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the-littlest-goblin · 3 years

Note

ooooooooh for fic prompts, could i request: essek interacting with Frumpkin, specifically playing with him (so as to impress Caleb and earn his favor a bit), but our favorite hot boi most likely did not have pets growing up and is at a bit of a loss with what to do. (bonus: Caleb sees this and thinks it's incredibly endearing)

I think you got everything you wanted. ft. my personal 'here’s how Frumpkin can still win’ headcanon.

----

This was not how familiars were supposed to work.

Essek may not have summoned one before (he’d never really understood the use of an assistant with no opposable thumbs), but he had read enough about the spell to know that this was not how familiars were supposed to behave.

Maybe that was because Frumpkin didn’t technically count as a familiar anymore.

No one knew exactly what had happened, or why. Essek and Caleb had exchanged a number of theories on the matter, but so far the best explanation still went to Beau’s conclusion: “weird fey shit.”

After Aeor and the Somnovem, when they had all finally gotten a chance to breathe again, Caleb had done some sort of ritual to more permanently banish his familiar. Essek hadn’t gotten the full context at the time, but it had something to do with symbolic closure and moving on. The cat was already gone from the Material Plane at that point, but Caleb had wanted to remove the temptation to summon him again, and so devised a sort of reversal of the Find Familiar spell.

However, upon performing the anti-summoning ritual, the cat had appeared in the ritual circle as if Caleb had cast the spell as usual. Only instead of going to his master’s side, Frumpkin had sauntered away from Caleb with a swish of his tail and gone to sit directly at Essek’s feet.

“Hmm,” Caleb had muttered, the hint of a grin twitching at the corner of his mouth. “It looks like he has made a choice.”

Ever since, Caleb had been unable to banish Frumpkin, or communicate with him, or give him orders. He had seemingly lost his magical connection to, and mastery over, the cat—Frumpkin was no longer his familiar, as had been the intention. It was just that Frumpkin apparently liked the Material Plane better than the Feywild, and so refused to leave. And since Caleb had let him go, he chose a new wizard to keep him company. For the next several days they had spent recuperating and planning their next moves, Frumpkin stuck with Essek, never straying from his side for long.

But, crucially, he did not become Essek’s familiar, a lesson they had learned quickly enough. Essek didn’t even have Find Familiar in his spellbook. He couldn’t banish Frumpkin, he couldn’t communicate telepathically with him, and he certainly couldn’t give him orders.

So, Essek just had a pet cat now, one which happened to be fey in nature. Stranger things had happened—much, much stranger—so for Essek’s part, it had seemed easiest to just accept this development in stride. At times, he was even grateful for the cat’s presence.

But right now, he was very much not. At least familiars were obedient.

Essek winced against the sound of shattering glass—a sound which was becoming somewhat routine since taking up residence in these new, temporary lodgings with Frumpkin as his roommate.

Essek closed his eyes and took one deep breath before looking up from his notes to survey the damage. His gaze met Frumpkin’s round, amber eyes across the room, looking impossibly innocent where he sat primly on one of the tables which Essek had set up to house his research. His tail swished back and forth where it hung over the edge, acting like a flashing signal to point Essek’s attention down towards the starburst of broken glass glittering directly beneath him.

Mercifully, the beaker which Frumpkin had marked for termination had been holding a harmless and easily replaceable solvent, rather than any of the more valuable or dangerous liquids Essek had lying around in his provisional lab. His fingers curled protectively around the precious vial of liquid dunamis sitting next to him.

“Why?” He let the single syllable of the word stretch out into a long, bone-deep groan lasting several seconds. The question was aimed both at Frumpkin and at himself, and covered a variety of curiosities he had about the situation. Why did Frumpkin feel such a persistent desire to destroy Essek’s belongings? Why had he chosen to adhere himself to Essek in the first place, when he seemed to hold a deep disdain for everything Essek owned or did? Why was Essek incapable of learning the very simple lesson of locking the door to this makeshift lab? Why had he promised Caleb that he would take care of Frumpkin while the Mighty Nein dealt with the Assembly, instead of throwing the mangy beast out onto the streets of Port Dumali as soon as they had arrived at the safe house?

None of these were questions to which Essek was about to get any answers, so he tried another one.

“What do you want from me?”

Frumpkin blinked.

“You are still a fey being. You don’t need food or water, and as far as I understand, providing those two things are the pillars of caring for a pet. So, what else could you possibly need that requires my attention?”

Frumpkin flicked his ears.

Caleb had given Essek a brief overview of what to expect in terms of cat-care, but either he had chosen to leave out a lot of unsavory details, or decoupling from their arcane connection had put Frumpkin through a drastic personality change, because Essek had received no instructions about how to handle the kind of stalemate in which he currently found himself.

“You have my sincerest apologies, but unlike your previous master, I cannot read your thoughts, and your current methods of communication are lacking in clarity.”

Frumpkin’s tail began swishing faster. He broke eye contact with Essek to gaze intently at the row of jars lining the next table over. These were full of various concoctions, including some potentially dangerous acids, the results of Essek’s increasing boredom as he stayed hunkered down in his safe house day after day. He only ever went out for the duration of a Disguise Self to buy food or other necessary supplies; he was too noticeable to amble around the city for leisure, on the slim but ever-present risk that word of a strange drow in Port Dumali would reach the ears of Ikithon or his servants. Essek was under strict instructions to stay as hidden as possible until he got the all-clear from the Mighty Nein. With only the materials to continue his most basic experiments with dunamis, he was growing bored out of his mind.

Essek heaved another deep sigh before reluctantly abandoning his notes and gliding over to where Frumpkin had stationed himself. With a short wave of his hands, the spill vanished and the broken shards of glass floated gently into the trash bin. Then, Essek unceremoniously lifted the cat into his arms before he had the chance to wreak any more havoc, and deposited him outside the door.

Distraction removed, Essek made to turn around and return to his research, this time intending to lock the door to prevent further feline interruptions. But before he could do so, he made the mistake of looking into Frumpkin’s eyes again. The cat’s pupils gleamed, impossibly wide and round, and his tail was still swishing back and forth in an incomprehensible pattern, like some sort of code. A mixture of affection and guilt welled up in Essek, rooting to the spot.

Godsdammit, but he had promised Caleb he was going to take care of his cat, and that meant not ignoring Frumpkin when he was clearly trying to tell him something. Because even if Caleb no longer wanted a familiar to travel around with him, he still loved this damned cat, and also Essek was trying to be less callous and heartless in general.

He thought back to Caleb’s instructions with a fair bit of desperation, searching for some hint of what would make Frumpkin happy. All he came up with was a faint recollection, something about enjoying being scratched behind the ears.

“Is that all you want? Is that what you interrupted me for?” Fighting not to roll his eyes, Essek reached down for a pet.

As soon as he got close enough, Frumpkin lunged.

“Gah!” Essek snatched his hand back, nursing the sting of pain from Frumpkin’s bite. There was no blood; the little demons’s fangs hadn’t managed to break the skin. It could barely count as an injury, but the shock of betrayal hurt more than the scratch.

“What in the Nine Hells was that for?” Essek glared at Frumpkin, then noticed just in time that the cat was poised to strike again. This time, he only had to turn slightly to keep his hands out of harm's way, but Frumpkin wasn’t aiming for the exposed skin. There was a loose thread dangling from the hem of Essek’s sleeve, apparently caught by the previous attack. Frumpkin was intent on it. He flung himself at the thread, grabbing at it with his clumsy paws. It slipped through his grip, and he lunged again without hesitation.

Experimentally, Essek lifted his arm so the thread dangled higher off the ground. Frumpkin took the challenge to heart, leaping to grab it in his teeth before it slipped out of his grasp again, and he landed on the floor in defeat. Essek moved his arm over to one side, and Frumpkin followed with enthusiasm, this time managing to get the thread around one claw. The split second of resistance was enough to tear it from Essek’s sleeve. Frumpkin rolled over onto his back, victorious, batting his prize around in euphoric glee.

A grin spread across Essek’s face as he watched this display of simple delight.

“I suppose you were just bored, too. Was that it?”

Frumpkin responded by biting the string with a vengeance.

An idea began forming in the corner of his mind as he watched Frumpkin playing. Absentmindedly, Essek twisted his fingers and summoned a trace thread of dunamis into his hand, shaping and stretching it into a longer and longer cord of greyish, glowing energy, which he then dangled tantalizingly over Frumpkin’s head. The boring, non-magical string was immediately forgotten and discarded as Frumpkin caught sight of the dunamis toy. His whole body wiggling in excitement, he lunged at the cord again and again, pulling a genuine laugh out of Essek as he bobbed and weaved the magic around, dancing it out of Frumpkin’s grasp. He needed a break from his lab anyway, and this was shockingly entertaining.

---

“Well? How are they?” Just a hint of nerves colored Caleb’s voice, as it did every time they checked in on Essek. The fear that this time, the scry would reveal him not safe and sound on the Coast, far from the Trent’s reach, but somewhere cold and dark and threatening.

The faint glow faded from Jester’s eyes as the spell ended. Looking up at Caleb with a smile, she said, “You’re not going to believe this Caleb, it’s the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen.”

Caleb grinned back at her.

#critrole #critical role #my writing #fic prompts #the pedant in me needs to point out that Essek would definitely be wearing his anti-scrying necklace but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯#Anonymous

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themadlostgirl · 3 years

Text

Chaotic Coupling

*FINALLY! This f**king request took so f**king long! It matter not now because I finally finished it. It is also really long so hopefully that helps make up for how long it took. I do not mean it lightly when I say it is long. This took up 14 pages in google drive. You have been warned.*

Prompt: Reader is the goddess of chaos exiled to the Underworld. It is plenty boring but then she meets the recently deceased Peter Pan. He seems like he could be fun!

Requested by: anon

Warnings: language

~~~

What is more sweet than chaos? What is more freeing then giving into desire? What is a life if one does not indulge in their sins?

Boring. Tedious. Peaceful.

Not at all fun.

Y/N was a goddess of chaos. Messing with mortals by causing trouble and anarchy wherever she went. It was chaotic and threw mortals into a hysteria but that was not how Y/N saw it. Oh no. When she looked down and saw what her actions had wrought she only saw beauty. The anger, confusion, sadness, and raw untethered emotion bursting from every lifeform like a volcano. She loved it.

Unfortunately the other gods did not. She was warned hundreds of times to stop causing such blatant and unneeded mess around the globe but she never listened. It was not like the gods ever punished her. The world would always need a little chaos. Trying to contain it would only build it up until it was unleashed like a hellstorm causing much more damage than she ever could by herself. She almost wanted them to detain her just so she could see what her release of chaotic energy would do to the world.

That was not what happened. After centuries of warnings the gods did finally punish her. She was not put in a crate like a pup as she had almost secretly hoped. The gods were smarter than that. Instead she was put on a leash. Banished to the Underworld to help her Uncle Hades. Her presence would still be felt throughout the world but she could not incite anything truly chaotic as long as she was regulated to the Underworld.

At first she tried to keep her head up. Though she had never visited the Underworld she had to believe it would be fun. It was where all dead souls went. Good and bad. They may be dead but that didn’t mean they were free from chaos.

As she soon learned though nothing she did made much of a difference in the Underworld. Her Uncle Hades ran a tight ship so she could never get away with anything too bad. How could this punishment get anymore boring? She was practically debasing herself with these petty squabbles among the dead. It was humiliating and it was boring! What she would give to be able to leave but so long as she was under Hades watchful eye there was no escape.

It was another miserable day in what was essentially hell. Y/N was taking a walk along the street of the town Hades had modeled the Underworld to. All of the sudden a new soul materialized in the center of the square. That was nothing new. New souls appeared all the time. There was something kind of off about this one though. They had an energy about them that practically made her mouth water. Who exactly had died?

She made her way over to them. “Hello there,” She said and the soul turned sharp on his heel. It was a boy. Young. Disheveled brown hair and piercing green eyes blown wide like a cornered lion. “You have some bite don’t you?”

“Who are you?” He snarled.

“I’m Y/N. Goddess of Chaos and unwilling permanent tenant here in the Underworld.” She stalked around him assessing him up and down. “And you are?” She reached a hand out to touch him. He grabbed her by the wrist halting her. He pulled her closer his eyes hard like stones and his words dripping with malice

“Don’t touch me,” He growled.

Y/N chuckled. “You are fun.” She inhaled deeply, “You absolutely reek of it.”

“What?”

“My beautiful chaos. It’s been so long since I’ve caught a whiff of such potent mayhem. Far more intoxicating than any wine.”

“Get away from me,” The boy shoved her off, “Insane woman.”

“You would be insane too if you were stuck here for centuries unable to have any real fun.” She followed after him, unperturbed. “Well I guess you are now.”

“Why are you following me?”

“I’m bored. Duh. Also, I still haven’t learned your name my delicious little anarchist morsel.”

“Stop talking to me like that. My name is Peter Pan.”

“Hm,”

“What now?”

“Such a boring name for someone who absolutely reeks of pandemonium. Care if I call you something more interesting? Like Balthazar or Zebulon.”

“No.”

“No fun.”

That seemed to irk him and he reared on her with a fury. “You do not know who you are talking to. I have fun more than anyone. The world is my board and everyone else in it are pawns.”

“Really? Cause you seem straight boring now. Peter Pan. Blech, and here I had such high hopes for you.”

“Oh woe is you. So sorry to disappoint Your goddess-ness. Unless you can get me out of here then I have no use for you.”

“If I can’t get out of here then there’s no chance you can. If you decide you want to stop being such a stick in the mud come find me. I live in the clocktower.” With that she walked away. Such a shame. She had gotten her hopes up for a minute just for him to let her down. She wondered what he had done in his life that made him smell so delicious though. Oh wait! She could!

She entered the library and went to the secret section in the back. No one could enter here except for gods. Millions of books lined the shelves. The life stories of everyone that had ever lived. “Peter Pan.” She said his name and waited as a book levitated off of one of the many shelves and flew into her hands. “Let’s see what is so interesting about this Peter fellow.”

Lots of reading later and Y/N understood better exactly who she was dealing with. This Peter Pan was a lot like her. Living on his own island doing whatever it was that he wanted. Instigating violence and anarchy in the name of fun. He was also far older than he appeared. Since time stood still on his island, his Neverland, he lived for hundreds of years without growing older. How had she missed such a place? It sounded like somewhere she would have thrived.

It was almost eerie how similar the two were. At least in the context of his book. The real thing seemed a lot more boring. Perhaps that was due to him dying. Death just took the life out of everyone. Metaphorically speaking.

A few days went by of Y/N stalking Peter to see what he would do. After reading through his novel she was sure he’d be one of those that roughed it in the wilderness but to her surprise he took up residence in a secondhand shop. Why there?

Curiosity overtook her and she went inside the shop. Pretty little trinkets long ago lost lined the shelves and glass cases. Something stood out to her amongst all the sparkly treasures. A doll. A simple straw doll with a little blue coat on it. It stood proudly on a pedestal all by itself. What was so precious about this?

She took the doll off the pedestal to inspect it further.

“Drop it.” A cold voice demanded. There was Peter Pan behind one of the cases. His eyes narrowed at her.

“What? This?” She waved the doll, “If you don’t want people touching it you should really put it somewhere more secure than a pedestal in the middle of the room.”

“I said, drop it.” Peter urged again. Y/N didn’t miss the hint of panic in his voice.

“What if I don’t want to?” She produced a flame from her finger, “What if I burnt it to a crisp instead? It’s awfully dry. It’ll be ash in seconds.”

“Put it down!” Peter roared, he had jumped the case and in a split second had a dagger pressed to her throat. “Now!”

“Why is this so special to you?” She asked. He pressed the blade closer to her neck, not saying a word. Something clicked in Y/N’s head right then. A mention of a doll in Peter’s book. A smile creeped back onto her face.

“It’s your doll. The only toy and the only friend you ever had until you came to Neverland.” She extinguished the flame on her finger. “How sentimental.”

“How did--how did you--”

“I know everything now, Peter Pan.” A shadow passed over his face, “And I mean everything. The mother that never wanted you, the orphanage, the fairy that guarded you, your attempts to go back and have a real family failing year after year until you decided you were too old to be anyone’s son again--”

“AGH!” He slashed her throat but not a mark was left on her skin. Not a drop of blood.

“Now that was rude,” Y/N rolled her eyes, “I think I’m owed an apology.”

“But how did…” Peter stared at the dagger.

“Seems you need a reminder.” Y/N took him by the throat. The doll and dagger clattering to the ground as she hoisted him into the air. “I am a goddess. The Goddess of Chaos. Did you really think it would be that easy to kill me?”

He clawed at her hands but they were like stone around his throat. “Remember this Peter Pan, my body takes an insane amount of power to break. Yours, not so much. So remember your place in this world. You are no leader here. You are no threat. You are my toy and I can throw you away whenever I want. So either be a good toy or I will destroy you.” She dropped him. He collapsed to the ground gasping for breath.

“This was fun,” She knelt down next to him and pulled his chin up to look at her, “I’ll be back to play again.” She left a kiss on his forehead. “Farewell.”

Y/N did not go back to see Peter Pan again for several days. For days she watched him stew in his paranoia. Constantly looking over his shoulder like a frightened deer everywhere he went. He liked games. Y/N knew that much. But it looked like he wasn’t having as much as she was with this latest one. Every so often she would walk by him on the street, acting like she hadn’t noticed but all the while watching him from the corner of her eye. He got so tense when he saw her but never withdrew. He would glare at her until she passed.

It was fun having someone to torture like this again. He still had fight in him.

Then came the morning everything changed. Y/N was walking along the street as she usually did this time of day when she noticed Peter exiting the diner. What luck!

“Good morning!” She sidled up next to him, “Got some breakfast did you?”

He didn’t reply. Just shoved his hands deeper in his pockets and kept walking.

“Oh come now, it’s no fun if you don’t reply.” Y/N said, “If you don’t say anything I’ll just take it as a challenge.”

Nothing.

“Fine.” She sighed, “I just thought you’d like someone to talk to. You don’t talk to anyone around here. I think the only person I’ve seen you talk to is my uncle and that was only once. Don’t you find it boring doing this routine everyday? Don’t you want to try something new? We can have a lot of fun if you would just remove that stick up your ass. What happened to the fun boy full of mayhem that I read about? Did he die when you did? I wouldn’t think death would change a person so drastically. People usually retain their personalities from when they were living into their death but not you. You are more boring than watching grass grow and trust me, there is no grass growing here. You are as boring as watching non-growing grass. Isn’t that sad? I think--”

“SHUT UP!” Peter shoved her hard against the wall of a store. His arm was pressed against her neck pinning her in place. “Leave me alone!”

“Ha!” She laughed, “I told you I could get you to talk.”

“There has got to be a way to kill you.” He muttered.

Y/N smiled. Peter’s arm dug into her neck harder. “Stop smiling.”

“You have fire,” She grinned wider, “I like fire.”

Something clicked in his head. His grip on her easing. She figured that would get his attention. He backed away from her slowly. Y/N turned to a potted bush next to the store window. Peter watched her with a growing sense of interest.

“Don’t you like fire too?” She produced a spark in her hand and flicked it at the flower bush. “One little spark of fire and from that spark it grows. It grows, it spreads, it devours everything in its path leaving behind nothing but torment in its beautiful inferno. It’s the most breathtaking form of destruction I’ve ever come across.”

“You’re kinda crazy aren’t you?” Peter asked, watching as the flower bush was consumed by the flames.

“Perhaps.” she fluttered a hand over the fire making it grow faster. “Being the goddess of chaos kinda does that. I thrive off of disorganization and pandemonium. It would only make too much sense that’s what my mind is like as well. I may be impulsive but that doesn’t make me dumb. You have to find the right nerve to hit to maximize your effect. Groom them with little incidents of mayhem here and there. Then, when the timing is right you hit them where it’ll hurt most and watch the beauty unfold before you. Just like a flame can engulf an entire forest, one perfectly hit nerve can destroy an empire.”

“What do you do when it’s all in ashes then?” Peter asked.

“Not my area. I can bring civilizations down but I’ve never really put much thought into raising new ones up. That’s what the rest of my family is for. They take the ashes of what I have done and create new life. It’s an endless circle of life and death. Gods, I miss it.”

She stared deep into the fire.

“Is that what you’ve been doing with me? Bothering me with little annoyances for days on end before trying to strike that nerve that would drive me insane?”

“A bit.” She shrugged, “Not a fan?”

“Not really, but I guess that’s the point.” He sighed, “I think we’re a lot alike actually.”

“I thought the same thing while I was reading through your book. Did death really suck all the fun out of you?”

“Not much fun to be had here. None of my boys are here, I have magic but there’s nothing for me to control outside of a stupid little shop, and the residents are insanely dull and sad. I fear that you have been my only form of entertainment since I got down here.” Peter waved his hand and the flame from the one flower pot jumped into the next catching that one on fire as well. “What did you mean when you were talking about my book?”

“Oh, there is a portion of the library only accessible to gods. It holds books that contain the entire lives of everyone who has ever lived. I read through yours. That’s how I know everything about you.”

“I see…”

“Would you like to see it?”

“Sure,” He nodded. “Don’t think this means that I like you now or anything. You’re merely the most interesting thing here at the moment.”

“Which is precisely why you do like me.” She elbowed him, “Come, I think you’ll like this place.”

They went to the library and Y/N entered into the area reserved to gods. Peter pouted outside since he couldn’t get past the invisible barrier that shielded him from entering. Y/N grabbed his book and returned with it. “See?”

“Do the gods have these as well?”

“Yes, but they are kept on Olympus. Did you want to read mine?”

“I thought it only fair seeing as how you read my entire life story.”

“Well you would be reading mine for a long time. I do a great many things and I have lived far longer than you have. There’s no need for you to read my book though. Whatever you would like to know you simply have to ask. I have no secrets.”

“Forgive me if I don’t trust anyone who is that open about their past. No secrets? At all?”

“There is nothing I have done in my life that I feel ashamed or embarrassed about.”

“I believe that.” A grin started to spread on his face, an idea latching in his mind, “But that doesn’t mean you don’t have anything personal that you’d rather not share. Acts of wrath and embarrassing moments aren’t something you would feel bad about sharing. Intimate moments though, personal moments, that’s where you clam up.”

“Is this your clever way of trying to dig into my exciting love life?” She smirked. “Afraid I don’t have any secrets there either.”

“Oh no, you misunderstand. I don’t care about any past lovers. I can tell what really gets to you.” Peter stepped closer, “Your family.”

“I don’t care about my family.” Y/N said, she tried to sound casual but his tone gave her pause.

“Yes. You’ve said so. They kicked you out and it is dreadfully boring down in the underworld. But beyond that, you miss them. The only one down here is Hades and I doubt he’s great company. But the other gods and goddess, your other family, even though they banished you here you still yearn to be a part of their world.”

“You don’t know anything.” Y/N’s voice was quiet. She hadn’t expected him to turn the conversation around on her like this.

“I know a lot actually.” Peter continued, “And what I know best is when someone is lost. You may be the Goddess of Chaos but you know what I see? I see the same sadness and desperation that many of my boys wore on my island. You are just a lost little girl crying for your family.”

She hadn’t realized she threw the punch until she saw Peter collapse on the floor. Her breathing was heavy and her hands were shaking. This boy had drilled down into the very core of her being with no effort. He had seen through her as plainly as glass. It was unnerving and she may have reacted a tad harshly to his assessment.

“Punched by a goddess,” Peter stood up again, rubbing at his jaw, “Can honestly say that’s something I hadn’t expected to happen in my life, er, death I guess.”

“You’re not angry?”

“Hardly. Figured you were gonna react like that.” He sighed, “Still not the worst hit I’ve ever taken.”

“You are a strange boy.”

“It’s what keeps me interesting.” He collected the book that had fallen from his hands off the floor.

“Does this mean you still want to kill me?”

“I’m debating it.” He said. “This interaction doesn’t change the fact that you are incredibly annoying.”

“Hurtful but accurate.” Y/N shrugged as she made her way to the stairs that led up to the clocktower. “In another life I think we could have been a very good team.”

She paused. She turned around and saw that Peter had the same look of contemplation. Their eyes met and twin smiles sprouted on their faces. “Is this my magic at work or are we on the same page?” Y/N asked.

“I believe we are.” Peter approached her, “Neither of us wants to be trapped in the Underworld and neither of us individually has the power to escape. But if we work together…”

“We can escape this hellhole.” Y/N finished. “Think you can survive teaming up with me long enough to get out of here?”

“If it means freedom then I will be at your side until we both see the blue sky once again.” He held out a hand, “Partners?”

“Partners.” She shook his hand, “This is going to be so much fun!”

Time passed quickly after Peter and Y/N teamed up to find a way to escape the Underworld. Y/N already had a headstart on research since she spent so much time when she was first banished here finding a way out. She shared her findings with Peter and the two spent days pouring over every detail that looked like it could be useful.

With no need to sleep or eat in the Underworld they would spend several days straight huddled in the library plotting their escape. In between all their research and brainstorming sessions Y/N got to know Peter Pan beyond what she had read in his book and in return he got to know her. They were closer. He still said she was the most annoying thing in all the realms and she teased him often when he got too serious.

When things got especially tense and they needed to blow off steam they would go out together and cause mischief in town. They even snuck into Hades’ office once and stole some of his decanters of fancy liquor. For the first time in a very long time Y/N was truly having fun. Torturing and messing with souls was all well and good but she found she was actually enjoying her time with Peter. She was laughing a lot more with him. Peter himself seemed to grow more at ease with her with every passing day.

Before she had even realized it their begrudging partnership to find a way out of the Underworld had blossomed into friendship. Y/N couldn’t remember the last time she had a friend. She couldn’t remember if she ever did. No one had ever wanted to be very close to her. Causing chaos wherever you go, even unintentionally, threw people off. It never bothered Peter though. He called her annoying but he smiled and laughed at the havoc that naturally happened around her. He played along with it.

“Good morning, Chaos,” Peter let himself into her clocktower bedroom. “Got you a muffin from the diner.” He tossed her a paper bag.

“Thanks.” She caught it. “So, look at this thing I found. So we know that the only way anyone can get out of here is if Hades opens a portal, right? Well, apparently it isn’t solely Hades that can open portals out of the Underworld. Any god can by either being more powerful than Hades like Zeus or by usurping him as the ruler of the Underworld.”

“So you could open a portal out of here?”

“Theoretically yes. But we would have to usurp my uncle.”

“I think we can take him together.”

“No. Here’s the problem. The only way for us to usurp him is to kill him and it is hilariously, nearly impossible, to kill a god.”

“But there is a possibility?”

“I mean I guess but it is hardly a viable option. The only way I know how to kill a god is with the Olympian Crystal which Uncle Hades keeps heavily protected. It is also broken with no way to fix it. Trust me, he brought it out once for me to try and fix but I couldn’t do anything.”

Peter pondered it for a minute. “Okay, you couldn’t fix it all by yourself but what if we tried combining our powers? Do you think that could do it?”

“Maybe. Hades and I tried together once but he said it wouldn’t work since his heart isn’t beating.”

“What does that have to do with--”

“It was part of his own banishment. He can’t leave the Underworld unless his heart starts beating again or something like that. So even though he has the means his dead heart keeps him trapped like us.”

“Alright, is he tied to the crystal in any way? Is there any way he could track it if it went missing?”

“No. So long as it is broken he shouldn’t be able to find it. Why? Plan on stealing it?”

“Yes.”

“Stealing my uncle’s most prized possession from right under his nose, sounds risky...I love it!”

“I thought you would.” Peter grinned, “Seems that for the first time we have a real plan. I say this calls for a celebration.”

“Not too premature?” She asked.

“Well, if we fuck it up then we are both doomed so we might as well celebrate now before anything potentially goes wrong.” He pulled what was left of the liquor they stole from Hades out.

“I won’t object to that.” She took a sip before passing the decanter back to Peter. She stared wistfully out of the clocktower window and sighed. “It’s so strange,” Y/N said, “To be this close to freedom. I have so many memories of the world above but they feel more and more like fantasies I’ve created than something I was ever a part of. I don’t even know what I would do when I get up there. Where would I go?”

“You’re more than welcome to come cause havoc on Neverland if you’d like.” Peter said. “Give my boys a challenge.”

“You really want me on your island? The most annoying being in all the realms?” She teased.

“If you happen to be near at least.” He smiled, softer. “I’d blame it on the liquor but it doesn’t affect us so I guess I’m just gonna have to say this.”

“Say what?”

“I think I am actually gonna miss you when we get out of here.”

“Really?”

“Yes, Chaos.”

“I suppose I’d miss you too.” Y/N shook her head, “I take that back, I know that I’ll miss you.”

“Well that’s enough mushy stuff,” Peter said quickly, dropping his gaze, “We have a crystal to steal after all.”

“Right, of course,” Y/N nodded.

More time passed and Y/N found herself in a new and frightening headspace. She was confused. All her life she had lived through chaos, so much so that it was what she was named the goddess of. Anarchy was where she was most comfortable but yet, when that same pandemonium she thrived in was pushed inward she didn’t know what to do. She could do well in chaos because she always had a focus point. Herself. She was the eye of the storm. She was safe while everything happened around her.

So why did it feel like she was caught in the hurricane?

It had all started that day she and Peter had decided to steal the crystal and usurp Hades. Something about that day disturbed her. When she looked at Peter now her mind wandered. When he sat close enough to touch, her brain burnt out. Yet nothing had changed.

No. That wasn’t entirely true. At some point during all their scheming Y/N had grown to really care about Peter. She’d even call him a friend. When she thought of her life outside of the Underworld she couldn’t think of one where she wasn’t hanging out with him. She already missed him and he wasn’t even gone yet.

What was wrong with her?

Whatever it was it would have to wait. She had a mission now. It was finally the day. After tons of careful and meticulous planning they were going to steal the crystal. Peter was serving as a distraction for Hades while Y/N snuck in and bypassed the traps and wards Hades had around the crystal. She figured she’d have five maybe ten minutes max to get in and get out before Hades got bored of Peter and came back. That’s if she didn’t trip one of his traps first.

By the time she finally got the safe unlocked her whole body was sweating and shaking from nerves. She had come so close and now all she had to do was grab it and get out. She took down the last ward and grabbed the pieces of the crystal and shoved them into her bag before slamming the safe closed and putting the wards back up as quickly as she could.

And done. Phew. Now all she had to do was get out.

“Now this is a surprise.” Y/N froze. Damn. She had taken too long. She poofed the bag away to her room in the clocktower before turning to meet her uncle.

“Hello, hope you don’t mind that I popped in.” She said as casually as she could. “Life up top was getting dreadfully boring.”

“I would say so, it is a rare thing for you to come visit me.” He scanned her up and down, “What entertainment do you think I can provide?”

“I don’t know. You have the billiard table. Care to play?”

“Not now.” He shooed her, “I have work to do so you can scamper along and torment some other poor soul.”

“Boo! You really are the god of the dead.” She stuck her tongue out at him. In the next instant she reappeared in her room. She collapsed back on the bed in relief. Hades didn’t suspect anything.

She heard the sound of pounding footsteps and Peter barged in. “Did you get it?”

Y/N held up the bad with pieces inside. “Who do you take me for?”

“Yes!” Peter was so happy he lifted her off the bed and into the air in a tight hug, “We’re gonna get out of here!”

And the inner turmoil was back. Heat crawled up her neck and burned her face. Had Peter ever held her like this before? Why did it feel so nice to be in his arms?

Just as quick as it started Peter dropped her back to her feet and reached around her for the bag. He pulled out the pieces and set them on the bed, looking over them carefully. He was talking about how it looked like it should be an easy fix but there were other logistics to take into account and whole lot of other technical mumbo jumbo that she really didn’t care about. Well, not so much cared about but couldn’t bring herself to comprehend since her mind was still being tossed around in a tornado of unfamiliar feelings.

“Hey” Peter shook her shoulder, “Were you listening?”

“Spaced out. What were you saying?” She asked.

“I tried a spell on my own but it did nothing. Care to try with me this time like we planned?”

“Got it.” Y/N took her spot next to him and stared down at the broken pieces of crystal. She picked up one and Peter picked up the other. “Here goes nothing.”

They faced each other and started the spell. She was channeling all of her power into it, willing the crystal to come together. This had to work. It just had to. The spell died and when she looked down she frowned at the still broken crystal in her hands.

No. No! It was supposed to work! This was supposed to work! She slid down to the ground, her half of the crystal laying limply in her hands. Peter knelt down with her.

“It didn’t work.” She muttered, “It didn’t work, Peter. We went through all of this and our one way out of here is still just a hunk of junk!”

“We’re never going to see the world above again.” Tears started to slip from her eyes and down her cheeks.

“Don’t say that,” Peter tilted her chin up. His large green eyes bore into her. “We are not giving up now. Not after we have come this far. We are going to see that big blue sky again, Y/N. I swear it.”

“How? We have no other way to get out of here unless we kill Hades and we can’t kill him without this crystal.”

“We’ll find a way. We will not rest until we get out of here. I don’t care how long it takes. Do you wanna know why?” He brushed the tears from her eyes, “Because I want us to go on adventures together. I want to see what you can really do when you can let chaos run free. I want to show you my home. I want you to see Neverland. I want us to have fun together outside of here.”

“Peter…” The whirlwind within me started to ebb, “I want that too.”

“And hey, in the meantime, we can still have fun together right here.” He smiled.

That’s when it hit her. What that chaos reigning inside her really was. Why it felt so strange yet so pleasant at the same time.

“I love you.” She said.

Peter blinked at her. “Huh?”

She grabbed his face and brought him closer so her nose touched his, “I love you, Peter Pan.”

He didn’t respond. Not with words at least. The distance between them, as small as it was, closed and she felt his lips brush against hers in hesitant kiss. She pulled him closer again and the kiss deepened. The spark that ran through her felt like a bolt of lightning and she should know since she had been struck by one of Zeus’ blasts before. This was a lot better though and it certainly didn’t leave a coppery feeling in her mouth.

A flash of light made them break apart. Down at their knees was the Olympian Crystal in one piece. Y/N picked it up. She could feel the power running through it. “But how did…?”

“Through the most powerful magic of all. Something that not even a god could compare to.” Peter grinned, “True love.”

“Are you saying that we have true love?” Y/N teased. Truthfully the thought made her want to jump up and down but she would never admit it.

“Seems so. Only makes sense that I would fall in love with the goddess of chaos.” Peter ruffled her hair. “And she made the unfortunate decision to love me back.”

“Why’s that unfortunate?” Y/N asked.

“Cause now you’re stuck with me forever, Chaos.” He pulled her into his arms.

“I think I can live with that.” She kissed him again. She held up the crystal with a wicked smile. “Now, my love, how do you feel about killing a god for our first date?”

“Sounds perfect to me.” He matched her insane smile. They were going to have so much fun!

#peter pan ouat #ouat peter pan #ouat #neverland #peter pan imagine #peter pan x reader #request

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keys-to-the-kinkdom · 3 years

Note

i see medical/examination kink on your list 👀 maybe someone (take your pick) examining ciri? perhaps she's a sex slave they're getting ready to sell??? - 👽

Aiden was at the slave market under contract. Despite his reputation, he did tend to prefer his partners consenting, but a grieving widow had put out a contract on a slaver and Aiden had been too much of a bleeding heart to say no. Lambert was going to laugh himself sick when he heard. The problem he was having was that his target was back at the slave pens. The public weren't allowed access to the slave pens without being a buyer. Aiden didn't want to buy a slave, not even to kill one of the slavers.

He was leaning against one of the pillars in the auction room, trying to look dangerous and unapproachable while he worked out how to fulfil his contract. He was barely paying attention to the stage, just enough to spot a threat if one was to emerge. A flash of white caught his eye. His first thought was that Geralt was here chasing the same or another contract. A closer look showed just how wrong he was.

Ciri was standing, tall and regal in the middle of the stage. She was completely bare. Even with her cunt out and her nipples teased to stiff peaks, she radiated serene regality. Aiden adjusted himself subtly in his breeches. Like all the slaves, her hands were tied behind her with sturdy rope and there was a thick leather collar around her throat. The leash was held by the auctioneer.

'Our next lot is a young woman, approximately twenty five years of age, healthy and strong. She would be suitable for any work, including manual labour and bedsport. She is not untouched. I'll start the bidding at 300 crowns,' the auctioneer called.

Aiden’s hand was in the air before he had a chance to think. Ciri was a Wicher in all but mutations. She’d be able to help him fulfil the contract. He also owed it to the wolves to rescue their youngest from a situation that she probably didn’t want to be in (although she looked comfortable enough on the stage). Those were the reasons he’d have given if anyone had asked him what he was doing. The reality was though, that in that moment, he saw her and he wanted and he had the means to take.

The bidding spiralled up from 300 to 500 to 700 and Aiden began to sweat. He’d had a good season on the Path, starting out with new gear from the caravan and picking up a few very lucrative contracts early on, but he wasn’t made of money. Not like some of these people were. Just as he really began to worry, Ciri bared her teeth and snarled at the greasy, portly man that was attempting to outbid Aiden. Her sharp teeth glinted in the light and the glare was as feral as anything Lambert could have produced. Aiden’s dick twitched in his smalls. His opposition on the other hand, shrank back, put off by the sight and he missed his chance to bid.

‘Going once! Going twice! Sold to the man with the red hair!’ the auctioneer called. He handed Ciri’s leash off to an attendant and the next slave was dragged out.

Aiden made his way through the administrative process as quickly as he possibly could. The attendant that led him back gave him an indulgent smile.

‘She really is something to look at, that one, isn’t she?’ he said conspiratorially.

Aiden swallowed and nodded, ‘Yeah.’ His voice was raspy. ‘I can’t wait to find out what she’s like in bed. Seemed to have some fire in her.’

Of course, he knew Ciri’s fire well. The idea of it leashed under his control was doing things to him that he didn’t really want to admit to. He was learning a lot of things about himself very suddenly.

The slave pens were in a large warehouse at the back of the auction building. There was an open space in the middle where the sold slaves were tied to hitching posts, waiting for their new owners. Aiden’s eyes snapped immediately to Ciri’s white blonde hair. He walked towards her like he was the one on the leash.

When he reached her, a lean, rat-faced man stepped forward and took the token that provided proof of sale.

‘Watch for this one,’ he sneered, ‘she’s a feral little thing.’

He reached out to tweak a nipple but froze when Aiden clamped a hand around his wrist.

‘She’s mine,’ he hissed, ‘and you will not touch her.’

‘Quite right, Sir,’ the man said with an oily smirk, stepping back. ‘Will you inspect the goods before you leave?’

Aiden had heard of the practice, of course. As a Wicher it was impossible to not be introduced to the seedier sides of life. As a Cat Witcher who was less picky about his contracts than schools like the Griffins or the Wolves, it was expected that he’d have contacts in the underbelly of society. As such, he knew what he needed to do here. He knew he should feel reluctant, but all he felt was desperate. He wanted to get his hands on that pale, creamy flesh and show her who she belonged to.

‘Yes, I’ll inspect her,’ he said, stepping forward.

They were nose to nose now. He could feel her little puffs of breath hitting his chin. Her warmth was intoxicating. He leaned closer, placing his lips by her ear.

‘Hello there, little pup,’ he whispered.

She shivered, very lightly, but enough that he noticed.

He stood back and looked her over.

‘Good. She knows to hold position at least,’ he said, eyes flicking to the slaver.

He reached out and tilted her chin up. Her skin was soft and warm. It wasn’t the first time they’d touched. He’d helped train her after all and spent several winters in the wolves’ keep with her where they all wrestled and sparred. This deliberate touching of her naked skin was different though. Electricity sparked along his fingertips which felt like they suddenly had a direct line to his cock.

‘Where did you get her?’ Aiden asked.

As he waited for an answer, he lifted first one eyelid and then the other. Her eyes were clear and bright and she didn’t waver under his hands. He burned with the trust it implied. He ran his fingers down over her cheeks, stroking her hair back from her face and coming to rest cupping her jaw. She blinked once, slowly.

‘Found her running around in Ebbing, asking questions she shouldn’t have been. Didn’t take much to shut her up,’ the slimy arsehole crowed. Aiden longed to silence him. Permanently.

He focused on Ciri. Her light, sweet scent filled his nostrils and calmed him. He was where he needed to be to fulfil the contract. He swore to himself there and then that he would kill this odious man before he left. How dare he think he had the right to touch Aiden’s Ciri? She deserved better than his disgusting hands on her sweet, perfect body.

He lifted her top lip and slid one finger in, running it around her teeth. They were all in place with no cracks or other damage. He breathed a little easier. Ciri didn’t have the same mutated ability to grow new teeth if her original ones were damaged. Her training had focused a lot on protecting her face. He pulled his finger back and hooked it across her bottom teeth, pulling her mouth open. She allowed it and he swallowed hard at the sight of her little pink tongue, sitting there so innocently. He imagined it licking at his cock. He slid two fingers in, as deep as he could. She breathed deeply around them but didn’t otherwise react and Aiden felt himself beginning to leak. Her mouth was warm and soft and he wanted nothing more than to push her to her knees and sink his cock in. He couldn’t though. He had to keep his cover. He had to hope that Ciri knew what he was doing and that she wouldn’t hate him afterwards.

He pulled his fingers out and dragged them down her throat, spreading the wetness and making it glisten. As he trailed over the collar he felt her breath hitch and he paused to tug on it a little. Her scent deepened, ripening with arousal. He tugged harder and she whined. He considered teasing her some more, but resisted, instead moving to slip his hands down her arms, checking her muscle definition. He tested the rope around her wrists and subtly loosened it enough that she could slip out if she needed to. He desperately hoped she’d stay where she was, but at least she now had the ability to leave if she wished. The leash was looped around the pillar but it wasn’t tied. A good pull would have it free in seconds.

His fingers skimmed from her wrists over her ribs where he frowned over how clear it was that she hadn’t been eating enough. She blinked at him again and relaxed into his hands.

‘Did you not bother feeding her?’ he asked, venom dripping from his voice.

‘She’s alive, ain’t she? She ate enough.’

‘I prefer my partners to feel less like I may break them the first time I throw them down to fuck them properly,’ Aiden spat.

Ciri’s moan was almost certainly too quiet for anyone else to hear. It was barely audible to Aiden’s Witcher enhanced ears, but it was audible. He smirked at her. He could see a muscle jumping in her thigh where she was clenching her legs. He preened at the knowledge that she was turned on by him.

From her ribs, he slid his hands up and cupped her breasts. He paused with his thumbs hovering over her nipples, which were still taught and peaked in the slightly chill air of the room.

‘Are you sensitive?’ he asked her, his voice dripping like dark honey between them. He should be kind to her, but there was a beast inside him, rising up and screaming for her ruin.

‘Yes,’ she whispered.

‘Yes?’ he asked, giving in all at once to his basest instincts, ‘Yes what?’

‘Yes, Sir, I’m sensitive,’ she replied, louder now and more confident with something to push back against.

‘Hmm.’

He pinched them, quick and hard and she arched back and wailed. Each breast was barely a handful, but they were soft and round and tight. Her nipples were small and he applied himself to teasing them, alternating sharp pinches and light brushes in an unpredictable pattern. He could see her struggling to stay still, wanting more. Her back was bowed into an arch as she pressed forward into his hands. He thumbed over both nipples, gave them a sudden hard twist then let go entirely. Her voice rose in a reedy wail.

‘You are sensitive,’ he purred, ‘Does that apply to everywhere, I wonder.’ She opened her mouth to answer him, but he interrupted her. ‘You only need to speak when ordered to. Otherwise, keep your mouth shut unless you’re moaning on my fingers.’

She closed her mouth and nodded. He pulled the leash rope free from the low railing it was attached to and tugged her forward. She fell into him, off balance. He used the opportunity to grab a handful of her tight little ass which she wiggled. He pressed his hand between her legs and found that she was soaking. Slick dripped freely from between her folds and she moaned as soon as he touched her.

‘Eager little thing, aren’t you,’ he murmured. ‘So wet for me. You’re going to make such a good slut.’

He spun her around and pressed one hand to her hip and the other between her shoulders.

‘Bend over and put your hands on the rail,’ he ordered.

As soon as she complied, he kicked her feet wider, exposing her most intimate places to his view. She was flushed red and dripping. The scent of her arousal wound around him and intoxicated him. He had to have her. He wound the leash around his fist and pulled it, forcing her head up and her back to arch so that she was presenting to him.

‘I’m going to touch you now and you’re going to come on my fingers like the greedy little slut that you are,’ he told her. ‘If you’re good, I’ll give you my cock, but you have to earn it. I want to hear you scream, do you understand?’

‘Yes, Sir,’ she whimpered.

‘Good girl.’

His finger circled her clit and she whined. He laughed, low and a little cruel. It wasn’t going to be that easy.

‘Have you ever been fucked before, little slut?’ he asked her.

‘Yes, Sir,’ she replied, gasping for breath as he pushed two fingers into her without pause. He wanted to wreck her. He wanted to own her, to possess her so utterly that she would never look at another man again. The intensity of his own feelings overwhelmed him and he pushed another finger in, leaning forward. His hard cock pressed against her arse and he thrust, groaning at the friction. He leaned forward, draped half across her back so that he could hiss into her ear.

‘Look at you,’ he growled, as deep and resonant as any Wolf, ‘You were made for this. You were made to be my little slut.’ He dropped his voice to a quiet rumble so that no one but her would hear. ‘What would Geralt think if he could see you like this?’ he asked. ‘His precious daughter spread out on my fingers, whimpering for more. What would your Uncles say? Do you think they’d be disgusted to know that you’re nothing but a little slut? Or do you think they’d want a turn?’

Ciri gasped and moaned at that, slick leaking out around Aiden’s fingers to drip onto the ground. He pushed the fourth in and reached down with his thumb, circling her clit with a lazy, light pressure that did nothing more than frustrate.

‘Oh, you like that idea, do you? You like the idea of your father and your uncles lining up behind me, ready to take their turn with my precious little slut? Is that what you want? I can make that happen,’ he growled twisting his fingers and pressing down with his thumb at the same time.

Ciri came apart with a wail, loud enough to turn heads in their direction. Aiden preened, knowing that everyone could see how good his little slave was. She shook apart under him, cunt clenching and fluttering around his fingers. He hooked them forward and pulled, twisting and pressing as she came. Slick gushed out, running down her thighs and soaking his hand. He purred at the feeling.

‘What a good little slut,’ he whispered. ‘So good for me.’

‘Thank you, Sir. Thank you,’ she whimpered. Her voice was scratchy from the screaming.

He drew his fingers out and pulled her up. Her knees were shaking and she fell back against him.

‘You’ve made a mess,’ he said. ‘I think you should clean up after yourself.’

He offered her his hand and she stuck her tongue out, darting little kitten licks to clean it of her slick. She moaned as she did so and he couldn’t help but grind forward, pressing his cock against her pert little arse. She pressed back. The friction was both delicious and terrible. He wasn’t going to come in his braies like a kit. He wasn’t. If she didn’t stop that though, he might not have a choice. He pulled his hand away.

‘Enough now,’ he said. He barely recognised the sound of his own voice.

‘Are you happy with your purchase?’ the odious little man asked. Another man had joined him while Aiden had been distracted and he barely resisted the urge to curse. This was his target. The slaver that he had been sent after. Before he could react, Ciri had shrugged out of her ropes, ducked down and pulled the knife out of his boot. Her throw was textbook, exactly as he had taught her, and it embedded itself in the target’s eye.

All hell broke loose as his body hit the ground.

#keys writes #keys prompt fill #dead dove #dead dove: do not eat #keys sex slavery cw #keys exhibitionism cw #keys medical/examination kink cw #keys pseudo-incest cw #keys objectification cw #keys alien anon

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degrassi-fanatic · 3 years

Text

Window Sill

As Kakashi wanders through the streets of Konoha, absentmindedly flipping through the pages of Icha Icha Tactics, he hears children’s laughter ringing through the alleyways as a familiar brown and blue blur races right past him, towards the direction of the hospital.

Shaking his head, Kakashi laughs softly at their antics; Konohamaru really is just another Naruto.

And just like Naruto, he’s about to be beaten half an inch from death.

As he predicted, in the distance, Kakashi can hear Sakura-chan shout, followed by the loud crack of a chakra enhanced fist and the sounds of Konohamaru and his little gang of delinquents wailing in pain.

He’s about to sprint off towards the hospital to save the children from Sakura’s rage when he notices Ebisu’s already halfway there, shouting something like “Just because you can fix bones, Sakura-san, doesn’t mean you should break them.”

A wave of nostalgia washes over him. It only feels like yesterday when Kakashi had to be the one to stop Sakura from giving Naruto permanent brain damage from a grade 3 level concussion.

Speaking of the little punk, Kakashi senses his familiar chakra pattern not too far away.

Shutting his book, he turns around only to bump into the younger man, who seems to have been standing only a hair-breadth away from him. Naruto looks uncharacteristically nervous as he darts his eyes everywhere and anywhere that isn’t Kakashi’s own.

“Naruto.” he greets, as he takes a step back to put some space in between them.

“You were in ANBU, right, Kakashi-sensei?” Naruto asks out of the blue, wringing his hands out in front of him.

Dread begins to build up in the pit of his stomach.

There’s only one reason why Naruto would be so anxious asking about Kakashi’s time in the ANBU forces.

In his whole life, Kakashi had never expected for Naruto to figure him out. He had always operated under the assumption that Naruto was simply young enough for those memories to have disappeared as he grew older, or that his ANBU commissioned mask was enough to hide his identity, or that maybe Naruto would simply learn to let the matter go.

It goes without saying that he’s a fool for believing in that last one.

“Yes.” Kakashi answers back, a touch wary.

“Do you know who Hound is?”

The question confuses him to no end.

Why on Earth would Naruto ask Kakashi who Hound is? Was it some weird tactic to get him to tell the truth? Was it a last chance to own up to everything? Doesn’t Naruto know that Kakashi is…

That’s just it, Kakashi realizes, Naruto doesn’t know that he is Hound.

He doesn’t know that it was Kakashi, who up until Naruto had entered the Academy at the age of eight, had been spending every available night in between his ANBU mission with him.

“Hound?” he pretends to ponder as he tilts his head to the side, “Why do you care about him?”

Suddenly, Naruto drops his chin down to rest at his chest, his hands curling up into fists as his whole spine does ramrod straight.

He mutters something under his breath but it’s unintelligible, even to his heightened sense of hearing.

“Sorry?” Kakashi asks, as he leans in closer to listen.

“He used to take care of me.” Naruto mumbles out.

When Naruto was still only a baby, Kakashi remembers standing guard inside of his nursery. Sometimes, when he would wake up in a crying fit, Kakashi would either have to bottle-feed him milk or rock him back to sleep. Other times, the only thing that would soothe him would be the hushed stories Kakashi would whisper to him about his parents and all their feats.

Afterwards, when Naruto had begun to totter around, Kakashi remembers having to keep watch from the window. It worked well up until one day, when the boy had flung open his window in the middle of the night, giggling at the sight of a masked man outside of his bedroom. Naruto tugged and tugged at his arm, whining about wanting to play, until Kakashi had no choice but to climb inside.

The openness of his actions had made him worry because surely Naruto was old enough to understand that letting in a stranger was dangerous but, his worry was outweighed by the sheer amount of trust that was offered up to him when Naruto continued to open up his window for Kakashi.

Unfortunately, all of those nights spent playing with Naruto and his toys came to a screeching halt when the boy turned eight.

Naruto enrolled into the Academy, and Kakashi never bothered coming back to his window.

“He was the only person who— he was the only one beside the Sandaime, who used to hold me and play with me and… yeah.” Naruto explains, kicking at the ground, “He never talked, which was weird, but I guess that just made him a better listener.”

It felt like the Earth had stilled beneath Kakashi’s own two feet.

Kakashi was the only one to hold Naruto?

“The only one?”

All Kakashi gets in terms of a response is a shrug of his shoulders.

“Y’know, when I was little,” Naruto reminisces with a small grin, “He used to bring me toys from wherever he had his missions.”

It was Kakashi’s favourite thing in the whole wide world, seeing little Naruto’s reaction to all of the toys he had brought back for him; a physical reminder that no matter where he went or what he was doing, he was always thinking about Naruto.

His smile had been Kakashi’s only motivation when it came to staying alive.

Every night, Naruto would sit by his window sill, waiting in anticipation for Kakashi to come back from a mission. The two of them had even created their own special password and as soon as Naruto would hear that quick three-two-three knocking pattern, he would throw open the window for him.

A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth.

“Hound, he, um, he stopped coming by once I got into the Academy.” Naruto continues.

The phantom smile on Kakashi’s face vanishes as he fights back a flinch at the reminder of his actions.

“At first, I thought he was just caught up in a mission but then days became weeks, which became months, and soon a year went by and I realized that he was never going to come back.”

“Do you miss him?’ Kakashi asks quietly.

“If I’m being honest, I’m pretty pissed at him,” Naruto explains, clenching both his jaw and his fists, “He just left. He didn’t bother explaining why, and eight year old me just had to deal with it, deal with losing one of the only people in the world who cared about him.”

Blinking back tears, Kakashi cannot bear looking at Naruto right now, so he averts his gaze to the ground.

“I’m sure he had a good reason.” he lies.

“Yeah, well, no reason is good enough for me,” Naruto spits back, “So, if you can’t tell me who Hound is, can you at least tell him Naruto is still pissed after all these years?”

“I will.”

It seems as though Naruto has given up on his mission to find out who Hound is because weeks pass by without incident and without Naruto popping up to have any more startling conversations about the past.

Kakashi is really starting to believe that Naruto has finally learnt the art of letting go, only to be proven extremely wrong when he’s shoved up against a tree.

Naruto’s arm is pinning his shoulders against the harsh, splinter-y bark of the tree trunk, while his other arm goes to rest beside Kakashi’s head to maintain balance.

He’d commend Naruto on his improved sneak attack skills, if it weren’t for the fact that his precious, signed copy of Icha Icha Tactics is page-first in a pile of dirt. He’s a moment away from yelling some sense into that nonsensical head of Naruto’s when he notices the stream of tears dripping off of his jaw.

“He’s dead, isn’t he?” he asks, his voice cracking, “I’ve been stalking you for two weeks because I desperately wanted to know Hound was, and you haven’t met up with anyone that could be him.”

It’s in that moment that he comes to the overwhelming realization that he needs to come clean; it’s either that or let Naruto experience more pain than necessary, and Kakashi will always do anything in his power to prevent the latter.

But, how do you tell one of the most precious people in your life, that you have deceived them?

“Naruto…”

“That’s the reason he stopped visiting,” Naruto says, gritting his teeth, “It’s because he was dead and no one thought to tell me and now I have to mourn someone I never really knew all because—”

“It’s me, Naruto,” he blurts out, “I’m Hound.”

For a minute or two, nothing happens as the anguish on Naruto’s face dissipates. He studies Kakashi’s own face, presumably for any signs of deception or lying.

Then, as if a whirlwind erupts from within him, Naruto grabs Kakashi by the collar, hauling him off the tree and throwing him onto the ground. Before Kakashi can scramble to get up, Naruto climbs over his body and wrenches his fist back behind him.

Within a second, he feels a burst of pressure at his jaw, followed by the unsettling clashing of his teeth in his own mouth. Faintly, he tastes metal and with some poking and prodding, he realizes he’s accidentally bit into his own cheek.

“You jerk!” Naruto cries as he slams his fists down into Kakashi’s chest, “Why didn’t you tell me! Why did you stop coming around! I used to cry myself to sleep because I thought you finally realized I was a demon!”

His punches grow weaker and weaker by the second until soon Naruto is collapsing atop of Kakashi, hiding his face in Kakashi’s neck like he used to when the other kids were being especially cruel that day.

“Hey, hey, shh,” he murmurs as he strokes the back of Naruto’s head, “ You did nothing wrong, okay?”

“Well, it felt like it.”

Kakashi’s chest caves in on itself.

Before he can say anything else, an explanation, an apology, anything, the warm weight atop of him is gone. He can only vaguely register Naruto mumbling out a shunshin no jutsu.

Soon, all he’s left with is a puff of smoke.

Days keep adding up until it’s been more than a week without Naruto giving Kakashi the time of day, and for once, it’s not because of the lack of trying on Kakashi’s part. In fact, he’s attempted all sorts of plans to get the man to even look at him.

He bought enough ramen from Ichiraku’s to last him a lifetime, he tried to entice him with promises of teaching him a new jutsu, he bought him a brand new orange jumpsuit, hell, he even swallowed his pride and tried to enlist Sakura’s help only for her to shake her head while softly telling him this was something he needed to do on his own.

It’s a complete mess and one he wishes he weren’t so concerned about cleaning up.

And he wouldn’t be, if it weren’t for the simple fact of the matter that Kakashi misses Naruto and he misses his company and his stupid ramen and his stupid orange jumpsuits.

Sulking as he strolls alongside the bank of the river, Kakashi kicks pebbles into the water while he thinks up various ways to get Naruto to talk to him.

Konohamaru could maybe help him out but, then again, he’d probably side with his big brother Naruto on the matter at hand. Perhaps, Sai or Gai could help, they seem level headed enough to come up with ideas that could work. Actually, Sai isn’t well versed in emotions and Gai would just say something about the Springtime of Youth. Tenzou, maybe…

While deep in thought on what to do, Kakashi doesn’t notice a person walking in front of him, until he barrels right into them. Before the person can fall into the river, Kakashi catches them by the wrists and drags them in close.

Looking down, he realizes it's Naruto that he's caught.

Once he’s made sure that Naruto is safe from losing his balance, Kakashi takes a step backwards. Awkwardly, he shoves both his hands into his pockets as he rocks back and forth on the balls of his feet.

“Thanks.” Naruto mumbles out, his cheeks burning.

For longer than he’d like to admit, Kakashi debates with himself on what he should say to the man in front of him.

“Y’know, you have to talk to me some time.”

Immediately, Kakashi cringes at the words leaving his mouth.

“You stopped talking to me for four years and were going to spend the rest of our lives lying about it.” Naruto accuses, the flush on his cheeks now being a result of anger rather than embarrassment.

His heart aches at the underlying pain he can hear in Naruto’s voice. Without thinking twice, Kakashi reaches out for Naruto’s arm.

“I’m sorry, if you’d let me explain—”

He’s cut off by Naruto knocking his hand away.

“I don’t need to know why you left,” Naruto says as he begins to walk away, “My brain can fill in the blanks.”

“Whatever you think my reasoning was,” Kakashi explains as he follows Naruto, “I promise you, it’s not.”

All of a sudden, Naruto stops in his tracks, only a few short steps away from reaching the dirt path back to the village. He whips around to glare at Kakashi, his eyes lighting up with fury as he raises an accusatory finger in Kakashi’s direction.

“Did you even want to be my sensei?” Naruto questions as he takes a step towards him, “Or were you disappointed when you realized the kid you ditched years ago was your student now?”

“I wanted to be your sensei.” he says earnestly, but it seems as though Naruto isn’t even listening to him.

“Why did you bother coming around if you were just going to leave?” Naruto snarks out as he shoves his finger into Kakashi’s chest, “Was it me? Did I drive you off?”

“No, just let me—”

Before he can get another word out, he watches as all of the ire and all of the incendiaries building up inside of Naruto fade away, only to be replaced with a bone-deep sense of weariness that should never be worn on the face of someone so young.

“You want to know something, Kakashi-sensei?” he asks, not looking for a real answer, “For the longest time, I used to wonder if you ever thought about me, if you saw potential in me or if you just saw me as a roadblock for Sasuke and Sakura’s success. I used to wonder if you even liked me.

“Now, I know my answer.”

How could Naruto think that? How could Kakashi let him think that?

For a second, it looks like Naruto is about to say something else but then he simply turns around and continues walking in the direction of the village.

Remaining where he is, Kakashi stands still as he stares at Naruto’s back.

“Minato-sensei and Kushina-san had just died.” he says, the name of his parents causing Naruto to halt, “Rin and Obito had died before that. My parents long before that.”

Twisting his neck to look over his shoulder, Naruto meets Kakashi’s eyes; a puzzled look on his face

“But, you were still alive.” he continues, “Up until you were eight, I could keep you safe. You weren’t a shinobi. You didn’t have to take orders from higher up. You didn’t have to go on suicide missions. You were okay.

“Then, you entered the Academy and suddenly, I couldn’t protect you anymore.” Kakashi croaks out as he scrunches his eyes closed, “I couldn’t face the possibility of losing you so, I left. Like a coward.”

Naruto doesn’t say anything else so Kakashi assumes that he’s already gone and left but then he feels a pair of arms hook around his shoulders and the telltale tickle of Naruto’s hair against the side of his face.

Letting out a ragged breath, Kakashi returns the embrace, fighting back the onslaught of tears in his eyes.

“Thank you for taking care of me.” Naruto murmurs into his ear.

“Thank you for not dying.”

#naruto #~fic~#uzumaki naruto #hatake kakashi #kakanaru #ish #only if you want it to be

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robininthelabyrinth · 4 years

Note

If it's not a plot point, how did HuiSang go back in time? MingJue used his saber as an anchor, but HuaiSang didn't have his yet?

part 3 of Same River Twice (ao3) (time travel Nie bros) or tumblr part 1, part 2

Being four years old again was a lot harder than Nie Huaisang thought it would be.

In fairness, he hadn’t expected to go back that far, but he supposed it wasn’t really up to him – if he’d wanted to have more control over his destination, he should have used the ritual on the saber that belonged to him.

But Aituan - dear Aituan, good Aituan, his Aituan - wasn’t strong enough to support the ritual by itself, not after all those years of playing happy paperweight instead of cultivating. It was Nie Huaisang’s neglect; he had let Aituan’s spirit grow kind but not strong, because someone should be able to be that way, the way he’d once thought he himself could be under his brother’s protection.

No, Nie Huaisang had known that if he wanted to do this crazy stupid thing, the only one that could help him was Baxia.

Bazia, who had grown strong beyond her years with the blood of evildoers, who had always indulged him, who adored Nie Mingjue more than was usual even for a saber of their bloodline –

He missed Aituan.

After the end of it all, when he no longer needed to hide his true face away behind a mask of incompetence, he had started to carry Aituan with him at all times, the way his brother had always wanted him to, and so that meant that his long-neglected saber had been by his side when he’d knelt before his brother’s tomb to begin the ritual. And when the forbidden array began to tear his body apart, Baxia indifferent to anything but the result, Nie Huaisang could feel his saber’s spirit reaching out and wrapping around his own spirit to protect him from the pain –

He’d thought that he might see Aituan again, when and if he woke up in the past, but it was not to be: right now, he’s only four. Aituan wouldn’t even have been forged yet, surely, or at most its still-unformed spirit would be lingering in a dormant not-yet-finished state in the special forges reserved for the clan, hidden deep within the Unclean Realm.

He missed Aituan. He hadn’t thought he would, given how casually he had always left it behind, but he did; he missed it dreadfully.

But it was still worth it to come back.

It had been worth it even just for the chance to try to come back. They had all been so broken, after everything that had happened. Nie Huaisang had had no choice but to avenge his brother, no choice but to use the only means available to him when no one would have believed him, his own hand too weak to lift the saber to do the job that needed to be done. He was a Nie, when all was said and done, and even the world itself was insufficient a sacrifice to lay before his brother’s memorial tablet.

He did not regret his choices.

And yet – the result, in the end, was too much, too bitter to swallow. Lan Xichen’s eventual death at his own hand, when the guilt became too much for him and seclusion proved no remedy, had destroyed Lan Wangji, and even light-hearted Wei Wuxian had not been able to continue to smile once he realized that the injuries incurred at Guanyin Temple, both physical and mental, had damaged Jiang Cheng permanently, a decline the other man had hidden away out of either love or spite or both until it was too late to fix; they would never reconcile in that life, and the tragedy of the two heroes of Yunmeng sealed forever in stone.

Out of an entire generation of the Great Sects, Nie Huaisang was the only one left standing, and he had been broken into sharp jagged pieces so long ago that he didn’t really count.

He did not regret his choices - but in a better world, those choices would never need to be made.

He would make sure it went better, this time. Not just for himself, but for all the others, and most of all for his brother, who had only ever wanted to be righteous, to fight evil and help the innocent, and who died because nobody had listened to him, just the way they hadn’t listened to Nie Huaisang in all those years of walking alone on his road of vengeance. His brother, who loved him when he hadn’t been worthy of his love; his brother, who deserved the world and more.

His brother, who he sometimes even thought –

There’d been a moment there, when he’d been watching his brother train, that he’d had the crazy idea that Nie Mingjue had come back, too – that the burden of the future was not Nie Huaisang’s alone to bear.

It had been when his brother had done that maneuver, the one he’d liked so much during the Sunshot Campaign, and Nie Huaisang had been the only living being who had known that the reason he’d trained the trick so hard in his youth was not because it was hard to block or because it granted the mercy of a quick death but rather purely because it looked awesome. Nie Mingjue had thrown his saber and recalled it with a flick of his wrist, and he’d grinned as if he hadn’t a care in the world and –

And that’s when Nie Huaisang ruined it by bursting into tears.

Because he was four, and four year olds didn’t have good internal emotional regulation, apparently. He’d thought at first that it would be an advantage to be so young – who would suspect a child barely old enough to wear proper clothing of scheming in the shadows? – but being four had turned out to be much trickier to manage than he had thought.

All of his feelings were so much, so immediate; it was as if the emotions of an adult were simply too large to fit into his child’s frame. Sadness, however minor or fleeting, was enough to utterly consume him, making rational thought impossible; a single pang of hunger was the same as starvation; and even joy –

His brother abandoned his training for him in a heartbeat, found and gave him a fan to amuse him, carried him around all day in his arms even though it meant he’d had to report for punishment – he said that Nie Huaisang would never be a burden to him, that he could live the life he wanted, no matter what, and that in the end his brother would always be there to hold up the world for him –

No, his brother couldn’t have come back in time with him.

His suspicions (surely even a talent of Nie Mingjue’s caliber wouldn’t have learned a trick like that so early, and so well?) simply had no basis in reality, a remnant of the paranoia he had cultivated in his heart as a guard against Jin Guangyao’s treachery. It was only Nie Huaisang’s fantasies tricking him, letting him dream that he was hearing the words that he would have given his left arm to hear when it was too late.

After all, none of the things Nie Mingjue had said were by themselves unusual – even by age four, everyone knew that Nie Huaisang wouldn’t amount to much of a talent, born as he was with weak muscle tone and barely any cultivation at all; they knew he was lazy and unmotivated, and more than likely to turn out to be nothing more than a good-for-nothing. Only Nie Mingjue had remained steadfast in believing that Nie Huaisang could make something of himself, valuing him when he hadn’t even valued himself.

No, it wasn’t so strange that his brother would say such things to him. It was only with Nie Huaisang’s knowledge of the future that the words seemed to be more than mere encouragement, that they seemed to be aimed directly at absolving him of his future worthlessness, forgiving him for having been the anchor around his brother’s legs instead of a support –

His brother couldn’t have come back with him. He couldn’t have, because if he knew what Nie Huaisang had done in his name, all those dirty tricks in the dark that were just like what he’d so disdained in Jin Guangyao, then he wouldn’t have said those words full of love, wouldn’t have thought them, wouldn’t have –

Nie Mingjue must never know, Nie Huaisang swore once again in his heart. He’d be careful, hide his tracks, make sure that his moves in the shadow couldn’t be detected by anyone at all; his brother that longed to be righteous would never need to know that his little didi that he treasured so much wasn’t worthy of his love.

He’d fix things, make them better, and Nie Mingjue would never know that things had ever gone any other way. Nie Huaisang would bear the burden alone, just as he had those many years, but this time he would have his brother by his side.

It would be worth it.

Still, being four was hard. Nie Huaisang had started making moves right away, but his ability to manipulate people seemed to be significantly impaired – or maybe it was only that he’d underestimated the effect of his changes, that he’d acted before he’d fully figured out everyone’s personalities, and so ended up changing things more than he meant to.

For one thing, he’d never meant for Nie Mingjue to be the one to go to Yingchuan.

Nie Huaisang had used Wei Wuxian for his own purposes in his previous life, and he wouldn’t have been able to avenge his brother without him – he owed him karma, and such debts ought to be repaid as swiftly as possible. He’d figured that sending some Nie sect retainers to the area would be a good way to do that; even if they couldn’t save his parents, they should at least notice that there was a little boy in town waiting for his parents to come back from a night-hunt. At best, Nie Huaisang had figured on Wei Wuxian having a few extra years at the Lotus Pier, and maybe avoid developing that dog phobia of his.

He hadn’t expected Nie Mingjue to volunteer to go, though he supposed his brother was twelve, and therefore reckless and a little bit stupid in a way that Nie Huaisang probably shouldn’t find as adorable as he did, being only four himself. He definitely wasn’t expecting his brother to come back and tell him that he’d not only managed to save Wei Wuxian’s parents but that they were coming to Qinghe for some reason.

That was his brother in a nutshell, though. Typical overachiever.

Nie Huaisang wasn’t sure exactly how this would change things. He hadn’t intended on making such large changes, as it would swiftly render his knowledge of the future useless, but on the other hand, the future had turned out quite so badly, and after all in the end he knew the important things. He knew who was a good person and who wasn’t, he knew about the war that would come, he knew what tricks to be afraid of – no, it was better this way.

This way, he wouldn’t be tempted to blindly rely on a future that might change; this way, he wouldn’t risk the same future happening again, wouldn’t allow tragedies to take place when they didn’t have to. Instead, he’d do what he’d always done and react to things as they happened, turning each event to his own advantage.

Even if he wasn’t quite sure what possible advantage he could get from Wei Wuxian as a young child.

“Is it nice there?”

Nie Huaisang refocused and looked at his brother, who’d apparently finished his training for the day. It was so strange to see him with cheeks still rounded by lingering baby fat and Baxia disproportionate in her size; if he hadn’t later grown into a giant, he would have been seen as having been a bit too ambitious when he wielded her. “What was that, da-ge?”

“I asked you if it’s nice there,” Nie Mingjue repeated as he settled down next to Nie Huaisang in the shady part of the training field. “Wherever it is that your mind flew off to. It must be very interesting to keep you occupied for so long.”

Nie Huaisang ignored the teasing and immediately wiggled over, putting his head in his brother’s lap. His brother indulged him, moving Baxia to his other knee as he inspected her for any nicks that might need to be sharpened out later.

His brother always indulged him.

“I was just daydreaming,” he said, and it was even mostly true. The line between daydreaming and active scheming was a very fine one.

“Still thinking about maps?” his brother asked. “I know I said you were too young to take the ones out of the library, but maybe we can go to the market to buy some cheaper ones…”

Nie Huaisang shook his head, feeling guilty. He didn’t really need a map. After all, a map couldn’t tell him what he needed to know: he couldn’t be sure that Meng Yao was in Yunping City right now, even though that was ultimately where he ended up. And anyway, even with a map, it was impossible for him to find a way to go there now, as a four year old – he could do many things by mail without being noticed, but even he couldn’t think of a way to mail order a whore and her son – and even a cheap map was an expensive purchase for a twelve year old with a limited allowance.

“I just like thinking about other places, that’s all,” he temporized. “You went to Yingchaun – what was that like?”

“It’s not too far beyond our borders, so it was mostly the same, I guess?” Nie Mingjue said, sounding a little helpless. “Same animals, plants, weather…they say the further that way you go, the spicier the food, but we must not have gone far enough, since I didn’t notice a difference.”

“What about the people?” Nie Huaisang said, deciding to try to get more information about Wei Wuxian instead since he already knew that asking Nie Mingjue to act as a travelogue was an exercise doomed to frustration. “You said someone from Yingchuan was coming – are they from the sect there?”

“The sect – Yingchuan Wang? Certainly not. They’re barely a sect as it is; they were servants in Qishan once, but then either got thrown out or left in a huff and now they eke out an existence as a medium-sized fish in a small pond. They send their children to be servants in Qishan whenever they can manage it, and still ask for help from us on the sly because they can’t afford to deal with their problems themselves. No one of note there.”

That wasn’t entirely true, Nie Huaisang thought; after all they had produced the horror that was Wang Lingjiao. He wonder if there was some way to make use of her. She was about their age, and she hadn’t yet committed any of the atrocities she later would. Of course, one did need to account for the trouble that was her personality…

“– sure you’ll like him,” Nie Mingjue was saying, and then he grimaced. “It’s his parents I don’t quite know what to do with.”

Nie Huaisang sympathized more than Nie Mingjue would ever realize. Wei Changze and Cangse Sanren had excellent reputations as cultivators, but beyond that he knew nothing about them but their son – they were wild cards, their impact on the state of play totally unpredictable.

“Father has charged me with taking care of them while they’re here, because I’m the one who invited them,” Nie Mingjue said, and reached up to rub the space between his brows the way he always did when he was stressed. “It’s not like we’re doing anything special with them – they’re just guest cultivators, not joining the sect – but at the same time…I don’t want to make a bad impression.”

He didn’t say whether it was on their guests or on their father.

A moment later, he nudged Nie Huaisang a little. “You’ll help me, right?”

Nie Huaisang would burn the world down for his brother.

However, practically speaking, he was currently four.

“Of course, da-ge,” he said. “How can I help? What can I do?”

“You,” Nie Mingjue said with satisfaction, “can be a subject of conversation.”

Nie Huaisang had the distinct feeling that what his brother meant was that he planned to throw him to be a cute child at their guests every time the conversation hit an awkward point, but surely he wouldn’t –

It was exactly what he did.

Nie Huaisang really wished he could blame this on his brother being twelve, but honestly his brother had always been a little like that. He’d only ever gotten away with his terrible social skills and even more terrible sense of humor because he was tall as a mountain, with a reputation for being taciturn (in large part due to his following the rule of “if you have nothing good to say, say nothing”), and of course there was always Baxia adding some intimidation effect.

It was a bit of a start to realize that in some ways, the Headshaker had been better at some of the parts of being Sect Leader than his beloved older brother.

It was not, however, a realization that Nie Huaisang had a lot of time to dwell on, because he had Wei Wuxian to deal with – and if he’d thought that the other boy was a handful when they were teenagers, it was nothing compared to him as a small excitable child visiting a new place for the first time.

Some things Nie Huaisang had expected: Wei Wuxian was bright, lively, intelligent to the point of brilliance, talented at whatever he picked up, and at all times inclined towards mischief.

He hadn’t, for some reason, expected the overwhelming hyperactive curiosity about – everything.

Wei Wuxian was five years old, really five, and he had some interesting gaps in his knowledge base.

Complicated talisman craftsmanship? No problem.

How to buy paper in the marketplace? No clue.

The particulars of setting up camp in the middle of a forest? No problem.

How to deal with servants? No clue.

He could guide himself at night using constellations, but he couldn’t name all five Great Sects; he could cook for himself but didn’t know how to order food from a restaurant; he could sing songs but he’d never played catch-me or hide-and-seek; he could play bait for a vicious yao but had never met a cat –

That last one was a bit of a problem, since the Unclean Realm had a bit of a stray cat problem.

Well, it wasn’t a problem at the moment, since Wei Wuxian loved the cats, but it was going to be a problem when one inevitably tried to claw his face off when he tried to pet them more than they felt like accepting.

It’d probably end up being Nie Huaisang’s problem, too, since Wei Wuxian liked to stick to him no matter where he went – or rather, he liked to stick to him, follow him around, get bored, and drag him off to do something else. Usually something childish (understandable, since he was a child), and extremely distracting from what Nie Huaisang should be focusing on.

…a great deal of fun, though.

Nie Huaisang’s initial fondness for Wei Wuxian had, he would admit, been primarily nostalgic in nature, but it wasn’t very long before the other boy swept him away with all the same things that he’d enjoyed back in the Cloud Recesses: he was spirited, witty, and clever, a bundle of trouble and inventor of adventures, and he made even the most boring things a lot more interesting.

They ran around the Unclean Realm, pretending to be explorers who happened upon a mysterious realm; they went to the market and bought one of every treat; they volunteered to feed the ducks and pigs and chickens; they pretended to be vicious beasts and practiced their prowling and hunting on long-suffering Nie disciples; they climbed trees and crawled around the caves; they made their way into the laundry and tried on everyone’s clothing –

At any rate, Nie Huaisang had always been lazy and carefree by nature, and old habits were hard to resist. He was still young enough that most of his day was free and excess training was discouraged to avoid distorting his musculature, and well, he was four. Everything was funny to a four year old.

Funny, and very distracting.

Still, it couldn’t go on forever. He had scheming to do.

“Da-ge,” he whined, taking advantage of his current size to crawl into his brother’s lap. “Da-ge, he’s always around.”

“Says the one who’s leading him into trouble half the time.”

“Da-ge! I don’t! He’s the one doing the leading!”

His brother smiled. “Is a leader the one at the front of the battlefield or the one whispering plans into his ears?”

“…they’re only my idea about half the time. At most.”

Nie Mingjue laughed. “If he’s really bothering you, I can talk to his parents.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Nie Huaisang said quickly. He still didn’t know what to make of Wei Wuxian’s parents.

He’d tried studying them with an eye towards what he knew about Wei Wuxian as an adult, but the resemblance was blurry at best. Wei Changze was a gentleman, talented and charming; he always had a smile on his face, his eyes curved a little as if he was always laughing at some internal joke, and more often than not there was something lighthearted on his lips – there was definitely something of the future Wei Wuxian there. But it would be wrong to think of them as too similar: unlike his son, Wei Changze was prudent and thoughtful, contemplative almost the point of being reserved, cognizant of the dangerous undercurrents that made up sect politics; he wasn’t arrogant, and that made him nothing like Wei Wuxian at all.

No, the arrogance was all from Cangse Sanren.

She was a fierce woman, teeth bared whether in smile or grimace and hand often lingering by the whip tucked into her belt, somehow seeming both straightforward and yet mysterious – intense, arrogant, uncaring of all convention, she would let nothing in the world stand between her and her principles.

Nie Mingjue liked her on sight, of course.

Nie Huaisang was a bit more worried about the way she sometimes remarked about the ridiculousness of human law, usually during one of the enthusiastic philosophical discussions she’d been having with Nie Mingjue during their occasional spars – Nie Huaisang supervised only once, then realized that four-year-olds shouldn’t be worrying about their blood pressure and also that Cangse Sanren was probably good enough to not murder an over-enthusiastic twelve-year-old in the middle of his own sect. He’d mentioned it subtly over breakfast at one point, but that’d only gotten Nie Mingjue started up with their father about the differences between human and natural law when what Nie Huaisang had actually meant was that he wasn’t entirely sure Cangse Sanren thought of herself as a human.

She also had a way of sometimes looking at Nie Huaisang with a strange sort of smile, as if she knew, and ever since then Nie Huaisang had avoided her as much as possible.

“Well, if you don’t want him bothering you all the time, and you don’t want me to talk to his parents about it, what do you want to do?” Nie Mingjue asked.

“I just think he needs other friends,” Nie Huaisang said earnestly, widening his eyes in a way that made his brother look deeply unimpressed (but also amused). “Maybe someone at a different sect, so he can spend time writing them letters.”

Not that Wei Wuxian was especially proficient at writing, which made sense for his age, but Nie Huaisang had rather a lot invested in having managed to convince Nie Mingjue that his level of writing (full words!) was normal.

“Letters,” Nie Mingjue said, looking deeply skeptical. “Who were you thinking?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Nie Huaisang lied. “Someone our age. Probably from another of the major sects, since he still needs to learn all about the way the cultivation world works…oh, I know! How about the Lan sect? Don’t they have a second young master right around our age?”

He wasn’t being very subtle, he had to admit, but practically speaking, who cared? There wasn’t anyone around to catch him at it.

And it would be truly a pity to rob Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian of their chance for an epic romance - hopefully one that would end a little more happily.

His brother frowned thoughtfully. Probably searching his memory for confirmation, since it was still another year before he met Lan Xichen for the first time, but in the end he nodded. “That’s not a bad idea. The Lan sect is known for their rules and etiquette, and that’s precisely what Wei Wuxian requires most, and he’ll definitely get along well with Lan Wangji. I’ll write to – no, I’ll speak with Father; if he approves, we may be able to set up a meeting. It wouldn’t be a bad thing to foster relations between our sects at an early age.”

“That’s a great idea!” Nie Huaisang said. It was, too – maybe he could knock some caution into Lan Xichen’s head when he was still young enough to appreciate it. “And maybe we can visit Gusu one day!”

“You and your maps,” Nie Mingjue teased. “All right, all right; I’ll see what I can do the next time Father’s back.”

There was a wrinkle in his brow at that, which Nie Huaisang couldn’t blame him for it: their father was extremely busy at the moment, off dealing with Qishan aggression, and that meant they only ever saw him occasionally, and even then only at breakfast. It must be uncomfortable for Nie Mingjue, who loved their father dearly, and for Nie Huaisang, well…

He’d been back in this old body for a month now, adjusting slowly, and the one thing he couldn’t quite deal with was their father, as he was now: a good man, as temperamental as any Nie but in the main part thoughtful and steady.

Nothing like the monster he remembered.

It wasn’t fair to judge a man by what he was like following a deliberately induced qi deviation, Nie Huaisang reminded himself, just as he’d learned not to blame his brother for the lashings of his worsening temper during that period of spiritual poison. And yet – Nie Huaisang truly didn’t know what he’d do when the busy period subsided and his father came back to help guide their training.

He just didn’t remember what it was like to have a father instead of just a da-ge.

Something to worry about in the future.

For now, though, he had a pair of future lovebirds to introduce – and connections with another sect to build, so as to better gather support for the upcoming war.

Still, contrary to his expectations, the Lan sect weren’t their first visitors.

It was the Jiang.

#mdzs #nie mingjue #nie huaisang #wei wuxian #my fic #my fics #time travel nie bros #same river twice #misfits-den

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silvysartfulness · 3 years

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Puberty blockers are horrible actually. Look up the effects of Lupron, it permanently damages the body & it's insane that they're being given to little girls to "fix" their gender nonconformity. But you ship XueXiao so it's no surprise you support an abusive movement that profits off innocent ppl. I'm unsuscribing your shoddy fanfic goodbye

I believe, above all things, in compassion.

I believe in engaging in good faith, in genuinely trying to understand others, their experiences and point of view. I believe in second chances.

I believe in choice and agency. That isn't saying that I condone any medical procedure unless it's proven safe, and wanted. But I do believe in offering the choice – the more it's normalized, talked about, the greater the chances to improve on any branch of healthcare, dedicating research to finding better ways to get the needed results with fewer side effects.

The concept of puberty blockers is to grant that choice – to not have the choice made for you. The same way no person should be forced to go through an unwanted pregnancy – the toll of a body strongly affected by hormones, going through irreversible changes – no one should have to commit to the gender experience puberty will result in, if they're not ready for that commitment.

Is that not a wondrous thing, to be given time enough to make carefully thought-through and informed choices? To be allowed to grow mature, secure enough to know what one really wants, before embracing either choice? To just be allowed to wait?

I have no doubt that your strong reaction comes from a place of genuine care and wanting to stand up for vulnerable people. And that care is a good thing! To hold the medical field accountable, make sure procedures are safe, ensure any patient's consent to treatment – these are vital things!

But trans and non gender conforming people are a very vulnerable group, and they are in need of protection, too. To be allowed simply to make those informed choices without others interfering, claiming to know what's best for them. Protecting that right is the opposite of being abusive – it's being supportive. Just letting people choose for themselves.

Do shipping preferences say a lot about a person? Maybe. I couldn't say.

Like I said above, I believe in compassion, in second chances. I believe people can come back from fucking up, learn to do better.

I have been hurt. I have my trauma-credentials. Telling my life's story, I've made two separate professional therapists cry. I still choose compassion.

I'm not saying people should let themselves be abused, or forgive those who abused them. But I do believe no matter how badly you've fucked up, no matter what bad things you've done, you're still a human being with innate worth. Maybe not worthy of any victim's forgiveness, unless it's freely and willingly given, but worthy of life, the chance to try again, and maybe get things better the second, or third, or twentieth time around.

We all mess up sometimes. What a hard, brutal world it would be, if any mistake or misstep or act of petty spite had to be punished in kind!

So I choose compassion. I try to be understanding, offer support where I can, strength to those who need it, knowing that for the short blink of existence in the long chain of humanity that we walk on this Earth, we can at least try to make things a little better just by being kind.

As for my fanfic, I'm happy and honoured you decided to give it a chance, despite one of the main pairings not being one to your liking. That said, if a ship or fic - or tumblr blog for that matter - makes you feel uncomfortable, then stepping away and unsubscribing is the wise thing to do, taking care of yourself and your needs first. There are so many talented writers and amazing stories out there!

We're here for such a short time, every single life something unique and precious, little pinpoints of light in the endless vastness of space and time.

We all deserve to find things to enjoy for ourselves, too. ♥

#asksilvy #Anonymous

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softersinned-arc · 2 years

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some things to remember about astoria, reposted & adapted from my old blog:

astoria is extremely impressionable. her adaptability is one of her greatest strengths but it comes in large part as a result of a trauma that essentially resets her personality at a young age. she spends so much time trying to make herself invulnerable that she doesn’t really build much of an identity beyond “surviving.”

it’s not that she doesn’t have a personality; she does. it’s that she’s spent all of her formative teenage years being passed around to be someone else’s responsibility, even if it’s done with the best intentions. as a result, astoria learns how to become the person that people around her want her to be; in a lot of cases it’s a conscious manipulation, but even so, she does (especially as an adult) start to genuinely take on certain things (like a moral code) from the important people in her life, if they’re important enough to her that she wants them to be permanent.

she is charming and that makes her a really good liar. even if she seems very sweet, she isn’t. astoria lies pretty regularly, she has no qualms about manipulating the truth or circumstances to get what she wants, and she is very good at making people either think that giving her what she wants is their idea, or at presenting people with an illusion of what they want so she can get hers in return.

astoria is spectacularly shippable because she’s so adaptable, but there are very few cases in which a romantic partner will make her an actively better person.

in terms of physicality, astoria is more focused on using her size to her advantage than physical strength. she takes ballet classes from about four years old to fourteen, then does cheerleading from sixteen to eighteen, then takes up aerial silks, starts dance classes again (mostly modern), and takes pole dancing lessons. she takes some self defense classes (mostly krav maga). she has a high pain tolerance, and she’s stubborn, but unless she’s fighting dirty, she’s rarely going to win a fist fight. (dc is probably the biggest exception.) her best chance for winning is striking before anyone expects it, or playing up how injured and small she is and using that to her advantage.

astoria has a soft spot for abuse survivors, since she is one herself. she can spot survivor-specific behaviors a mile away, and she’s extremely protective once she does spot that. nobody stepped in to save her, so if she can help someone else… it’s one of the very, very, very few things about her that is actively good.

she is extremely vain, and often with good reason. she’s a very cute kid but she grows into a striking woman, and she uses that to her advantage whenever she can. her style of dress is often a little understated — dark colors and neutrals in flattering cuts, close-fitting, things that display wealth without being really ostentatious. this does not apply to shoes: she loves a good louboutin. if she wears bright colors, it’s for a purpose. astoria pays as much attention to her sartorial choices as she does to every action she takes.

some strengths: astoria is a magical powerhouse, who doesn’t believe in limits or rules; astoria is extremely clever, and good at reading the people around her while making them think it’s safe to underestimate her; astoria is extremely good at getting what she wants and making someone think it was their idea in the first place.

some weaknesses: astoria is proud enough that she has a hard time spotting when she’s outmatched; astoria is morally bankrupt unless she’s been influenced otherwise; astoria doesn’t recognize her own limits in a realistic manner and as such has a tendency to get herself into some nasty limits that do more damage than they would if she were more careful; astoria does not know how to accept a loss gracefully and will push beyond what makes sense to win; astoria self-sabotages a lot of things, including relationships.

what it comes down to is this: she is a deeply flawed character who is, at the absolute best and only under very specific circumstances, capable of being an antihero. she is, more often than not, a villain. she is intended to be flawed, and morally bankrupt, and complicated, and while her backstory can explain some of her actions, it does not excuse them.

#i. she had a marvelous time ruining everything. ( about )

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justasparkwritings · 3 years

Text

Peace: Coming of Age

Pairing: Jungkook X Reader

Genre: Angst / Slice of Life

Rating: PG15

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: Swearing

Summary: Jungkook takes his first steps in creating a life for himself.

Listening: peace by Taylor Swift

Peace Master List

Jungkook paced the room, the grey walls agitating him as he searched for answers. He’d filmed the video five times. Three with a hoodie on, two without. He kept refilming to perfect his vocals, or at least that’s what he told himself. Perfectionism was easier to grapple with than baring his soul to millions. Was he ready to show the world what he’d done?

Jungkook had spent the last third of his life in the spotlight. The articles, photos, videos, all captured him growing up. He went from a fresh-faced tween barely through puberty to a full-fledged man. He had grown in front of their eyes, finished high school, and debuted with a band that had captured the world’s attention. He had been taken under the wings of Jin and his five other hyungs. They had watched him struggle, both academically and professionally. They had guided him through the drastic changes in his life, from leaving his family to relentless dance practices and endless vocal lessons. They guided him when he was falling apart, and through their love he had grown into the man he could happily say he is. He’d taken little parts of their personalities and combined them into his own. It was hard to tell when JK ended and the six hyungs began.

Jungkook hadn’t told the rest of BTS of his plans, of what he wanted to do in order to feel that he had completed his metamorphosis. He was cagey, dodging glances and prying questions. He was private, but there wasn’t anything he couldn’t tell them. Except this. It wasn’t until they had snuck up on him one day and caught him reading an article about the significance of tattoos in western culture that they grew concerned that he would taint his flawless skin.

Hoseok sat him down first, tone damning, asking him what he intended to do, and why would he choose to ruin his body? Through the years Jungkook had become accustomed to Ho-Seok’s aversion to anything that would harm or change his physical form. Dying his hair was the closest thing he would do, and even that felt like he was desecrating a sacred temple. He didn’t pierce his ears, he certainly would not get tattoos, and though he had an unusually sunny disposition, body modification of any kind made Ho-Seok’s skin crawl. He respected his members decisions to pierce their ears, two, three, five times, but him? No thank you. He had thought that tattoos were always going to be off limits, even when years prior Jungkook had expressed his desire, on camera, to stain his skin. No member had committed to something so permanent. Piercings close, hair can be dyed back, but this?

Hoseok couldn’t tell if he was mad at JK for recklessly ruining himself, or worried that his decision would endanger the rest of them.

So, he pled his case, and a day or so later, Namjoon tried to talk any sense into JK. He knew it was no use, but as leader he was mandated to speak to him.

“Why do you want to do this?” Namjoon asked. They were seated outside, beers in both their hands.

“Do you feel like yourself, 100% of the time?” Jungkook countered, glancing at the fading sun.

“90% of the time, yes, I do.” Namjoon responded.

“And you feel comfortable in who you are?”

“Why are you interrogating me?” Namjoon stared at his golden maknae. He had raised this boy, crafted and melded him into the man sitting in front of him. Had it been too much?

“You write most of our lyrics, you express your emotions.”

“Yes, and I understand how you’re feeling,”

“Do you? I am me trying to navigate this life that I somehow signed up for when I was a child. I have had to conform every day of my life. I have struggled to find my identity, to showcase who I am, without ever having the time to grow or discover myself. Now I’m a man, who doesn’t know any life outside of constant cameras and the six of you guarding me. What’s yours is mine and what’s mine is yours, but what if there’s nothing of me? What if they’ve taken it all?”

“You signed up for this Jungkook,” Namjoon felt defensive. His moves, silent and unseen, had pushed Jungkook to this position. His invisible strings had carved him from a child to an adult, his guidance had constructed the golden boy. Namjoon had nurtured Jungkook to be strong in his convictions and fierce at heart. He encouraged his hobbies, to obsession at times, and pared space for him to study and learn, encouraging him to speak English. Didn’t Jungkook know himself better than any members did?

“The devils in the details, Namjoon,” He countered.

“So, what, to feel like yourself you need to permanently decorate your skin?” Namjoon felt the anger rising. Big Hit would surely blame him for this.

“It’s a part of me, a part of me that I am trying to hold onto. I don’t want to hide part of myself because I’m being told I’m supposed to. I want to be me, I want to make choices for myself,” Jungkook’s passion was evident in the grip he had placed on his glass.

“And what if that part of you changes?” Namjoon wanted to know.

“Are you still the same person you were when we started?” Jungkook asked.

“No, I’ve grown, and I’ve learned a lot,” Namjoon sat back and thought about the challenges he’d overcome in the time BTS had been together.

“Then give me the space to do the same, hyung, please,” Jungkook pleaded.

Namjoon nodded, recognizing that molding Jungkook into the perfect band member had done more damage than he realized, the cracks were beginning to form. When Jungkook had joined, RM and Seokjin had been placed as his guardians. They were to protect him, keep him focused, help him grow. He was a child, a baby, compared to the older two. His insecurity and shyness had tried to swallow him, and would’ve if not for the doting care the members had given him. Namjoon had, in a word, overstepped. His grip on Jungkook’s life was impenetrable to the point that sometimes it was hard to know where Namjoon ended and Jungkook began. He wasn’t raising Jungkook, he was manipulating him. The devil had always been in the details, at the hands of Big Hit, that devil was Namjoon.

“Jin’s supposed to try and knock some sense into you…” Namjoon said, standing.

“What’s he going to say that you and Hosoek-hyung haven’t?” Jungkook asked.

“I don’t know, but listen to him,” Namjoon reminded the maknae to respect his elder, something he had thrown away when speaking with Joon.

Namjoon left, leaving JK to sit in his thoughts. He didn’t know when Jin was planning on showing up, and he wasn’t sure he could handle another confrontation and berating. Jungkook was lost in his thoughts, his glass slowly emptying when Jin strode in, keys in hand.

“Let’s go eat,” He said. Jungkook nodded, following him.

As they sat at their usual table, drinks on their way, Jin wasted no time diving in.

“They’ve all been hard on you?” Seokjin asked.

“Yes,” Jungkook responded.

“Well, what do you want me to say?” Jin questioned.

“That you support me,” Jungkook’s gaze never strayed from the empty spot in front of his glass.

“What does management say?” Jin asked, ignoring Jungkook’s suggestion.

“That they can’t technically stop me, but I’ll always be covered. No t-shirts on tour, music videos, anything. If everyone’s in a tank top, I have to be in a tank top with a jacket or long sleeves.”

“Even in summer?” Jin questioned.

“Even then,” Jungkook answered.

“And you’re okay with that?” Jin wondered.

“Yes,”

“Alright, have you thought about ARMY?”

“I can’t imagine they’d be mad at me,” Jungkook said, glancing at Jin. Jin was calm. Jin was always calm, particularly when it came to heady conversations about the direction Jungkook was taking.

“Okay, if you’re sure,” Jin left it at that. He quickly moved to ask Jungkook what he wanted to order, their usual banter resuming.

Jungkook sat in the tattoo artists main chair, arm exposed, hand at the ready. The artist asked if he was without a doubt positive he wanted ink decorating his dominate appendage, and he nodded, telling them that each item stood for something. As the artist began, he recounted why.

“The inverted V is for Taehyung, that’s his nickname. He’s funny, and charismatic. The most indecisive person. He is one of the best dancers, and just makes me laugh all the time. He comforts me when I’m upset and is always making sure that I’m okay. RM is for Namjoon, he’s the eternal leader. He’s wise and thinks before he acts. But he’s clumsy. He always pushes me to think deeper, to find the emotion that a song needs, or to remind me to slow down when I’m pushing myself too hard. RM’s our guiding light. M is also for Yoongi, who understands the parts of me that I sometimes think no one does, but he also doesn’t understand the fundamental parts of me… The Y completes ARMY, I am nothing without them.”

The phrase had become common place, BTS is nothing without ARMY. They eat, sleep and breathe ARMY. Who are they if ARMY doesn’t stand beside them, encouraging them on?

ARMY was the reason for his success, but they were also the thorn on his rose. Army watched every move he made, every note he hit, every smile cracked. They’d glommed onto him immediately. Isn’t Jungkook so cute? Did you see how Jungkook dances to Boy in Luv? Have you seen his smile? They cheered when he succeeded and picked him up when he fell. As much as the members had raised JK, he recognized that ARMY was the reason he had to be raised by his hyungs in the first place.

Being raised by people other than your parents is an odd experience. Leaving home and forging a new path without so much as a safety net below would be scary to anyone, but particularly for a child who hadn’t experienced much outside of his home. Jungkook had talent, anyone could see it. He had potential, because he had potential, Big Hit had taken a chance on him. They had molded him and groomed him into a superstar. So much so that by age 23, a song dedicated to him negotiating his stardom with quality of life would become a sexual anthem. Big Hit’s ownership of his existence had sent him into many a tailspin. He compensated the only way he could: working himself to extreme exhaustion and spending nights drunk in the dorms. The other members addressed it delicately, but when his back was turned, they spent countless hours discussing the “problem with Jungkook”.

Perfectionism is often a sign of OCD, a way to control what feels uncontrollable, a way to manage anxiety and stress through precise and repetitive habits. If practice was four hours, Jungkook danced eight. If it took Jimin ten takes to nail an eight count of vocals, Jungkook took twice that. He practiced diligently, sweating through layers and layers, never satisfied until his body gave out. He worked out seven days a week, often hours long sessions not including time with trainers. He was obsessed with his physic and how he could make it stronger. BTS often worried and tried delicately to address their concerns. Jungkook wouldn’t listen, until he blew his heel out an needed stitches. What was meant to be a wake up call ended up giving him more focus and increasing his desire to be perfect.

“Perfect for who?” Suga had asked during an intense discussion of Jungkook’s workaholic tendencies. Jungkook stared at him, Suga, who hates working out, hates other people, and would be content to sleep for days on end, was asking him a stupid question. He turned to Ho-Seok, who nodded.

“Perfect for ARMY, perfect for him,” Ho-Seok had responded.

Hoseok and Jimin both nodded. The three of them formed the dance line, the strongest dancers with Taehyung closing in at #4. Together they banked hundreds of practice hours, innumerable tapings and work ups by the medical team, and were responsible for BTS’ dance routines coming together. They bore the brunt of the work, and their bodies, though young, managed the wear and tear. Ho-Seok worked hard, but Jungkook worked harder.

Namjoon listened to every conversation about Jungkook with ears peeled, writing down any information he needed. If there was a problem with Jungkook, it would soon fall to Namjoon to correct, though his perfectionism had been a drug Namjoon had heavily pushed.

“What’s the J for?” The tattoo artist asked, pulling Jungkook out of his thoughts.

“That’s for Jin, Jimin and J-Hope,” He responded, looking down at the work being done on his body.

“They’re your elders?”

“Yes, Namjoon and Seokjin raised me. They’re all my brothers, but Namjoon and Jin helped me study, they encouraged me, bought me food and made sure I was spending enough time on studies and training. Jin drove me everywhere before I could drive myself, and he spent years teaching me how to be a good person, and a good man. Jimin’s a terror, and Ho-Seok is the only one who understands my drive.”

“The plus signs tie you together?”

“Yes,”

“The heart? And the symbol?”

“ARMY will know.”

Jungkook had waited a few days before displaying his ink to BTS. They were skeptical and unsure how they liked what he had done to his right arm. They were honored he had chosen his hand to honor them and concerned what it meant for him going forward.

Jungkook wasn’t ready for the world to see, and neither was management. He spent the first few months with band aids on his hand until his ink was healed, then layers and layers of make-up.

As he paced in the gray room, a cover of Never Not waiting to upload, he decided to honor himself, to honor his heart, and post the video where his tattoos were exposed. Management had said he could share them when he was ready, and it would be at that point that they stopped covering them in make-up, except in specific situations where his ink would be a detriment to the group. He took a deep breath, like his ink, this choice was permanent.

Once the dust of his ink settled, through a few poor choices and copious empty liquor bottles, he found himself out in Echo Park. A stranger had commented on his ink, and Jungkook’s mind wound back to the conversation he’d had with the tattoo artist about them. His tattoos meant something to him, and their meaning intensified every day.

This is why, on a chance encounter in a low-light restaurant in Echo Park, Jungkook had been so taken with yours. The delicate ink on the back of your arm, the art creeping up your calf sent a shock through him. Who were you, and what did these symbols mean? He cautiously went up to you at the bar, nodding at the bartender who asked for his ID immediately. He flushed. Should he abandon ship?

You turned and smiled. It was blinding.

“Hi, I noticed your tattoos,” He said, thankful he had spent the past few years working on his English.

“Oh,” You were unsure how to respond.

“They’re really beautiful,” He said, his cheeks flushing again. Having spent his youth in Big Hits control, flirting wasn’t a game he knew how to play.

“Thank you,” You responded, your cheeks turning rosy.

“Can I buy you a drink?” He asked, right eyebrow raising. You smiled at the quirk.

“Yes, and you can tell me about yours,” You said, already making sense of the ink in front of you, and the man it belonged to.

“I’m Jungkook,” He said, extending the same hand you had been admiring.

“I’m Y/N,” You said, extending yours to shake.

Jungkook swore the earth began to quake at that very second, your skin meeting his for the first time, your smiles blinding the patrons of the restaurant. Everything melted away as the heat from your bodies glued you together. It was in the moment after, when you had unwillingly returned his hand to him that he realized his coming of age had come and gone, he had transitioned into a man, ink and all.

Next: Wasting Your Honor

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grailfinders · 3 years

Text

Fate and Phantasms #132: Mordred (Rider)

It’s surf’s up on today’s Fate and Phantasms, but instead of CGI penguins we’re making Rider Mordred! We’re bringing the big waves and some fancy footwork to keep you afloat while your enemies all sink to the bottom.

Check out his build breakdown below the cut, or his character sheet over here!

Next up: Isn’t it super weird seeing your teacher on vacation?

Race and Background

Mordred’s a Variant Human, giving him +1 Dexterity and Constitution, Nature proficiency so you’ll know when a big wave’s coming, and the Martial Adept feat for your first surfing tricks. Evasive Footwork adds you superiority die (a d6) to your AC while you move, and a Pushing Attack lets you lean into the wave when you strike, dealing 1d6 extra damage, and forcing a strength save (DC 8+proficiency+your dexterity) on the target, or they get pushed up to 15 feet away. You can use either of these maneuvers once per short rest.

Taking up surfing makes you an Athlete, giving you proficiency with Acrobatics and Athletics. (You also get land vehicle proficiency, but you could easily argue for sea vehicles instead.) You also get the Echoes of Victory feature, giving you a 50% chance of finding a fan in a city within 100 miles of your hometown who’ll give you shelter or info.

Ability Scores

If you want to stay on a surfboard for any amount of time, your Dexterity has got to be top notch. You also need a good sense of balance- that’s Wisdom. Your Constitution is also pretty good, because let’s be honest, wiping out hurts. Your Charisma isn’t bad, though it might be hard to hear you over the waves. Your Strength is pretty low: you’re not weak, but it’s hard to get leverage on a floating piece of wood. Finally, dump Intelligence. I don’t even need an excuse for this, int was your dump stat normally too.

Class Levels

1. Monk 1: If you want to fight people while also balancing on a piece of wood, monk’s probably your best bet, let’s just be real here. At first level you get Unarmored Defense, giving you an AC of 10 plus your dexterity mod plus your wisdom mod so you can still duke it out in a bikini. You also get Martial Arts, now all your monk attacks deal at least 1d4, and that grows as you level up. You can also use dexterity instead of strength when you hit people with monk weapons or your fists, and you can make an unarmed attack as a bonus action if you attack as your main action. There’s no rule saying you can’t kick them as you surf over them, so freestyle a bit. I hear judges love that.

You also get proficiency in Strength and Dexterity saves, as well as two monk skills. History and Religion are kind of vanilla servant skills, but you already got all the physical stuff you need from your background.

2. Monk 2: At second level, monks get Ki points each short rest equal to your monk level. You can spend these to dash, disengage, dodge, or attack twice as a bonus action. You also get Unarmored Movement, bumping up your walking speed by 10 feet. I’m not entirely sure how that affects your surfing, that’s something your DM has to figure out.

You also get a Dedicated Weapon at the end of each rest, letting you turn a nonmonk weapon into a monk weapon for your martial arts, as long as you’re proficient in it and it isn’t two-handed. I’d argue a surfboard is versatile since you can wield it no-handed, but we still need that proficiency. We’re working on it.

3. Monk 3: If you want to surf good you gotta be able to sway with the waves, and there’s no monk better at swaying than the Drunken Master. You get proficiency in Performance for cool tricks, and you also learn the Drunken Technique. When you use your flurry of blows (that’s the attack twice thing from last level), you also disengage, and your walking speed increases by 10 feet.

You can also Deflect Missiles, reducing the damage from ranged attacks and possibly throwing it back as a reaction, but that’s not really relevant.

4. Monk 4: Fourth level monks get their first Ability Score Improvement, and we’re grabbing the Tavern Brawler feat. Honestly, this feat is almost completely useless to us. The +1 to constitution or strength probably won’t help either, your unarmed strikes already use d4s, and you spend your bonus actions doing a lot more than grappling. But it does give you proficiency with improvised weapons, meaning your surfboard is a go for monkification!

You can also Slow Fall as a reaction to make your wipeouts a bit less painful.

5. Druid 1: Surfing is fun and all, but you can’t expect a wave everywhere you go, especially not inland.

Or can you? Druids can tip the scales a bit thanks to their Spells, which they cast and prepare using their Wisdom. Also, they learn Druidic. It’s a language.

You get the cantrips Frostbite and Shape Water for some early wave control (more of a splash really) and you can also cast first level spells now. Create or Destroy Water will continue the liquid theme we’ve got, and you can also cast stuff like Protection from Evil and Good and Cure Wounds if you want to play paladin.

6. Druid 2: Second level druids pick a druid circle to join, and if you want the gnarliest waves you gotta head to the Coast, brah! Specifically, the Circle of Land, which gives you a Natural Recovery, letting you regain some spell slots on a short rest once per short rest. The combined level you can gain is half your druid level, rounded up.

You can also use your Wild Shape twice per short rest to transform into a non flying, non swimming creature of CR 1/4 or less. That’s not very in character though, so you can also use it to summon a Wild Companion without using components or spell slots.

You also learn Guidance for slightly better wave riding. Turn off your targeting computer, Mordred...

7. Druid 3: Third level druid, second level spells. You also get new circle spells that you don’t need to prepare, Mirror Image and Misty Step. Copying yourself isn’t in character, but you could probably flavor the latter spell as a really cool surfboarding trick though.

You could also cast Enhance Ability for even better tricks, Pass without Trace because it’s hard to track a piece of wood, and Heat Metal. You have a history with iron and heat, and it’s not a peaceful one.

8. Monk 5: Fifth level monks get an Extra Attack each time they attack as an action, and they can turn an attack into a Stunning Strike, forcing a constitution save (DC 8+proficiency+Wisdom) or the creature they hit gets stunned for a round. You might think not being able to do stuff and giving your enemies advantage on all their attacks would make it hard to stay alive.

You’d be right.

9. Druid 4: Back in druid for a bit, your wild shape gets a bit better, giving you swimming options and creatures of CR 1/2 or lower. I mean, you can’t prove Mordred can’t turn into a frog. You also get another ASI, so bump up that Wisdom for more AC, stronger spells, and better stunning strikes.

You can also cast Create Bonfire for a summer cookout!

10. Druid 5: Fifth level druids get third level spells, and this is the level you really come into your own. Your circle spells are Water Breathing and Water Walk, which do exactly what you think they do, and they are useful, but we’re here for some other stuff.

You can also get Tidal Wave to create a 30′x10′x10′ wave, forcing a dexterity save for all creatures in that area. On a failure, creatures in the area take bludgeoning damage and get knocked prone. Also, the water spreads out afterwards-an attack and an escape route all in one!

If you’d rather a more permanent swell, Wall of Water gives you a wall. Of water. Ranged attacks through the wall are at disadvantage, fire attacks deal half damage, and cold based attacks can freeze the wall.

11. Monk 6: Sixth level monks get Ki-empowered Strikes, making your fists magical against resistances. You also get more acrobatic on your board thanks to your Tipsy Sway. You can Leap to Your Feet after a wipeout, going from prone to standing in only 5 feet. You can also Redirect Attack by spending a ki point when a creature misses you with a melee attack, spending it at another nearby creature instead.

12. Monk 7: Your boarding’s gotten fast enough you can outrun explosions. Your Evasion means failed dexterity saves deal as much damage to you as successes would, and successes deal no damage at all.

You also gain a Stillness of Mind, letting you end a charming or frightening effect as an action.

13. Monk 8: Use this ASI to bring your Dexterity even higher, for a better AC and stronger attacks. Who knew monks like dex?

14. Druid 6: Bouncing back to druid one last time gives you the Land’s Stride, letting you ignore difficult terrain that isn’t made by magic. You also ignore damage from regular plants, and have advantage on saves caused by magical ones. That’s great, because going around on a deserted island with just a bikini on would otherwise be a terrible idea.

15. Druid 7: Your fourth level circle spells are Freedom of Movement and the reason we’re still in this class, Control Water. As long as the spell lasts (up to 10 minutes with concentration) you can control a 100 foot cube of water, causing it to flood, part for your nonsurfing friends, change the flow of water, or create a whirlpool. Flooding is particularly powerful- if done it water, it instead creates a 20′ tall wave that passes through the entire area, with a 25 percent chance of capsizing any Huge or smaller vehicles it catches, and carrying them to the other side. The wave even automatically repeats each turn, so yeah, you can basically shoot down any boat in the game with this.

16. Druid 8: Your last level of druid lets you fly with your wild shape, and you get another ASI for a stronger Wisdom score. You’re kicking up some serious waves now, so you have to make sure your balance is top-notch.

17. Monk 9: Ninth level monks get an Unarmored Movement Improvement, letting you walk on water and walls. Paddling’s for dorks, just run out to where the action is! (You do have to get to solid ground before the end of your turn, but your board probably counts)

18. Monk 10: Tenth level monks have a Purity of Body that makes them immune to disease and poison. Nobody wants to get sick during the summer.

19. Monk 11: Your last Drunken Master goodiebag contains Drunkard’s Luck, letting you spend 2 ki points to do a cool flip, negating disadvantage on an ability check, attack roll, or save.

20. Monk 12: Your capstone level is another ASI, maxing out your Dexterity. It’s not a flashy way to end things, but it is pretty useful.

Pros:

Like a lot of monks, you’re pretty hard to hit, with an AC of 19, the ability to disengage while still hitting people, and a solid +30 to your movement speed while in combat. It’s not even a matter of your armor being good when people just can’t keep up.

Tidal Wave and Control Water are honestly just really good spells, albeit you need a water themed adventure to get the latter’s full power. Also, if you try to surf on your own wave your DM is legally required to give you inspiration, that’s just science.

Not only is your mobility good in combat, if you’re willing to bend canon a bit you can also combine it with your wild shape for utility. A +30 to movement plus being a bird can make moving around much easier.

Cons

Waves are cool and all, but that still means you have a heavy focus on water. If you’re going up against something that resists cold damage, or you’re in a setting that’s landlocked, you’re going to have a bad time.

Taking those druid levels slows your monk progression, and it doesn’t really pay off for this build until you get third level spells. That means you’re dumping a lot of resources into payoff way in the future, while slowing down your AC and martial arts growth.

Using a surfboard as a weapon is really cool, but how effective it is will depend entirely on what the DM makes it. If you have confidence in your DM, this isn’t an issue, but we like to make builds with the least amount of DM caveat as possible here.

#Fate Grand Order #FGO #Mordred #D&D 5e #Fate and Phantasms #Monk #Druid

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mugasofer · 4 years

Text

[cross-posted from my blog]

Thinking spooky thoughts about GPT (I almost said GPT-3, but GPT-2 as well.)

GPT does something that, at first glance, you’d think pretty much no-one really wants to do - guess what comes next in a block of text. Some people have used it to complete poems & stories & articles they were part-way done, doing what it’s “for”. But generally you have to awkwardly hack it into doing what you really want.

To hold conversations with GPT-3, for example, people (especially Gwern) often start dialogue with “This is a conversation between a human and an AI with X property”, then they write the “human” role and have GPT-3 complete the “AI” sections. Sometimes they’ll just use a human name instead, especially when using AI Dungeon which is geared toward “roleplay” in unknown-to-the-public ways.

And one frustrating thing is, this can result in GPT predicting that the AI character wouldn’t know an answer even though, on some deeper level, GPT knows (”knows”?) it. @yudkowsky has been freaking out about this on Twitter a little (e.g. here); there’s a sense in which the AI is “tricking” us into thinking it’s stupider than it is sometimes, because it doesn’t care about appearing smart or being truthful, it just wants to write stories (more formally, it’s predicting what would come next in a human-generated text.) A great example of it that someone posted:

GPT-3 “knows” that 20 is the right answer, but the character it’s playing (”Holo”) doesn’t! Here’s another Twitter person experimenting to see which AI Dungeon characters know what a monotreme is.

But maybe this is ... kind of how people work too?

If I understand it correctly, this is sort of how the “predictive processing” model suggests the human brain works, at the deepest level. @slatestarscratchpad has written a bit about this. Basically, the idea seems to be that the brain simulates the sense-impressions and muscle-movements it expects to recieve; but tweaked toward a simulation where desired things happen; then it performs the next action from the simulation, with a feedback loop where any difference between the simulation and reality is treated as “bad”. So either your prediction ends up changing or reality does or (most often) a bit of both. e.g. you get hungry, your brain starts to predict you’re going to get food, notices that it predicted you would have moved certain muscles and gone over to the fridge but you haven’t, so it moves those muscles ... or it notices that the prediction is wildly implausible (you don’t have a fridge) and abandons it, but there’s still an ever-growing tendency toward predicting futures where you end up with food until one gets close enough. Or something. Maybe this is why I end up checking the fridge, even when I just checked it five minutes ago and know there’s nothing I want?

I’ve often thought that my “inner monolog” is basically just me mentally rehearsing and teasing out stuff I might want to say/write later. Note, not all humans have an “inner monolog”; I wonder if I have one because I read a lot of fiction, and so subconsciously expect people to narrate their thoughts all the time, the way you would if you were recounting a story? And the conscious part of myself, including the inner monolog I’m currently putting down in text, doesn’t seem to have access to everything my brain “knows”. In some cases of brain damage etc. this can produce extremely weird results, like “blind” people who can’t consciously see anything but can still subconsciously react to things, amnesiac people who can learn new skills and habits but not form consciously-accessible memories, and so on, but this is kind of the case all the time - we often seem not to know why we do things, only to construct plausible reasons why we must have done things, creating weird biases where e.g. paying a person a small amount to do something they wouldn’t otherwise have done results in them concluding they “must have” wanted to do it all along (since why would they change their behaviour for something so small?)

People sometimes talk about playing a role in order to deliberately (or accidentally) change your own personality (”fake it till you make it”/”becoming the mask”). I have a small amount of experience with this myself; as a child, I deliberately tried to play a role in order to fit in better at school, and then was somewhat creeped out to realise how much my personality and habits had permanently changed.

Perhaps evolution just stumbled upon a generic architecture for “predicting what will happen next”, then hacked it into being an agent that (sort of, imperfectly) carries out actions in pursuit of goals. Evolution, being itself mindless, doesn’t care if it can produce legible read-outs of it’s internal state or any of the stuff we would want when aligning an AI ... except eventually for social situations where it needs to communicate it’s internal state to other friendly brains, in which case evolution invents another hack for the brain to ... predict what must be going on inside itself and then say that?

And now we’ve stumbled onto a similar architecture, and are making similar hacks in order to turn it into similarly person-like things. (Humans are also merely person-like-things; we don’t match up to the simplified ideal of what a person should be in our heads, with free will and stuff.)

But it’s still not a person, right? It’s just a toy, it doesn’t pass the Turing Test.

Well ... no, it doesn’t. And yet GPT has been getting closer and closer to being able to pass for human as model size increased, with the largest current version being nearly indistinguishable from chance (?!)

So maybe what we have is ... not human-level, but a part of something human-level (or greater, balancing out superhuman pseudo-intelligence with it’s other deficiencies?) There are other parts which are still missing (like the ability to better remember what it was saying), but maybe the core is actually legitimately there.

Or maybe that result only applies for news stories because journalists aren’t really people :P

Should we be worried about it’s suffering? Well, one of the missing parts is desires, so maybe not? It can say that it wants things, but only the same way that a human playing a part would; it’ll fluidly shift between playing the role of the AI role in a dialogue and the human role without caring, because it isn’t actually the AI in the story it’s writing. We don’t consider the desires a human gives to a fictional character for actual morally-relevant desires, and the same should go for the arbitrary desires GPT-3 can pretend to have, right? But at what point does that change, when our own consciously-expressed desires are in part just a role we play? (Do we care about the desires a person expresses except insofar as they hint at “real” desires? What is a desire really?)

Should we be worried about whether human+ AI is actually really, really close? It’s been said that there’s no fire-alarm for general artificial intelligence, but GPT-3 kind of is acting as a fire alarm, at least insofar as it’s got people pretty freaked out by how capable it is. Should we be responding to this fire alarm?

#AI #futurism #we live in the future #GPT-3 #x-risk cw #long #effortpost

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chilly-me-softly · 4 years

Text

Carry You Home • Eric Dier (Part 2)

Part 1

"I knew I'd find you here" that voice that you've learned to recognise by now, Eric's voice, comes from behind you. You sigh, giving one last look at the room in front of you before turning around.

Five days have passed since that episode, three of which you stopped by the hospital to get updates on the baby's condition. You were back to your normal life but your mind was always returning to him. You had tried to find a logical explanation, assuming it was because you had found him - or saved him as that nurse always says.

Your heart only found peace when you saw him, happy to see him away from the blanket, happy to know that he was eating alone, that he was fine. Even though he was still struggling to breathe and had that cannula on his nose to help him.

The night before you went to sleep you wondered what would happen to him. He would certainly have entered the system, gone into foster care. And so he would find a good family, good people who could take care of him? It took you a long time to fall asleep, but ironically, thinking about him could reconcile your sleep.

"Hi" you smile softly at the boy who does the same, you hadn't been completely honest with him in the last few days. Eric knew that the day after the hospitalisation, you went back to visit him but he didn't know that you had kept going. Even though coming to look for you there claimed he knew you much better than you thought.

Eric moves next to you, his eyes going through the glass to the well known place where the little one is resting peacefully.

"I know we said-"

"I came to see him after training the other day" he interrupts you, leaving you speechless.

After your solo visit, you promised not to come back and try to put the episode aside by moving on with your lives. A decision made to not get attached, having done a good action had to be the basis to make you feel good.

The next day, however, you had fallen for it again. One last time to say goodbye to him, you said to yourself. And instead you went back again and again.

Eric, on the other hand, had really found himself there by chance. He had approached the car quickly looking forward to warming up after a long day out training, and his eyes fell on that blanket as he put his bag in its usual place. And he simply thought that a short stop wouldn't hurt anyone.

You squeeze his hand, feeling a strange vibe at that admission, but you're unable to give a proper reading to it.

-------

"We can't go on like this" that statement comes as an unexpected slap, it hurts but it's the truth and it's a wake-up call.

Eric comes and sits next to you holding your hands between his to comfort you. You know it's the right thing to do but you can't stop your eyes from filling up with tears.

"We really have to (Y/N). Sooner or later they will discharge him and take him away and we have to stop while we can" it costs him so much to admit it even to himself, but he feels that if one of you doesn't put a stop to it seriously, the further you go the more complicated it will become to handle it.

"I know" a gasp comes out of your lips as you try to take deep breaths and calm down, "I know. I just... I can't explain it"

"What do you say if-if we go one last time to say goodbye to him? Together and for real this time" he proposes and in a second endless thoughts can really go through somebody's mind. That moment before you nod and then throw yourself into his arms is one of the longest moments ever.

Maybe it's not the case, you think. Maybe knowing that it really is the last time, that you will have to do everything to not give in from that moment on, will make it even more difficult. But Eric is right, it's better to put some distance between us now than to have the patch torn off when it's too late.

--------

How can people forget about someone they have met, who have left a mark along the way, who have changed us in some way by making us open our minds or change.

The truth is that we don't forget, the feelings given are incorporated within us and gradually shaped us. Like a clay pot that has to be shaped, a person makes a change, makes us grow, destroys us and remodels us. Every episode we face adds or removes a piece, and the final work is never really the end because the clay can always be remodelled.

As soon as you arrived, you went on your way expertly. Only once you arrived in front of the room, your little space was empty. That crib you had stared at for the previous days was empty and a sense of panic had overwhelmed both of you, immediately thinking the worst.

Then a nurse, the same as always who had followed you from the beginning, who had seen you arrive separately but with a common purpose, who in many years of her career had witnessed few similar situations, came to your rescue.

She had brought you in front of another glass and happily pointed to a crib, at the bottom right. Because that little miracle no longer needed the little tube with oxygen and could stay with the other newborn babies, on which he was the biggest. The joy had been so great that needless to say, other tears had appeared.

You and Eric had watched him for a long time, happy that he had improved in such a short time and that he hadn't suffered any permanent damage because of the way he had been abandoned. You could have stayed there forever if it hadn't been for another couple who had approached to admire one of the other newborn and without any mischievousness asked which one was yours.

Another bubble, yet another one, had burst and brought you back to reality.

--------

You feel emptied of everything at that moment, so many contrasting emotions that together create an absolute void. Nothing makes sense anymore and your head can no longer think clearly.

An opportunity had been created, one that will surely change your lives and on which you cannot make hasty decisions. It had run across you like a running train, and yet you had never felt so alive in your life.

Almost ten days had passed since that evening, since arriving at the hospital with that almost cyanotic bundle in your arms and the shock in your eyes. Three since the day you had decided to say goodbye to him. Two from the unexpected proposal.

The phone call had been a bit of a surprise, you had both been summoned by the hospital management. You thought it was about the baby, but at first, when you discussed it with Eric, you thought it was more of a scolding on their part. It wasn't normal for strangers, even though they were involved in the situation, to go back and forth to the hospital to check on a complete stranger after all. You thought they would tell you to stay away from that unit, that you had taken advantage of their kindness for too long now; you laughed thinking they would arrest you for stalking or something like that.

You had apologized to the manager once in her office at the time of the meeting, you knew it was unhealthy what you were doing and explained to her that it would never happen again. Both in fear like two students in front of the principal. But you weren't there for that.

The woman had spoken a lot about the child's condition and thanked you once again for your charitable act. Then she started talking about foster care, numbers, adoptions, filling your head with words upon words while you were still trying to make sense of it all.

And then the bomb had been dropped. The woman was asking you to adopt that child, to give him a loving and welcoming home, to continue to fill him with attention and love. To give him a family.

--------

"Do you think we could do it?" you hold a cushion in your arms, sitting on the sofa in front of Eric, legs crossed. You had asked for a few days to think about it and well you had a lot to discuss.

"Well we're both in our 30s, we're both going to start a family sooner or later, aren't we?"

"Yeah but... can we make it with a kid that's not ours? Are we mature enough?" Eric reaches out to hit your thigh and get your attention. He can't lie, the proposal came in like a bucket of cold water. The doubts are many, but for his part, he feels that the proposal has connected all the pieces: the worry, the constant desire to know how he was doing and make sure with his own eyes. And he might not show it, leaving the emotional part to you, but in those few days his whole world turned upside down. He doesn't know how to explain it in order to make sense of it, but the focus of everything is that little creature.

"Listen, I have faith in us. We can do it, if that's what you want too, if we are on the same page. It doesn't matter that we didn't conceive him, he will always be ours. We will have plenty of tough challenges ahead of us, but we will do it together. And we will raise him in exactly the same way as all those who will come after him"

"Do you realize you have already included him in an us?" your voice shaking as you follow with your gaze as he rises on his knees before approaching you, being careful not to fall.

"Everything makes sense now (Y/N), everything makes sense. Think about it, you me and him, here. Playing or watching him grow. First steps, first word, the lullabies to put him to sleep. You as his mother-"

"And you as his daddy" you say in a whisper, your eyes shining with emotion.

"I want to have a baby with you (Y/N), I want to have that baby with you"

"I can see that" you can whisper before his lips meet yours, first in an urgent kiss then sweeter and mixed with your tears of joy.

-------

A few days and everything is ready to make your home welcoming for the new member of your family. It's still strange to say that word in relation to you two, soon three. It all sounds like a dream but it's not, it's all true and in a few hours it will be even more so.

"We're going to be terrible parents, we should be asleep right now" you complain by resting your forehead on your legs curled up to your chest in a dramatic way, Eric's laugh coming to your ears right afterwards.

"I'm too excited and worried to sleep, we'll have time for that"

"Oh really?!" you look at him badly while he holds you tight, disguising another giggle in your neck.

"And just for the record, we're gonna make great parents"

"Why? I mean, what makes you say that?" he lifts his head from your shoulder, suddenly more serious.

"(Y/N) I love you and you love me, this seems to me the most important thing to start with" you smile looking ahead of you, "and then the rest will come by itself, nobody prepares you to be a parent and we certainly haven't had nine months to get the idea but we will work hard to be the best possible version of us"

"I'm sure you'll be his favourite" you mumble, caressing his cheek and he grins leaving a kiss on your lips, "Of course, you'll be the one banning us from having fun..."

"I didn't sign up for this"

"Oh darling, you signed up for this and much more"

-------

One last look between you two and a deep breath before you enter that hospital, ready to start the most exciting day of your lives so far.

Your heart is beating like crazy, your legs are shaking as if they were made of jelly, but there is a bright smile on your faces.

Finally that tag is no longer empty, the miracle child has an identity. Now he is a Dier, he has a name and a surname and people who are willing to love him forever by his side. And it's beautiful.

It's like a deja-vu, with the nurse who makes you approach him and asks if you want to pick him up. But this time no one runs away in tears, those are always there but this time it's because the little one is finally in your arms. Now you can let yourself go with your imagination, you can get attached to him, you can hold him and smell his perfume while the little one is already settled and waiting for you to carry him home.

Tag: @emwritesfootball @footballdaydream @alexajanecollins

#eric dier #eric dier imagine #eric dier imagines #football imagines #football imagine #my writing #original #carry you home

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junemondegreen · 3 years

Photo

I fixed the stupid desktop problem so here’s my timeline with transcript under the cut to tell you what it says cos I know that shit’s too small to read

PRE GEM WAR: > Tsavorite emerges and is put in charge of one of Yellow Diamonds asteroid mining colonies

> Pink Diamond struggles to gain the approval of the other diamonds. Her pearl sees how much this affects her

> Upset over being left out again, one day Pink Diamond has an emotional outburst and accidentally damages her pearl, leaving a permanent scar

> Hematite emerges

> Peacock Sapphire emerges and begins her duties attending to Blue Diamond

> Stormy Sapphire emerges

> Pink Diamonds pearl snaps and shouts at the other diamonds. They have her replaced at once with a new pearl

> Pink Diamond learns to keep secrets and puts up a show of behaving better

> Peacock Sapphire is content for a while but eventually becomes bored of her existence but she keeps these feelings to herself

> Goshenite emerges > Stormy Sapphire accurately predicts any deviance in a gems behaviour and is promoted to rooting these gems so they can be corrected > Yellow and Blue Diamond notice Pinks better behaviour and take her to the Reef as a reward to help oversee the production of a pearl for a newly promoted gem. The Reef malfunctions and Little Pearl is created.

> Pink Diamond defends Little Pearl from Yellow and Blue when they try to shatter her. Pink offers to do the deed herself but only poofs and bubbles Little Pearl. She had CG Pearl hold on to the gem until she can figure out what to do with it

> The Reef is repaired. “Perfect” Pearl is created and delivered to Stormy Sapphire

> When Pink Diamond has a chance to sneak off she travels to the furthest reaches of the Gem Empire to set Little Pearl free on the most distant and least developed planetoid she could find: one of Yellow Diamonds asteroid mines. Little Pearl escapes into the extensive cave network

>Little Pearl spends hundreds of years hiding and evading Homeworlds forces. Her existence is once of constant fear of being caught and shattered, and as the planet is strip mined and terraformed she runs out of places to hide.

> One day Little Pearl is spotted by Homeworld gems and they give chase

> Hematite is working her shift in the mines when Little Pearl runs in to her while being pursued by Homeworld gems. Hematite brings Little Pearl to a caved in section of the mines where she can hide

> News of a loose off-colour pearl reaches Homeworld. Yellow and Blue are furious that Pink Diamond has created yet another mess that they will have to clean up. Yellow is certain the off-colour will be caught

> Pink Diamond is much better behaved now but obviously depressed. Yellow and Blue Diamond assume she’s only bored and create a Spinel playmate for her. It works, and for a while Pink seems happier. > Boulder emerges and starts her work on the mining colony. She is unsatisfied with her work but does not express it, unsure as to why she feels that way

> Orange Sphalerite emerges and is paired up with Coal to maintain equipment on Yellow Diamonds mining colony

> Coal emerges at the same time as Orange Sphalerite > Hematite visits Little Pearl often to make sure she’s safe and the two grow closer, culminating in them discovering cross-gem fusion for themselves

> Blue Gahnite emerges

> From now on Hematite and Little Pearl stay together and spend more and more time fused. Hematites absence is noticed and there is a search for her but it’s eventually called off as she’s never found

> Blue Gahnite is assigned to the distant asteroid mining colony to entertain the gems who work there

> Boulder greatly admires Blue Gahnite and secretly practices her own comedy routine in hopes of one day performing it for the gems she works with

> Pink Diamond is finally given her own colony and begins to spend more time on that than with Spinel

> One day Blue Gahnite wanders off to have a moment to herself. However she overhears Boulder practicing her comedy routine in secret

> Blue Gahnite listens to Boulder when one of the jokes makes her laugh and she’s caught. She offers to help Boulder perfect her routine so she can perform it for everyone

> The Rose Quartz persona is created and she falls in love with earth. She tries multiple times to stop the colonization but Yellow and Blue Diamond ignore her pleas. Pink Diamond leaves Spinel in the garden and starts the rebellion.

THE GEM WAR:

> Peacock Sapphire attends a gala thrown by Blue Diamond where she meets Rose Quartz and they have a short but meaningful conversation where Rose invites her to Earth

> Stormy Sapphire also attends Blue Diamond’s gala along with Perfect Pearl

> Peacock Pearl’s original owner is lost in the Gem War. She is rejuvenated and assigned to Peacock Sapphire

> The day comes for Boulder to perform her routine, but it goes disastrously and she and Blue Gahnite are sent to Facet 1 to explain what they’ve done to Tsavorite

> Tsavorite questions Blue Gahnite and Boulder and allows them to go back to their jobs as long as they promise not to step out of line again. She also has her management gems keep a closer eye out for any more insubordination

> Blue Gahnite and Boulder return to the mines

> Orange Sphalerite and Coal approach Blue Gahnite and Boulder after they return from Tsavorite’s palace. They enjoyed the comedy routine and want to know when the next performance will be

> A budding friendship grows between Peacock Sapphire and Pearl. They continue their routine on Homeworld, part of which includes attending shows put on for the high class of gem society > Sphalerite and Coal are disappointed to learn that there won’t be any more shows, but their support pushes Boulder to still pursue her dream. The four gems set out into the caves to find a secret place to practice and put on shows

> Peacock Sapphire notices that Peacock Pearl enjoys the shows, though she tries to hide it. They begin to talk more, and Sapphire tells Pearl how she can always predict the end of plays so they’re boring to her. Pearl suggests that she use her power to write plays with endings that subvert her predictions. Sapphire collects props and costumes that Pearl enjoys.

> When Peacock Sapphire is invited along on Blue Diamonds diplomacy mission to earth she is driven by Rose Quartz offer to her long ago to accept

> Confrontation in the Cloud Arena. Garnet is formed for the first time in front of everyone at court.

> Peacock Sapphire and Pearl witness Garnets debut. Afterward they return to Homeworld but grow restless under the stifling nature and flee back to Earth and officially join the Crystal Gem rebellion

> Stormy Sapphire also witnesses the fusion of Garnet

> While searching the caves, O. Sphalerite, B. Gahnite, Boulder and Coal dig through some rubble to create a path that can be hidden from sight. Inside they find Hypersthene. She is reluctant at first, but allows them to use her hiding place as a secret comedy club.

> Goshenite is assigned to working with Stormy Sapphire to seek out and capture rebellious gems across the galaxy and bring them back to Homeworld to face punishment

> Hypersthene and the other four gems form a close knit friendship group and over time other gems join their comedy club

> Tsavorites gems report to her that some workers, including the original two insubordinates, are sneaking off into the caves to meet up in secret. Tsavorite sends some quartz soldiers to discover what they’re up to and capture them

> Peacock Sapphire and Peacock Pearls love of costumes and acting earns them a place as spies among the Crystal Gems running infiltration and sabotage missions

> Tsavorites forces raid the secret comedy club. They capture many gems but Boulder, Coal, Hypersthene, Sphalerite and Gahnite manage to escape

> Tsavorites gems return to her palace and inform her that the instigators of the trouble have escaped further into the caves. Tsavorite calls in an elite team of gem bounty hunters to capture them

> Stormy Sapphire, Perfect Pearl and Goshenite receive a message from Tsavorite asking for their help capturing some rogue gems > Peacock Sapphire and Pearl are assigned to infiltrate Tsavorites court, but when they arrive they are mistaken for the bounty hunters. They play along and strike out into the caves along with a Ruby guard Tsavorite insisted they take with them

> Peacock Sapphire, Pearl and Ruby find the caved in tunnels Tsavorites gems swept earlier. Another cave in is triggered and Sapphire predicts Ruby will be crushed. Without thinking, she fuses with Pearl and they save her

> The real bounty hunters arrive and Tsavorites gems realize their mistake. The last two Ruby guards go with them to find the insubordinates

> Peacock Sapphire and Pearl and their Ruby guard find the comedy troupe gems at the same time as the bounty hunters. a fight breaks out. The comedy troupe gems assume that Peacock Sapphire and Pearl are Homeworld-aligned and try to fight everyone. The bounty hunters take advantage of the chaos to corner Hypersthene and capture her. When Peacock Sapphire and Pearl turn their sights on the bounty hunters the Comedy Troupe gems realize they aren’t on the same side. Outnumbered, the bounty hunters retreat

> Peacock Sapphire and Pearl invite the comedy troupe to join the Crystal Gems, but they insist they must rescue Hypersthene and the other captured gems before they can go. They surmise that Hypersthene was taken to Tsavorites palace and head there.

> The bounty hunters return to Tsavorites palace with Hematite and Little Pearl. They are put into cells and given time to reform before they’re questioned. Perfect Pearl torments little Pearl until she poofs and Hematite refuses to cooperate or answer any questions

> Peacock Sapphire and Pearl, Ruby and the comedy troupe gems arrive in Facet 1 and see that only high ranking gems are allowed into the palace. Sapphire crafts a plan for her and Ruby to fuse and pose as a single-gem garnet that has captured some rebels. The Topaz guards fall for it and let them in

> Back on earth the final battle takes place and Pink Diamond is “shattered”. Homeworld loyal gems evacuate. Pink reforms as Rose Quartz and earth is hit with the corruption blast

> The comedy troupe and peacock squad gems free Hematite and begin to search the palace when their deception is discovered. Perfect Pearl reveals she has Little Pearls bubbled gem. Another fight breaks out and the bubbled gem is tossed around until it pops and Little Pearl is freed. Hypersthene is reunited, and the gems fight their way to the hangar where Peacock Sapphires ship is waiting

> Unable to accept failure, Stormy Sapphire and Goshenite fuse into Cavansite and confront the rogue gems in the hangar

> the gems defeat Canvansite and escape on Peacock Sapphires ship. They begin the long journey back to earth

> Peacock Sapphire senses they something is amiss as they draw closer to earth. Once they arrive they see that the Gem War has ended and Homeworld has retreated, but the Crystal Gems have seemingly all been destroyed. The gems turn away from earth and venture back into space to search for others that may need their help

#stevenuniverse #Steven universe #Steven universe future #su #gemsona #fangem #my art

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solohux · 3 years

Text

@anonymous submitted: A conversation on piloting (Starring Dark!Consort!Poe and Kylo Ren!)

Poe: *Cheerfully* “Hey babe, I got a request for you."

Kylo: *Amused* "Voice it and you might just get it."

Poe: *Nonchalant* "Let me fly into battle with you, I’m going stir-crazy just standing around here looking pretty."

Kylo: *Flat* "No."

Poe: *Pleading* "Come on, babe. It’s not that I don’t enjoy standing around looking pretty… but flying is in my blood and it never feels right when I watch you leave to go do battle without me at your side”.

Kylo: *Resistant* “I can’t risk you getting injured.”

Poe: *Pleading, he’s a bit desperate now* “Remember when we were kids? I was always the one dragging you out to go hiking or exploring, it was me who was always dreaming up crazy schemes and adventures for the two of us to partake in… Face it babe, I’m an adrenaline jockey. I just need a bit more excitement in my life."

Kylo: *Quietly. He’s a bit taken back, he didn’t expect Poe to bring up their childhood!* "And I remember all the times you got yourself hurt when we were children. Some of those injuries ended up being quite serious Poe."

Poe: *Waving away Kylo’s concerns* "Aww, but I always healed quick, remember? Never ended up with any permanent damage."

Kylo: *Dryly* "Yes and you never seemed to learn anything from your wounds. You were always right back at it as soon as you were healed. Often even before then."

Poe: *Nonchalant* "Eh, I was just a kid. All kids get themselves hurt, just part of growing up. I’m much older now than I was then, I promise you that I’ll be careful and won’t take any stupid risks."

Kylo: *Deadpan* "And what would I do with myself if some Resistant pilot got lucky and shoot down your ship? The answer is still no, Poe."

Poe: *Protesting* But babe, that’s the same exact thing that goes through my head whenever I wave you off from the hanger! How is it fair that you can allow yourself to take that chance, but you refuse to even consider allowing me to do the same?!"

Kylo: *Resistant and waving off Poe’s protests* "I have The Force, I can foresee attacks coming before they even happen. My reflexes are quicker than any ordinary man’s, I can get out of the way in time."

Poe: *Desperate and a bit frustrated* "But Kylo! We both know that I’m just as good of a pilot as you!"

Kylo: *Startled*

Poe: *Calming himself down and feeling a bit ashamed* "Look babe… I may not have The Force like you do, but you’ve seen my piloting records. You know that I’ve gotten myself out of sticky situations that the vast majority of people wouldn’t have been able to do."

Kylo: *Quietly* "I do know that. You’re beyond an excellent pilot, one of the best in the galaxy."

Poe: *Trying to lighten up the mood a bit* "Much better then all of those poor kids General Hux sends out with you, eh?"

Kylo: *Snorts out a surprised laugh* "I can certainly agree with you on that."

Poe: *Determined* "Then let me fly with you. I’ll have your back and I know that you’ll have mine."

Kylo: *Sombering* I wasn’t being figurative when I said earlier that I wouldn’t know what to do with myself if you were shot down Poe."

Poe: *Tries to interrupt*

Kylo: *Raises a hand and continues getting more emotional the longer he goes on* "If you were to die while piloting, I don’t think that I would be able to live with myself anymore Poe. I wouldn’t be able to go on. You would be able to survive my death, I wouldn’t survive yours."

Poe: *Protesting* "Of course you would Kylo, you’re the strongest man that I know! … Look… I’m sorry that I made you upset, that was the last thing I wanted to do when I brought this whole thing up."

*Poe hugs Kylo*

*Kylo hugs Poe back and takes a deep breath*

Kylo: "My strength my be enduring, but my attachment to you is what makes it so. I know you want to fly, I know that desire runs all the way down to your bones… but I can not allow you to fly into battle with me. Not right now, when the war is so hot that The Resistance is throwing everything that it has at us."

Poe: *Hugs Kylo tighter and gets all teary* "Alright Kylo, you win. I get it now."

Kylo: *Pulls away from Poe and beams at him* I’m relieved that you understand. And just because you can’t do battle with me doesn’t mean that we can’t fly together at all. Hux told me just yesterday that engineering is nearing completion of a new TIE prototype, how would you like to be the first one to fly it?"

Poe: *Brightens instantly and practically jumps in excitement* "Whoa really?! Yes! I’d definitely love that!"

*Poe thinks a moment*

Poe: *Smirks* "So I’d get to be the pilot and you the gunner?”

Kylo: *Huffs and rolls his eyes at him* “Yes, I would be the gunner. I will remain at your side. Just as you will always stay at mine."

Poe: *Cheerfully* Tell me all about this new TIE then….

The End!

#submission #benpoe #darkpilot #dark poe #I LOVE THIS!!#oh kylo #'you would survive my death but i wouldn't survive yours'#what a line #thank you so much for sharing this darling! <3

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jokerfan99 · 3 years

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My Top 10 Favorite Anime Heroes (Updated) by DarkChild316

“Guess who’s back…back again! DarkChild’s back, with 10 more friends!” LOL, sorry for that lame-ass joke, but I was listening to some Eminem earlier today. Anyway, my terrible sense of humor aside, I thought it would be a good time to give my list of “My 10 Favorite Anime Heroes” an update, figured since I did one for the villains I thought shit, might as well do one for the heroes too! Now once again, this list is strictly for the men only, if you want a list of my favorite anime queens, check out my list of “My Top 10 Favorite Anime Heroines”. But in the meantime, enjoy this updated list of my favorite anime heroes:

#10. Izuku Midoriya (My Hero Academia): One of the newest (and quite literally) entries on my list, Deku is a character who dreamed of becoming a hero in spite of being born without a Quirk or any kind of powers in a world dominated by heroes with them. Only to be chosen as successor to the greatest hero of the age, All Might. A humble yet caring fanboy at heart, if All Might represents the Golden Age of heroes, then Deku represents the future of heroes in the Modern Era. He may be a socially awkward cinnamon roll at the best of times, but don’t let that fool you into thinking that he’s not willing to stand up and do what’s right when the chips are down and the world needs a hero to stand for, no matter what form of villain is in the way! The only reason he doesn’t rank any higher on this list, is because he’s still relatively new to the scene and time will tell where he stands in the Patheon of anime legends.

#9. Inuyasha (InuYasha): He’s half dog-demon, half human: put it all together and what do you get? A sword-wielding hybrid who knows how to take care of business. Originally wanting nothing more than to become a full demon, his human heart trumped his selfish desires, leading him to fall for the modern-day schoolgirl he vowed to protect. Fighting through feudal Japan to recover fragments of the Sacred Jewel, InuYasha can be both cold and rude, yet heartfelt and compassionate. Plus, he makes us all laugh whenever we see this happen.

#8. Alucard (Hellsing): There have been a shitload of vampires in modern anime, yet all of them owe their debt to this tall, dark, well-dressed man. There has never been a vampire as delightfully sadistic as Alucard but unlike most vampires, there’s a method to his sadism that makes him truly brilliant. He isn’t truly evil, he’s just a monster who revels in destroying other monsters in any sadistic way he sees fit. And he truly revels in it, making his victims (most of which are evil Nazis and powerful demons) believe they actually have a chance by damaging them before regenerating and wrecking them in devastating fashion. This isn’t to say he’s totally heartless though, as he’s shown a great deal of fondness for the members of his team who are just as devoted to ridding the world of the evil forces that threaten it. Even though the anime version of Alucard mentions that he doesn't entirely understand humans anymore, he seems happy to work in the service of them, and to protect them from devils who aren't as honorable as he is.

#7. Kenshin Himura (Rurouni Kenshin): When I was a kid, Rurouni Kenshin was my favorite anime growing up and Kenshin was my favorite character. Having had a chance to revisit this anime recently during lockdown reminded me once again why that is, Kenshin is easily the most compelling character I had seen growing up as a kid and he was a refreshing change of pace in the samurai genre. Firstly, he was quite feminine to the point that many mistook him for a woman. He was also one of the politest characters in anime history, frequently putting others before himself and speaking to them with the utmost respect and patience. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think the guy would be better suited as a florist that a samurai. But underneath that smiling exterior hides a dark secret, Kenshin is a man haunted by the demons of his past. A former mercenary who killed countless foes, he makes a vow to never kill again, and is repeatedly tested on that vow time and time again as less virtuous people endanger the country’s peace. When Kenshin's hand is forced, he can go to incredibly dark places and fall back into the habits that made him known far and wide as the most fearsome swordsman in the land. Although Kenshin’s momentary lapses make him a complete badass and set the stage for some of the most epic sword battles ever animated, Kenshin always goes back to his sweet persona once the danger is gone. But in his solitary, quiet moments, he's gripped by his greatest fear; that one day he will permanently revert to his former self and become a manslayer once more.

#6. Spike Spiegel (Cowboy Bebop): I’ll admit, it had been a long time since I’d seen Cowboy Bebop, so naturally I had forgotten about how cool a character Spike Spiegel was. Thankfully, this pandemic has allowed me to revisit it, and I find myself being just as in awe of Spike as I was when I was kid in the 90’s, he’s that awesome a character folks! Spike was an amalgamation of influences (from Bruce Lee, to Lupin III, and a little dose of film noir), and the result was a creation greater than the sum of its parts. In a series like Cowboy Bebop, which was itself a combination of cultural influences from around the globe, Spike was the essence of the story. Voice actor Steve Blum launched his career into new heights when he gave the performance of a lifetime in the English dub of the series, giving Spike a sense of smooth, effortless cool that many argue surpassed the original Japanese version.

Spike proved to be a versatile character; he was an expert pickpocket, a gearhead who worked on his own spaceship, a clever detective, a badass fighter, and even a bit of a philosopher. But what made Spike most interesting was his past as a gangster, and a man hopelessly in love. His relationship with Julia, and the tragic end of that relationship, haunts him throughout the series and shows us what truly mattered to him all along. When Cowboy Bebop reaches its powerful conclusion, Spike goes out in a blaze of glory that is unmatched in the history of anime (all I have to say is “Bang”).

#5. Ichigo Kurosaki (Bleach): The first of the shonen “Big 3” to appear on my list, you’d think being born with the ability to see ghosts would be enough, but not for this high-school bruiser. After a fateful encounter with a Shinigami, Ichigo gains the power of a god of death, and is tasked with defending his home from the malicious spirits known as Hollows. As his seemingly endless battle stretches to other planes of existence and some truly frightening enemies, both Quincy and Hollow, this orange-haired swordsman will keep fighting to protect what matters most to him no matter what.

#4. Monkey D. Luffy (One Piece): The second member of the shonen “Big 3” to make my list, this straw-hatted rubber-man takes my vote for his carefree spirit and his big heart. With the dream of grabbing the title of Pirate King, Luffy is a man who thinks with his stomach and fists rather than his head. Always in the pursuit of adventure, this happy-go-lucky guy may be the last person you consider when you think pirate captain. But you’d be wrong: You mess with Luffy’s crew and he’ll declare war on the entire world to save them.

#3. Naruto Uzumaki (Naruto): Talk about a rough childhood. After having a powerful demon sealed inside of him, Naruto was a social outcast in the shinobi village he grew up in; even though people despised him for being the vessel for the Nine-Tailed Fox demon he did not take the darker path in life nor did it deter him from pursing his dream of becoming the village leader to gain the respect and admiration of those who once shunned him. Naruto’s growth as both a ninja and human can be seen throughout the series, as it was this good nature of his and the will to protect everyone close to him that slowly changed the attitude of people towards him as the bonds of friendship he forges make his dream worth fighting for.

#2. Edward Elric (Fullmetal Alchemist): Wildly ambitious, wickedly smart, and wise beyond his years, Edward Elric entered the stage with a fresh, but interesting take on the modern shonen anime hero. Unlike those who came before him, he wasn’t this lovable idiot with a heart of gold. He was smart, calculating, arrogant, and shrimp sized. But most daring of all was the fact that Edward is technically handicapped, having had both an arm and a leg lost in a tragic accident fueled by love and hubris. In Edward we had a character who unlike most anime heroes was truly multidimensional. He could be comedic and pull off wild takes and sight gags. He could be placed in the most tragic circumstances and portray the deepest kind of sadness. He could be a complete badass, but he could also be the nicest guy on the planet. And most of all we saw Edward discover harsh truths about the world and learn that he didn’t know nearly as much as he thought he did.

#1. Son Goku (Dragon Ball): With the greatest respect to those like Luffy and Naruto, none of those characters would have ever been possible without this man (and the creators of One Piece and Naruto have even admitted this themselves). The prototype for shounen lead characters, Goku was somewhat of an anomaly back in his day. When the plucky, pint-sized kid Goku first appeared in Dragon Ball, the trend for male heroes was to have larger than life muscle heads (which Goku ironically turned into in his adulthood). Goku also grew up; another drastic change in a time when characters rarely changed much. But Dragon Ball Z is where Goku truly earned his fame. Goku isn’t even the most popular character in DBZ sometimes, but he is the foundation of the series. His heroism, strength, and dedication make him the perfect core for a kid’s show where the themes are meant to be pretty simple. He may not be the most complex character in anime history, but he’s perfect for the goal he was meant to accomplish. But Goku isn’t my top hero so much for his character complexity; it’s his influence that cannot be denied. He was, in many ways, a character that bucked the trends of his time and defined the direction of shonen manga/anime for decades, and that's why he's my #1 anime hero of all-time.

So that's my list, what did you guys think about it? Love it, hated it? Go on and tell me what you think and let me know who your favorite anime heroes are. See you soon!

Deviantart: https://www.deviantart.com/darkchild316

#izuku midoriya #my hero academia #inuyasha #Alucard #hellsing #kenshin himura #Rurouni Kenshin #spike spiegel #cowboy bebop #ichigo kurosaki #Bleach #monkey d. luffy #one piece #Naruto Uzumaki #naruto #edward elric #Fullmetal Alchemist #goku #dragon ball

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