#Except I also included despair and hope so there were enough to go around.

[the-kuzusouda-hideyhole]

Who Would Confess First? – a very long and rambly infodump

So. Love confessions. They're one of my favourite things to think, read and write about when it comes to my ships, and Kuzusouda is no exception. Lately I've been thinking about who'd be more likely to make the first move, and I've come to the conclusion that it'd probably depend on which point of the canon we're at. I feel like pre-despair (or non-despair if we're going the AU route; this includes things like Danganronpa S and the Talent Development Plan), mid-killing game and post-canon are all very different points in time, thus all the SDR2 characters would have noticeably different worldviews, experiences and priorities in each time period. And this can even inform things like confessing your feelings to your crush.

Let's go into that in more detail.

Pre-Despair/Non-Despair

I think Fuyuhiko would confess first.

Now hear me out – I know there's that whole thing with the yakuza and him needing to continue the bloodline and all that. I do think that he'd sit on his feelings for a good while before making any moves, both to see if they'd go away on their own and because he just doesn't like having to talk about his feelings if he can help it. That being said, if his feelings persist long enough and/or grow too intense, he'd rather just get them out there before they eat him out from the inside or ruin his friendship with Kazuichi. Assuming that he and Kazuichi have grown close enough to be able to talk about anything with each other – which they likely would've for Fuyuhiko to catch feelings for him in the first place – I figure that Fuyuhiko would feel pretty awful about hiding something like this from him. He'd confess not because he wants or expects Kazuichi to feel the same way or begin a relationship with him, but rather to get it out there so that he can begin to move on and really focus on what matters most to him. This confession could also double as a queer coming-out, and to Fuyuhiko, that could be the real test on whether Kazuichi is really a friend worth keeping around.

Now, it's not impossible for Kazuichi to be the one confessing in this time period, but I do find it unlikely because of his past experiences with losing friends. Kazuichi would probably be kinda clingy with Fuyuhiko, and very, very careful not to do anything that could damage their friendship. Kazuichi doesn't know how Fuyuhiko might respond to a love confession from him, and he likely doesn't even know how Fuyuhiko feels about LGBT+ people. To him, the best way to deal with his crush is to fake it until he makes it, basically. This might include playing up his infatuation with Sonia long after those feelings for her have vanished – if they'd ever existed in the first place.

During the Killing Game

Compared to a pre-despair or non-despair setting, the dynamics between Fuyuhiko and Kazuichi are a little different. They have good reason to distrust each other now, especially early on, and the progression of their friendship would be faster (keep in mind that the KG lasts a couple of weeks in-universe) but a little rockier. Keep in mind that they don't remember anything about their time at Hope's Peak, so whatever might've happened back then doesn't really matter for the most part.

With this change in dynamics and circumstances in mind, I actually think Kazuichi would be more likely to break the ice.

A major part of Kazuichi's character in SDR2 is his crush on Sonia. Indeed, being trapped in a killing game and fearing for his life every single day doesn't stop him from not only getting attached to Sonia, but being very open about his crush to the point of making her uncomfortable. While this crush was very much present pre-despair as well, you could argue that here, it is, in part, a coping mechanism and an attempt to distract himself from the reality of his and his classmates' situation.

If Kazuichi were to then develop feelings for Fuyuhiko – genuine feelings for someone he actually knows beyond a surface level – then he might eventually confess to Fuyuhiko in the hopes that they can get into a relationship and he can have something to distract himself from all the death and despair. It's not a good or healthy reason to ask someone out, but 1. Kazuichi is a hormonal teenage boy, 2. he's literally stuck in a life or death situation and 3. he's already not one to think things through very well and the killing game is likely making that worse. I figure that he'd still be kind of clingy to Fuyuhiko and anxious about how his crush would affect their friendship, but since their friendship here wouldn't have been as much of a "slow burn" as it was pre-despair, and there's a very real chance Fuyuhiko will die anyway... well, it's not really as much of an issue here.

Fuyuhiko would be the opposite. I think he'd swallow down his feelings no matter what because he's in a killing game and he knows that his #1 priority is to get out of there before anyone else dies. I feel like he'd find it pretty silly to focus so much on high school romance drama in such a dire situation. Besides, the dude's just lost two of the most important people in his life. He's gonna be sore about that for awhile no matter how much he tries to move on and be strong for them.

Post-Canon

I always like to say that a post-canon setting is actually the best place for Kuzusouda to succeed long-term, because by that point they've known each other for a good while, they've been through a lot together, and, provided that a lot of time has passed and they're both in a healthier headspace, there's nothing stopping them from being together. It's for this reason that I believe that, in this setting, both are equally likely to make the first move.

Inevitably, the former Remnants of Despair will have to start thinking about romantic relationships at some point. Problem is, given that they're to be isolated from the outside world for the rest of their lives, their dating pool is... not very big, to say the least. On the flip side, Fuyuhiko and Kazuichi are now in a position where, if they were to ask the other out, they wouldn't have anything to lose.

Possibly the biggest hindrance to Kuzusouda succeeding in a non-despair setting is the Kuzuryuu Clan. Fuyuhiko needs to continue the bloodline as the up-and-coming heir, and he can't do that when he's with a man. He's spent his entire life working up to this point, too; he's not gonna throw all that away for Kazuichi so easily. Here, the Kuzuryuu Clan is long gone, and Fuyuhiko's future is nothing like how he'd envisioned it. His entire life has changed in a very drastic way, and, again, he needs a lot of time to come to terms with that, just like everyone else. Once he does, however, he'd realise that now, he has the freedom to love whomever his heart desires. In time, he'd come to accept a relationship with Kazuichi as part of his happy future on Jabberwock Island.

As for Kazuichi, I figure he'd go through a lot more character development here than he ever really did in the game proper. If he sought comfort and escape during the killing game, then this is the point where he'd have no choice but to face reality. Nothing about his life is normal anymore, and he has an immense amount of trauma to work through. As the saying goes, what doesn't kill you makes you stronger, and although Kazuichi would probably have a harder time overcoming his hardships than most of his companions, he'd likely come out of the other side as a much more mature person. He'd confess to Fuyuhiko if Fuyuhiko doesn't confess to him first, not to distract himself or satisfy his hormones, but out of genuine love and care for Fuyuhiko, because he wants a future where Fuyuhiko will always be at his side.

What About Island Mode?

Island Mode is more of a canon divergence than a full-fledged non-despair AU, given that the only thing that's really changed is that there's no killing game. We, the audience, know full well that these characters are the Remnants of Despair and that they're in a simulation designed to rehabilitate them, but as far as the characters are concerned, they're meeting each other for the first time on a fun school trip. The Kazuichi and Fuyuhiko we see here are pretty much the same Kazuichi and Fuyuhiko we see pre-despair or in a proper non-despair AU, so my headcanons for those settings would apply here as well.

That's All, Folks!

Thank you for reading this long-ass infodump, I hope you enjoyed it 🩷💛

[feanorianethicsdepartment]

Alright, I read your recent post and need to know - what is your interpretation of Maglor’s relationship with the twins?

askjdhslkjag my biggest self-inflicted problem in this fandom is that my take on maglor, elrond, and elros' relationship is so intensely detailed and specific i am forever tormented by none of the fic i read ever quite getting it right (from my perspective; i’ve read plenty of fic that presents a good interpretation on their own terms, it’s just never mine.) it’s simultaneously way darker than the fluffy kidnap dads stuff and nowhere near as black-and-white awful as the anti-fëanorian crowd likes to paint it, it’s messy and complicated and surrounded by darkness, and yet there’s also a sincere connection within it which mostly serves to make all those complications worse. angry teenage elrond is angry for a great many reasons, and the circumstances around him being raised by kinslayers account for at least half of them. there’s lots of complexity here, and i don’t see it in fic nearly as often as i’d like

(warning: the post... feathers? i already have an internet friend called faeiri this could be awkward - anyway, the post she’s talking about includes the line ‘everyone is wrong about kidnap dads except me.’ this post follows on from that in being as much a commentary about why various popular interpretations of both how the kidnapdoption went and the way people subsequently characterise the twins just don’t work for me as it is a setting out of my own ideas. i’m not really interested in getting into discourse here, i’m just trying to get my thoughts down. i’ve read fic with these interpretations before that i’ve liked, even, don’t take this as a Condemnation, aight? also this turned out long as hell, so i’m putting it under a cut)

i can never buy entirely fluffy depictions of kidnap dads

which isn’t to say i don’t read them! sometimes all i want is something sweet, for these kids to get to be happy for once. it’s not like i think their time with the fëanorians was completely devoid of laughter

it’s just. the pet names, the special days out, the home-cooked meals, it can get so treacly it stops feeling like the characters they are in the situation they’re in and turns into Generic Found Family #272

it soaks out all the complexity - which is the thing i am here for - and acts like oh, these kids were never in any danger, they were perfectly happy being abducted by the people who murdered everyone they knew, there’s nothing possibly questionable about this relationship at all

and... yeah. that’s not the characters i know. that’s not the context i know they belong to

i just can’t forget the circumstances that led them to meet

rivers of blood, the air filled with screams, a town ablaze, a woman choosing to die. every interaction the three of them have is going to proceed from that nightmare

(sidenote: i tend to hold it was maglor that raised the twins, with maedhros looming ominously in the background not really getting involved. it’s mostly personal preference, i’ve been in and out of the fandom since before this kidnap dads thing blew up and when i joined that was a perfectly standard reading)

(also the cave thing was a dumb idea, old man, if only because it implies beleriand had streams safe enough for children to play in at that point. the way it separates the twins from the third kinslaying is also something i don’t particularly vibe with)

probably my least favourite angle i’ve seen on the situation (edged out only by ‘maglor was actively abusive towards the twins’ which no no no no no no no no NO) is the idea that maglor (and/or maedhros, append as necessary) took the twins specifically to raise them

like, i get where it’s coming from, but it makes maglor come off as really creepy

(i have read fics where it is indeed played off as really creepy, but that’s not a maglor i have any interest in reading about)

(’mags 100% bad’ is just as facile a take to me as ‘mags 100% good’)

even if you’re saying maglor took them in because they had no one left to take care of them - i highly doubt they were the only children the fëanorians orphaned at sirion. idk, it always makes maglor seem much less sympathetic than i think it’s meant to

i prefer to think of it as more... organic? something that evolved, not something that was preordained. them growing closer gradually, the twins finding an adult who might maybe be on their side, maglor becoming invested in them almost by accident

and then the twins are so comfortable with the second scariest monster in amon ereb they frequently sass him off and maglor’s gotten so used to not hurting them he’s not even thinking about it any more. no one’s quite sure how it happened, but they’ve made a Connection

‘wait aren’t they a murderous warlord of questionable mental stability and a pair of terrified small children who’ve lost everyone they ever knew? isn’t that kinda fucked up?’ yup! that’s the point! complexity!

another idea i don’t like is the idea that maglor was an objectively better parent to the twins than eärendil or elwing

other people have talked about this already, i won’t rehash the whole thing. i will say that while i don’t think elwing was a perfect parent - someone so young, in such a horrible situation, i wouldn’t blame her for screwing up - i do think she (and eärendil) did the best by them they possibly could

this is one of the few things they have in common with maglor

something i come across now and again is the idea that sure, elwing and eärendil weren’t abusive or horrible or anything, but they were a couple of basically-teenagers with so many other responsibilities, there was only so much they could do. maglor, on the other hand, is an experienced adult who could take much better care of the twins

and...

first off, it’s not like mags doesn’t have a job. he’s a warlord, he has a fortress to help run, military shit to handle, lots of other stuff that needs to get done to stop everyone from starving or getting eaten by orcs. i feel like sirion had enough of a government there was plenty of opportunity for elwing to take days off and play with her kids, but in the fëanorian camp nobody really has the time to chase after a couple of toddlers, least of all one of the last points on the command network. they just don’t have the people any more

(seriously, the twins getting a formal education with tutors and classes and shit is a weirdly specific pet peeve of mine. this is a band of renegades, not a royal household; if there’s anyone left with those kinds of skills they almost certainly have more important things to do)

more than that, though - well, a quick glance through my late stage fëanorians tag should tell you a lot about what i think maglor’s mental state is like at this point. he is so accustomed to violence death means nothing to him, he’s lost most of his capacity for genuinely positive emotion to an endless century of defeat and despair, he hates everything in the universe, especially himself, he’s only able to keep functioning through a truly astounding amount of denial, and he covers it all up with a layer of snark and feigned apathy, which he defends aggressively because he’s subconsciously realised that if it breaks he’ll have absolutely nothing left

(maedhros, for the record, is... i’d say more stable, but at a lower point. maglor may interact with the world mostly through cold stares and mocking laughter, but at least his mind is firmly rooted in the present)

(on the other hand, at least maedhros lets himself be aware of what they are and where their road will lead)

which... this doesn’t mean maglor doesn’t try to be kind to the twins, or rein in his worst impulses around them

there’s just so little of him left but the weapon

he stalks through the halls like a portent of death and gets into hours-long screaming matches with maedhros and has definitely killed people in front of the twins

not even as, like, a deliberate attempt to scare them, but because when you solve most of your problems by stabbing them it’s pretty much a given that people who spend a lot of time around you are going to see you do it at least once

and sometimes, he curls up in an empty hallway, and weeps

... suffice it to say i don’t think elwing’s the more preoccupied, or the less mentally ill, parent here

just. in general, the fëanorians aren’t cackling boogeymen, but they’re not particularly nice either

no one has the energy left for that. not these isolated and weary soldiers at the end of a long losing war and the beginning of the end of the world. they don’t really bother to guard the kids against them escaping. where else are they going to go?

the sheer despair that must have been in the fëanorian camp after sirion, the knowledge that the cause cannot be fulfilled, that they are utterly forsaken, that they’re really just waiting to die -

it can’t have been a happy place to grow up in, under the shadow of loss and grief and deeds unrepentable, and the slow march of inevitable defeat

they would have had a better childhood if they stayed in sirion, raised by people who knew how to hope

but that isn’t the childhood they had. and despite everything i’ve said, i don’t think that childhood was an entirely awful one

yeah, see, this is where the other side of my self-inflicted fandom catch-22 comes in. just as much of the pro-kidnap dads stuff comes off as overly saccharine and simplified to me, i find much of the anti-kidnap dads stuff equally simplistic in the opposite direction

the idea that maglor and the fëanorians never meant anything to elros and elrond, that they had no effect on the people they became at all, that it was just a horrible thing that happened when they were children, easily thrown in the rear-view mirror...

that’s even more impossible to me than the idea that life with the fëanorians was 100% fluffy and nice

like, i’ve seen the take that elros and elrond hated the fëanorians from start to finish. they were perfect little sindarin princes, loyal to their people and the memory of doriath, spurning every scrap of kindness offered to them and knowing just what to say to twist the knife into the kinslayers’ wounds

... dude. they were six. hell, given their peredhelness, mentally they could easily have been younger

what six year old has a firm grasp of their ethnic identity? what six year old is fully aware of their place in history? what six year old would understand the politics that led to their situation?

don’t get me wrong, i can see hatred in there. but something else that doesn’t get acknowledged alongside it often enough is the fear

some of the stuff i’ve read feels like it gives the kids too much power in the situation. they’re perfectly happy to talk back to and belittle the people who burned down their hometown and killed everyone they ever knew, like miniature adults who don’t feel threatened at all

and, like, six. i can see them going for insults as a defensive measure, but it is defensive. it’s covering up fear, not coming from secure disdain

(and a lot of those insults sound, again, like things an adult who’s already familiar with the fëanorians would say, not a scared child who’s lost almost everything. why would a six year old raised by sindar and gondolindrim know what the noldolantë is, let alone what it means to maglor?)

(... i’m just ranting about this one fic that’s been ruffling my feathers for five years straight now, aren’t i)

i mean, i write elrond as the world’s angriest teenager, who snipes at maglor pretty much constantly, but the thing about angry teenage elrond is that he’s angry teenage elrond

he’s spent long enough with the fëanorians he has a pretty secure position within the camp, and he knows that maglor won’t hurt him from a decade and change of maglor not, in fact, hurting him

but as a small and terrified child abducted by the monsters his mother had nightmares about? he fluctuated wildly between ‘randomly guessing at things to say that wouldn’t get him killed’ ‘screaming at maglor to go away in words rarely more complicated than that’ 'desperately trying not to do or say anything in the hopes of not being noticed’ and ‘hiding’

(and i don’t think the twins were never in any danger from the fëanorians, either. quite besides the point that before they started orbiting maglor nobody was really sure what to do with them... well, they wouldn’t be the first children of thingol’s line the minions took revenge on)

(fortunately for them, maglor did, in fact, take them under his wing. by this point even their own followers are shit scared of the last two sons of fëanor, nobody’s going to mess with their stuff and risk getting mauled. tactically, it was a pretty good decision for a couple of toddlers)

more to the point, i feel like a child that young, in a situation that horrible, wouldn’t reject any kindness they were offered, any soothing touch in a universe of terror

in a world full of big scary monsters, the best way to survive is to get the biggest scariest monster possible to protect you. that’s how elros rationalises it when they’re, like, eight, mentally, but at the time they were just latching on to the only person around them who seemed to care about them

that’s how it started, on their end. two very young very scared children lost in a neverending nightmare clinging tightly to the lone outstretched pair of hands

as for maglor...

i’ve called mags evil before, but i see that as more of a... technical term? he is evil because he did the murder, he remains evil because he won’t stop doing the murder. hot take: murder bad

but that doesn’t make him, like, a moustache-twirling saturday morning cartoon villain. he is deeply unhappy with the position he’s in and the person he’s become, and he’s always trying not to take that final step over the edge

it’s not that i can’t see a maglor who is abusive or manipulative or who sees the twins more as objects than people. it’s just that that characterisation is one i am profoundly uninterested in. i do occasionally read fic with it, but it never enters my own headcanons

horrible people can do good things!! kinslayers can do good things!! the fallen are capable of humanity!! people can do both good and evil things at the same time, because people are complicated!! maglor is not psychologically incapable of actually taking pity on these kids!!!!

it’s... again, complexity. the fëanorians straddle the line between black and white, which is a lot less sharp in the legendarium than it’s sometimes characterised as. it’s what draws me to their characters so much, why i have so many stupid headcanons about them. pretending they fall firmly on either side of the line is my real fandom pet peeve

and, like, this moment? this sincere connection between a bloodstained warlord and two children who will grow up to be great and kind in equal measure? i may not entirely like the direction the fandom’s taken it recently, but that beat, that relationship, it still gets me

so no, i don’t think elrond and elros’ years with the fëanorians were an endless cavalcade of abuse and misery. i think there was love there, despite the darkness all around them

an old, tired monster, and the two tiny children it protects

maglor never hurts the twins, not ever, not once. his claws are sharp and his fangs are keen, if he so much as swatted them he’d rip them in half. instead he folds down the razor edges of his being, interacting with them ever so carefully. he has nightmares of suddenly tearing into their skin

seriously, the power differential between them is so great, maglor so much as raising his voice would break any trust they have in this horribly dangerous creature. fics where he does corporal punishment always get the side-eye from me

the mood of their relationship is... i find it hard to put into words. melancholy, maybe, like a sunny afternoon a few days before the end of the world. three people who’ve lost so much finding what respite they can in each other as the world slowly crumbles around them

there are times when it feels like the three of them exist in a world of their own, marked out by the edges of the firelight. maglor telling stories of the stars, elros giving relaxed irreverent commentary, elrond getting a few moments to just be, all their troubles kept at bay

they are the last two lights in a world sunk into darkness, the last two living beings he does not on some level hate. he will tear his own heart out before he sees them in pain

he teaches them to ride, he teaches them to read, he gives them everything he still has left. the twins should never have been in this situation, maglor probably isn’t entirely fit to take care of them, but it is what it is, and they take what love they can

(maglor depends on the twins emotionally a bit more than any adult should rely on any child. he’s still very much the caretaker in their relationship, but that relationship is the only one he has left that’s not stained by a century of rage and grief. he’s obsessed with them, maedhros tells him frequently. maglor’s standard response to this is to try to gouge maedhros’ eyes out)

(that particular darker side to their relationship, where maglor’s attachment to the twins turns into a desperate possessiveness - that’s not something i think i’ve ever seen in fic. which is a shame, it feels much closer to my own characterisation than the standard ways this relationship gets maleficised. darker, in a different way than usual. horribly compelling in its plausibility)

however you want to read it, i don’t think you can deny this is a relationship that defines elrond and elros’ childhood. they were raised in the woods by a pack of kinslayers, the text is quite clear on this

but i’ve seen a lot of talk about how elros and elrond are only sirion’s children. they are completely 100% sindarin, they love and forgive eärendil and elwing thoroughly and without question, they identify with doriath over - even gondolin, let alone tirion. the fëanorians - the people who raised them - had zero effect on the people they grew into and the selves they created

and that, more than anything else, i find utterly unbelievable

look, i get what this is a reaction to. a lot of the kidnap dads stuff paints the fëanorians as elrond and elros’ ‘real’ family, and i’ve already talked about what i think of the idea that maglor-and-possibly-also-maedhros were better parents than eärendil and elwing. i think it’s reductive and overly optimistic and just a little too neat

but to say instead that elrond and elros held no great love in their hearts for maglor, no lingering affinity with the fëanorians, no influence on their identity from the people they grew up around, none at all? that after it happened they just left it behind and resumed being the same people they were in sirion?

that strikes me as just as much an oversimplification. it sands down all the potential rough edges of their identity, all that inconvenient complexity that stops them from fitting into any well-defined box, and replaces it with a nice safe simple self-conception i find just as flat and boring as declaring them 100% fëanorian

we can quibble over who they call ‘father’ (i personally find that whole debate kinda petty) but denying that it was actually maglor who was the closest thing they knew to a parent for most of their childhoods, and that that would, in fact, affect the way they thought of themselves and their family, elides so many interesting possibilities out of existence

(i’m not even going to get into the most braindead take i have ever heard on the subject, namely that because their time with the fëanorians was such a small fraction of elrond’s total lifespan it was like being kidnapped for two weeks as a toddler and had no greater significance than that. do you not understand what childhood is????)

like, i tend to think of elrond as a child as being very loudly not-a-fëanorian. elros is more willing to go with the flow - hey, if the creepy kinslayer wants kids, elros is happy to play into that in order to not be murdered - but elrond is very firm that he’s not happy to be here and he doesn’t belong with them

(this is after they get over their initial terror, of course, when they’ve realised they won’t be fed to the orcs for the tiniest slight. even so, elrond only really gets shirty about it around people he’s comfortable with, whose reactions he can reasonably guess at. naturally, the first person he does it to is maglor)

elros calls maglor their father exactly once, when they’re... maybe early preteens? this is because elrond hears him do it and immediately loses his shit. they have a dad, elrond says, in tears, and a mum, and any day now their real parents are going to come to pick them up and take them home

... right?

it gets harder to believe as the years roll on, as their memories of sirion fade, as they find their own places within the host, as maglor watches over them as they grow. elrond still mentally sets himself apart from the fëanorians, but it’s more of an effort every year. life in the fëanorian camp is the only one he’s ever really known. he can barely remember his mother’s voice

then the war of wrath starts, and the fëanorian host drifts closer to the army of valinor, and the twins come into contact with non-fëanorians for the first time in forever, and it becomes clear just how obviously fëanorian elrond is. he always insisted he wasn’t like the kinslayers at all, but he dresses like them, talks like them, fights like them

the myth cycles the edain tell are almost completely unfamiliar to him, he barely remembers the shape of the songs of lost doriath. even these sarcastic commentary and subversive reinterpretations he made of maglor’s stories - those were still maglor’s stories! he’s been trying to guess at the person he was meant to be, but it’s growing nightmarishly blatant how little elrond ever knew about him

instead, the people he was born to are as alien to him as the orcs of morgoth. he is a fëanorian, through and through

... yeah, elrond (and/or elros) having an absolutely massive identity crisis upon being reintroduced to his quote-unquote ‘true kin’ is another angle i’d love to see in fic that i don’t think i’ve ever come across. all those potential grey areas around who they are and who they’re supposed to be sound utterly fascinating, and i think it’s the complexity i hate to see elided over the most

i really, really doubt they could effortlessly slot back into being eärendil and elwing’s children. not when they’ve been surrounded by, lived alongside, been raised by the people who were supposed to enemies for most of their lives

they just don’t fit into that box any more. they can’t

speaking of eärendil and elwing, while i do agree that they both (especially elwing) get a lot more flak than they deserve, i don’t agree that therefore elrond and elros were never the slightest bit mad at them and fully forgave them for everything with no reservations

because, well, they were left behind. elwing had no other choice, but they were still left behind; it led to the world being saved, but they were still left behind. all the best intentions in the universe don’t erase the weeks and months and years of waiting, of a hope that grew thinner and frailer until it finally quietly broke

that’s a real hurt, and a real grievance. even if the twins rationally understand that their parents were making the best out of their terrible situation, you can’t logic away emotions like that. it’s perfectly possible for them to know they have no reason to resent eärendil or elwing, and yet still harbour that bitterness and pain

(i did write a thing once where elrond loudly rejects eärendil as his father in favour of maglor, but something i didn’t add in that i probably should have is that elrond later regretted doing that)

(not like, several centuries later, when he’d grown old and wise. two hours later, when he’d calmed down. but he was still legitimately angry at eärendil, because the one thing angry teenage elrond was not lacking in was reasons to be mad at the adults around him, and before he could figure out if he had anything less furious to say the hosts of the valar left middle-earth behind)

(it’s another element to the tragedy of the whole thing. in that particular story, which is mostly aiming for maximum pain, the only thing elrond’s birth parents know about their son for thousands of years is that he hates them)

(and he doesn’t, not really. you can’t hate someone you’ve never known)

not that i think they couldn’t ever make up with their parents! fics where elrond and his birth parents work past all the things that lie between them and form a functional familial bond despite it all give me life. i just don’t like the idea that there’s nothing difficult for them to work past

i don’t like the idea that elrond and elros would naturally, effortlessly identify with the mother they last saw when they were six and the people they only vaguely remember. i can see them doing it as a political move, i can see them going for it as a deliberate personal choice, but i can’t seeing it being immediate and automatic and easy

no matter how great a pair of heroes eärendil and elwing are, that doesn’t change the fact that to elrond and elros, they’re at most a few scattered memories and a collection of far-off stories. and so long as the twins stay in middle-earth, they’re never going to draw any closer

compared to the dynamic, multifaceted, personal, and deep bonds they have with the fëanorians - who, and i know i keep saying this but i think it gets tossed aside way more casually than it should, are the people who actually raised them, their birth parents must feel like a distant idea

and that’s why i can never buy interpretations of elrond as 100% sindarin, a pure son of doriath, with no messy grey areas or awkward jagged edges to his identity. given everything we know about his life, it seems almost cartoonishly simplistic

honestly it seems like a narrative a bunch of old doriathrin nobles trying to manouevre elrond into being high king of the sindar or something would propagate. it's neat and nice and tidy, something that’d be much more convenient for everyone if elrond did feel that way

but i just don’t see how he can. this narrative is easy and simple in a way real people never are, it ignores all the forces pulling him apart. elrond being uncomplicatedly sindarin with the life he lives and the people he's close to - that doesn’t make any sense to me

which isn’t to say i think he’s 100% noldorin, from either a gondolindrim or a fëanorian perspective. (i find it a little more believable, given, again, who he grew up around and who he hangs out with, but it’s still a bit too reductive for my tastes.) it’s also not to say i couldn’t believe an elrond who made an active choice to emphasise his sindarin heritage

it’s not how i think of him, but it works. i don’t have a problem with other people interpreting the complexities of the twins’ identities differently

i just have a problem with people acting like it doesn’t exist

in general i think there’s a lot untapped potential that gets left behind when you declare the twins, separately or together, as All One Thing

they’re descended from half the noble houses of beleriand, and they have deep personal ties to most of the rest. they belong to all of the free peoples even the dwarves, somehow, probably and i feel like that was kind of the old man’s point? so many peoples meet in them, to say they wholly belong to any one species is probably an oversimplification

they sit at a crossroads of potential identities, and rather than narrowing down their worldviews to one single path, they take the hard road and choose all of them. that’s what you need to do, if you want to change the world

and, to bring this back to my ostensible topic, in my estimation at least this mélange of possible selves does include them as fëanorians! it’s not overpowering, but it’s certainly there, and the adults they grow into long after they’ve left the host still bear influence from their childhood

nothing super obvious, nothing that wouldn’t stand out if you didn’t know what to look for, but there’s something almost incandescent in how fiercely elros reaches out for his dreams

there’s something almost defiant in elrond’s drive to be as kind as summer

as for who they publically claim as their family... honestly, it depends. while it’s usually more tactically prudent for elros to connect himself to his various human ancestors, on occasion he does find a use for his free in with the elf mafia, and elrond, code switcher par excellence, is famously the son of whoever is most politically convenient at the moment, which is rarely, but not never, maglor

(in the privacy of their own minds, well, eärendil and elwing may have been the parents elros was supposed to have, but maglor was the parent he actually had, and elros doesn’t particularly care to mope over what might have been. elrond, for his part, figures that after all the shit maglor has put him through, the least that bastard owes him is a father)

but honestly? i think before any of their mountain of identities, before thinking of themselves as sindarin or gondolindel or hadorian or haladin or fëanorian or anything, elrond and elros identify as themselves

they are peredhil, they are númenóreans, they are whoever they make themselves to be. that’s how elrond finally resolved his identity, figured out who he was and found something past the pain and the rage

he wasn’t doriathrin, or gondolindrin, or falathrin, or fëanorian, or whatever else. he was elrond, no more and no less

and that person, elrond, could be whatever he chose to be

... elros came to a similar conclusion, with much less sturm und drang that he’s willing to admit. being able to go ‘hey, i can’t possibly be biased towards any one of your cultures, because i’m descended from all of you and i was raised by murderelves’ makes it a lot easier to unite people around your personal banner, turns out

the stories other people tried to force on them shattered into pieces, and the peredhel twins were free to shape themselves into anything they could dream of

and as the new world struggles alive, these lost children of an Age of death begin to bloom into their full glorious selves -

i just. i love the poetry of that. despite every single shadow that hangs over their past, despite all the clashing notes pulling them apart, they harmonise it all into a greater, kinder theme, determined to make their world a better place in whatever way they can

they fail, of course, but so do all things. the inevitable march of entropy doesn’t diminish the long millennia they (and their descendants) held onto the light

and their growing up in the fëanorian host definitely had a huge effect on the noble lords they became. you can see it in elros’ loud ambition to create a land of happiness and hope, elrond’s quiet resolve to heal all the hurts inflicted by this marred reality

it wasn’t a perfect time by any means, but neither was it a nightmare. it was what it was, a desperate existence at the edge of a knife where, nevertheless, they were loved

even after years upon decades upon centuries have passed, it’s hard for the wise king and the honourable sage to separate out and identify all the conflicting emotions swirling around their childhood. they never knew eärendil or elwing, true, but they also never really knew maglor

not as equals, not as adults, not as people who could truly understand him. he disappeared into the fog of history, leaving only childhood memories of razor-sharp, gentle hands

it’s messy and it’s complicated and getting any real closure would be like shoving their way through a thornbush with bare hands even if elrond could find the shithead, and yet at the core of it all, there is light. not the brightest of lights, maybe, but an enduring one

that contrast, above all, that note of warmth amidst the shadows, is what fascinates me so much about their relationship. three screwed up people in a screwed up world, finding a little peace with each other

and the fact that somehow, it does have a good ending - the children grow up magnificent and compassionate and just, they become exemplars of all their peoples, lodestars of the new world born out of the ashes of the old - that makes it seem to me like this relationship must have contained some fragment of happiness

but, fuck, all the darkness that surrounds that love, all the tangled-up emotions its existence necessitates, all the prefabricated self-identities it can never slot into - nothing about it is simple, nothing about it is easy, and i find that utterly enthralling. especially how, despite everything, that flickering light never goes out

well, i don’t think it does, anyway. my take on this relationship is both complicated enough no one else ever quite gets it right and well-defined enough every single ‘error’ in other people’s interpretations sticks out like a kinslayer in rivendell

it is an entirely self-inflicted problem, i will admit. other people are allowed to interpret those complexities differently from me, and it’s entirely my own fault i lack the :waves hands around nebulously: to write my own hypothetical fic on the subject at a pace faster than glacial

still, though. i do wish there was more fic out there that engaged with these complexities. a lot of the common fandom interpretations of this relationship just sweep it all away

[retrogalwrites]

Title: “Shigaraki and the perfect girl” / see on ao3

Pairing: Incel!Shigaraki x f!reader

Summary: Shigaraki has a crush on what seems to be the perfect girl who everyone loves, and becomes obsessed with the idea of corrupting her.

Warnings: attempted sexual assault, virginity fetishization, dub con, creepy behavior, stalking, manipulation and somnophilia with a twist

Contents: creampie, vaginal sex, breeding kink, scent kink (in a gross way), mating press, slight dumbification, corruption kink

Word: 4873

Shigaraki had been watching you from the very beginning, all through your high school years. It hadn't been much of his fault, he always told himself, when your existence alone did nothing but to stand out.

You had always been the center of attention, the most popular girl in the entire school, little Miss Perfect. With your good grades, unrivaled beauty, hordes of friends, admired by all students and professors alike. Being always so kind and innocent, with a friendly demeanor towards everyone, including an unwanted outcast like Shigaraki.

On his end, he had always been the creepy one, the strange one, the antisocial one that sneered at others and cursed them under his breath. Everyone avoided him like the plague, at least whenever they weren't too busy tormenting him, all too eager to remind him of how unwanted he was.

The complete opposite of you, Shigaraki was a social pariah.

On your third year, whenever other students would bully him publicly, give him looks and tell him how gross and disgusting he looked, you always had to come right to his rescue.

"Stop it, guys! That's no way to treat someone." You'd say softly, standing between him and his tormentors like some kind of protector. "Leave him alone, would you?"

And they couldn't say 'no' to you, no one could. Reluctantly they would give in to your heartfelt request and leave him be, those fools always dancing on the palm of your hand, but who could blame them? The hottest girl in class, lusted after by every boy in school, including Shigaraki himself, there was no way anyone could resist doing whatever you wanted them to. So pretty, so sweet, so perfect.

You had it all so easy, didn't you?

Shigaraki hated you for that, deeply and passionately loathed your very existence, a resentment that only grew stronger every time you would turn around, with that expression full of concern, to ask if he was okay.

Yes, he hated you for that. He also desired you for that, adored you in fact, wanted you as badly as any other buffoon in your class did. But not in the same way as them. No, when you looked at him with those sparkly eyes, pouting lips, leaning over his desk to give him an eyeful of your chest straining against the fabric of your school uniform, the feelings that stirred inside him were ugly and suffocating, something too depraved to be love.

When the other guys glared at him for having your attention even for a minute, it made his heart beat faster, it made his blood boil as his hands itched to grab you and destroy you, bend you over his desk and tainting every corner of your body right in front of them.

"You're lucky [name] takes pity on your sorry ass, Shigaraki." One of his bullies would scoff, once you were out of earshot.

"I didn't fucking ask her to. Maybe the bitch has crush on me, huh?" He'd spat back with vitriol, just to be met with a kick to the shin. As he hunched over in pain, he'd always hear those same words.

"Know your damn place, freak. A crush? Please, she's too perfect for you."

And they were right, so very right, but it only made Shigaraki want you more, more, more. His infatuation was warped with the thought of revenge, the desire of getting back at everyone by taking you away for himself, and to get back at you simply for daring to exist.

So Shigaraki would curse you in his mind, every single day, and then every night he'd spent it pleasuring himself to fantasies of you, sometimes holding the items he had stolen from you in the past (a gym shirt, your lip balm, the pencil you'd chew on during class). Creating scenarios where he'd get you alone to taint you, destroy you, turn you into dust and ashes with his own hands until he had dragged you down to his own level: a freak, a pariah, the lowest of the low.

If only he had the guts to do it, if only he could admit to himself that he wanted to do it at all, for real.

—————

After graduation, not seeing you for the following months pushed his mind deeper into that brewing obsession, drove him mad with it.

Shigaraki stalked your social media, watching his phone all day to make sure he didn't miss any of your publications and updates, downloading every selfie you uploaded to keep for himself and fap to later. His infatuation had been growing more and more out of control with each passing day, you invaded his thoughts every waking hour.

And yet Shigaraki told himself that it was really only a coincidence that he had ended up in the same college as you. Despite having read through a conversation on the comments from one of your posts on your Instagram a month or so before graduating, about your college prospects. Despite writing down those prospects to later tell his school advisor that he wanted to get into that same school. Despite having begged his father to send him there despite the inconvenient distance away from home in his daily commute, despite having chosen a major he didn't care about just to be in the same class as you.

His self-denial kept that obsession barely restrained, keeping it from pouring out into reality, and you also had to ruin that.

"Tomura!" You had approached him on the first day at campus, excitedly calling his name with such familiarity. The sound made his breath hitch and his cock twitch inside his pants, stomach fluttering.

"Oh, umm...hey." He chewed on his chapped lip, looking away as he lied through his teeth. "Didn't expect to see Miss Perfect here, of all people."

Despite of his dismissive tone being cold as ice, you kept smiling at him, only laughing as if he had been joking.

"It's so good to see a familiar face, you know? Come, sit next to me!!" You had grabbed his hand without a second thought, pulling him along with you into the classroom. People already whispering just from seeing you two walking together hand in hand: a breathtaking beauty like you and him, a disheveled mess, who had been wearing the same dirty hoodie for already a week.

Yet you didn't let go of his hand, even when he had already started to sweat and his palm got all clammy against yours, you didn't let go. The thought of rubbing off his filth onto your skin filled him with joy.

You really were a fucking idiot.

Holding hands with your stalker so casually, with the guy that wanted to ravish you in a dark corner, break you with his cock until you were screaming his name, and make you beg for your life like a pathetic bitch. Yes, that's what he wanted to do, more than anything in the world. He wanted to destroy you, to violate you, to break you, to make you his. Those weren't fantasies, it was reality.

Shigaraki used that same hand to jerk himself off that night in his dorm, imagining that it was you being forced to stroke his throbbing cock. He imagined that you would be so disgusted by his filthy self, your clear skin getting all of his dirt rubbed all over, fat tears streaming down your face as he forced you to open your mouth and take him in until you chocked on his cock.

Soon enough, he was thrusting into his fist, cumming all over himself until his cock softened, and his hands and abdomen were covered in his sticky semen.

What would you do if you found out that the guy you had been so kind to all these years wanted to hurt you so badly? Shigaraki imagined the despair on your face, and soon he was hard again.

—————

For most people, life after high school plays differently. Once you get to college, popularity contests become a thing of the past...but not for you, it seemed. During that first semester, Shigaraki had to watch how everyone around you was back to fawning all over you. Stumbling over themselves to ask you out to parties and dates (how many times did he overhear guys talking about what they wanted to with your tits and ass?), professors favoring you for your perfect grades, everyone adoring you as the perfect girl once again.

He was still an unwanted pariah, ignored by everyone, looked at with scorn by others.  Except whenever you gave him your attention, of course, only then did people want to get all buddy-buddy probably hoping to get to you with his help.

God. He fucking hated you. And he fucking wanted you.

One day, he finally snapped.

Shigaraki decided that he was going to have you before anyone else got the chance to put their hands on you, the perfect girl that everyone loved so much, would belong to the guy everyone hated.

He was going to tear you down once and for all, like you deserved, for living all these years with a silver spoon in your mouth having it all so damn easy. Wipe off that smile off your face, take it for himself, and make sure you were sullied, miserable, broken.

So, Shigaraki planned his next actions very carefully then. For a whole month, he tried to be more open towards you, more friendly, taking advantage of how kind you had always been towards him despite of the dismissive way he always had treated you with. Despite his awkwardness at it too, something that anyone else would've been turned off by already, but you took his attempts with endearment.

It pleased him, how you fell for it so easily, excited to see him reciprocate your attempts at friendship, the excitement on your face whenever you two were paired together for a project or study sessions.

You were so innocent, and so stupid. He truly loved you.

—————

Shigaraki couldn't believe his luck, the day after an assignment when he got you to come with him to his dorm to start working on how you were going to plan around the workload.

His dorm room was, admittedly, filthy. Unwashed clothes and trash scattered everywhere all over the floor, wraps of junk food and snacks hastily piled on an full trash bin in the corner. Anime figurines, video games, and posters decorated the shelves and the walls. The only spot that was kind of well kept was his gaming corner, with his pc and monitors all sparkly clean. He knew it was a shameful way to live, and he excitedly looked at your face hoping to see any semblance of disgust towards it. The lack of it, made Shigaraki frown.

"Err...sorry, I didn't know you were coming so I didn't clean up the place." He feigned concern, trying to edge a reaction out of you.

"That's ok, sorry for barging in." You gave an understanding smile.

Shigaraki's twisted resolve only became stronger. He was going to wipe that smile off your face, and that thought echoed in his mind on repeat for the following hour you two sat down to work.

Though, of course, his attention was not in the books in front if him. Shigaraki was too focused on the fact you were sitting on his bed, your bare things peaking underneath your skirt making direct contact with his dirty bedsheets.

Could you even begin to imagine that those bedsheets were stained with cum from his daily fapping? That he furiously had been jerking himself off to you for months in that same bed? His blood had begun to run towards his loins, and his cock was starting to strain against his jeans. Shigaraki had to cover himself with the textbook as to not to give himself away.

"Tomura, can we take a break? I'm getting tired." You yawned some time later, putting the book away and stretching your arms above your head. An action that gave Shigaraki a perfect view of your pretty curves, the way your tits heaved slightly as you pushed your chest forward, and a flash of midriff peaked from underneath your top.

"We still got a lot to do, dumbass." He curtly replied, pretending he wasn't leering.

You pouted, like a brat. He couldn't understand how you got such good grades when you could be this lazy sometimes. "Please, just fifteen minutes?"

He pretended to think about it, before shrugging at you begrudgingly. "Alright, just stop looking at me like that."

With a pleased, cheeky smile, you let your back fell on his mattress. Something that actually took him by surprise, Shigaraki watched in disbelief how you bounced on his bed, thighs and tits jiggling. You yawned again as you curled into a ball, he wondered if you even noticed how he ran his tongue over his dry lips. Were you really going to make it this easy for him? Were you that stupid?

"Wake me up in fifteen minutes." and you closed your eyes.

"Sure thing." He couldn't stop his lips from stretching into a huge, sinister smile.

—————

Shigaraki had never been a patient man, but he exercised all of the patience he had within him just to wait out the agonizingly slow seconds as you gradually fell asleep. He kept his eyes glued on your laying form through the first five minutes, casually but excitedly palming his erection through his jeans as he watched you fall asleep. He waited, and waited, silently observing your breathing until it fell into slow, regular rhythm. Soft snoring sounds purred from your throat, leaving your lips.

His cock was so fucking hard it hurt.

Hesitantly, Shigaraki called your name once in a hushed voice, then twice a little bit louder, and when he got no response from you, he knew that the time he had waited for all those years had finally come.

The time to break you.

The beating of his heart hammered loudly in his ears, as Shigaraki crawled over the bed towards you. His weight shifted the shape of the mattress, so he moved as slowly as his desperation allowed him to, as to not wake you up yet. Positioning himself above you, his legs straddled you underneath him as he unbuckled his pants and pulled out his throbbing erection, veiny shaft all with the head red and swollen, looking like he was about to burst. Then, supporting himself on his knees, he leaned back for a moment just to take in the wonderful sight you made.

Spread on his filthy bed, so comfortably on your back, breathing through lush parted lips. The girl chased after by everyone at school, they all would've killed to be in his place and to see you like this, to have you like this. Looking so small, so fragile, so defenseless, so fucking perfect.

Years of abstinence came down crashing all at once and Shigaraki's depravity took a hold of him completely, and it felt damn good.

His lips came down to cover yours with such pathetic urgency, Shigaraki crushed your soft body underneath his larger, even if skinny, frame. Dry and chapped lips devoured the softness of yours, and they tasted so sweet and creamy, exactly the same flavor of lip balm he had stolen from you back in high school. God, he could feel your heavy, round tits pressing against his chest, his erect cock rubbing needy against the snug gash of your clothed crotch, the engorged head poking at your entrance like he was in heat like a dog, shuddering violently at the stimulation. He moaned loudly against your mouth, forcing his tongue between your teeth and into your sweet mouth, as drool trailed down the corners of his mouth and smearing against your pristine skin. God, he forgot to brush his teeth after his morning coffee, his mouth was surely filthy...not like it even mattered to him anyway. Neither did it matter that he was going to wake you up like that, he indulged on tasting you completely. In fact, he anticipated to watch you wake up, and realize what a stupid bitch you had been.

Bringing his hands to your face, he forced your mouth to press harder against his as he kissed you so sloppily, his throbbing erection rutting against your core.

"(Name)...oh fuck, (Name)..." He whined against your lips. Just a virgin that he was, Shigaraki couldn't help that the mere stimulation of your clothed pussy-mound rubbing on his bare cock was really firing him up, pushing him so much that he was creaming his pants already. He shuddered, muscles tensing as the head of his cock spurted huge jets if his smelly, sticky cum all over the front of your skirt and your thighs.

He breathed heavily, looking at the mess he made.

Then he heard you call out to him, and the sound of your voice was anything but distressed, or even angry.

Instead, you sounded disappointed.

"Aww, you already came?" His eyes shot to your face. You were wide awake, face flushed as you stared at him through fluttering lashes and glossy eyes, the expression of someone who was throughly aroused. Shigaraki was the one struck by shock, and confusion.

"Tomura, I can't believe you are such a quick shot. I was looking forward to this, you know?" Your disappointment somehow puzzled him more than the sheer anger of being called out for his quick ejaculation, and that was impressive on itself. His expression made you giggle.

"What the fuck are you laughing for?!" He growled with bared teeth, his hands moving to your writs to restrain them above your head, crushing you with his body again. You whined, not in fear, but need.

He couldn't begin to understand what was happening. You weren't freaking out, you weren't crying, you weren't despairing.

"Do you understand what is happening here? I'm assaulting you, stupid bitch!" He lost his cool so quickly.

"Of course I know." Speaking in a whisper, your back arched, pressing yourself further against Shigaraki, raising your thighs to catch his cock between the soft flesh of your exposed, sticky thighs. He hissed through his teeth,  the touch easily making his cock spring back to life, harder than before.

"Tomura, you've always been a creep." For the first time, your voice sounded harsh, condescending.

And disgusted.

Finally, that disgusted look. Shigaraki stared at you with a burning gaze through red eyes, mouth agape at the sound of those words being uttered by you, that look on your face that he had wanted to see for the longest time. His cock twitched, a spurt of cum drooling down the tip and getting on your exposed panties. The feeling made you shudder, your things squeezing his cock between them again. His back arched, hands restraining you gripped your wrists tighter, he cursed at how fucking good it felt.

"But I always liked that about you, honestly! How gross you are, how dirty and smelly you are, you are always so mean to me too! I wanted you to take me like this by force one day."

"You...wanted this to happen?" Shigaraki was starting to understand, though none of it made sense. You snorted, giving him a suddenly smug grin that made his blood boil.

"I always hoped it would." A candid confession, your own breathing had become erratic, the euphoria of pouring out your deepest secrets. "It always made me feel so hot to imagine that you fucked me and made me all dirty and disgusting, that you turned me into a freak like you."

It sounded like pure bullshit, and yet the genuine honesty in your voice left no room to question it. The reality you presented him with had shattered his own. And it made him so damn angry and so fucking turned on. He felt all light-headed suddenly, like he was in a dream.

"So you've been fucking with me all this time?! Is that it, you damn bitch?!"

One of his hands roughly grabbed your throat, fingers circling the frail column of bone and squeezing hard, you gasped at the sudden pressure keeping you from breathing. You stared up at him. His gaze bore into yours, face inching closer to snarl with pure, scorching fury.

And yet you still looked so ecstatic, a lewd expression that couldn't be further from that angelic, innocent look everyone always said made you so perfect. You looked absolutely wicked in that moment.

"Yes...I have." You spoke through labored breaths, clawing and the hand around your throat. "You fucking...disgusting...creep."

Shigaraki realized then, that you hadn't ever been perfect, in fact, you had been the same as him from the beginning. A depraved fucking mess.

And he hated you for that, loved you for that.

Shigaraki then let go of both your wrist and neck, slipping his leaking cock away from your thighs as he leaned back on his knees. Gasping for oxygen, your head already felt light by the time you felt your clothes being violently ripped off from your body, blouse and skirt tearing away and being thrown behind Shigaraki's towering frame, leaving you in only your underwear.

The frilly, see-through thing that looked more like lingerie. God, you really were such a fucking freak, weren't you?

Shigaraki's hands went to unclip your bra that so luckily opened at the front. Throwing the item with the thorn pile of your other clothes. The sight of your bare tits bouncing in front if him was like out of his deepest fantasies, and Shigaraki didn't wait a second longer to roughly squeeze your breasts in his calloused hands, taking handfuls of the supple mounds of flesh he had always dreamed to grope. They felt full and heavy in his palms, fingers sinking into their softness, and seeing the way you mewled when his thumbs teased the hardening nubs of your nipples, making you softly moan his name, Shigaraki lost it.

His mouth attacked one of your nipples, mouth latching to the puffy areolae and teeth sinking into the flesh as he sucked hard and desperate. Your reaction was immediate, hands tangling into his messy white hair and fingers pulling at his scalp, mouth parted to mewl his name in pain and delight. He kept suckling at your breasts, hungry and rough like he was hoping to suck milk out of them, the other hand already playing with the other breast, mercilessly pulling and twisting your hard nipple, bruising the tender skin.

"Tomura wait — ooh!!" Your body trembled as you whined out his name, another wave of pleasurable pain hitting you when Shigaraki squeezed your breasts together and brought both nipples into his greedy mouth. Sucking at them and lapping at the pebbled skin with his tongue, until your were squirming underneath him like a needy little whore.

One of his hands delved down to your panties, the thin string that held them up all to easy to break with one powerful tug. You gasped, a sound that turned into a loud scream when you felt his fingers teasing the hot wetness of your pussy lips, before he buried one digit into your core, testing your insides.

"Oh fuck..." You breathed, biting your lip, feeling him experimentally finger your inner walls. Shigaraki was fascinated at how hot and slick you felt inside, your fleshy walls sucking around his fingers so tightly that he wanted to stuff his cock inside that hole now, now, now.

He let go of your nipples with a lewd pop, spit dribbling down the abused skin. "Who would've thought...that you had such a filthy mouth." He snickered. "You are so fucking wet already, you goddamn degenerate, you want my cock so bad, huh? I'll let you know I haven't showered in a few days." It was like he was testing you by basking in his own disgusting habits.

"Y-Yes, I do, I want your filthy cock!!" Another loud moan, uncaring that other people in the dorm were going to hear. "Please, Tomura, make me filthy!!" The expression on your face, mouth agape with your little tongue out so unabashedly desperate for someone like him made his heart flutter.

Shigaraki would've wanted to keep you begging for so much longer, but in reality, his own desperation had him pulling back his hand from your pussy, leaving you empty and sighing disappointed for a moment, but not for long. Firmly anchoring himself down with his knees on the mattress, he raised your hips with a bruising touch and with the clumsiness of an inexperienced man, plunged his cock into your pussy in one punishingly rough thrust. The sudden feeling of being full had you arching your back and curling your toes, nails clawing at his forearms as you writhed in pain from the sudden intrusion. Shigaraki buried his cock into you until his pubes brushed your outer lips, and he was balls depp inside.

"Fuck, fuck, ooh...holy shit you...are fucking tight." Tomura groaned with his mouth agape, eyes rolling to the back of his head. His breath hot against your skin as he leaned over for a moment, taking in the unbelievably hot sensation of you squeezing around him. "This fucking greedy pussy, hngg..." Your insides felt so good, better than he ever imagined, you were so tight sucking him in like you were trying to rip off his cock. Was this what pussy felt like, or was this just you? Seeing what a slut you were, he didn't think you were even a virgin. And yet your velvety walls wrapped around his shaft in a snug fit inside that scorching, pulsating heat, Shigaraki couldn't imagine anything else comparing to it.

He couldn't stop himself as he began thrusting his cock into your hole, pulling only slightly before sinking back, selfishly unwilling to let go of that delirious sensation around his length. The harder he snapped his hips, the better it felt, his balls throbbed as they slapped against your plump ass.

"Tomura, i-it hurts....mmm, oh!" Tears swelled in your eyes, and yet your hips were needly sinking on his cock like there was anything else of him to take. What a glutton for punishment you were, but soon that burning pain became something just as good, even better actually, delicious pain, and your were soon arching your back and bouncing on his cock with all your might.

"Guess neither of us are virgins anymore, huh?" You panted with a laugh. Shigaraki froze then for a second, his eyes stared at your face contorted by pain and pleasure with wide eyes, enraptured and burning with something a little hotter than desire. A virgin, so even after the truth of your character, you really were as untainted as he thought.

Shigaraki was scrapping your virgin insides with his cock, truly making you filthy in the most pure sense of the word. He was tainting you, breaking you, the perfect girl everyone adored.

That was it, Shigaraki cursed under his breath as he pulled out, earning a confused and disappointed sound of from your lips, that then became a little help when he grabbed the back of your legs and pushed them up, bending them against your chest. He positioned himself over you and stuffed his cock back inside, thrusting into you as hard as he could, taking up a new merciless pace. In that new position, both of you could feel him reaching even deeper inside you, the engorged head on his cock hitting the entrance of your cervix, that little orifice sucking at his tip like it was begging for his filthy, fertile seed. The thought made him fuck you even harder, the image of him pouring his cum inside you and impregnating your insides.

"Tomura, Tomura, Tomura!!"

His name was a chant on your lips, arms thrown around his shoulders to pull him closer. You could smell the sweat and grime on his hair, and the thought someone so gross like him was taking you made your insides flutter and twist with the build up of an orgasm. "Tomura, don't stop, fuck...don't stop!!"

He didn't and soon you were clamping on his cock, your orgasm making you so tight that Shigaraki was shooting his load too reaching an abrupt climax, pleasure hitting him as his cum flooded your insides with its warmth, painting your walls white and filling up your womb until it was overflowing out of you, steaming down your thighs and ass onto his bedsheets.

It was like a dream, the best dream he had ever had. And he would've thought that it was nothing but a dream, too. If not for the arms that were still clinging to him and refusing to let go, the pretty mouth breathing against his ear.

"Tomura, you...really are disgusting." A satisfied voice filled with disgust, and affection. His cock began hardening inside you and you barked a laugh.

He hated you for that, and he loved you for that. The perfect girl everyone wanted, that was just so perfect for him too.

[the-river-person]

Secrets of the Deltarune

Okay so I was taking a closer look at the Deltarune and I started to notice some really weird things. It’s a symbol for the Kingdom of Monsters, right? Wrong. Gerson tells us “That's the Delta Rune, the emblem of our kingdom.The Kingdom...Of Monsters.” Okay so its the same thing, right? Nope. I looked up emblem and its distinction from Symbol. A Symbol represents an idea, a process, or a physical entity. While an Emblem is often an abstract that represents a concept like a moral truth or an allegory. And when it is used for a person, it is usually a King, a saint, or even a deity. An emblem crystallizes in concrete, visual terms some abstraction: a deity, a tribe or nation, or a virtue or vice and can be worn as an identifier if worn as say a patch or on clothing or armor or carried on a flag or banner or shield. So what does it matter? Well Gerson even tells us why. “That emblem actually predates written history.The original meaning has been lost to time...“  Hold up. Predates written history? The beginning of written history is approximately 5500 years ago. Somewhere around 3400 B.C.E. Thats a long time. And the prophecy that goes with the symbol talks about the Underground going empty, so it can only really be as old as The War Between Humans and Monsters. But...when was that? The game doesn’t tell us the exact dates. Well we have a couple clues. At the beginning of the game we have a little cut-scene of the war and then a bit where we see a human going up the mountain only to fall down into the Underground. Most players assume that this is you, beginning your adventure. Except its not. Later in the game, when you SAVE Asriel in the True Pacifist Route, we’re shown another cutscene with the exact same human figure in EXACTLY the same position, being helped by a very  young Asriel and the silhouette of Toriel. It’s Chara, not Frisk. So our date of 201X (2010-2019) takes place long before Frisk even arrives. We don’t know how long before. That really doesn’t help with when they were first thrown down there though. So I took a look at the images before that, of the war. The first image shows a human who is very different from the later pictures. Both the make of the spear and the animal hide-like clothing suggest that it’s probably stone age. The text tells us a very general “Long Ago”when describing how both races ruled the earth together. In the next two images we’re shown the actual war. The crowd of humans have various things like torches and spears. Those diamond type spears are very similar to Roman Pilums. The Human figure with a sword was interesting though. He bore a mantle (cape or cloak) and is sporting a sword. Though there’s not much detail, we can still identify the general time period of the sword. The size isn’t big enough for a proper claymore or longsword, or even a hand and half sword. Since our figure appears to be moving forward, and we can guess that it’s not in a friendly manner given the context, yet still holding the sword in one hand instead of two, it’s probably a one handed broadsword. It also has a cruciform hilt (cross-shaped) that is slightly curved. The blade is quite wide with what appears to be straight edges (based on two images with limited detail). And it has a very narrow Ricasso, an unsharpened length of blade just above the guard or handle. Ricassos were used all throughout history, but they’re pretty notable for the Early Medieval Period in Europe. And the rest of the sword (blade type, length, crossguard, and method of use) is very reminiscent of a Medieval Knightly Arming Sword, the prominent type of sword in that period from the 10th to 13th centuries. So I had to take a closer look at my spears. Turns out, they actually more closely resemble a medieval cavalry lance or javelin. And many Javelins have their root in the style of the Roman Pilums, including the sometimes diamond shaped tips. The sword and mantle of the figure suggest heavily he’s a knight, and backed up by the spear carriers we can guess that its the Early Medieval Period, possibly the beginning of the Romanesque Period. So that would place us all roughly a thousand and at least ten years before Chara fell into the Underground in 201X. Asgore was certainly alive back then. In the Genocide Route Gerson says “Long ago, ASGORE and I agreed that escaping would be pointless...Since once we left, humans would just kill us.“ and in the Post-Pacifist when you go back to talk to everyone he’ll say this when talking about Undyne “I used to be a hero myself, back in the old days. Gerson, the Hammer of Justice.” He even talks about how Undyne would follow him around when he was beating up bad guys, and try to help, by enthusiastically attacking people at random such as the mailman. This tells us that Gerson and Asgore are as old as the original war and both had been part of the battle. And both lived long enough to survive till now. Gerson is quite old looking, while Asgore is not. He explains this by saying that Boss Monsters don’t age unless they have children and then they age as their children grow, otherwise they’ll be the same age forever. But Undyne doesn’t appear to be old. And I started to wonder how long normal monsters lived in comparison to Boss Monsters. A long time for sure. From the Undertale 5th Anniversary Alarm Clock Dialogue we can learn that Asgore once knew a character called Rudy (who also appears in the Deltarune Game), who he met at Hotland University and appeared to be generally the same age as Asgore. Since it takes place in Hotland we know that it was already when they were underground, Asgore was King and was already doing his Santa Clause thing, and that Asgore was trying to find ways to occupy his time aside from actually Ruling. In the dialogue he tells us that Rudy began to look older than him. “I was there for it all. His Youth, his Marriage, his Fatherhood. Then, suddenly, one day... he fell down. ... Rudy... I... was never able to show you the sun.” Monsters can live a long time. But Boss Monsters, as long as they don’t have a child, can live nearly forever as long as they aren’t killed. Based on that, Undyne is probably quite young and Gerson is incredibly old even for a Monster, and yet only recently he’s stopped charging around fighting bad guys. Since Undyne was with him, those bad guys were in the Underground, and his distinction of her attacking not so bad folk like the mailman, means that he was probably in an official capacity to fight crime, such as a guardsman, or maybe captain of the royal guard. So. Even though there’s plenty of time for a prophecy to spring up naturally. We have a number of Monsters who have actually lived that long that would be more than happy to correct mistakes and assumptions. Gerson is quite elderly and is a tad forgetful, but he still knows much. Characters such as Toriel and Asgore are still hale and hearty, and both had witnessed so much. Though we know very little about the character, Elder Puzzler is also implied to be quite aged and knows a great deal about the “Puzzling Roots” of Monster History. You’re probably wondering what all of this is leading to. Well with these characters in place to maintain knowledge of history in the populace, then we have an Underground which created a prophecy AFTER it was trapped there, which leads me to conclude that when the prophecy was created, it must have been referencing something older than the War of Monsters and Humans.

��The original meaning has been lost to time... All we know is that the triangles symbolize us monsters below, and the winged circle above symbolizes... Somethin' else. Most people say it's the 'angel,' from the prophecy...” ‘Angel’. This is when we hear about the angel. We see the Deltarune on Toriel’s clothing and on the Ruins door. As well as behind Gerson himself. The thing he mentions clearly has wings of some kind. Surrounding a ball (note to self: Look into possible connection between mythical ball artifact from the piano room and the Deltarune Emblem). It looks a little like the fairy from the Zelda series. Those “triangles” are the greek letter Delta. That letter has a lot of connections and meanings to it. A river delta is shaped like the letter which is how it got its name. There are a number of maths and science connections. But the two connections you’d be interested in are that a Delta chord is another name for a Major Seventh Chord in music. The soundtrack of Undertale uses these chords to do fantastic things with the tone and aesthetic of its leitmotifs, changing them from a happy or hopeful tune, to a dark and despairing one without actually changing the melody. And in a subfield of Set Theory, a branch of mathematics and philosophical logic, it is used to calculate and examines the conditions under which one or the other player of a game has a winning strategy, and the consequences of the existence of such strategies. The games studied in set theory are usually Gale–Stewart games—two-player games of perfect information (each player, when making any decision, is perfectly informed of all the events that have previously occurred, including the "initialization event" of the game (e.g. the starting hands of each player in a card game)) in which the players make an infinite sequence of moves and there are no draws. But why is one of them turned upside down? I started looking things up again. Turns out there is such a symbol. The Nabla symbol is the Greek Letter Delta only inverted so that it appears upside down. Its name comes from the Phoenician harp shape, though its also called the “Del”. A musical connection is exactly what Toby would do. But its main use is in mathematics, where it is a mathematical notation to represent three different operators which make equations infinitely easier to write. These equations are all concerned with what is called Physical Mathematics. That is... Mathematics that calculate and have to do with measuring the physical world. Why is that relevant? Well the difference between humans and monsters is that humans have physical bodies while monsters are made primarily of magic. Well I also discovered that the Delta symbol for the ancient Greeks was sometimes used to as an abbreviation for the word  δύση , which meant the West in the compass points. West, westerly, sunset, twilight, nightfall, dusk, darkness, decline, end of a day. All this symbolism for a couple of triangles. There’s entire books devoted to them. And he calls the whole symbol, deltas and angel alike, the Delta RUNE. Whats a rune? Well a rune is a letter, but specifically a letter from the writing of one of the Germanic Languages before the adoption of the Latin alphabet. Interestingly... the Greek Letter Delta does NOT qualify as a Rune. In any stretch of the word. I searched for hours. What I DID find was the etymological origins of the word Rune. It comes from a Proto-Germanic word “rūnō“ which means something along the lines of “whisper, mystery, secret,  secret conversation, letter”. Interesting. So since its paired up with the Delta... it could be taken to mean “The Secret of the Delta” or “The Delta’s Secret”. If we make a few assumptions we might even get something like “The Secret of the West” or “The Mystery of the Twilight” or numerous other variations that have different connotations. It’s conjecture, certainly, and possibly a few stretches. But it is certainly there to think about. My thoughts centered around the positioning of the letters. The idea that the one facing up represented Humanity, and the two ordinary Deltas were Monsters. With the Angel above them all. Or rather, SOMETHING above them all. We have no proof that the idea of an Angel existed before the Underground’s prophecy. I like to think it did because usually that sort of thing draws on previously existing beliefs and ideas. For all we know the symbol could represent an abstract idea that governed both monsters and humans. Like “Kill or be killed” or “Do unto others as you would have others do unto you” or other basic idiomatic ideologies of that sort. Other than the realization that the Deltarune is older than the prophecy and the Underground, I didn’t have a concrete idea of what the Emblem actually means. Just a lot of theories and connective ideas. But there’s certainly a lot to be found. I don’t really know how much thought Toby actually put into this, but he’s quite well known for secrets within secrets. So its possible he knew all this going in. If he’s anything like me, and I am notorious for writing this sort of twisting references within references within references into my stories, then he’s probably at least aware of an existing connection. Its quite probably that the Deltarune is exactly what Gerson tells us. An emblematic set of symbols that is used to represent the continuing Kingdom of Monsters and has been since before written history. But as he says... its so old that it might have had a different meaning originally, whatever idea the Monsters wanted to remember, wanted to uphold enough to use it for their royal family and their kingdom, a reminder. Of something, or someone.

[liddolwhynot2000]

Unprecedented Reactions

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Summary: You were too busy kicking one of the drunk soldiers in the stomach to notice the way steel eyes flashed gratefully at you.

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Pairings: Levi/Reader

Genre: Romance, bad dream, death!, Soldier!Reader, Levi deserves happiness

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One second, you're pushing Levi out of the way of an incoming large hand and the other, everything goes black.

Only for you to wake up in your bed.

It was a nightmare, you were sure of that. It had taken you a little while to gather your bearings, but once you had, you hadn't been able to go back to sleep.

You laid back in bed, arms sprawled everywhere while being lost in thought.

Even if it had been real, it hardly mattered that you had died. You weren't some special soldier whose loss had had any impact, which is why you don't mind the idea of giving up your life for Humanity's Strongest Soldier. He's the one who will make a difference-you're a nobody. A poor orphan born in Wall Maria, who had been forced to enlist in her 20s to keep making a living.

You had considered joining the Garrison, but had decided that you had nothing to lose. No parents or friends to mourn you, no lover you would be leaving behind. There was nothing stopping you from at least doing what you could for humanity. As far as you're concerned, this way you die having given some meaning to your life.

And a part of you hopes that you die the way you had dreamed. If your death prevented Humanity from losing its most promising and powerful soldier, you would do it a thousand times over. You would save him in exchange for your own life and you feel sure that you wouldn't regret that decision one bit.

After all, could anyone ever regret saving the person they were hopelessly in love with?

____________________________________

You never told Levi how you felt, feeling too shy.

You first met him when you had enlisted, only a few mere months after he had. You hadn't known the story behind him much, although the gossip mill had been rife with talks about it. You had seen him and his friends, walking around, keeping away from everyone. Approaching them hadn't crossed your mind, for you were too busy preparing for the upcoming expedition and trying to calm your nerves. It had been your first expedition.

It was only after that terrifying expedition ended that you realized Levi had returned alone, his companions absent from his side. There hadn't been any need to ask him what had happened, his pained expression had been explaination enough.

Later that night, he had shut himself in his room in the barracks. His absence at dinner indicated that he hadn't eaten anything, and against your better judgement, you decided to bring him some.

The door hadn't been locked, and once you had cautiously peeked in, you noticed him lying in the bed. He was facing towards the wall, wrapped in a blanket, and hadn't so much as shifted at sound of the door opening. Maybe he was actually asleep, or he was pretending so he wouldn't have to deal with anyone. You couldn't blame him.

You set down the tray as silently as possible. It had a bowl of soup, two loafs of bread and some ration bars you had found. Just as you moved to turn, you paused, catching sight of him again.

It was an internal battle, that raged on for what felt like hours but was really only a minute. While you could chance trying to talk to him, you sincerely doubted it would go well. You were a stranger and in the past few months, the only people he had even held small conversations with had been his friends. His superiors often got rude, one worded responses from him and friendly comrades had been terrified into silence with glares. You were more likely to piss him off then actually help him.

Resolving to yourself that the food was enough on your part, you quietly crept out of the room, determined to not disturb him.

Once you had shut the door, you sighed, feeling the exhaustion of today's events creep up on you. This was the price of joining the Survey Corps and sating your morals, losing people every expedition. This feeling of loss and despair would be your new constant.

Rubbing a hand on your forehead, you tried to soothe the headache away as you walked back to your room. You stopped short of turning in the corridor as you heard a group of soldiers.

'H-Hey did you see that midget from the underground?'

Your eyes narrowed and you found yourself leaning against the wall as you listened intently.

'Yeah. You see the nerve he has, locking himself up in that room like he's actually mourning. That fucker didn't even join for the cause'

You frowned as another voice joined in. They were all clearly drunk.

'Let's.. Let's teach that midget a lesson. I bet he's putting it on. He's just scum from the underground, he doesn't even belong here.'

You felt horrified as two other soldiers agreed with him. They had all unanimously decided to go wake up Levi up and taunt him about the death of his friends.

While you could agree that Levi clearly hadn't joined willingly, you felt that it was too cruel to go after him like this. Especially when he was already so heart broken.

You weren't the best soldier, but you could kick ass when you needed to. It may be three on one, but if the way their voices were slurring as they talked were to be considered, you had the advantage of not being a dumbass drunk.

As the soldiers came into your view, you rolled your sleeves up.

You were too busy kicking one of the drunk soldiers in the stomach to notice the way steel eyes flashed gratefully at you.

____________________________________

You could never say you and Levi spent a lot of time together. The two of you had joined around the same time, but Levi had scaled the ranks much more quickly. He had, due to his outstanding skills, joined the most elite squad.

You had remained a mediocre soldier at best, and you were content with it. You didn't have an amazing titan kill count nor fists of steel like Levi, but you did whatever was assigned to you just fine. It was life you could even say you were proud of.

You had, much like the rest of your cormades, braced yourself for death. Any expedition could be your last. In fact, you often set out for expeditions expecting to never come back. Some sort of fate had been keeping you alive so far.

It was luck that kept you alive so far- and then it was Levi.

Levi had saved you from a titan during an expedition. You had been helpless, all out of blades. Your squad had been utterly annihilated and you had been in the midst of struggling as a large hand grabbed you and a titan opened its mouth to eat you.

It's why your dream is so hard to forget. It was earily similar to back when Levi had saved you. You would find yourself in that position again. A titan and it's hand tossing you in its mouth. And much like this time, Levi would be there too.

Except he wouldn't be the one doing the saving.

Back then, he had intervened at the speed of light and saved you. His expression had been as stoic as always, eyes scanning your form for injuries. Once he had found that you had no life threatening wounds, he had helped you up and back to HQ.

It had later made you blush, remembering how his strong arms had helped you settle on his horse with him.

That had been the start of your feelings for him. It hadn't just been the fact that he had saved you, it had been how gentle how he was with you. You had seen how he treated others, talking roughly, trying to be helpful in his own awkward way. He often physically kept away from others, but for some reason, he hadn't hesitated a second in touching you.

You knew better then to delude yourself that it was special treatment-but you couldn't stop your heart from fluttering anyways.

____________________________________

The two of you never grew beyond anything but casual friends. You're sure that the dream you hadn't regretted dying for him. You, however, know for a fact that you had regretted being a coward and not telling him how you felt.

Now, here you are, very much alive and kicking. It is possible this was just the wishful thinking of a soldier destined to die. Its possible your dream has shaken you to the point of making rash decisions. But you don't care.

All your mind knows is that you aren't chomped in half. That you are well enough to walk up to Levi and talk to him. Dream or not, you want to tell him. You want him to know how he makes your heart beat in a way that no one ever had. You want to tell him that you harbour feelings for him that go beyond comraderie.

And most importantly, you want him to know that you want him.

It was a painful itch- one you won't be able to get rid of. Not until you fess up.

It doesn't matter that you're signing up for an absolute guaranteed rejection. It doesn't matter that you know he won't be nice about it. As far as you're concerned, the end goal isn't getting into a relationship. This is your shot at confessing, at amkigm sure you that you die without regrets.

No matter what the outcome, you know your feelings won't change. And that is what makes it easier for you to confess.

____________________________________

You have been working with Levi for a solid five years now. You know him rather well, considering that he's one of the few comrades who, much like you, have miraculously lived through being in the survey corps for an unusual amount of time.

While others couldn't classify you as best buddies, you know plenty about each other.

You know that he made special graves for each comrade that lost their lives. He would take their insignia off their jacket as a symbol of their wills. You also know that he had started this tradition since Isabel and Farlan died. Every soldier, no matter how they behaved with him, had been included. You know this because you had caught sight of him in the middle of his task. And without a single word, you had picked up a shovel and joined him in his task.

Levi hadn't said a word to you, silently accepting your help. You had been too busy trying to even out the dirt with your foot to notice steel eyes flashing at you with fondness.

You know more about him then that too. And he knows about you as well. In particular, the two of you had picked up on how the other liked their tea. It was silent gesture, one where if either was nearby and making tea, there would be enough for two people. Hange had once tried to snag the extra cup of tea Levi had in his hand for you- only to find herself best friends with the floor.

You had learned how to live up to his cleaning standards-to the point you held the unprecedented position of being the one person he had never attacked for being a slob. It's wonderful feeling-being the special one he had never been harsh with.

You thought you knew him well. Enough to know his reactions to certain things and situations, enough to pin point how he was feeling at certain times.

So when you confess to being in love with him-you are forced to realize that you don't know this man as well as you thought you had.

The Levi you know was supposd to reject you brutally. He was supposed to harshly tell you to get your head out of the clouds and stop fantasising like a school girl. To get over your shitty feelings and leave him out of it.

But the Levi in front of you is different. He isn't pushing you away-no, his hands are grabbing your wrists and tugging you into an embrace. His forehead is resting against yours. Those steel eyes you had never quite caught expressing anything, are filled to the brim with affection.

You've been proven wrong and frankly, as his lip softly brush against yours, you're glad about it.

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A/N: Heyooo. don't know where this came from. This feels like a 'felt cute might delete later fic'. I hope it was enjoyable at least? I can see a part 2 for this from Levi POV but don't know if anyone even liked this, let alone wants a part 2.

Also ruins part 2 is half way done :)

[yumekuimono]

greg rucka is wrong about how old andy is and here’s why

Greg Rucka, author of both The Old Guard comics and the screenplay, claims Andy is 6,000 years old. Charlize Theron and other members of the movie’s creative team have repeated the number, although it’s not stated in the movie itself--when questioned, Andy just says she’s “too old” and Booker tells Nile that Andy’s forgotten.

Now, besides the fact that 6,000 is a patently ridiculous age, even for someone who can’t die, me and my twelve Wikipedia articles would beg to differ on the historical accuracy of Andy being quite that old. (Keep in mind, though, that I haven’t read the comics. I’m going off of this official timeline video--which does include some comic panels--and the brief flashbacks we get in the movie.)

First of all, if Andy’s 6,000 years old, that puts her date of birth around 4000 BCE

the Scythian cultures did not exist in 4000 BCE

the cultures that would become the Scythian cultures did not exist in 4000 BCE

in 4000 BCE, Mesopotamian civilization was just getting started, the Indus River Valley civilization had yet to invent writing, and the hot new invention was the pottery wheel, although nobody had figured out how to turn that sideways to make a vehicle yet

more importantly, horses had not been domesticated (okay, technically 4000 BCE is the oldest proposed date for the domestication of horses, but there’s much stronger evidence supporting domestication closer to 2000 BCE)

HOW ARE YOU GOING TO BE A HORSELORD RAIDER SWEEPING ACROSS THE STEPPE IF HORSES HADN’T BEEN DOMESTICATED YET

Andy’s also shown in comic panels using stirrups at this time, which wouldn’t come into widespread use until the 3rd century CE in China, but whatever

my point is

if Andy’s old enough to be a Proto-Indo-European

why is her name Andromache the Scythian

Classical Scythian culture reached its height between 700-300 BCE

by that point, Andy would have been 3,300 years old already

she found Quynh in 1000 BCE

yet in flashbacks Quynh calls her Andromache, a name she had to have acquired after they met

heck, Andy calls herself Andromache the Scythian, and continues to do so for the next 3,000-ish years

what would have been so great about those few centuries in Scythia that that’s the name and title Andy chooses to go with over her birth-name or any other approximation of it or where she’s from

there’s absolutely no reason for her to

except that Greg Rucka did approximately zero research when deciding this

well, that’s not true. he did enough to know that the Scythians were the inspiration for the Amazons in Ancient Greek writing. Andy is clearly THE Amazon archetype

yet he somehow decided that making Andy contemporary with ANCIENT SUMERIA was just totally fine???

Anyway, I have taken my hammer (and my sixteen Wikipedia articles) and fixed the canon. You’re welcome, Mr. Rucka.

I said above that the height of Classical Scythian culture was from 700-300 BCE. this is true for the tribes that came to dominate the Pontic steppe, between the Black Sea and the Caspian Sea

but there were other groups of similar cultures that stretched across the whole Eurasian steppe

contemporary Greek and Persian writers lumped them all together under one name

modern scholars still refer to them collectively as Scythian cultures (despite some confusion in the literature as a result)

these various cultures flourished from 900 BCE to 200 CE

so Andy becomes immortal around 900 BCE

she’s almost 3,000 years old. that’s still way older than anyone else in the Old Guard

Quynh becomes immortal around 500 BCE. She’s likely a member of the Yue kingdom in what is now southern China/northern Vietnam (purely my headcanon, though--other people feel free to imagine differently). Andy has been completely alone for 400 years.

it takes a century for Andy to find Quynh, so about 400 BCE. This is during the Warring States Period in China, a time of such prolonged conflict that it would make sense for Quynh to have given in to despair (again this bit is pure headcanon).

that gives them plenty of time to meet up with Lykon when he becomes immortal in 331 BCE, and the rest of the canon timeline can proceed from there without making me implode

i hope you like it

[batsandbugs]

Bats Bugs and Boomerangs Chapter 1

A/N: Hey everyone, coming at you with another series! This is actually for a late secret santa gift exchange! My recipient was @m3owww​! Her fandoms were Maribat and Avatar the Last Airbender, so I thought: Why not both? She already had a Maribat characters in the show type fic, so I created a fic where they watched the show. It slowly spiraled out of control though, so this is Chapter 1. I’ll eventually have the batfam (and Marinette) react to the whole series, so comment here and on ao3 what you want to see. So Phi, this is kinda like the gift that will keep on giving? Maybe? I hope you like it anyway. Enjoy! 

Our story begins on a frosty winter evening, outside Gotham at Wayne Manor. Marinette sat in the library working on an assignment for her History of Fashion class. She was alone, because Damian, Dick, Tim, and Bruce were out on patrol, with Barbara on comms. Tikki, unless eating or involved with a transformation, spent her time sleeping due to the freezing weather. While the other Kwami either resided in the box or roamed the grounds, and generally stayed out of the human's way.

Marinette gazed out the window, snow falling softly through the air, covering the ground and the tree branches. A crackling fire warmed the room. She shifted, and a painful ache shot through her leg. Marinette glared at the offending appendage, which was the reason she wasn’t out with the team tonight.

Her Miraculous could cure any injury sustained on the battlefield, it didn’t help her one bit when it came to her own natural clumsiness. She hadn’t paid attention as she’d walked out of class one evening. The dim lighting hid a black ice patch and she slipped and fell. Thankfully, her ankle was only sprained and not broken, but she would be out of commission for at least two weeks. Probably more if Alfred got his way.

Speaking of the elderly butler, he strode into the room carrying a tray of tea and cookies.

“Good evening Miss. Marinette. Need another refreshment?”

She sighed at the cold coffee dregs in her mug. “That would be nice, thank you, Alfred.”

He hummed, grabbing a teacup, and pouring her a serving. “How does your leg feel today? I notice you were leaning heavily on Master Damian after supper.” He handed the cup to her and the warmth was a welcome sensation for her chilled hands.

“Yeah, he’s been nice helping me around.” Nice was a misnomer, more like extremely overprotective. He point-blank refused for her to stay at her own apartment, mostly due to its location on the fourth floor with no elevator access. He all but forced her to watch him pack her essentials to bring to the manor while she recovered. Since then, his attentiveness in ensuring she had what she needed within reach and helping her to class had grown. It was a tad smothering considering his usual aloofness, but she enjoyed his actions for the affection it implied.

“It’s throbbing and hot and feels worse than it did three days ago.” She took a tiny sip of the tea and relaxed into its spiced aroma. Alfred made the best tea.  

He nodded. “It will feel uncomfortable for a while until it starts to mend. Just continue to rest and remain off it and you will be back to carousing around the city like the rest of them in no time.” He poured his own tea and seated himself in the plush armchair across from her spot on the couch.

“Oh, Alfred you say that as if you would not be right there along with us if age allowed,” said Marinette with a grin. The stories Dusu could recount about the elderly miraculous holder were nothing short of entertaining, and she knew damn well Alfred had the same need for action as the rest of the Waynes and their assorted allies.  

“I’d do nothing of the sort,” he said primly, taking a sip of his tea to hide the tiny smirk on his face. Marinette couldn’t help but laugh.

The rest of the evening was spent in pleasant silence. Despite the pain in her leg Marinette pushed through it and finished her assignment, while Alfred read until it neared time when patrol ended. He bustled up the remains of the tea and promise her a fresh cup when he finished seeing everyone arrive safely.

Later, although she could not say how long, she was buried deep in a book and didn’t notice when Damian entered the room until he sat next to her on the couch.

“Good evening angel.” His hair flopped in his eyes, loose and damp from the shower. In his hands, he held a tray with two cups of steaming tea.

“Thanks.” She took the proffered cup of tea with a smile. “How was patrol?”

“Boring,” he sighed. “You certainly are not missing anything.” If he wouldn’t have taken offense to it, Marinette would have described the look on his face as a pout.

“What about the drug seller Tim tracked to the lower docks?”

Damian shrugged. “Gone silent after we busted the last shipment. Seventeen years in and maybe the criminals finally figured out committing crimes in the same city as a relentless vigilante team is a bad idea,” he said with a raised eyebrow and a smirk. Marinette couldn’t stop herself from giggling. It was a common joke among the family that Gotham’s criminals never learned.

“I think it means we’re doing our job right,” said Tim walking in with a steaming mug. Marinette opened her mouth, but he cut her off. “Don’t worry, it’s decaf.”

“Like Pennyworth would let him drink anything else this time of night,” scoffed Damian, while taking a sip of his tea.

“I’m perfectly capable of monitoring my own caffeine intake, thanks,” Tim said in offense, seating himself across from the couch in the reading chair previously abandoned by Alfred.

“No, you’re not,” called a voice from the hallway. Dick walked in with a large mug of what was undoubtedly hot chocolate. “The last time he didn’t check your drink after patrol, you used coffee instead of water to brew another pot, and then added four whole bottles of five-hour energy. You didn’t sleep for three days.”

“I also solved five crimes, figured out where the Penguin was hiding, and streamlined the dropbox submission system for Wayne Industries. Life requires tradeoffs.”

“No that’s just you, ignoring basic human necessities. Anyway, besides Tim’s caffeine addiction, what are we talking about?” asked Dick.

“The reason for the lack of crime,” offered Marinette.

Dick shrugged, “Happens every year because of the weather. Even criminals get cold. They’ll return to their usual transgressions once the weather warms.” He took a sip of his hot chocolate.

“Tt. Weak,” muttered Damian.

Tim rolled his eyes. “Not everyone receives extreme weather training under threat of dismemberment, demon brat. We should take the opportunity to enjoy the break.”

“Tim, your version of a “break” involves paperwork,” chided Dick.

“It’s not my fault the rest of you people don’t have lives. I’m a remarkably busy person. And what is this, the-criticize-Tim-hour?”

“Oh, only an hour?” smirked Damian. “I thought it was a continuous event, one could choose to participate in whenever the mood struck. I will have to file all my complaints immediately.”

Tim pouted. “Marinette,” he whined. “Can’t you control him?”

She shrugged, “What do you expect me to do? I’m his girlfriend, not his minder. Besides, they criticize because they care.” She laughed when all three boys snarled their noses at the prospect of feelings.

“Marinette, angel, please; never say that again. I criticize because I am right, and they should know it. Not because of any high-minded ideals such as genuine affection.”

“Okay, okay, enough,” said Dick. “If we have a bit of a break, we should do something! Together, as a family. I think Cass and Steph come back in two days.”

“Grayson, just because your girlfriend is off-world visiting family and you have nothing to do does not mean it holds true for the rest of us.”

“Exactly!” exclaimed Tim, “Except not quite, because I don’t have a girlfriend, but I just said I’m busy. R&D is rolling out a new prototype next week, and I have two board meetings scheduled and-”

“Not to mention,” Marinette cut Tim off. He could talk about his schedule forever because he just had that many events. “I can’t move around, what would we even do? Play games?”

Tim rolled his eyes. “The list of games officially banned in our family includes, but is not limited to; Monopoly, Uno, Checkers, Risk, Risk: Legacy, Twister, Jenga, Clue, Guess Who, Poker, Chess, and Go Fish.”

“Oh…” muttered Marinette.

“And that doesn’t even include videogames.”

“After the Wii Bowling incident of 2013, the media room wall was never the same,” Dick said, shaking his head in despair.

“I actually apologized for that, okay?” exclaimed Damian. “Why do you always have to bring it up?”

Marinette fully intended to ask about the incident later. “Okay, so games are out.”

“Ooh,” Dick’s eyes lit up, “How about we call a Family T.V. Event?”

Tim groaned, “The last time we did that we blew up the shed, and got the police called.”

“Well, we won’t watch a crime show.” Dick turned to Marinette. “Jason picked; we watched Breaking Bad.”

“I can see how that would spiral out of control.”

“The time before that, we set fire to the media room and started a familial feud,” Damian pointed out. “Game of Thrones,” he added when Marinette looked to him for clarification.

“Even worse.”

“Okay, fine, so we don’t have the best track record picking shows. But I swear I have a good one this time.” He paused for dramatic effect. “Avatar: The Last Airbender.”

Tim snorted. “What? Like the kid’s show?”

Damian rolled his eyes. “Really Grayson, a cartoon? I know you are developmentally stuck at five, but not all of us are.”

“I’ve never watched it, but I’ve heard good things about it,” said Marinette. She knew there was a French translation of the show, but she preferred to watch media in its original language. Before moving to America, before dating Damian, her English had not been strong enough to confidently watch a show and understand all of it.

“Perfect!” exclaimed Dick. “I know you three and Cass haven’t seen it, and neither has Bruce or Alfred. I would bet Jason’s seen some of it, but I’ll have to check. Barbara and I have, but that’s fine, she loves the show. We’ll have to see about Steph too, but I’m sure she’ll enjoy it regardless. There are awesome characters, battles, suspense, comedy, and it’s not likely going to inspire us to blow up the shed or tear each other to pieces!”

“I have in no way agreed to this Grayson. Drake back me up.”

Tim paused for a moment, stuck between his need to disagree with Damian and the need to get out of Dick’s crazy plan. Unfortunately for Damian, the former won out. “Actually, you know what, a show could be fun. The episodes are what, thirty minutes? Shorter than Breaking Bad and Game of Thrones.”

Damian groaned while Dick responded happily, ignoring his brother’s distress, “Around twenty minutes actually. We could have the whole show finished in about a week or so.”

Damian turned to her, eyes wide and hopeful. “Marinette, please tell me you are on my side?”

She patted her boyfriend’s arm, “Sorry, mon amour, I’m stuck either way. Might as well watch a show.”

Damian flopped against the couch with a pout. “Betrayed. I have been grievously betrayed by my own brothers and girlfriend. What is this world coming to?”

“Woo!” exclaimed Dick, a wide grin splitting his face. “This is going to be great.”

“This is going to be awful,” moaned Damian.

-0-0-

It took a bit of convincing on the part of Dick to get Bruce and Alfred to agree to the venture. Marinette, after learning the full details of the last two Family T.V. Events, was wholly unsurprised. She also did not know the full extent of what Dick did to get Jason to agree (apparently, he and Bruce were fighting, again, so this was expected.) although it probably involved a bribe. But by the week’s end, the entire family was together, all under strict orders (and puppy-dog eyes from Dick) to be on their best behavior.

Which, without a doubt, not a single one of them knew what that entailed.

The arguing started with seating placement, then about who controlled the remote, then over the distribution of snacks, drinks, blankets, and pillows. At one point Jason pulled a knife, which prompted Damian to pull his knife, suddenly Cass had two shurikens visible (where she even kept them while wearing a tank top and shorts, no one could say), and then everyone was yelling with sharp pointy objects in hand.

Once the argument was firmly under control, Alfred collected the weapons and placed them in a wicker basket, along with all the mobile devices, until the episodes for the night were finished. The only one allowed to have a phone was Barbara who was in charge of checking police scanners for any major trouble while the family took the evening off.

Marinette seated herself curled up against Damian on the edge of the couch. She set her foot propped up on an ottoman so it wouldn’t get jostled, and she could continue to ice it throughout the evening. Damian secured their own bowl of popcorn, so they didn’t have to share it with the others.

“Alright, here’s how we’re breaking this down,” announced Dick, who won the battle for the remote, and therefore the episode schedule. “The episodes are short, at least, much shorter than the last show we watched.” He directed a pointed look at Jason.

“I make no apologies.”

“We’ll watch half a season a day, ten episodes apiece. The closed captions will be on but try to keep the chatter to a minimum.” Marinette held back a laugh. Damian explained no one kept quiet during these nights. Watching the show wasn’t the point of these events; if that were the case then they would just watch it all on their own time. The point was the time spent together. This is why even Bruce, emotionally constipated and single-minded in his pursuits as he was, put away the suit for a few days to watch T.V. with the rest of his collected family. Talking was expected.  

“We will, if you will,” called Stephanie.  

“I take offense to that.”

“Aw just sit Dickie, let’s watch the show,” exclaimed Jason.

“Yes, Grayson you already wrapped us into this pointless venture; we might as well get it over with,” Damian grumbled. Marinette found his hand in the folds of their shared blanket and laced her fingers with his. He squeezed her hand, and, when he was sure no one else was looking gave her a small smile. Marinette smiled back, he pretended to be such a grouch, but deep down he was a giant softy at heart.

Dick frowned, saying “Fine, fine, you don’t have to be spoilsports about it.” And pointed the remote at the T.V. starting the first episode.

-0-0-

It didn’t take ten seconds before the commentary began.

“Four elements?” exclaimed Tim.  “Are you serious? I could name at least a dozen off the top of my head. How are there only four nations? 0/10 completely unrealistic. Political infighting alone-”

“Ah, shut up, replacement.”

“Ruthless fire nation?” said Stephanie. “Methinks a little propaganda might be occurring here.”

“A hundred years!? What, has no one competent been born the entire time?”

Marinette shrugged. “The disadvantages of finite magic systems, Dami. It's learned indifference.”

“Honey, after a hundred years that’s not hoping, that’s naivety,” said Stephanie in response to Katara’s impassioned speech.

“She’s right!” exclaimed Dick.

“We know that, but she doesn’t.”

The show moved on to Katara and Sokka in a boat. Sokka held a spear above the water.

“Is he hunting that fish?” growled Damian.

“Ah yeah, I forgot you may hate the entirety of Sokka’s character,” said Dick with a grimace. “Whoops.”

“She’s not very good at the water moving, is she?” asked Marinette

“Waterbending,” Dick and Barbara said in unison.

Sokka chided Katara about her weird water magic. “Oh, he’s not going to be a dick for the whole show, is he?” asked Steph.

“He gets better.”

“They grew up here right?” asked Damian, as Katara and Sokka become caught in a rapid. “How did they not anticipate an event like this.”

“I knew I should have left you at home. Leave it to a girl to screw things up!”

“HEY!” shouted all the women in the room.

They watched as Katara’s fury built and broke the iceberg behind her.

“Good. Use anger, anger is alright,” Cass commented for the first time.

“Okay, you’ve gone from weird, to freakish.”

“This punk is just asking for a beating isn’t he,” growled Jason.

The beam of energy shot into the air after Katara and Sokka broke open the ice. “That’s not going to cause any trouble,” said Tim, rolling his eyes. “Nope, not suspicious or completely conspicuous at all.”

The scene switches to a metal ship.

“Finally! Uncle, do you realize what this means?”

“Oh, look, the bad guys,” deadpanned Tim. “I was right.”

Jason grabbed a handful of popcorn and shoved it into his mouth “What happened to his fucked-up fa-”

“YOU’LL FIND OUT!”

The scene switched back to Katara and Sokka. The figure is revealed to be a hyperactive little kid.

Damian frowned“Oh, I won’t like him either, will I Grayson?”

Dick tilted his head, “Eh.”

Then Appa is introduced.

“Father, could we-”

“No, Damian.”

They watched the children depart, and the scene moved back to the Fire Nation ship.

“Even if you're right, and the Avatar is alive, you won't find him. Your father, grandfather, and great-grandfather all tried and failed.”

“Well considering the Airbender child has been in an iceberg, it’s not surprising they failed.”

“Because their honor didn't hinge on the Avatar's capture. Mine does. This coward's hundred years in hiding are over.”

“Is it just me or does this angry, emo prince remind anyone of demon spawn?”

“Todd, shut your mouth before I remove your tongue.”  

Marinette leaned in close, “Maybe just a little like you.” Damian looked at her with a betrayed pout.

The scene switched and they watched Aang lie to Katara about the Avatar.

“The air child is guilty. Will cause problems later.”

“Narrative Cass, it’s narrative.”

Damian scoffed. “Miscommunication is plot convenience, and it’s a sloppy one at that.”

They watched Aang’s dream of how he ended up in the iceberg, him waking up to Katara and his introduction to the village.

“Well, no one has seen an Airbender in a hundred years. We thought they were extinct until my granddaughter and grandson found you.”

“Extinct?”

“He went into the ice and woke up to find the world different. Anyone getting serious Captain America vibes here?” said Jason, tone-deaf to the clear horror on Aang's face.

“Jason, he just found out his people potentially went extinct!” chided Marinette. 

“It's not for stabbing! It's for air bending.”

“Please tell me the main character is not a pacifist,” begged Damian.

“Well, he is a monk,” said Barbara with a sorry look.

“I sense he's filled with much wisdom,” Katara says as Aang sticks his tongue to his staff and it freezes.

“I switch back and forth between liking this girl and not. One second she’s got gumption, and the next she’s all starry-eyed and naïve,” grumbled Steph.

“I wonder who that reminds me of,” Damian whispered into Marinette’s ear. She felt her cheeks heat up.

"I'm not naive," she shot back. 

He raised a hand with two fingers close but not touching, "You're a little naive." Marinette huffed, but silently admitted to her boyfriend's point. She had a tendency to believe the best in people; she saw it as a strength and appreciated it in this Katara character, but it was so far from how Damian viewed the world, it honestly confused his siblings when they first started dating. 

Damian confided in her that he found it inspiring. She had been through so much, understood the cruelties of others, and still could see the good in people. 

The scene switched to the Fire Nation ship again, and Iroh explained the concept of firebending to an irate Prince Zuko.

“Finally, a display of actual competence,” exclaimed Damian.

“Enough! I've been drilling this sequence all day. Teach me the next set! I'm more than ready!”

“My tutors would have skewered me if I dared to act in such a manner,” he commented again, softer than the first time. More so that only Marinette could hear. Damian’s family was more than aware of his childhood and what it entailed; Marinette slowly learned with comments like this. She squeezed his hand again and received a small smile.

The scene shifted back to the village where Sokka’s failed “warrior lesson” occurred, and then-

“We don't have time for fun and games with the War going on!”

“What war? What are you talking about?”

“Where have you been, frozen in ice for a hundred years?” joked Dick.

They watched Aang offer to take Katara to the North Pole to find a water bending master. The two children go and play with the penguin creatures, but the tone shifted when an old Fire Nation ship appeared on the screen.

“Bad ship” muttered Cass.

“If you want to be a bender, you have to let go of fear.”

“There are so many things wrong with that statement I don’t even know where to start,” said Tim.

They watch Aang and Katara enter the Fire Nation Ship and wander talking about the war.

“Aang, how long were you in that iceberg?”

“I don't know. A few days, maybe?”

“I think it was more like a hundred years!”

“Are you kidding me?” yelled Jason. “How are they just figuring this out now?”

On-screen Aang stepped on the line of wire, tripping the traps.

“Tt. Amateurs.”

"See, she told him it would be a bad idea!"

A flare rises through the air.

“That’s not going to cause any-”

“Oh, shut up Tim.”

The Fire Prince once again appeared on the screen.

“The last Airbender!”

“I was right,” he mumbled.

The screen faded to the credits, and Dick turned to the group.

“So? What do you think?”

“Slow.”

“Nobody has any sense.”

“Are any of the characters actually likable?”

He frowned. “Okay, okay, so the first episode isn’t the best. I swear it gets better. Back me up here Barb.”

Barbara nodded. “He’s right, it takes a few episodes to build the characters up and we see some genuine action. But by mid-season, I swear you’ll be hooked. And then we’ll get to season two and the best characters will arrive.”

“Hey,” Dick exclaimed, pointing a finger at her. “No spoilers.”

“I thought it was fun,” Marinette offered. “It’s very clearly a kid’s show, but I don’t think that’s a bad thing.” She wasn’t going to say each and every person in the room had childhood traumas, and a show full of lighthearted fun was probably just what they needed. She could think it, but she wouldn’t say it.   

“Thank you, Marinette,” said Dick with a smile.

“I rather enjoyed the elderly tea drinker,” intoned Alfred. “He’s more than he appears to be.”

“Uncle Iroh? Yeah, he’s the best!” commented Barbara. "But everyone is great." 

“Alright, episode one finished, nine more to go.”

“Let’s hope it’s more enjoyable than the last,” uttered Damian, a chorus of agreement followed his statement, but when the show started up everyone grew quiet again.

Marinette was sure whatever happened next, it was bound to be interesting.

Tag List (Although it is on ao3 too) 

@m3owww​ @your-resident-chimken-nuggie​  @loveswifi​ @fusser90​@animegirlweeb​​ @ihavehomeworkbutistillhere​​

[buckyjamesbarnes1917]

Endlessly

A/N: Reader is a survivor of the Super Soldier Serum Experiment and continues to be haunted by the nightmares & terrors she had to endure during her time as one of HYDRA's pets. One day when she's thinking her existence simply doesn't matter in the world, someone from her past showed up unexpectedly. This does contain a little bit of TFATWS spoilers!

Warnings: Suicidal Thoughts, Nightmares/terrors, and torture & death. (All three & flashbacks are in italics)

“P-p-please no, you don’t have to do this, I have a family,”  said a man trembling and begging for mercy on his life with tears rolling down at his face at the end of the barrel of the gun

I just stood there with the same cold, blank stare that stayed upon my face on every mission, mind unfazed, no emotions, the way HYDRA created me. I still felt part of my mind screaming “Don’t! He’s done nothing wrong!” but my mind couldn’t fight against the forces & the control HYDRA has on me. I pulled the trigger and muttered, “The mission is finalized.” After I determined the man to have no sign of life, I stepped over the body to then feel his hands grasped my ankles and then I saw his bloodied face frozen with an agonizing expression.

I awoke suddenly to then start panicking, thinking I was still within HYDRA’s facility where they still had control over me & tortured me to do their biddings. After I finally calmed my breathing down, I reminded myself, “You’re okay, you’re safe in your own apartment, HYDRA fell with S.H.I.E.L.D when the Avengers took them down, just continue the breathing exercises, and everything will be alright.” Except, it’s not going to be alright, though doing the breathing exercises keeps my breathing under control, I’m still being tormented by my nightmares. I sighed and got out of bed, maybe a shower will help me clear my thoughts.

~Meanwhile, on a plane to America~

“What’s the story about the name Zemo was talking about when we were on our way to Madripoor?” Sam asked as Bucky thinks back to the conversation.

“To beat Karli, we need a lot more allies, I suggest we start by enlisting the help of Y/N L/N,” Zemo said as Sam looked confused & Bucky’s facial expression tweaked 

“Who-” Sam started to say until Bucky interrupts him, “Don’t you ever mention that name again.”

“I’m sorry, so let’s talk about the plan,” Zemo responds as Bucky went back in his seat.

Bucky sighed and said, “Her name is one of the people I have to make amends with, she was one of HYDRA’s experiments.”

“Hold up, I thought Zemo got rid of all the super soldiers, why did he spare her?” Sam responded as he and Bucky finally exit the plane

“He spared her life because he had a feeling that she could be free from the controls of HYDRA and so that she could try to live a normal life, like me,” Bucky said as Sam looked at him confused and asked, “How do you know that?”

“Before The Dora Milaje took him to The Raft, he knew she was on my list when he went to cross his name off. Zemo didn’t give me a definite answer why he told me, he just felt like it,” Bucky responded as Sam nodded an okay

“You think she can help us?” Sam asked as Bucky nodded his head and then said, “But it’s not going to be easy to convince her to join the cause.”

“Why? Did you do something to her that caused her to be on your list?” Sam asked 

Bucky sighed and said, “You don’t even want to know.” as Sam stayed silent, a sign that he understands and doesn’t want to push it

“I’m going to visit Isaiah before heading home to Sarah and the boys, want to tag along?” Sam asked as Bucky shook his head

“No, I’m going make amends with someone I should’ve made them with a long time ago,” Bucky responded as he only has one mission on his mind.

~Back in New York, a day later~

“You’re okay, you’re okay,” I kept whispering to myself, repeating the mantra

The shower did help me clear my thoughts, but throughout the day, I couldn’t shake the dread & despair the nightmares and terrors brought me. I know it wasn’t my fault for all those deaths, I was a weapon that HYDRA created and used, but HYDRA doesn’t exist anymore so I’m not a weapon. I don’t know why Helmut Zemo spared my life that day he confronted me, I have no place in this world nor would be of any use to make a difference.

“Why am I still alive? I’m nothing and nobody even cares about me nor care I still exist.” I whispered to myself as I rest my head on my knees

Then I heard a knock on my apartment door and stayed silent to see if I can recognize if one of my neighbors is behind the door. I got up from the floor and composed myself together before I go up to the door to check through the peephole and I suddenly froze when I saw who was on the other side, James Barnes aka The Winter Soldier, HYDRA’s former powerful weapon. A lot has changed and its been a long time since I came face to face with him.

“Y/N, I know you’re behind the door. Can you let me in so we can talk?” James whispered so I can only hear him

“You know he’s changed too, he isn’t The Winter Solider anymore, let him in,��� I could hear my conscience telling me

I then started to unlock the door and opened it to him standing there, with a concerned face.

“What are you doing here?” I asked as James walked into my apartment

“Your name’s on my list,” James responded as I looked at him in confusion

“What list? Your list of people to kill or torture?” I asked as James hands me a notebook with his writing that shows my name under the title, “Amends”

“I’m no longer the Winter Soldier. I’m James “Bucky” Barnes and you’re part of my efforts to make amends,” James said

I was about to ask something, but then James interrupts me by responding, “I heard you.”

I started to develop a confused look on my face and then realized, with his enhanced hearing, he heard what I said minutes before he knocked on the door. I looked away from him and mutter, “Of course you did.”

“How long have they been happening?” James asked as I said in response, “Since before & returning from the Blip. Glad to see you’re looking well, therapy going good?” adding a little irritation at the end since therapy hasn’t been working for me

James sighed and then responds, “I’ve been having them too so, you’re not alone.” 

“I thought therapy was suppose to help with that,” I said with a tone of shock in my voice that maybe he hasn’t changed much

“It’s helping, but not as much as it needs to.” James replied 

 James sighed and then said, “I’m sorry for what happened in the past, all the pain & torture I caused you as the Winter Soldier. I know I can’t take it back, but if you’ll allow me, I want to make it up to you. I need your help.”

I contemplated accepting his apology to then say, “Okay. What do you need help with?”

“Are you aware of the Flag Smashers?” James asked as I nodded my head in response “Well, their leader, Karli decided to lay low after what Walker did to one of her followers. We need to be prepared for her next move when it happens, but Sam & I can’t do all this by ourselves, so will you help us when the time comes?”

“Why me? You heard what I said, I’m nothing, Zemo should’ve ended me when he had the chance,” I responded as James looked away

“You are not nothing, you are a survivor and a fighter. Zemo spared your life because he believed you would make a difference in this world and protect it when the time comes. I know that you are strong enough to stand your ground and I believe in you,” James said as I stood there, stunned not knowing that his words would make that much of an impact on me.

“Okay,” I responded as James looked back at me, “I’ll help you and Sam take down the Flag Smashers, whatever it takes.”

I could see James thinking about something so I asked, “James, what are you thinking about?”

“How would you feel about taking a trip down to Delacroix, Louisiana? You get a break from the city and you get to meet Sam so you can start to build your trust in him,” James responded 

“Think that would do me good since I haven’t gotten much sleep, also sorry for getting irritated with you,” I said as James laughs and smiles at me

“It’s fine, doll, also call me Bucky,” Bucky responded as he starts to back up and turn around to leave my apartment with me walking behind him

“Wow, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him smile or laugh like that before,” I thought to myself as I start to smile at the ground, “It’s definitely having an effect on me.”

As we’re on our way to Louisiana, he caught me up on what happened overseas, including the incident with John Walker.

“So wait, Walker wouldn’t give up the shield and felt no remorse for what he did to Steve’s legacy? What an asshole,” I said as Bucky chuckles in agreement.

“Yeah, Sam and I took the shield back, which left Walker with a broken arm,” Bucky responds as he looks at his vibranium arm that’s resting against mine.

“Hey, remember, you’re free from HYDRA, you don’t have the arm they provided you, and you learned to resist the trigger words,” I reminded him as he nods his head

“I’m sorry if this brings up the nightmares, but are they about your victims or is it just your subconscious making you feel what you do?” Bucky asked as I sighed

“They’re  just about me remembering what I’d done and how much control HYDRA had over me, it’s just hard to shake off the feeling of dread & despair after experiencing them,” I responded as I felt Bucky move his hand into mine and squeezing it in reassurance

“It’ll be okay, maybe the change of scenery will help the both of us,” Bucky whispered 

After we arrived two days before, we went to the docks where we saw everyone helping out Sam and his family with the boat. Bucky and I walked over to the boat when we see Sam talking to two locals when Bucky decided to help them get an equipment out of the trunk.

“Thanks Buck, this her?” Sam asked as Bucky nodded, “So will you help us?”

“Yes, I will help you with the Flag Smasher, need help with the boat?” I responded as Sam said, “Hope you don’t mind”

“No, we don’t mind. Where do you want us?” Bucky asked as Sam pointed us to where he wanted us

As we were working, I notice out of the corner of my eye, a woman who looks to be Sam’s sister, walking along the dock with a clipboard.

“Hey, I’m Bucky,” I hear Bucky say as the woman stops in front of him

“Sarah, nice to meet you, and who are you?” Sarah responds to then turn her attention to me

“Y/N, nice to meet you too, also don’t mind Bucky, he’s a bit of a flirt,” I said teasingly as Sarah laughs and Bucky makes a face at me that says “Really?”

“What? You know I’m right because if I recall, in the 1940s before you went to war, you were one of Brooklyn’s biggest flirts, I read about it at the exhibit,” I responded towards Bucky’s way 

Bucky shook his head and smiled to the ground, thinking no one would notice, but Sam did.

After I finished up with what I was tasked to do, Sarah asked me to help her out with something so I got off the boat and followed her to where we needed to go, leaving Bucky and Sam sitting there. Sam walks over to the cooler and grabbed two Heineken to then hand one to Bucky.

“Alright, so what’s going on between you two?” Sam asked as Bucky sighed

“We’re just focusing on me making it up to her and completing my efforts to make amends with her,” Bucky responded as he took a sip

“Bucky, I’ve seen that look in your eyes, you’re in love with her, how long has that feeling been there?” Sam asked, unknowingly oblivious to the fact I returned from helping Sarah and was standing nearby.

“I remember seeing her at the facility after Steve broke the trance, the first thought that came to my mind was, “Who was this girl with the blank cold stare?” then they commanded her to do her task and I could see for a split second that her eyes showed emotions. A split second, I knew she still had the parts to her that made her human,” Bucky responded as he then said, “That’s when it happened.”

“So after HYDRA fell, you forgot about her or did that memory only existed in the Winter Soldier persona?” Sam said as Bucky got up to stand

“After Hydra fell and I started to gain my mind back, I always thought back to her, wondering where she was and what she was up to. One day, I decided I was going to see for myself, so I found her. When I saw her that first time since that day at the facility, Sam, I wanted to make my presence known to her, she looked so lost and knowing what me as the Winter Soldier did to her, not knowing if she even remembers it, I didn’t want to force myself to stand face to face with her because I didn’t know if she was ready then to talk to me or if it was going to jeopardize her healing from the torture and the horrors of HYDRA. So I left, though it pained me that she never would’ve known someone still cared about her, and I wish I could’ve helped her with her nightmares before now,” Bucky said as he runs his hands over his face

“Y-you really feel that way?” I finally spoke, making my presence known as Sam and Bucky looked towards my direction

“Okay, that’s my cue. I’ll let you guys talk and have your privacy,” Sam said as he got off the boat and left, leaving me and Bucky alone on the docks

“Yes, I do feel that way and I am so sorry that you’ve been feeling that way for a long time,” Bucky responded with tears welling up in his eyes as I go on the boat to stand in front of him

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” I said putting my hands on his face, feeling one of his hands wrap around my wrist, “I’m glad that you did what you felt was right for me no matter how bad you felt about doing it. You were willing to be patient until the day you felt I would be ready to face you again.”

“So you’re not mad at me?” Bucky asked as I leaned in closer to the point where our lips are close to touching

“James Bucky Barnes, despite all the torture and pain you put me through as the Winter Soldier, I still forgave you at my own pace which you allowed me to have. That makes you one of the amazing guys I have the pleasure of knowing,” I said as I finally kissed him, making the first move

Bucky kissed back and moved one of his hands to my hair and the other to settle on my waist as we kissed in the sunset. We pulled away and I looked up to see Bucky smiling down at me, then he reached to one of his back pockets to pull out his notebook and handed it to me.

“So shall we cross off your name off the list?” Bucky asked with a smirk plastered on his face

I smiled back and said, “Definitely” as I took the notebook & pen from him and crossed out my name.

“Feels good huh?” I asked him as he laughed

“It does, so should we start finding a hotel to crash at before our flight back home?” Bucky asked

Before I could even answer or make a suggestion, we hear Sam from behind us, “You guys can stay at our place if you want to.”

I was silently glad that Bucky took up on Sam’s offer because that night was the first night in years where I had a peaceful sleep and it was in the arms of someone I loved & trusted in the house of people we felt comfortable around.

[aquarii-writes]

History on repeat(Dream x f!reader)

Ngl this was inspired by a dnf piece on tik tok. While I don't ship it the art was beautiful and the song attached inspired me to write this. This also includes my headcanons for Dream/his parents and I'll elaborate on it in a different post if enough people ask lmao

Notes: I should mention to look at my 'DSMP headcanons' especially Dream's part because that's where I kinda explain that I don't believe that Dream himself is a dreamon but that his mask contains one. I also used Dream's real name as his fathers name. I don't really like using the dsmp members real names if it's not in their user but I had to think of a name

WARNINGS: none I can think of aside from death and stuff of similar manners

WC:1,005

Genre: Angstyy

Two people sat together along the shoreline of a river. The colors of the sunset danced on the water. Turning the already beautiful area ethereal. Warm summer air tickled the woman; her blonde hair jumped with the wind.

"You're so beautiful [REDACTED]" the man spoke. His amber eyes held a love for the woman beside him; his lovely wife. Her green cloak acted as a pillow for her.

"You're too kind my darling" a smile played on the woman's lips. Her mask discarded beside her. The painted smile similar to the one she held.

"I love you with all my heart" a smile danced on the mans face. His lovely wife sat up and hugged him. Falling back into the grass the happy couple basked in one another. Masks long forgotten beside them. "Stay with me forever [REDACTED]?"

"Of course my darling dream" the twos faces were close as the wife spoke. It felt as though time sat there frozen to preserve the lasting moment.

Smiling towards you Dream held out his arms to get you to come towards him. As you got near Dream pulled you on top of him. His arms circling around your waist.

~~~

"Dream~" your voice was loving. Dreams mask was off as he watched you jump in the stream water. The sun was setting over the horizon and the light gave an other worldly glow to you and the water.

Playing with the locks of hair that fell into your grasp, Dream watched you. A deep seeded longing in his eyes. Out here away from everything was when Dream was the most caring. His affections unrestricted when he wasn't in the eyes of his friends. When he could easily sneak away.

Though the future had many plans for the two of you, but here in this moment the future could wait.

"I would do anything for you (y/n)" Dream's amber eyes looked like the sun. Specks of gold shined like they were directly in the sun. Nodding to his statement you kissed the man before you. An adoring hum escaped him.

Pulling away you mumbled out a response. "I love you with all my heart~"

"Will you stay with me forever?" with a teasing smile Dream rubbed your sides: tickling you along the way.

"Of course my darling Dream" an unknown feeling of deja vu came over the two. Seems as though something similar happened in the past.

~~~

"My dream!!' [REDACTED] screamed for her husband. "Don't take him away! Please!," the woman covered her small sons ears. The child didn't know what was happening. huddling into his mother arms the woman kept screaming for her husband.

Huddled under her cloak the small boy held a hand over his mother stomach and whispered to it. The boys father struggled against the men who held him away from his family. "CLAY! LET HIM GO! He didn't mean it.." [REDACTED] dropped to the ground crying. Her son hugging his mother. "Oh my baby Dream"

Dream's mother held onto him for dear life. Tears fell from his eyes as he watched his father get taken to the gallows. As a final goodbye his father threw towards them.

Crawling away from his mother, Dream grabbed the mask; his fathers mask. The plastic was cracked in a few placed, and some of the paint was chipped, but it was probably the last thing he would ever have of his fathers.

"Please just let my husband go" [REDACTED]'s mask was similarly painted though the tears the spilt from under it spoke another story. "It was the Dreamons who did it.. not my Clay.. not my lovely dreamer.." her whimpers drew her son back over to her.

"Mommy what's happening to daddy?" Dream wouldn't get an answer from her. Just wails and whimpers about how cruel the world was.

~~~

"Dream what did you do..," Tommy and Tubbo huddled behind you. A fearful look settled in your eyes. Dream's mask was just that, a mask. Behind it he held no remorse for what he had done and what he said.

He did plan on killing Tubbo, but the look in your eyes made his thoughts stutter. Should he not kill Tubbo? When Dream said he doesn't care about anyone it planted a seed in your heart. Did he really not love you anymore?

Dream didn't answer you. All he did was stare at you through the mask. "Take off your damn mask and answer me Dream" when your voice jumped at him all Dream could do was stare. He didn't talk and he didn't react. "Why aren't you answering me?! Dream WHY did you do it?!"

"I didn't mean to-"

"Like hell you didn't mean to!" your tone was sharp. It made the boys behind you move back as you came forward to hold Dream's face. This felt too familiar. Why does it feel so familiar?

Knitted brows went unnoticed behind the mask. His annoyed expression hidden to the world; to you. His everything. Before he lost it he wanted to marry you. He even joked about you being his wife. His darling wife.

"Do you not care about me anymore? After everything that's happened between us?" a certain sadness pushed your pain to him. It was the same sorrow his mother screamed from the top of her lungs. That's why it felt so familiar.

A desolate look decorated your (e/c) eyes. The same eyes he would've fought wars so see happy. The very eyes he believed he would love forever.

"It's not my fault- sweetheart it's not my fault" his words became more rushed as Sam pulled Dream away. Dragging him to Pandora's Vault. All the way to his box.

The misery and heartache Dream saw on your face reminded him of his mother. The heartbreak he never wanted to see again.

~~~

{REDACTED] held a baby in her arms as she watched her son play on the hill with her friends son. The baby girl in her arms slept peacefully as she spoke to her friend beside her.

Puffy had been a good friend of [REDACTED] for a long time now. "Puffy you have to promise me something"

"Anything [REDACTED]" Puffy watched the baby in her friends arms. The poor thing had been born months after her fathers hanging. The family had to go into hiding.

"Please after tonight take my babies with you.... I don't think I can carry on much longer with out my Clay.." despair was the only way Puffy could describe her once vibrant friend.

The woman's once vibrant green eyes now only held melancholy. The satchel that sat beside her only contained a few things; one thing being Clay's mask.

"Dream my beloved!" [REDACTED] called out for her boy. The mask that once adorned her face constantly had been vacant since her husband died.

Running up to his momma Dream reached out to hold his baby sister. Passing baby Drista [REDACTED] kissed her sons head before pulling something from her satchel.

"Dream listen to me. The world is a cruel and it will hurt you-" holding out Clay's mask to her son said everything to the small boy. Giving baby Drista to Puffy, Dream took his fathers mask away from his mother. "Wear this.. it was your fathers..," a sadistic smile rested on his mothers face.

It scared him, but it was the first smile he saw from her since his father died.

"Okay mommy" Dream slipped on the mask his father once wore and winced. It felt like strings were licking his face. It felt wrong. This wasn't his mask to be keeping was it?

~~~

The prison vault was deafening. Nothing was a really annoying sound when all that surrounded you was lava and crying obsidian. Though he had one thing to look forward to.

You promised to see him today. His lovely wife. Well you weren't married. He fucked up that chance when he lost himself to the mask. The dreamons that whispered to him constantly.

Ever since he came in here the whispers stopped. Except for when they speak about you.

The pistoning sound of the bridge coming brought Dream from his head. A sadistic smile grew on him. Throwing off the mask the threads retreated back into the plastic.

"(y/n) my beloved!" a crazed look adorned Dream's face as he looked at you. His beloved wife. "I love you so much~"

"Dream.." with a heavy heart you held Dream's face. His eyes held a look of longing love.

"Dream love.. listen to me. The world is cruel.. and it's going to hurt," your voice cracked as you held Dream's hands. Worry filled him as Dream dragged you towards him.

Pushing back Dream dug around in the chest of his room. A ring sat gently between his fingers.

"Wear this... it'll protect you.." a hopeful look held on to Dream's face. All his love and adoration for you.

"I'm sorry Dream.. I love you so much but maybe it's better if we split ways.... I.. why do I trust you so much? Your hands are scarred with murder, but I trust them completely.." crumpling to the ground you sobbed. Conflictions and pain battering against you for weeks.

Dream held you. He had seen this all before. History was repeating. He witnessed this happen between his parents. The very thing he never wanted to happen to him did. He's losing the love of his life.

Why does history have to repeat?

[linkspooky]

A Mafia Member Who Doesn’t Kill

Bungou Stray Dogs chapter 88 has made it clear to me just how strong the Akutagawa and Odasaku parallels are. They are both orphans, raised to kill and taught their only value is the strength of their abilities that they use for killing, only to slowly unlearn that behavior over time. They are both characters who value life above everything else. I’m going to explore the connection more in depth, under the cut.

1. Origins

The temptation might be to parallel Oda to Atsushi, and Akutagawa to Dazai. Not only is Akutagawa Dazai’s first and direct disciple, and currently wearing his coat, but Atsushi has always been “the good one” of the pairing. The one obsessed with being good, and saving people in the way Oda was. Oda is also the closest thing Bungou Stray Dogs has to an example of living the life of “a good man” that all the main characters are currently striving for. However, I would say that it’s Akutagawa who parallels Oda’s life far more than Atsushi. 

Of course Akutagawa parallels Dazai’s life quite a lot as well.He was recruited by Dazai the same way Dazai was recruited by Mori,wears Dazai’s jacket as his most precious possession, but he shares so much in common with Oda too including his origin. 

In their youth they’re both referred to as killers who kill without showing any emotion. They start out completely empty and dead to all feelings inside, because neither of them have experienced anything to give them a reason to value life. 

Fukuzawa suddenly recalled a rumor he had heard about a young redheaded hit man who wielded two pistols, and killed his targets while never showing any emotions. - BSD LN 3

They both kill because they’re strong, and that’s all they’re seen as. Both boys, orphans with nothing else to live for have been gifted with incredibly strong abilities. They kill, they don’t relish in it, they don’t gain anything from it unlike men in positions of power like Mori Ougai because they are ultimately tools, but they kill nonetheless. 

“I’ve been working alone as an assassin for as long as I can remember,” he began. “I’ve never wanted friends or a boss... but seeing a martial artist like you compromise your principles to save one of your men... It makes me kinda jealous. He must be the happiest guy in the world to have you as a boss.” - BSD LN 3

They both start killing as a means of survival, because they are both orphans who have no one to care for them and look out for them. However, they also slowly over time begin to kill as a way to demonstrate their worth. Akutagawa was an orphan who lost the small amount of friends he was protecting, Oda had no organization he was working for, no connections their lives are utterly empty except for their strength so they come to understand killing as something that gives their life meaning and value. If only because there is nothing else for them. 

However, for both of them killing isn’t enough. It’s merely surviving not living. Which is why no matter how strong they become they both remain empty, and they both feel insufficient, and even jealous of others. Oda is jealous of Fuzukawa’s connection to his subordinate, Akutagawa is jealous of Atsushi who is valued and connected to everyone around him and treated better by Dazai. This jealousy is also a realization that they are missing something in themselves but they don’t know what. 

Most skilled hitmen looked down on others as if they were insects. Their eyes were cold and lacked compassion. But this boy’s were different. They weren’t cold or any temperature. They were just empty. Not only was there no compassion or kindness, there was no hate or passion to kill. His eyes were those of a person who had given up on hope and despair - the eyes of a person who had removed himself from emotional things. - BSD LN 3

Both Akutagawa and Oda start at a point where they are killing, not because they enjoy it, or they’re particularly sadistic, or think they are just or right. They kill because it’s the only thing they’re good at. They kill to demonstrate worth. 

This kid’s different from the old me. Perhaps he never felt any joy from killing others. He was probably only killing because he had nothing to do. - BSD LN3

This also plays into a fundamental misunderstanding that Atsushi has of Akutagawa. He basically views Akutagawa as a bully who kills people to flaunt his strength in front of others. 

He doesn’t realize that Akutagawa is strong yes, but that’s all he is. He clings to that strength, because he’s been given no other alternative. He hasn’t been given nearly the opportunities that Atsushi has. If there is a difference between Oda and Akutagawa, Akutagawa is noticably angrier, more resentful, but that’s because anger is the first emotion he ever definitely felt. 

I feel hatred.  I am no longer a dog. I have become a human being with feelings of my own. -’A Heartless Dog’

Akutagawa and Oda are both boys who lived considerably empty lives, that is until they meet somebody who shows them an alternative and changes their lives forever. Oda and Akutagawa meet someone and from then on they want to find meaning in their lives. 

2. An Assassin Who Doesn’t Kill

Akutagawa kills without hesitance, and yet I would say he’s the only character in the manga who values life as much as Oda does. This might seem like a paradox but both of their characters are built around this paradox. That’s why they become mafia members who do not kill. 

Akutagawa’s response to the old man in the latest chapter seems sassy, but Akutagawa’s never sassy, he’s overly serious and sincere about everything. He’s saying what he really thinks. All people are equally alive. Akutagawa is someone especially aware of the value of life, because in the past his life was treated as something so worthless. 

He was not afraid to die. He was thinking perhaps even hell would be a better place to live then here. JJust continuing to live in this state was suffering, after all. 

[...]

What’s the point of our lives? He had once asked travelers in their place this equestion. Why Must I go on living?

It’s because they have both lived through the absolute worst circumstances, that they value life more, and go on searching for these answers. Akutagawa equally treats life as worthless (kills people without hesitation) and also values life (tries to give people a reason to live, tries to justify his own life, tries to fight against the idea that someone from the slums lives a meaningless life). 

When Kyouka finds a reason to live even though he’s not the one that gave it to her, he’s genuinely happy for her. Because Akutagawa values life, and wants people to find a meaning in life even though he kills. 

Akutagawa is currently on the same path Oda is on. The lines in this scene are vague because they’re meant to apply to both Dazai and Akutagawa. He met a certain person, joined a certain organization, and the hope for death in his eyes vanished. 

Oda gave Dazai reason. Dazai gave Akutagawa reason. Oda was also given reason when he met Natsume. All three continue on with a life of empty killing until an outside force intervenes and teaches them there could be something more to life. 

They both come across someone who tells them that there is more to life than just killing. That they are capable of more than that, and they actually follow through and stop killing. Because, Akutagawa, and Oda deep down respect life. As cruel and heartless as they can be, Akutagawa is also one of the most heartfelt and respectful characters in the series when he opens up. 

Akutagawa and Oda are people who understand other people on a level deep down, because they’re genuinely interested in the lives of others. Akutagawa is the only person who thinks about Atushi in a deep way, in ways Atusshi doesn’t even really want to understand himself. Oda is the first person to treat Dazai like a person, behind the genius. They understand, even the ugly parts of people because they don’t really look away from the dark parts of the world, of life, because no one’s experienced life’s cruelty like they have. Oda sees Dazai for who he is, and tells him that helping people probably won’t make him feel good, and that he’ll never feel good, but he should help people anyway because he’s capable of doing good. 

Oda is the one who started the journey in an assassin trying to find meaning in life, but he didn’t finish it. In the end Oda’s character arc ends tragically, and his path is half finished. Because, Oda eventually chooses death. 

I think a lot of people don’t realize this character flaw of Oda, because he’s usually such a good example, but he chose to kill again, chose to become a martyr to Dazai because he genuinely gave up on living when it became too hard for him again. 

“Odasaku...” Dazai said softly. “Forgive me for the absurd wording, but - don’t go. Find something to rely on. Expect good things to happen from here on out. There’s gotta be something...” - BSD, Osamu Dazai and the Dark Era

Oda died because of tragic circumstances yes, but Oda also dies because he chose death. He chose the escape. He chose the easier path. There were still people that needed him even after he lost the orphans, people like Dazai, and Akutagawa who were orphans in need of help as well and Oda chose to let go of them. 

Oda gave up on his attempt to find meaning in life, because the best way to find meaning in life is simply by living it. 

‘People live to say themselves, it’s something they realize right before they die, eh?’ - BSD, Osasmu Dazai and the Dark Era

Oda chooses to die for the sake of someone else, rather than living for himself. While that’s a tragic choice it’s also a bad choice with consequences, because now there’s nobody around to help Dazai and Akutagawa who also appeared in light novel two and who both needed him to some extent. 

In that sense Akutagawa can be stronger than Oda. Their lives are parallels but they’re also exact opposites. Akutagawa starts out by losing every orphan he was trying to take care of. Oda finishes his life when he loses the orphans who he was trying to raise and protect. 

The choice they make in those moemnts is the opposite ones. Akutagawa tries to choose simply revenge at first the exact same way as Oda did, but when he meets Dazai he realizes there was something he wanted even more than revenge. 

The question resounded in Akutagawa’s heart, and a single answer floated to the surface. Something he qished for. His heart’s desire.  The lowest of the low. In a world that was the lowest of the low, it was a wih that could never possibly be granted.  Akuagawa had to force the words out of his dry, trembling throat. “I want to find a reason... a meaning to my life.” - SHORT STORY A HEARTLESS DOG

Akutagawa wants to live for himself, stronger than even Oda did. Whereas, Oda stops wanting everything. 

Dazai paused before continuing. “I would be able to find something - a reason to live.” 

I looked at him; he looked back at me. 

“I wanted to be a novelist.” I said. “I thought I wouldn’t deserve such a life if I killed someone during a mission. That’s why I never killed anyone. But that’s all in the past. There’s only one thing I want now.” - BSD VOLUME 2, Dazai Osamu and the Dark Era

Oda’s words to Dazai to conitnue to live are meaningful, but he’s also a hypocrite to those words. He tells Dazai to live on, when he made the choice to go off and die. While, Akutagawa as dirty, and arduous as his path is, is the one who keeps struggling to live no matter what like a stray dog starving in the streets.

Which is why Akutagawa is the one who is going to finish what Oda started so long ago, and be the true inheritor to his will. Utlimately, I predict, that’s the path his character development and arc are going to take him. 

[kadeu]

Accepted — Hyun Soomin

♣   Hyun Soomin looks like Kim Chungha (solo) ♣    She was December 17, 1918; making her 106 but she appears 25 years old ♣   This Kumiho is Pansexual, Heart Defector, and a Three of Clubs ♣   She is an attendant at the Dragonfire Hotsprings and an errand girl

BIOGRAPHY

Bora was born to a single mother, a three of hearts serf full of dread and regret. It wasn’t always like that, though.

Her mother was a thousand years old kumiho who had been aging quicker than before during the past century, due to the stress and poor quality of life she led after losing all her money and, with that, her previous nine of hearts rank. Being a successful drug merchant wasn’t exactly the safest profession, with fierce and ruthless competition to go against it didn’t come as a surprise, even though it turned into a traumatic, life changing experience, to be framed and driven to bankruptcy. Never married to the father, he took that as a chance to abandon them, since his rank hadn’t been affected by the scandal. She lost everything except for the baby in her womb. All the way down to a three and with the little savings she had outside the Zuihuo Bank -not enough to change her rank- she was left with a huge debt, a large belly and almost no options for a new job. Homeless and having a hard time facing reality she wandered around directionless. She almost didn’t survive giving birth to Bora if it wasn’t for a spade healer that took pity on the kumiho trying to do it alone in an alley, her water breaking in the middle of the Joker moments before. Wondering what would be best for her and the baby, deserting hearts and trying to join spades seemed like her best bet, but she never made it to the spade territory. For some time, other lower rankers in the heart faction helped her and the newborn survive, she didn’t even feed in a long while because the stress caused migraines and slowly drained her power, but the incessant cries of her baby drove her insane until she reached a turning point. If she wanted to survive, if she wanted Bora to do so, she had to let her wild nature as a kumiho come out and be as ruthless as they were to her. The day Bora turned one year old she went into a feeding frenzy. She stole and hunted. She lied and deceived with her illusions. She hid. Every human heart and every human kidney she could get in her hands was split into halves, one for her and one for Bora. She wanted her daughter to come into her power as soon as possible while she gained enough strength and courage to initiate her next move. It came soon as a conclusion that it was either selling her body, taking part in morally dubious business or serving a rich family, and if she was going to do so, then the family she was indebted to was the most reasonable choice. At that moment she didn’t have a place to call home, nor any income. It was a blow to her already humiliated soul, but she would take it for her daughter. You would think an infant wouldn’t notice any of this, but Bora knew and felt, she absorbed all of it as she watched her mother work and take care of her at the same time to the point of exhaustion. Years later, when Bora was old enough, she began serving as well under the name Wisteria. Every serf working for the family received the name of a flower, and she decided to take the meaning of hers as a mantra; longevity and endurance defined foxes accurately. In a fresh bank account, she saved and saved, hoping to one day rise in the social scale and help clear her mother’s debt. It was harder than it seemed though, not earning much as a serf led her to contact people in the darkest alleys of the heart borough whenever she had a chance to go out. She ran errands for the house and for a drug dealing gang always going by Wisteria and not her birth name. A kumiho’s illusions and transformations came in handy for many things as it would appear. Her mother wasn’t happy with her decision, but Bora couldn’t stand watching how the serving life was weakening her day by day. It took decades to take a step upwards. Many times, she thought it would be impossible, but keeping an eye on her own -almost nonexistent- expenses and limiting her social life she became a four of hearts. Did anything at all feel different? No, but it actually gave her the opportunity to consider other means of living.

IN RECENT YEARS

Even though it sounded like a good idea, Bora never left the family she worked for, not even when she made it as far as five of hearts. She couldn’t leave her mother there, still being paid with just food and a bed to sleep on. There were so many things the young vulpe could do now, but she had grown used to the job, the faces and the fake sense of security that even her questionable side job gave her. And still, every once in a while, she could feel a tingling sensation all over her skin, her blood rushing through her veins and her trembling hands trying to reach for something invisible. She couldn’t help but wonder if this life was really meant for her.

Sooner or later things would change -her gut told her- but the way it happened marked her whole existence and dictated her future.

In the middle of the 2023 winter, January, her mother passed away. Depression and anxiety took her slowly over time, but too fast for a kumiho. She hadn’t turned into her fox form in a long while, even though Bora tried to make her. It was like she was giving up and her daughter couldn’t do anything but watch her fade away.

Was it unfair to feel betrayed by her mother and those she worked for? Bora didn’t know. All she knew was that everything hurt. Becoming orphaned and indebted by inheritance, which automatically demoted her to one of hearts, were never in her list of aspirations. Even the family she served for years started treating her differently, even though she was the same person. Her own existence started losing its meaning.-“Sorry for leaving so soon, Bora. I don’t know exactly when it’s going to happen, but I can feel that I won’t stay with you for much longer. Take care. You’re the only reason I haven’t left before. I love you.”

It was written on a letter she found among her mother’s belongings, next to a stack of older looking ones that after inspection revealed the strangely close relationship her mother maintained with a club, and not just a lowranker like her, not even a regular highranker like she used to be, he was a jack of clubs.

Making sure her tears didn’t smear the ink on the letters, she read through all of them, starting from the most distressed looking, the oldest. She learned that they met through work around the time her business saw enough success to branch out to other districts. Their relationship seemed merely professional at first glance, but Bora quickly caught up with the little affectionate terms and endearments they exchanged more and more frequently. It was also very clear that her mother was already involved with Bora’s father, but it didn’t seem to affect their mutual flirtation. She also learned that he was a kumiho as well as they casually talked about feeding, transformation and everything that was quintessentially a fox spirit’s concern.

Bora wondered if they got to meet in person and how often. If their longing for each other ever saw compensation. Hyperfixating on the letters for a whole month kept her from drowning in the despair she felt every time the world reminded her of the current situation and when she finished the last one, already more than ten years old, an epiphany took place.

Maybe this mysterious, at least in her eyes, jack of clubs was her ticket to a new life. All she had to do was leave everything behind, unpaid debt included, and flee towards the club district. They wouldn’t send anyone after her, right? They didn’t care for her mother until she offered herself in exchange for a roof.

Meeting him wasn’t as easy as she initially thought, though, the club borough was recovering for the recent civil war after all, everyone was extra vigilant. It turned out to be hard enough just to find his whereabouts, not to mention he was surrounded by heavy security, a necessity for a drug and gem trader, plus there was no apparent or justified reason for him to direct his attention to a one of hearts kumiho that had nothing but the bag she carried on her back. Unfortunately for him, Bora wasn’t going to give up as she couldn’t turn back. There was nothing but emotional pain waiting for her back in hearts. Yes, in clubs she would have to endure the physical kind, but her determination wasn’t running low.

It was during the third of her futile, middle of the street at night, ambushes that she mentioned her mother for the first time since she died, in a cry for help as his bodyguards slammed her to the ground. That was enough to discreetly take her back to his place and hear her out.

It was then when Bora learned his name, which the letters didn’t mention for privacy matters. Kwon Iseul sounded as serious as he was, at least from what Bora could grasp during the first conversation they had. He agreed to help her, but only under a long list of conditions that included a fake name and limiting most of her activities to the night.

From that moment on she would be known as Hyun Soomin.

Iseul covered her tracks so her debtors back at hearts couldn’t easily find her, a bit of personal rivalry getting in the mix, he also found her a place to stay and immediately commenced the mentoring and training she desperately needed. As kumihos, feeding in clubs wasn’t as easy as it was before, they no longer turned a blind eye much to Bora’s disappointment, but there were still ways that he taught her. Regarding fights, she had no experience, she only knew how to use her powers at a basic level. There was so much to do. A few days later, already in the third month of the year, she was officially a one of clubs under his wing.

Little by little she proved her worth as a warrior, from using illusions to transforming into a beautiful black fox, she used every advantage she had to very slowly raise her rank. Always letting some time pass between battles as the last thing in her interest was to call attention upon herself.

Nowadays she is a three of clubs.

She got a job at the hot springs as part of her façade and to make some money of her own, but until the Dragonfire reopens she just keeps running errands -in the dark and away from the heart district- for Iseul.

PERSONALITY

In the eyes of strangers, Bora is a quiet, observant, maybe even a judgmental person. She usually speaks in a low voice that holds her real personality back, unless provoked. Indeed, this is far from her true self, it’s just a reflection of who she used and fakes to be. Slowly, she is developing a daring and bold attitude that sometimes comes out at unexpected times. She’s simply getting to know herself better now that she doesn’t have to obey anyone. She responds to her sponsor, but she isn’t serving him. Plus, the fights are basically forcing her to be more assertive, she knows that presence and psychological dominance can play a big part when you’re physically smaller than the majority of your opponents. It’s not like she was a submissive small fry before, never acted like one, but it is now she’s finally starting to match her potential.

Smart, cunning, analytical, untrusting, individualistic, dominant, fearless. She is driven by nothing else than proving her own worth to herself, she has found out that she thrives in violence and that she is pretty good at beating people up. Her fighting style is full of tricks and backstabbing.  Sometimes she shows another side of herself, more relaxed, flirtier and charmingly mischievous, a side she’s coming to after meeting new people, mostly those working for Iseul.

Her vulnerable side comes out at the memory of her mother and her mental health, especially during the last few months before dying. She doesn’t like at all talking about her or her past. This also leads to paranoia, wondering if one day someone will manage to take her back to the heart district, her debt still unpaid.

On another note, she rarely shows her fangs, tail, fluffy ears or anything that indicates her nature, which isn’t that common in the club borough and would give her out. Although, when she’s around people she trusts, mainly Iseul, she likes to display her foxy attributes.

She doesn’t discriminate based on ranks, knowing perfectly well what is like to be on the bottom, but she can be very judgmental towards highrankers if they show that very same kind of demeanor.

She has heard of the resistance many times, but she doesn’t care about it unless they mess with her lifestyle. It’s not like she disagrees with everything they stand for, but she obviously can’t accept their policies regarding vulpes’ feeding. Yes, humans are living beings, but she needs it to stay healthy and strong.

Congratulations Kisu your app has been accepted and we’re excited to have your muse on the dash with us.

PLEASE FOLLOW AND WELCOME @cunningtype TO KADEU!

[i-will-physically-fight-you]

Monsters in the Closet

Title: Monsters in the Closet

Summary: “You’re so much nicer when you’re bigger.” 

 Roman knows he can’t change the past. He can’t change the way he treated Virgil horribly, driving him to feel the only way he could be accepted was to be the villain of the story. But he can sit there and feel guilty knowing he is not worthy of any of the trust this young Virgil has placed in him. 

(Part of the Tiny Virgil verse, takes place after An Itsy Bitsy Nightmare)

Word-Count: 2.7k

Pairing: Brotherly Prinixety

Warnings: Guilt, Panic/Anxiety, Treating Someone Wrongfully in the Past, Deaging, Hurt/Comfort

This part of a very late birthday present for @theeternalspace! I’m so sorry this took so long, please forgive me and I hope you enjoy! :)

-

Roman lets out a sigh and opens his eyes. Virgil is still snuggled close to his chest, asleep again after waking up what appeared to be a horrible nightmare. Roman can’t find himself to fall back asleep. His mind refuses to settle, refuses to let go of what Virgil said to him moments ago. 

“You’re so much nicer when you’re bigger.”

The words rumble in Roman’s mind like that of a great and fearsome thunderstorm. How could it not? All the more confirmation that regardless of the unfounded trust young Virgil placed in him, he’d still expected to inevitably be treated terribly.

And that? The guilt of that stings deeper than any sting of the blade or a bandersnatch’s ferocious bite.

It also makes him wonder what exactly the Ankle-Terror thought was going on. Kids aren’t stupid. Naïve, yes, but that’s different from being stupid. They’re creative and innovative in ways adults couldn’t dream to be. Plus, they tended to love engaging in-depth conversations about Disney. 

Sometimes, Roman misses the days when Thomas was a kid. Back when they were free to run around in the backyard and reimagine the swings as a spaceship or the underneath of the trampoline as the lair of an evil sorcerer. Back when they weren’t bound by inane things such as time constraints and the logistics of translating an idea into a real-world possibility. 

He could get Thomas and the others roped in a fantastical make-believe for hours. Weeks even of stretching an incredible imaginary world to its limits. The only things that ever stood in their way was the outside forces of school, parents and bedtime.

Nowadays, the reminiscing with a tinge of regret. There always had to be villains to fight, you see. An evil mad scientist. A corrupt king. A greedy dragon. The list goes on and on. He never ever played the villain. He’d always cast himself and Thomas as the heroes. Logan and Patton were the supporting stars. Virgil and the rest? The villains through and through. 

Virgil at this age would be used to this treatment. Rather than in his rightful heroic role as Protector, Defender, Watcher of All Perceived Threats--he played roles such as a wicked sorcerer who cast fear and disgrace upon the entire kingdom with his heinous sorcery.

He took to the roles without much grumbling. Oftentimes, he didn’t perform to young Roman’s expectations. Roman would chastise his performances, critiquing every bit. He wasn’t ever scary or evil enough for a Side responsible for making Thomas scared of monsters under his bed.

Virgil would also veto actions such as climbing super high up a tree and using it as a crow’s nest for a pirate ship. Much to Roman’s dismay, the others would side with him. Logan because Thomas could break a bone if he should fall and Patton because their parents wouldn’t approve. Thus making Virgil a major downer at times in Roman’s eyes and all the more deserving of the villain title.

It wasn’t until Thomas was older, closer to middle school, that Virgil started lashing out. He refused to play along, slinking off to sulk in his room. His influence had also grown and suddenly it wasn’t just monsters under the bed anymore--the monsters were everywhere. Homework, Teachers, Friends, Family. Roman worked overtime to help Thomas escape to worlds unfettered by these fears.

Of course, back then, he presumed this was Virgil fully showing his true colors as an antagonist. Thomas himself believed it, wishing vehemently for Virgil to just disappear. It was Roman’s responsibility, nay his purpose, to make Thomas’s dreams and desires come true. He was the Fairy Godmother to Thomas’s Cinderella. So for years and years he’d pursued this dream, desperate to make Thomas happy, proud even.

Now, he knows better. He knows that Virgil is more than just Anxiety, just like Roman and the others are more than what their title implies. He is vigilant, he keeps Thomas safe from external threats. Sometimes he can be overzealous, but he means well. And shutting him out isn’t the answer. It never was. 

With all that in mind, he wonders if the Boy Terror thinks this is one of Roman’s elaborate make-believe games. Roman could easily picture a younger him coming up with a make-believe game involving himself and the others being adults. True, Thomas back then liked envisioning himself as a kid defeating the evil dragon like kids his age did in the media he watched. 

But all kids at some point wonder what it’d be like to be an adult. They imagined themselves in the most exciting professions that made a real impact on the world. Then they’d grow up and very few of them made it to such professions.

(Except Thomas of course. Roman is incredibly proud of him and his accomplishments as an Ex-Viner turned Youtuber. Yes, they are still far from achieving feats such as Hollywood or Broadway, but still! For a while Thomas had to settle for a real, sensible job such as a chemical engineer. While science interested him, it didn’t drive him the way that creative pursuits such as singing and acting had. Thomas is lucky to be able to have a platform to do what he loves. Roman tries reminding himself of this during incredibly rare moments of insecurity.)

Kid Fright must be ecstatic about this. For possibly the first time in his life Creativity is including him in a game without making him the villain. Adult Virgil doesn’t talk much about the past--the few times Roman has tried to breach the topic it’d been an instant shutdown. 

But Virgil has always cared for them, even before they’d all realized this. He must’ve taken any part Roman gave him out of a desperation to be with them and keep them safe. It sickens Roman just thinking about it. He doesn’t know how Virgil stayed strong for so long. Roman doesn’t know if he could’ve lasted a day in Virgil’s place.

He is probably also terrified and waiting for the other shoe to drop. Regardless of his age, Virgil always expects the worst out of any scenario. Even now that’s been a year since he’s been accepted among the core sides that make up Thomas. He can’t help it, it’s in his nature. Roman can’t blame him for it. One year isn’t enough to undo the damages that the other twenty-nine years caused.

One thing is for certain: if he does think this is one of Roman’s make-believe games, he must think Thomas is still a kid. And Roman’s not sure if he should let Virgil know any different. In fact, it might be best to keep Virgil distracted while the others work to find the solution to this strange vexing problem. Because he knows Virgil won’t take it well to finding his host all grown-up. He thinks that none of them would in his place.

So he’ll keep Fall Out Kid safe away in the mindscape and continue being the Prince he deserved. He’ll allow Virgil to be the hero and he’ll play all the other roles. Sidekick, damsel-in-distress, villain--if he must. It’s silly, but he’s almost buzzing with excitement at all the worlds they could explore from within the common area. Cowboys, Spaceship, Space Cowboys. The possibilities are endless!

A small hand tugs at his sleeve, tugging him away from his thoughts altogether. He looks down at the inquisitive eyes slightly shrouded by a mop of dirty blond hair.

“Yes, little prince?” He says, trying to blink away the prickling sensation in his eyes. 

He refuses to cry again in front of the Little Shop of Terror. He knows he will have to confront his bubbling guilt and sorrow at some point, but for now he must push it aside. He is used to this. Being a hero means sometimes remaining strong and not showing vulnerability to loved ones.

“M’hungry.” Virgil murmurs into his chest, little arms wrapped around Roman’s neck. It’s almost endearing with how much he resembles a baby possum clinging to their mother. Roman isn’t used to a Virgil so physically affectionate. 

Virgil is like a feral cat. You couldn’t hug or pat him on the shoulder without warning. You had to ask and very rarely did he accept, even if it came from Patton. No, the best way is to let him initiate it. Let him lean his head against your shoulder, or his leg overlapping your own during a movie night. 

You also don’t acknowledge it and by not acknowledging it, Virgil then inches his way more until it grows into a proper hug. Then he would withdraw and promptly act like nothing  happened. Like you were to forget the interaction ever occured in the first place.

Logan has a theory that it’s because Virgil is the Fight-or-Flight instincts and physical affection lowers his guard in a way he isn’t completely comfortable with. Roman now has a theory that it’s a lot more heartbreaking than that. 

“You’re hungry?” Roman asks, attempting to steer his mind out of Despairing Drive and into Present Place. 

 A small growling noise occurs and Jack Smallington ducks his head down, embarrassed.

Roman isn’t entirely surprised considering that it’s been about eight hours since they discovered approximately five-year-old Virgil in the place of grown-up Virgil. Who knows how long he’d been like that, alone in his room, before that. Virgil also rarely eats so the poor kid probably woke up hungry. 

Roman feels so stupid. If it’d been Patton or Logan watching him, the first thing they would’ve made sure is if he was hungry. Because kid or not, it isn’t in Virgil’s nature to be self-advocating. That type of stuff freaks him out. Yet another reason Roman is completely unqualified to watch over Virgil. 

“Okay,” Roman breaths in, smiling, “thanks for letting me know, big guy. To the kitchen at once!”

With that, he hoists Virgil up, settling him on top of his shoulders. There’s a squawk of surprise and Roman’s almost worried until it turns into a gleeful giggle. When Roman lets out a neigh, pretending he’s a horse, Virgil’s giggles grow louder.

“You’re not a horse,” Virgil says.

“Neigh I am!” Roman says, “I am your trusty steed and we’re embarking on a perilous-but-completely-safe journey to the kitchen!”

He treks towards the kitchen, clicking his tongue in an imitation of a horse clip-clopping along. 

“Faster,” Virgil urges, resting his hands on top of Roman’s head.

“Faster?” Roman asks, almost stopping in surprise. 

“Yeah!” Virgil insists, “We gotta get there as fast as possible before any monsters come and eat us!”

“Never fear,” Roman says, “For I shall get us there before any monster even thinks of gobbling us up!”

With that Roman quickens his pace, ensuring he had a firm hold onto Virgil to keep him falling off. 

 “Faster, faster, faster!” Virgil chants in an anxious yet excited tone, “I think I see one!”

“Oh?” Roman turns his head back, “Oh, I see him too! Neigh, we better hurry!”

There isn’t an actual monster there. No sharp fangs or numerous eyes glaring menacingly in their direction. He can’t tell if Virgil is making up a game or if he actually believes there is one there. Either way, Roman is Creativity. If there’s one thing he knows best, it’s how to combat imaginary foes. Such as reaching the threshold of the kitchen.

With one great bound, he makes it onto the black-and-white checkered tiles.

“Aha! Now no monsters can attack us while we feast in the dwelling of this noble kitchen!” Roman grins, setting Virgil atop the kitchen counter before jumping up to sit beside him.

Virgil beams up at him, face wide with utter delight and awe. Roman is left dumbfounded at this. Even as a kid, Virgil had been very closed-off with his emotions. So shy and distrustful of everyone and everything. But here he looks at Roman like he’s some great hero or something.

 ‘How,’ Roman wonders, ‘how can you look at me like this when I’m the obstinate villain of this story?’

“Princey,” Virgil swings his legs, “won’t Dad be upset if he finds us sitting on the counter?”

Roman blinks. At first he thinks Virgil is referring to Thomas’s father until he remembers Patton also goes by Dad. For the longest time, Pat had even been insistent that was his name. In the way that young children believe their parents’ real names really are Mom and Dad. 

“Well,” Roman says, offering a pinky, “I won’t tell if you won’t.”

“Okay.” Virgil hesitates before interlocking his tiny pinky with Roman’s.

“Excellent! Now what would you like to eat?”

“Ummmm, I--I don’t know.” Virgil bites his lips, eyes flickering around the kitchen. Roman’s heart squeezes at this. He should’ve known such an open-ended question would set his anxiety off. They’ve learned recently that it was better giving Virgil the option of clearly-defined choices rather than vague ones.

“Would you like grilled cheese or spaghetti?” He asks kindly instead. 

“Grilled cheese? With applesauce?” Virgil doesn’t meet his gaze, as if afraid Roman will condemn his choices.

Roman smiles, “Your wish is my command.” 

He could’ve just snapped the food into existence right then and there. A few years back, it would’ve been enough to suffice. But as much as the Sides influence Thomas, the same holds true the other way around. Thomas once saw a fanart of Patton cooking breakfast for the sides and the idea stuck.

 Now Roman could still summon fully prepared meals but they weren’t super filling. Roman didn’t mind too much; contrary to popular belief (Logan) cooking could be a very creative endeavor. As Thomas’s creativity he could make up steps to dishes and still have them turn out perfect in the end. He may or may not enjoy it simply because it frustrated Logan to no end. 

He hops off the kitchen counter, snapping a finger. Instantly cabinet doors magically open as the ingredients and the materials he needed floated out onto the countertop beside the stove. Okay, so he cheated a bit, but just because the others lacked a little imagination didn’t mean he couldn’t bend reality in a place where reality is inconsequential. 

Roman turns to Virgil, unable to hide his smile at Virgil’s gobsmacked expression.

“Here, you can help put butter on the bread,” He tells Virgil, handing him a butter knife.

Grilled cheese sandwiches are a quick and easy meal. Before too long, Roman hands the kid a plate with a plain grilled cheese cut in halves and a cup of prepackaged apple sauce. 

“Thank you,” Virgil squeaks out before digging in.

“Of course.” Roman says, resisting the urge to ruffle the Little Terror’s hair. Instead he takes a bite of his own grilled cheese. Admittedly, he went a bit overboard with his own grilled cheese sandwich; three different types of cheese with lettuce, tomato and pickles. He isn’t quite sure if he’s a fan of the pickles but ah well. So it goes when in the pursuit of creativity.

They eat on top of the kitchen counters with relative silence. Roman hums a bit between bites of grilled cheese. Halfway through, he notices Virgil sending him glances when he thinks Roman isn’t looking. The kid squirms a bit in place, his face twisting in apprehension. 

“Is there something troubling you, Little Prince?” Roman asks at last.

“Princey, where are the others? A--are they okay?!” 

Oh. Oh, of course. Roman’s heart aches knowing how much Virgil worries and cares for everyone, even at such a young age. He’s so quick to reassure him that he doesn’t even pause to think about the phrasing of his words.

“They’re perfectly fine, rest assured. Logan is shut away in his room reading like the insufferable nerd he is and Patton is simply checking up on our dear Thomas--”

“Thomas?” Virgil breathes in, eyes bright with alarm. His shoulders raise to his ears like hackles raising on a frightened cat.

It is at this moment Roman knew that he messed up.

“Virgil, wait--” Roman pleads, attempting to place a placating hand on his shoulder. 

Roman is too late. His hand meets air as Virgil disappears in front of him with a loud crackle. All that’s left is a plate of half-eaten grilled cheese clattering to the countertops and a terror that shakes the entirety of the mindscape. 

[beewolfwrites]

And When I am Formulated, Sprawling on a Pin - Chapter Eighteen: Do Not Go Gentle

Hello again! Welcome to Chapter 18 of this Chishiya x OC/Reader fic. So many of you loved the ending of the last chapter, I hope you like this one too. 

There are certainly some... revelations coming to light. 

You can find the full fanfic and this chapter here on AO3 too. Enjoy <3

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

The rooftop was usually quiet at this time, but not today. The ruckus below could be heard for miles, cheers and laughter stretching across Tokyo like sunlight. But even the sunlight left shadows in crevices and alleys.

Legs dangling off the roof, I watched on as Hatter, flanked by Aguni and several militants, got into a car. He waved and blew kisses at the swathes of Beach residents. It was one big show, nothing but superficiality as the Beach’s king headed off into battle. The sun bounced off his ring as he kissed a woman’s hand, the blinding light only serving to darken his sunglasses.

‘Not joining the party?’

I didn’t bother turning at the familiar voice. There was a rustle of fabric as he sat down beside me, leaving enough space between us that it wasn’t uncomfortable.

‘I’m not a party person.’

As the car pulled away from the hotel, my eyes drifted to Niragi who was standing by the hotel door. He looked visibly irritated, most likely because of the fire that had spontaneously started in his room the night before. Apparently, he’d gone on a rampage, throwing accusations and pinpointing certain names. In an attempt to calm him down, An had used her forensic background to sweep the room, only to find no fingerprints, hairs, or traces. Niragi had been seething ever since.

‘I’m guessing you heard about what happened,’ I tried to hide a smile. ‘Somebody tampered with the plugs of his bedside lamps while he was in the game last night. Whoever it was cut through both the earth wires and messed with the live wires.’

Like many of the other lamps in the hotel, they had metal casings. And because the bedside tables were made of wood, it didn’t take much for the metal to overheat.

Chishiya let out a content sigh. ‘There were no fingerprints. It could have been faulty wiring.’

‘That’s true,’ I said, thinking back to the box of disposable latex gloves in Chishiya’s room. ‘Though it’s one hell of a coincidence that it happened to both the bedside lamps.’

‘But not impossible.’

‘No,’ I said softly. ‘It’s not impossible.’

He reached into his pocket and held out the taser. ‘It wasn’t too bad. Just a case of rewiring it.’  

Holding it in my lap, I felt instantly safer. ‘Thank you.’

We fell into companionable silence, me watching as Hatter drove off into the desolate Tokyo streets, and Chishiya mulling over whatever crazy calculations were running through his mind. Eventually, when the car disappeared into the dust, the Beach residents retreated back to the patio, continuing as usual as they waited for the return of their king.

‘Hatter’s going to die in this game, isn’t he?’  

‘Of course,’ Chishiya said. ‘That’s why I’ve invited Arisu up here with us.’

‘You’re going to include them in the plan?’

A faint smile ghosted his features. ‘Did you think you were special because I included you?’

‘Of course not. That’s ridiculous.’ It was ridiculous, and yet something unpleasant twinged in my chest at the thought that it wasn’t just me, him and Kuina. It begged the question, if he wanted help from Arisu and Usagi, why did he bother with me? ‘Chishiya, I know I’ve asked you this before, but why did you bring me here?’

‘If you’ve asked me before then you’ll already know the answer.’

The answer was that I was useful to the Beach, but something told me it wasn’t the true answer. There was something I was missing here, if only I could figure out what it was.

‘No,’ I said. ‘Why did you really bring me here?’

He didn’t reply, but I could see him considering the question, thinking of all the different avenues he could take to answer it. Lucky for him, he never had to, as the rooftop door swung open and Kuina stepped out, followed by Arisu. He looked pained, as though he’d seen a ghost, but when he saw me, his expression filled with recognition.

‘I remember you from the Tag game,’ he said.

I gave him a smile. ‘も覚えています.’ I remember you too.

He relaxed slightly at seeing a familiar face, but when he turned back to Chishiya, there was still some mistrust there. ‘You and Kuina wanted me to come up here. What’s going on?’

Chishiya and I got to our feet, and I was reminded a little of the time when I had been invited up here too. Only now, my bruises had healed, and Chishiya and I were on good terms again.

‘I’d like to ask you one thing,’ Chishiya said, his tone calm and calculating as always. ‘How do you plan to live in a world that’s so full of despair?’

Arisu seemed visibly surprised by the question. But I wasn’t. I knew Chishiya enough to see that this was a test. What the answer was didn’t really matter. It was all just a way for him to gauge Arisu’s personality and analyse which parts of his nature could come in use. Seeing this test being used on someone else, I wondered how often Chishiya had deployed the same tactics on me.

‘I’ve come this far,’ Arisu said, ‘and I just want to know who’s behind all of this, who I should get revenge on. And if there’s only one person who can leave, I want to make sure it’s Usagi.’

Usagi must be the name of the climber girl.

Chishiya smiled. ‘It’s a good answer.’

‘でも、悪い溶液だ,’ I said. But it’s not a good solution.

Kuina strolled along the edge of the rooftop. ‘In order to leave, you and Usagi would have to win game after game and become number one. It’s impossible.’

Arisu’s face fell, although he must’ve known this deep down already. It was impossible to win every game, and despite how much we talked about surviving, Kuina, Chishiya and I would probably die before then. The odds were against us.

‘It has nothing to do with you guys anyway,’ Arisu said, defensively.

‘We think you have potential,’ Chishiya replied, looking out in the direction where Hatter’s car had disappeared. ‘That’s why we came to find you earlier.’

‘Potential….’ Arisu’s confusion was illustrated all over his face.  

‘What if I said there’s a way to change the status quo all at once?’ Chishiya casually suggested, and Arisu’s eyes widened.

I drifted in and out of understanding as Chishiya explained how the tensions between the militant sect and the idealist sect were growing stronger, and that Hatter would probably not return home from his game today. Arisu’s nervous reaction was too open, too trusting.

He wears his heart on his sleeve. That’s why Chishiya picked him.

‘What are you planning?’ He glanced between the three of us.

Chishiya’s smile was terrifying. ‘I plan to steal all the playing cards,’ he said. ‘We’re leaving the Beach.’

And just like that, Arisu was hooked. Trapped in the net of manipulation so carefully laid out for him.

Chishiya was a trickster. Now that I could his tricks laid bare in the sunlight, it was more obvious than ever before. In my head, I ran through all the conversations I’d had with him, but there was nothing that stood out as obvious lies or half-truths.

And he’s always helped me. He screwed with Niragi’s lamps and started that fire. He didn’t have to do that… it can’t have been for nothing.

As if sensing the conflict within me, Chishiya’s eyes locked onto mine from across the roof. They were guarded and distant, with just a hint of something warmer, and a little voice in my head told me it wasn’t real, it couldn’t have been real. Yet it didn’t stop my heart from shuddering, or my face from glowing under the sunlight.

And all at once, I realised I was just as stuck as Arisu.

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

Later that day, Hatter failed to return from his game.

It was information kept within the executives out of fear that the Beach’s residents would panic. Naturally, Chishiya had told Kuina, Arisu, Usagi and I, not that it was a surprise to any of us. Apparently, gunshots had been heard in the area, but the only witnesses around were militants, and each and every one of them swore that Hatter died in his game.

There was no time to waste, and the situation had formed a perfect opportunity. Chishiya had invited us to his room to go over the the plan, but now that it was actually happening, it felt a lot more nerve-wracking.

Arisu and Usagi were sitting in their chairs, sharing uneasy glances as they wondered whether to go ahead with this. From my seat on the couch, I listened carefully while Chishiya brushed through the details in Japanese. He was speaking slower than usual, probably so I could understand as much as possible, but there were still some things I would have to ask about later.

He began passing around walkie-talkies, sliding them across the coffee table towards Arisu and Usagi. As he placed the device in my palm, his fingers brushed mine.

‘The playing cards,’ he said. ‘they’re kept in a safe hidden somewhere in the royal suite. Nobody knows the passcode except the current number-one. But because there’s always chance that the number-one could die in a game, the code is also kept in a black envelope. The black envelope is only opened when there’s a new number-one.’ He sighed. ‘There’ll be a meeting tomorrow, and Aguni will open it in front of all the executives.’

The system itself made sense, but how could Chishiya find out the passcode without being able to see inside an opaque black envelope?

He’s cunning, but cunning doesn’t give you x-ray vision.

‘It’s only read by number-one, right?’ I asked, wondering if I’d missed something along the way in my attempt at translating.

‘That’s right. But as for the safe itself, Arisu will be the one to infiltrate the royal suite.’

Arisu frowned. ‘But what about the passcode?’

‘I already have an idea about that,’ Chishiya said dismissively. ‘I’ll tell you when you’re in front of the safe.’

‘You really are cautious,’ Arisu replied with a grin. He nodded. ‘Got it!’

Chishiya looked at Kuina and Usagi. When he turned to me, I dropped my eyes to the coffee table, feeling embarrassed at how I was acting. It was as if I were a schoolgirl again. ‘You three will be on the lookout,’ he said.  

Usagi flinched, eyeing the walkie talkie in her palm. ‘It’s too dangerous,’ she whispered. ‘If we’re found out, we’ll be killed.’  

Her eyes were hazy with worry, and it was obvious she cared deeply about Arisu. They must’ve stuck together after the Tag game, becoming not just allies, but something more. It was clear as day from the way they looked at each other.

‘It’s fine, Usagi,’ Arisu tried to console her. ‘With Hatter dead, there’s no unity at the Beach. This is the only way.’

I wanted to believe him, I truly did. But as I bore witness to Chishiya’s growing influence on Arisu, the more doubts I had. Looking at him now, beyond his calm surface, there was something calculating there. An empty darkness. And I was right in the middle of it.

Just what are you really planning?

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

The next day, Chishiya disappeared to attend the opening of the black envelope. It meant the rest of us had a few hours to kill before the executives and militants would hold a speech in the lobby to declare Aguni as the Beach’s new king.

I was sitting alone in my room, the walkie talkie on the desk beside me as I ran through the plan over and over. There was so much that could go wrong.  

So far, I had intentionally stayed hidden. With Hatter had gone, there was nothing stopping Niragi from killing me and having done with it, and if I wanted to make it out of this place, it was best to keep my head down and remain out of sight. Luckily, my visa still had four days left, so I didn’t have to worry about running into Niragi at a game or in the lobby again.

If everything goes well, I’ll be seeing the last of him.

There was a knock at the door and Kuina called out from the other side.

‘Door’s open!’

Kuina entered, looking cheery and troubled all at once. ‘When is it not?’ she said, taking a seat on my bed as she played with her hair.

I folded my arms against the back of the chair as I took in her dismal energy. ‘You look drained. Something happen?’

She stared at the carpet. ‘Nope, but something will. I can sense it.’

She must be feeling it too.

‘Do you think the plan’s going to fail?’ I asked.

She laughed at first, then frowned. ‘I don’t know. It might, it might not. I just hate waiting like this. It feels a bit like waiting to die.’

The sun was beginning to set, and our time at the Beach was drawing to a close. Either we’d make it out and escape tonight, or we’d be deemed traitors and made an example of. It all depended on whether Chishiya could figure out the passcode, and whether Arisu could locate the safe in the first place. I bit my lip at the thought, tasting metal on my tongue.

I hate putting my life in someone else’s hands.

‘Kuina,’ I said, feeling a little awkward. ‘Do you trust Chishiya?’

She seemed to struggle with the question as she took her time to answer. ‘Not exactly. I trust him to a degree, and we’ve kind of become friends, you know. But if it really came down to it, he would put himself over me, if it means he’s able to survive. He might feel bad about it afterwards – or not, who knows? But that’s what he’d do.’ She looked at me, perplexed. ‘Why?’

My mind skipped through every time I had caught myself caring about him… the comfort I felt around him during the Hunting Season game… the fear of seeing him injured and the guilt of knowing he was in pain… the hurt every time he upset me… and the warmth of safety, knowing he was looking out for me in his own way. Even if he was downright cruel, he always gave me a reason to keep going.

‘I don’t either.’ I swallowed, trying to force myself to admit the truth. ‘But at the same time, I think I feel something… for him, I mean.’

Kuina took the quit-smoking aide out of her mouth. ‘I know.’

My head shot up.

What?

‘You know?’ I asked, surprised, confused and overwhelmed all at once. ‘How did you know before I did?’

She shrugged. ‘Because any idiot could see it, even Niragi. You’ve got some serious chemistry going on there.’ With a shake of her head, she said. ‘It’s a shame he’s such an asshole.’

I pushed my head in my hands, but it wasn’t enough to hide my embarrassment. I felt so exposed, like my mind and heart were put on display. If it was that obvious, it meant everyone would have been able to see it. Everyone.

‘Chishiya already knows, doesn’t he?’ It wasn’t even a question at this point.

She tilted her head from side to side, trying to make me feel better by pretending there might have been some room for error. ‘He probably does.’

‘There’s no ‘probably’,’ I groaned. ‘He definitely knows. Nothing gets past him.’

‘Can’t say I agree with your taste in men,’ she said, quietly, ‘but I guess it’s too late to interfere.’ Even though her tone was lighthearted, there was an edge there. ‘What are you going to do about it?’  

How do I even begin to answer that question?

I slumped down onto the back of the chair, tired and exasperated with the whole thing. It had always been my dream up until now, to fall in love, live freely and keep looking to the future. But not like this. It was the wrong place, the wrong time, and as much as I hated to admit it, the wrong kind of person.

‘Who knows?’ I groaned. ‘This isn’t exactly the best place to fall in love with someone. This was what I always wanted, but now that it’s happening, I have no idea what I’m supposed to do.’

I looked to Kuina for advice, hoping she’d anchor me down and tell me it was going to be fine. Instead, she was at a loss, unsure of what to suggest.

But then the walkie talkie on the desk hummed to life, and it no longer mattered.

‘They’re about to make the speech.’ Chishiya’s static voice buzzed through. ‘It’s time.’

[immaturityofthomasastruc]

(Accidental 150 Follower Special) IOTA's Top 10 Worst Episodes of Miraculous Ladybug (Part 1)

If you saw one of my earlier posts, an anon asked what my favorite and least favorite episodes of Miraculous Ladybug were. So, I decided to make a little list explaining the best and worst this show has to offer.

A few quick ground rules here. I'm not going to list any episodes I had previously talked about in some of my other posts. This includes “Kung Food”, “Animaestro”, “Syren”, “Reflekdoll”, “Chameleon”, and most of the episodes relating to Chloe's “damnation arc” that Astruc planned since he first created the character (“Despair Bear”, “Queen Wasp”, “Malediktator” and “Battle of the Miraculous”). Also, I'm not counting the specials, mainly because aren't listed as episodes, and because I don't want to talk about them.

Other than that, anything goes, so let's get things started with the worst list.

These are the Top 10 Worst Episodes of Miraculous Ladybug (in my personal opinion because your opinion is also valid)

#10: Stormy Weather 2

“Stormy Weather” was the very first episode of the show, and it really made a good impression on new viewers. So naturally, when it was announced that Stormy Weather would return, fans were excited. Then when the episode aired, Hawkmoth gave her even more powers, including the power to create a volcano big enough to potentially knock the planet out of orbit when it erupts. So Ladybug and Cat Noir have no choice but to stop the villain once again.

What does this plot lead to?

Yep, this episode is nothing more than a clip show. I understand that clip shows and bottle episodes are a necessary evil, but why would you set up something this awesome with a fan-favorite Akuma like Stormy Weather, and then not even bother to show it?

This episode is yet another attempt at showing that the show totally has character development. The whole reason Aurore is Akumatized into Stormy Weather again is because Chloe says that people can't change because Astruc (who was one of the four people writing this episode) is determined to make you hate this teenage girl more than the main villain of the show.

So of course, everyone spends most of the episode talking about how much they've changed, which is represented through clips of past episodes that do a horrible job at actually conveying any development.

According to Marinette, Adrien has “become a friend she can talk to about anything, except when it comes to her feelings for him”. Ah yes, you can tell they're friends by the fact that they barely hang out together, much less share a conversation because the writers are going to drag out the whole “Marinette stammering in front of Adrien” until they get tired of it. So basically, never.

All Alya and Nino talk about is how Ladybug helped them become a couple, and become superheroes, even though neither of those are actually related to character development. Though that is a fitting metaphor for the way both of their personalities have basically devolved to “the couple”.

Chloe talks about how nicer she's gotten, while footage of her doing awful things is played. I wonder who wrote that part in...

Even Ladybug and Cat Noir talk about how much they've grown and how stronger they've gotten, as opposed to focusing on STOPPING ANOTHER ICE AGE FROM HAPPENING. How can Hawkmoth even think this will get him the Miraculous? Yeah, sure I guess he can get them from the frozen corpses of our heroes, but what then? He still doomed humanity, and I don't think he can reverse the damage like Ladybug.

Towards the end, the clip show becomes slightly interesting, as Adrien mentions an unsigned card he got for Valentine's Day in “Dark Cupid”, and how similar the handwriting looks to Marinette's.

Does this lead to Adrien figuring out Marinette has feelings for him? Is the sky bright red? Both of these questions have the same answer.

Yeah, out of nowhere, Adrien just mentions Luka, who wasn't mentioned at all in this episode, and immediately thinks Marinette is in love with him. And that's how the episode ends.

I put this at the bottom of the list because I don't think it's completely fair to judge clip shows, but even some clip shows at least try to put in some effort and justify the clips, like what The Legend of Korra and some seasons of Power Rangers did. And the fact that the whole point of the episode is a poor excuse to claim that there's character development in the show only makes it even more infuriating.

Oh my God, this is only Number 10...

#9: Oblivio

While I already talked about “Cat Blanc”, this episode shares a similar theme as that episode: Giving viewers what they've wanted for three seasons, Marinette and Adrien finally learning each other's identity and starting a romantic relationship... only for the reset button to be once again slammed, making the entire episode pointless.

The only difference is that unlike in “Cat Blanc”, where there was an actual love confession that made sense, here, Marinette and Adrien find out the other's identity when they get their memories wiped by the Akuma of the week, Oblivio.

From then on, it's just fanservice. Instead of actually developing the relationship between Marinette and Adrien, the writers just decide to cram an entire episode worth of Adrienette content into a single episode just to tide fans over. Marinette and Adrien seriously fall in love despite only knowing each other for like, an hour at most. And the fact that the writers undo all the romantic progress of the episode makes it come across as pointless.

But the ending is what really cements this episode's spot on the list. As soon as Oblivio is defeated, Alya takes a picture of Ladybug and Cat Noir kissing without their consent and then rubs it in Ladybug's face.

Even though Ladybug doesn't know the circumstances (she has no memory of the events of the episode), this was still an invasion of her privacy, and she looks horrified by the picture that Alya is obviously going to post on her blog.

And of course, Cat Noir is more than happy to see it, ignoring how Ladybug feels and claims that they'd make a great couple. Because everyone knows good couples are formed by someone gaslighting the other into going out with them.

But wait, it gets better! In the next scene, we learn that Alya and Nino were akumatized into Oblivio... because they were caught in an embarrassing situation by their peers.

Alya: Remember when we visited Montparnasse Tower? Well, we went and hid to play Super Penguino, but Ms. Bustier caught us, and...

Nino: And you guys made fun of us for playing that game, saying it wasn't our age and all.

Alya: We were totally embarrassed at getting caught.

This was my thought process when I first heard Alya and Nino's explanation.

How can Alya claim to take a compromising picture of Ladybug, ignore how she feels, and not realize the similarity from when she and Nino were akumatized? This is what completely killed Alya for me in canon. This was the point where I couldn't care less if Marinette was friends with her or not. Sure, there are still fanfics, but those actually portray her with some kind of conscious. So to summarize, Fanon Alya is awesome, but I hope Canon Alya's 4G plan runs out.

This episode is just forgettable, but the ending made things worse. Apart from, I guess the action scenes and some funny jokes, this episode has no redeeming qualities. Like, literally the best thing to come from this episode was @miraculouscontent​‘s LadyBugOut AU, as it actually addressed the hypocrisy of Alya's character, among other problematic aspects of the show.

#8: Oni-Chan

Just a heads up, most of the episodes on this list are from Season 3. Just want to give you an idea of what to expect.

This episode is about Lila tricking Adrien into helping with her homework, when she is only doing it to get closer to Adrien. Marinette tries to spy on the two and stop Lila from hurting Adrien... even though she knows Adrien is aware that Lila is a liar, and is visibly uncomfortable around her.

And because the episode spends so much time on Marinette following Adrien and Lila, the buildup to Kagami getting akumatized is incredibly rushed. Seriously, she gets a single line of dialogue before she gets akumatized, and the motive is ridiculous too. Lila sends a picture of her forcing a kiss on Adrien, and Kagami immediately bursts into tears at the sight of it.

But wait, it gets better! When Kagami is akumatized into Oni-Chan (the writers know that's a term used for males in Japan, right?), she turns into a psycho hellbent on killing Lila because “Adrien doesn't deserve her”. Most of her dialogue is her saying how much she loves Adrien, making her come across as, for lack of a better word, a yandere.

This episode just destroys Kagami's character, making her as unlikable as Katie Killjoy in the process. If it wasn't for “Ikari Gozen” actually treating her like a human being (obviously Astruc's planned character development from the beginning), I'd completely hate her.

It also shows how much of an evil genius Lila is, as she has the brilliant idea to convince Oni-Chan to kill the only person capable of saving her from the Akuma's wrath. And this somehow gives Hawkmoth the idea to forge an alliance with Lila. It's also another reason why I believe in Darwinism.

This episode is low on the list because it does have a few redeeming qualities, like Lila facing consequences for lying, however brief they may be, and it has a great character moment with Adrien realizing on his own how terrible Lila really is, a far cry from what he was like in “Chameleon”.

Other than that, it's pretty bad, and still deserves a spot on this list.

#7: Antibug

HA! I said MOST of the episodes involving Chloe's “Damnation Arc” wouldn't be on this list, but not ALL OF THEM, so this one counts! Take that, convoluted rules I made up for some reason!

What was I talking about again? Oh right, “Antibug”. Oh crap, “Antibug”...

This is one of of several episodes in Miraculous Ladybug that really should have been a two-parter. It tries to be daring and includes two Akumas in one episode, but both of them are poorly executed.

An invisibly entity starts harassing Chloe, so Ladybug and Cat Noir start an investigation. It turns out to be Chloe's lackey Sabrina, who was akumatized after a falling out between the two. Well, I say “falling out” lightly, because what actually happened was that Chloe and Sabrina were cosplaying as Ladybug and Cat Noir, Chloe pretended to be the real deal while crashing an interview with Jagged Stone before Sabrina accidentally blew her cover, causing Chloe to be humiliated on TV and end her “friendship” with Sabrina.

Ladybug learns this from Chloe's butler, while Chloe never mentions the incident. So when Ladybug and Cat Noir engage the Akuma, Ladybug ignores Chloe's advice on where the corrupted object, naturally not trusting her judgment. And this is portrayed as a bad thing.

This episode is the start of a long-running trend in Miraculous Ladybug: Marinette needing to learn a lesson, while Adrien/Cat Noir is the one to help teach that lesson.

Chloe did nothing to help, only made things worse, and lied about why Sabrina got akumatized. It's kind of obvious why Ladybug wouldn't trust her word. The whole point of The Boy Who Cried Wolf wasn't to trust the liar after all.

But if that was all the episode did, it wouldn't be on the list, because now, the narrative wants to make the audience feel bad for Chloe before she gets akumatized into Antibug... who is just a lazy palette swap because new character models are expensive.

This part of the episode isn't nearly as bad as the first half, but like “Oni-Chan”, Chloe's akumatization is incredibly rushed, and we don't really get a chance to sympathize with her before she goes full Antibug.

Even Antibug herself isn't that interesting of a villain. The whole idea of an evil doppelganger is that they're a perfect match for the hero, but we only see Ladybug and Antibug fight for a few seconds, while Cat Noir does most of the fighting with her while Marinette's Kwami recharges. I like that Ladybug and Cat Noir show their teamwork to defeat Antibug, but I feel it would have been more interesting to see Ladybug and Antibug duke it out before Cat Noir helps turn the tide.

Again, this episode really needed to be a two-parter to better expand on the story presented here, because it had a really interesting premise. I'd personally read the version of “Antibug” in @justanotherpersonsuniverse​‘s “The Adventures of Panthera Noire” (an AU fanfic where shy girl Juleka gets the Cat Miraculous instead of Adrien). Not only does it have two separate chapters for Vanisher and Antibug, it also does a good job of setting Chloe on an actual redemption arc, unlike Astruc's “damnation arc”.

#6: The Puppeteer 2

As much as I've ragged on Adrien/Cat Noir in some of my other posts (and will continue to do so in this list), that doesn't mean I think Marinette has problems too, and this episode is a prime example.

Marinette and Adrien go to a wax statue museum with their friends (and Manon), but because of a poor choice of words by Nino, Adrien thinks that Marinette hates him. So he does something that everyone loves, practical jokes.

Adrien seriously thinks that pranking Marinette will improve her opinion of him. Even the prank is ridiculous, pretending to be a wax statue to make her laugh. And it leads to... Oh God... This is easily the contender for one of the worst moments in the entire show. Marinette goes up to the statue and... gets close to it. Yes, we, the audience know that this isn't a statue, but putting that aside, just look at what Marinette does to the “statue” (AUTHOR’S NOTE: I made a gif from the episode, but it wouldn’t go through, so I recommend you check out the episode and watch the statue scene for yourself if you don’t value your sanity). Even Adrien, as dense as he can be, is a little unsettled by what Marinette does.

If the scene was about Marinette talking about her feelings for Adrien, I'd be more lenient on it, but this? This is just uncomfortable to watch.

Even the dialogue makes Marinette sound incredibly creepy.

Marinette: Wow... it looks so... real. The wax is nearly as hot as skin. It even smells exactly like him...! Oh, beautiful statue of Adrien, your wax is so soft! Your yak hair is silky. Your eyes are so green. Oh, shall I be a statue, too! Everything would be so much easier. Why haven't we been molded together in the plaster of destiny? Marble to marble, wax lips against wax lips, entwined for eternity...

I think Gilbert Gottfried said it best.

This scene alone put this episode on the list, and the Akuma doesn't make it better. I really liked “The Puppeteer”, and I thought her ability to control past Akuma victims was incredibly fun to watch. And when she returns to take control of the wax statues of past Akumas they... don't use their powers (with the exception), and serve as cannon fodder for Ladybug and Cat Noir to plow through, making the return of the villain very underwhelming.

Even the end where Adrien tells Marinette that he is in love with someone and only sees her as a friend. This should devastate Marinette, but in the next scene, thanks to some fortune cookie nonsense from Tikki, she's still unsure about her relationship with Adrien, and that's how the episode ends. Seriously. Because just need to keep the status quo consistent, right? It's not like Marinette doubting her crush on Adrien and worrying that she's just wasted her time would have been interesting to see, right? Play that happy ending theme already!

Of all the episodes on this list, this is the one I was dreading talking about the most because of some of the moments here. And yet, there are still episodes that are worse than this one...

Here’s Part 2

[thewritingstar]

The Sun Sets With You

Pairing: Blossutch 

Fandom: Powerpuff Girls 

Rating: T

Word count: 6k 

Warnings: Major Character Death. 

Note: I am so excited to finish this fic! Thank you so much to @creativecilla for commissioning time and time again. She asked for a sad and angsty fic so I hope I delivered! (She also asked for a happy fic so dont worry that's coming soon)

Don't worry there will be a little bonus after this so don't come for my throat too hard.

Anyways, I hope that you enjoy this because I had the time of my life writing it while crying.

Thanks for reading <3

(the italicized is flashbacks just in case ya confused :) 

✼　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　✼

“Your love is like a sunset, the longer I wait, it slowly fades into the sea, making a beautiful distraction, As loneliness and despair creep from behind like the shadow of the night.” -Albion Gremory

✼　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　✼

The gate waits patiently for her to cross. It's black and shiny as if it were polished just for her. She has been here for almost an hour and yet she hasn't moved an inch. The bouquet of flowers she spent just as long picking out are starting to get annoyed by her lack of movement and although they don’t have a voice or emotions, she can tell they are growing weary too.

She doesn’t understand. Why couldn’t she simply walk forward and make this easy? She was a trained assassin, a spy at the very core where nothing could challenge her except for this field of grass. Grass that is bright green and thriving yet underneath its healthy roots, is a minefield of bodies. It's odd to think about. The care and water used to make sure that the green is at its brightest and the stone looks nice but in reality, it won’t matter.

Nothing matters anymore.

Her grip tightens on the poor flowers. A frail red ribbon holds them together instead of being wrapped in her ginger hair where it belongs. The last time she wore it was the day...it's been a while.

The cemetery has a familiar feel to it. She’s been here before. She has been here many times and has even memorized the grounds. However, this time is much more...intimate. A much more personal experience.

It was never personal because in her line of work, this was normal and happened often. You would come into the office and hear about the poor sucker that got shot, stabbed or blown to bits, grab a hopefully fresh cup of coffee and make sure that you don’t end up the same as them. It was all a part of the job to join the unavoidable circle of life.

Before it was just people whose identities changed day in and day out to avoid this particular outcome. To avoid becoming worm food and having fresh flowers at the bottom of your name. Death never meant anything to her but an end we all have to face. It never meant to stop and think about your life because she didn’t have one to live.

There was no glory waiting for her back home as she finished another mission. There was no dream to achieve because she plagued those of her mind years ago. Warmth and desire from others could not be tolerated. It was dangerous to have anyone close to you but hurt even more when they were gone.

Her dreams had been swept into the night and burned like a fallen star. They were meant for rare quiet days where she could close her eyes and have a glimpse of another chance at life and then it would be over and she couldn’t allow anyone to hold her back. But just as there are dreams, nightmares will surface too.

This was a nightmare only for her eyes. It was common for members of their work to come and pay respects if they got time but for this, she asked that she would be the first. And only then was anyone else allowed.

The months that ate away at her aching heart caused her to be the opposite. She said she had gone, said her dues and the rest followed. Her lies now corrupted her normal life, if you could even call it normal.

So she became the last person and perhaps that's for the best. Even in death, she keeps him waiting. But unlike the other times, he couldn’t leave or say anything about it. The silence of the coffin was enough for her to know that she might get the last words like always but she doesn’t want them.

She would rather keep her words to herself, her mouth stapled shut than utter the last words. She also knew that he would rather listen to her all day than have a moment of silence.

So here she is. A little black dress that poofs out gently at the bottom just above her knees. It was the same dress she had worn on their mission in Italy years ago. It had ended up on the hotel bathroom floor much sooner than expected, however this time the smell of sandalwood and pine had been washed out.

She feels like a housewife ready to see her lost husband coming back from the war in the form of a corpse. The only difference is her vision won’t include the golden bands. Her thumb grazes her ring finger feeling nothing but bare skin and it pains her to think that she was so close. So close to a dream.

She inhales and exhales. Her ability to control her emotions is unlike anyone else. If she chooses to be a stone wall, then nothing will make her crumble. For years she had seen bloodshed and violence. Encountered dangerous people and never once had a hard time sleeping.

Steps take her closer and she feels herself start to decay brick by brick.

Every breath comes out colder and slower and she doesn’t have to look to know she's right in front of it because all the oxygen surrounding her has left and replaced with a frosted void she's grown used to over these past few months.

“Hello.” Her voice is firm and polite.

Formal. She’s too formal and she can practically feel him rolling in his grave to tell her to die it down. Die it down. She hums at that thought and complies with the request that wasn’t even asked but she knows him.

Her feet slip out of her heels, the ones he had bought randomly. The ones she had danced in as he spun her slowly. Her toes feel the dew on the grass. She hates the feeling, her exposed skin starts to itch and irritate her but that just reminds her of her beating heart. So she forces herself to rest on her knees but keeps her eyes shut. Bravery was never something she lacked.

But being brave with her vulnerable emotions had never come easy.

“Just open them.” She scolds herself. No one is around but she feels like the entire world is staring at her.

This isn't work.

This isn’t a mission.

This is him.

Slowly her eyes flutter open to reveal the truth she tried to conceal. The wall inside of her has fallen. There's a suffocating way about this all. She's a woman of logic, a see it before believe it kind-of-person. It's a crumbling mess that turns her into ruins.

And that's when it hits her.

Like the fall of Rome, there are no survivors. There is no happy ending here. Everything leads to Rome...everything leads to heartbreak eventually.

Tears overwhelm everything else. Blossom Utonium has cried for a fallen coworker but never once had she had to grieve and take in the burden of her heart growing dark and heavy.

Her fingers clench the soil. She didn’t want to cry. Didn’t want to sob, not at the risk of seeming weak, but to actually force herself to come to terms with it. To see it written in stone as literal as it comes.

Butch Jojo is dead.

There’s no other way to put it. No soft angle to come at. No lessening the blow because she was there and saw it with her own eyes. No one had to tell her because she relieved it every time her eyes closed.

How was she supposed to go on? He was the piece of her puzzle that fit so neatly and perfectly. She didn’t realize that the picture became indecipherable the moment he was removed. She clawed at that table trying to put back all the pieces. Trying to figure out where they all go but she's left with segments that don’t seem to fit any longer.

He was her sun and moon, the day and night and every other cliche slapped onto an overpriced Hallmark card. He was it all, and now he is gone. Gone too soon and she barely had him in the first place.

The gravestone itself is simple. It's the only one on the lot that isn't decorated by a three foot high statue or a giant cross. It's as basic as they come yet the man it was for was far from it. There was no luxury of filling the coffin with a body. So every bit of him was taken physically and metaphorically from her.

His name is in an elegant cursive and his birth name. Something most people didn’t know. Usually spies and assassins change up their name to make their identity untraceable. She had known him as many different names, but Butch was the only one who she cared about. The only one to ever make her feel like herself.

Her fingers hover above the engraving before setting on the coldness and tracing it with the tip of her index finger. It takes her breath away like an old candle finally burning out.

She wonders if a cruel joke is being played on her as she stares at the curls of the cursive. It was the same font she had chosen for their makeshift wedding invitations the moment she realized that he was the one. Of course he would have had comic sans or some heavy metal font on his tombstone if he was given the chance just to spite everything and everyone.

She's sure that this was already made far before his death. In fact, she's convinced that everyone already has a grave with their name stored somewhere in the back for fast and easy access. Hers is probably waiting and collecting dust.

“Hi.” She utters, less formal than the first time and that felt like ages ago. “For the first time, I’m speechless.” She confesses. “I’m not quite sure what to say.”

For days she sat underneath her flickering desk light writing a speech for a funeral that no one would attend.

The words never came into place even though she deemed herself a thoughtful writer. But what do you say when the person who gave you a reason to speak is gone? Was there anything worth uttering when she couldn’t bring herself to do it?

But she wrote. She wrote everything she had felt and ended with a flood of pages on her desk. Pens with tired ink cartridges littered her desk and endless chicken scratched papers were tossed away. It needed to be thoughtful and inviting but in reality, it just needed to be the words she never said.

The moment she finished writing them, she threw them into a box to never see the light of day. But when she finally had the courage to come and pay her respects, she became drawn to them. Her mind fought with her hands to take them even if she decided to keep them in her purse.

Her purse opens and she takes out a few pages. The ones that made her heart ache the most and that are decorated with stains of dried tears. She clears her throat. “The first time I met you, I thought nothing of it. It was in front of the coffee maker at work, you had just joined our firm and you walked by, glanced at me and then you were gone into the other room. That was it. That's what we were meant to be. A simple meeting of the eyes and then we don’t interact again.”

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The coffee drips way too slow, she thinks. A state of the art facility full of lasers, guns and cars and they couldn’t be bothered to get something just slightly better. The mug finishes filling just in time for her patience to run out. She grabs it and turns to look out towards the rows of cubicles that make it seem like a simple office.

Instead of a bored coworker looking tired at a computer, she's met with green eyes and an emotionless face. For a second she saw his lips turn into a smirk. It's quick. A match striking the box with a flame igniting on impact. And then it’s dropped in water and out just as fast. He's gone by the time she blinks next and even though it was nothing, those eyes fueled a fire she wasn’t sure she had.

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“But then I kept seeing more and more of you.”

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“You clean up nice.” Blossom turned to see a guy. She recognized him from last week, a new transfer who she only caught a glance at. He was in a highly expensive tux and was adjusting the equally priced watch on his wrist.

“I assume you must be my new partner.” She said as she mentally analyzed him slowly. Slicked black hair, looks as if he goes to the gym quite often, hands looks steady for a firearm. Green. Forest green eyes.

He smiled. “Must be.”

“You can call me Amanda.” Her fake name suited her fine as she checked the time. “I hope that you read over the files of our mission.”

“I tend to skim and wing it.” He winked and that irked her. “Matts fine for the evening.”

Blossom, or Amanda for now, kept her eyes from rolling and walked to him and wrapped her arm around his. “You might be my husband for this mission but if you fuck up, you better be thankful this isn’t legally bounded.” She finished with a flutter of her eyelashes and a smile before pulling him along.

She didn’t get too far before he pulled her back and her bright pink eyes met deep green ones closely. “I take my job very seriously. But I wouldn’t dream of making you mad at me. But on the other hand, I admire strong women.”

She didn’t know why she didn’t smack him in the face. Usually every partner who has tried to flirt or mess with her learned the hard way that is a no no. Yet, even after moments of knowing him, there was something genuine about him that she couldn’t quite understand but became interested in.

“Glad to see we are on the same page Matt.”

“Of course Amanda.” Butch replied and held out his hand. “After you.”

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The trees nearby moved in the breeze without a care in the world. They had nothing to care for except for their leaves changing in the fall and losing them in the winter. But leaves always came back, they always blossomed and started a new life and were the same tree no matter how many times the seasons passed.

She wondered if those trees ever felt heartbreak or if it was easier to lose something when you know it will come back to you with time. She envied those trees. Envied the way that they can continue their lives just growing and flourishing and it felt like her leaves were turning to dust as she was being cut down.

From her purse she pulled out a thermos and two plastic cups. She nestled one into the ground as she poured the wine into the cup and then one into hers.

“I never cared for this brand of wine before I met you.” She smiled softly and took a sip. “Never cared for a lot of things. Yet this was your favorite and everytime we had a mission, I could always find you relaxing with a glass. I guess it became an acquired taste over time. You became my taste.”

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“Care for a glass?” He asked her as she sat in front of the fireplace.

Due to them working together for more than a year, the agency decided that personal rooms weren’t necessary and if anyone were to see them leave together and follow, it would fit with their stories.

Blossom looked up from the book she just pulled out. A dissatisfying glare focused on the bottle in his hand. “No thanks, that stuff is garbage.”

Butch, or well, Sebastian for the evening, scoffed. “Garbage?” He exclaimed dramatically. “This is some of the finest wine in the world.”

“I’ve had better.”

“It's from Italy!”

“I prefer local or even cheap box wine to that.” Blossom scanned her book.

Butch only huffed again but still proceeded to pour two glasses and joined her on the floor.

“I said I didn’t want any.”

“I think you just haven’t had it with the right company.” He smirked and offered her the glass.

She rolled her eyes and took the glass, her book forgotten now. Blossom brought the glass to her lips, took a sip and tried her best to hold back a grimace. “It's fine.”

He only shook his head and drank his own glass, the small smile on his lips never leaving. “Butch.”

She turned the glass in her hand then glanced at him. “What?”

“Butch. That's my name, my real name.”

Her heart started beating quicker. “Why are you telling me this? You shouldn’t be.”

It was a common understanding. You might know the face of your partner or colleagues but a name and identity was off the table. The only thing anyone needed to track down someone was a name. And the moment it's out there, you can start counting your days.

Butch shurgged and downed the rest of his wine. “Not sure. Never told anyone before. Well anyone who I didn't know beforehand. But there's something about you. I don’t think you fully trust me. I get it of course. I don’t trust people at all.”

“So why tell me?” She questioned.

His eyes met hers. Seriousness washed across his face and any hint of amusement was gone. “I have no one in my life who knows me as Butch anymore. Only myself and my thoughts. And after years in this shit business-you’re the only partner I’ve had that I trust with my life.”

Her fingers tighten around the stem of the glass. Her poor heart is beating much faster; she's sure he can hear it. She’s never had a partner like him. Never met a person who she blindly trusted like this.

“Blossom.” She blurts out. “My name is Blossom.”

And that smirk returns and his eyes soften. She's seen him kill a man before and yet he looks so incredibly soft and honest.

“That's a pretty unique name.”

“My father told me it was because of cherry blossom trees.” She smiles at the memory. She reaches and takes the brown contact from her eyes. Her main defying feature that no one but the higher ups knew about.

Her eyelashes flutter as she places them in the contacts case. She looks back at Butch and prepares for the intergation look.

It never comes.

Instead he's looking at her as if she's the most interesting thing in the world. Pastel pink eyes greet his own and he's taken back and tries to keep these emotions down.

“Its weird I know-

“You’re the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever met.” He interrupts. “And I swear I’m not drunk.

That flicker resurfaced. The match struck the box but the flame was held much longer this time. Her reaction surprised the both of them as she laughed and her smile reached her eyes, something they haven’t done naturally in years.

She controlled her laugh and hummed bringing the glass to her lips and taking another sip. It wasn’t as bad as the first. “And you are very-”

“Charming? Irresistible?”

“Interesting.” She finished.

The bottle poured more wine into his glass and he tapped it to hers. “I’ll take it for now.” He winked.

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Her glass is empty now. She pours the glass for him into the soil, hoping to give him one last taste of what he loved.

“Over the years I forgot myself, you have to.” Blossom tells him. “I forgot my passions and hobbies. The simple pleasures of life were taken from me when I joined this path.”

The books on her shelf at home had collected dust over the years. The pages stuck as the days passed but only recently did she find herself opening them, even to just a random page and basking in the tiny shred of warmth it gave her.

“I felt those pleasures rise with you. Even buying a simple candle because you said you liked the scent brought me a joy I hadn’t noticed was missing. I was missing everything in life because I didn’t have a light to guide me.”

She bites her lips hoping to stop another sob. How many tears can a person shed in a short amount of time? When do they stop and allow the body to rest?

“That first time you kissed me.” Her voice cracks. “That's when I started believing that life could be more than what we were conditioned to do.”

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Her feet ached. Her heels were in her hands and she was tired from another successful work day. After six months of locating and sniffing out an underground drug market, they finally caught the group of men.

She glanced at her shoes and dress, irritated that the blood ruined another perfectly good outfit. She wanted to just get into her room, take a bath and pass out on her bed and to not be distrubed for at least seventy two hours.

She got to her hotel door and started to search for her key.

“Oh shit.” She grumbled. Her purse was nowhere in sight.

“Here.”

Blossom turned to see Butch holding the desginer bag.

A sigh of relief left her lips as she took it and fished out the key card. He leaned against the wall, clearly tired and wanting to rest like her. Two years they had been partners. The longest partnership she’s had and she wasn’t complaining. Usually they shared a room on missions but they had separate rooms this time.

“Tired?” She glanced at him.

“No, I'm fully awake.” He said sarcastically. “I feel like I got hit by a freight train.”

“I’m sure those guys thought they did too when you punched them.” Her door clicked open but she didn’t move.

“Oh please, you did most of the heavy lifting. I mean who takes down a giant dude with a high kick in heels.” He was practically beaming with pride from the memory. “Badass stuff Bloss.”

She was sure there was a blush on her cheeks. Shaking those thoughts from her head she smiled and opened the door. “Goodnight Butch.”

“Night.”

…

..

.

“Isn’t this the part where you walk into your room?” He raises a bow that is answering the silent question she asked.

She straightens her back. “Shouldn’t you be walking to yours?”

He moves closer to her. Brushing the hair on her shoulders off and there's a buzz throughout her as his fingers graze her shoulders.

He's closer now. Their lips only inches apart and although her body is killing her and aching, she can’t help but let her mind wander.

“I prefer the view right here.” He says in almost a whisper that makes the hairs on the back of her neck stand. “And possibly even the taste.”

His lips press against hers. They have kissed many times in front of people on missions but it's never been like this. Never a sign that everything she had been feeling, wanting could be hers for the taking.

It's not fast and heated. It's slow as if he's testing out the waters that he can glady swim in. It's a sign that they know they shouldn’t be doing this but for once, she's playing by a different set of rules.

They break apart. The kiss wasn’t very long but the sparks linger and scorch through her body. She's afraid to look at him now. Afraid that rejection and everything she had told herself not to want, can’t be hers. The ground should just swallow her whole now.

She feels a hand softly touch her cheek and she looks up at him. This look on his face, she can't describe it. She can see the gears turning in his head, wondering if this was a mistake just as she thought.

But rejection never comes. He doesn’t pull or push away.

Instead his lips turn slightly up. “I know we fight for the greater good, but I’m starting to think I have a different purpose.”

“What?” She questions.

“You.”

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She could have sworn it's only been a few minutes but the sky’s blue had morphed into a dusty pink. A wonderful sunset that she is surprised she can still find beauty in. She knows she’ll have to leave soon. She is afraid that when she does, she might not come back.

One of the final happy moments with him was weeks before his death. Five years they had known each other and it was all washed down the drain.

Her head turns towards the sky as she basks in the sunset. “I hope that wherever you are there are still skies like these.”

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Sunsets in Hawaii were much better in person than any photo could capture.

“Another successful mission.” Blossom giggles as she takes a sip of her mai tai. Her feet are swaying above the water and the breeze flows through her hair. She hasn’t remembered being this peaceful but she could get used to it.

“Yeah.” Butch says as he downs his drink.

Five years she's known him. Every action and mannerism he's done is burned in her memory. It's the most priceless information she has, the most important because it's all hers.

He seems calm, she admits. But something is on his mind. He's not thriving in the glory of another mission or running around crazy and jumping into the ocean like the days before. He seems to be in deep thought. Something she's not quite sure she likes.

The horizon catches her eyes. “The sky is pretty.” She adds.

“Runaway with me.”

The movement of the waves stops. The breeze halts and her eyes widen.

“What?” She turns towards him. “Runaway?”

He nods. “Runaway from this place and all its madness. We could get married, travel the world, anything you want.” He took her hand. “I don’t care where we go. I just want to be with you.”

“With me?” She's practically speechless.

Butch cracks a smile. “Only you. Imagine this.” He scoots closer to her and wraps his arm around her shoulder. “A house on private property, hell maybe even a beachfront. You have your own little library and I’ll even get you a nice espresso machine. A garden with all the flowers you could imagine and even a baby grand piano since I know how much you love to play.”

The images flood her mind. “That sounds lovely.”

“And you wanna know the best part?” He asks.

She nods her head. “Tell me.”

“I would get to wake up each morning with you in my arms.” He smirks and kisses her softly.

“That would be the best part.” She hums against his lips. Her stomach then drops. “But we can’t.”

“Three good reasons.”

She tried to think. How could she leave the agency she's been in since she was a kid? How could she throw everything away? These feelings she had were all muddled into a mess that she didn’t know how to get out of. That vision he told her sounded like a dream.

That's what this was. A dream. Something she wasn’t allowed to have. But she wanted it.

Butch sighed. “I guess it's easier for me cause I’m selfish.” He smiled softly at her and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Whatever choice you make, as long as I can still be by your side, is fine by me.”

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Blossom looks at the notes in her hands then back to the stone.

“I’m sorry Butch.” She cries and crumples them. Tears overwhelm her once again but she doesn’t wipe them or try to stop it. She is a dam that's been holding it all for too long. Holding her emotions for years and she was tired.

“Everyone told me to come here to get closure, but I don't want that. I want to feel the emptiness and shallowness. I want to cry myself to sleep and wish I could hold you again. It's torturous and cruel to think like that but it means that it was real. And that it was mine. This-” She beats her fingers against her chest, against her heart. “This is yours.”

“I am sorry Butch. I vowed to never let my heart act over my head. And that is something I regret deeply. You were right. You always have been. You wanted me without hesitation and I’m sorry I was guarded. But I swear when I was with you I wasn’t.”

The laughter and joy he brought her. She felt like she was breathing for the first time around him and even in the most serious situations there was still an element of peace.

“I had hoped that I would never have to say this. Never had to face this reality because it's too painful. I tried to deny it all, even though I watched it happen. Maybe if I had never let myself be charmed by you, I could avoid all these feelings but we both know that you were just so-’ She bites a laugh. “Irresistible.”

Her voice got louder as her sobs grew. “Every single moment was worth it. Your eyes and your smile. The way you knew what I was thinking even though no one else could ever know. I treated it like our job but the truth is, I wanted you to figure me out so I could finally tell myself it's okay to be happy. That's what you were Butch. My happiness.”

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This can’t be happening, she thought. Never in her entire career had she been kidnapped and captured. She was careful and guarded but they got the best of them this time.

The gag in her mouth was doing its job and her wrists were bound behind her back. The cold chill ran up her spine as she watched the men drag him in front of her. He was a few feet away and his face was covered in blood and bruises.

“Only one of you makes it out alive.” The man said.

She tried to pull against the restraints but felt the cool metal touch the back of her head.

“No moving sweetheart.” She heard behind her.

She watched as they removed Butch’s gag and he choked on the air before his hair was pulled and he was forced to look at her.

Those dark green eyes met with frightened brown but he knew that below the color was a brilliance of magenta that he adored.

He should be scared and terrified. And he was. But looking at her even in this state, he felt a sense of happiness wash over him. Everything he never thought he could have was right there in front of him.

Tears fell from her eyes as she watched the man stab him in the stomach. The knife plunged into his flesh and Butch let out a horrifc cry as she screamed into the gag.

“Dying words buddy?” The man laughed as he pulled out a gun and held it up to head.

Even through the pain shooting through his body, he looked at her with tears in his eyes.

His lips turned into a smile, even with blood coating his teeth. “Blossom-” He coughed.

No.

No.

Please No!

She wanted to scream and tell him that she takes it all back. She wanted her dress and the ring. She wanted their own house and a piano where she could play for him.

Everything. She wanted everything.

She wanted him.

“I love you.” He says. 

BAM!

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Her breath catches in her throat as she sees it. The blood and the life leaving his eyes. It replays and she tries to stop the memory.

“Could you ever forgive me?” She sobs. “Forgive me for not telling you?”

Her hand presses against the gravestone. She's not sure what she's hoping for but it's cold.

“You said it moments before your death and I couldn’t even let you die with that. Yet through that you smiled at me. You fucking smiled as death was taking you faster than I could realize because you knew. I couldn’t say it. No matter how much I wanted to tell you, I was afraid that the moment I did, this would happen. I wasn’t prepared to lose you. I wasn’t ready to face a life where I would spend every waking moment wondering if waking up next to you was truly real or a dream.”

Anger rises in her. Anger at the world and the men who killed him. Angry at the agency who turned the other eye when he died. There was nothing for her there anymore. She realized it way too late that she was robbed of everything from this life. Robbed of having him because she was afraid.

“I don't get it. How did you make me want that so bad? How you took my heart and made it beat faster than ever before. You told me to be selfish so here it is. I want you. I want you back and alive so that I can go and buy that white dress. I want everything you said.”

The anger bubbling shifts. It lingers but she takes a deep breath. It won’t help her to be angry or to bring him back. That sorrow takes its hold over her again. It's sad but calming as she tries to reason with herself that he is gone. She knows closure won’t come but she's okay with that.

“But that's not the reality anymore. I can’t change the past but I won’t change the future either. I am deeply and madly in love with you Butch. You gave me a glimpse of what a normal and fulfilling life could be and I thank you for that. Thank you for giving me slices of happiness and making me feel like I was worth loving.”

She reaches into her purse one last time and pulls out a letter and a box. “I resigned and I bought myself a ring.” She opens it and slips on the silver band with a small opal. “It's silly I know, not even a wedding ring. I hope you don’t mind. I stole one of the gems from your watch to make it.” She cries.

“They took all your stuff you know.” Her hands quiver as she stares at her ring. “They took every part of you like it was nothing, like you didn’t exist at all. The watch was all I could get.”

The sun is now setting and the breeze picks up. She's not cold anymore, and can't feel anything.

“They’ll kill me, I'm sure of it. That's what happens when you leave. And when they do, I better see you on the other side. A place where we can watch the sunset and have our little home. A place where this emptiness inside me can be whole again. I just want a place where I can love you.”

The glasses and letters go back into her purse. The flowers lay with her ribbon at the base as she stands and dusts off her dress.

She finally wipes her tears and forces a wonderful soft smile. “You were the most charming and wonderful man I have ever had the honor of working with. But most importantly, you were proof that dreams could come true.”

She touches the stone one last time. Feels the coolness but it's not as frightening. She's not afraid anymore. Blossom takes a step back and her eyes dance over his name one last time. She slips on her heels and grabs her purse.

“Goodbye my love.” She says and makes her way across the grass to the black gate.

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I hope you enjoyed! 

[chaos-of-the-abyss]

Why Dany’s Motivation for Abolishing Slavery is Not “Condescending Compassion”

Anon: Someone I know irl keeps who’s a Dany anti keeps saying that they don’t like Dany because she has “condescending compassion” for the slaves she freed. I really want to argue back because I know they’re wrong, but I can’t articulate why. Could you give me an example of what condescending compassion really is, and explain why that’s not what Dany is showing?

Whew, it’s been a while since I got an ask about Dany, but I’m always open to defend her. This one was long and interesting for me, so I put it in post form rather than just answering the ask. I hope you don’t mind, anon. 

Dany’s attitude towards the freedmen and the slaves she wants to free in the future is far from “condescending compassion.”

“Condescending Compassion is when a person feels magnanimous enough not to hold someone's 'faults' against them openly. They can't help being a commoner, idiot, mutant or simply wrong so it would be rude to treat them badly because of it. Instead, they resort to the much better idea that they should be sympathetic or even friendly to that lesser being, but of course, they won't really take them seriously.”

Source

This is not what Dany does. Here’s an actual example of condescending compassion. Under the cut for length and Fate/Grand Order spoilers, even though I really don’t think any of my followers know about or play it except for my constant spamming. Also, I will warn you that I ended up talking more about Fate/Grand Order than Dany because I was trying to explain the example, so... sorry about that. Also I got carried away

Someone who really exhibits a serious case of condescending compassion would be Goetia, the main antagonist of Fate/Grand Order Arc 1: Observer on Timeless Temple. Goetia is one of the seven Evils of Humanity, the Sin of Pity, which is, in essence, the embodiment of condescending compassion. To explain: 

Goetia was essentially the collective consciousness of the 72 Demon God Pillars, who were familiars of King Solomon, the founder of magecraft. Solomon made a spell to manifest said collective consciousness as Goetia, so the Demon God Pillars could continue to protect humanity after his death.

As Solomon’s familiar, Goetia shared Solomon’s ability of Clairvoyance, which, in Solomon’s case, enabled him to see all of the past and all of the future. Over time, Goetia became enraged that Solomon refused to do anything about the constant death and suffering of humanity despite being an extremely powerful mage who could see all the hardships that had occurred and were in store (thanks to his Clairvoyance). Thus, after Solomon’s death, Goetia possessed Solomon’s corpse, obtaining the majority of his powers as well as nine of the ten rings given to Solomon by God, which was the source of a good bit of Solomon’s abilities. The tenth ring, however, was sent into the future by Solomon on God’s command, so Goetia wasn’t able to obtain it. That’s an important plot point for later.

Goetia waited until modern day (2018 I think?) and then used measures he had put in place to wipe out all of humanity. Not just the humans living in the present, but all of the humans who had lived in the past were killed, too. So think of it as everyone who exists, ever existed, or will exist, dead. The only survivors were the protagonists of Fate/Grand Order. 

After incinerating humanity, Goetia planned to convert all of the destroyed mankind into magical energy, which he would then use to travel back in time to the planet’s creation. He wanted to start Earth all over again and establish a new humanity. However, this new humanity would be different from the old humanity; they would be unchanging, deathless organisms with no biological or emotional flaws, much like Goetia himself. 

The thing is, Goetia loved humanity in his own way and wanted what he thought was best for them. It essentially goes like this: Humans know so little, while his knowledge, through his Clairvoyance, borders on omniscience. Humans turn on and hurt each other for their own self-interest, while he is capable of thinking and acting on a much wider scale. Humans have to die eventually, unlike him who’s immortal, and so everything that every single human ever did, in Goetia’s mind, was for nothing. Why would it have meaning, if their only possible option is to die eventually? 

Poor things, right? He has to help them. They came out wrong. They’re so weak and hopeless, so he’s going to destroy their existence and their history and create them anew, the right way. (Aka his way.)

The way he loves humanity is belittling. No one wants help from someone who thinks of them like that. This quote is a pretty good summation of his love for humanity, borne of a legitimate case of condescending compassion.

“Do you think being forced to watch the lives of humans is an interesting task, one worthy of me!? I’m sick of it! No matter what happens, they just disappear, and only fear remains! Every human’s life is a story of hate and despair! It’s a terrible thing to watch!”

He invalidates all of humanity’s struggles, every single human’s life, because he’s not human himself. It’s not true that death means that everything that one ever does is pointless, but Goetia, being an immortal being unfamiliar with the concept of death, someone who doesn’t have to worry about an end ever coming to him, doesn’t understand that (for now). This is displayed in the multiple times he asks the protagonist and Mash, the deuteragonist, why. Why do they keep fighting, knowing that they can’t beat him? Even if they somehow could – why do they keep fighting, knowing that they’ll all die one day? Why do they keep fighting, when it’s so pointless?

But then, the basis of Goetia’s immortality is destroyed when Solomon reappears, having actually been one of the protagonist’s main allies disguised as a doctor. Remember that tenth ring that Solomon sent to the future under God’s instruction? Although Goetia has the majority of Solomon’s powers now that he possesses his corpse and the remaining nine rings, the tenth ring was something he never obtained. As it turns out, the real Solomon retrieved that ring, which was used as a catalyst to summon him, when he manifested in the modern era. 

Solomon now uses the power of the gathered ten rings to perform his trump card – The Time of Parting Hath Come, I Am He Who Surrenders the World: Ars Nova – to return all of the powers God gave him back to God. In essence, he “closes the curtain” on himself, everything he has ever done, and everything he’s ever created, including Goetia. Ars Nova removes Solomon entirely from existence (rip), but it also removes Goetia’s immortality, and then the protagonist manages to land a fatal blow on him.

A little before Solomon uses Ars Nova and vanishes, he explains to Goetia why he didn’t try to change humanity the way Goetia did, despite seeing all of the past and future and consequently being exposed over and over again to how inevitable humans’ deaths were. 

“That’s what you fail to understand, Goetia. Of course nothing is eternal, and pain awaits us all in the end. But that doesn’t make life a story of despair. Not at all. It’s a fight against death and separation in what precious little time one is given. It’s a repetition of meeting and parting, despite knowing there’s an end. ...Humans’ stories are dazzling, brief journeys, like the twinkling of the stars. They are stories of love and hope.”

At first, when he was still immortal, Goetia refused this logic, saying that it’s “deception” on Solomon’s part. Now, though, with Solomon having used Ars Nova and the protagonist having landed a fatal blow, Goetia is dying. For the first time, he’s confronted with the possibility of an end to his existence. He has no way, absolutely no means, to prevent his death now. Yet, when the protagonist attempts to escape the now-crumbling dimension in which Goetia made his temple, Goetia says this. (And I cut out a lot, because this is a long-ass monologue.)

“We finally understand each other. I’m not going to let you leave alive. You will die here with me. ...My dream is in ruins. Everything I did here in this temple, all the time I spent planning... All of it, for naught. [...] No matter what I do here, now, I cannot redeem my failure. Killing you will change nothing. ...This is a meaningless battle. This would have been an unthinkable choice for me before. But...

...Yes, indeed. I also have my pride. Or rather, I do now. I now understand human mentality. Now that I have a limited, mortal life, I finally understand. [...] My name is Goetia. I am the one who used humanity to destroy humanity. The one who strove for what lay beyond. A climax with no one around. ...I strove for an empty wish that none truly wanted. I am born now and I shall perish now. This battle may be without resolution or reward, but I shall put my entire being on the line to crush you. ...My sworn enemy. My hatred. My destiny. I want you to witness this. This brief moment is now my story. This brief but precious time has given the creature called Goetia true life.”

This quote is so poignant. Although Goetia attempts to pull a “taking you with me” on the protagonist, this is a rare example of the trope that is not meant to paint the villain in a final negative light, as a petty sore loser. Rather, it’s an indication that Goetia finally understands Solomon’s view on humanity, why humans strive so hard despite their lives being so short, and why the protagonist and Mash put their everything into fighting him despite knowing that they’ll inevitably die no matter what the outcome is. Humans’ time on earth is, in Goetia’s own words, “brief but precious.” He actually echoes what Solomon said about humans’ stories being “dazzling, brief journeys”, despite having so vehemently rejected it when he was immortal.

There’s no point in Goetia killing the protagonist. Just like he once believed human life to be meaningless, it should be meaningless whether he wins or not; he’ll die no matter what, and his plans are already foiled. When he was immortal, he never would have thought like this.

But Goetia isn’t immortal now. He has a finite lifespan; in fact, he’s about to die. There’s nothing he can do to save himself. Yet, he still wants to take the protagonist down with him, simply because he “has his pride.” And what’s more? Even if he loses, he wants the protagonist to witness his end. He asks to be seen, acknowledged, and remembered, despite all his work having been for nothing.

Both of those desires are human things. Goetia now knows what it’s like to be human. His case of condescending compassion is closed; he no longer looks down on humanity, because he understands them. He empathizes with them. He experiences being human. 

But Dany? She never once looked down on the slaves she wanted to free. She doesn’t think, “Oh, poor things. They can’t possibly help themselves, not with how frail and simple they are. They’re so vulnerable, so delicate, so abused. Let me save them.” No. 

Dany always understood what it feels like to be owned. She was abused by her brother for years, with no means to protect herself from him. Then she was sold to a man more than twice her age and made into a glorified sex slave, again with no way to defend herself. She’s already experienced something very much like what the slaves she strives to free have gone through. And even though she later gains agency and power, she never forgets what being owned, being unable to fight back, is like. 

As the hours passed, the terror grew in Dany, until it was all she could do not to scream. She was afraid of the Dothraki, whose ways seemed alien and monstrous, as if they were beasts in human skins and not true men at all. She was afraid of her brother, of what he might do if she failed him. Most of all, she was afraid of what would happen tonight under the stars, when her brother gave her up to the hulking giant who sat drinking beside her with a face as still and cruel as a bronze mask.

A Game of Thrones – Daenerys II

"There speaks one who has been neither." Dany's nostrils flared. "Do you know what it is like to be sold, squire? I do. My brother sold me to Khal Drogo for the promise of a golden crown. Well, Drogo crowned him in gold, though not as he had wished, and I ... my sun-and-stars made a queen of me, but if he had been a different man, it might have been much otherwise. Do you think I have forgotten how it felt to be afraid?"

A Storm of Swords – Daenerys II

Safe. The word made Dany's eyes fill up with tears. "I want to keep you safe." Missandei was only a child. With her, she felt as if she could be a child too. "No one ever kept me safe when I was little. Well, Ser Willem did, but then he died, and Viserys … I want to protect you but … it is so hard. To be strong. I don't always know what I should do. I must know, though. I am all they have. I am the queen … the … the …"

A Dance with Dragons – Daenerys II

More than anything else, Daenerys always understood that her brother sold her as a bargaining chip – his own sister, and he uses her like some animal hide to trade off. She understood that she could do nothing to defend herself when she was with Viserys, and later, with Drogo. If they wanted to hurt her, no one would have stood up for her, no one would have protected her, and if she tried to protect herself, she would have been punished. She was in the same position as an object; no rights and no guarantees of basic decency. Dany experienced that fear and dehumanization firsthand. She empathizes with the slaves she wants to free in the way that Goetia, only at the end of his life, empathized with humans.

That’s why she wants to abolish slavery. She went through that horror firsthand, and she doesn’t want anyone else to have to go through it again. She wants to protect people from it, because she knows how awful and disgusting and traumatic it is. 

TLDR: It’s a complete and gross mischaracterization to write off Dany’s motivations for abolishing slavery as “condescending compassion”. It’s spitting on everything that she suffered from Viserys and from Drogo. It’s empathy, not condescending compassion, that motivates her.