#I think the reason I have so many sole survivors is that took one look at the overly constructive background it gives you | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nightingaelic · 2 years

Note

FO4 Companions react to Sole finding their parents' house virtually untouched by the nuclear annihilation? Essentially preserved by it instead of outright destroyed?

"Ten o'clock. The sun came out from behind the rain. The house stood alone in a city of rubble and ashes. This was the one house left standing. At night the ruined city gave off a radioactive glow which could be seen for miles."

~ Ray Bradbury, "There Will Come Soft Rains"

It was a long shot. Everyone had told them so, after they'd gotten over the initial shock about the vault, the missing years, their real age. But the sole survivor was determined, and there was no way their companion would let them go alone.

The journey was long, perilous, full of shattered asphalt and irradiated creatures with too many heads. Too many limbs. Too many reasons to turn around and retreat to the safety of better-known roads. The pair of travelers kept going anyway, until they finally stood in the street with the name the sole survivor had memorized in grade school, looking up at a house number that had barely faded.

The sole survivor opened the door with the key they had recovered in Sanctuary and stepped into a world that no longer existed. They moved through their childhood home like a dream, running their fingers along the walls as they went. Dust motes took to the air in their wake, swirling in the rays of sunshine that shone through intact windowpanes. The rest of the house remained still: Appliances on the kitchen counter, throw pillows on the couch, pictures on the dresser in the largest bedroom.

Slowly, the sole survivor slid open a drawer in the dresser. A neat stack of folded shirts lay inside, and they lifted the top one with unsure hands. After a moment, they pressed it to their face, then their tightened chest. "I didn't think..."

Cait: "That this place would still be standing?" Cait rubbed her nose and looked away. "I've no clue why it is. All this, just sitting here, and not so much as a broken window."

The sole survivor looked up at the ceiling, then around at the corners of the room. "There's hardly... hardly even water damage. I guess the roof did hold up, after all."

They looked down at the shirt they were holding and hugged it tighter. "You were right, it did make it a few more years," they said softly. "I still would've paid for it. You know that, right?"

"You reckon they can hear you?" Cait asked, jerking her head toward the shirt questioningly.

The sole survivor didn't answer her. They bit their lip, then folded the shirt up again and began tugging open more drawers. "Just give me a bit to find some stuff, okay?"

Codsworth: "Oh, dear." Codsworth bobbed anxiously in the bedroom doorway. "A... apart from the dust, it's in truly remarkable condition. If only your own house had held together so well."

"It's fine, Codsworth." The sole survivor sniffed and rubbed their eyes. "You did your best. I guess Sanctuary saw more... strife, after the war."

"Shall I begin tidying up?" Codsworth offered. "If I know your family, they would certainly appreciate a little helpful housework."

"Sure, Codsworth. You can... you can start in the kitchen. Let me know if you find any... any food that survived."

"Of course." Codsworth ducked out and floated down the hall, out of sight. The sole survivor waited until they heard the bot open cupboards before sinking onto the edge of the bed, letting the shirt cover their sobs.

Curie: "Mon chou." Curie slid her arms around the sole survivor. "I am so very sorry."

She held them as they cried, rocking gently until their shoulders no longer shook and their tears had all been dried with the shirt. Curie patted them on the back when they were quiet again, but she did not let go immediately. "Do you know what happened to them?" she asked.

"I... not... not for sure," the sole survivor admitted. "I don't even know what they were doing that day. They can't have been here, or this place wouldn't be... wouldn't be... right?"

"Perhaps not." Curie sighed and let go of them. She tilted their chin up and wiped away one last tear with her thumb. "If it is not too hard for you, we can look around and see what remains. C'est bon?"

Paladin Danse: Though Danse was still on alert in this new place, he dropped his defensive stance for a moment. "If you would rather be alone for this, I can certainly-"

"Don't go." The sole survivor sniffed and closed their eyes. "I just... I don't..."

They laughed, a high-pitched sound of desperation. "How am I supposed to feel about this? Why did I come here, did I really think that... that they would still be here? God, I'm..."

"Peace, soldier." Danse sighed and let the barrel of his laser rifle drop to point at the floor. "It's natural to want closure. It's human to seek answers. Take whatever time you need, and when you're ready to decide what to do, I'll be outside."

The sole survivor took a deep breath and nodded. "Okay. Un... understood, Paladin."

Deacon: Deacon gritted his teeth. "Yeah... it's weird, right?"

That brought a small chuckle, momentarily breaking the tension. Deacon charged into the opening. "I mean, I didn't want to say anything, since it's your parents' house and all, but if I ever wandered into a place that looked this perfect inside, I'd turn right around and leave. Did they have a Mister Handy too, or...?"

"No." The sole survivor wiped away the tears that had been threatening to fall. "This place might not be so dusty, if they had."

Deacon shrugged. "All things considered, it's still a 10 out of 10 in my travelogue. No radroaches, no super mutants, no cannibals... hell, if it wasn't so out of the way, I'd consider recommending it to Dez as a safehouse."

Dogmeat: Dogmeat padded over to them and scratched their leg with his paw.

The sole survivor held onto the shirt a few seconds longer, then leaned down to offer it to the German shepherd. "It's been too long, buddy," they said. "They're gone. Even you're not that good of a tracker."

Mayor John Hancock: "Damn." Hancock lifted his tricorn hat and scratched his scalp. "Do you want some time alone, or...?"

The sole survivor squeezed their eyes shut and kicked the dresser. It thudded unhelpfully, and all they came away with was a bruise. "Fuck!"

"Take it easy." Hancock gently pulled them away from the offending piece of furniture and took the shirt. "If you aren't careful, you'll lose a toe. Trust me, I speak from experience."

When they started crying, Hancock sat them down on the bed and rooted around in his coat pockets until he found a mostly-clean handkerchief and a syringe of Calmex. The sole survivor accepted the handkerchief, but not the chem, so he rubbed their shoulder until they'd quit sobbing and progressed to hiccups. "Can't be easy to see," he murmured. "Like traveling back in time."

The sole survivor sniffed and handed him his handkerchief back. "Is it bad to say that sometimes... sometimes I wish I could?"

"Nah. I wish it too, on bad days."

Robert Joseph MacCready: "Ah, geez." MacCready flipped his rifle around to his back and opened his arms wide. "Come here."

The sole survivor accepted the hug, and they shook for a bit as he held them. "Hope you don't... don't charge for emotional support services," they joked halfheartedly.

"I don't normally offer them," MacCready replied. "This is different. My heart's not frozen, you know."

"As opposed to mine?"

"Come on. Cryo didn't change you that much, boss." MacCready drew back and gripped their shoulders. "Do you want to get out of here? Can always come back later, when you're more up for it."

"I... yeah." The sole survivor nodded. "Baby steps, right?"

"Baby steps."

Nick Valentine: "Didn't think it'd look like the day you last saw it," Nick finished for them. "Yeah. Kind of amazing, really. Take it from someone else who's technically pre-war, this is downright spooky."

He caught the quiver of their lip and softened his judgment immediately. "Hey, it's not necessarily a bad omen. Maybe they were here for a while, then left when they got word of somewhere better. Maybe they had someone taking care of the place."

"But where did they go?" the sole survivor asked. "Were they safe, were they scared, did they know that I made it into the vault with-"

"Deep breaths." Nick put a hand on their shoulder. "Take a minute for yourself, alright? After that, we can look around. There's bound to be something here that can point us in the right direction."

Piper Wright: "Aw, Blue," Piper said sadly. "I'm really sorry."

The sole survivor turned, sat down on the edge of the bed. They pressed the shirt to their cheek, squeezing their eyes shut. Piper crossed the room, sat down too and put an arm around them while they cried.

When they stopped shaking, Piper pointed to the faded photographs in standing frames. "Tell me who's who. So I can put names to faces."

They stayed like that for a while, the sole survivor recounting days gone by and the reporter asking the occasional question. By the time they were finished, the dust had settled again, and the sunlight through the windows had new slants that made the house seem a little brighter.

Preston Garvey: Preston took off his hat. "I'm sorry, General," he said quietly. "I wish..."

The sole survivor gulped, then folded the shirt up again. "Yeah. Me too."

They carefully slid the item of clothing back onto its stack, then turned to take in the rest of the room. "I don't know if this is better or worse than what I was expecting."

"It's... unusual," Preston admitted. "But maybe they meant to leave it like this. In case you came back, one day."

The sole survivor turned back to him and smiled sadly. "That would be the first time they tidied up just for me," they said. "One final housecleaning."

They moved to leave the room, then paused and threw their arms around Preston. He hugged them back, regretting the fact that he had nothing better to say.

Strong: Strong looked around the room with obvious disappointment. "Why here?" he asked.

"Just go back outside," the sole survivor replied, their voice almost a croak. "I'll come find you when I'm ready to go. And don't touch anything on your way out."

Strong ducked out of the bedroom and shuffled back down the hall. "No milk," he grumbled. "Strong find somewhere else."

X6-88: X6-88 nodded. "Time does not appear to have been as harsh on this neighborhood as others. The Institute has observed similar locations in the past."

The sole survivor looked up. Their eyes were red. "Where else?"

"All over the wasteland. Primarily small streets outside of larger metropolitan areas. It appears to be due to factors such as post-war upkeep, fluke weather conditions, and lack of resources that interest scavengers. Occasionally, the presence of dangers that show no interest in buildings, but are enough to drive the overly-curious away."

The sole survivor looked around in alarm. "Dangers? Do you think we're-"

"Possibly." X6-88 shifted his readied laser rifle. "Do not worry. No harm will come to us. But we should not linger."

BONUS!

Ada: Ada tilted her assaultron head in respect. "It's impressive. I am well-acquainted with regular maintenance and sanitation in order to keep basic processes functional. The state of this dwelling suggests that your family valued the same routines."

"Thank you, Ada," the sole survivor murmured. They rubbed the shirt fabric between their fingers, as if trying to sense the one who used to wear it, summon them back into the world.

By their body language, Ada gathered that they needed some space. She turned and made her way back toward the front door, protectron legs clanking. She scanned each of the rooms she passed, but none of them held any clues as to the fates of the people that used to live there. Perhaps that was for the better.

Old Longfellow: Longfellow grunted his agreement. "Strange."

The sole survivor put the shirt back and shut the drawer. "I thought maybe there would be a handful of things to take home, but this... if I try to carry it all, I'll break my back."

Longfellow nodded. "Leave it. If it's made it this long, it'll keep a while longer."

"But what do I take?"

"Valuables."

They made a face at him. "You and I have different ideas of what's valuable."

In response, Longfellow picked up one of the pictures on the dresser. It had the young sole survivor at the front of it, chubby-faced and smiling while their family waved behind them.

"Yeah." The sole survivor accepted the dusty frame and wiped it clean with their coat sleeve. "This one was always my favorite."

Porter Gage: "Didn't think it'd look the same as when they froze you?" Gage shook his head. "This place has bad luck written all over it, Overboss. Best to be done here quickly. What are we looking for again?"

"Just looking." The sole survivor stuffed the shirt in their pack and grabbed a few more. "These ought to fit me, now. Go check the other rooms, see what you can find."

Gage obliged, ducking into a bathroom and another bedroom before striking gold in a closet. He came away with a pair of boots that were his size, a baseball bat, and a jacket that still looked pretty waterproof.

The sole survivor emerged from the bedroom, swiped the jacket from him and tugged it on. "Mine."

"How much?"

"More than you can afford."

Elder Arthur Maxson: Maxson shifted uncomfortably in the doorway. "Should I..."

The sole survivor glanced up at him, suddenly self-conscious. "Um. Sure. If you don't... yeah."

Maxson stepped outside the room and pulled the door closed behind him. It latched shut with a soft click. The Elder checked that it would open again if need be, then made his way back to the front of the house.

The sole survivor found him a little while later, perusing a shelf of books in the living room. The spines were stiff and their pages loose, but Maxson was handling each one with the reverence of a historian. He glanced up as they approached, pretending not to notice their reddened eyes and nose. "Your family's care has preserved some priceless things," he said.

"Oh." The sole survivor took a deep breath, then caught sight of the book he was holding. "That's just a pulp science fiction collection."

"I am aware."

Desdemona: Desdemona looked around the room. A sad smile ghosted along her lips. "It's charming," she said.

"I- thanks." The sole survivor smiled back, though a tear had already escaped their eye. "It was home, once."

"And you were lucky to know such a place." Desdemona moved to sit down on the edge of the bed. "Come on. Sit down."

The sole survivor obeyed her, still clutching the shirt. Desdemona pried it away slowly and rolled it up, then put an arm around them. "You know they aren't here anymore. But that doesn't mean their end was a hard one."

"Look at the rest of the street." The sole survivor gestured toward the room's window. "This world didn't die well. And if their house looks like this, then that means... that means they didn't make it home."

"Would you rather they lingered?" Desdemona asked quietly.

"No, but-"

"There is no happy ending you can write for them." Desdemona looked toward the window, watching the sun peek through it. "You are the happy ending, now. What you do with that is up to you."

#fallout #fallout 4 #fo4 #companions react #sole survivor #12 days of ficmas

93 notes · View notes

carrotcouple · 5 months

Text

I think Tumblr might have completely shot the quality.

Anyways, say hello the protagonists' group for "The Ashen Magus". This took me two years to finish. not because it was hard, but because I kept putting it off. From left to right, Ilana - The Guardian, Chou - Magus of the Ocean, Yura Corcrain, Zoe and Zander - The Silver Twins, Princess Ebony Rubina Nijik, Jasper - The Eighth General, and Taher of the Sun.

Quick recap to anyone who knew anything about my ocs already and have somewhat forgotten. For those who don't know anything this is for you too, but I promise I am considering character sheets to make everyone's lives easier.

Ilana is a Dura and survivor of the First Battle of Makena where she was forced to kill her father and then go on the run so that the antagonists could not rise up to power again.

Chou is considered the guardian of the Stygian bloodline (which Ebony and the antagonists belong to). She chose to serve Ebony above the antagonists, Vlad and Hypatia. Chou is a mix of many different races, but the one that ended up being prominent was human, as a result, she is a Water Mage.

Yura Corcrain only makes an appearance halfway into the story so anyone who was avidly following my ocs before my tumblr hiatus actually has no knowledge of her. She is Violet's identical twin (who some might remember).

Zoe and Zander are the protagonists of the story. They're both twins and Zoe is an Air Mage and Zander is *looks around and then whispers furiously* his magic is a secret for plot reasons. Those of you who remember and know, well...that's only for you to know. They're the youngest people in this piece....teenagers....

Princess Ebony Rubina Nijik is Vlad and Hypatia's distant niece. She's the only remaining survivor of her immediate family and she was in hiding for decades before the plot starts. She is a Plant Mage. She's also YES. the shortest. Zander makes fun of her for it. She stabs him for it.

Jasper - The Eighth General, is a Prince of Yaqut who ended up serving as a general to the army that was brought together for the sole purpose of ending Vlad and Hypatia's reign. He is the youngest and last general of the army. He's a Metal Mage (which sounds really weird actually).

And lastly, Taher of the Sun is one of the Fire Folk. He served as one of Queen Hypatia's closest confidants. However during the First Battle of Makena, for some unknown reason he betrayed her. Now he works with Chou primarily.

#sunny arts #sunny's ocs #the ashen magus #zoe and zander #jasper #ilana #yura #ebony #chou #taher #i had to research armor for this piece #i hated it #some of these people do not wear armor and you can see it #at least zander is wearing more clothes than they are #chou and taher don't even have shoes #you ask do those idiots go into war like that #yeah #luckily for them they're actually unparalleled warriors so #they aren't dead yet

3 notes · View notes

pimento-playing-hopscotch · 4 months

Note

hi there my darling. <3 i'm sorry it's rough lately. i come with questions about some fictional dudes you love.

🔪 What character are you defending with your life? (I think I know!!! 🤭)

🐠Give us a headcanon about (tk and Owen’s relationship)!

❤️ Favorite part of your favorite ship?

Hello lovely 🥰🥰 Thank you for putting up with me ♥️♥️

🔪- most likely yes it’s the one you think it is- I am the head of the Owen Strand defense squad.

Which it is an interesting time in the rewatch to be making this point (this is too big to put in parentheses yet here I go- season three did Owen so dirty- I know they were going for the therapy angle but we went from Owen attacked someone because he is spiraling from finding out he has cancer and- which I know this is dicey because people on here love them some Billy Tyson- but he’s just such a cartoonish mustache twirling villain- like he only got the job because Owen turned it down and the first thing he does is close the 126? That punch was more justified than Owen just punches everyone he has a disagreement with).

Oh bestie why would you do this to me lol- I can’t be normal about this topic 🫣🫣

But there is so much good in Owen and he sees so much good in other people; he sees someone who has never gotten approval from his father and whose job is telling him he screwed up big and tells him “no there should be more people in your profession like you, to hell with anyone who doesn’t agree your old man included” He finds the youngest member of his firehouse sleeping in the gym and says I have an extra room, it’s yours, you can live here forever and that would be fine - he looks the lone survivor of a tragedy in the eye and says you deserve to be here but if you don’t get a handle on the guilt you feel because you’re here and they aren’t well it will consume you alive, I know this better than anyone”

Which is another thing- Owen definitely has chronic hero syndrome but Owen has also been the sole survivor so many times in his life and he fucking hates that- he couldn’t save his brother and ended his parents marriage; there were 14 guys who didn’t get to go home to their families when he did. And when guilt and grief and shame tried to swallow him up he let those feelings win for a while but I refuse to believe that he missed TK’s entire childhood because then, TK wouldn’t have wanted to go to work with that person-

Which is to say, he isn’t a perfect parent but damn he is a good one- and one thing for sure he never made his son feel like he couldn’t be who he was (or that he was such a disappointment that forcing himself to be straight was the answer). But Owen loves his kid and they are so close that TK is as fiercely protective of his dad as his dad is of him, which I feel you really don’t see too much of especially between a grown father and son (the closest I can come up with is Stiles and his father from Teen Wolf - even though Stiles is technically a teenager)

I’m sorry that was so unhinged- but I’ve written a quarter million words on this topic for a reason lol

🐠- (not gonna rant about how it’s that Owen was not completely absent from TK’s life after he turned seven, not gonna do it)

But in light of where the rewatch is, I will say that I HC that Owen and TK talked about TK’s sobriety after the Sadie incident (I’m sorry, I have had so many people try to nicely explain this choice to me but I can’t accept this; there is no reason this should count as a relapse because it was not a choice. If the choice was made for you, then it’s not relapsing). Which I headcanon- I have to believe this because season 3 took every time TK should have talked with his dad and then purposely refused to show it (literally, a man fired a gun into an ambulance TK was in and we didn’t even get a hug from that) so I have to believe that TK and Owen talked about it. Because Owen has seen TK relapse before and could have pointed out, “you didn’t do this. This wasn’t your fault. If you need to be mad at someone then be mad at me, but I don’t want you blaming yourself for this”. And TK pointing out that if not for Owen, he would’ve taken the drugs from the ambulance after Gwyn’s death, so even if what happened with Sadie wasn’t his fault those two incidents make him feel like he lost something and needs to get his feet on solid ground.

❤️ - (this will sound so stupid; which so has the rest of this lol) but I love that you really see Carlos and TK’s relationship develop and change. Like they were so bad at communicating things to each other (that break up was on both sides, you can never convince me that was all TK’s fault) but season four might be my favorite season because things come up and they work through them together (like 98% of the time, granted) and this may be too broad of an answer but it’s what I came up with.

Thank you for the asks- sorry for the rambles 🫣🫶♥️

#answered asks #911 lone star #owen strand #tk strand

5 notes · View notes

ladycatofwinterfell · 1 year

Note

fun? That would be devastating

do it

I don't know which one would hurt more if someone else killed one of them or if it's the two of them untill the end maybe one of them would kill themselves to lessen the pain

I couldn’t help myself, I simply had to write a little one-shot :) is this part of the main au? is this an alternative version? I can’t say, but it’s not happy

It must have been a few hours since the canon. They had neither heard nor seen what happened to Cersei Lannister, what mattered was that she was dead. The three of them had been the only ones left and something in the jungle had killed her. Catelyn had wanted to be the one to do it. She would have liked to go out that way, entangled in a fight with Cersei. In an ideal world they would have killed each other and Ned would have been the last one alive, the sole survivor. Instead she was still alive.

They had got out of the initial fighting alive, together with her uncle, Donella and Howland Reed from 3, Ned’s close friend. The bloodbath had been terrible, though they hadn’t seen most of it. They had fled into the jungle and stayed there until everyone else seemed to have left the cornucopia. She had believed it best to avoid fighting. As she had told Robb, every person in that arena was alive because they had killed. It was better to stay out of it.

Then they had survived, kept themselves away from others instead of hunting them down. Traps and other tributes slowly took out their opponents. They were ambushed by the pair from 11 one night, Catelyn had managed to kill the man with Ned’s help and her uncle did the same with the woman. Though not before she had already put her knife in Donella’s chest. Ned held his fellow mentor of so many years as she passed, and Catelyn felt his pain.

Not long after that they dared make their way towards the beach. They hadn’t walked straight to it, had walked along the circle to see if anyone was hiding just by the tree line. Howland had led them, he was most sure on his feet in the hard terrain. Then the monkeys had come. Howland’s screams as he was ripped apart had kept Catelyn from sleeping, that was two days earlier. It was worse for Ned, there was nothing behind his eyes anymore. He seemed empty.

When the Lannister twins attacked them they were taken by surprise. Howland’s death and the grief over it had left them unfocused. Her uncle had died, as had Jaime. Cersei had fled back into the jungle. Then she had died, somehow. Brynden had gone out the way he wanted to, protecting her, and he had seemed strong until the very end. Even in death it seemed that way, his weathered face speckled with blood and his hand clenched around a knife.

The sunset was beautiful, even as she knew that it signalled the end of her life. When darkness came she would end it, and so Ned would come out of there. They had sat there in silence ever since Cersei’s canon echoed through the arena, she was surprised the game makers hadn’t done anything about it. Sent something that would kill one of them, or declared they had a certain amount of time to kill the other before something would happen. But no, they let them sit in silence on the beach, hand in hand. Grieving those they had lost and their life with each other.

Maybe that was their prize for having played the role as the Capitol’s favourite victor couple. Maybe they were allowed that last time because people truly wanted them to have it. Though the Capitol’s patience wasn’t infinite, they would have to put an end to it soon.

“I didn’t think it would end this way” she said.

For some reason she had truly believed that after having won they would be left alone as long as they did what they were supposed to do. That they would grow old together, defying that victors often died quite young.

“It could have been worse” Ned said.

She looked at him, not understanding in the least. How could it possible have been worse? For days they had partaken in slaughter, they had watched people they loved be killed. They had heard canons, seen portraits in the sky. After 24 years of being husband and wife it would end because they were both forced into a death game with only one winner. She would die, her children would be without a mother. There was no worse fate than that.

“How?” she questioned. “How could it possibly have been worse?”

“At least I get to be with you before I die.”

The fiery sky was reflected in his eyes. There was acceptance there. Acceptance and determination. It seemed he hadn’t understood when she told him that if one of them lived it wouldn’t be her. That she had decided the moment the theme for the quarter quell was announced. If both of them were reaped and they ended up as the last two alive, he would be the survivor.

“You’re not going to die.”

Ned raised her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. Didn’t seem to mind that she was covered in blood and sand that she hadn’t bothered with washing off. Even after all the death there was softness, she admired him for it.

“You can’t deny it, Cat. I have to.”

“No, Ned. I told you before we even entered this arena that if it came down to it you’d live.”

“We’ve been together long enough for you to know that I’d never accept that.”

“Neither will I.”

If he died she wasn’t sure she would be to go on. How was she to return to a district that wasn’t hers from the beginning, a place she called her home because of him, and know that he had died for her? Love with the children he had given her, his aging mother and his two brothers. No, it was better if he was the one to go back.

“Brynden died for you” Ned said and his tone wasn’t very soft anymore. “Are you going to lay down your life so easily after that?”

His eyes weren’t particularly soft either. Obviously he had made peace with his own death so much that he didn’t want her to challenge it.

“He would have died–“

“No, Catelyn. His name wasn’t on that piece of paper, he volunteered to protect you in here. Don’t treat his sacrifice like it’s nothing, he was a better man than so.”

Was he going to tell her what to do with her life after her uncle was dead?

“You don’t have a say in what I do with that sacrifice!”

She pulled her hand away from his, turned her face to the side. Tears were rising in her eyes, she tried to blink them away. Somehow she had managed to keep herself from crying all the way up until that point. It just hadn’t seemed possible, all emotions had been stuck inside her. But then she couldn’t help herself.

Uncle Brynden was dead and it was due to her. She had stood silent and watched as his body was carried into the sky, the knife that had killed him still in his neck. Had she not been reaped he would have been alive. How she loved him and he was dead.

Ned laid an arm around her shoulders and pulled her two him. She rested her head on his shoulder, closed her eyes. The beauty of the sight was nothing, she didn’t want to see it anymore. There was nothing beautiful anymore. It hurt. She could feel the pain deep in her chest, she could barely breathe.

“Go back to the children” Ned whispered against her hair.

He didn’t seem to mind that she was dirty and sweaty.

“Not without you.”

It wouldn’t be a very bright life. It wouldn’t be a life at all. He had been by her side for more than half of her life, she couldn’t do it without him. She really couldn’t. There wasn’t any doubt in her mind about that. Her darling husband, her Ned.

“I can’t come with you, but you’ll be fine anyway. You’re strong. The strongest person in the world.”

“Not without you” she said again.

He was half of her, he carried her. She was nothing without him.

“You don’t have a choice.”

“9 is your district, your family is there. The children need you, you should be there for them.”

If there was something they needed it was their father’s guidance. In a world where everything was uncertain and all eyes were on them it was important to have something that could help them and protect them. He could do that better than she could.

“They don’t need me more than they need you” Ned told her. “What matters is that they’re alive. Robb didn’t have to do this, that’s what’s important now.”

She looked at him. Her husband of so many years. How had it come to that only one of them could come out if it alive? That they sat together on a beach in an arena and had to choose which one of them that would die.

Not that they would ever come to an agreement. She knew him, knew that he was stubborn to a fault. He wouldn’t bulge, but then neither would she. She had known it the moment she got to know that both of them would be in the games. She had long since made peace with what had to happen.

“I’m not afraid” he continued. “You don’t need to worry for me and you don’t need to feel guilt afterwards. I don’t blame you for this.”

As if that would not be the only thing she felt. As if they would not have to sedate her every night if she was to get any sleep at all. She didn’t want that. She wanted Ned and their children to live on.

She knew what had to be done. It was better to do it before she got afraid. Quick and clean, as little pain as possible. Even as she felt the weight on her chest, even as she couldn’t keep the tears from increasing, there was relief. She hadn’t truly made the decision until then.

“Truly?”

“Truly.”

Ned smiled. It was brief, barely there at all. His eyes were so kind, she loved his eyes. A shame she would never see them again. That the soft fog was the last thing she got to see wasn’t so bad. Maybe he was right, maybe it could have been worse.

When he cupped her face with his free hand she leaned into his touch.

“How?” she asked.

“You shouldn’t have to know that. I’ll go back into the jungle.”

“You don’t need to shield me, I’ve seen so much death already.”

She had watched the games as a child, seen the death. She had cheered for her favourites from her own district, hadn’t been very faced by the deaths of others. Then she had volunteered and for the first time met death directly. With her own hands she had killed. Now she had witnessed the death of her uncle, the very reason for why she entered the games in the first place. She had seen Donella and Howland and Jaime Lannister and the tributes from 11 and those that died in the bloodbath. But she would not let Ned die. He wouldn’t be one of those people, his death was far in the future. Instead she would be the one to join her uncle in death.

“I don’t want you to see me die.”

“I’m sorry for this, I really am” she said.

She had to say it, had to apologise.

“You don’t need–“

She reached up to kiss him. She tasted blood on his dry lips, how long had it been there for? She didn’t know. But she felt the softness of his kiss, the warmth from his body close to hers. Had it not been for that lingering taste of iron and the sand on their hands she almost would have believed they were home. Sitting on the stairs to their house, Ned’s victory house.

Her hand finds the knife at her hip easily, it’s like a reflex to wrap her fingers around the hilt. The training from her youth is still at the back of her mind, her muscles remember. With ease she unsheathed it, a movement so smooth her husband doesn’t notice.

Without breaking the kiss she raised the knife, hoping he would find it in himself to forgive her.

#catelyn stark #catelyn tully #ned stark #ned x cat #my drabble #nedcat hunger games au

10 notes · View notes

ila-appreciationweek · 1 year

Text

Requiem

Posting on behalf of JCR/Departer, who does not have a tumblr for ILAW Day 3, villains and monsters.

Word Count: 1761 Premise: Sometimes the scariest villains and monsters in your life are human, or even more complicated, your family. Lincoln, Imogen, Harper, and Parker discuss this after the memorial. A/N: For maximum angst, listen to this while you read.

I will sing no requiem tonight, Because when the villains fall, the kingdoms never weep

No one lights a candle to remember, No, no one mourns at all

When they lay them down to sleep, So don't tell me that I didn't have it right, Don't tell me that it wasn't black and white

After all you've put me through, don't say it wasn't true, That you were not the monster that I knew

Because I cannot play the grieving guy and lie, Saying that I miss you and that my world has gone dark, I will sing no requiem Tonight

Benj Pasek and Justin Paul, “Requiem”

“I don’t miss him.”

Lincoln stared into his bourbon after saying those words, feeling the truth of them sink into his bones. He lifted his head and looked at Imogene with her mojito, Harper with a fireball and cream soda, and Parker nursing a whiskey on the rocks.

They found themselves at a bar after the memorial, having paid tribute to those who lost their lives to the Power in Westchester and Pine Springs. Lincoln couldn’t help but feel envious of Imogene, Harper, and Parker, and how their core group had remained intact despite everything. He thought of Danni and Tom who took Elliot and Robbie home, of the trust they shared with Imogene, Harper, and Parker through it all. He pondered the lonely years Demelza spent being the sole survivor of her friend group until Noah had regained his humanity. His mind turned to Jocelyn, who died in that cave thinking everyone hated her, and how her death allowed him to be brought back.

Lincoln could never hate Jocelyn. She was not the first or the last person manipulated and swayed by Matthias. Lincoln himself had once thought he could have Matthias’ love and approval by being himself. He had learned the hard way – like everyone else did – that Matthias’ support came with a price too steep to name. He sipped his bourbon and wondered what it would’ve been like to have a father who cared.

“I know how you feel,” Imogene said. She set her drink down and stared at him. Her brown eyes looked solemn behind the round glasses that sat perched upon her slender nose. “I feel awful wanting to forget about my parents but separating myself from them was the only way I could move forward and actually be myself.”

Lincoln nodded in understanding. He and Imogene knew how it felt to inherit an unwanted legacy and the artifacts of a life lived in pursuit of selling one’s soul. Imogene once went through the process of giving away her late parents’ fortunes and material possessions and had supported Lincoln through the process. They had sent countless emails and text messages, and regularly talked on the phone about the process and finding the charities that would most benefit from the wealth Lincoln refused to keep.

“My parents hurt so many people,” Imogene said. “I lived with their high expectations and rigid standards just fine, but it was only a matter of time before they would’ve used the Power against me.”

Parker swished his drink around and agreed. “Abraham Kelley raised me as his own son after my parents checked out. He kept me from making bad choices and heading down a destructive path. But now that I know who he really was, it’s hard not to wonder: would he have dragged me into the Pine Springs cult? Forced the Power onto me? Used me as a conduit to hurt others?” Parker tilted his head back and downed the rest of his drink before slamming it down hard on the bar counter. “It’s hard coming to terms with that: knowing that the person who saved you was the reason for other people’s tragedies.”

Parker signaled the bartender for another refill while Harper’s blue eyes wandered. He set his drink aside and commented, “My grandmother – Josephine – was in pain for fifty years. She suffered due to other people’s selfishness: she never got to be in my mom’s life or know her as a person. It took so little to send her over the edge.” He looked down and said, “I did that to her. I told her my mom had died and she lost it.”

“Harper, no,” Imogene said. She put an arm around his shoulders and told him, “That was not your fault. Josephine was already so far gone. You couldn’t have done anything to keep the storm from coming.”

“Thanks, Genny,” Harper said. “I still get mad at her sometimes. I don’t blame her for being angry, self-destructing, and flying off the handle, but it’s hard not to wonder if there was another way. Arthur – my grandfather – should’ve listened to her. All the problems in Pine Springs started because of him. He didn’t take Josephine’s warnings seriously and thought he knew better.”

Parker took Harper’s hand in his and squeezed it. “Arthur paid for that with his life so you wouldn’t have to. I know he regretted hurting Josephine. He wouldn’t want you living with that guilt.” Parker kissed Harper’s cheek and looked at him in a way that made Lincoln wonder how it would feel to be loved like that.

Lincoln cleared his throat before finishing his bourbon and asking for another shot. “There were so many red flags with Matthias – Arthur – Abraham – The Wescotts. How did no one see? How could my mom be so blind?"

Imogene grimaced. "It's easy to have tunnel vision when you're not on the receiving end of that abuse. You saw through Matthias before your mom – or anyone – did. Harper was the first one who saw my parents for who they really were. I didn’t want to hear it.”

“I don’t blame you for that, Genny,” Harper commented. “No one wants to believe that the people they love are capable of doing the worst.”

“Love,” Imogene mused. She took a delicate sip of her mojito before setting it down again. “Sometimes it feels as though the love between family is more complicated than romantic love or that of friends. Then again, blood isn’t always thicker than water.”

“Too much of either can make you sick,” Lincoln said. “Noah got turned into a shadow monster and got his friends killed because he loved his twin sister too much. Jocelyn put blinders on when it came to Cody and was okay with him hurting people since he was her best friend, and she was never on the receiving end of his bullying. Matthias knew she was haunted by her past and used it to his advantage.” He pounded the remaining bourbon in his shot glass and banged it on the counter. “That bastard was going to kill Everest! He was going to murder our friend – then us – and all of Westchester by playing up our weaknesses! Goddamnit!”

Lincoln put his head in his hands. He wanted to forget Matthias McQuoid had ever existed at all.

He cried and felt hot, fat tears fall from his eyes and down his face. Lincoln hated himself for crying over the man who killed his mother, Jessica Williams, Loha, and all the innocent people sacrificed in the first blood moon ritual. He wanted to kick himself for shedding tears for the one responsible for disfiguring the carnival attendees, causing Douglas Redfield to lose his humanness, and not caring how many people the Power hurt in his wake.

He heard Imogene, Harper, and Parker stand from their barstools and felt their arms around him.

“You’re allowed to be mad,” Harper said. “You’re allowed to cry and to feel everything and nothing about Matthias. There’s no right or wrong way to grieve for – or not grieve for – someone.”

Lincoln wiped his eyes, swiveled around so he could see his friends, and admitted, “It’s not that I miss him. It’s more… I mourn the loss of the idea of him and the kind of father he could’ve – should’ve been but wasn’t. He wanted to mold me in his image. He only loved me when I was small, impressionable, and didn’t have any thoughts or opinions of my own. Matthias wanted nothing to do with me when I grew into myself and became my own person. He should’ve loved me regardless. He should’ve been there for me after my mom died… he should’ve been there no matter what.”

“Matthias didn’t know what he was missing,” Parker said. “He never deserved to have you for a son.”

“Thanks, Parker.” Lincoln gave a faint smile and added, “It’s horrible, but it’s a relief not having to carry him around anymore.” He retrieved his wallet from his back pocket and pulled out a folded-up piece of paper confirming his name change. “I’m Lincoln Aquino now.”

“Your own person,” Harper affirmed.

Imogene smiled at Lincoln and said, “You have a whole new life as Lincoln Aquino ahead of you. Think of all the things you want to do and go do them. Nothing’s stopping you.”

Parker grabbed his glass of whiskey and motioned for Harper, Imogene, and Lincoln to do the same with their own drinks. He raised his glass and said, “For Lincoln Aquino!”

“Lincoln Aquino!”

Lincoln and his friends clinked their glasses together and drank deeply before Imogene said, “For love and all the complexities it brings.”

Harper went next. “For recognizing that it’s okay to have complicated feelings about your own family. For knowing your limits and setting your own boundaries regarding grief. For missing the idea of someone rather than the actual person. For not being in mourning despite the world expecting it of you.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Lincoln grinned. He steadied himself and said, “For new beginnings. For change. For making your own way and being true to yourself while doing so.”

The four of them cheered, had a final drink, shared two pitchers of cold water between them, and called a cab to take them back to Demelza’s parents’ house where their cars were parked. She had given them her blessing to stay the night before Lincoln flew back home to Las Vegas the next morning; Imogene, Harper, and Parker would make the drive back to Pine Springs the next day.

Lincoln settled into the cab with his friends and sighed with content. He was grateful for the future in store for him, the chance to mold his life into whatever he wanted it to be, and the friends who would help him along the way. He knew that the only way to go from here was ahead.

#ilaw #it lives within #ilw #playchoices #lincoln mcquoid #imogen wescott #parker shaw #it lives beneath #ilb #lincoln aquino

7 notes · View notes

vaultboyenthusiast · 2 years

Text

OC MASTERLIST

god there’s so many of these dudes it’s actually ridiculous someone stop me they just keep popping up in my brain

for now until i finish making them all profiles like I did for Dusty, all you get is names. Sorry! I an definitely open for any questions about them though while I work on writing everything.

Dusty - 16 - Male [he/him] - Courier - Yes Man ending - Good karma

Marcus - 68 - Male [he/him] - Courier - Yes Man ending - Neutral karma - Raul

Louelle - 19 - Female [she/her] - Courier - NCR ending - Good karma

Sorren - 35 - Nonbinary [they/them] - Courier - Yes Man ending - Neutral Karma - Cass

X - ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ - Agender [they/them] - Courier - Yes Man ending - Neutral Karma - Benny

Nemo - 32 - Male [he/him] - Courier - Yes Man ending - Good Karma - Benny/Arcade

Enyo- 27 - Female [she/her] - Courier - Legion/independent ending - Very bad karma

Spotty (Icarus) - 19 - Male [he/him] - Lone - Neutral karma - Butch

Ophelia - 20 - Female [she/her] - Lone - Neutral Karma - Amata

Juliette - 26 - Female [she/her] - SoSu - Minutemen ending - Bad karma - Cait

Virgil - 15 - Nonbinary [they/them] - SoSu - Railroad ending - Good karma

Jack - 22 - Male [he/him] - SoSu - Minutemen ending - Good karma - Maccready

Donny - 15 - Demiboy [he/they] - SoSu - Minutemen ending - Neutral karma

Apollo - 36 - Male [he/him] - SoSu - Minutemen ending - Good karma - Nick

Orion - 32 - Agender [they/them] - SoSu - Railroad ending - Neutral karma - Deacon

Paz - 30 - Male [he/him] - SoSu - Railroad ending - Neutral karma - Danse/Travis

Katerina - 24 - Female [she/her] - SoSu - Railroad ending - Neutral karma - Ellie Perkins

Leo - 15 - Male [he/him] - SoSu - Minutemen ending - Good karma

#god there’s so many. help.#that’s 24 in total at this point someone just shoot me dear god #that’s too many. please send help.#I think the reason I have so many sole survivors is that took one look at the overly constructive background it gives you #and immediately took it as a fucking challenge.#so every one of them is an experiment to see how much I can fuck around without the plot becoming completely incohesive.#my current answer is “a whole fucking lot actually bethesda is just stupid”#but yknow. that’s not really new information is it.#anyway if you followed me from the smell post just to see this hot fuckin mess I’m sorry but you have no idea what you’re getting into #I have maladaptive daydreaming disorder and a massive hyperfixation and I will do whatever the fuck I want with those two things actually #also my attatchment to the yes man ending is so obvious sorry. i see funky robot man #and I go join funky robot man.#he has too much swag for me to resist. I know he’s a robot but he is AGGRESSIVELY transmasc yknow.#really hope you guys are reading the tags because I’m being funny down here

2 notes · View notes

guardianspirits13 · 4 years

Text

I wanna talk about Natsuo Todoroki for a second here.

tw// mentions of abuse, self harm, and suicide

Natsuo visibly has the most emotional trauma out of anyone else in his family (Touya not included), and I really wanna talk about why that is.

For starters, we haven't seen him really smile since he was introduced in chapter 187. He's introduced as having a friendly, easygoing persona and it's easy to imagine this is how most people outside of his family know him. However, every time we see him appear since then, another layer of his trauma is revealed and expanded upon, and it cuts DEEP.

I think the main reason that Natsuo still seems so vulnerable compared to the rest of his family is different than what you'd assume. Fuyumi and Shouto both spend a lot of time around Endeavor, and have been in close proximity to his (relatively recent) decision to atone. They have seen his growth firsthand and come to terms with it. Rei has obviously taken a very different path to healing- not entirely voluntarily- but she has been working with doctors and therapists for years to change and recover and reconnect with herself and her children. Natsuo is off at college, and takes every opportunity he can to avoid Endeavor. He (understandably) wants nothing to do with him, and shows stagnant resistance to his attempts to atone.

The reason why Natsuo can't move on from the past is because his trauma didn't come from Endeavor. It came from Touya.

Now initially we were led to believe that it was simply Touya's untimely death that still bothers Natsuo, and it makes sense seeing how Endeavor drove him to the edge. Losing his best friend and brother as a young kid without parents to support him or any therapist to speak of can absolutely been the source of persistent emotional damage, but the more and more we learn about Touya's situation, the more evident it becomes that Natsuo's trauma is much much deeper than even grief.

Touya, as we know, was driven by an ambition instilled in him by his father and experienced extreme rejection sensitivity when those ambitions were no longer realistic. Touya's relationship with his parents could be described as insecure attachment, a psychological term primarily regarding how kids react and respond to their parents and other close relationships. As he was raised, Touya learned to equate his potential to be a hero with his personal worth and similarly confounded attention with love. The difference being, of course, that love is unconditional, but even attention was being continually directed away from him as a punishment for continuing to train and burn himself so he could once again become worthy in his fathers' eyes.

This is where Natsuo comes in. At first it was assumed that all of the Todoroki children were born out of Endeavor's strong-willed desire to have a child that could surpass All Might, but we learned that this isn't exactly the case. I'd argue that it was narratively poetic on Horikoshi's part once this was expanded upon. Fuyumi was born to support and encourage her brother, and that is the exact role she plays 23 years later, keeping her family together.

Natsuo's case is even more intersting.

It was bad enough if Natsuo was only born for the potential of his quirk, but it's even more sinister that the sole intent behind his birth was to discourage Touya from his ambitions. I'd say it was to replace him, but it was more to promote the idea that Touya was expendable than to raise aonther kid with the same ideals but the potential to actually achieve it, although that was definitely a secondary motivation.

The parallelism in this is how much Natsuo's life revolves around Touya. He was born because of Touya, he looked up to and took care of Touya as a kid, and the absence of Touya in the present continues to drive him and his decisions in life (but more on that later).

I continue to pray that we will eventually get more solid backstory on Natsuo and Touya's relationship as kids and where it cut off, wether on a bad note or not, but there are a few things we know for certain. One, Touya was mentally ill. Yes, he was rejected by his parents but he seems to have been particularly vulnerable to this compared to any of his siblings since he was the first of them and thus relied only on his parents for validation in his early years. He shows early signs of a variety of different mental disorders, particularly BPD, which I have previously written a whole analysis for on its own. Touya is shown self-harming both by the very nature of his quirk and even by very directly ripping his hair out. He was incredibly self-destructive.

This is why it is so much more concerning to me that Natsuo, who was AT LEAST four years younger than him, was his primary source of comfort. Natsuo was too young to have known anything more than 'my big brother is sad that daddy won't train him anymore' and he obviously wasn't equipped in any way to handle Touya's severe mental illness. Touya most definitely needed professional treaatment as his forms of coping were abnormal even for the neglect and rejection that he experienced. Natsuo comforted Touya through breakdown after breakdown, and more than that Touya relied on him and came to him voluntarily for support. Natsuo was the best option he had, and he took full advantage of that. The main source of Natsuo's trauma was Touya's reliance on him.

Not to say at all that this was in any way Touya's fault- he was mentally ill and desperately in need of some form of comfort to keep him sane; it was almost a survival method at this point since neither of his parents really acknowleged him at all anymore. Touya's instability hurt Natsuo more than parental neglect ever did, but it was the neglect that enabled it and striped Touya of the supportive atmosphere he would have needed at this point not only to prevent but to heal from the mental damage he had already suffered.

Natsuo dealt with this for years and you can see how much it hurt him to see Touya in so much pain, not only from Endeavor's rejection but from his own self harm as well. For Natuso to know that his brotherly love would never be the same as having loving parents; would neve be enough- but at least it was something so he continued to love and care about his brother for little in return- is indicative of the kind of character he is.

(Edit: After the events of chapter 302 we know that Natsuo's relationship with Touya wasn't perfect. I will elaborate more on this in a different post, but I just wanted to clarify that although we were shown a very high-tension scene between them, it is implied that this was a regular occurrence that Natsuo was usually more receptive too but tired out of, in addition to Touya's spiraling mental health. It fit with the natrative to show the tension Touya was feeling with his family from all directions, but Natsu and Touya clearly had a stronger relationship up to and before this point, evidenced by their sharing a room and playing together regularly.)

He is incredibly selfless, and it's interesting to note how many of his positive qualities as an adult stem from negative experiences as a kid. He never really felt love from his parents, so he relied on Touya (and likely also Fuyumi) for that as well. If he grew up learning he had to give love in order to recieve it back, it absolutely influenced who he became in the future, a solid example of this being the responsibility he feels to reach out and have a relationship with Shouto and further regrets that he wasn't able to help his abuse in the past either. Another aspect of his character that intruigues me is how gentle he is. Personality-wise he seems about as opposite as he could be from the awkward, stoic, emotionally-stunted person that is Endeavor.

There are a couple of reasons for this, beyond what I've already discussed.

One, he had little to no contact with elements of toxic masculinity growing up, especially not from Endeavor.

Two, most of the influence he did have growing up was from Fuyumi, who is established to have endlessly cared for him since he was a literal baby.

Three, he grew up in a household where almost everyone around him was in much more literal, immediate pain than he was so he developed a very strong sense of empathy that might also have been tied to early survivor's guilt.

Now I have one important distinction to make, and that's the temptation to label him as a 'softboy' or something of the like after seeing him caring for his family and more pointedly, watching him break down in tears during chapter 252. While there is absolutely nothing wrong with men being soft or vulnerable (on the contrary it's actually so so important and relevant that Hori is writing characters like this in a mainstream shounen manga but that's an essay for another time), it is unfair to label him as such based on a moment when his trauma is being exposed.

Because his truama stems from such a young age, there is a blurry line between just being born with more emotional intelligence and the situation he was in fostering those traits. You know, the classic nature/nurture thing. My point being, it's important to tread carefully when discussing the nature of his personality to avoid invalidating his trauma; I have no doubt that he is very strong for having survived these things, and the moments we see of him onscreen are definitely among his most vulnerable.

Another thing that people less familiar with Natsuo's character might assume is that he is hot-headed and argumentative. I thought that at first too- after all, he doesn't seem to shy away from yelling at Endeavor when given the opportunity. However, this doesn't seem to be the case at all.

The first real scene we see him in with Endeavor, the man walks into the room and Natsuo decides he can't handle it and goes to leave. However, Endeavor happens to be blocking the doorway. Endeavor physically stops him and provokes him to his face, asking him to say whatever is on him mind. While Natsuo is notably not confrontational, Endeavor is. I think it's fair to say that he felt at least uneasy at this gesture. Natsuo is very honest with his feelings, and it's obvious that he's pissed at the audacity of Endeavor to be so oblivious to his own son. This is presumably one of the first real interactions they've ever really had, and at this point Natsuo has been dealing with trauma (caused by Endeavor!) on his own for years, and Endeavor seems completely oblivious to his pain and dismmisive to the rest of the family's as well.

Again during the internship arc Natsuo tries to get along with Endeavor and this time he actually gives it a fleeting chance. Tensions are high, however, and the conversation very quickly becomes uncomfortable, at which point he leaves. It is continually implied that Natsuo is uncomfortable being around Endeavor because his very presence brings up painful thoughts and memories of a time when sharing the same space as him was a warning to run and hide. This is later directly confirmed by Natsuo as he says that every time he looks at Endeavor's face he remembers Touya and the pain he was in.

I feel like an important side note is that we have never seen Natsuo outside the context of his family, which is understandable, as the role he plays in the story directly relates to them. However, if you take a look at Shouto, even though his experiences have shaped him to become who he is, he definitely acts differently when Endeavor's not in the vicinity.

Back to Touya's death, it would be very rare that someone would mourn a death for an entire decade without finding closure unless there are other factors preventing it, and uncomfortably this seems to be the same thing for both Natsuo and Endeavor: guilt.

This is getting incredibly long already, but it's important to note that Natsuo probably felt an incredible responsibility to take care of Touya and protect him because of his empathetic nature. His love was never going to be the same as having loving parents. His encouragement was never going to be the same as having support from Endeavor. Even further than then neglect and abandonement, it was not being able to save Touya that really made Natsuo feel worthless.

He seems to try and remedy this inability to save Touya and diminish his guilt by doing everything he can to be better. He reaches out to Shouto to be a better brother, he consistently pushes his limits to entertain Fuyumi's notion of a happy family, and he's working hard towards a degree rhat will allow him to help people like Touya (and Rei) because he failed to do so in the past.

His bio mildly implies that he didn't have much of a direction he was heading in after high school, but Fuyumi's encouragement led him to seek out his current college career. This goes back to Natsuo's 'purpose' in a sense revolving arount Touya, from his birth to his relationship with him to his death, after which he lost his direction. They were always rather inseperable, so naturally their seperation hit Natsuo hard. He lost his direction in life so when Fuyumi encouraged him to rediscover it, he thought of helping people, because that's ultimately what he was born to do.

Thank you so, so much for reading this if you made it to the end! I clearly have a lot of thoughts on this. Let me know what you think about it as well, and hopefully we'll get more info on this soon in the manga :)

#bnha 203 #bnha spoilers #long post #natsuo todoroki #todoroki natsuo #bnha meta #mymeta #todoroki touya

468 notes · View notes

yourdeepestfathoms · 3 years

Text

a little unconventional (part one)

[foster au]

this is set in America because i don't know how Romania works

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

rapture rising

“Alcina, my beloved sister, are you sure all of this is necessary?”

Alcina shot a glare over her shoulder at her toddling younger brother, who she was making carry in several boxes full of various items into one of the many rooms in her mansion. This one wasn’t one of the bedrooms, but rather a temporary storage room for all the things she had recently bought. She was going to have everything set up for the children to choose from when they eventually arrived. Just thinking about them getting to pick out their bedsheets and paint for their new rooms made a smile come to her lips, excitement rushing through her like dozens of butterflies flying for the first time.

…And then her idiot brother bumped into the doorframe and caused an avalanche of boxes to come down on top of him.

“Be careful!” Alcina barked, whirling around to him. She bent down to start picking the boxes up. “You’re lucky there was nothing fragile in here.”

“I’m fine, thanks for asking,” Heisenberg grunted, rubbing his head.

“And to answer your questions, dearest brother, yes, this is all very necessary,” Alcina said. “I need this to be perfect for them. This may be the first time those little girls get a real home.”

“Inflating your ego, aren’t you?”

Alcina stepped on his foot.

“I have the paints.” Moreau, Alcina’s other brother, shuffled inside, holding several cans of paint on his arms. If they were hurting him, he didn’t say anything. He seemed pleased with himself for being so useful.

“Thank you, Sal,” Alcina said. She took the cans from him and placed them against the wall. “Yellow, green, red, blue, pink, purple… Do you think that’s enough? What if they want, like, a mauve room?”

“Mauve?” Heisenberg echoed as he was crow hopping on one foot, still recovering from being stomped on.

“It’s a shade of purple,” Moreau supplied.

“I know what mauve is, asshole,” Heisenberg hissed. “I was just saying.”

“And I’m just saying, what if they want a lighter-colored room?” Alcina said. “This purple is dark. Should I go buy more?”

“You could mix white into the paint?” Moreau suggested.

Alcina thought it over, then nodded. “Yes, I could do that. Good idea.”

“Who wants a mauve bedroom, anyway?” Heisenberg muttered.

“Alcina!” A fourth voice echoed throughout the house, and Alcina’s sister entered the room. Donna looked uncharacteristically bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. She was clutching something in her hands. “Alcina, I have finished them!”

“When did you get here?” Heisenberg looked at her.

“Just now,” Donna said. “It doesn’t matter. Look!”

A beautiful doll was presented to Alcina. It was hand-stitched and dressed with great care. All the little details, down to the freckles and shiny eyes, were incredibly-made, and Alcina couldn’t help but pick it up tentatively, as though she were afraid of accidentally destroying it.

“Oh, Donna,” she said. “It’s beautiful! Thank you.”

Donna beamed. “I have also made stuffed animals and toy clothes for them. An entire wardrobe, in fact. Many selections.”

“Damn,” Heisenberg looked impressed. “Toys dress better than I do.”

“We know,” the other three said in sync, eyeing his ratty trenchcoat and old cowboy hat that he insisted on wearing everywhere.

“You weren’t supposed to agree!” Heisenberg barked like one of his dogs.

“Shouldn’t have said anything,” Alcina shrugged daintily. She looked back at Donna and smiled. “Thank you, Donna. I really appreciate your support. I appreciate all of your support. Even yours, Karl.”

“Sure, sure…” Heisenberg said, though Alcina didn’t miss the glint of fondness in his eyes.

“This is so exciting,” Donna said. “It’s a wonderful thing you’re doing, Alcina. Do you remember when we were all adopted by Mother?”

Heisenberg snorted. “I remember being kidnapped as a child and held for ransom, and then being one of the abduction victims to be actually found alive, only to discover that my parents had been killed while trying to get me back, to which I was then thrown into a home with you three.”

Donna winced. “Not…quite what I had in mind.”

“And you say ‘you three’ like we weren’t your best friends growing up,” Moreau pointed out idly, not looking at Heisenberg as he was helping unload some of the boxes. That one in particular held a wide selection of different bed sheets, ranging from leopard print to floral to plain blue.

Heisenberg raised his nose and huffed. “Well. Still.”

Alcina shook her head with a warm smile.

She vividly remembered life with her adoptive mother, Miranda, and her three other siblings. She was reborn from ash and flame after her old family estate burned down to the ground, smoldering the life she used to have and taking her parents with it. Yes, she could still smell the smoke, taste the embers on her tongue, even now, thirty-five years later. She was so small back then, only nine years old when the fire started, and she watched her home crumble to pieces right before her teary eyes. She thought it was over, that she had nothing, that she was going to be alone forever without her mother and father, but then a woman in a black cowl whisked her up into tender arms and took her under her wing as though she were the chicken to a nurturing mother bird.

She was the first of Miranda’s ragtag rascal children with harsh upbringings. For two years, it was just the both of them, reading books and watching movies in a beautiful countryside manor that quickly became her new home. Though the wounds had still been raw, the burns were very fresh, Miranda filled the void in her heart that her parents’ death left behind, extinguishing that eternal fire of survivor guilt and mourning.

And then the others came along.

At the time, Alcina had been rather indignant at the idea of having siblings. She was an only child with her birth family and she preferred to stay an only child with her new one, too, but she never voiced this opinion to Miranda. She grinned and bore it, even if it meant losing the attention of her mother.

Though, they didn’t end up being that bad…

The first of the “intruders” as she used to call them was Salvatore Moreau, a boy her age, though three months younger, and with a story similar to her own. He had been in a car crash after his drunken father got into a pretty nasty collision. The engine caught fire and it wasn’t long until the rest of the car followed. Moreau was trapped in the inferno, but managed to get out, running towards a nearby lake to extinguish the flames that were trying to make him its newest pyre. Unfortunately, the event left him badly burned, the scar still lingering all these years later, and nobody wanted to take in such a “disfigured child.” Miranda, however, stepped up to the challenge and fostered the boy, eventually adopting him fully later on.

Alcina was, admittedly, rather uneased by her new brother’s appearance at first, but she quickly got accustomed to him, even protective. There were several moments in school where she verbally (and sometimes even physically) pummeled any kids who dared to make fun of him, drilling into the bullies that he was not to be messed with while she was around. Some of her best retributions were when she threatened to leak unwarranted dick pics to the entire school, as it wasn’t uncommon for horny teenage boys to try to get into her pants, and that always shut them up quickly, especially when she loudly proclaimed details on their pathetic excuse for a penis, like the size and shape.

She and Moreau grew close rather quickly, much quicker than Miranda had been expecting. They both enjoyed more mellow things, like reading books and going on walks through the forest. Moreau was the sole reason she passed any English assignments done on Shakespearean literature, as he actually knew how to discern the confusing text, while she had to reread the same page over and over again to simply get a loose grasp on the grammar. He enjoyed cheesy romcoms, birdwatching, and swimming, the last of which he had a strong affinity for because of how the lake beside the car wreck very well could have been the only reason he survived. Now, he owned that very lake and made it into a popular fishing and boating destination for locals and tourists alike.

The second to arrive was Donna Beneviento, when Alcina and Moreau were both twelve. She was a full five years younger than the two of them and didn’t talk very often, at least for a good chunk of the first year she was there. She was put into the foster program after her parents commit suicide, leaving her with nothing but anxiety, trauma-induced selective muteness, and a doll named Angie.

It took time, but Donna eventually started opening up. First to Miranda, and then to Alcina and Moreau. Alcina strongly remembered a time when her little sister came to her room during a thunderstorm, lips quivering, tears glistening in her eyes, Angie clutched in a vice from her thin arms. She didn’t say anything, just stared from the doorway, whimpering and shivering.

“Alright,” Alcina had sighed. She flipped open her comforter, welcoming Donna. “Come on.”

Donna had brightened and skittered into the bed, snuggling right up against Alcina’s side. Alcina didn’t mind and resumed the book she had been reading before--Animal Farm, she believed. Donna pointed at the pages and then looked up at her curiously.

“Oh, this?” Alcina had said. “It’s called Animal Farm. It’s about these talking farm animals overthrowing their farmer to gain freedom, only to then be ruled by a communist pig.”

Donna blinked. “What’s a communist?”

“Well, you see…”

Her late-night explanation was certainly aided by the fact that they were in the middle of the Cold War at the time.

Overtime, Donna slowly grew out of her shell. Though she was still soft-spoken and reserved, she was also very kind-hearted and incredibly creative, which she showed through paintings, arts and crafts, and doll making. She would make dolls out of anything she could find--wood, thread, clay--so it made sense when she eventually became a toymaker once she grew up.

Finally, there was Karl Heisenberg when Alcina and Moreau were thirteen and Donna was eight. Right from the start, he was a loud, spitfire ten-year-old that broke the serene silence that used to hang over Miranda’s estate. He caused a great amount of mischief and mayhem, though Alcina would later discover it was to hide the fact that he was deeply traumatized by what exactly had happened to make him a foster child.

Even now, so many years later, Alcina still didn’t know the full story. Miranda said it wasn’t her tale to share and Heisenberg simply didn’t like talking about it very much. But from what she did know, Heisenberg used to belong to an incredibly wealthy business owner that ruled over their company with an iron fist. Due to the harshness his parents inflicted on their employees, it caused the workers to revolt against the abuse. A certain group took this way too far and kidnapped Heisenberg, holding him for ransom so they could get better treatment and pay at their work. Something ended up happening during the time between Heisenberg being held hostage and his parents paying up, and it left his mother and father in a way that he could never bring himself to explain. She only got snippets of the brutality of their deaths through brief moments when he would come to after vicious nightmares, one of which she actually stepped in to stop when she heard him struggling one night.

“Their heads, Alci,” Heisenberg had gasped, clawing manically for a desperate grasp on her arms, his body jerking and spasming in terror as his nightmare was still releasing his small, twelve-year-old body. “Their heads-- their brains were--” And then he stopped and keeled into her chest, sobbing in a way Alcina had never seen him do before in the two years he was living with her before that moment. Despite her occasional vex towards the boy, he was still her little brother and she was still his big sister, so she had wrapped her arms around him and held him close while he trembled and cried.

She never did find out what Heisenberg meant by “their heads,” but she had a hunch. Still, she never asked.

Nowadays, Heisenberg ran his own factory, where he treated his employees the way his parents should have treated theirs, learning from their mistakes. He also fostered all different kinds of dog breeds until they found their forever homes and rescued the more ‘vicious’ ones, like pit bulls and rottweilers, all of which he treated like royalty.

A freakishly tall girl, a burned boy, a selective mute, and a dog lover… They certainly weren’t the epitome of the stereotypical nuclear family, but they were family through and through, if not by blood, then by bloodshed.

“Do you guys remember the time Karl tried to clean the dishwasher with Kool-Aid?” Donna reminisced with a giggle.

“You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?” Heisenberg said.

“Absolutely not,” Donna grinned at him.

“I still don’t know how you came to the conclusion that that would work,” Alcina shook her head.

Heisenberg threw his arms up into the air. “John said it did!”

“John also tried to steal a school urinal.”

“Also, you’re supposed to take all of the dishes out before you try to clean it with Kool-Aid,” Moreau spoke up. “You left all of the pots and plates and silverware in it.”

“And he didn’t even put it in the right spot!” Alcina joined, cackling. “You’re supposed to put the powder in the detergent dispenser. Karl, you just poured it out all over the dishes!”

“It wasn’t even the right powder,” Donna put in. “You’re supposed to strictly use unsweetened lemonade only. You used tropical punch!”

Alcina, Donna, and Moreau all burst into laughter, while Heisenberg crossed his arms and glared at them.

“John never specified any of that!” he blustered.

“Never trust John, dear,” Alcina tittered.

“Well, it happened!” Heisenberg said. “It’s over! What other boxes do you need to move!”

More laughter.

“I’m serious! I’ll get the boxes! Also WHAT IS THAT.”

They all turned to see a patchy tortoiseshell cat lazily strolling into the room with them. It looked like it had been run over, dismembered, run over again, and then put back together by a blind surgeon, but it held itself like it was the most pristine lion to ever walk the earth. It glanced over at the four siblings, meowed at them, then continued on its stroll to one of the empty boxes, which it jumped into and made itself comfortable inside.

“It’s a cat,” Donna said as if it should have been obvious, earning a snort from Moreau and then a glare from Heisenberg.

“It’s not funny,” Moreau said quickly after Heisenberg glared at him, too, but it was obvious Heisenberg’s leer was all in good fun.

“No, no. Tom from Tom and Jerry is a cat,” Heisenberg said. “THAT is an overgrown street rat.”

“Well, one could assume the same about you, but you don’t see us pointing it out,” Donna said breezily.

Another bout of laughter, this time with Heisenberg included.

“Okay, okay, you got me there,” Heisenberg said.

“Must you insist on reacting the same way every single time you see Tea Cake?” Alcina finally spoke up through the playful bickering. She crouched down next to the cat and stroked its back, which caused it to purr in content.

“It’s my trademark,” Heisenberg said with a shrug. “That old woman is still alive?”

“And kicking,” Alcina smiled fondly at her pet.

Tea Cake had been with her for a long fourteen years, witnessing more than a few existential crises and drunken concerts put on to chase off her lurking PTSD. That cat came during the worst part of her life, and Alcina owed everything to that little beast. She learned how to laugh and smile and genuinely feel again, not hide behind the facade that she was a strong, powerful woman who could take on everything and come out without a scratch.

And, yes, Alcina had known- still knew, that she had Miranda and her siblings, but sometimes they were not enough, not back then, not when she was filled with so much shame and self-hatred and disgust. Animals were different in a way people couldn’t be. Animals didn’t lie, they didn’t judge or think about how messed up you were in their heads. They didn’t share your secrets or give you false hope. They just--be there. They listened and lent their presence and, sometimes, that was all that was needed, and some people didn’t seem to understand that.

Tea Cake’s fur had dried more of Alcina’s tears than anyone else ever had because she never let them fall in front of others. Tea Cake didn’t get upset when Alcina touched her; she didn’t understand the concept of emotional trauma and sexual harassment and body image issues. She just cared, even if she didn’t quite get it.

Alcina would probably be dead if it weren’t for her.

Yes, she remembered that fateful night… The wind in her shaggy hair she hadn’t washed in days, the moonglow on her ashen skin, the tears burning in her eyes--all of it was so clear, even now. She remembered how horribly, hopelessly depressed she had been and how she drove out to a field with a note on the dashboard and a gun in the passenger seat.

At the time, nothing had helped her. Her antidepressants weren’t working, going out only made her feel unsafe, and her family’s presence no longer brought her comfort and happiness, rather guilt and shame. The only thing that ever helped was when she drowned herself in the alcohol she made for a living, drinking away her despair and trauma until her body tingled and the phantom hands went away. She was surprised her liver never exploded inside of her during those awful few months.

She had sat in her car for a while, leaning her head on the steering wheel and wallowing in silence and darkness. Then, she got out, made sure the note was visible, and grabbed the gun.

She considered calling or texting her mother and siblings, but that would make it hurt worse. It was better to leave them with their last memories of her than to have this sudden news of a goodbye that they wouldn’t be able to stop.

She placed the pistol’s barrel in her mouth and rested her finger on the trigger. Her life didn’t flash before her eyes like some movies or books say it did, and she was quite thankful for it. She didn’t want to relive the agony she had been put through that led her up to that point. She just shut her eyes as tight as possible in preparation for the bullet to pass through her brain…

Then, there was a rustling from the grass nearby.

Alcina hesitated. The metallic taste of the gun left her tongue and she looked in the direction of the noise.

“Hello?” she had called out in her best possible not-about-to-kill-herself voice.

A tiny meow answered her.

“Your roadkill wants you,” Heisenberg’s voice cut through the daze that had momentarily descended upon Alcina’s mind.

Blinking, Alcina realized that Tea Cake was gnawing on her finger and meowing. She smiled.

“It’s probably dinner time,” Alcina said. She stood up straight. “Come on, children. I have news to share.”

Curious, her three younger siblings followed her out of the room and to her kitchen, Tea Cake padding after them eagerly. Her house was a beautiful creation of the finest wood and the most luxurious stonework. Top-of-the-line appliances filled the space and every little detail, down to the hanging droplets on the chandelier and the grooves in the staircase railing, were customized to her preference. 6 bedrooms, 9 bathrooms, 17,182 square feet, 14.99 acres filled by lush vineyards, and $5,500,000 later, and you had the Dimitrescu Estate.

And it was a barren prison.

It had always been there, ever since she moved in: that lingering loneliness that seemed to shroud every hallway. She had so much space, but nobody to fill it. Nobody except herself, Tea Cake, and her maids, of course. Lying awake one night, thinking about this issue as she often did, a solution had finally come to her.

After pouring some wet food into Tea Cake’s food bowl, Alcina grabbed a bottle of sweet butter wine out of her wine fridge and poured a glass for herself and each of her siblings, all of which were staring at her curiously. After taking a long sip, she finally began: “As you all know, I have plans to foster a child. And I greatly appreciate all of the support you three have provided me up until now.”

“Is this an award ceremony or something?” Heisenberg joked light-heartedly. “Can I have the award for most boxes carried? I think I deserve that one.”

“You mean most boxes dropped?” Donna giggled, earning her a playful poke in the side.

“No, it is not an award ceremony,” Alcina glared at Heisenberg without any fire in her gaze. She opened up a drawer in the stainless kitchen island they were gathered around. “Though, this may very well be an award…” She pulled out a blue folder packed full of papers and set it on the marble countertop, grinning brightly. “I just wanted to let you all know first that my training is done. I’ve completed all the classes.” Her heart swelled in her heart as she spoke her next words: “I’m a foster mom now.”

All at once, her younger siblings lit up brighter than the sun’s supernova, throwing their arms up into the air and letting out a celebratory shout. Donna and Moreau even raced around the island to hug Alcina, which she returned with a laugh.

“Oh, that’s so wonderful, Alcina!” Donna said, squeezing her with surprising strength. “I’m so happy for you!”

“Me too,” Moreau agreed.

“Sal, are you crying?”

“No!” Moreau yelped, then sniffled. “I just have something in my eye, that’s all.”

“You mean tears?” Heisenberg teased. He then looked at Alcina. “That’s amazing, Alcina. I’m really happy for you. You deserve this.”

“Aww,” Alcina crooned. “Is my little brother going soft?”

Heisenberg instantly steeled himself. “Me? No way! I was just saying what you would want to hear.”

Still being embraced on either side by her other brother and sister, Alcina chuckled. “I see.”

“Do you know your placement yet?” Donna asked, looking up at Alcina as though she were a child again.

“Placements,” Alcina corrected. She couldn’t help but grin again as she spoke of her future children. “Two. I’m getting two little girls.”

“Aww!” Donna and Moreau both cooed.

Heisenberg was nodding. “Girls. Yes. I can do girls.” He looked up at Alcina. “I’m getting them a puppy.”

“Oh, you don’t have--”

“I’m getting them a puppy,” Heisenberg said again, and it was clear he wasn’t taking no for an answer.

Alcina chuckled. “Alright. A puppy it is.”

Donna and Moreau began to join in on plans for being the greatest aunt and uncle, with Moreau saying that they needed to come to his lake for a swim and Donna listing off all the toys she would make for them. Alcina listened to them with a fond smile, happy to have such a supportive family. This was exactly what her daughters were going to need.

Daughters.

Just thinking about that word made her heart flutter in her chest. Her grin turned giddy. She was going to be a mother soon.

As she sipped from her wine glass, she thought about her placements. She had gotten the call four days ago and was scheduled to meet the little ones in the next two weeks. She could still hear her caseworker’s words in her ears during the conversation as she recalled it to her siblings.

“The first is named Daniela,” Duke had said. He was a studious, patient man with a warm smile and hands like chipmunk paws, keen on helping Alcina ever since she started her training to become a foster parent six months ago. “She’s a little girl and eleven years old. Her parents have, unfortunately, recently died due to a car crash. Her living relatives are unfit to take care of her, so she’s been placed into the foster system. Right now, she’s staying with her aunt and uncle, but she cannot be kept there much longer because of, ah…jealousy issues with their actual child.

The second is named Cassandra. Another girl, this one twelve years old. She’s been in the foster program ever since she was a baby when she was given up, as she was born from a teenager who couldn’t take care of her. She’s had…quite a few foster homes, all of which had given her up to someone else due to…issues. I understand if you don’t want to take this child. She’s been known to cause problems in her houses and pick fights. There is-- woo, that’s a lot of complaints… There are some notes on her left by her former families and-- Goddamn. They’re writing of her like she’s a monster or something…”

“Of course, I couldn’t turn down either of them,” Alcina concluded her retelling. “Especially the second one. Cassandra. The poor thing sounds like she needs a good home.”

“You’re so sweet, Alci,” Donna said, smiling at her.

“Think you can handle it?” Heisenberg asked. “I’m not doubting your abilities, but from what you said about the kid… Well, she just sounds difficult.”

“You were difficult,” Alcina said, grinning at him. “And everything turned out just fine, didn’t it?”

Her youngest brother’s concern didn’t diminish. “Yes, but… I don’t want anything to happen to you or my niece.”

Alcina, Donna, and Moreau all cooed. Heisenberg huffed.

“Oh, shut it! I have a heart!”

“You do,” Alcina’s smile lightened slightly. “But don’t worry: everything will be okay. I can do this. I need to do this. Those two little girls need a mother.”

Heisenberg considered her for a moment, then nodded. He smiled at her. “You’ve got a good heart, Alcina,” he said. “If you ever need any help, I’m here.”

“Me too!” Donna joined in.

“Me three!” Moreau piped up.

Alcina laughed. “Thank you. Really. This means a lot to me. Now…” She raised her glass. “Let’s drink before we have to cut back because there will be children around!”

Her siblings laughed and mimicked her gesture.

Alcina couldn’t wait.

#foster au #resident evil au #resident evil fanfic #resident evil 8 #resident evil village #alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu #karl heisenberg #donna beneviento #salvatore moreau #mother miranda #dimitrescu daughters #a little unconventional

184 notes · View notes

thinkingisadangerouspastime · 3 years

Note

(pt 1) i really enjoy all your atla analyses & you've done a great job breaking down the usual arguments re how eip shows that kataang shouldn't have happened. i'm curious about your take on one specific argument that i just saw today, in an analysis of the show by a zker that was otherwise quite good and respectful (i know you've already talked about eip a lot, so no problem if you don't feel like rehashing). the premise: aang didn't just pressure katara in eip, he threatened her.

(pt 2) they point to when katara joins aang & asks if he’s alright: “aang: no, i’m not! i hate this play! katara: i know it’s upsetting, but it sounds like you’re overreacting. aang: overreacting? if i hadn’t blocked my chakra, i’d probably be in the avatar state right now!” the suggestion is he’s threatening her when he says ‘i’d probably be in the avatar state right now’ to describe his anger. i think this take exaggerates and oversimplifies it, but interested in your thoughts on it.

Hello my friend!! It is true I am Old inside and don’t like rehashing dhdlksjslks BUT your comments on my posts are always incredibly kind and insightful so I am more than willing to do a bit of rehashing for you 🥰 Besides! I’ve seen this general take before a few times and it’s always irked me for the exact reason you point out - it simultaneously exaggerates and oversimplifies the situation (and honestly that’s an impressive duality since it’s seemingly contradictory, so hats off to them lmaooo) - and now is as good a time as any to address it. So, for starters, let’s go ahead and get the excerpt they love to focus on so much:

Cut to Aang standing alone on a balcony. Katara enters and walks up to him.

Katara: Are you all right?

Aang: [Angered.] No, I’m not! I hate this play! [Yanks his hat off and throws it on the ground.]

Katara: I know it’s upsetting, but it sounds like you’re overreacting.

Aang: Overreacting? If I hadn’t blocked my chakra, I’d probably be in the Avatar State right now!

Here’s the thing about so-called analyses of this excerpt: in a manner extremely convenient to the poster, they never seek to contextualize this moment. (I mean, to do so would deplatform their entire “argument” - perhaps that’s why they avoid performing a full analysis?) So let’s avoid that pitfall from the start.

Firstly, below are some links to related posts; I’m going to do my best to summarize the most relevant parts, but for anyone who desires greater detail, I gotchu 😤

This post explains why EIP (the play, lol) is imperialist propaganda and is intended to belittle the entire Gaang.

This post explains how Aang never acted “entitled” to Katara’s affections, particularly in regard to EIP.

This post breaks down the infamous EIP kiss like Snopes Fact Checker, covering common misconceptions, important perspectives to consider, etc.

Alright. With that out the way, it’s time for some context.

Aang and Katara have this conversation on the balcony after watching 95% of “The Boy in the Iceberg,” a play chock-full of Fire Nation propaganda that demeans the entire Gaang in order to prop up the Fire Nation as superior (hence why the play ends with Ozai’s victory). Here is my general breakdown of Aang and Katara’s treatment in particular from a previous post:

- katara, an indigenous woman, is highly sexualized and portrayed as overly dramatic and tearful, because the fire nation objectifies women not of their own people and views them as less intelligent and less emotionally stable

- aang, the avatar, the sole survivor of the fire nation’s genocide of the air nomads who is incredibly in-touch with his spirituality and femininity, is portrayed as an overly-airy and immature woman. the fire nation portrays him with a female actor to demean him (like, that’s classic imperialistic propagandist tactics) and furthermore writing his character as a childish airhead reinforces the fire nation sentiment that the air nomads were weak, foolish people who did not deserve to exist in their world

In other words, these kids have just watched almost an entire play that preys upon their insecurities and depicts them using racist and sexist stereotypes about their respective nations. It is completely understandable that tensions might run a little high and that their interactions would not be as balanced as usual (Katara and Aang have a great track record of communicating well with each other, as it happens!).

So we have to keep that in mind when examining the aforementioned excerpt. But there are other factors to consider, too! Namely: they are kids. Children. Teens. Aang is 12, Katara is 14.

If we want to be scientific, a person’s brain doesn’t finish developing until they are 25, lmao, and the preteen/teen years are when the prefrontal cortex that controls “rationality,” “judgement,” “forethought,” etc. is still developing. This doesn’t mean Aang and Katara are irrational and make poor decisions 24/7 (obviously not), but it does mean that in an intense, highly emotional situation, like after watching a play that intentionally demeans them and depicts them as inferior, they are more likely to overreact, more likely to be emotional, and more likely to make mistakes. Like, I’m serious, lol. “Teens process information with the amygdala.” That’s part of the brain that helps control emotions! It’s why teens sometimes struggle to articulate what we’re thinking, especially in situations that require instinct/impulse and quick decisions, because we’re really feeling whenever we make those choices. Acting more on emotion. Our brains simply haven’t finished developing the decision-making parts, lmao.

In sum: Aang and Katara are both kids, not adults, and should be interpreted as such. This doesn’t negate their intelligence, because they are both incredibly smart and Aang is arguably the wisest of the Gaang, but they are human. Young humans. They have emotions, and we should not be so cruel as to assume they’d never act on them.

So taking that all together, we can now acknowledge the high stress Aang and Katara are under, understand why they might be upset (*cough* imperialist propaganda is hurtful *cough*), and examine how their youth might play into their emotional reactions. And funny thing - all analyses that come to the conclusion of Aang “threatening” Katara here do not usually bother with this context. I can’t imagine why!

And you know what, let’s add one more piece of context: Sokka states that Aang left the theater “like, ten minutes ago,” which is what cues Katara to go look for him on the balcony. The reason I mention this line is because to me, it suggests Aang knew he was more worked up than usual! He chose to separate himself from his friends so he could process his frustration! He did not take his anger at the play out on them; instead, he purposefully took time and space to be alone.

With that in mind, I don’t understand at all how Aang’s Avatar state quote could be interpreted as a threat? Canonly, Aang is someone who was aware enough of his frustration to separate himself from the others - yet the logical next step is him threatening Katara as a result? He knew his intense emotions were because of the play (which he says himself), so the logical conclusion is that he then pinned the fault on Katara? What?? Sorry, that interpretation has no textual basis, lmao. But I digress!

Aang tells Katara, “If I hadn’t blocked my chakra, I’d probably be in the Avatar State right now!” As you said, this is the line people point to in an attempt to justify their (baseless) conclusion that Aang is “threatening” Katara. So let’s bring in the two key pieces of context: imperialist propaganda and age. Given that Aang is 12, and given that Aang has just watched almost a full play that demeans him and everything his people stood for (and let’s not forget it also mocks his and Katara’s love for each other)…

His reaction is understandable. An exaggeration and needlessly dramatic, but understandable. He feels vulnerable and insecure and Aang is human. He is human and flawed and he overreacts here and I love that A:TLA shows how even our heroes, even people who are truly good at heart and in soul, can get overly upset (especially given the aforementioned circumstances!). Would Aang actually be in the Avatar state at that moment, had it been possible? Of course not! He’s young and he’s hurt and as such he says something dramatic to convey his anxieties and frustrations. The line is not meant to be taken literally, and seeing people do so despite all the factors that should be taken into consideration when analyzing it… Cue a long, tired sigh from me and so many other A:TLA fans.

And to be honest? I cannot fathom how people watch this episode and come to the conclusion that Aang is “threatening” Katara. To me, this episode - besides being a recap episode - is one that humanizes our cast even further. Aang snaps at Katara, kisses her when he shouldn’t (which the story appropriately treats as wrong). Katara pushes down her true feelings and retreats into herself, afraid to start a relationship with the boy she loves because she’s already lost him once before and can’t bear to do so again. Zuko further confronts the hurt he’s enacted upon others, especially upon Iroh. Toph practices being vulnerable and accepting vulnerability from others by conversing with Zuko. Sokka witnesses how others have erased his contributions and labelled him as nothing more than the token nonbender in the group. Even Suki learns that she is not the only person who holds a place in Sokka’s heart and that she can never replace what he has lost.

To watch this episode where our heroes must come to terms with how the Fire Nation deems them inherently inferior, with how they have more fights to overcome in the future with the Fire Nation than a single war, and to come to the conclusion that… that what, Aang is abusive? A monster? Irredeemable? That he would threaten his best friend, someone he loves in every way?

Wow. That says more than enough about the viewer, doesn’t it?

#getting back into the swing of things babey ✌️#aang #katara #kataang #kataangtag #the ember island players #atla #avatar the last airbender #amy answers #dramaticowl #amy analyzes #also i am speaking in GENERAL TERMS here lmaooo this is not a direct response to any one post 😂😂

112 notes · View notes

bbytarantula · 3 years

Text

The theory about ‘Sukuna’s going to eat (or try to eat) Megumi’ has a high probability to come true

This theory is cross-posted on posted on reddit. Contains spoilers for non-manga readers.

I know that (some) people are sick of this, but I’d like to point out something I’ve noticed from u/bushwarblerssong's post about the urban legend that inspired Gege to create Sukuna, which I think supports the ‘Sukuna will (try to) eat Megumi’ theory.

Gege said he created Sukuna based on an urban legend thread that was posted on 2chan.

The summary of this urban legend thread;

> A construction worker found a 2 meter wooden box with ‘Ryoman Sukuna ??? is sealed’ written on it at the old temple his company was demolishing. Fyi he was the one who posted the thread, so I’ll refer to him as 2chan guy just like bushwarblerssong did on their post.

> 2chan guy called the former priest of the temple & told him about the box.

> The priest told 2chan guy to not open the box.

> Two of 2chan guy’s coworkers opened the box for fun, then they became sick (mute + dazed) & hospitalized (few days later one of them died due to heart attack while the other became mentally unstable).

> That box contained a mummy of two conjoined twins.

> 2chan guy called the priest again. The priest came with his son and took the box. 2chan guy asked the priest’s son about the mummy.

> Priest’s son confirmed the mummy was indeed a pair of conjoined twins. The twins were purchased by Mononobe who was a leader of a religious sect & then the twins got locked inside a secret chamber with other prisoners who also had deformities. They all cannibalized each other there.

> Mononobe was interested in the twins & wanted the twins to become the sole survivor, so he stabbed other prisoners before he threw the twins there.

> The twins survived & Mononobe turned them into a mummy while they were still alive (by starving them). Then he named them Ryomen (Two Faces) Sukuna.

And here’s the interesting part, quoting bushwarblerssong;

To increase the mummy’s power, Mononobe filled Ryomen Sukuna’s stomach with a fine powder made from the crushed bones of ancient “traitorous clans” (like the Emishi or Tsuchigumo) eradicated by the Imperial Court.

Doesn’t the Zen’in kinda fit this label? Since they are in the process of getting removed from the three great families.

ch 152

Maki and Megumi are also deemed as traitors by the Zen’in clan, and perhaps by the Jujutsu Society/higher ups as well. Because they’re currently trying to free Gojo. Plus Megumi is on Yuji’s side and the higher ups clearly see Yuji as evil/dangerous and they want Yuji (Sukuna) dead.

ch 148

Anyway, Sukuna has a mouth on his stomach so it matches the urban legend. I’m guessing Mononobe cut open the stomach of the Urband Legend Sukuna so he could stuff it with the bone powder, thus creating the second mouth.

cover for ch 117

A huge mouth also exists in Sukuna’s domain expansion.

ch 8

ch 119

His domain expansion is called Fukumamizushi (伏魔御廚子) in Japanese. Fukuma (伏魔) means a place where demons hide while Mizushi (御廚子) means the place inside the palace where the emperor eats or the kitchen.

The name of Sukuna’s DE can be taken as “Sukuna’s kitchen” or “Emperor Sukuna’s dining place.”

“The kitchen of all deaths is here!!”

His innate domain also looks like the inside of a stomach.

So far Sukuna’s innate techniques are all related to cooking (Knives; dismantle and cleaves/filleting*, and Fire; flames |*the kanji hachi 捌 also means filleting fish) and we’ve seen him talking about his enemies in cooking term. He even 'employs' Uraume because of Uraume’s cooking skill.

Q: How long has Uraume known Sukuna?

A: Uraume has known Sukuna for 1000 years. Uraume is a human who’s allowed to stand next to Sukuna because Uraume could make delicious food. Uraume is also a sorcerer.

Q: Is Uraume a chef?

A: Sukuna likes to eat people, but it’s difficult to cook them, or rather only few people have the experience, but Uraume is excellent at this.

This character introduction implies that the reason why Sukuna allows Uraume to become his (only) follower is because of Uraume’s cooking skill. Weren't Uraume a good cook, Sukuna most likely wouldn't keep Uraume around.

Also, let’s not forget that it’s also mentioned in the official fanbook that Sukuna finds the most pleasure in eating.

三枚おろし is a culinary term for filleting a fish (into three slices).

味見 means tasting. The fight is a literal taste test for him.

“A delicious death begins with a careful preparation.”

The motif of eating and cooking is heavily emphasized on Sukuna. Even the way he gains control of Yuji’s body began with eating (Yuji ate Sukuna’s finger). Moreover Yuji is also a good cook, he taught Megumi to make meatballs.

(FYI in Gifu prefecture, there’s a giant dish called "Sukuna nabe" or Sukuna stew. Apparently this dish can serve approximately 2500 people. Gifu prefecture was the Hida province back then. It’s said that people of Hida liked Sukuna & considered him as a hero because he defeated a poisonous dragon and a demon called Shichina)

These are the reasons why I believe Sukuna will eat someone later, or at least try to. I’m willing to bet a huge amount of money on this. That mouth on his stomach isn’t there just for decorating, it’s for eating.

And since his interest is solely on Megumi, it’s logical to assume Megumi will become his prey in the future.

I mean, who else fits this position beside Megumi? The other person Sukuna acknowledges is Gojo (so far only Gojo and Megumi are referred to with their full names by Sukuna) but that acknowledgement doesn’t seem to go beyond killing—revenge against Gojo for humiliating him in ch 2/ep 3.

IMO if Sukuna does end up eating humans again later, the very first person he eats would be someone whom he considers special, like a fine grade-A ingredient. Basically the human version of wagyu beef or bluefin tuna.

He wouldn't eat just anybody, at least not at first, because it's stated in the fanbook that "it's difficult to cook them (humans)." So I don't think he would reserve such meticulous preparation for random nobodies. Besides it'd be his first meal after a thousand years of being sealed, so it's gotta be special.

And for what reason? Why would he want to eat Megumi? And why not now? Why wait?

Like many others I believe he wants to absorb Megumi’s power or ability once Megumi reaches his full potential, similar to what Getwo/Kenjaku did with Mahito to cast Maximum Uzumaki in order to create his ideal world, and also similar to the Urband Legend Sukuna ("to increase power").

u/Astral_M explained this in their post about the body is equal to the soul, thus consuming the body is equal to consuming the soul. Quoting them;

Because Sukuna's fingers (part of his body == soul) were preserved, his core of cursed energy is preserved. And Yuji is evidence of a very important concept: Consuming someone's body counts as consuming their cursed core, inheriting their technique!

source: WAYA - Anime Explanation (min 5:01)

I’ve seen multiple versions of translation/interpretations of this, the most common one is “Sukuna wants to create his ideal world with Megumi” I’m not trying to be nitpicking here but this version contains a different meaning from the one I screenshot, because it implies Sukuna wants Megumi to work together with him...... and I doubt that's exactly what Sukuna has in mind. I'm assuming the one I screenshot is the correct (more accurate) version because WAYA is a native Japanese speaker.

Also I think it's worth to note that it's not Gege who said this, it’s the interviewer. Gege’s answer/respond to it was fully censored, so we don’t know whether he actually agreed with this notion or not.

The interviewer then said this (in response to Gege's bleeped out answer);

Another translation;

source: _zanzou_

I don’t think Megumi is going to die (or get eaten) early. It’d happen in or near the final arc.

Megumi either dies in Sukuna/Yuji’s hands (depends if they manage to separate, I'm betting Sukuna's going to merge with Yuji though, because it fits the theme; conjoined twins + two faces), or he lives, because clearly Sukuna wouldn’t allow others to kill him.

Thanks for reading!

TL;DR Sukuna will definitely (try to) eat someone later and that someone is most likely going to be Megumi.

#Jujutsu Kaisen #jujutsu kaisen theory #fushiguro megumi #ryomen sukuna #tw spoilers #jjk spoilers #sukufushi #cannibal sukuna

23 notes · View notes

rinzis · 3 years

Text

writing about my new genshin oc??? okay?????okay!!!!!! i’m on mobile so i can’t add the read more option i’m so sorry

—

details

—

name: kiyoharu misa

birthday: august 3rd

sex/pronouns: female, she/her

region: inazuma

constellation: lunam lilia

vision: electro

weapon: sword

rarity: 5*

title: princess of the kiyoharu household, moonlit swordsmaiden (unofficial)

affiliation: kiyoharu clan, the resistance

—

synopsis

—

the princess of the fallen household kiyoharu. she carries a patterned umbrella which she is seldom seen without, and within which lies her precious katana. a gentle yet influential soul, she is well known for her impressive swordsmanship throughout the resistance in inazuma.

—

character story

—

character details

at first glance, people might not think that kiyoharu misa was anything special. seeing a young woman strolling through the land of inazuma carrying an intricate paper umbrella would not faze anyone. but, under this delicate guise, misa conceals both her dear katana and her vision.

the princess of the kiyoharu household is known to be a gentle soul who yearns for freedom from the raiden shogun and the tenryou commission. since her childhood, she has always been fascinated by the moon and its rays, a particular trait of kiyoharu descendants. misa earned herself the title of ‘moonlit swordsmaiden’ after combining her unparalleled swordsmanship with her illuminated vision.

story 1

the kiyoharu clan was once a widely respected and loved clan across inazuma. the household was known for its tendency to produce talented swordsmen who earn themselves visions through selflessness and helping others, and for this reason they were seen as high nobility. however, members of the kiyoharu household were reluctant in hiring many maids or servants - they believe that if one can be capable of harnessing the power gifted by gods through blade alone, one should also be able to cook a simple meal, or wash their own clothing. through this doctrine the kiyoharu descendants earned themselves unwavering respect from all citizens of inazuma, and even the raiden shogun herself - for a while.

story 2

descendants such as misa are taught from a young age to honour their ancestors, but also those who currently serve inazuma as well. misa excelled in swordsmanship, being able to wield a blade so gracefully to the point where it appeared as though she was dancing, using it as simply an accessory. the leader of the clan gifted to her a delicate paper umbrella, and he spoke to her these words: “do not mistake kindness for weakness. from dainty petals drip deadly poisons.”, and with that, misa understood her duty. she would protect the citizens of inazuma with her life, with her dainty umbrella and deadly blade at her side. she is seldom seen without either.

story 3

the kiyoharu clan were known best for the number of descendants who possess visions. thus, when the vision hunt decree was issued, the tenryou commission sought out every member of the household owning a vision. misa’s family would rather have died than hand over their precious visions. despite their unyielding fighting spirit, the kiyoharu household was overcome by the sheer numbers in the tenryo commission. there were supposedly no survivors, but it just so happened that the young kiyoharu misa was dispatched on a mission on behalf of the household the day it fell. the young swordsmaiden returned to her home in ruins, her whole life taken from her. she knew at that moment that as the sole descendant of the kiyoharu household, she would avenge her clan and return lost visions to those who suffer at the hands of the tenryo commission.

story 4

misa met all sorts of people on her journey through inazuma as a vision-bearing fighter, the most notable of all being the ronin kaedehara kazuha. she used to live a life of solitude in a small house near the edge of the islands of inazuma, but this life of solitude was changed upon seeing the rain-soaked samurai appear at her doorstep one evening. seeing each other’s visions, misa realised that kazuha was not a threat at all. the days they spent together inspired misa to venture out, to find the resistance in inazuma alongside the swordsman and reclaim justice for the fallen. and so, she left yet another life behind to travel with kazuha through inazuma in search of everything and nothing at all. nights of listening to the ronin’s musings and conversing under the moonlight unknowingly planted a blossom in misa’s heart, one which would remain there forever.

story 5

misa and kazuha’s travels took them all across inazuma. despite them both being wanted for their visions, the tenryo commission’s lackeys and treasure hoarders were no match for the pair’s skill in bladework. misa secretly yearned day after day for any sign of affection or mutuality from the young samurai, but as the princess of a famed clan she chose to remain composed and calm about the whole ordeal. however, when the ronin told the princess of his plan to leave inazuma with the crux fleet, he explained that he did not want to take this life from her. he confessed that his musings and haikus about the heart and its desires he so often shared with her were about her, and that his own heart would belong eternally to her. thus, he left her with a simple promise. “the wind will bring us together once again, misa. i will return home to you, and then will i forever devote myself to you. this i promise, my princess.”

the kiyoharu sword dance

those who have witnessed kiyoharu misa in battle often note how she appears more to be dancing than harshly fighting. the kiyoharu household drew its strength and style in battle from the moon and its light, and they channeled this into their blades during battle. misa’s god given agility combined with this graceful power leads ultimately to her captivating swordsmanship. with the electro imbued in her blade, misa is all too capable in taking down foes with ease. in the night hours, a stroll down to a clearing or open beach may lead you to find the princess honing her blade under the silver of the moon, with a sword that never sleeps. she is renowned throughout the resistance as one of the most talented swordswomen in inazuma.

the vision

misa was granted her vision during a particularly dangerous incident during her early training years. one fateful evening, she was out with other kiyoharu swordsmen, practicing her skills with her blade in the open country.

“lady misa, please remain here while we briefly survey the area. we have had reports of active treasure hoarders roaming this area, and we would hate for anything to happen to you at this time. we will be back shortly.”

and so, they left her on the path to scout the surrounding land. clutching the hilt of her sword, the very thought of being ambushed by grown men with malicious intentions worried misa, especially since she hadn’t obtained a vision yet. but alas, how wrong her fellow swordsmen were.

“well, what do we have here? the prestigious kiyoharu misa, is it? count ourselves lucky boys, it’s just the one we were after.”, drawled the advancing treasure hoarders.

her hands trembled on her sword. how could she possible deter these twenty, no, thirty treasure hoarders alone? glancing down at her sheathed blade, misa wondered if she’d see her family again.

no, why was she thinking like this?

steady yourself, misa. focus on your breathing. the dance will go on. your blade does not rest.

she draws her sword.

to the young swordsmaiden’s surprise, a new energy unlike anything she had witnessed before struck her senses. and so she danced, her blade piercing the air and with it bringing down the treasure hoarders in quick succession. but she could only go on for so long.

panting, misa retreated towards the edge of the river. the men relentlessly kept on coming, and she knew she was almost completely spent. her legs and hands quivered, and her mind raced with prayers to the goddess baal. with a small breath, she spoke these words:

“archons, guide me. i beg, lend me your strength.”

a faint crackling filled the air, before a tremendous burst of silver lightning struck the ground before her. the sword in her hands glowed a pale purple, and it was then that she realised the archons had answered her prayers. wielding this newfound power, she swung her blade with a new fervour.

twenty, no, thirty treasure hoarders lay at the princess of the kiyoharu household’s feet. the chime of a small ornament hitting the ground was the only sound after the crackling died down. at long last, kiyoharu misa’s vision had been granted to her by the gods. holding the electro vision in her hands, she whispered these words:

“the dance will go on.”

—

voice lines

—

hello

“i’m kiyoharu misa, nice to meet you! l-lady misa? oh no, please — there’s really no need for the formalities. i’m just as ordinary as you are. say, how about we travel together for a while? i’m sure your stories are bound to keep me entertained on our arduous journeys.”

chat: urgency

“a storm is brewing… let’s keep moving.”

chat: resting

“you’d like to rest? alright, want to share a quick meal?”

chat: sword

“i should really polish my sword soon…”

when it rains

“my my, it seems the heavens really have opened. let’s find shelter quickly, i’d hate to continue travelling in this weather.”

after the rain

“the lingering scent of the rain is one of my most favourite smells… for me, it heralds a fresh start. well, come on then! shall we head off?”

when it snows

“hmm… i really do enjoy the snow. especially when the moonlight casts a glimmering sheen over the world, enveloping inazuma in a soft silver. i hope we can witness it together sometime.”

when the wind is blowing

“i have a friend who adores the wind. he left some time ago, but i know he will return home to me one day. sometimes i wonder if i can hear his voice catching on the breeze, lines of poetry drifting along with it. hey, don’t give me that look! we’re just… uh… friends...”

good morning

“[sigh] i’m really not much of a morning person. i’m certainly not on my best form in the late morning hours… oh, you’re ready to leave already? r-right, i’ll be ready as soon as possible!”

good afternoon

“hmm, i’m feeling a little hungry… would you like to grab a bite to eat? no, it’s alright - there are inns up ahead that know the resistance. we’ll be just fine. and, if not, we have our blades. heh.”

good evening

“the setting sun is particularly pretty this evening. once the storm has fully settled, i hope to see the true beauty of the inazuman skies once again. i will see that vision to the end.”

good night

“you’re heading to sleep? alright, sleep well. me? well… the moon is my friend, i suppose. a little sword dance under its light helps me retain my focus. i won’t be too long, don’t worry.”

about kiyoharu misa

“my umbrella? oh, it was a gift from the leader of the kiyoharu household when i was born. i had it altered to accommodate the length and width of my sword - see? though it appears to be but a dainty paper umbrella, what lies within is a retribution sentence. it is my will given form.”

about us: kiyoharu origin

“my title as princess of the kiyoharu clan is something i will carry with me forever. despite the unjust fall of my household, i will bring back its honour. the raiden shogun’s vision hunt decree stripped my family of their lives, thus i swear i will reclaim justice. for them, and for the future.”

about us: kiyoharu motto

“the motto of the kiyoharu household is: “with grace and with fortitude.”, and i channel this saying into my sword whenever i draw it. it is the foundation for the kiyoharu way of life.”

about us: sword art

“ah, i see you have taken an interest in my fighting style. for me, fighting with a sword should not just be about the battle. it is an art, and i find myself overindulging in the grace and fluidity of swordsmanship all too often.”

about the vision

“my vision? i see it as a way of showing solidarity against the oppressive raiden shogun. i do not wish to hide that which is so dear to me, and that which forges my identity. this vision is my symbol of strength, and the tenryo commission who seeks it will be met with my unyielding blade.”

something to share

“i’m not sure how long you will be in inazuma for, but traveler - one day, i’d like to take you to a festival here. they are truly wonderful, and members of the resistance always find ourselves sneaking in to witness them as well. ever since i was young, i’ve loved them so much, and i’d love to share this memory with you as a reminder of your time in inazuma.”

interesting things

“traveler, is it true that in liyue there are gods that walk amongst the people? huh… adepti you say… so, they just co-exist with mortals peacefully? you’ve met them?! wow… it seems i underestimated your power! just what else have you witnessed since being in teyvat…”

about kazuha: relationships

“kaedehara kazuha? ahem… well… yes, i suppose you could say that we are… lovers, of sorts. on his final night here, he left me with a single promise. i often spend nights staring up at the moon with him in my mind. i will wait for him, for as long as it takes, i know that i will see him again one day. i know that he will return home soon.”

about kazuha: poetry

“kazuha would often recite haikus to me as we’d live together when he was here. i remember him arriving at my doorstep, drenched in rain from head to toe, and i hadn’t the heart to turn him away. he stayed for a while, and after a few days i decided to risk it all for him. the bond we share… is unbreakable. if you see him, let him know that i am waiting for him.”

about kamisato ayaka

“i have a lot of respect for the princess of the kamisato clan. she conducts herself in a light i admire greatly, and she and i are close friends. her swordsmanship is just as impressive, and i would love it if we could spar once more as we used to. perhaps i will visit her soon…”

about yoimiya

“yoimiya? oh, of course - festivals in inazuma aren’t complete without a firework show organised by her. i have also heard her skills with a bow are unique, to say the least. paired with her passion for fireworks, i assume the combination work… interestingly in battle.”

about sayu

“hm? sayu… you mean the ninja who resides in the forests? i can’t say i’ve seen much of her… which is odd, considering she wields that great claymore…”

about gorou

“oh, gorou! i know him very well, actually. he was one of the first people i befriended as part of the resistance. he is a sound fighter, and i believe he can achieve great things. perhaps i can see him again soon.”

about the raiden shogun

“the raiden shogun… her despicable vision hunt decree… the tenryo commission… i detest it all. to see so many people’s dreams stripped, to see the colour fade from so many precious hopes… i will see to it that this is all restored. i cannot sympathise with a god who robs her people of their dreams.”

more about kiyoharu misa i

“you’d like to know more about me? i’m flattered. i know that your journey through inazuma won’t be easy, so please don’t hesitate to drop by every once in a while. my blade never rests, after all.”

more about kiyoharu misa ii

“the carvings on my sword are most intricate. a swordsmaiden’s weapon is her will. i find myself staring at the moon night after night, and the patterns on my sword are a tribute to the power it lends me.”

more about kiyoharu misa iii

“you want to know about my title? well, moonlit swordsmaiden refers to the way i utilise my vision. the light of the moon reflects through the electro element, and i believe that through this combination i can convey the power of the resistance.”

more about kiyoharu misa iv

“i’m an only child, so the fate of the kiyoharu clan rests in my hands. traveler, i believe that through knowing you i have become a better person. i hope that you will visit inazuma once again.”

more about kiyoharu misa v

“here, this is for you. it’s a charm made from pure sea glass. the way the sun and moonlight reflects through its unique colours is a rare sight to behold. i suppose this is a thank you gift, for everything we’ve been through together.”

kiyoharu misa’s hobbies

“my hobbies? well, in the late night and early morning hours, i enjoy heading down to a secluded beach and basking in the moonlight. those hours are the perfect opportunity to practice swordsmanship, and the art of sword dancing too. besides that, i suppose i enjoy embroidery too, although i’m not particularly good at it…”

kiyoharu misa’s troubles

“i often worry about the other members of the resistance. i find myself questioning as to whether they still have their visions, or even their lives. on top of that, i hope that one day i will be reunited with my lover… i pray that he too made it out safely.”

favorite food

“my mother used to make the most takoyaki. my family weren’t so insistent on having maids running around when we could cook everything ourselves, so i would always snack on my mother’s dishes. even today, the taste of takoyaki brings back vivid memories of my mother.”

least favourite food

“honestly, i’m not much of a picky eater, but i’m not too fond of anything containing fish eggs…”

birthday

“happy birthday! it’s a special day for you today. is there anything in particular you’d like? no, don’t be silly, of course i’ll get it for you! seeing as you’ve helped me this far, it’s only right that i give something back to you! on top of that, if there’s anything you ever need at all, i’ll be sure to help you out, friend.”

feelings about ascension: intro

“my blade only grows stronger. let’s continue working hard.”

feelings about ascension: building up

“how to describe this feeling… lightweight, but more powerful. the dance will go on.”

feelings about ascension: climax

“with each passing day, my blade grows keener. the moon seems more radiant than ever before.”

feelings about ascension: conclusion

“i believe i owe you a great thanks. the moonlight that rains down on the world will forever be in your favour, traveler. both you and i will improve leaps and bounds from here on out.”

addition to party

“are we heading off?”

“alright, ready when you are.”

“it’s time, let’s go.”

elemental skill

“will of my sword!”

“shrouded in moonlight!”

(convergence) “cut them blind!”

(convergence) “beams, converge!”

elemental burst

“kiyoharu art: carver of radiance!”

“dance of death.”

“face my blade!”

fallen

“i thought… we’d meet… again…”

“friends… i’m sorry…”

“no… i wasn’t… done…”

—

talents

—

normal attack - kiyoharu sword art

perform up to 5 consecutive attacks with a sword.

charged attack: consume a set amount of stamina to unleash a more powerful attack, dealing physical dmg to enemies.

plunging attack: plunges from mid-air to strike the ground below, damaging opponents in an aoe upon impact.

elemental skill - remnants of moonlight

tap once: kiyoharu misa dashes quickly forwards, dealing electro dmg to enemies in her path. she leaves a thunderblade at her starting and end point of her dash.

tap again: the thunderblades converge with kiyoharu misa as the focal point, creating a triangular zone of convergence. enemies within the zone of convergence are dealt electro dmg and are knocked up. a mark of radiance is applied to enemies within the zone of convergence.

if the skill is not reactivated, the two thunderblades will converge in a line after 4s. marks of radiance last for 12s.

elemental burst - kiyoharu art: carver of radiance

kiyoharu misa leaps into the air, before plunging down and dealing a powerful slash to enemies, dealing massive electro dmg. for 3s after her slash, thunder strikes will crash down on enemies who are marked by mark of radiance, dealing extra electro dmg.

passive 1 - swordsmaiden’s revenge

enemies affected by a mark of radiance will take 15% more damage from kiyoharu misa’s normal and charged attacks.

passive 2 - thundering retribution

kiyoharu misa’s crit dmg is increased by 10% for 5s after a zone of convergence is activated.

natural passive - lightning clarity

all party members’ crit dmg is increased by 10% when kiyoharu misa is in the party.

—

constellations

—

constellation 1: tenacity of lightning

the duration of thunderblades on the field is increased to 6s, and the duration of marks of radiance on enemies is increased to 16s.

constellation 2: shredding thunder

enemies marked by marks of radiance have their elemental res decreased by 20%.

constellation 3: roots of kiyoharu

the level of kiyoharu art: carver of radiance is increased by 3.

constellation 4: fatal reunion

if there are more than 5 enemies within the zone of convergence cast by remnants of moonlight, the cooldown is decreased by 3s.

constellation 5: swordsmaiden’s unwavering will

the level of remnants of moonlight is increased by 3.

constellation 6:

kiyoharu art: carver of radiance deals 50% more dmg to enemies previously affected by electro.

—

appearance

—

kiyoharu misa is a young woman and is of average height, with light brown hair, tied half up in a braided bow and then tied at the very bottom. she has bangs which frame her face. her eyes are deep gray-purple, and she has a small scar across the bridge of her nose. her outfit is coordinated with white and lavender colours, and her paper umbrella is also patterned with lavender coloured lightning and flower patterns.

i’m horrible at art so here’s a fun picrew of misa …… this isn’t what she’d wear but it’s the closest thing to what i was imagining ig …… also the band aid is supposed to be her lil scar LOL

#finally dragged misa out of the drafts #zizi’s ocs

14 notes · View notes

matchasparrow · 3 years

Text

Exploration of a Maglor AU - part 3 - On Doriath and the fate of the Silmarils

Part 1 Part 2

Now the important question - the first kinslaying - what happens?

Dior has a Silmaril, her brothers need the Silmaril.

Maedhros sends letters after letters, asking, explaining, apologising.

There is no reply, no other answer than Dorinthian pride.

Maglor goes. She travels through the dense forests and spell woven woods, through wildlands and settlements of Nandors alone. Her sole company being the memory of Aredhel speaking to her.

She stands before the proud lords and ladies or Doriath, before beautiful Dior, and sings as Luthien sang before Mandos. She pours her grief and guilt and the darkness that is the doom. Sings of a future, free of blood oaths and darkness and hateful fueds. There were few dry eyes in the audience. But Dior still sits, eyes sombre but unglistening on Thingol’s throne. Even her voice does not have the power to erase the sins of the Noldor in the eyes of Luthien’s son.

She kneels. Both knees on the ground. Scarlet dress stained with mud spread out on pristine white marble floor. Voice still carrying the lingering notes of the song.

“Please. Give me a chance to make this right. “ she pleaded, tears flowing unabashed.

A heavy pause. They look into each other’s eyes, hooked and searching.

Dior waveringly stood, and treaded towards her. He bent down and delicately took the starlit gem from around his neck and dropped it into her palms.

“Then make it right.”

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

Or at least, that’s one version of the events.

In this version, Maglor collects the Silmarils. So how did Eonwe and the host of the Valar come to middle earth without Earendil and Elwing and the Silmaril? How did Earendil even meet Elwing?

The Silmaril leaves Doriath, Morgoth attacks. Doriath’s been vulnerable for years, and he wants revenge. The slaughter was merciless. Reinforcements poured in from Himring and the Pass of Aglon on Maedhros’ orders, but they were too late. Dior and Nimloth were dead, along with a fifth of the people in Doriath. Elwing survives, carried by her nursemaid and a horde of guards, they fled to Sirion along with the rest of their people. Elurin and Elured were missing. Taken by the enemy, perhaps. They hoped that they were dead. Weeks passed, and there were no taunts, no mock ransom from the enemy. And thereafter nothing were heard from the sons of Dior ever again.

(Perhaps, in the chaos of the invasion, the boys ran and ran, directionless and fearful, till they reached the dark lands of Nan Elmoch. There the boys clung unto each other, cold and famished in the abandoned, drowsy woods. They curled up under tall, unfamiliar trees as they breathed in air laced with heavy magic. - except - it was not wholly unfamiliar. They were the scions of Luthien, of Melian. And the life of the forest responded to these part Maian creatures. They unfolded their secrets to them - the sweet honey and rich purple fruits offered themselves up for their tastes, the low humming plants sang them to sleep at night, moss and vine stitched themselves up to be their blankets and cloaks. Leaves sheltered their way and white luminescent flowers bloomed for them, lighting their way to each other whenever they became separated. They were enchanted, and the enchanter. They loved these woods and the woods loved them. And together, they sunk to the bottom of the ocean as tall waves rolled over Beleriand.

Perhaps the trees again wove themselves into a net, warding the forest from the water, sealing themselves off from the world, and forever hence Elured and Elurin wandered the woods as princes of an Atlantis. )

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

Back to Maglor.

So there is a greater force this time since they were on heavy guard against an attack and reinforcements, though late, did arrive.

And the survivors were stronger, Sirion was a refugee camp, but it was also powerful - and now all the forces of middle earth were united, martyred by evil.

Maglor was a Feanorian. Her brothers felt no urge to snatch the Silmaril from her hands, so in turn, Maglor used the light of the Silmaril to help Sirion grow whenever she visited Sirion, which was often. The Feanorian forces defeated much of Morgoth’s forces when they attacked at Doriath, so Maglor could worry less about retribution and attack on their own forces, at least for the next few years - so Maglor, guilty about the sacrifice of Doriath, spent a lot of time with Elwing in Sirion, and almost helped raised her along with the courtiers and Celeborn and Galadriel.

Being at Sirion was an advantage in other ways too. It was at the crossroads of many lands and peoples, and a perfect place to perfect strategies and alliances.

Elros and Elrond are born. They adored Maglor with her stories and songs. And always they want more, more, more. Their hands always tugging on her dress and getting her to play catch with them on the beach.

---

They are stronger, but it is not enough.

It was peaceful. Too peaceful. The calm before the storm, the silence of a predator before he pounces.

Sirion and Himring and Nargothrond are attacked. They win. They lose more than a quarter of their people. Celegorm and Caranthir die. They cannot hold on much longer.

Idril and Tuor left, and they have not returned. Earendil sits at the docks every day, sometimes with his family. Elwing lace her fingers through his, but there is a disquiet and restlessness in his heart that she cannot understand.

Earendil sails. He comes back more tired and defeated every time. He cannot reach Valinor.

“He thinks he needs the Silmaril.” Elwing said to Maglor.

Maglor stands with her on the edge of the cliff, looking at the far horizon for lands that she has not seen in centuries. She sees nothing. She closes her eyes and searches within her bond with Nerdanel, and she feels nothing. This is the long defeat, and she will lose her brothers one by one, with or without the one Silmaril she has by her side. “I think so too.” she replied.

She gives the Silmaril to Earendil, and says nothing of it to her brothers. For all they know, the Silmaril is still with her. She could tell them, she suppose, what could they do to Earendil, far out at sea. But she is caught between lying to them, and betraying their trust in the worst way. She feels sick to the bones, as she answers them with cheerful letters from afar, casual to ease suspicion. “I’ll come to visit soon” She lied.

Could she tell Maedhros? Who’s now aloof and half-mad with grief? Curufin was the one brother she has never quite been able to control. They loved each other, despite everything - every fight, every hair pulled, every disappointed look - but Curufin would be the last person she would confess to. She could not bear looking into the ghost of her father’s face to tell him that she has given away his most prized creation (prized above his children, she’s sure) to the Sindar, all for a chance of bribing the Valar to their aid. A bitterness grows in her heart, and she cannot swallow it down. The Ambarrusa are good secret keepers, but she will not burden them ...with what? She asks herself. With the task of forgiving you? So you can feel absolved of your guilt? And feed your fantasy? The days without a reply or sign grew longer, and she began to despair.

---

Her brothers grow uneasy, something burns in their chest. They think it’s the other 2 Silmarils calling to them. “We must attack.” Curufin seethed at every opportunity, eager for revenge.

The time is indeed coming, Galadriel has sensed as much.

---

A new star appears in the night sky. And that’s when they knew. Hope and despair and fear jugged for space in her heart. But in the end she will not be conquered, she gathered her troops, checked the defenses, and prepared for attacks.

No letter of accusation and rage came from any of her brothers. No letters came at all. She writes to them, letters of confession and apologies and firm reasons. Still, there is no reply.

Finally, Maedhros writes a letter telling her to return to the gap, for they sensed an attack was imminent. It was signed “Regards, Maedhros Feanorian”

She goes.

The Ambarrussa dies. She never got to apologise to them face to face, nor hear their forgiveness. She would hold their hands again, hear them laugh, and run through the woods, free and unburdened, she resolved. She would not let them fade in the void. Curufin's empty eyes stare into her, and it burns her promise into her fea the way the oath burns into theirs.

---

The host from Valinor arrives.

They finally got the other 2 gems together, this time, she did not have to steal them.

Earendil descended from the night sky. He could not touch the ground, but there was no rule about her going up. The last 2 Feanorians stood on Vilgront and held the 3 Silmarils together for the first time in an Age. She feels no different, but Maedhros slump in relief. “We’re free’ he said, and he gave the Silmaril back to Earendil. “May your hope shine on middle earth and bring aid to all those who need it” He gave his blessings and turned to Maglor.

“Thank you, for eveything” and clasped her so tight she couldn’t breathe. She held him, wrapped her arms round his tall, slender frame and tried to picture that she’s embracing Celegorm, Caranthir, Curufin, Amrod, Amras and...father.

She cries, tears flow unabashedly and she’s just so happy that they’re free - free from darkness, free to start anew, free to go home.

---

They readied the ships back to Aman. One Silmaril they gifted to Earendil, one they gifted to Gil-galad and Elrond, to give aid and light to whoever is in need in middle earth, one they brought with them back to middle earth, as a symbol of victory and remembrance.

When they go back, their brothers and mother are waiting for them on the shore. This time, the Valar were merciful.

#i realise that this probably should have just been an no oath Maglor!Au #but happy ending #there are other endings of course #maybe i'll post the other stuff later #maglor #Maglor AU #fem!Maglor #Silmarillion #Feanorians #Elurin #Elured #Elwing #Elrond #Valar #The Oath #Earendil #Doriath

32 notes · View notes

leiainhoth · 4 years

Link

Summary: For so long, Din fought the reality of giving the child up, giving him to the jetii and moving on. He had prepared for it, packed a bag and left it all behind, so his son could have the life he deserved.

All until he didn't have to. Or the one where Luke finds Grogu on Tython, and Din rescues Luke in turn.

...

Luke froze, his mind spinning as he swerved, the nose of his X-wing diving suddenly before Luke corrected it. Artoo whirled an admonishment, but Luke's mind swam with the influx of information. It was too much, and so clear, the words floating through his mind as he manually updated the nav-comp.

"I know, I know!" he exclaimed, his hands flying over the controls, mindful but mentally distant of his X-wing stopping suddenly in dead space. The words of his masters hung over him, but he had to move; something was wrong. He didn't know what it was (maker, he didn't know who it was), but he had to help them. Wasn't this his mission when he decided to become a Jedi master? To find others like him? To help them, if he could?

Luke corrected his course and turned the nose of his X-wing for Tython.

The force wielder there was strong, stronger than most. They were afraid, reaching out for fear of danger. It was lucky that Luke was close by, it seemed unlikely that another like him could reach the call before he could, but the message still hit him like cold water.

It had been so long since he had felt a presence in his mind; so far as he knew, he and Leia were the only other force-users left. The Jedi were gone, and Luke was the sole survivor of a once-great order— the very last Jedi master.

And now, this.

Whoever they were, Luke was desperate to reach them. They might have information to share, insights to spread. They were in danger, calling out from a seeing stone. Luke had been visiting the ancient Jedi temples, scouring the galaxy for something, anything that would tell him more about what it was to be a Jedi. There were so many clues, but they lacked cohesion. The doctrine and mantras flowed through his mind, but if he truly was the last, the very last Jedi, could he train others? Bring other force-sensitive to be one with the force?

Help, the voice had called, echoing and splintering through space— danger, capture. Help us.

Luke reached the planet and jumped out of hyperspace, Artoo whirling a warning to his speed. "We need to get there fast," Luke said, his mind swimming with worry.

The planet was rocky, nearly inhospitable. Luke spotted three ships docked to his left, a transport swarmed with troopers, some sort of gunner and kriffing Hoth; it couldn't be. The last time he had seen that ship was before they defeated Jabba on Tatooine, five years prior. He should be dead!

He was dead; no one survived a sarlaac. Han had killed him; the jetpack had misfired. But he wasn't, or someone had stolen his ship and landed here for some reason.

The air cleared, and the seeing stone appeared, the blue aura swirling around a figure too small to see. The force user wasn't presently in danger, but Luke watched anxiously, nonetheless. He looked closer; three figures were fighting the troopers in the rocks and seemed to be succeeding. But the child was alone, desperately calling for help.

"We need to land, Artoo!" Luke said anxiously, looking desperately for a landing pad. A shiver ran down his spine, and Luke looked up through the cockpit viewport to see a light cruiser entering atmo.

Stars, Luke thought, his eyes tracking helplessly from the figure (was it a child?) to the cruiser. He needed to focus, he needed to think, he couldn't risk getting distracted. The child was his only priority: he couldn't think about anything else. They had called for aid, and Luke was anxious to provide it. But if others were after the child, it was his duty to protect him by any means necessary.

"Here we go again," Luke said, engaging the targeting computer. "Artoo, get a read on that cruiser. Scan for life forms,"

Artoo whirled and beeped, and Luke cycled through the settings on his gun array, locking the s foils in attack position, almost like second nature. He did it without thinking, and Artoo beeped to inform him that everything was engaged and ready for battle.

From the belly of the cruiser, four figures emerged, and Luke breathed deeply, desperately trying to keep calm as they made a beeline for the child. The troopers had no life signs; were they droids? Luke sensed no malevolence in them, programming only. He would feel no guilt at destroying them if it meant saving the child.

The first two were picked off with no problem; they kept such a tight formation that Luke supposed he could shoot with his eyes closed. The last one banked suddenly, and Luke's charge flew over its shoulder. He took a breath and fired again, downing it.

The last turned as if identifying Luke as a more pressing threat. He banked hard, surprising Artoo, but the droid followed, growing closer with each passing minute.

"Flaps!" he shouted and lurched forward as the X-wing flew backwards, momentarily stunning the droid. But it turned, and its arm made contact with the starboard wing, breaking off a strut and leaving the ship dangerously unbalanced.

"I'm losing control!" Luke shouted, his hands flying over the navigational instruments, but his ship was falling. The ground flew up towards him, but he managed to glide, favouring the port wing and landing with an earsplitting screech on the rock formation below.

Luke took a shuddering breath, lifting his visor with trepidation. He was safe; it wasn't his worst landing, but his ship…

He groaned, triggering the release mechanism with his thumb before bracing his hands against the viewport, popping the seal with relative ease. Luke clambered out and tried to orient himself. Where was the child? Had the troopers reached him?

"Stay here, Artoo!" Luke shouted, running with all his might towards the seeing stone.

The belly of the cruiser opened again, and the firepower from below the rise steadied his mind. The child was safe; the child would be safe. He felt for his lightsaber on his hip and ran like his life depended on it, up the rise to where the child sat alone and defenceless.

Help me

Luke's heart stopped when he saw the troopers, six of them with more incoming, descending to the seeing stone with an alarming velocity. He took the limp child in his arms and activated his lightsaber.

He sensed movement behind him, but Luke moved on instinct, ignoring all else but the ebbs and flows of the force. He was unused to having someone else to protect, but the baby clung to him like a vice; their claws digging into Luke's shoulder. He let the baby clamber up to his shoulder, and flexed his right arm, unhindered in movement.

He jutted forward as the troopers landed and sliced downward, cutting the trooper across the hips for good measure, another through the knees before beheading him. They seemed drawn to the child; as if they could sense them, as if they were hunting them.

"Kid!"

Luke swerved, unsteady, but corrected himself just in time to parry the block of a trooper before beheading them in a firm strike. The last three figures approached, heavily armed, and Luke felt cornered. Were they after the child as well? Or were they allies?

The child stirred, his thoughts loud and clear in the force. He squirmed, but Luke held him fast, the echoing shots of a sniper rifle just behind him ruffling his hair and hitting the trooper closest to him in the eyes before the nearest figure (a Mandalorian?) gutted him with a spear.

Two left.

Luke turned, too late, distracted and dazed from the confrontation, but the Mandalorian struck first, shocking the trooper with a bolt from a pulse rifle, leaving a sizeable hole in the droids sternum. There was no time to reload, but Luke blasted him backwards with the force, pinning it against the stone before crushing it from within. Luke turned as it fell, facing the others with the child in his arms.

The last figure tore towards him, and Luke moved on instinct, slicing the droid from hip to shoulder.

But he was too late. The droid's arm reached up with inhuman speed and punched him cleanly in the forehead, and Luke blacked out.

continued

#found family #mandadlorian #the mandalorian spoilers #the mandalorians #my fic #family bonding #jedi training #mando'a lessons #strangers to friends to lovers #or the one where Luke rescues Grogu on Tython #and Din rescues Luke in turn #dinluke #din djarin/luke skywalker #IJADIHIM-xXxVioletSkyxXx

45 notes · View notes

electricshoebox · 3 years

Text

writing tag

Tagged by the lovely @adventuresofmeghatron, thank you!

Tagging: @junemermaid, @molliehaswords, @desynchimminent, @valkyriejack, and @mercurymiscellany, if you’d like to do it!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

39. Holy shit.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

533,274 words. Holy shit.

3. What are you top 5 fics by kudos?

How to Share a Bed Without Killing Each Other: a Love Story (Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dorian/Iron Bull, 5 Chapters, Complete) The trials and tribulations of literally sleeping together.

Rivers in the Sand (Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dorian/Iron Bull, Oneshot, Complete) The Hissing Wastes unsettles Bull’s memories, and when he and Dorian are trapped together by a fallen pillar, Dorian helps him deal.

a soft place to land (Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dorian/Iron Bull, Oneshot, Complete) When a letter from his father sets him off, Dorian turns to Bull for a distraction.

Always Good at Bad Ideas (Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dorian/Iron Bull, Oneshot, Complete) Bull gets injured fighting a dragon, which leaves Dorian frantic enough to blurt out the one thing he was trying to keep to himself.

Flashpoint (Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dorian/Iron Bull, Oneshot, Complete) “One time he got so excited he set the curtains on fire.”

4. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yes, always! I’ve seen various opinions on whether authors should, but to me, engaging with and getting excited with readers is half the fun and half the point. I also just really want people to know how much it means to me not only that they read, but that they take the time to leave a comment. Comments are hard to write. I completely sympathize with that, sometimes you just don’t know what to say or how to say it, and I absolutely don’t begrudge anyone that doesn’t. It just means a lot to me when people do, even when it’s literally just “This was cool!” or something, and I want them to know that it’s appreciated!

5. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Hmmm. I guess that sort of depends on your definition of angsty. None of them have directly tragic endings, it’s just not in me to write that way, but I have one or two with open or less definitely, obviously happy endings. The rarepair DA2 oneshot I wrote for Merrill/Orana, Counting the Cost, has the most open ending, left completely up to interpretation. The Inception AU DAI fic I wrote for Dorian/Bull, In the Shadow of Dreams, has what I think of as an optimistic ending, and less a happy one. I tried to end that one with more romance, but it just didn’t fit the tone of the rest of the fic, so a quiet ending that signals a road to recovery was what I chose instead.

6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

Most all of my oneshots have pretty happy endings. I guess I’m tempted say A Line in the Sand, my Deacon/MacCready start-from-scratch slow burn novel, just because it goes from antagonists to lovers and has the longest road with the most earned happy ending. I feel like the long struggle to get there makes it feel happier.

7. Do you write crossovers? If so, what’s the craziest one you’ve written?

Not really. Instead I’m sometimes tempted into AUs based on other media, but not full blown crossovers with actual different characters meeting. Even then, I’m really picky in what I enjoy. I’ve only written one, the Inception AU for Dragon Age that I mentioned above. Honestly, it requires no knowledge of Inception at all. I really just stole a bunch of concepts from it and then made my own modernized Thedas around them.

8. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Thankfully no! I’ve received one or two kind of odd comments, but otherwise I’ve been very lucky and everyone’s been really nice.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Hell yeah! I’ve written many kinds, really, whatever I feel like or whatever fits the fic. I’ve done plenty of your typical smut. I branched out into light BDSM with several of my Dorian/Bull fics, as well as waxplay and praise kink. I’ve also done some roleplay in the vein of “established relationship pretending to be strangers meeting at a bar” for Deacon/MacCready with By Any Other Name.

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of.

11. Have you ever had a fic translated?

I have! Two of my Dorian/Bull fics, Wishing Stars and No Patron Saint of Silent Restraint, both by the same lovely person: landanding on AO3. I don’t think I stopped flailing for a solid day when I got the request for permission either time.

12. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Not since pre-AO3 days, beyond collaborating in a tabletop setting. I’m not completely opposed to the idea but it would have to be someone I felt really, really comfortable with and with whom I have really good communication. I’m really particular about my writing, and I’d need to know someone’s emotional comfort level with trading and changing and even eliminating ideas.

13. What’s your all-time favourite ship?

Oh god that’s honestly really hard. I’ve written the most for Dorian/Bull and that ship will always have a special place in my heart. But I did write my first full-length novel for Deacon/MacCready, and they’ve already got me in the middle of my second. So they’re the ship that taught me I could do that, and they’re my beloved rarepair. There are a few more I absolutely love, but I think those are my top two right now.

14. What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

Definitely Uprising. It was the first time I tried longform fic, and it was meant to be an entire retelling of DA2 with Velanna as the Justice-bearing character, rather than Anders, because after learning the developers almost took DA2 in that direction, I couldn’t get it out of my head. I had a lot of plans for it, for how Justice might develop differently, for what it might have looked like if elves had been more of the battleground issue instead of mages vs. templars, for some angsty bittersweet long distance Nathaniel/Velanna and some complicated Fenris/Hawke and Merrill/Orana. But I drifted away from Dragon Age fandom in interest a long time ago, and I’m not sure I’ll ever get the steam back for it. I’m proud of how far I did get, though.

15. What are your writing strengths?

I feel pretty confident with dialogue, I can usually make a scene flow with it pretty well and I spend a lot of time trying to be meticulous about character voice. I’ve gotten a lot of positive feedback on my descriptions, which I appreciate and wouldn’t have considered a strength, but my readers have been kind. I think I’m pretty good at including body language, too, though maybe to a fault.

16. What are you writing weaknesses?

Much as people have been kind on the feedback, I really feel like action scenes are a weakness for me. I don’t enjoy writing them and I struggle a lot to make them feel like they’re flowing over just bulletpointing. I also feel like I struggle to make them exciting. I feel like I struggle with exposition scenes as well, and keeping them interesting over info-dumping.

17. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I’m generally in favor of including them, but with the caution of doing thorough research if it’s not a language I speak. I shy away from it if I can’t be completely sure it’s accurate, because I don’t want to risk putting off a native speaker reader, or saying/doing something offensive. I’d expand that to include anything about another culture, really. For example, I’ve been slowly picking away at writing a Fallout fic for my Sole Survivor Anthony and Preston, and part of what has been slow going is just making sure I’m getting Anthony’s culture right. His parents immigrated from Vietnam, and I want his experiences with them and with his culture to be as accurate and respectful as possible, not falling into any stereotypes but also being allowed to be complicated.

18. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Depends on what we’re measuring. The first fandom I ever wrote fic for of any kind was Sailor Moon. The first fandom I actually put fic on the internet for was Lord of the Rings, on good old fanfiction.net. The first fandom I published on AO3 for was Dragon Age.

19. What’s your favourite fic you’ve written?

God this is such a hard question to answer, my feelings on my writing change so often. I think it’s hard for A Line in the Sand not to be my favorite for the reasons I’ve already mentioned, it’s my first successful novel-length fic, I accomplished a lot with it and learned a lot from it, and it’s a rarepair I got to kind of develop from scratch in my own way.

But if I look back at my whole repertoire so far, just to branch out from the usual answer, I’d say I’m also really fond of To Have and to Hold, which was the first time I ever participated in a minibang, or really any kind of writing challenge. It’s a Dorian/Bull established relationship fic set during Trespasser, and it’s kind of a meditation on Dorian’s past and present and how they’ve shaped his feelings on love and commitment and marriage, all while he’s trying to decide his future. I’m proud of how it came out, and I think my Dorian voice still holds up okay. Plus I had two incredible artists working with me who put together stunning work for it, and how could I not be super grateful for that?

It’s funny, most of the top ones up there for kudos are ones that I don’t personally think are my best, it’s a lot of my very early offerings for Dorian/Bull that I think I could improve on a lot of if I tackled them now. I’m grateful people like them but I feel like they’re more an accident of timing, being published early in the ship’s popularity.

#writing tag #writing memes #my writing

8 notes · View notes