls in frustration. He’s never felt so restless, his hands itching to move, to create, to turn his ideas into a reality. Even a piece of paper and pen would do—he has neither. In Fontaine he’ll have access to all that more, but the desire that burns within him is both great and painful, threatening to consume him in his entirety.  

Your snores break the silence, and he glowers in your direction. The sound aggravates his already frayed nerves, and so he counts them to alleviate some of the pressure.  

It’s going to be a long night.  

A very long night, indeed.

#genshin impact #dottore #noelle writes

[aloesarchives]

Kengan Omega Thoughts

I finally caught up with Kengan Omega now and I... Um, What?

*Spoilers for the lastest chapter!*

I know I shouldn't be rooting for him because he's supposed to be a villain but for all things under the fucking sun he's hot. Look at him, he's pretty for being over like a hundred years old or some thing like that. Fucking aging like mf wine, jesus christ.

Mukaku dying is good because while he did care to some extent, he was overall terrible person. It's funny how he could've done something if he actually never gave up when dark Niko defected to the worm if he still trained our Niko and try to stop the worm. But his flaw of giving up when he knew he lost probably got him to where he was. Plus his motives to kill and get rid of the worm wasn't for virtue or the greater good, it was to get revenge on the connector for murdering his clan which resulted in him having people die because he instigated them.

It sort of falls under the theme of conviction, tenacity, and motive that Kengan has. People with strong convictions and wholeheartedly believing in their motives to fight gives them power and strength in matches and training.

Just something I noticed when reading the "save Ryuki from the inside" arc in the manga. (which I left of from)

If this chapter came out early 2022 or 3 years ago, I would be frothing at the mouth right now seeing Joji and Waka interact. I'm happy that it's canon that the two of them actually know each other. Dude, even Waka knows Joji is a troublemaker, lol. Though I'm out of my Joji and Wakatsuki phase, I still love them dearly. Especially Joji, the man is funny, empty-headed, nonchalant. I personally want to thank Sandrovich for including Joji more in Omega and making him as comic relief. He so himbo-coded, I love it.

Ugh, I love them so much! They have come a long way since the beginning of Omega. I'm so happy for them. Ohma, Ryuki, and Koga, nice development and growth.

I'm sorry, but this fucking panel had me cackling. I know it's meant to be serious and all but it reminds me all too much of this picture below:

Dude, you know it's serious when four of the most powerful people are in an absolute state of shock. The Worm and the Death Dealers don't play around. But I kinda wish they didn't make Shen be this over powered because we don't know who's gonna beat him. I mean, they already stated that Lolong, Agito, nor Raian could defeat him. Hell, we don't know what happened to Ohma since he witness that even the fangs of Metsudo are no match for him. I mean, it'll probably go down to more of Koga fighting him if anything but he'll get his butt handed to him. I wouldn't be surprised if Ryuki fights Shen because it's hinted that there are more then one connector since Mukaku put two and two after realizing that Ohma looked more like Ryuki then with Shen. I think it would be fun to hear that Ohma is a clone of Ryuki and Ryuki is a connector but was sealed away in one of those tube thingys in like the movies. That could explain why he doesn't remember much of his past besides training with Mukaku unlike Ohma who was remembers being a child in the inside.

So we know that Ohma is definitely a clone. Unsure if he's a clone of Ryuki and unsure if Ryuki is a connector himself. I guess we'll wait and see because it seems like the Omega is getting close to the end, like 75% done.

Nogi really is playing with fire and a hydrogen bomb. I understand and like his spirit. But Idemitsu makes a good point about all of this. I also liked how his reaction of shock is different from Yamashita, Nogi, and Katahara. Obviously it's shock but more of like "What the fuck? What the hell just happened?" versus the three's reaction being "Oh my fucking God, how did this fucking happened? What are we up against?" Idemitsu was aware of the worm and of its existence but only recently interacted with them. Whereas Nogi and Yamashita know what they are up against and how dangerous they are to the entire world. Katahara, on top of the two, has even experienced the Worm and even seen their atrocities as he had came across a Gu ritual where he ended up meeting Agito as he was the only survivor.

I just wanna see how this all goes down and what will happen to Ohma and Ryuki.

#kengan omega #kengan ashura #wakatsuki takeshi #tokita ohma #ryuki gaoh #koga narushima #Shen Wulong #kengan thoughts

[myfairkatiecat]

for the ask game: feelings are fatal by mxmtoon and kotlc

Did you really just casually introduce me to the most Keefe Sencen coded song of all time??

“I’m happy for you, I’m smiling for you” <- Keefe is the comic relief and he does it on purpose. If he’s silly and funny than the mood can lighten (for everyone else. but not for him. not really)

“I'm always sad and I'm always lonely / But I can't tell you that I'm breaking slowly” <- ok so there’s probably a number of kotlc characters this could apply to since none of them are doing great (get them therapy oh my gosh) but currently I’m thinking about Keefe and…??? This is just??? He doesn’t want to be super up front about how much things hurt him? When Sophie first saw his childhood memories he was APOLOGIZING for them as if HE did something wrong by letting her see his traumatic memories. And is he breaking slowly? well. Let me ask you this. If book 9 Keefe met book 1 Keefe, how much would they recognize each other? (how much would they understand deeply about each other, and how much would they be far removed from understanding each other?)

“And I want to be able to open up, but / My feelings are fatal” <- this is the boy who said he didn’t matter. The boy who said he didn’t CARE if Elysian could help him—he wanted it destroyed if it meant stopping his mother. He tries not to even care about himself and it’s HEARTBREAKING.

“But opening up means trusting others / And that's just too much, I don't want to bother” <- agdkfhakdhs no comment

“I know it's not healthy, but you won't hear a peep” <- let no one ever say keefe’s coping mechanisms are healthy, even a Keefe fan like me. And… I think Keefe knows it, too—but he doesn’t have any better ideas and he’s comfortable in the cycle that’s slowly spiraling. (He doesn’t realize how badly he’s breaking because it’s been happening to slowly.)

This??? Is??? Keefe’s depressed side??? AS A SONG.

I want Keefe to be okay 😭 I would even settle for him going back to the level of Not Okay that he was in book one. And I’d like to kill Gisela if possible

But anyway, idk what you were expecting me to do with this song but it’s a Keefe song now, have a good day

Thanks for the ask!!

#kotlc #keeper of the lost cities #keefe sencen #ask game

[transmutationisms]

i think that greg was always meant to remain a somewhat callous and opportunistic, but ultimately insipid figure within the narrative - just because it contrasts so beautifully and effectively with the nuanced hell-funnel of psychological damage that is present in the siblings.

& the dynamic between tom and greg was always interesting and fun to watch for sure. in s3 we got to see new facets to tom as a character and thus his relationships became a more prominent factor. so of course greg became more intriguing as a character within that context. a lot of this probably also has to do with the actors’ performances and chemistry (no fucking roses for n*c braun though) - i reckon it made people project a lot of depth onto greg that i don’t believe was necessarily there at all.

this last season - with its shortened time frame, new narrative structure and deserved focus on the sibling - doesn’t really provide enough opportunity for greg to be sketched out more clearly. choices had to be made by the writers in regards to character exploration and i think that, ultimately, greg was an easy “sacrifice” to make.

i could, of course, be completely wrong in this. hell, the last four episodes might zone in on him for some strange reason, but just going off of my general opinions on the character, this is what i think might’ve happened. would love to know your thoughts on this:)

honestly.... here's the problem with greg. the gregtastrophe. if you wrote down all of greg's biographical details on a piece of paper, you would have the skeleton of what could have been fleshed out into an interesting character. like, it's there. but pretty early in the show, the writers decided they were not interested in doing that. and honestly, it's not like this show lacks for psychological depth in its main cast, so really, who cares? the issue is that greg for some fucking reason (comic relief) has always had way more screentime than his half-baked writing needs or deserves. like, shit or get off the pot, you know?

anyway, i agree with your gregnosis: we are not gonna get anything more interesting from him in the last four episodes. obviously his relationship with tom depends on tom's overall happiness, place in the company, and relationship with shiv, so i won't pretend to be able to predict where that's going. but like, greg exists for tom to objectify and chuck water bottles at. he is simply not written with enough care to be interesting beyond that. truly i am sorry to all those whose high gregspectations were dashed upon the rocks of four seasons of sitcom-calibre writing :'(

#i did feel sympathy for him when he had psychosomatic sand mites and no one cared that he was uncomfortable in his body #that was my greg highlight honestly

[rmbunnie]

Watched GOTG3 on friday! Here are some of my personal thoughts (spoilers obvs):

- I really liked it, first of all. To be honest, Rocket is my fave of the group alongside Nebula. I just think they’re neat, and I like characters that cause drama. If there’s no personality traits that are a little abrasive and offputting, then i’m not saying that’s a flaw, but perhaps i am saying its a bit of a missed opportunity. This is probably one of the reasons I am still interested in GOTG when most of the mcu is a bit worn out to me, there’s this neat focus on why they’re acting the way they are and letting their reasoning steer the story to a good extent rather than using it like an add-on (especially if the way they’re acting is flat out dickish,) and I think that’s a fun approach. All this to say, Rocket is one of my faves, and so a movie largely focused around his character is pretty interesting to me by default.

- The hallway fight was great. Loved it no notes a plus.

- I really liked the tardigrade suits on the tech planet-meteor-lab thing! They looked weird and offputting, don’t get me wrong, but space suits that are visually inspired by the creature that can naturally survive the void of space, boiling temperatures, and so much else are REALLY well-suited (haha) to the organic planet founded by the man who uses existing creatures as the bases of his "creations.” I can absolutely picture the High Evolutionary learning about a tardigrade and being like “hell yeah i just came up with a GREAT and original idea”

- I also liked the organic planet. Very cool the meat was so gross and the eye motif was fun.

- I have mixed thoughts on Adam Warlock, but mainly positive. I think that with the amount of things that were happening in the movie some of the scenes that were necessary for his development made the runtime drag a little and lose some momentum, but I’d rather have them than not have them. He was funny, and the creation of Adam posing at the end was both fun, cool to look at, and kinda something to think about, seeing as he was the one taking the place of god, but he is also the one named Adam. Maybe the idea there was that the first good act he does is the birth of his own humanity, as in existence as a person or as anything more than a passive invention? Or maybe they just thought it would be fun haha. Regardless, the idea of the divine being the one who can gain something through contact with the human is a sentiment that fits in the movie about the dude who plays god via animal cruelty but lacks what his "lesser” creations have and can never get it due to his failure to recognize their personhood idk.

-The ending is how it should have been imo. I know it’s so so sad to see a found family leave each other and it bums us out, and I am bummed out best believe but particularly in the case of Peter, Drax, and Mantis, it seems like what the movie was going for (if you’re taking the latter two’s writing as anything past comic relief which, like, of course I am) is that being in the Guardians was keeping them from evolving into the people that they were meant to grow into, and stunting their potential. Again, very relevant with the High Evolutionary, evolving people against their will isn’t right but remaining frozen in time isn’t natural. It was nice to see them get unstuck.

- Speaking of evolution and the characters, Gamora seemed like she had a little divergent character evolution thing going on, with 2014 as her sorta common ancestor. The ravagers seemed a little out of nowhere but not the the extent that it was unbelievable. “I bet we were fun” was really sweet. It’s nice to see her gain some of the things that she had before the time travel death bullshit personality-wise, the idea that she would always end up kinder and happier when she was free of Thanos (who i hate btw, not even as a character although that too, there was just NOTHING interesting done with him the whole goddamn franchise) than when she was with him is not something it takes a genius to figure out, but it’s still good to see. It’s also worth considering that original Gamora had to choose to be free of Thanos everyday and work with the consequences of his actions while 2014 Gamora was brought into a world where Thanos was gone regardless of her feelings or actions. This is kinda explored in the movie, and neither Gamora is bad, but I feel like its very important characterization-wise to understand that she didn’t fight to leave and struggle in doing so the same way original Gamora did, and so their worldviews are different, too, not only their experiences. To original Gamora the Guardians were fundamental to her indepence, without Peter she wouldn’t have gotten the orb so easily and without Rocket and Groot she might not have survived the Kyln. To 2014 Gamora, Thanos is out of the way and now these other people are kinda just here.

- Gamora dying in Infinity War or Endgame or whichever it fucking was was bullshit and i won’t debate on that but it is funny to see the directors of the mcu doing the exact same thing comic writers have been doing forever coordination-wise. Trying to work with the absolute trash that’s going on in the concurrently-running title is a comic struggle that transcends medium. GOTG did pretty well with it.

- I loved the High Evolutionary! Of course, not as a person, he’s the worst, but he was consistently really interesting to watch and his actor did a really really good job with him! The religious-type traits were really interesting, and specifically his bit with the opera song and music and how he valued literature and art was really interesting and not to be too jojo in marvel but it kinda gave me Dio or Pucci vibes. That’s the type of weirdass tangent one of them would say (specifically their convos with each other or the Pucci Hallelujah moment.) Everyone has already said more than i could say about his weird evolution-genetics shit but it remains weird. 

- “There is no god, thats why i stepped in!!1!” and the bit wheres he’s scrambling to the cage where Rocket is to find out how he knew the filtration system thing were two particular highlights of his character for me. He is messy and emotional and all over the place, and he thinks he is perfection incarnate. His emotional outbursts add humor and are a big part of what makes him interesting and fun to watch, but he would ridicule them in any other being. This is proof that the High Evolutionary is a hypocrite with poor taste.

- Ayesha dead. She was a bitch but she slayed. she will be missed, for the comedy of those fucking gold lenses was a highlight of GOTG2 for me.

- Rocket is a creep. Rocket is a weirdo. What the hell is he doing here. The Radiohead singalong in the beginning was so fun. I loved it so much, genuinely. 

- Lylla, Teefs and Floor were. so much. Everyone says they’re sad, and of course they are, but the whole thing was offputting too. Not as in like “oh they’re so gross” the vibe was just horrifying and sorta nightmarish because it’s not like you think they’re gonna make it out, you see Rocket in GOTG the first and you know there’s absolutely nobody with him but Groot. The scream was, a lot, and very well voiced, I guess? It seems weird to say, it’s not like, oh wow cinema i loved the part where his friends died and he screamed as he watched them get shot in his face but i felt my stomach drop in that theater even though i fully knew it was coming so i guess what i’m saying is mission accomplished you did the thing the way the thing was meant to be and it gave me bone nausea.

- Also it has been pointed out before it is not original thought of mine but the cage death scream vs the dance party scream. I’m thinking about that. Similarly in the sense that i’ve seen it mentioned but I keep thinking about it, the Dog Days are Over was quite a choice, seeing the zune scroll to the most recent decade it has was, bittersweet, or cathartic i guess? They can finally just move through time, they get to be growing people again now. I love the Dog Days are Over. I love Florence.

- On the Lylla topic, everyone’s been saying this sad quote made them sad or that sad quote bummed them out but the thing that got me most was “We were right. The sky is beautiful, and it is forever.” in the final dream sequence. Idk why that one particularly got me like that, heaven and the sky as a pair is a pretty common concept, eternity is just hefty I guess. Compared to the cage though, I’m glad they get such a nice place to be.

- We got “vocabulistics” and now we have “emotionallistic problems.” In GOTG 1 I could give him the plausible deniability of smushing together “linguistics” and “vocabulary” but no, Rocket just likes putting “ballistics” inside words. As is his prerogative. 

- I like how weird and retro some of the sci-fi elements are. The movie isn’t just a rehashing of older sci-fi concepts of course, it implements the retro elements interestingly and makes them fresh, but mad scientist experiments and unnatural experiment beings in a slightly more horror/negative approach is like RETRO retro sci-fi, like heavy book Frankenstein original first-ever sci-fi, so it was interesting to see past sci-fi incorporated into story elements in addition to world aesthetics and soundtracks like we’ve already seen. It’s nothing new to say GOTG has a bit of a 70s vibe just as a franchise, which I absolutely adore, but particularly counter-earth has a kinda “wouldn’t it be fucked up if that happened” vibe to it that I think is really fun. We got meat planet. We got animal planet. Lets go. This is peak fiction.

- Speaking of GOTG being retro-esque this trilogy LOOOVES that fucking yellow slime. Every movie there is a prominent yellow slime feature, it’s the most consistent character in the mcu. Did they accidentally order too much on movie 1 and save the rest for later? It kills me. 

-Speaking of, it’s very funny to me that they end up living on Knowhere. Like in the grand scheme of things. They did well with it, they have lovely homes with nice tables and blankets and lamps and such but like. Imagine you break out of jail and you go to kill time at some shady weirdo planet because the guy who wants to buy your orb is there, and the guy who wants to buy your orb is also Spongebob. You call up the guy who killed your family while you’re there and he stabs you and throws you into the yellow goo to die. The weird guy you’re stuck with breaks down and gets in a fight with you and threatens to shoot you in the face after doing this weird venty monologue that you don’t get at all. This is all one night. Nine years pass and you’re besties and you live there. The goo vat you got thrown in is probably like two blocks away because the planet is kinda small. Idk it just doesn’t seem like that would give homey vibes to me but they made it work and i commend that!

- Overall it was a good movie. I definitely have some thoughts that I’m missing but the thing about situations like that is that I can’t remember them. I will be bummed that the trilogy has ended but things end and this is life. Oh well. It ended well.

- Oh one more thing but the High Evolutionary ultimately lacking creativity was really interesting. All he can ever do is use bits and pieces of things that already exist so he can’t ever achieve what he would consider true perfection, because he can’t appreciate anything that exists due to its inherent and unavoidable flawed nature, and since his “inventions” are based only on preexisting stuff the flaws aren’t going anywhere. When he does come up with something worthwhile he effectively discards it because he doesn’t understand what makes it special, he just knows that it has something that he doesn’t and he’ll destroy it and eventually ruin what was good about it in the first place in the pursuit of replication, so if he ever did achieve perfection he wouldn’t even be able to do anything with it. The one thing he makes that he values, the only thing he can think to do is copy it and ruin it. His mindset won’t allow ingenuity because his pursuit of something without flaws can only ever be informed of traits he’s already seen in flawed beings. He owes everything he ever did accomplish to the flawed. If he wants something perfect so bad he should have at least tried to start from scratch (it would have been a move of immense hubris but obviously he’s not above that) but he can’t, because not only is he uncreative but like Rocket points out, he doesn’t even want perfection, he just hates everything the way it is. 

#i've been gone for months but i am BACK with the unwarranted scifi movie longposting #long post #gotg #gotg v3 #gotg volume 3 spoilers #rocket #rocket raccoon #peter quill #gamora #high evolutionary #i liked the little moments with them just going about life. Rocket tests out his gravity boots and listens to Radiohead. They have apartment #It's like american gap moe

[teamdilf]

for the wip ask game i’d love to hear about your DA/BG3 Crossover!

Ooh, so the crossover takes place many years post Dragon Age: Inquisition, following my post-canon longfic. Iris Lavellan, Solas and Dorian are in the Deep Roads deactivating eluvians and blow up the eluvian that Petra and Astarion just so happened to wander through while they were exploring after dismantling a vampire coven. Trapped in the Deep Roads, Petra and Astarion reluctantly ally with Iris and Solas (and find Dorian to be absolutely delightful and perfect in every way), and spend a lot of time bickering with Solas. Iris, who is nearing a nervous breakdown, on account of all she's been through over the last decade, does not get along with Petra, often taking her frustration out on the woman, leading to further tension.

This was meant to be a comedy in my head, but it turns out Iris is dealing with a lot, and a heavier drama with some comic relief was more the speed of the story I was looking to tell!

A snippet:

“I have no expectations of being remembered with anything resembling fondness, and have grown used to the venom spewed my way," Solas says.

“How it must sting at your pride to be so thoroughly loathed by both the people of the world you broke and the people of the contemporary world that you broke again.” 

Probably not a polite thing to say, but [Petra] is hardly going to treat this man with kid gloves, given all he’s accomplished. 

Solas says nothing, turning his attention over to Astarion. “You are resilient, having spent lifetimes bathed in pain and blood. You break the chains of your kin, yet do so in search of wealth. For one who survived enslavement, you would think you would be more eager to help.”

She grits her teeth, but allows Astarion to take the lead in his own defence. “Haven’t spent much time around vampires, have you? Because if you had, you’d know not to turn your back on one - and that my generosity only extends so far.” 

“You have an opportunity to make a difference.”

“And I do: by ruthlessly slaughtering vampire lords and knaves as a bounty hunter.”

“Killing should not be celebrated.” 

Astarion laughs at this. “But it’s so much fun, darling.” 

“Those you kill were real people, with lives and loves. Even if their deaths were well-deserved, they are unfortunate.” 

“Funny, to be lectured about killing from a man who destroyed the world - twice,” she mumbles under her breath. 

“You know, I do believe the position of ‘arrogant magic nerd’ has been filled in my life and truly, I do not care what you think of me,” Astarion retorts. “Also, all that,” he gestures up and down at Solas, “and all you do with it is brood and put up fancy magical curtains? What a waste of power.” 

“You speak like an oppressor when you were the oppressed. If you had some compassion…” 

Now, Astarion’s eyes grow cold and he turns, stepping towards the man, sneering at him. “Compassion is weakness. Compassion gets you and yours killed. I protect myself and I protect my family - everyone else can go hang as far as I’m concerned, unless they have something useful to offer me.” 

#ask games #Thank you! #j's fics #astarion x tav #astarion x oc #Solavellan #solavellan fanfic #Astarion fanfic #astarion fic #astarion x female tav #BG3/Dragon Age Crossover

[darkfire359]

Thoughts on e8-e10 of The Terror

(The final entry in my posting saga)

I went in expecting expecting literally everyone to die on this "doomed" expedition. So in that sense, Crozier and Silna surviving meant that things weren't as bad as they could have been. But also... holy shit, Jopson's death was heartbreaking. The fact that he didn't know what happened to Crozier and so he thought he'd been abandoned by his captain was so incredibly tragic. And undeserved! Like I'd argue that Jopson probably dies in a worse way than basically anyone else in the series (maaaaybe not Sir John, but Sir John also got some karmic retribution for disrespecting Silna's dad and for putting everyone's lives at risk). So WHY did Johnson have to die alone, in pain, and thinking he'd been left behind by the man he cared about most? I am so upset by this.

Thoughts on some other deaths:

Goodsir's was not as sad for me when it happened—he at least got to kind of choose how it happened, and it seemed like he'd at least accomplish saving Crozier. Ultimately it seemed like it didn't do that much though, and Silna's reaction to seeing his body was also heartbreaking.

Fitzjames's was sad, but in a more heartwarming way? At least he got to die with someone he cared about next to him. I definitely understand people shipping Crozier/Fitzjames now.

Gibson's death I think I had spoiled a while ago, so my main takeaway was that it was less gay than I expected. Like, it was still reasonably gay, but I expected it to be very gay. The thing that gets me is that I'm not sure whether or not Hickey did it out of love (Goodsir had just explained to Gibson that he was going to die from illness eventually but that he would suffer PAINFULLY first) or pragmatism, because Hickey wasn't in the tent when Goodsir gave the diagnosis. Did he overhear it and want to keep Gibson from suffering? Or was it actually just that Goodsir said that Gibson couldn't haul? Characters having already canonically fucked does NOT stop me from wanting to analyze the homoeroticism of their subsequent scenes.

I feel like the Crozier/Fitzjames death scene and the Hickey/Gibson one were explicit parallels of each other, given that Crozier also mercy killed Fitzjames (massaging the poison down his throat) and Fitzjames tried to get Crozier to eat him. TBH I kind of feel like Crozier should have indeed done so—given that Team Hickey ended up finding Fitzjames's body anyway, it's likely that he got eaten regardless. Surely one wouldn't want other men to be the ones to eat their boyfriend, right? (Relatedly, Fitzjames saying "Use my body!" also sent my mind in directions away from the seriousness of the scene.)

Speaking of scenes where someone sadly and homoerotically holds their BF, the Bridgens/Peglar stuff was also sad and sweet. Probably if I rewatch the series and actually pay attention to them more earlier, it would be even more so.

Now I'm sad about Jopson's death again because he was all alone and abandoned. :'(

Also it's sad that Little died without ever being able to tell Crozier that he TRIED to rescue him. I initially thought that Crozier legitly wanted the men to go south, so the fact that he'd been misleading Team Hickey and had actually been counting on Little to rescue him was tragic.

Blanky’s death seemed like the happiest—he got to finally discover the Northwest Passage, while wearing his WTF fork outfit. Good for him, that badass deserved something cool.

My friend that I was watching with hates Hickey now and so was happy when he died. I was fully expecting Hickey's crazy murder schemes to come up at some point and so my opinion on Hickey didn't change that much. I do think it would have felt weird for the plot to *not* have Hickey die though.

Speaking of Hickey, some obligatory Hickeyposting:

I love how he somehow manages to be comic relief in addition to being the primary villain. I laughed my ass off at the reveal that he murdered a guy and stole his identity completely unnecessarily, out of a mistaken impression he'd get to summer in the Caribbean. Also the scene where he started singing while all of his men were panicking about the Tuunbaq was black comedy hilarious.

Way before this episode, I saw some shots of him with a noose around his neck. I assumed I'd been spoiled for his death scene. Then I saw those shots tagged as being from e8, and I figured that I probably hadn't been. I was correct! (Later I got spoiled on the real death.)

Crazy as he is, I feel like he had to have been like, "Wow, um, okay," when Crozier's approach to cannibalism was to cut off and eat Goodsir's raw, calloused, foot skin.

I didn't initially appreciate how TINY he is. There was a scene where he was standing in between Gibson and someone else and he was just soooo much shorter than both of them. So brave of the creators to canonically make him a top.

I expected him to kill more people. I think Gibson might have even been the only person he *directly* murdered in these three episodes? He definitely caused quite a lot of trouble though.

I think I got trolled into thinking that the Tunbaaq would die from choking on Hickey's evil evil soul, rather than choking on a literal chain. Whoops.

I was surprised that Hickey didn't bring up more audience-compelling points during his hanging speech. Or maybe I was surprised that Crozier was as straightforwardly good as he turned out to be? I think it might've been cool if Hickey had been able to call out Crozier on real flaws, rather than mistakenly interpreting his plan to resign and lead a team south as something selfish.

#the terror amc #the terror #cornelius hickey #thomas jopson #francis crozier #james fitzjames #billy gibson #harry goodsir #lady silence #edward little #thomas blanky

[otakween]

Cyborg 009 BGOOParts Delete (2020) - Volume 3

This manga is clearly meant to be binged and not read extremely slowly like I've been doing, so I'll try to read more at a time to do things properly. I'm still really frustrated that this is such a rehash of tired material. It might be acceptable if this was a reboot, but it's supposed to be more like a sequel/continuation so...

Ch. 15

The monologuing continues! Apollon and Joe talk about their respective squads, what makes them similar and different. Joe emphasizes the fact that the numbers cyborgs resent being made and plan to eradicate all of Black Ghost's cyborgs from the face of the Earth.

Helena asks Francoise to help her stop the fighting, but Francoise says that she can't because she doesn't want to abort the mission. Helena knocks Francoise out and turns into her dark, Artemis form, complete with creepy looking wings jutting out of her cyborg spine. They drew her all sensual this chapter which made me kinda uncomfortable lol.

007, 002, and 006 fight the lesser Mythos cyborgs in the background. They're not given much to do and it's hard to care about their part of the story.

Ch. 16

This chapter was straight up incomprehensible for me. Not only do they shout out some new attack name every two seconds, but half of them aren't even in Japanese or English. Also, a lot of the characters use old timey Japanese. At this point I'm just hear to admire the art.

Artemis' body is now the Dolphin apparently. What is this Arpeggio of Blue Steel??

At least 005 and 008 got some screentime this chapter. Every time 008 does stuff outside of the water I'm like "he's just a dude" lol. The Aquaman conundrum...

Ch. 17

Geronimo's battle wraps up with the Minotaur dude. DAMN that guy was annoying. I think he said "The Dark Labyrinth" about 50 million times. I was so pissed off having to read it over and over lol. Like...shut up already (thankfully, he did).

I really love how Pyunma has been drawn by this artist. He's come a long way. He acknowledged how limited he is outside of the water in this chapter, which I appreciated. Chang comes to his aid.

Ch. 18

Apollon monologues himself to death lol. The dialogue is sooo bad in this manga. They keep repeating the same phrases ad nauseum and it feels cheesy for them to be ranting so much during a battle. Just have them fight in silence and monologue after or something.

In addition to the dialogue being cringey, the action isn't really good either. The Mythos cyborgs keep dying and I keep thinking "wait...how'd they die??" It's not drawn clearly at all. Apollon gets shot up and then set on fire somehow, but they didn't draw Joe doing any of that so I'm like ???

Ch. 19

Okay, Hippo Man making 007 melt was pretty disturbing body horror, I gotta say. 004 then easily takes him out in a pretty boring battle. Hippo man went on and on about his "true name" and they made "kaba/baka" puns. Hey Cyborg 009, aren't comic relief characters supposed to be...funny?

Artemis is pissed at Joe for killing Apollon, but what did she think was gonna happen? This is such a blah retread.

Ch. 20

Lion dude turns into Heracles (which looks like a guy wearing a lion fur and wielding clubs). The cyborgs all gather for their final battle (aside from Artemis probably)

Who was the hairy dude in the beginning? I'm sure I'm just supposed to know who is his but I forgot lol. It's so hard to follow this manga when no one's documented it on the 009 wiki yet boohoo

Joe looked pretty badass showing up at the end there ngl (plus the shippers probably like to see him carrying 002 like that)

Ch. 21

Okay, this last bit was interesting (finally). They talked about how the numbers cyborgs have already defeated Black Ghost and are now just cleaning up their ooparts. Heracles disagrees and says that the Mythos cyborgs ARE Black Ghost because they're following through on their mission.

I had to remind myself what ooparts are. It stands for "Out of Place" parts. It's supposedly an American term, but I've never heard of it. It's related to cryptozoology and refers to anachronistic artifacts. I guess the Mythos cyborgs kinda fit that, but instead of being new stuff in olden times, they're old stuff in modern times? IDK. I wonder if OOParts is a well known concept in Japan or just this mangaka's hobby?

GDI Helen showing up at the last second to resurrect everyone is cheating >:/ now this arc will never end!

I like learning random stuff from manga. Heracles kept bringing up the Nemean lion so I looked it up and basically it's a lion whose fur was impervious to weapons. Never heard of that myth before! With the added context I appreciated Heracles' design more.

The mangaka's fanart sketches at the end were really charming, I liked their little self portrait too (they didn't need to draw 008's OG design though -cringe-)

#cyborg 009 bgooparts delete #cyborg 009 #manga

[starry-blue-echoes]

AU Idea:

Koichi Hirose's Stand is a human soul reborn, just like in Joestar Platinum, only this time it's... Koichi Hirose. As in, a copy of Koichi from when he was shot with the Stand Arrow hatches from the egg as Echoes ACT 1 and proceeds to flip the fuck out.

It's only when Rohan writes "Echoes can communicate effectively with famed comic artist Kishibe Rohan" with Heaven's Door during their first encounter that Echoes!Koichi is able to finally articulate his situation to someone. Echoes temporarily betrays his user out of desperation and becomes Rohan's willing accomplice in picking apart Koichi's life to find a way to extract this "imposter."

Of course, both Echoes and Koichi are equally real, but neither of them recognize that yet.

(So, a bizarro Hirose Twins crossed with Echoes Act 4 & JonaPlat with a dash of Hidden in Plain Sight.)

OOOOOOOOOOOO YESSSSSSSSS

hey....... would you mind if I just. Made this the Hirose Twins AU instead. Because that AU was really going nowhere and the name works so much better for this one so-

And oh my god I’m loving this so much tho

Just. Echoes hatches and has a moment of What The Actual F U C K because that is very clearly his body and he’s not inside of it. The fight with Kobayashi has mostly the same end result because Echoes is still very protective of his family, but that’s when things start to get interesting

For one, Echoes is going to be in a weird spot of not wanting to listen to Koichi but also not wanting “his” body and friends to get hurt. He’s also going to want to be out constantly, and he’s probably going to be hanging around Josuke and Okuyasu as much as he can but would openly scorn Koichi. He’s not overtly cruel, but Koichi gets the message that Echoes doesn't like him loud and clear and would probably give his Stand as much space and freedom as he can

And honestly? This might make Echoes even more angry. That this imposter isn’t mean or cruel or even unpleasant. That he isn’t trying to destroy his life but instead perfectly replacing him so no one will notice he’s even gone, doing everything the exact way he would and saying everything he would say. It’s confusing and he hates it, but there’s nothing he can do. As for Koichi......it’s a little disheartening, to be honest. That what is essentially his own soul is rejecting him like this

The thing with Rohan is going to be inane, I can already tell. Rohan is going to be even more interested than canon, because not only do others exist with abilities like his but this one is sentient. It has thoughts and emotions and desires, and what could be better inspiration than the experiences of an entirely different species

And Echoes, while hesitant to resort to drastic measures, is getting desperate. It’s been months and he has exactly zero leads on how to take his body back, or even why this happened to begin with. He’s at the end of his rope, and Rohan is his best shot

And their findings are...... not what they expected

The realization that Koichi and Echoes are the same person hits the both of them hard. Koichi because he hadn’t realized his Stand was dealing with these emotions, and Echoes because this meant...... he was wrong. This entire time he was wrong and he put Koichi in danger like this. Koichi wasn’t an imposter, wasn’t a copy, it was just..... another him. It was a relief knowing he wasn’t a copy either, but it still left him scrambling on what to do next. I’d imagine the two would have a long talk after this. They would basically have to, after everything that was just revealed.

And what if with the help of Heaven’s Door, the two are able to swap back and forth. Maybe Rohan writes in something along the lines of “Koichi and Echoes will be able to swap places at will” or something. That way Echoes won’t be trapped as a Stand for the rest of their shared life. Maybe they swap every other day or something, and have a special subtle way for the two of them to distinguish themselves, like a bracelet or ring

I can also see them finally telling their mom and sister about everything, from Stands to their current predicament. After all, it would feel wrong to hide the fact that they had a second son and brother now, and the two of them trusted them. And it would definitely be a shock and difficult to believe, but to give these two at least a bit more happiness let’s make it so they accept it.

.....do you think that Koichi would be uncomfortable being called ‘Koichi’ when Echoes is called Echoes? After all, they know neither of them are copies, and the fact he gets to keep their “original” name while calling the other an echo feels wrong. Maybe around friends and other Stand Users in the know he could be called a name meaning something like mirror or reflection, just to make things “even” so to speak

#rhbdfbvd if you can't tell I'm ADORING this idea- #initial thoughts #hirose twins #jjba #jojo's bizarre adventure #diamond is unbreakable #diu #jjba part 4 #jjba koichi #koichi hirose #echoes #jjba rohan #rohan kishibe #heaven’s door #jjba josuke #josuke higashikata #jjba okuyasu #okuyasu nijimura #jjba kobayashi #tamami kobayashi #sb answers #glassesfreekjr

[sokkastyles]

Hi,

Wishing you a Happy New Year, hope you are doing well. Thank you for the response to my last query. I went and found @araeph's meta about Zuko's value system and that was an interesting read.

I know that Uncle Iroh played a huge role in Zuko's redemption and I was reading a post about how its possible that it took it time to come to terms with Ozai being abusive. This got me thinking that was he unlearning the FIre Nation mentality himself during book 1, so that he could help Zuko unlearn it too?

I would like your thoughts on this.

@outpastthemoat made a good post on this topic recently, and brings up what Iroh says about how Ozai "wouldn't banish you if he didn't care" when Zuko is despondent at the beginning of book two, which is the wrong thing to say. It's primarily there for comic relief, but that's a lot of what Iroh does in the early episodes, try to diffuse things with humor. Which isn't actually helping the situation, but he may have felt that that was all he could do.

Iroh is in a very difficult situation, not just because he knows he can't push Zuko too hard to see the truth about Ozai, or risk pushing him away, but because the specific situation they are in is one with an expectation that eventually Zuko would go back to the Fire Nation, and Iroh had to know that. Iroh had to be thinking about what would happen if Zuko actually found the Avatar. We know Iroh's heart is not in the mission, but he goes for Zuko. Which in the early days probably meant taking care of Zuko's wounds and trying to protect him from the dangers his new life would present. He wasn't thinking about the future then, only on what was immediately necessary to help Zuko. As Zuko got older and harder to control, accompanying Zuko would mean trying to protect Zuko from himself, and trying to protect the world from Zuko.

There's a certain amount of cognitive dissonance that is necessary to maintain in that kind of situation. Unlearning a toxic mentality that was ingrained in you from birth takes time, especially when you are the crown prince. Iroh was groomed from birth to inherit Sozin's legacy. By the time we see him at the beginning of the series, he does show derision at everything having to do with that legacy. He corrects people when they address him as general and is dismissive of those who talk about his military prowess. But he's still acting in a military position by being on the ship with Zuko.

Which I think is one reason Iroh is passive in book one. He's in a kind of limbo state where he's been letting Zuko go on a wild goose chase for three years. And that worked when Zuko was a thirteen year old with no hope of finding the Avatar who needed Iroh to keep him safe. But now Zuko is sixteen and Iroh needs to keep people safe from him.

And that's the thing about unlearning, too. It is a long process, especially when you are still very much enmeshed in the dysfunctional dynamic. And even if Iroh knows that Ozai and Azulon are wrong, he can't totally extricate himself from that dynamic when he also has to support Zuko, who is still very much tied to it.

Iroh talks in book one about his shame in looking away when Zuko was burned. I think that's a big part of what he had to unlearn, too. Not just recognizing that things were wrong, but working through the shame of it all. Which is so realistic because shame is a big part of why people don't leave abusive relationships or don't report them. Even if you aren't the target of the abuse, being close to that dynamic is its own trauma. That's also why people make excuses and justifications, because the truth is too painful to face.

We don't exactly know how Iroh came to accompany Zuko in his banishment, but even if it was Iroh's own decision, it still forces him to be complicit in what happened. He can't just take Zuko and go off the grid, he has to follow the terms of the banishment, or at least pretend to go along with the mission. And that's a trauma response, too, and sends the unintentional message to Zuko that Iroh agrees with his banishment.

In book one, Iroh does subtle things to hinder Zuko in capturing Aang, but he doesn't help Aang, either, and in "The Waterbending Scroll," he blames Katara for getting captured by Zuko because it interrupted his attempt to delay Zuko by having him chase after the lotus tile. Which also is the wrong thing to do, and it's evidence of how Iroh both is willing to make excuses for Zuko and can only act in passive ways. He must know on an intellectual level that having Zuko chase after a lost lotus tile that was never really lost won't work forever, but he doesn't know what else to do and is afraid of alienating Zuko, because his trauma has also tied him to Zuko. I've said before that Iroh could not just tell Zuko Ozai was abusive because he risks alienating him, and not only is that dangerous for Zuko, but you have to remember that Iroh already has trauma surrounding losing a child. As terrified as he is of Zuko going back to Ozai, he is even more terrified that he might lose Zuko altogether, so he doesn't do anything that might make Zuko turn against him, either, even if it isn't necessarily what's best for anyone.

I think Iroh's passivity is as much about unlearnings as it is a response to his own trauma and guilt, considering how his trauma with Lu Ten is so tied to his own actions and his own belief in the FN's imperialist agenda. I've said before that I think Iroh even before Lu Ten's death was someone who had already realized what his family was, what the FN was doing. But trauma, the trauma of growing up in the family he did, can make you rationalize things. The Iroh we see in "Zuko Alone" is one who appreciates the beauty of Ba Sing Se and the endurance of the Earth Kingdom people while still joking about burning it all to the ground.

Part of Iroh's journey, I think, was learning that he cannot be the exception to the rule and still be passive. There is no such thing as a good imperialist, and if he really wants to be the kind of person who helps the world rather than hurts it, if he really wants to help Zuko, he has to act, even if that means doing something that might hurt.

I think it's not until the North Pole that Iroh really decides to cut ties completely, and it's because of a combination of events. Iroh's own actions there in defense of Tui and La branded him a traitor. He could no longer be passive in the face of what the Fire Nation was doing to the world, in the face of Zhao attempting to destroy the moon, and he couldn't turn back once Ozai had named him a traitor and sent Azula to capture him and Zuko. So he does what I think he always wanted to do, takes Zuko to Ba Sing Se because it's the safest place they can go, and tries to make a new life there with Zuko.

Of course, the past still catches up with them there, and that's the point when Iroh knows he can be passive no longer. If he can't make Zuko see the truth, he has to act on his own.

#iroh #zuko #ozai #lu ten

[samd1o1]

A Short Review Of Knuckles; No Spoilers

Hello, I am a random Sonic fan that none of yall care about but I'm gonna write my opinions on the new Knuckles series anyway!

Just to start off, I liked it! It wasn't ground breaking by any means, but it wasn't meant to be. It's a fun little comedy.

Now the main complaint I've seen is that it was too focused on the humans and not Knuckles. And I can agree but also still enjoy the show! Pretty much no show has the main character for 100% of the screen time. So Knuckles not being in all scenes shouldn't surprise anyone. But I will say yes the humans had a lot of screen time, but that's pretty common in the movies.

The movies are obviously going for an esthetic from games like 06, Unleashed, and SA2. All of those games heavily feature humans. And this setting appeals greatly to both the kids and parents that take their kids to see the movie. I know that may not be what you want, but that's what you get. And honestly I think it's pretty smart. But even then we could stand to have some more anthro characters. Like wouldn't it have been cool if Rouge was working for GUN in the show? It would give Knuckles his usual counterpart while also setting her up for Sonic 3.

But alas we got random GUN agents. Who tbf were pretty funny. And then obviously there's Wade and his family. Wade was a good choice I think. He plays off Knuckles well. He's the comic relief to Knuckes more no bullshit attitude. And he teaches Knuckles to let loose a bit more; but more importantly he teaches Knuckles about family and home. Something he hasn't had in a long time. And I just think that's a really cute dynamic.

Did it feel more like Wade was the main character and Knuckles the secondary lead? Yes. Was it probably a budget issue? Also yes. So while I wish we got more Knuckles, it's realistic what happened.

All in all it was a nice, cute, little show. Just a bit of fun before the emotional and edgy fest that will be an SA2 adaptation in Sonic 3.

I just wanted to share that it's possible to like a show while also having a few criticisms. I just think it's better to be constructive about it. There's people on twitter saying they have a "gun to their head" because they hated the show, and I just don't think it's that serious. If you have some opinions on what the show could have done better, then write about it! Let the creatives who worked on it know what you liked, and what you didn't! It's the best way to be heard.

All in all a solid 7/10. Completely average goofy fun, but that isn't always a bad thing. Here's to hoping Sonic 3 delivers on what everyone wants!

#Not gonna spoil but yes I also like episode 4 #It's pretty funny #Knuckles #Knuckles The Echidna #Wade Whipple #Sonic The Hedgehog #Knuckles series #Sonic Movie

[after-witch]

Take a Look [Smiling Man (Small Spaces) x Reader]

Title: Take a Look [Smiling Man (Small Spaces) x Reader] 

Synopsis: You don’t speak up much in book club, ordinarily. But you’re just so damn fascinated by the Smiling Man that you can’t help yourself. It just happens that the object of your attention is sitting right across the room. 

Word count: 3173

notes: The smiling man is verbally mean, nothing else really

You don’t normally speak up much at book club. You certainly don’t offer your thoughts like this, in response to the open-ended questions that the moderator poses. But you genuinely loved the book, short and mysterious as it was--and you felt particularly drawn to the character being discussed right now: the Smiling Man.

So you speak.

“I think he must be very lonely.”

There’s an almost comical pause in the hum of the room, with only the clatter of pots and pans from the kitchen being heard before someone snorts, and the ice is broken with the return of the din. A few measured comments and chuckles are thrown in, good natured sighs aimed at your sentiment.

“Yeah, that sounds about right for you.”-- “Why am I not surprised?” --“Well, he’s got Jonathan and Caleb’s scarecrows for company, hasn’t he?”

But then, someone’s voice cuts through the amused, blurring conversations with a crystal clear tone--

“And what makes you think this smiling man would be lonely?”

The silence that follows is abrupt. The someone who spoke up is the newest addition to your reading group, Seth something-or-other, you can never remember last names. This is his first meeting, and he’s been fairly quiet, only introducing himself briefly and making a comment here or there on the story. Nothing memorable.

But now he has everyone’s attention. And so do you.

You feel your cheeks begin to heat as everyone’s eyes turn back towards you. A few people have scooted over, so that the stranger--Seth--can have a view of you as you answer. He’s watching you with a warm look, a polite smile playing on his lips.

“Um, well.” You take a moment to compose your thoughts. The thought had come out innately, really. You didn’t have time to create a hypothesis. It was just a feeling you got.

All eyes are on you for an answer, Seth’s most of all, so you clutch your copy of Small Spaces to your chest and begin to ramble.

“I guess, I was just thinking about some of the things Jonathan wrote. This smiling man--I suppose he must have another name?--seems old, very old. Perhaps he’s been around for hundreds of years.” You think on it. “More, even. Since forever? Since humankind was made?”

“What, like the devil?” someone asks.

You shake your head, and your teeth drag against your lower lip, a childish habit you never shook off. “No, not quite, thought you could definitely argue that there are similarities. Maybe more so to literary devils than the Biblical one, anyway.”

Your thoughts trail off, and you can tell the conversation is about to turn, which is half a relief, because you really don’t know how to explain your feeling--or if you want to explain it to a room full of people who’d probably rather move on.

But before the conversation can spin out, Seth speaks up.

“Go on,” he says, and it’s the strangest thing. You get the innate sense that he’s truly interested in what you have to say, but not in the same way everyone else in the room is. Seth feels… invested, and everyone else seems merely half-interested, lightly amused; there’s book club champagne on their lips and crackers with all sorts of cheeses in their stomachs, a potent combination when it comes to book club discussions.

You can’t remember the last time you felt like someone was really listening to what you had to say, and it feels nice.

“Well,” you continue, locking eyes with Seth before flicking your gaze towards the others. You don’t want to leave the group out, after all, in what is meant to be a group discussion. “If he is that old, he’s probably a--an otherworldly being set apart from others. I mean, I doubt there’s a… gaggle of smiling man, or whatever he’s called, that get together for lunch on Sundays.” Someone chuckles, and you hear more champagne being poured. “And what kind of life does he have, really?”

You find your arms pressing tighter around your copy of Small Spaces as you ponder the strange entity held within its pages. “He can bring someone back from the dead, but he’s not performing miracles for the benefit of others. He’s taking their souls, I think. Tricking them. It sounds like he’s surrounded by nothing but death and emptiness. Lost souls and hollowness and not much else.” You know you sound too serious, but you can’t help yourself. You’ve always had a penchant for tragic, albeit potentially awful, characters. You were a villain junkie, and this was no exception.

“I can’t see how anyone in that position wouldn’t be lonely.”

You return your gaze back to Seth as you finish, and the genuine interest in his expression sparks a silly, fluttering feeling in your chest. You blame the champagne--and his fair hair, and the striking color of his eyes.

“An interesting theory,” he says, and there’s a smile playing on his lips. “So you think if the--” his voice stumbles over the words, and you can hear mirth in his voice--”smiling man had a companion of some kind, he would behave differently? He wouldn’t have bargained with Jonathan--I say bargain, you see, because we see no evidence that Jonathan was tricked, he surely knew what he was getting into--for his precious soul if he had a friend or,” and his voice drops low, tinged with implications, “some other type of companion?”

The champagne is getting to your head. Because as Seth speaks, you somehow you feel absolutely pulled into his gravity, unwilling to lose even a single word of the conversation between the two of you. You want him to understand the feeling that came from somewhere within you, and you don’t really know why--you want him to understand you.

Your nails scrabble lightly on the worn back cover of the book as you try to force away the wobbly feeling in your stomach. “I… think so.”  

Your mind conjures up an image of the character from the book, but it’s all rather vague. There wasn’t much to go on, as the book was sparse on character details. That happens with older books, sometimes. So all you had to go on was Jonathan’s secondhand description of his long fingers and smile, and an otherworldly sense of foreboding that seemed to come with his appearance.

“I mean, it’s hard to say--” you laugh a little, feeling awkward. “It’s not like the author had the main character describe him much. I don’t know,” and you offer a prim smile of your own. “It’s just a gut feeling I have. It sounds dumb, and it’s not some great character analysis, but…”

You trail off, and most everyone else has returned to their own conversations in tones that grow louder as the seconds drone on.

Seth leans his hand on his chin and regards you with a thoughtful expression. “Oh, not dumb at all, I wouldn’t say that. Naive, maybe.”

He glances around at the group, and then jerks his chin slightly to the left. A silent look that says: Join me?

And you’re a bit tipsy from your drunks and more than flattered that this stranger (a handsome one, you’ll admit that--he’s got the most amazing dimples) wants to know more about your thoughts. So you glance around at your table companions, see that they’re not even paying attention, and you follow Seth away from the book club’s rented room and into the empty hall.

Even with the door shut, you can hear the din of the three dozen or so people inside talking, eating and laughing. But the muffled sound gets quieter as Seth walks down the hall, leading you into a little alcove near the restrooms, where two comfortable (if faded and worn) chairs have been set up. You slowly sit yourself down on the chairs, feeling a childish thrill bubble in your stomach at the thought of a private conversation with the man in front of you.

“I hope you don’t mind,” he says as he sits down. His voice is as smooth as butter. “I’d prefer a conversation where we can actually hear one another.”

“Oh, it’s fine.” You smile widely, then dial it back just a bit. You don’t want to seem over-eager, do you? You don’t know why you care so much about what this man thinks, but you do. “That’s the most I’ve spoken up at book club in ages, actually. Most of the books we read aren’t this interesting.”

Seth raises his eyebrows. “No? What a shame.” He leans forward, just a little, his hands resting gently on his jeans. “I’d love to know what you find most interesting about this one.”

“The smiling man,” you admit, without missing a beat. Seth’s smile widens and you can’t help but feel shy, grinning down at your lap for a moment. “I just really like antagonists, especially mysterious ones. There’s always more to them, you know?”

Seth doesn’t nod, but he doesn’t shake his head either. “And what more might there be to this one?”

“Well--” And you clarify, tapping the book cover with your fingers. “And I am just going off a gut feeling here, because obviously the book doesn’t say that much about him. I guess that’s what makes me so interested. I want to know more about what he does, and why he does it.”

Seth’s expression hardly changes as you speak, and there’s a little voice in your head that says you’re talking too much, rambling, taking over the conversation. But you get the feeling Seth doesn’t mind, unlike most people in your life. So you keep on going, the words spilling out, as they’ve been waiting on your lips ever since you finished the book for the first time… and reread it, and reread it, and reread it. So you tell Seth everything. You tell him about how you find the old world feeling of the Smiling Man fascinating. You tell him about how Jonathan’s primal recognition and fear of the Smiling Man gave you goosebumps. You tell him every little bit of information you’ve taken from the book, and everything that’s been concocted in your heads afterwards.

“Perhaps he doesn’t want to collect souls.” You muse, wrapping up your thoughts. “Perhaps he has to, like some kind of vampire. Maybe he needs a certain amount in order to continue living. A cycle. Maybe he even regrets it.”

You finish, and find yourself almost a little out of breath. The exhilaration from the entire scenario--being pulled out of the crowd by an attractive, quiet man; being listened to in such a patient way, no matter how rambling your thoughts--begins its slow descent as you wait to see what Seth might say.

It takes a few moments, but you finally see his expression shift. There’s--you’re not mistaken, you really do see it--the faintest touch of malice in his smile now. Have you offended him? How--and what did you say?

“You’ve misunderstood the character, my dear.” He rests his chin on his fingers in that old fashioned gesture again. “Quite a bit, yes, you really have. The smiling man enjoys what he does. He doesn’t regret.”

Your smile is a bit forced now. A bit on edge. You feel the slight prickle of goosebumps on your arm, and you don’t know why.

“You’re talking about him as if he’s real,” you respond, and there’s mirth, however light, in your tone.

Seth regards you with an expression that is somehow innately familiar and utterly new. Like something you remember from early infancy, but have since long forgotten.

It’s an uncomfortable feeling, and the thrill of being out here, alone, has just about completely vanished.

“Maybe… we should head back. I think they’re starting the final thoughts soon.”

You stand up, and he follows suit. But he doesn’t turn towards the way you came. Instead he simply watches you, and you find yourself unable to leave.

“You’re wrong on another point as well.”

Your smile is so tight now, completely lacking sincerity. “Oh?” You really want to leave.

“He’s not alone. There are quite a lot of souls to keep him company. Used souls of varying conditions, perhaps.” He seems to think for a moment, tilting his head slightly. “But even servants can make for amusing company. Especially when they’re fresh.”

“I think you’re taking this a bit too far, Seth.” It’s not just his words. It’s his face--his expression, so intense and piercing, and his smile that doesn’t seem to leave his face. Yet it has gone from charming and inviting to cold and calculating. It scares you.

Goosebumps have raced up both your arms by now. And is the room getting colder?

“Do you know what happened to Jonathan and Caleb after I took them?” he begins, and takes a single step towards you. You don’t move. “They worked. They stood in the rain and walked my domain at night. Oh, they hated to go far from that little farm house. Sometimes Jonathan stood at the bedroom window, watching his suffering little widow. How he wept for her. Well,” Seth chuckled, and it was not a nice sound. “How he would have wept, if scarecrows had the capacity.”

Seth takes another step towards you, and you do step backwards this time.

“And what about poor little Beth Webster? She died, as widows do, and now she’s a thorn in my side. Always moaning at me about giving back Jonathan, giving back Caleb.” He shakes the book in his hands, a frustrated gesture. “And it’s all because of her stupid copy, hanging around where I least want it.”

You can’t bring yourself to force a smile. Instead you offer him a sullen look, annoyance to cover up your growing unease, the heart-pumping fear that has your stomach sinking down to your boots. “Is this some kind of script? Or a joke? It’s not really funny.”

“I enjoy a good joke, dear, but you’ll know when I tell one.”

You can’t escape the chilly feeling in the air. You glance back towards the hall, and your mind does a double take. Outside, where there should have been the driveway and trees and cars and everything beyond it, was nothing but a solid wall of white mist. Thick. Cold.

When you turn back towards Seth, his eyes have gone soft again. Amused, almost.

“Are you saying you’re the smiling man?” The words sound ridiculous as they leave your lips, and you start to laugh, but at his expression your uncomfortable mirth dies immediately.

Because his smile. His smile is…

And you know. You know somehow. Deep inside you. His smile seems to tell you that he knows everything about you, that he’s older than you, older than this town, this country, than anything you might imagine.

And this blooming knowledge is like the strike of a shovel deep down in the dirt, hitting bedrock, pulling up a feeling you buried long ago. A feeling borne from your innermost self. A feeling that comes rushing at you now, covered in dirt and time.

You had this feeling once before--just once. As a child. You saw a ghost in the basement of your grandparent’s home, a dead old man with deep black eyes--oh, all the adults would later tsk and insist you were seeing things, and in time as you grew older, the memory warped into some childish hallucination for you as well. But now you remember it for what it was. A real, instant moment when you saw that the world was not always right-side-up; the world had things you didn’t understand, terrible and great. Things that went bump in the night. Like ghosts and monsters and…

The man standing in front of you was one of those things. And he must want something from you, like he wanted something from Jonathan, from Caleb, from who knows how many others.

You don’t want any of this to be happening, and a small part of your mind denies it, even though everything else is screaming the truth.

“You--you can’t. It’s a book. It’s not real.”

His tone is so soft and gentle, almost a coo, like you’re a lost little kid explaining to a grown-up that your mom was just-there-you-swear-it.

“I can. And it is a book… a real one, written by a real woman, now dead, who now hovers around, hoping to get a glimpse of her hay-stuffed husband. ”

There should be sounds from the room down the hall. But there is nothing. It’s as if you’re in an entirely different world. The cool air and the heavy feeling and the mist outside.

And his smile. His smile.

“What do you want with me?” Your voice is a whisper.

He laughs, and it’s not a nice laugh. “You? I want nothing from you.”

Your body feels like lead.

“Do you think I came to make a deal with you?”

“I--” You thought so, didn’t you?

He eyes you up and down, and you want to squirm away. It’s as if he’s looking into your soul, stripping away everything you are on the surface until there’s only the naked self underneath.

“What kind of deal would I ever make with you?” Your expression twists in confusion, in an almost bewildered hurt, and he chuckles softly. “Oh, there are things that you want. You want love and money and a pretty house. You want friends who call you first with big news and a dog as loyal as the one from your childhood and to feel validated by your boss at work.”  

All of those things, important things you cried and sweat and figuratively bled for, suddenly seem like nothing more than garbage at his feet. His voice is almost singsong as he continues. “All people want those petty little things, don’t they? Greedy, greedy… but ultimately so dull and ordinary.”

He regards you again, and you’re pinned by his smile. Like a butterfly on a board.

“No, there is nothing monumental in you. Nothing that I would bother to grant. Nothing you want is worth my time.”

Tears slip down your cheeks. You’re afraid. You’re afraid and confused and hurt, and there’s a wall of mist outside and someone otherworldly looming over you and the world is so much bigger than you realized and you are small and nothing in the face of it.

There’s a room full of people down the hall. You should shout. You should scream.

But you can’t. Fear has stolen your breath, and your mouth opens uselessly as Seth approaches you. It’s like something out of a film. He steps forward, and you step back, again and again until you’re pressed up against the wall with nowhere to go.

He looms over you, seeming bigger, taller than before.

And he doesn’t smile--but he grins. He grins until his mouth actually stretches from ear to ear, an impossibly deep grin that is taken straight from your nightmares. It’s an awful sight that burns itself into your memories immediately.

“Well? Do you still think I’m lonely? Do you still feel sorry for me?” The voice is Seth’s, steady and sweet, but the mouth that moves is a gaping cavern.

You’re trembling so hard that your body jerks and twitches. You stare into the terrifying face in front of you, barely comprehending what you’re seeing. Ghosts are in the basement and monsters are in the woods and the smiling man is real.

Your body is rooted to the spot in fear, but oh, your mind and your heart are free to flutter about. It’s your mind and your heart that push you to speak with the same strange desire to make Seth--the smiling man, your thoughts correct, he’s the smiling man--understand you. Even through the terror, even through your heart beating wildly in your chest.

Even if it might just make him angrier to know what you feel--still, you have to say it.

“Yes,” you whisper, quiet but brimming with fearful conviction. “Yes I do.”

Because he must be lonely. He must be so lonely, to do this and be this.

He laughs. It’s an awful sound. Old and low, a sound you imagine might be heard underneath the Earth. As he does, his mouth begins to shrink until it’s Seth’s mouth again. A charming mouth.

His smile is warm again. He’s still standing over you when he brings his fingers--two of them exactly the same length, you realize--up to your cheek and flicks away a tear that had trickled down.

“I must say. I’ve never met someone quite so naive. How interesting.” He glances at his fingers, as if he’s examining the remnants of the tear collected on them, and begins to back away. “Yes, how interesting,” he repeats.

And then he does the most curious thing: he bows. An old fashioned gesture that you’ve only seen in movies. It’s simultaneously charming and repulsive.

“Perhaps I’ll come to you again some day... if by some miracle, you ever want something worth my time.”

He turns, and slides his hands casually into his jeans as he simply walks down the long hallway leading to the double doors at the front of the building. Your legs feel stiff, and all you can do is turn your head and watch him walk away. As he does, the mist disappears. Not slowly, but in an instant, as if a switch has been turned off.

Your legs work again.

You begin to make your way back to the group, feeling like there’s been an impossible rift created between you and everyone you know.  The smiling man--whoever he is, whatever he is--is real. If the smiling man is real, there’s no telling what else might actually be lurking in the world. Angels and demons and monsters beyond comprehending. And that knowledge came in the guise of a smile that could soothe or hurt, terrify or calm.

You could throw the book out. You could throw it out right now and never think about the smiling man again. You could go about your ordinary life and take pleasure in all the things you took pleasure in before.

Or…

You hold the book tighter in your arms.

You could find something worth wishing for.

#smiling man #katherine arden #small spaces #reader x character #afterwitch writes #had to do some rewrites cause of what I've read so far in empty smiles #because the original thoughts of the reader ended up Uhhhhh being validated #and I don't want them to be entirely right so had to do some changes

[captnjacksparrow]

I noticed that when sasuke takes charge naruto always argues with him, but when naruto takes charge sasuke goes along with his plan. I can't believe naruto explained his reverse harem jutsu to sasuke and sasuke said okay I'll create an opening for you. He's always asking naruto about his plans and agreeing with him. Sasuke really makes so many exceptions for naruto. A question though: in episode 479 there were a lot of scenes that weren't in the manga like naruto studying to be a jounin and sasuke being detained... do you think these things actually happened in the manga?

Naruto don't mind following a plan laid by Kakashi or Shikamaru or Neji or even Kiba... But the moment Sasuke opens his mouth for anything, Naruto would argue Tooth and Nail with Sasuke XD XD. That's one of the USP of their dynamics. [[This goes for Sasuke too]].

As for those extra scenes in Episode 479..

This is what Kishimoto talked about Naruto's Journey from Genin to Hokage without becoming Jounin. If the Author himself says that Naruto was never meant to become Jounin, I don't know why the Anime made him do that... But Probably you could take that as a Comic Relief the Anime added in order to adapt a 18 page Manga Chapter into a 20 minute Episode.

As for Detaining Sasuke... Boy!! I never knew that scene triggered SNS fandom in the past and made many Sasuke leaning SNS fans to vehemently hate Naruto but ship SNS. All for a stupid filler scene... Anyways,

Look at this... Everyone in the Battlefield wants to kill and hack Obito into 1000 pieces. And they have very valid reason to. 

And yet Tsunade stops them as their Hokage and left Obito with Minato as a case to be sorted out between Team Minato. If Tsunade can show such an Empathy towards a guy like Obito.... Do you think Tsunade or Kakashi (His own Sensei along with a Strong pillar like Naruto) would let Sasuke to be tortured in a Prison?

Do you really think it would have happened that way like they had shown in the Anime???

“I suppose it’s true that my bounty is worth less than yours... According to the book... And both were much less than Orochimaru sama”

Here, Kabuto is casually saying that Sasuke is in the Bingo book and has a higher place than Kabuto... but less than Orochimaru. Even Tsunade forgave Orochimaru after he came to save her in the War Arc. 

Kabuto was keeping an Orphanage in the Gaiden and Well, Orochimaru.... You know what’s going on with him, Right? Do you think that they forgave all these shady villains.... But they abused Sasuke alone in the Prison????

None of the subtexts in the Manga indicates that he was tortured or abused. At the most, there might have been an Investigation where Naruto spoke on behalf of Sasuke in front of all the other Kages and he was forgiven. This is what I think had happened in the Manga.

#tsunade #orochimaru #sasuke #naruto #sasunaru #narusasu #kakashi