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oumakokichi · 3 years

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So what do you think of Kaede and Kokichi's relationship? And if Kaede remained the protagonist how do you think it would change?

Considering it’s Kaede’s birthday today I think this is a really fun question to come back to!

Kaede is an absolutely amazing character, and I love how different her relationships with the rest of the cast feel from Saihara’s. She and Ouma have an especially interesting friendship in their FTEs together (one of Kaede’s FTEs with Ouma might be one of my favorite FTEs ever, really), so I don’t mind going a little more in-depth on my thoughts about their dynamic, as well as about how that dynamic and the story itself might’ve changed if Kaede had remained the protagonist!

Warning for spoilers as always, though I’m pretty sure most people know about the chapter 1 twist by now.

I think one of my absolute favorite things about Kaede is just how easy it is to get attached to her in such a short amount of time. She’s only around for the prologue and a single chapter, but despite that (or rather, because of the sheer length of the chapters in ndrv3, which tend to be much longer than dr1 or sdr2’s chapters), we still get to see so many different sides of her and just how complex of a character she really is. And I think that’s largely the reason for her continued popularity to this day: Kaede might not stay around for long, but we still really feel like we know her by the end of it.

And really, I think that’s pretty similar to how the actual characters feel about Kaede themselves. Despite how short her time is with all of them, she leaves such a powerful, lasting impression, even after her death. This is a pretty big change from previous DR games, where the chapter 1 culprits especially tend to suffer a pretty big lack of relevance or relationship to other characters in later chapters. Often times the victims are at least somewhat memorable (Maizono and the Impostor both at least come up a few times in their respective games), but characters like Leon or Teruteru just don’t feel like they have much of an impact on the other characters or the plot itself after their trials are finished.

This is totally different from Kaede, whose positive outlook and outgoing attitude already makes her fairly likable to most of the others, but who also openly invites the others to rely on her once she establishes herself as a leader figure fairly quickly in chapter 1. Most of the other characters latch onto her almost immediately, either because she seems so reliable and helpful (Saihara and Tenko in particular seem to like this about her), or because they can’t help but respect her and what she’s trying to do for the group (characters like Momota, who really values group cooperation, come to mind).

Personally, I think Ouma fell into the latter category. He and Kaede have something of a complicated relationship almost right from the get-go in chapter 1, but it’s still pretty clear that Ouma did respect Kaede a lot and recognized that she had the group’s best interests at heart, even if he didn’t always agree with her methods.

Likewise, I think Kaede was somewhat curious about Ouma and really wanted to get along with him, despite how difficult he could be. We see in Ouma’s introduction, both in the demo and the actual game, that Kaede clearly recognizes on some level that part of his annoying attitude is really just his way of teasing others, and that he doesn’t seem particularly malicious. More specifically, she describes him as “having a childish streak that makes him hard to hate,” which is a pretty spot-on description of Ouma in a nutshell. In short, she knew he was annoying and childish (on purpose, most of the time) but she definitely didn’t think of him as evil or cruel. This may in part also be because she didn’t live long enough to see him embrace the fake villain routine by the end of chapter 4, of course.

Ouma has a few teasing remarks throughout most of the game, but it’s not really until the death road of despair is discovered that he and Kaede butt heads for the very first time. This is because of a big, fundamental difference between their ideologies: while both of them very much have the group’s best interests at heart, they completely disagree when it comes to whether it’s worth it to cooperate as a team or not.

By the end of the game, Ouma is extremely paranoid, refusing to cooperate with absolutely anyone unless it’s out of some mixture of chance and necessity (such as working with Momota in chapter 5). He keeps all his cards close to the chest, and refuses to confide in or trust any of his remaining classmates, believing it’s fully possible any of them could be the ringleader.

But before the events of chapter 4, we see that he’s actually not opposed to the idea of selective cooperation. He strikes up a tentative collaboration with Miu early on, commissioning her to create some extremely useful inventions with the intent of using them to try and end the killing game. He also extends an invitation of cooperation to both Kaede (in one of her FTEs) and Saihara (in chapter 4, in the parlor of the VR world), though he goes about this in such a sly, underhanded, and off-putting way that both of them shoot his offer down flat. Even he’s not beyond the idea of teaming up with people he perceives as “useful” or “smart,” as long as it’s a much smaller, one-on-one effort rather than trusting or working with the entire group.

By contrast, Kaede is someone who believes that group unity is almost a necessity if they want to escape the killing game. This is very much in line with the role she establishes for herself as a leader. Unlike characters like Momota, who has always sort of longed to embrace a “hero” role, or Saihara, who is considerably more awkward and unwilling to be a leader because of how guilty he feels, Kaede’s role is much more about boosting and maintaining the group’s morale.

This is lampshaded several times by the classical music pieces that she references, often in an attempt to either clam the others down or fire them up at the idea of working together and escaping. It’s also a fantastic little clue that her own positive outlook is something a bit more crafted than it seems on the surface; she always tries to be optimistic about things and face her problems head-on, but that’s in large part because she tries to energize herself and present that reliable, dependable persona to the rest of the group. In short, she believes that if she reveals her own uncertainty or lack of faith in her plans, the rest of the group’s trust and morale will fall too.

Like I mentioned, this difference in their outlook is really what begins to cause problems for them once they discover the death road of despair in chapter 1. Kaede sees the tunnel as their one opportunity to escape without having to rely on the killing game itself; even if it’s extremely difficult and damn near impossible to get through it, the chance of injury is a risk she’s willing to take, no matter how many times they have to start over. But Ouma disagrees with this mindset and criticizes her in front of the entire group, pointing out how everyone else is already exhausted and even injured, and saying that she has no right to make that decision for the rest of them.

He even goes a step further and accuses her of strong-arming the rest of them by “denying them the right to give up in an impossible situation.” He claims that by positing herself as an inspirational figure, she has the “moral high-ground” no matter what the rest of them do or say, and clearly doesn’t think it’s possible for them to continue down the death road without someone getting seriously injured, or worse.

These harsh words really take Kaede aback, especially since most of the rest of the group seems to more or less agree with Ouma. She’s extremely hurt—not just by the fact that no one seems to really want to keep going with her plan, but also, I think, because she felt as if Ouma was right on some level. In my opinion, this is why she cries once she’s alone in her room later: because she did feel as though she’d forced everyone else to go along with an unreasonable plan. It’s the first time that we really see the cracks in her leader persona beginning to show, as well as the self-doubt that she carries.

I honestly think many people who dislike Ouma on their first playthrough of the game may have started here, right at this moment. Because so much of this seems to be fairly black-or-white initially—Kaede is presented as the unequivocally good heroine, trying to get everyone to work together and escape, and Ouma by contrast seems mean and unreasonable for arguing with her in front of everyone. We’re not supposed to linger on the fact that he makes several good points about everyone else’s safety and exhaustion because how he goes about it is off-putting and unlikable.

Not only that, but we as first-time players aren’t supposed to know about all the similarities that Ouma and Kaede actually have in common, despite their differences on the matter of group cooperation. We’re not supposed to know just yet that they both want to save the group, no matter what it takes, or that both of them are willing to go to extreme, sometimes morally grey measures in order to try and stop the killing game. We’re not supposed to know right away that Ouma can be every bit as self-sacrificing as Kaede, despite the selfish things that he says in front of the others, or that when push comes to shove, Kaede is willing to lie almost as much as he is.

We don’t know any of that, initially—which is why that scene hits so hard and sets Ouma up to be so unpleasant. But I think going back on a replay and evaluating it again is pretty interesting specifically because of all these similarities that I’ve listed. The fact that they clash here is especially interesting, given the sort of roles they embody to the rest of the group, with Kaede deliberately choosing to be someone that the entire group relies on and finds trustworthy, while Ouma later sets himself up to become a villain who’s hated by everyone. And despite this, their goals are largely one and the same: expose the ringleader and end the killing game.

I think it’s specifically because Kaede realized she couldn’t continue pushing everyone to do the things she wanted them to, no matter how badly she wanted everyone to cooperate and escape together, and that’s ultimately why she turns to Plan B when she hears from Saihara about the bookshelf hiding the ringleader’s lair in the library. And for all that she does want to trust and cooperate with everyone else, she actually goes about this plan in the most Ouma-like way possible: by doing everything herself and without telling anyone her real intentions, not even Saihara.

Something I especially like about Kaede as a character is just how nuanced she is. Because she is simultaneously the brave, trustworthy, outgoing protagonist that we see her as, but she’s also so, so much more than that. She’s fiercely determined and cares about everyone else, yes, but it’s also because she cares so much that she’s willing to do things like lie and attempt murder behind everyone else’s back.

If we look at the audition videos as any sort of clue as to what the characters might’ve been like before the start of the game, I do think there was a somewhat more skeptical, cynical side of Kaede deep down that didn’t quite trust other people—and that’s all the more reason she wanted to trust them and work together with all of them, because she knew exactly how hard it was to do so. It’s such an interesting contrast from Ouma, who could easily have used all his lies and charm to cooperate with people if he wanted to, but who instead continually pushes people away because of his skepticism, all the while pretending to act completely arrogant and self-assured in his plans. Deep down, I think both of them were much more vulnerable than they were ever willing to show in front of other people.

And I think by the end of chapter 1, Ouma became more or less aware of that side of Kaede, once she confesses everything she tried to do to end the killing game. Prior to this, I personally think Ouma still very much liked and respected her guts and her attempts at leading the group, but that he ultimately thought she was doomed by her reliance on trust and cooperation when they didn’t even know who the ringleader was within their group. But I think that after hearing just how far she was willing to go to stop the killing game, including but not limited to lying to everyone else and going behind their backs with her own plan, he couldn’t help but respect her even more. Despite his accusations that she was too soft or naïve for trusting everyone else, her actual attempted solution was far closer to his own outlook than he initially gave her credit for.

This is why, just before Kaede is about to be executed, Ouma drops all of his usual acts and facades with her and gives her a sincere goodbye, telling her that she “wasn’t boring.” And this is really the highest compliment someone like Ouma can give: she did take him by surprise and surpass all his expectations from her, and I do believe he was genuinely sad to see her go when she attempted such a huge sacrifice for everyone else’s sakes.

Truly, the only part of her plan that I think he disagreed with was the act of (attempted) murder in and of itself. He felt that despite her good intentions, she had “crossed a line” that shouldn’t be crossed, and that she fell into the ringleader’s trap the moment the idea of murder crossed her mind. Considering how much DICE’s “no murder” taboo guided Ouma throughout the game, it’s not surprising at all that this is where he disagreed with Kaede. Though ironically, he himself crosses the same line in chapter 4 when he decides the only possible solution to Miu’s attempt on his life is to kill her himself, and therefore winds up getting his hands dirty without ever directly committing murder, much like Kaede herself.

Questioning how they might’ve gotten along if Kaede had actually lived past chapter 1 and continued being the game’s protagonist is interesting, mainly because so many factors would change as a result. Kaede and Saihara are so fundamentally different as protagonists, and Kaede herself is much more in line with what we would expect from a Hope’s Peak protagonist instead. Kodaka himself has described her in an interview as being extremely similar to Asahina, and I personally think she’s something of a combination between Asahina’s outgoing attitude and Maizono’s carefully crafted façade (not to mention moral ambiguity). So it stands to reason that the game and its themes wouldn’t quite be the same if Kaede were still the protagonist.

On the one hand, I do think there would be interesting potential for a possible alliance between her and Ouma, especially given how similar they could both be. Ouma himself proposes such an alliance to her in one of his FTEs, though she does get angry and shoots him down, as I mentioned earlier. But it’s interesting to consider if Kaede might’ve been more willing to cooperate in smaller, one-on-one alliances if she had attempted her plan in chapter 1 and failed without getting executed for it.

There’s also the fact that Ouma claims to remember her and everyone else adamantly in his FTEs with her, even going so far as to claim that she and everyone else forgot about him, even though he never forgot about them. It’s unclear whether he’s referring to his memories from before the game still being intact (which is likely, since he’s pretty skeptical of the flashback lights right away), or if there’s some other explanation for it, but personally, I don’t think it can be dismissed as a complete lie. Even if Kaede herself accuses him of lying and making it all up, he goes uncharacteristically blank and claims that “even he’s not that good at lying.”

This adds huge potential to Kaede sticking around, as there could easily be an underlying mystery element. In addition to the trials themselves and the mystery of the outside world, it’d be very possible to explore their dynamic further, as well as why Ouma said the things he did and if he was actually telling the truth about knowing her and everyone else from before. Kaede is absolutely persistent enough that I feel like she would’ve pressed him for details about this, especially once it became clear in the main plot that their memories were unreliable.

On the other hand, it’s really unclear if Ouma would’ve still been willing to offer that alliance to Kaede once she had attempted to commit murder. Assuming the events of chapter 1 stay more or less the same and the only difference is that Kaede survives instead of getting executed, this raises some potential problems with Ouma actually working together with her or trusting her. She did, as he puts it, “cross the line”—even if her murder attempt wasn’t successful, Ouma claims that she was already too far gone the moment she even considered murder as a possible solution. This could definitely cause another clash of opinions between them, especially as Ouma is much too paranoid to work directly with anyone who he thinks might kill him.

Another potential source of conflict in my opinion is the Hope’s Peak flashback light in chapter 5. Unlike Saihara, who deals primarily with questions of “truth or lies” and is ultimately able to see through Tsumugi’s false ultimatum in chapter 6 with the choice of either the “hope ending” or “despair ending,” Kaede is, as I mentioned, much more in line with what you’d expect from a Hope’s Peak protagonist. She’s extremely smart of course, but she has a bit of a reckless, headstrong streak where she tends to act based on emotion rather than reason, and this could get her into quite a lot of trouble once Tsumugi started rewriting everyone’s memories in chapter 5.

Saihara was able to see that both of the choices Tsumugi presented in the final trial were bullshit and would ultimately keep the cycle of Danganronpa ongoing, but I’m not entirely sure if Kaede would realize the same thing, or even if she did eventually realize it, I’m not sure it would’ve been in time to stop it. Because of her self-sacrificing nature, I personally think she would’ve chosen to be one of the sacrifices for the sake of “hope,” much like Amami presumably did in season 52. This ultimately means that Kaede sticking around might have ultimately led to a “bad end” of sorts, where even if the rest of the group went free aside from her and one other sacrifice, Danganronpa itself never gets dismantled and lives to see another season.

The only possible way I see for Kaede to avoid falling into this trap and making this choice is if enough of her classmates rubbed off on her or helped her see things in less black-or-white terms like “hope” or “despair,” and in more nuanced shades of grey instead. But considering how completely fooled almost everyone was in the actual events of the game, it’s difficult to say if this would happen. She would definitely need to talk and debate with someone who viewed the flashback lights a lot more skeptically, whether it was Saihara or Ouma (or maybe even Angie), before she could reach the truth about what Tsumugi and Team Danganronpa were really after.

This analysis has gotten pretty long by this point, so I’ll just wrap things up by saying that I really do love Kaede and Ouma’s friendship, and I think they had more potential of getting along than either of them might’ve realized in canon. Despite their fundamental differences, both of them were two characters who went farther than almost anyone else in trying to stop the killing game, and both of them weren’t afraid of getting their hands dirty if necessary. I think the fact that Ouma claims to remember Kaede and everyone else from before the killing game is super interesting, and I would’ve absolutely loved to see it touched on more if Ouma had lived longer.

All in all, Kaede is such an amazing, morally grey character who really helps to establish what we can expect from the rest of the game, and I think that’s part of what makes her so memorable. Maybe one day we’ll get some sort of DR:IF equivalent where we get a semi-canon look into a scenario where everyone lives, and hopefully there we could see not only more of Kaede being a protagonist figure, but also more of her interactions with Ouma and everyone else.

#danganronpa #new danganronpa v3 #ndrv3 #kaede akamatsu #kokichi ouma #ndrv3 spoilers //#my meta #okay to reblog #lamekit

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animepopheart · 3 years

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Wonder Egg Priority, Episode 7: The Scars to Prove It (or, Love for the Moms, the Cutters, and the Drunks)

Wonder Egg Priority (WEP) has felt like the successor to Puella Magi Madoka Magica in many ways throughout its run, but in episode seven, it almost went full Madomagi by driving the stakes to their utmost height—to the death of one of the main characters. But as has been consistent with WEP, what it did instead, after some moments of true worry, is to instead deliver hope in the face of pain, resolve against overwhelming circumstances, and strength in weakness.

The series returns to Rika Kawai’s story in this episode, which starts with her turning 14. And on her 14th birthday, after leaving her hungover mother halfway asleep at the bar she works at and which they call home, Rika opens up to the rest of the girls, explaining that she doesn’t know her father (it could be any of five possibilities, or even more) and her mom won’t reveal any further information about him. As she trashes her mom, Neiru and Momoe are incredulous, which only drives Rika away from them. And though Ai goes to comfort her, Rika is in a terrible state of mind as she enters her next fight.

This was a difficult episode to watch. They’ve all been somewhat hard since the series never shies away from brutal and violent situations impacting young people, but I found myself squirming especially here as Rika’s cutting takes center stage. At one point, she decides to cut herself and it seems certain she will, before her turtle-like partner, Mannen, prevents it from happening.

Challenging, also, is how strained Rika’s relationship is with her mother, who’s life revolves around drink—alcohol both pays the bills and helps her forget how miserable her existence is. And in the midst of all the bad behavior in this episode—the usual Rika talk, her mom’s alcoholism and neglect, and the selfishness all around, one begins to feel deeply sorrowful for the Kawai women. Yes, Rika is often obnoxious, but her family life is in shambles, and she still exhibits goodness, including a curiously gentle relationship with Mannen. And Rika’s mother is a tragic figure, used by men and quite on the road to an early death, it would seem, unable to lift herself out of the gutter as she tries, in her own sloppy way, to protect and reach out to her daughter.

It’s in this hopelessness that Rika turns again to cutting, and then finds herself tempted by something even more dangerous. Her foe this time is a religious leader who led the egg, a follower who continues to believe in him, to commit suicide as a way of “connecting” with the universe (Heaven’s Gate, anyone?). Rika decries the ghoul as a charlatan, but is confronted with her own weakness when the egg shows her own scarred arm to Rika, revealing that she can tell that the latter cuts just like she did. And then she explains that Rika can be released from this pain.

The scars, evidence of what Rika does to cope with her pain, now become the weakness that they truly are, revealing how hopeless she feels, and how powerless she is against the mechanizations of her family life. And defeated, she’s about to allow herself to be killed when a surprising savior comes along—a turtle. Mannen attacks the spiritual leader, to Rika’s surprise as well, until she remembers that he has imprinted on her. Rika is Mannen’s mom, and as he did when he prevented her from cutting, Mannen is again protecting his mother.

The conclusion that Rika reaches is unusual but inspiring. She understands, in this moment, the need to protect one’s mom, finally admitting to herself in a de facto way that maybe her mother is in need of love, too. It’s funny to consider the need that mothers have for love since culturally and socially, they’re always seen as the providers of it. But of course, they need it in return, especially when they falter. My own mother is sick right now, and I think of the support I need to give her and the lack of that I’ve provided through the years.

Warning: Screenshot involving cutting after the jump.

My mother was a good one, however. Rika’s, on the other hand, has struggled with the charge, which reminds me of a story from one of my favorite books, The Ragamuffin Gospel, about another bad parent—a far worse one, in fact, and a real one. I’ll quote part of the passage from chapter seven:

“‘Our daughter Debbie wanted a pair of earth shoes for her Christmas present. On the afternoon of December 24, my husband drove her downtown, gave her sixty dollars, and told her to buy the best pair of shoes in the store. That is exactly what she did. When she climbed back into the pickup truck her father was driving, she kissed him on the cheek and told him he was the best daddy in the whole world. Max was preening himself like a peacock and decided to celebrate on the way home. He stopped at the Cork ‘n’ Bottle–that’s a tavern a few miles from our house and told Debbie he would be right out. It was a clear and extremely cold day, about twelve degrees above zero, so Max left the motor running and locked both doors from the outside so no one could get in. It was a little after three in the afternoon and…’

Silence.

‘Yes?’

The sound of heavy breathing crossed the recreation room. Her voice grew faint. She was crying. ‘My husband met some old Army buddies in the tavern. Swept up in euphoria over the reunion, he lost track of time, purpose, and everything else. He came out of the Cork ‘n’ Bottle at midnight . He was drunk. The motor had stopped running and the car windows were frozen shut. Debbie was badly frostbitten on both ears and on her fingers. When we got her to the hospital, the doctors had to operate. They amputated the thumb and forefinger on her right hand. She will be deaf for the rest of her life.'”

Max—a real person, mind you—was a successful, well-liked man, but his drinking problem led to an unconscionable decision and profound failure as a parent. And yet, this book is about grace, an idea which to humans feels unjust, but which has the power to change hearts and tear down walls, sometimes literally.

Could Max be given grace? Could Rika’s mother? If not directly, she’s done her own physical damage to her daughter in the form of those cutting scars (difficult and perhaps triggering images below). As mentioned earlier, the egg that she’s helping knows her pain and insists that letting go of everything, including life itself, is the way to peace. After all, to a young, suffering girl, what else could these scars mean?

But in the midst of giving up, in the moment that she actually capitulates (and this episode takes you 99% to the edge, both in the cutting scene and in the apparent death scene), Rika experiences something powerful. She experiences grace.

Have you ever been challenged to forgive someone when you don’t want to, when you feel completely in the right? Maybe it’s easy for you, but perhaps it isn’t. The girls surrounding Rika experience differing degrees of this with her sometimes maniacal and often hurtful behavior. Ai forgives easily. Momoe gets fired up and then equally seeks to make peace. And Neiru…well, Neiru holds onto “justice” more than love (setting up what I imagine will be the most powerful transformation in the series of all, in true Homura fashion). But in the moment that Rika is about to give her life, the girls yell out their love for her, even Neiru, and then more profoundly, without any hesitation, Mannen puts his own life on the line to stop the death from occurring. Rika has already given up, but this turtle hasn’t—not for his mother, whom he loves very much.

And experiencing that love from a different angle, Rika is changed just a bit. She begins to see her weakness as a “mother,” failing her turtle-child, and thinks of her own mom who is overwhelmed by hurt and a failure as well. And if just a little—for as the final scenes indicate, it is just a little—the path toward forgiveness begins.

But a little bit of grace is like a little bit of a flood—its power overwhelms, and it defeats the enemy, whether that means bitterness, a physical person (or manifestation of one), or the devil himself.

When Rika returns from the event, having killed the cult leader monster, it’s interesting to note that she isn’t a wholly different person. She’s changing little by little. And her scars remain. In fact, as she admits, she probably will cut herself again. But strangely enough, those scars now represent something different. They show someone trying—failing, yes, sometimes considerably and maybe very often—but trying, and only able to try because love was shown her, and through that, she is now able to show love as well.

You may have such scars in your life, physical or emotional, battered by the world and by people. I hope that you can develop relationships that help you heal as well, and that you’ll also remember that there are other scars which are meaningful to you, but which you cannot see on your person, scars that were borne out of a desire to heal you. Christ took the piercings, on his head, hands, feet, and side, so that while your heart and flesh may be cut, your soul need not be. And through his wounds, you may be healed.

The grace offered through Christ is one that, as he explains about everlasting water at the well to the Samaritan, for now and through eternity. The egg seeks peace forever by dying, but Jesus, unlike the cult leader, died for us so that we may not have to. He took the nails, the cross, and the spear so that we don’t have to inflict pain on ourselves and receive the punishment of our actions against him and others. He is our scar.

That’s grace. That’s the power that it has. And it can reach anyone—even a terrible dad, an alcoholic mom, a tempestuous child, and, and most significantly and personally—you.

If you’re suffering and in pain, maybe self-inflicted, we encourage you to explain such to a parent or trusted adult and ask for help. It’s a difficult first step, but one that will help you begin recovering. And we also advise that you turn to Christ for help—in prayer, community, and scripture. He provides people to us that will aid us in our times of need, as well as himself and the Holy Spirit if we are believers.

Additionally, there’s a scene in this episode where triumphant, Rika concludes that cutting is okay. That’s said in the context of her moving forward bit by bit and forgiving herself for her failures, even the upcoming ones. That’s an important lesson, though we must certainly be careful not to let it be a license to continue cutting with impunity.

Wonder Egg Priority can be streamed through Funimation. Read more of our articles by signing up for our weekly newsletter.

#wonder egg priority #rika kawai #wep #pmmm #Christianity #tw cutting #blog

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dorimena · 3 years

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𝕭𝖆𝖇𝖊, 𝕴'𝖒 𝖋𝖎𝖘𝖙 𝖋𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖜𝖎𝖙𝖍 𝖋𝖎𝖗𝖊

𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔯𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔢𝔯; Todoroki Shoto

𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱; 1.8k

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰; fluff, angst, media slander, body criticism, mentioned dieting, crying

𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔞𝔤𝔰; Endeavor is a slightly better dad, slight self-hate, implied BakuTodo

𝔰𝔦𝔡𝔢𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔢; this was kind of rushed, so it’s not proofread yet. I’ve taken some ideas from our conversation!

It happened all too suddenly.

It wasn’t supposed to happen all too suddenly.

It wasn’t supposed to happen at all.

If there’s a reason that justifies why you ignore the media and rightfully hate most talk shows, then what’s happening in front of you should be a good one.

Because Shoto looks like he’s about to… do nothing about it. He’s not really speaking or reacting much, simply staring at the screen with such a dull light on his face, resignation showing itself as he struggles to keep himself composed, keep himself scarce of any emotion but neutrality.

He’s failing terribly, but he wouldn’t know, and you wouldn’t tell him. It was meant to be a relaxing Thursday evening, where Fuyumi sent over some food and Natsuo ever-so-kindly sent a six-pack of beer with her to help you and Shoto unwind from such a hectic week full of arrests, busts, investigations, interrogations.

It feels like you’re somehow doing police work rather than your respectful ones, which is something you’d look into after figuring out why the media decided to suddenly talk about Shoto’s weight gain. It’s nothing new for you, for him, for your friends, for your family, for anyone who knows Shoto. Most people assume he’s picking up more mass to form bigger muscles, others simply enjoy the new Shoto, and the kids are beginning to no longer go up to him to bully him for the weird capsules around his waist, but rather to invite him to play with them.

Shoto was beginning to feel so much more comfortable in his skin, he was beginning to love his new body and the small changes that occur as he continues to slowly tone his muscles. He’s even accepted not to gain back his muscular form, simply keeping in mind the change in dynamic between him and the general public.

No one’s pointed a finger at him.

No one’s talked badly of him.

No one’s ever criticized him over his change.

Everyone was just glad prohero Shoto was fine and recovering well from his unexpected injuries.

So watching how these two talk show hosts are talking shit about his weight gain and ridiculing the way he looks in his clothes is making your blood boil.

On the screen, there are two pictures: the one on the left is a recent picture that made it on the newspaper as people thanked Shoto for saving a few kids from a terrible house fire; the one on the right is a picture from when Shoto was 16.

How could they be stupid enough to compare a teenager’s body with an adult’s?!

It’s like comparing a five year old’s drawing with a professional drawing, yet they’re ridiculing and nitpicking the professional and praising the child’s drawing.

It’s a weird analogy in your mind, but it’s the only thing that tries to help you understand why they think it’s necessary to suddenly bring up something so personal, so private, from someone?

When they switch to an improvised interview with Endeavor, Shoto shrinks a bit into the couch, leaning more into your side as you both listen to what his father had to say with such personal questions about his youngest son’s ‘recent’ weight gain.

Shoto knows his father’s opinion: Endeavour doesn’t care. But not in a ‘fuck you’ type of way, but in a ‘it’s your life, and if you’re happy, so be it.’

He’s changed quite a lot from when Shoto was younger, yet watching the way his father’s eyebrows furrowed in anger and snarl at the question had Shoto wonder if his father really isn’t bothered by his weight gain.

Slight weight gain, might you need to remind him.

But instead of listening to Endeavour criticize his son and agree with the commentaries, he yelled at the reporter for being so selfish and careless, how he’s keeping Endeavour from continuing his task of making sure recently rescued citizens are doing well or not.

And when pushed further for an answer, the older man sighs and explains how even though Shoto’s changed, he doesn’t see it in his weight, but rather his person and strength, a change in power, to which he’s proud of and only ever concerns him other than the general well-being of his son.

The talk show hosts don’t seem to be happy with the sappy response, probably waiting for the hero to maybe help feed the drama. So, they take matters into their own hands: try convincing the audience the number one prohero is probably only lying to save his image and pride.

Now that hurt a lot, seeing how they’re trying to change the context and make Endeavor into the asshole bastard of a father he stopped being time ago.

But it was enough to make Shoto stand up and walk silently to your bedroom.

You know what he’s doing, know what he’s probably thinking as he stares and scrutinizes his image in the mirror.

You mute the TV, rubbing a hand over your face as you head to the bedroom, frowning when you catch the way he subtly brushes away some tears. The more you watch, the more you feel like crying with him.

It’s so frustrating being a prohero, especially one admired by the media merely by his looks and status rather than talent and power.

He hasn’t done anything wrong to suddenly be bashed and hated on, to become such a joke and be ridiculed to the point his self-love and appreciation is thrown to burn in a trash can just so those pathetic celebrities can get a paycheck making people’s lives miserable.

Heck, there’s a prohero flaunting around about paying escorts to offer services at a party and they’re off the hook, apparently.

You can’t keep watching Shoto tear himself apart, not when it took so much patience, understanding, acceptance, appreciation, reassurance and love to build up his confidence again.

You don’t really speak, just go to the mirror and flip it over, stopping Shoto from glaring at himself, but it makes him finally let out a pained whimper, one full of dejection and hurt.

You got him quickly, wrapping your arms around him as his body shakes as held-back cries finally leave his system, doubt flooding his mind and insecurities coming back in full swing.

You manage to get you both to the bed with some awkward shuffling and lots of squirming, making sure his head is resting on your chest so that he hears your heartbeat while you brush his hair with your fingers, whispering and mumbling how he shouldn’t listen to them, that they’re lying, that their opinion doesn’t matter because they’re so unhappy and insecure about how confident he was.

How he’s a stronger person than they are for accepting and loving his body instead of succumbing to cheap plastic surgery to hide away his imperfections, which he has none.

How he’s a more beautiful person than they are for being so kind and generous to everyone that he sees, being polite and offering help where he sees they need.

How he’s a powerful person, not because he’s the son of Endeavor, but because he just carries his own influence over people, how they simply are drawn to him because of how he is and who he is personally, how naturally charming he is when he speaks and treats people.

You spill every confession, every praise, every single word you could think of to help sooth him from his hiccups, to ease him into tranquility while you both figure out how to carry on such harsh criticism about his body.

Shoto eventually starts laughing, shoulders shaking as he finishes wiping his tears. You’d be concerned, but knowing him, he must’ve associated this moment with something else.

And you are right.

“Remember when Bakugou came and bluntly told me how I’ve gained weight?”

“Yeah. You were ready to cry.”

“Yes, but I didn’t get to, because Bakugou directly told me, with no hesitation, how it makes me look healthier in an ‘odd’ way and how adorable I look. Later he threatened to feed me snacks if I ever think of strictly dieting.”

You nod, wondering where he’s getting at with this, not like it’s out of the blue.

“If a guy like Bakugou doesn’t see a problem with my weight gain, then, why did they?”

His voice went soft, quiet, as his question lingers in the air for some time before you shrug, holding him closer to your body.

“Maybe because they’ve never learned to love themselves, and you did because you’re a better person than they’ll ever be. You don’t ridicule anybody if you see a change, simply tell them about it and help them figure out how to fix it if they don’t want or like it.”

Shoto remains quiet, basking in the comforting silence as his head throbs a bit as a warning.

Pressing a palm into one of his eyes, he mumbles “do you think my father’s embarrassed of me?”

You hum, shaking your head immediately as you figure out your words.

“Your father seemed more embarrassed about how invasive these people are and how they were making him a fool rather than your newfound softness.”

You scratch Shoto’s head, playing with his hair as you try flipping the white strands to where the red strands lay.

“I think if your father were truly embarrassed, he would’ve forced you back into a diet a long time ago, or would’ve been around to monitor you. But he didn’t, because when he saw you after your accident, I heard him quietly thank the heavens that you’re safe and doing well rather than fuss about how your cheeks look fuller.”

Shoto tries to remember, but he was in the kitchen bothering his sister, but somewhat helped put the table when you guys went to visit for lunch a few months after his discharge.

But you’re right. His father would’ve done something sooner if his weight gain were an issue, but the old man didn’t. He even sent over some food and snacks from time to time, and still does, but a little less often. Whether it’d be because he caught wind of Shoto trying to slowly ease back with the sweets or because of the demand of his assistance in some missions.

You guys stay in bed, eventually falling asleep from the exhaustion of the random roller coaster the media decided to put you both in, more on Shoto than on you. But you went to sleep with a bit of ease, knowing Shoto’s at least trying to cheer himself up as well and realize the media’s opinion isn’t as valid to him as the opinion from those he loves and cares about.

But your sleep was interrupted when you heard your phone blaring in the living room. Shoto luckily is snuggling into his side of the bed, so you manage to walk quietly towards where your device sat and check the caller ID.

It’s Bakugou, and when you answer, he demands to know how Shoto is, how he took the bullshit those talk show hosts decided to spill and if he can pay a visit in the morning, wanting to check himself how the sleeping man is doing.

You’re sure Shoto will very much appreciate the hothead of his friend visiting.

#𝔖𝔬𝔣𝔱! 𝔖𝔥𝔬𝔱𝔬 #❀; purity #bnha fluff #todoroki shoto x reader #todoroki x reader #𝖙𝖔𝖉𝖔𝖗𝖔𝖐𝖎.𝖘

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ephemerlskies · 4 years

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constant craving 03 | jjk

⇢ pairing: jungkook x reader

[other members - seokjin]

⇢ genre: drabble series, ANGST, bestfriend!au, unrequited love, the same idiocy just in a different font

⇢ word count: 4k

⇢ warnings: explicit language, alcohol consumption (drunk jungkook makes his first and final appearance enjoy it while you can), vehicular misdemeanor (drive the speed limit kids), an all out emotional and verbal brawling, a lack of communication on one end and a communicational vomit on the other, seokjin appearance for about .02 seconds, the entirety of this is just.... angst

⇢ summary: your dates with Seokjin had become a somewhat consistent fixture in your schedule, however, jungkook's itinerary seemed to clash with yours when he called you after a night of drinking for reasons you assumed to be him helplessly pleading for a safe return home.

♪ playlist: constant craving - k.d. lang, bad religion - frank ocean, misunderstood - lucky daye, neu roses - daniel caesar ♪

╰ series index: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 (final)

a/n: whew, okay.... this was probably the most argumentative fic i have ever written so prepare yourself. i hope you all enjoy this god awfully angsty installment of the series! also, yes, jungkook is a sentimental drunk and you all know it

part three: i love you

It's true. It's always the biggest pills that are the most difficult to swallow. And if you could compare someone as elusive as Jungkook to anything, it would be the largest pill imaginable. The kind that hurts the first try, then when you drink half your body weight in water, the Jungkook-emblazoned pill forces down your esophagus no easier than the first gulp. You were still holding it in your mouth, pretending that pill wasn't about to dissolve and stain your mouth forever.

And that was the whole process, just to get over Jungkook. Because getting over him wasn't a one-step program. It was waking up everyday, training and retraining your mind not to think of him first thing in the morning. It was resisting the urge to press the send button on multiple texts and funny videos you knew would make him laugh. It was refusing his calls and every memory that would saunter in your mind and compel you to ask him to watch a movie or order takeout.

It was saying yes to Seokjin when he asked you on a date. And, it was doing your best to sever that instinct of yours to ask Jungkook for advice.

But old habits die hard, and this one still clung onto the bit of breath it wielded. That explained why your idiot of a best friend was sitting on your couch, offering half-hearted nods whenever you would walk out draped in a new outfit.

"Okay, this one?" You twirled around, as if doing so would make you any less skeptical of how you looked. And you were never one to scrutinize your appearance so closely, but this was the date. The one that might light the torch to a brighter romantic future and lead you to someone other than the man who could never be yours to begin with.

"Yeah. Cool." At this point, five outfits in, he wasn't paying any attention at all. He couldn't even bring himself to pretend, his eyes lazily fixed onto your dvd player.

"Jungkook, you didn't even look! Let me guess. You wanna play video games. Is that why you're giving fuck-me-eyes to my T.V. set?" You knew a laugh was far along, but you hoped that would get some sort of reaction out of him. Unfortunately, your words were barely registered for a good ten seconds, though, it felt much longer.

"Hm? Oh, sorry. Just tired, I guess." Jungkook said through barely parted lips. You knew when he couldn't even pronounce his words properly, something he took more seriously than others due to the hauntings of a certain speech impediment, there was definitely something wrong.

Things felt off from the moment he walked into your house. Judging from the way he avoided your hug, that alone suggested a sort of imbalance. It was a casual greeting exchanged between the two of you so often that when you lifted your arms to embrace him, it was born of reflexive association. Like Pavlov's dog, trained to hug him the moment you saw him. But the oddity of him almost discretely walking past you before any contact could be made wasn't where the tension bordered.

Following his arrival, he would have littered a few snarky remarks about how messy your kitchen was, while already scavenging through your fridge, just to get a rouse out of you. And Jungkook wouldn't call himself a connoisseur of all things fabric and fashion, but he surely would have a few thoughts consisting more than two-worded responses. But he just sat on your couch, armed with a face any poker player would commend, and gave you insincere cool's or nice's when need be.

"Okay, what's up? Is it Irene?" You sat down since taking a break to figure out what Jungkook was thinking felt better than continuing your self-absorbed fashion show.

"Kinda... We broke up. Well, she broke up with me or... I don't know. It was weird." It bothered you a bit too much that he didn't even look at you. But if he had, then you would have seen a film of red dousing his eyes.

"I'm so sorry, Kook. Is there anything I can do? Anything at all? Want me to egg her house?" This time, he did laugh. You felt relieved he could at least ease slightly back into his expressive self, even if it was just a fraction of what he usually was. A fraction of Jungkook was more than enough for you.

"Nah, no need to go to jail for me. It's not like I didn't see it coming, and apparently she felt the same. Whatever." He let out a sigh that sounded trapped in for a while, then sat up. "We have more important things to worry about."

"I'm sorry, but I don't believe that. Jungkook, literally a week ago you told me she was the love of your life! And now you're just like 'yeah, whatever, I saw it coming.'" You used your notorious 'man voice', which was just yours lowered a few octaves, knowing it would crack another smile along Jungkook's lips. "Come on, I know you love her. This must hurt a lot. I wish... I wish there was something I could do."

You knew exactly what you were doing. Self-sabotage under the guise of consoling your friend. Clearly, it was selfish and regressive to use Jungkook's heartbreak as a means to avoid doing what you could never do before, what you knew deep down you probably would never be able to do: swallow that pill. And what felt even more pathetic than that was the stale, yet persisting hope that he would ask you to stay.

And that's when reality gave you the most gutting and obvious sign. Jungkook was your best friend, the man you had to lug home when he was too drunk to drive, let alone speak coherently or stand. He was the person that buys you ice cream when you're sad, but just as quick to cancel plans with you when Irene needed him. He was just a friend. You'd never be the person he chose, and it nearly made you angry at him for not seeing it all this time.

So, what he said next made everything he was most likely unaware of all too clear to you.

"No, you go have fun. I'll just... chill here?" It was his avoidant way of asking to stay the night, because you knew him to never sleep alone when he had an ache in his heart. "Maybe raid your pantry and use your Netflix account to binge some shows?"

"Fine. Only 'cause I can't say no to you when you're like this." His smile was reimbursement enough for all the food you'd have to restock and the electricity bill that would be higher than usual.

But what he did next, you could almost never forgive him for. It was so subtle, as though it could have passed as an accident or an act he was trying to perform secretly, without any intention of you even noticing. And how could you not notice? The far too temporary and entirely disarming linger of his hand on yours.

Now, you were always one to decipher his most subtle mannerisms, but this one felt beyond the reins of your perceptiveness. It could have been a small gesture of a thank you, but the gentle, and what one could even describe as sentimental, way his skin pressed against yours bore no semblance of a mere expression of gratitude. And it wasn't possible this was a caress of love, because he was already low on currency in that field, spending it completely on Irene.

So, what was it?

How would you describe the way he rested his hand on yours, as if asking you to stay without words, yet punctuating it quick enough to justify it a coincidental form of contact, that your hand just happened to be where his hand was?

"Well, I'm gonna go eat through my problems." Jungkook stood up before you could bat away the wetness in your eyes from your momentary refusal to blink, as if that would somehow help you visualize the meaning of what just happened.

"Oh- Okay. I, um... I should get going." So you did. You walked out your door, and made a decision beyond the demands of your devotion to Jungkook.

Because it probably meant nothing, and he was your best friend, after all.

---

It was easy with Seokjin. And surprisingly enough, that wasn't a bad thing.

You had come to realize everyone craves that passionate kind of love because, in the movies, that's the blueprint for what love should feel like. But that's all it is, something pretty and shiny enough to work into a film. Make believe. And it could never extend beyond the realm of silver screens, where best friends don't magically fall in love and passion awarded more broken hearts than you could count.

Besides, your heart was worn.

See, your heart is a muscle. It works itself to the bone keeping you alive, willing your lungs to breathe, administering blood to each vein and so on. To strain it for someone who was already in love was functionally inefficient. The heart, like any other muscle, grows tired. It can exhaust itself the same way your hand aches after writing for too long.

You needed a break from the gripping emotional aerobics that is and was loving Jeon Jungkook. So, it sufficed that Seokjin was easy. No more overexertion, no more aches and pains and residual soreness occupying your chest, no more of any of that. Because you knew Seokjin liked you, which was safe and easy knowing there was no point mapping out the possible meanings of every inflected word or shrug or smile. They were simply words and shrugs and smiles with him.

And yet, the thing about giving your heart a 'break' is the period succeeding it. When you were finished resting, you knew who would be waiting for you. Who you would always wait for.

"___! Hello?! I can't hear you! It's too loud!" It wasn't really that loud, your idiot of a best friend was just that drunk. You couldn't tell what concerned you more, the fact that his hearing degenerated when he was, from the sound of it, seven shots deep or that this was the third of alcohol-induced call for this week.

"Where are you?" You asked through a sigh, eyes trained on your Twitter feed and ears occupied with the urgent voice blaring through the speaker phone.

And since it was the third time this week, you were not even half-amused by the repetitive stunt he was pulling.

"I don't know... I walked out and now I'm out and I don't know." The hiccup following his messy sentence was comically textbook 'too drunk'. “Hey, we should take a trip! We should, like, go somewhere!”

“The only place you should be going is home.”

“See, I would totally do that, but I have no idea where I am. Why are these street signs so hard to read?” The end and beginning of each word blended together, rendering that sentence one long, slurred word.

By now, the step by step plan synthesized by you had been memorized. And even though you labored your brain to rewire any feelings leaving you at his beck and call, it clearly hadn't been proficient since your keys had already been gathered and his whereabouts programmed in your GPS via his location services.

"You're so annoying." It might have been rude of you to want him to feel guilty, but it was just as rude of him to interrupt your one night off, which was supposed to be spent with Seokjin, with his intoxicated antics. "I'm coming to pick you up."

"Yo- u are? I love you sooo much. You're the best friend ever, ya know that?" Overly emotional professions was your que to drive fifteen miles over the speed limit so he didn't do something stupid enough to land himself in an ICU.

"Okay, I'm almost there. I think I see you. Wave for me?"

The slumped silhouette you were squinting at began to frantically throw its arms side to side, making you both laugh and pull over so he could drag himself into your passenger seat. And, if you were being honest, he looked better as the blackened shadow of himself.

Jungkook, in all his glory, had his shirt almost fully turned backwards, hair ruffled into a mess, and face as red as the time you and him laid on the beach until your skin punished you with a second degree burn. And all those factors didn't amount to how he smelled like he bathed for hours inside a hand sanitizer bottle.

"God, you're a mess, Jungkook." You said that as jokingly as possible, but meant the sternness embedded in each word. Jungkook was a mess, physically and mentally.

"Hey! You're judging me! Stop being th-o mean, ___." Whenever he was this drunk, his lisp made more appearances in his speech than when he wasn't.

You hated how easily it reminded you of when you were in middle school and he was still navigating and rehearsing through his speech patterns. In middle school, when he was the sweet boy with his only fault being his lisp, who gave you his hoodie and a compassionate smile upon meeting you because your current bully plotted the embarrassment of a lifetime with that piece of chocolate on your seat. In middle school, when Jungkook was the only person in your grade who was kind enough to be kind and true to his word when he pledged his loyalty as your best friend. Forever.

With just one word, you were that timid little middle schooler again, helplessly and unconditionally in love with Jungkook.

Hauling Jungkook, who was more muscle than bone and flesh, over to his door was an art form you had trained, practiced, and mastered about thirty or so times before this one. He weighed about twice as much as you could normally carry, and nonetheless, he was out of your car and in his house in no time.

After you locked the door, you turned around to meet Jungkook, rendering the door frame into a crutch and effectively detaining you between his body and the solid wood behind you.

If you weren't so reminiscent in the car seconds before this, then the vodka-scented souvenir on his breath would have gagged you. However, being this close to him, feeling the warmth of his body consuming and overpowering yours, just made you want to sink into him even more and give him everything you had to offer.

His head was hung so when you looked up, you were greeted with Jungkook's lazy smile that gave his lips a boyish asymmetry and draped his eyelids halfway down his irises. And he had you spooled around him so tightly, this look just made him all the more appetizing.

"Kook, we gotta get you to bed, buddy." You tried to ward him off by weaponizing the most strictly platonic nickname you could think of, partnered with a neighborly pat on the back.

It was mostly to remind yourself that this man, who was an inch too close to your face, was your friend, and that in less than ten minutes you were expected to see Seokjin, but from the way he was looking at you, as if he reached into the depths of your heart to devour all your feelings for him and make them his own, you had to remind him of the universally accepted best friend boundaries.

No deep, romantic gazing into each other's eyes. No intimate activity that could be a precursor to anything more affectionate than a hug. No doing exactly what you two were doing as of now.

"Don't call me that." You hoped his aggression against what you said was merely his inebriated irrationally talking, and as always, his emotions were far beyond his control.

And, shamefully, you also hoped it was because he actually did feel the way you felt. What if he wanted the date that Seokjin was going to get tonight and he wanted all the hand holding and none of the back patting, a 'baby' instead of a 'buddy'?

"What? You're drunk-"

"Don't." Before you could drag him by the arm to his bed, a firm palm settled on your torso and closed the gap between you and the door while widening the gap an inch further between Jungkook and his bed, where he would fall asleep without the warmth of the only person he wanted. "___, please."

His voice was strangled with desperation and Jungkook was depleted of all resistance. He just needed to drink you up. To fill himself with the nourishments of your lips, your body, you.

"What-" He could have silenced you easily with a 'shh' or a finger to your lips. Or anything to your lips except his lips.

His lips. They were greedy and giving all at once. Making soft and intimate ministrations against yours as he kissed you before you had the chance to register what was going on. And even when you did, you let his tongue slide into your mouth. This moment was brimming with all the spontaneity you could ever be prepared for, and though it was new, there was no denying that kissing him felt like finally coming home just from the amount of times you had played this moment out in your daydreams. Plus, Jungkook seemed to ease his tongue along yours a bit too confidently for this to be the first time the idea of kissing you has ran through his mind.

You're being stupid, you told yourself and Jungkook, but that didn't matter when you were finally allowed a taste of what it felt like to be kissed and touched and possibly even loved by Jungkook.

Your shirt was bunched halfway up your torso, his body pressed to your front a reprisal for the chill of the door against your back. Jungkook was, admittedly, a phenomenal kisser even when the lens of sobriety wasn't available to him. The way he ran his hands along the bare of your back like some desperate pilgrimage to discover the undiscovered parts of your body and took your bottom lip between his teeth like it was his to begin with was nearly enough to undress you from all your defenses, from all your clothing, from every single barrier that kept you from Jungkook for the past twelve years and let him have you. And finally have him. It was nearly enough.

Your hands divorced his body from yours before your lips and heart were ready to let go. It was painful, but the heartbroken look wringing his face into a tearful frown was even more so.

"No." You pushed him away further only to walk past him and seek refuge in the open space of his living room. "You don't get to do this."

"What? What does-"

"You don't get to drunkenly kiss me, Jungkook. You don't get to hold me and kiss me like you love me. It's not fair."

"Hey-"

"Because you don't. You don't love me..." If you weren't too busy finally permissing the hot words to boil over from pure anger, then you would have felt the even hotter tears wetting the expanse of your cheek.

"Well, how the hell would you know that?" His voice drowned out the loud pumps of blood beating in your ears like a drum.

"Because it would have happened ten years ago, Jungkook! Jesus, it would have been obvious from the beginning. So if you love me, if you really love me, then it wouldn't be happening now, like this. When you were drunk out of your mind and still vulnerable from Irene."

"You don't know anything." If that were the case, then Jungkook somehow knew even less than you.

"Yeah, clearly. I didn't know you'd stoop this low. I thought I was a lot of things to you. But I never thought I'd be some rebound."

"A rebound? You think that's what this is?" Jungkook seemed upset, but to your knowledge he had absolutely no reason to be angry with you.

He was, as always, displacing the burdens he didn't feel like dealing with on you, moderating you into an emotional punching bag. But what hurt more than those scrapes and bruises, was the aftermath of letting him fuck his worries away which would have consisted of him telling you the next morning that it meant nothing, expecting you to nod demurely, maybe even console him, and act like your chest hadn't been emptied and filled with his baggage in the most murderous way.

"Fuck you."

"Wow. You're really being like this? You really wanna talk about this now?

"You know what? Yeah I wanna talk about it. I wanna talk about the years. The years, Jungkook, that I've spent loving you! I- I wanna talk about the amount of times I've spent thinking about you when you were with her, and I probably didn't even cross your mind. Or how about the fucking thousands of times I've spent crying over you because I knew I was never going to be the one you'd want to wake up next to! And I had to watch! I had to fucking watch you fall in love over and over and probably wonder why I didn't fall in love either. It was you. It was always you, Jungkook."

"___, I-"

"No." His attempt to intervene was quickly denied. You were too angry to let him speak, too tired to carry these grievances any longer. "You don't get to talk. It's all out there. I loved you. I still love you! Fuck, I'm trying to get over you. And it's like you know. It's like you can read my mind or something and strike right when I'm about to recover from the last wound."

Your breathing was as heavy as Jungkook's was shallow. He could only stand, breathlessly, only curse himself for ever being so blind and regret taking advantage of your love even if it were entirely unknowingly, just to let his heart sink deeper until it fell completely out of his chest while his tears fell just as heavily.

"I'm done, Jungkook. I'm tired of trying to outrun you in this race that you're not even competing in. I'm tired of loving you. So, I'm done."

All the words Jungkook wanted to say, the words pleading for sound, carving deep gashes in his throat and leaving him vocally impaired, could never amount to the apology you deserved. Maybe this once, he wouldn't leave you wounded. He would gather the nobility to shut up and let you move on from him. Because you wouldn't know from his lapse of silence that he was empathizing with every bit of pain he caused you, and he hated himself more than you did right now for allowing such a pain to ever fall in your hands. But, where you knew you could someday forgive him for it, he knew he would never forgive himself.

He could scrounge for a few things to respond with, pour the weight of his emotions into the scarcity of his words, but he needed to let you leave and be selfless for once in his life.

"I should go. Drink some water before bed, okay?" You mumbled to choke back your tears, though it wouldn't matter letting a few more tears escape since you were previously sob-ranting and he'd seen you cry like this a hundred times before. He was the shoulder you never thought you'd have to miss leaning on, but walking out of his door punctured a hole in you. An empty space in your heart designed for the one person who had crushed the rest of it.

If this were a movie, with star-crossed lovers and a fiery infatuation blooming into what everyone secretly wants: true love, then Jungkook would have ran out of his door and held you close, professing his undying love for you. He would have won you back, reassembled your broken heart into fullness, kissed you beneath the brilliance of the moon, and lived happily ever after.

But this wasn't a movie, and he did none of those things.

Instead, he stumbled his way into his kitchen. He poured himself that cup of water you advised. He thought about how even when you swore to him you were done, you spared a bit of compassion to remind him to take care of himself. He wondered how deserving he was of everything you are. He touched his lips, searching for the echo of yours. He fell into his queen-sized bed meant for two, alone, and whispered the words that were ever eclipsing to the space beside him where he longed for you to lay so you could hear them for yourself.

"I love you."

a/n: sorry to put you through that, but the idea was born and i am but a humble vessel to bring it to life <3 hehe thank you all so much for reading and like i said, don't worry there will be a happy ending!!! (and possibly a longer-than-drabble final chapter to this series)

#bangtanarmynet #btsgoldnet #ficswithluv #bts fanfic #bts x reader #bts angst #bts writing #jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #jungkook angst #jungkook bestfriend!au #bts drabble #jungkook drabble #constant craving #rubycoast

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hemera989 · 4 years

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Hot Takes: Yukio Okumura

Aka, 'My Analysis Of Yukio That No One Asked For And Yet I Will Give It Anyways’ asjhdkajshfs also, tw for talk of attempted suicide, suicidal thoughts, depression and trauma!

The main reason I felt it necessary to give My Take on Yukio was not entirely because I love him and feel like he’s a lot more immature and human than people like to think though that is a large chunk of the reason. It was rather because recent manga chapters have really gone on to shake up how I view him, and it helps to write things down.

I feel like perhaps it’s best to start chronologically in a way, because there’s no one event that really led to the reveal of Yukio as he is today- depressed, suicidal, and destructive. There is no one reason to point a finger at, or one life event to deconstruct. He’s a product of his personality, childhood, and the overall events that led to his birth. And what better way to start a childhood off, than with bullying?

Considering how traumatic bullying can be, it’s just a little bit surprising to see how much it tends to get glossed over (for both Rin and Yukio). This is where I believe Yukio’s inferiority complex may have developed, or at least started becoming prominent. He was teased and harassed as a child, and unable to defend himself besides relying on Rin to protect him. While Rin was only doing so out of genuine love and care for Yukio, this is likely where his twisted opinion of their relationship began. Rin was good and kind and strong, and defended him out of love, and Yukio was weak and a crybaby, and resented both Rin and himself for how little he was able to protect himself on his own.

This is where we can see his mindset begin to develop; Rin = good and strong, and Yukio = weak and bad. This even extends to Shiro, which we can see somewhat in what I believe is the Kraken arc.

This also becomes what I believe is the core of Yukio’s character- he does not like himself. Because he hates himself so thoroughly, he doesn’t believe that he deserves to be liked, or even that he genuinely can be liked for who he is. We see this in his conversation with Rin during the Aomori arc, where he remarks to Rin that if Shiemi knew the ‘real’ him, she would hate him. He believes that he is an unlikable person, to both himself and others.

In a way, this also stems from his relationship with Rin. Rin is in no way at fault for why Yukio is the way that he is, but the friction between their two personalities does deepen their own insecurities. Because Rin is reckless and headstrong, Yukio is forced to be the ‘mean guy’, the one to put his foot down, the one to say ‘no’ because he knows that Rin isn’t often capable of doing so himself. He is forced into responsibilities too intense for him to properly handle both due to Rin’s position as the inheritor of the blue flames, and due to his brother’s personality as the goofy, fun-having teen. (If you’ve ever had siblings, or, hell, even had to be the voice of reason in a situation where people are having reckless fun, you know exactly how this feels.)

When you take how his personality is, you can see exactly how his position as an exorcist has exacerbated this to an almost extreme amount. Though Shiro didn’t do so intentionally, he almost single-handedly createted one of Yukio’s most damaging mindsets- that becoming strong is the only way forward for Yukio.

(Don’t take this as Shiro slander, I love that man and he tried his best with the complicated history he already has with childhood) Through trying to give Yukio the chance to seize strength for himself, he set off quite a few chain reactions within Yukio’s mindset. First, he associated strength as a person with physical strength. Second, he associated worth as a person with physical strength. Third, he associated Yukio’s strength and worth with Rin, by making exorcism a way to protect Rin from other demons. Foruth, in my opinion, we can see the reduction of Yukio and Shiro’s relationship from a father-son bond to a teacher- student bond. Now, Yukio begins to lose his main support system- his father. Shiro is no longer his dad, but the paladin, a strong man who offered him an unhealthy way forward in life.

In one decision, we can see how Yukio’s self hatred found an external focus to worsen itself for him. Yukio believes that he is a weak, worthless, and unlikable person. But, now, he does have a purpose, something in life that is worth living for. He begins to develop his entire concept of himself as a person on that of becoming an exorcist, becoming strong, and protecting his brother. He hates himself, but he knows that he can do one thing- protect Rin.

We can also see where his superiority complex begins to develop. Being born human while his brother was born clearly demonic, Yukio has more worth in the eyes of the True Cross. Being the good child, and the smart child with a plan for his future, he has more worth in the eyes of society. He is better than his brother, and he knows it, but he also knows that Rin is (in his eyes) inherently good and kind, and Yukio is not. He is better, but he is also lesser than Rin.

Protecting his brother is also where I believe his relationship with Rin begins to deteriorate to a dramatic extent. Yukio wants strongly to protect him, because that’s where he believes his worth as a person is, but in a way, he resents the burden that’s been placed on him. He has to be the responsible one, the mean one, the assertive one, the negotiator, the one to clean up Rin’s messes, the one to fix everything, the one to give up his entire childhood just for exorcism to protect Rin. Yukio is a child, and one who was denied the chance to be one. He was never allowed the chance to selfishly externalize his emotions (like children should be ALLOWED to do, imo) and so never learned how to process his own emotions.

At this point in his life, he resents Rin for being ‘allowed’ to be selfish and destructive, he resents Rin and the world for having this burden of responsibility put on his shoulders, and he resents himself still for being an unlikable, weak, and worthless person, and for resenting Rin and the world. He is vastly, vastly unhappy and hateful towards himself, and is already suffering in the assortment of circumstances he finds himself in.

And then throw in a murdered dad, because why not?

Now, the burden that was placed on him and shared between himself and Shiro, is now solely on him. On top of having his father suddenly and traumatically killed, he is now responsible (in his mind) for Rin. One could argue Mephisto, but he proved... extremely quickly that he was not interested in the finer details of guardianship LMAO. Yukio now is the sole bearer of Rin’s wellbeing, and he finds very quickly that this is a role he does not (and cannot, as a child himself) succeed in.

Yukio has been thrust abruptly into the world of becoming a parent, in an extremely twisted and awful way. He is a child, in an adult field, surrounded by adults, treated as an adult, and now he essentially is the parent of Rin. This is complicated enough with Rin’s personality, but then you have to add in that Rin is the illegitimate and illegal son of Satan, and his very existence, if revealed, would lead to his certain death. As Rin reveals his powers, gets sentenced to execution, picks fights with Amaimon, uses his powers across Kyoto and in damn near every public space whenever possible, Yukio’s distress and mental state begins to worsen as he realizes that he is failing.

We can see him begin to externalize his mounting frustrations and anger and fear, through reprimanding Rin harshly, threatening Suguro, threatening Mephisto, and also that scene where he punched the shit out of Rin for being reckless. Yukio needs his brother alive, because Rin is his only family left, and because his worth as a person is tied directly to protecting Rin. It is his only purpose in life, and he is failing at it, and he deeply resents Rin for making it difficult, and himself for failing. His downward spiral begins to become visible around these points, and we can also see the start of his worsening habit of taking his volatile emotions out on others physically.

He is progressively being backed into a corner with no way out, and like a wounded animal, he is lashing out at anyone who dares come close. Yukio’s violent and hurtful behavior towards others is not because he’s an uptight asshole who does it for fun, but because he’s a traumatized, depressed, and suicidal child who is losing the one person he has left and who gives his life worth. He has no substantial guidance from the adults around him, and for all intents and purposes, he is alone. He wants to rely on Rin, but because Rin has a tendency to process negative emotions by shoving them down and away, Yukio can’t rely on him.

This is what I think is the most heartbreaking aspect of Yukio. He is a hurt and lonely child, who is deeply mentally ill, who is losing his brother and lashing out at others because he doesn’t know what else to do. He is acutely aware that he is being cruel and unkind, and he doesn’t want to be. He wants to be good, and kind, and liked, and valued. He doesn’t want to hurt others.

This scene makes this obvious. This is what I believe is the cliff’s edge where Yukio takes the drop that leads him to where he is in the manga now. He is terribly lonely, and hateful, but in a moment where he lashes out emotionally, he managed to do something he feels is well and wholly despicable. Shiemi is the one person he cares for genuinely, healthily, and truly. She wants to help him because she cares for him, and yet he hurts her for daring to mention his largest insecurity- and he knows that.You can see it written across his expression- he’s shocked, and horrified with himself for how he lost control. His hands are shaking.

He managed to do the one thing he feared above all, and that was to let Shiemi see who he ‘truly’ was. He hurt someone who unselfishly cared for him, and this is where he begins to think that he has gone past the point of no return. He is so awful, and terrible, that he hurt someone as kind as Shiemi. He is so worthless that he is failing at the one job that gives his life meaning. He is so evil and cruel that he has shoved everyone away, and now he truly has no one left.

He is worthless, and evil, and terrible- this is how Yukio views himself. Why not kill himself, and then the world would be rid of him?

Except, now another wrench has been thrown in. Yukio finds that, with Satan possessing his eye, he has become worse that worthless and evil and terrible. Now, his life poses a threat to humanity, by allowing Satan a way into Assiah. His life isn’t just worthless now, it’s become an active threat to the world, in his mind. Now, he can rationalize that his death is necessary. He is suicidal, but he has convinced himself that it’s fine, because he needs to die anyways.

This is where I believe he is in the manga, now. He is convinced that he has to die, and says it’s because he wants to save the world from Satan, but it is extremely likely that it’s mostly because he is extremely suicidal. He is hellbent (pardon the pun) on his own death. He will stop at nothing to secure his own death, no matter what it takes. His trauma, his mental illness, his self-hatred- they’re all open and exposed, now. If he’s an evil, unlikable, and cruel person, why not commit to it? Why not make himself the most evil, the most unlikable, the most cruel, if it means someone will finally get tired enough to truly put himself out of his misery?

He’s cast aside his true kindness and gentleness, and has embraced what he believes to be his ‘true’ self. He will die, and he’ll do whatever it takes to make sure that happens.

That’s my take on him, what I believe his mindset is and how it developed. Yukio is not a hero. He hurt Shiemi, threatened his students, threatened his guardian, and shot Rin multiple times. Whether or not Rin heals from it is irrelevant, Yukio still made the conscious choice to harm Rin, and others. But, he has never done so because he is evil inside. He’s done so because he’s a wounded animal, lashing out, determined to secure his own death. He is a traumatized child who has hurt others.

He deserves kindness and understanding, but also to be held accountable for his actions. He’s what I believe to be the embodiment of the ugly side of mental illness that many people are resistant to see. His character is uncomfortable to read, because he is startlingly real and three-dimensional. Like many of the characters in aoex, he cannot be classified as good or bad. He is a complex person, with good and bad aspects, like any person in real life.

godDAMN could someone give him a HUG and some THERAPY PLEASE.

#ao no exorcist #blue exorcist #character analysis #yukio okumura #okumura yukio #yuriotoko rants

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theonceoverthinker · 4 years

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When Will My Life Begin? (Fair Game, 15/?)

Summary: Tangled AU. Clover Callows has been confined to a tower for all of his life, and given the threat that his Uncle Tyrian says his semblance poses to his safety, he accepts that fate. It’s the only life he’s ever known, after all. But when he’s offered the opportunity to fulfill his greatest dream after a chance encounter with a thief -- or bandit, as Qrow Branwen insists there’s a difference between the two -- both Clover and Qrow will discover joys that they never knew life could offer them before.

AO3

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Clover took pride in the fact that in the three hours since he left his tower, he’d proven himself to be rather brave. He actually left the tower itself by freefalling from the top by Kingfisher’s line, let himself trust another person to guide him to the lanterns, and even confronted that same person over their roguish past.

It couldn’t be said that Clover didn’t have good reason to be impressed with himself.

However, as he stood in Lil’ Miss Malachite’s, watching his guide get trapped in place by the rowdiest people Clover had ever seen in his life, he imagined he could be forgiven for forgetting all that bravery he’d built up.

Everything was so dark, and everyone was so loud, their voices only slightly blurred by the sound of Clover’s heart all but pounding ceaselessly right in his ears with the force of a falling dictionary.

Damn it, Qrow!

What was he thinking, taking them to this place?

Clover imagined Qrow probably thought he could get him to back out of their deal and give him his satchel back by showing him the exact types of people he confessed to fearing most. Well, the joke was on him, because as soon as Clover picked up on that notion, he made it clear to Qrow that he had another thing coming!

But then Qrow brought up a frustratingly good point -- there were sure to be a lot of other people in the capital that acted like these miscreants did. If he couldn’t handle them here in a small little tavern, what would he do then when he was in the larger town?

It was an admittedly good question, one Clover couldn’t really think about before Qrow was captured and Clover was left to fend for himself.

Either way though, one thing was for certain -- Qrow was a jerk.

However, he was also a jerk who knew his way to the lanterns. Clover knew he meant what he told Qrow: He wasn’t going home without seeing them, no matter what.

Besides, though Qrow was a jerk and a thief -- or rather, a bandit, as he claimed -- the sight before him didn’t feel right.

Clover had overpowered Qrow plenty of times today, both physically through his capture and mentally through his hidden satchel and deduction skills. However, for as many times as he defeated Qrow in just that short window of time, Qrow had never made an expression that was anything like what he currently sported.

As Qrow tried to wrestle out of the tight hold imposed on him, there was a helplessness in his eyes, a lack of hope that complemented the sparks of fear that overran his face. It was nothing like the Qrow he’d spent the past few hours with -- instead, one filled with panic that felt cruelly unnatural.

Even outside of his desire to see the lanterns, Clover couldn’t let whatever was causing an expression like that go on.

No, he had to do something.

Raven seemed to have an idea, signaling her view on what they should do by giving Clover’s collar a loose tug towards the door that led out of the tavern.

To that, Clover shot her a deadpan look.

Honestly…

“We’re not leaving him here, Raven,” Clover stated, his tone frank and definite.

Birds couldn’t roll their eyes, but Raven all the same communicated the sensation without even doing it just before letting go of Clover’s collar.

Clover looked at the sight before him.

People were surrounding the kerfuffle being created by Qrow and his captors. Among the many others in attendance, the group that approached Clover when he first entered the tavern were there.

However, while they were absolutely interested in seeing what was going down, they didn’t seem that excited, or even happy about it.

It made them seem so tired, so resigned, so different than what they were like when he first met them.

In fact, looking around the room, Clover could see that no one really appeared in favor of what was happening, not even the woman -- Robyn, he believed her name was -- who led the group who captured Qrow, nor anyone in that group itself.

Weren’t they at least going to get a reward for this, judging by what their boss said? Shouldn’t that have made them just a little more sold on the task at hand?

Clover had to admit, the attitudes towards such an order even in the face of payment seemed a far cry than what Uncle Tyrian had taught him to expect from situations like these.

Then again, Qrow didn’t have a lucky semblance. He supposed there was more empathy his fellow humans were willing to give those who didn’t have so tantalizing a prize within them.

However, as resigned as he was to think about how he was just an exception to this new revelation, Clover had a thought that he chose to focus on instead: Maybe, he could use the reluctance of those around him to get himself and Qrow out of this mess.

It wasn’t going to be easy, and he had no idea how he was going to pull it off, but he also knew he was going to try anyways.

Looking ahead, Clover surveyed his options for those to recruit for help. He couldn’t tell anything about most of the tavern’s other patrons, but some stood out, namely the group he and Qrow ran into when they first came into the place.

Well, they did want to talk to him…

They looked calmer than they did initially now, but all the same, Clover had only talked to Qrow and Raven since he’d left the tower. Raven was his friend and in addition to the advantages and leverage he held over the latter, Qrow proved quickly to not be dangerous -- a jerk, yes, but not a dangerous one. These guys were going to be different. Not only did he not know them -- and what he did know of them was...a lot to handle, but he was in their territory, and there were four of them against himself and Raven.

Clover gave a glance Qrow’s way -- reminding himself of both his moral and selfish obligation to end this -- and made his way over to the group.

With their attention towards Qrow and his captors, the group paid Clover no mind as he approached. That worked out well enough for Clover, who was still trying to figure out just how to initiate this conversation.

Everything that came to mind sounded so stupid. Why would they help him of all people? On top of barely talking to him, he was just some random guy who ran away from them -- he wasn’t sure he’d be so inclined to help himself either after that. And it’s not like he had anything to offer them for their help apart from maybe a good recipe for bread rolls.

He couldn’t do this. Qrow was going to go to jail, and he was going to lose out on his dream forever.

Could he even navigate himself home from here? It wasn’t like anyone could help him, and sure, he put a few landmarks to memory, but that was only going to get him so far.

Uncle Tyrian was right. He never had a chance of surviving outside of the tower on his own.

So much for his bravery…

Suddenly, someone moving from across the bar accidentally pushed Clover to the side, inadvertently knocking him right into one of the group member’s backs. Clover backed away quickly, but the damage had already been done.

Upon being hit, the group member jumped in place, letting out a shapeless exclamation before slowly turning around.

It was the girl from earlier...the especially loud one…

Clover was pretty sure her name was Nora.

“Ooh!” she said upon recognizing him. “Look, guys! It’s that weird stranger from earlier!”

Immediately, the rest of her friends’ turned around to face him.

Clover knew having the group’s eyes on him was something he should have expected if he wanted to enlist their help, but it didn’t make the actuality of it happening any less scary than it was.

Gods, what he would give for some water right now.

Looks like whether he wanted it or not, that very bravery Clover was about to abandon was going to be thrust upon him.

Lucky him...

“Hi,” Clover squeaked.

He waited for a second, hoping one of them was going to say something.

None of them said anything.

Where were the chatterboxes he’d encountered when he first came in here?

Damn it.

“Look, I need your help,” he said, suddenly finding himself able to speak quite a lot, probably as compensation for how quiet they were. “My name is Clover and that guy they have bound up is my guide and I know he’s a thief or a bandit or whatever and it’s going to be really, really hard to save him with all those people in the way trying to get that reward, but I need him to take me to see the lanterns tomorrow because I’ve been dreaming about them my whole life and this is going to be the one chance I’ll ever have to see them up close and in person. I don’t know if you’ve ever had a dream like that, but this one means everything to me, so will you please help me?” Upon finishing, Clover took a deep breath. He was pretty sure he’d picked up the speed speaking, but he got the sense that he got a lot faster than even he thought he did.

Well, at least he didn’t mumble…

Uncle Tyrian could at least be proud of him for that...once he got over every other rule Clover broke today.

For a moment, none of the four of them said anything.

Clover bit his lip. Had he said too much? Did they, in fact, ever have dreams like that? Were dreams even valued by those outside the tower, or was Clover an anomaly in that regard, only admiring them because they were some of the very few things he had to get himself through the lull of repetitive days and years?

The group’s other girl -- Pyrrha, if Clover recalled correctly -- let out a somewhat despondent sigh.

“We know about dreams,” she said. “We’ve been fighting for ours for years now.”

“But to no luck,” one of the boys -- Ren, Clover was pretty sure -- added.

“W-what’s your dream?” The question left Clover’s mouth before he could even think about it, but he dared not take it back, somewhat because he still didn’t know what to make of this group, but mostly because that question allowed him to pursue an opportunity to experience something that didn’t come by his way that often -- someone else talking about their dreams.

Uncle Tyrian had talked about his dreams a bit -- for Clover to remain safe and happy in the tower for all of his days while he took care of him or for a world that didn’t care about semblances -- but it was always so vague and in the former case, it was a dream that they were actually living.

But to hear someone else, and not just one other but four others talk about their unfulfilled dreams was something Clover never knew he wanted until it was something he had the chance to hear for himself.

“We want to defend Remnant from evil!” Nora called out, raising a large hammer in her hand. Quickly, Clover backed away, intimidated by its size.

Uncle Tyrain wasn’t wrong when he spoke of the weapons of those outside the tower. The hammer that Nora held in her hands could probably separate a man’s head from his shoulders, and Clover needed both of those things intact.

However, while Nora raised her hammer, she didn’t attempt to hurt Clover, nor anyone else with it. She was just kind of showing it off before settling its head back on the ground a few moments later and balancing her hands on the base of the handle. Clover had to admit that once his shock had worn off, she looked like a hero from a book yielding such a behemoth. The other’s weapons, still in their sheaths, looked great as well.

Fighting evil, huh?

“That sounds amazing,” Clover said, unable and unwilling to prevent the smile on his face from growing.

“But the only problem is that the royal guard doesn’t consider us ‘couth’ or ‘soldierly’ enough to fight alongside them,” the final member of the group, Jaune, sadly interjected.

“Even though we’ve got the fighting chops,” Nora countered.

“And the desire to help,” Pyrrha added.

In all fairness to their group, the royal guard -- whoever they were -- weren’t entirely wrong. This team that he’d seen in just those short moments they’d interacted with was unabashedly loud, eccentric, and definitely didn’t look all that interested in following rules. No, they just looked like they wanted to do good for the world as they saw fit.

Clover admired that, and right now, that kind of attitude he needed in abundance to fulfill his dreams.

Perhaps it was the attitude that best suited them towards their own dreams, as well.

“Well,” Clover said, “can’t you just fight without them?”

“Fight without the royal guard?” Jaune repeated.

“No one’s fought outside the purview of the general before,” Ren said.

Clover shrugged. “Is there any reason why you can’t be the first? You already have a team, you said yourselves that you’re willing to face evil, and if you’re as good as you say you are -- and with weapons like that, I’d bet you are -- then there’s no reason you shouldn’t be allowed to be heroes of Remnant in your own right! And if the royal guard doesn’t want you, well, then that’s their loss, right?”

Jaune released a hum, followed by Pyrrha, followed by Nora, followed by Ren.

In front of Clover, the group exchanged looks with each other, their frowns slowly rising until they became smiles.

“He’s right, you know,” Pyrrha said, waving an agreeing hand .

“There’s nothing illegal about it, after all,” Ren supplemented.

“General Ironwood’s not going to be happy about it,” Jaune said, all the while sporting a smirk that all but shouted how little he cared about that.

“Well,” Nora replied, shooting her friend a knowing smirk, “then he needs to write some better laws in the future because the Juniper Jaggers aren’t about to let anyone tell them ‘no’ so easily anymore!”

Jaune, Pyrrha, and Ren gave a holler, and even though he didn’t join in, Clover could feel his cheeks pinch from how big he was grinning.

Everyone then turned to Clover, and this time, he didn’t feel intimidated by the action.

“So,” Nora continued. “How about in return for reviving our dream, we make our first mission helping you save yours?”

Clover smirked. “To that, I’d say, ‘what do you have in mind?’”

Nora signaled for Clover and her teammates to look at Lil’ Miss Malachite, who was presently looking at Qrow with a greedy, sinister gaze.

“Robyn and her team aren’t bad, they’re just following their boss’ orders, but without her, they’ll change their tune quickly enough,” Nora said. “If we can get her away from them and Qrow, then we can unleash our secret weapon and get him free.”

“Secret weapon?” Clover asked.

In truth, he was eager to hear about how the Juniper Jaggers would fight them off.

Did they have a team attack? Did they have an ancient trinket or a powerful weapon to exchange for Qrow’s freedom?

“Yup. You.”

Clover blinked.

There is no way he heard that correctly.

“I’m sorry. What?” Clover questioned, begging to the Gods and his semblance alike that he misheard what she’d said.

“You were able to convince us to help you,” Jaune said. “No reason why you can’t do it with everyone else.”

That begging apparently went unheard.

Stupid semblance.

Stammering, Clover tried to come up with an objection.

“I-I can’t-”

“Sure you can!” Pyrrha said, waving a dismissive hand. “Just talk to them! They’re more receptive and kinder than they look.”

“But you guys know them be-”

“They’re not going to listen to us,” Ren said, interrupting him, though blushing immediately afterwards while whispering an apology.

“For some reason, they think we’re annoying, so they just drown out whatever we say,” Jaune explained.

“But you’re new and interesting!” Nora countered.

“And you haven’t worn people out yet,” Ren added.

“Not to mention, you’re kind of good looking with those muscles of yours,” Jaune admitted.

“And you’ve got a good heart,” Pyrrha finished off.

“Guys,” Clover protested. “I could barely talk to you. I almost wasn’t going to until I got pushed into Nora.”

“But even though you were scared, you did,” Ren pointed out.

“You’re braver than you think you are,” Pyrrha promised.

“And you’ve got what it takes to fulfill your dream,” Jaune said.

“So what do you say?” Nora asked.

Well, it was either do this or lose his dream.

There wasn’t much of a choice to be made, and just like the Juniper Jaggers, Clover wasn’t about to let the world tell him ‘no’ so easily anymore.

His resolve didn’t make the deep breath he took any less shaky, but he nodded all the same.

“Let’s do this,” Clover said, however uneasily.

The team nodded at him before bringing him in close and telling him how they’d distract Lil’ Miss Malachite, as well as how much time they theorized Clover had to work with before the guards arrived.

It was going to be hard -- Clover would dare say impossible.

But he had already done a few things today he never thought would be possible for him. What was one more?

In any event, for whatever bravery Clover either had prior to or garnered today, he knew now that it was about to be put to the ultimate test.

#fair game #clover ebi #rwby #qrow branwen #tangled au #jaune arc #pyrrha nikos #lie ren #nora valkyrie #raven branwen

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land-of-classpects-and-analysis · 4 years

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i hope this isn't a bother or a distraction to you right now, but could i get a little taste of an heir of life? i'm pretty sure i've seen you do other heirs and i really wanna see what amazing analysis you might have in store for the future when you do heirs!!

Of course you can have a small preview of, arguably, possibly one of my favorite Classpects! I can also promise you are most definitely not bothering nor distracting me from things, either!

For the sake of time and my wrists, I’ll drop in here what I’ve already said about the overall Heir Class!:

Heirs are those who subconsciously, almost instinctively, drift towards any and all instances of their Aspect. Whether it is always finding themself taking charge and being the leader, having a life of misery, suffering and pain with no real comfort to speak of, or fading into the shadows and remaining ignorant to the truths of a flawed system. The Heir is one who both gravitates towards their Aspect, but it is one that rarely often helps them - at least in the beginning.

It is because of this subconscious gravitation that the Heir is at risk of becoming fully submissive to the whims of their Aspect, losing every other sense of who they are in the process. While some Heirs may not see any problems with this, it is a thought that may startle and even turn Heirs into those who try to fight back against the strings their Aspect has tied to them. They are the only ones who can control their fates, whether it is by fighting back against and taking full control of their Aspect or allowing for it to fully overtake and override who they are, leaving them to be an unfortunate husk of who they once were.

Heirs are those who usually passively Manipulate their Aspect, or Manipulate through it. Their powers come to them naturally, after all, but their main problem is having to learn how to use their powers to benefit the team rather than only themselves. Overall, their personalities are often ones filled with passion and loyalty, especially when it comes to their opinions, values, and beliefs. Changing an Heir’s mind on something they enjoy can be difficult, sometimes even to the point where it feels like you are talking more to a wall than an actual person.

Now, as for the Heir of Life themself, they are simply someone who often tries to give too much of themself at once - they seek to heal and mend and fix what has been broken, wash away the scorched scars that cover those they love and the planet they love on, but they can’t. They are only human, and they can’t fix all that is wrong in the world. The Heir of Life does not care, though, as they will continue to try over, and over, and over again to fix as much as they can, to help as many people as they can at once, always taking on more weight of people’s issues all while trying to juggle their own. Although some of the Heir’s own friends may try and tell them to take a break, take care of themself, make boundaries, practice what they preach, and more, the Heir of Life may smile back at them oh-so-sweetly while promising that they will try, that they will do better about taking care of themself. Everyone knows, though, for they have all had this conversation one too many times, that the Heir of Life will always find a way to once again stretch themself too thin, set themself ablaze to keep others warm, sacrifice their own health so as to give more kindness and prosperity to the people in their lives who would not even think twice of returning the favor. The Heir of Life does not mind, though, because knowing they have made others happy is all they need. Right? Right?

The Heir of Life is someone who may naturally gravitate towards Life, the Aspect of growth, happiness, life itself, positivity, healing, and more. Because of this, they are someone who will often be the first responder to when someone asks for a shoulder to lean on, or a soul to listen to them vent. They are the person - the friend - who will drop everything they are doing and try to help someone find their way through the darkness of negativity they are experiencing. While they may have extensive knowledge of how to fix things, how to make things better, oftentimes the Heir of Life will find that their good-hearted actions will go to the people and places filled with selfishness. People who, admittedly, do not want to be fixed, or healed, or mended, but rather just want someone to coddle and enable their self-destructive behaviors while also leeching off of their loving ways. Yet they have so much love to give, so much empathy, sympathy, and compassion in their heart, that to even say no to giving love and healing to even the most rotten soul is something the Heir of Life can’t even bear to think about, even if it means continuing to hurt themself in the process.

However, while the Heir of Life may be able to ignore their own pain and suffering as they continue to coddle and enable the toxic, leeching behavior of others, as well as healing their own friends of their worries and problems. Except, there is one worry the Heir of Life will never be able to truly heal away from their true friends - and that is the worry that the Heir of Life may fully lose themself in the ways of healing, mending, and sewing things back together. Their friends - their true friends - are the ones who must sit and watch as the Heir continues to scratch themself out too thin until, finally, something snaps and the Heir of Life is sent spiraling into a mental state of pure and utter despair and anger. An Heir of Life at their worst can be a truly vicious and venomous person to be around, as they spare no expense as to who will be met with a snap and a bite from the Heir themself. Someone so sweet and unassuming becoming a force of overall destructive, for the self or otherwise, behavior, and who will take down anyone they deem to be worthy of experiencing the same despair as them is often a trademark trait of the Heir of Life.

It is a vicious and ever-spinning cycle for the Heir of Life; being an unrelenting healer, offering their help to all who will take it, falling prey to those who only seek to use and abuse the Heir, leaving their true friends to become bystander witnesses to the Heir’s suffering and grievances, and finally, the Heir having enough and reclaiming their right for self-care and self-love, all the while hurting many other people, good and bad, along the way. While it may be a cycle, much like of life and death, it is a cycle that can be broken. For as much as the Heir of Life loves to help as many as they can, once they come to realize how much their self-destructive ways harms not only themself, but also the friends who love and care for the Heir, they will discover that this isn’t who they truly want to be - they don’t want to give away all of their help to those who don’t deserve it, especially when they have people who are far more deserving of such tender-love-and-care. As such, the Heir of Life would have to find a way to break away from the strings of their Aspect, while also continuing to be the healer they so deeply desire to be.

For the powers, they are rather interesting when one takes a moment to contemplate them. After all, what does it mean to manipulate Life or even manipulate through it? Well, let’s try - keyword being try - to go over both options very, very briefly, so as to avoid any big spoilers before the time comes for the Heir of Life to fully shine! To start off, let’s go with the far more simple option of manipulating Life - though, as easy as it may sound, the fact that Life can stand for so many different things can put quite an interesting twist on this power. For now, let’s look towards the more literal version of Life, primarily with people’s life force as well as that of plant-life. An Heir of Life could come along and manipulate the life force of anyone they wanted to, whether it is by expanding a mortal’s lifespan by hundreds, thousands, perhaps even millions of years, or doing the exact opposite - manipulating someone’s life to become far more disheveled and closer to death. Of course, they could also manipulate someone’s Life in the form of aging certain parts of that person, while leaving everything else relatively untouched. If the Heir of Life so wanted, they could turn their enemy’s skeleton and/or insides into dust, leaving them hollow on the inside and, of course, dead. Then there is the manipulation of Life in the form of plants - which could become more akin to that of, perhaps, a type of Cleric or Warlock who has a domain or pact that allows for them to bring about a horrific army of plants. While they can’t exactly create these plants from thin air, so long as there is any sign of plant-life in the immediate area, the Heir of Life could so easily take it and turn it into something as simple as an ocean or mass of thorned tendrils, or give far more sentient life to the plants, making them an entire plant-based animal to do the Heir’s bidding more than anything.

As for the ability to manipulate through Life, this power is one that could take a far darker turn, especially if the Heir of Life using it has simply had enough of feeling like some old, beat-up, and thrown away doll. They would still be a healer, oh most certainly, but there would always be a small price for their helpful services. Heirs may be somewhat awkward individuals, but they still are people who attract others to them, one way or another. Because of this, if the Heir of Life truly wanted to play a little dirty, then they could use their Life powers as a means to twist the arms of those that have wronged them. After all, wouldn’t it be just a shame if people were to find out the star of a show was secretly some criminal, or that the person with a tragic home-life is just simply spoiled and not getting their way? Wouldn’t it just be a shame if all of these deep, deep dark secrets were to get out? The Heir of Life thinks so, and since people just love to come to them and talk about all of their problems, then the Heir believes their enemies would also agree how truly devastating it would be for the harsh truths to come out. If the Heir of Life wants to get something, then they know exactly how to get it.

Hopefully this helps to give you a little taste as to what the Heir of Life has to offer for when Month of the Heir comes rolling around!

#Mage Musings #Kind of An Analysis #Not A Full Analysis #Heir of Life Preview #Sneak Peek

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theredhairedmonkey · 4 years

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A few people had some feedback for my meta on Claudia here. Instead of reblogging the meta over and over again, I’d rather address the arguments raised by @silverspetz here and @atreefullofstars here.

So... neither of these posts seem all that enthusiastic with either (1) my treatment of Dark Magic nor (2) my assessment of Claudia. I’ll do my best to break down both of these arguments as well as possible.

From @silverspetz:

I don’t really believe in the “power corrupts” thing in the first place, but even if I did it wouldn’t change the fact that primal magic users also have elevated power and the only reason you can give for why dark magic would be more tempting is because it makes things “too” easy. If you were actually honest with this argument you would be insisting that the true evil is that magic exists at all and not just that dark magic is arbitrarily “too powerful”.

Let's break down these forms of magic. For Primal Magic, in order to take full advantage of all that it can offer you, a mage has to have an arcanum (or an uber-rare Primal Stone). An arcanum requires a deep, fundamental understanding of the Primal Source, and far more so; there’s a reason only a rare few elves even become mages, and why even sky mages can’t automatically learn to grow mage wings. There’s a lot of internal mental discipline and legwork that’s involved--the reason why Lujanne can cast spells, but Runaan and Rayla can’t. While Callum is an exception, canonically it usually takes years if not decades to master this kind of magic.

Dark Magic doesn’t require any of this. If you have the materials and the incantation words, that’s enough. No deep understanding or internal channeling of magic is required. That’s what makes it so easy. And this is canon; this is what Aaron and Justin describe as the difference between Primal and Dark Magic when it comes to ease.

But being easy does not in of itself make Dark Magic bad. It’s why it’s tempting (Callum catches on to this, even when Viren and Claudia do not). The fact that there is no limit to what you can do with Dark Magic, combined with the fact that everything you could ever need or want could just be a single spell away is what makes this dangerous. Again, unlike Primal Magic, Dark Magic is characterized as unlimited power. That’s what makes this a toxic combination.

Primal Magic simply doesn’t operate this way. It’s a naturally occuring phenomenon that can be tapped into. There are limits as to what can be done; Primal Energy needs to be nearby, and many spells, such as aspiro and mage wings, are limited by what the mage can physically exert.

The Primal Mages that we’ve seen demonstrate a separate issue with Primal Magic, but I’ll talk about that below.

Sure, it is nice that you at least admit that Xadia probably exiled humans to preserve the status quo, but you are still insisting that dark magic is the only kind with inherently corrupting influence and acting as if being born with an inherent power isn’t already playing life at easy mode. You don’t ask the question “how long before elves decide to do the easy thing instead of the right thing” even though they have already done far worse things than any dark mage on the show. It is all so very reminicent of all the arguments you hear from the majority whenever a minority tries to assert itself. “No, you can’t fight oppression your way, that’s wrong and bad. Do it on our terms”. The show’s thesis is basically that “reverse racism” is worse than actual racism, and the fandom largely agrees. You can save your “is dark magic too powerful” concerns until humanity as a whole has been given even a modicum of the power they actually deserve.

The show definitely doesn’t pull its punches when it comes to dragons and elves. Sol Regem quite nearly wipes out a city, while the ethnic cleansing of humans had been compared to the Trail of Tears by the show’s creators. And the thing is, there are issues with the way elven mages and dragons use their magic, even though that’s beyond the scope of my meta on Claudia. But just because a group is oppressed or marginalized doesn’t mean any attempt to gain, as you say, a “modicum of the power they actually deserve” is justified. In fact, that’s all very reminiscent of real-life formerly oppressed groups who either gained that “modicum of power” through exploiting others or taking advantage of their newfound power to settle the score with their former oppressors, which just perpetuates a cycle of hatred and violence...which kinda sounds like the point the first three seasons of the show was trying to push!

To your question “how long before elves decide to do the easy thing instead of the right thing,” we already have an answer. There is an elf who isn’t bothered by questions of doing the right thing.

Who only really cares about increasing his own power in the quickest way possible, regardless of who he harms, corrupts or kills along the way.

And it’s this guy:

In spite of mastering all six Primal Sources, he still turns to Dark Magic as a means to get what he wants. Which does give us the answer to your question--when an elven doesn’t care about the right thing, merely the easy thing, they too turn to Dark Magic. That’s the corrupting influence of this branch of magic. Aaravos should have had all the power he needed, but he wanted more.

And what does he do with his power once he has it? He eclipses the Sun Nexus, creating perpetual night over Lux Auera and quite possibly wiping out the city. That should drive home what “unlimited power” means with regard to Dark Magic--you can quite possibly destroy Primal Sources at will. You can’t do that with Primal Magic.

But Primal Mages, at least who we’ve seen, don’t particularly care to bolster their own power over the lives of others because, honestly, they’re kinda indifferent to them. And that’s their flaw--not power-lust, but apathy to the plight or struggles of people.

Keep in mind, they’re not unkind or callous toward others. Lujanne, for instance, is nice and will help Team Zym...when they ask her to. It’s why she simultaneously tells the group that “dark forces are pursuing you” while still being willing to show Callum around and letting the team drag their heals. Rayla was quite indignant at that (”I thought you were on my side!”).

Or, she helps Ez get to Xadia because Soren asks her to, then wanders off to fuck around with other humans, while a war for the future of the world is fought.

Ibis is similar--he suggests to Callum that the group simply leaves with Zym rather than make their stand, thus giving Viren the opportunity to gain power. He helps out in finding dragons to fight alongside them, but we never see him take part in the battle itself. Just like Lujanne, he helps the group with their goals but doesn’t engage directly with any threats.

The differences between Dark and Primal Mages are similar to the Sith and the Jedi in the Prequel Trilogy. The Sith are power-hungry, perhaps beginning their fall to the Dark Side out of a goal to protect their loved ones or a similar aim before being corrupted by their desire for power and domination. The Jedi, however, are “keepers of the peace,” and will get involved when that peace is disrupted...and turn a blind eye to slavery on worlds like Tatooine. They’ll preserve the status quo, but don’t do much else, which is why the Separatist Crisis was started in the first place; countless worlds were irate that the Republic, and by extension, the Jedi Council, ignored their problems and struggles.

Primal Mages are the Jedi in this situation. From what we could ascertain, they didn’t do much of anything to help the humans before they were desperate enough to turn to Dark Magic. The fact that a human learning an arcanum was so surprising just shows how little anyone tried to help humanity before dismissing them as a lost cause.

This is also why Callum is such a standout example of a mage. He rejects the temptation of Dark Magic while also deciding to stay and fight to defend Zym. He’s chosen who he wants to be, and he’s not going to make the same mistakes that mages from either camp have made.

Primal Magic has its flaws, but to say that Dark Magic and Primal Magic both represent power and share the same temptations misses the larger point.

As for Claudia supposedly being “selfish”, yeah, this is where you are absolutely being dishonest to demonize Claudia. Soren was not willing to accept his condition. It was blatantly obvious that he was just having a breakdown and trying to find silver-linings whereever he could. Even his first poem was basically him lamenting his new situation. And he was very obviously happy when Claudia fixed his spine.

You would have a point had Claudia actually obtained Soren’s consent. The fact that she didn’t even bother to ask his permission violated his agency. Even after she was done, Soren never found out what it cost for him to be healed.

All of this is extremely problematic. It’s not a small thing that medical practitioners seek out consent from their patients, even when the treatment is painless, simple, and safe. The autonomy that people have over their own bodies is of utmost importance, something that can’t be dismissed with a simple “Oh well he was unhappy anyway, he would have said yes if I asked.”

I think that, deep down, even now, Claudia is a good person. She thinks what she’s choosing to do with her magic is ultimately the right thing. It’s just that, in her mind, other people don’t get to choose.

So forgive me if I think that meta about primal magic you plan to write is going to be a bunch of drivel that admits elves wen’t too far in commiting genocide but ultimately doesn’t see how being born with the power to crush armies might make you at least as tempted to solve all your problems with sheer force as the ability to turn chains into snakes.

Hopefully, the little that I wrote about Primal Magic assuaged your worries somewhat. There’s a lot more to write about this form of magic, most of which can’t fit here.

And it’s not like creatures with Primal Magic never use sheer force to try and solve their problems (that’s exactly what Sol Regem attempts to do). But when you look at what you can do with Primal Magic versus what you can do with Dark Magic, the former simply doesn’t compare. This isn’t an apples to apples comparison in terms of raw power.

For @atreefullofstars:

And miss me with “dark magic is easy and dark mages don’t sacrifice anything so everything they do is selfish.” Yeah, characters in the show–the ones who already don’t like dark magic–have said that a few times. But what’s shown on screen is dark mages collapsing, falling ill, panting, and turning corpselike and clearly unhealthy from using it, when nothing like that happens to primal mages. What is “Claudia doesn’t lose anything other than a streak of black hair” supposed to mean? She didn’t make a magical trade, her hair color for Soren’s spine; if that were the case she wouldn’t have needed the deer. She did something so difficult, that put so much physical strain on her body, that it turned some of her hair white. When that happens in real life, there are physiological consequences way beyond hair color; the hair is just a clear visual representation of how badly that strained her body.

Lets set aside whether Dark Mages never sacrifice anything for their magic (Ziard, for instance, sacrificed his life to save Elarion; Callum fell into a coma). What I’m talking about is in this particular case--Claudia momentarily collapses from using a lot of Dark Magic...then proceeds to get back up again and is none the worse for wear in the next scene. That’s all I’m trying to say. Claudia does not “sacrifice her own well-being” to save her brother when there are no long-term side effects to her other than that one streak (it’s not from the physical strain either; stress-induced grayness doesn’t just come up in one spot and it certainly doesn’t friggin turn already black hair white!).

The streak isn’t supposed to visually represent the strain on her body that was clearly temporary. It visually represents how Dark Magic is slowly starting to change Claudia. One might say it’s corrupting her.

And if that just isn’t enough, if she should have to give up more because she’s supposedly being selfish, well, it’s still more than primal mages sacrifice. What did Callum sacrifice to save Rayla? What did it cost him, what did he lose? Is it selfish that he used his magic to rescue her from falling, because he loves her and doesn’t want his life to change by losing her? What did he give up when he cast Fulminus to selfishly override Ibis’s objections to teaching him? What did it cost him to cast Aspiro and blow Zym up into the air to block out the sun, saving him and Rayla? Every primal spell in the show is “selfish” when you view it through a lens determined to show it that way, and not one of them has a cost. Every good deed anyone has EVER done could be construed as selfish because it made them feel good to do it; even if it was difficult or uncomfortable, they were obviously still satisfying some other principle they value more and getting net benefit.

I think you’re missing the point if you think that the issue with Dark Magic is that it doesn’t come with enough personal sacrifice. Me arguing that Claudia didn’t sacrifice her well-being for Soren isn’t me arguing that she should have.

But as for whether primal mages are selfish...Callum quite nearly falls to his death in a long-shot attempt to save Rayla. And keep in mind, he isn’t trying to save an idea of her, or the portrait of a perfect relationship, or something that he simply desires for himself. He’s trying to save her. And unlike with Claudia, it doesn’t come at anyone else’s expense--just, potentially, himself.

Before that, he puts himself between Zym/Rayla and scores of enhanced soldiers. He risks his life just to protect them. Before that, he crushes a moon opal to learn the truth about Rayla’s parents, so she can feel free to make her own choice (and this was the epitome of selflessness; he didn’t attempt to convince her to leave with them. If she wanted to stay, fight and die, Callum was willing to accept that. Think about that when you say that every primal spell in the show is somehow selfish).

And before that, he uses Fulminis to get Ibis’s attention so he could learn magic...so that he could protect Zym and his friends from Viren’s army. Throughout all of Season 3, Callum does magic primarily to help others and never just for himself. It doesn’t come at the expense of anyone else’s life or anyone’s agency. That’s the difference between Callum and Claudia--to reduce all of that to just “well any choice is selfish when you think about it” is just pure nihilism.

#claudia #dark magic #soren #callum #viren #ibis #lujanne #aaravos #the dragon prince #tdp #tdp meta #callum x claudia #primal magic #rayla #zym

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d3-iseefire · 4 years

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To Chase The Rising Sun, Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Bilba was once again sitting, this time at her dining room table, feet crossed and propped on the edge. She had her chair pushed back on two legs, and was idly rocking it back and forth a few inches as she listened to the pandemonium her announcement had caused.

From what she could gather the dwarves had not, in fact, been presenting her with surety for her assistance.

The fact they were carrying on to such an extent over the very suggestion was insulting.

Mandar, curled over her crossed arms, quite agreed if the low hissing he was giving off was any indication.

Her eyes drifted back toward Fili, as she’d heard him called. He was speaking quietly with the dark-haired dwarf he’d arrived with, a sight that sent a burst of envy through her unlike anything she’d felt in a very long time.

Unlike his more hysterical counterparts, he’d merely raised an eyebrow at her announcement, and was now sitting comfortably at her table as if nothing at all untoward were happening. The reaction only served to increase her desire to keep him.

The rest were still at risk of being eaten.

“Enough.” She barely raised her voice, but the others fell silent as if the idiot had spoken instead of her.

Strangely enough, he’d been fairly quiet where he sat. He was glowering, which she was beginning to believe was his base expression, and had his arms crossed but was otherwise silent.

She could admit it had raised her estimation of him a little.

A very little.

“I did not invite you into my home and provide you food and shelter to be insulted.” Mandar added his own chatter and hiss before hunkering down to glare at them all.

“You’ve been offered no insult,” the bald one said in annoyance. “If anything it’s us—“

Another dwarf, older and with a more pleasant expression, cut him off. “Our apologies, my Lady. You are correct.”

Bilba studied him, searching for a placating tone, but found none. The older dwarf continued. “I fear we’ve run into a cultural difference. While we are happy to offer surety for your services--” Here there was a shuffling that suggested a lie to his words, “we do not offer our members as collateral. Each of us is free to choose their own destiny.”

Bilba tilted her head idly to one side. “Is that so?” She shifted her gaze toward Thorin. “Did you not declare yourself the king of the dwarves?”

He inclined his head slightly. “I did, and I am.”

Bilba nodded towards Fili. “And is he not your nephew and, therefore, a prince?”

She’d heard him greet the idiot as Uncle soon after her proclamation, right before he’d headed into the kitchen to grab food. It was an unfortunate flaw, but one she was willing to overlook.

Thorin nodded. “Fili is my sister’s son, and my heir.”

Bilba smiled in spite of herself. "Then, as members of a royal family,” she said, tone deceptively mild, “do you not believe in arranged marriages?”

Dead silencee.

Thorin’s eyes narrowed.

I'm giving you your precious mountain back," Bilba dropped one foot to the ground and pushed against the table with the other until her chair’s balance on its back legs become precarious. “In return, I get my share of the treasure,” she lifted her hand to point at Fili, “and marriage to him as surety.”

Her gaze followed her finger, just in time to see Fili, focused on his plate, fighting back a grin. He found what she was doing amusing rather than offensive or threatening and, damn it all if that didn’t just make her want to keep him even more. Wasn't she the one who'd just been lecturing Gandalf on emotional control?

How ironic.

A babble of voices started to break out yet again but cut off sharply when Thorin barked out a command. "A royal marriage," he said pointedly, "is called such for a reason. Particularly when it concerns the heir, whose progeny will sit upon the throne after him.”

The older dwarf looked horrified. Gandalf shut his eyes and lowered his head with a sigh while, in Bilba’s arms, Mandar went completely still.

A ribbon of ice threaded it way through Bilba's veins and, for the first time since Fili had arrived, Bilba felt the fire in her blood settle. Somewhat. In her arms, Mandar grumbled worriedly under his breath and edged his way onto the table, getting clear of her.

"Are you suggesting, your Majesty," Bilba started, deceptively calm, "that I'm good enough to risk my life on your behalf, but not worthy of marrying your heir?"

The older dwarf started to speak but Bilba held up a hand and he fell silent. She didn't want rhetoric from someone clearly versed in it. She wanted the truth.

"Marriage to my heir is not on the table," Thorin declared flatly.

Bilba cocked an eyebrow, waiting to see if he'd keep talking and insult her further but, surprising her once again, he shut his mouth and went silent. Somewhere, someone must have taught him the basics of diplomacy, even if he had either forgotten most of it or willfully chose to ignore it.

She dropped her other foot on the ground and allowed the front legs of the chair to hit the floor with a bang. She stood and retrieved Mandar from where he was trying to curl into a very small ball on the table. He let out a squeak but didn't resist.

"I see." Ice laced her words, and her eyes glittered. "In that case, enjoy the dragon. I have no doubt he'll enjoy you."

With that, she walked out of the room.

***

Bilba retreated to a second pantry located down the hall, and well away from the kitchen. It hadn’t been raided quite as badly as the first, leaving a few shelves still stocked.

She didn't bother with a lantern but simply pulled the door so that only a slit of the light from the hall shone through. She went to the far back corner, leaned against the wall and sank down to sit cross-legged on the floor. Mandar settled on her lap and she dropped her head back against the wall and closed her eyes with a groan.

Her gut churned and a low tremor ran over her limbs. Her breathing came in short pants and she forced herself to breathe slowly in through her mouth as deep as possible before releasing it through her nose.

Mandar chattered at her from where he had been staying very small and quiet in her lap.

“No,” Bilba breathed out. He chattered again, hopeful, and she chuckled. "No, you can't either." She struggled to relax, pressed her shoulders back into the wall and then groaned in exasperation. “This is ridiculous."

She'd planned to ultimately say yes before Fili showed up. Thorin was an ass, but she had bigger concerns than him. The Shire could use the gold. The dragon needed to be dealt with eventually and that responsibility would fall on her no matter what.

She’d intended to let the idiot stew a bit, show him she wasn't someone he could just push around or treat like an underling, and then graciously agree to go. It was bigger than her, this quest, and there was no room for her ego on it.

That had been her plan.

And then Fili had shown up, and now she and Thorin were both backed into a corner. Neither of them could back down without losing face, and even if Bilba could bring herself to do that...she wouldn't.

It was selfish, but it was the truth.

She wasn't going without first ensuring Fili was hers and no others.

He already felt like hers, even if she recognized logically that he wasn't. He'd walked Middle Earth for untold years without her knowing about him and it had been fine, but now that she did know....

Her, and the rest of Hobbiton as soon as the sun rose.

Mandar clambered off her lap, distracted by the sight of preserved fish on a lower shelf, and Bilba took the opportunity to draw her legs up, wrap her arms around them and drop her head on her knees.

"That bad?"

Bilba jerked her head back up, eyes wide. Several feet away, Mandar's head also came up, half a fish hanging from his jaws.

Fili stood in the now open doorway, shoulder braced against the frame, arms crossed, and one foot propped in front of the other.

Bilba scowled. No one had snuck up on her in ages. She re-crossed her legs and Mandar picked his way back over to settle down with his fish.

"You aren't supposed to be eating that,” she told the small dragon with a sigh. “Isen and Mara left food for you.”

Mandar gave a happy chatter and continued to eat his fish.

Fili chuckled, the sound a deep rumble in his chest, and Bilba's stomach twisted in on itself.

Mine, her mind chanted. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine.

"Are they all his size?" Fili asked.

Bilba moved to a crouch, setting Mandar on the ground with his fish, and looked up at him. "Mandar's a baby. A spoiled, obnoxious, smartass baby."

Mandar paused long enough to glare at her before returning to his fish. He was very single minded when he wanted to be.

"He’s the only one I’ve seen," Fili confessed. "I’ve heard tales of the Shire, and half expected to be dodging dragons as we came up the lane."

"Had you come during the day you might have." Bilba stood and leaned back against the wall behind her, clasping her hands at the small of her back. "Dragons sleep at night, just like you or I." She gave a pointed look at Mandar. "Unless they're very young and refuse to go so sleep when they're told."

That earned her a long stream of chatter from the tiny dragon that Bilba ignored. Instead she studied Fili. it was the first time she’d really had a chance to stand and look at him without distractions and, she had to say, upon closer inspection he did not disappoint.

He was taller and bigger than her, which was to be expected, with a strong, and athletic body. The way he held himself spoke of confidence, if not outright cockiness, and she had no doubt the weapons he carried weren’t just for show.

His hair was just as beautiful as the first time she’d seen it and, combined with his voice, created an overall portrait that was simply breathtaking.

Fili cleared his throat, eyes flicking downward, and Bilba followed his gaze to see Mandar slowly trying to creep his way past into the hallway. With a “tsk,” she grabbed the small dragon by the hind legs and hauled him back in.

He complained, loudly, but she found a fish he’d missed on a higher shelf and handed it to him.

“Is it really that important?” Fili asked suddenly. “Marrying someone you’ve never met?”

Bilba’s eyes shifted toward him and then back to Mandar. “Do you think I’m simply going to walk into Erebor and demand the dragon leave?” She wrapped her arms around Mandar and held him up toward Fili. “Dragons have minds, and wills, of their own.”

“Then what will you do?” Fili asked with a frown.

Bilba shrugged. “I’ll most likely have to force him out.” She settled Mandar on a shelf near her and faced Fili. “I’ll be putting my life on the line, and all for someone who sees me as unworthy of marrying his heir.” Mandar, finished with his fish, and leapt off onto her back. “So, yes, it is that important.”

Fili pushed off the door frame and stood straight, feet set apart and arms crossed. “And what do you get out of marrying me?”

“Bragging rights,” Bilba said dryly. That and she got to ensure no one else could ever have him, but he didn’t need to know that.

He chuckled, looked down to hide a grin and shook his head. When he looked back up he almost had his expression neutral. “And if you marry me and fail to secure Erebor?”

Bilba shrugged. “Then you’ll be free to do as you wish.”

Most likely because, in that case, she’d most likely be dead.

Fili’s eyes narrowed slightly as if he saw through what she’d just said and her estimation of him, which was already high, went up another few notches.

On a whim, Bilba stepped closer to him, near enough she could feel heat radiating from his body. Dwarves ran hotter than the other races, but she’d never been near enough to one to realize just how much hotter.

She was beginning to regret not having had more contact with outsiders.

“Here.” She coaxed Mandar off her shoulders and onto her arm. At her urging, Fili gave her a startled look, but then held his own arm out.

Mandar grumbled, but obediently stepped over and onto Fili’s arm where he wobbled a bit as he turned around to face back toward her. He crouched, using the claws at the tip of his wings to anchor himself, and wrapped his tail around Fili’s arm,all the way up to the shoulder.

Mandar gave Bilba a baleful look that suggested he was expecting all the fish in return for this.

“Oh, hush,” Bilba whispered, lightly stroking his head. “It’s not that bad and you know it.”

Mandar begged to disagree but he suffered in silence. Fili, eyes wide with wonder, tentatively put a hand on Mandar’s head where Bilba showed him and scratched his eye ridge. Mandar did his very best to remain unimpressed but Bilba saw him put his head up in appreciation and to get a better scratch.

“He’s heavier than I thought he would be,” Fili murmured.

“You get used to it.” Bilba put her arm out and Mandar happily swarmed back, up her arm and into place on her shoulders.

Fili studied the little dragon. “You’re sure you can take care of Smaug?”

“I’m sure that I’m the only chance you have,” Bilba said, which both was, and was not, an answer.

Fili nodded. “All right.” His eyes met hers and Bilba felt that fire reignite at the intensity in them. “In that case, I accept your proposal.”

Follow on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ISeeFire

#My Writing #Fanfic #Fanfiction #Writing #Tolkien #Hobbit #The Hobbit #Fili #Female Bilbo Baggins #Dragons #AU #Alternate Universe

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sebastianshaw · 5 years

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“You’re sure?” Shinobi asked yet again, “The potential power you could wield...I realize the goals of the Hellfire Club have changed somewhat, but Krakoa is still--” Harry Leland waved a chubby, thick-fingered hand from across the table, “It’s not about power, my boy. I shan’t lie and say I no longer desire it--I am no such ascetic saint---but it is a desire I have realized I must abstain from. I realize that is a foreign concept for men such as us, but I’m quite doing my best, for my own good. I do appreciate the offer, though, it’s very kind of you.” “Well,” said Shinobi, cautiously, not sure about admitting what he said next, “You were always very kind to me.” It wasn’t that he thought that Harry---his “Uncle Leland” as he had called him growing up--was going to taunt him for this. It was just that revealing any kind of vulnerability, even something most people wouldn’t count as such, bothered him. Any sign of weakness always made him tense, a physical anticipation his father was about to beat him for it. Not like Uncle Leland. Uncle Leland had always smiled at him when he saw him, called him “dear boy”, always had some kind of old-fashioned candy for him and, if he was expecting him, some kind of small but expensive gift. Nothing a young boy would actually like, Harry didn’t have children and he didn’t know a thing about them, but it was the only affection Shinobi had ever received from an adult man. The fact Harry was in proximity to his father, that he was someone his father liked and presumably approved of, made it even better. If someone his father approved of approved of Shinobi in turn, it was ALMOST like getting a bit of his father’s approval, in his childish logic back then.

It couldn’t be said that Harry ever was close with Shinobi or took on any kind of fatherly role, they didn’t see each other often enough for that, he’d never even hugged him (which, Shinobi understood as an adult, a grown single man hugging a friend’s young son would be considered weird, but as a kid who didn’t understand the implications, he’d wished he would once or twice) and Shinobi had been hurt later on when he’d realized that Harry called EVERYONE “dear boy”, he had called WOLVERINE that for crying out loud, and here Shinobi had thought it was his special nickname---but still. Still. It was the most he’d ever gotten from any adult that was not his mother, and he’d treasured it deeply, even concocting a fantasy that Harry Leland was his biological father. A fantasy he still thought possible---his poor mother had been Sebastian’s toy, he wouldn’t put it past the old bastard to pass her around to his buddies like some party favor at the Hellfire Club. Though as long as Shinobi was going to dream up things that could never be, he’d like to imagine something tenderer, something that fit his image of Uncle Leland and didn’t involve his mother being further degraded to support her son. Like Uncle Leland marrying his mother and them all moving far away somewhere and being happy. Childish tripe. But then, he’d been a child. He wasn’t anymore. And he had duly left such candy floss fantasies behind. But he still wanted, in the sole tiny pocket of generosity that existed in his selfish soul, wanted to give something back to Harry Leland. The best thing he could think of was promising him the seat of Black Bishop once he had moved up from it. “I don’t understand,” he said, trying to process what Harry had said, “Is it because it’s not my father making the offer, you don’t think it’s guaranteed without his approval? Because once I take power as the Red---” “Dear boy,” said Harry patiently, “You indeed do not understand. But that is, in itself, understandable. You have the confidence of youth, despite your trials beyond your age, and you have your father leading you every step of the way on top of that. What I told you just now must seem incomprehensible, but it’s the truth. Seeking power may work for some. In the end, all it got me was an early---and oft-disturbed---grave. Krakoa is a place of new beginnings. All I want to do is regain enough of my former finances---the paperwork for that is a mess, they really MUST learn to make allowances for mutants, as we have demonstrated we are BOUND to come back from the dead--to live comfortably as I am accustomed to, and then stay away from these political games for the rest of my natural life, and whatever unnatural ones I might yet again wind up in.” Shinobi just...looked at him. He got the words alright, but, as Harry himself said, he couldn’t understand. “You don’t have to be scared of dying again,” he finally said, “You know that. It’s not permanent anymore.” “It was never permanent in the first place, dear boy, I was dragged back to life TWICE before this, once with you if you recall, though certainly neither time was as...pleasant, as this.” “So what’s the problem then?” Shinobi’s voice came out shriller, more emotional than he had intended. Indeed, more than he expected. He hadn’t realized how much he had WANTED Harry to say yes. He had thought he was just being nice, and perhaps making a smart decision---Leland had always been one of the very few members of the Hellfire Club with a sense of LOYALTY, something neither Shinobi nor his father could boast. Having him with them would be an advantage, one they didn’t have to worry about turning on them. He’d...he’d thought he’d just been thinking practically. But now his own reactions showed him it had been more than that. Yet again, he hated himself for displaying this, this weakness, this need, this vulnerability. But he’d wanted this. He’d had this idea of himself and his father and Harry Leland ruling all together, his father approving him and his “uncle” being there and it just...it just being everything he’d wanted. And now Harry Leland was turning him down, taking it away. Shinobi felt...betrayed. Of all the people he’d thought would ever hurt him, Harry Leland and his mother had been the only two not on the list. That made this sting far harder than it would from almost anyone else. In Shinobi’s mind, it wasn’t the offer that Uncle Leland was pushing away---it was Shinobi himself. Rejected by his father so much, so often, so brutally, so completely, had made Shinobi oversensitive as an adult to any kind of rejection, taking it deeply personally, like a wound, a wound that made him wild with tearful rage like some hurt animal---as Storm and Archangel could attest, as they had also turned down his offers of Hellfire Club royalty and suffered the violent reactions that resulted. Something that would have been a mere tantrum in a normal man---sad and strange, but not threatening---was potentially fatal with someone who had Shinobi’s powers, and his lack of care for other people. Again, something Storm and Archangel could confirm, though neither had been impressed either. What was it Storm had said? A little boy who needs to bully or buy people into liking him? And he couldn’t do either with Uncle Leland. He didn’t think he’d have to. Across the table, Harry watched Shinobi, a sympathetic expression on his bearded face. He was no psychic or psychologist, and he really didn’t even know Shinobi all that well, but he could tell this had meant a lot to the boy. For whatever reason, probably paternally-related ones, Sebastian’s son had latched on to him at an early age like a little limpid-eyed limpet, and Harry, as soft a touch as a man could be in the world of Hellfire, had allowed it. Indulged it, even. He was an indulgent man. He’d felt sorry for the scrawny little boy scurrying about the legs of old men in business suits in a place that was surely both boring to a child, and somewhere that one should never be brought. And though he’d never witnessed physical abuse, he had always felt, from what interactions he’d seen, that Sebastian was too hard on the boy, too sharp with his directions and reprimands. But then, it hadn’t been Harry’s business, and he knew nothing about the raising of children anyway. Still, he’d been fond of the little urchin, for all that he saw him sparingly. He had no idea the pedestal than Shinobi had put him on. He just knew that the young man’s face now greatly resembled that of a stray dog that had been kicked. It would not be fair to call Harry Leland a kind man. He knew this. He had murdered before for personal gain, and he had been prepared to let worse things happen in the pursuit of power, and he regretted neither, at least not for moral reasons, only in that it had not worked out to his benefit at the end. But he also was also not unkind. When he had killed those in his way, or had them killed, when he had briefly had the upper hand against the X-Men, all those times he had never taken pleasure in it nor drawn it out, never even taunted his opponent or victim. He was cordial at all times, affable even. He did what he had to to advance himself, but he would not cause any additional distress in the process. And he had, again, always been fond of the boy. He’d never seemed cut out for Hellfire to Harry, of course, but then, neither did Harry himself. Perhaps that was why Harry liked him. And he didn’t want to see him cry, which it looked like he was about to do. Actually, Shinobi was trying to figure out WHAT he could do besides cry, because the only other option was a violent, uncontrolled outburst, and he was trying to behave with more...decorum...these days...especially since his father seemed to have lost a lot of his...but he didn’t know what to do when hurt except lash out the way he had never been able to as a helpless child. He didn’t know how to recruit people---just drive them away. Like Warren, and Betsy, and Ororo, and now worst of all, Unc--- “Shinobi? Lad?” Uncle Leland’s tone was...gentle. Shinobi suddenly felt a hot stab of anger at the idea the old man might be pitying him. It was the one thing he couldn’t bear, it was even worse than rejection, and he was snapped out of his confusion by this, ready to rip the old man’s heart out because what did it matter, it wouldn’t be for keeps, it would-- “Walk with me, will you?” Harry Leland had stood up, and was offering a hand to Shinobi. To his own surprise, Shinobi took it.

#fic #writing

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dlucets · 5 years

Text

fickle love | oikawa tooru x reader

Title: Fickle Love Fandom: Haikyuu!! Character: Oikawa Tooru Genre: Angst Word Count: 1810 Extra Info: From my dA!!! Originally written in 2017 sometime hehe ;; i tried to do something a bit different with the formatting here, but idk. one day i’ll revise this i know dkhskjfhs

一

She first told him that she loved him on a crisp winter's day.

When snow blanketed the ground and dusted his hair, like somebody had sieved small amounts of frosting sugar through his hair to give him a sweeter appearance. When the trees groaned and wept their loss of green leaves, long lost to the bitterness of the biting temperatures that had seized hold of the city, yet the city was in high spirits. For decorations covered every crevice of the town, and the atmosphere that the warm colours set off melted the stand-offish feeling that had crept into his heart.

So for once, he didn't ignore the girl who had confessed. He didn't walk straight past her with nothing more than a sideways glance.

Instead, he turned to face her. Really face her. Taking in her features, from the curve of her jaw to the bridge of her nose and the shape and colour of her eyes. The way she wore her hair beneath the hat she wore and the way her scarf almost covered the lower part of her face, shadowing her bottom lip.

And he allowed a smile to tip his lips upwards, crinkling his eyes slightly as he observed her.

A smile that froze as he processed her words again in his mind, and the only response that he could think of was one that sang of melancholia and poisoned hope.

How can you love someone who’s dying?

二

He kissed her only a week later.

When the frost of the winter was indelible, sinking into every bone in his body and loading him down with a feverish chill that made him wish he’d taken to his bed and stayed there all day. But he’d opted to leave, to go and meet the girl who’d said she loved him. The girl who’d had their confession accepted by him, and had arranged a date for them.

And they’d sat in the warm confines of a coffee shop, in the late hours of the morning, discussing familial matters and how much had changed since they’d both gone their separate ways to different universities. And what they wished to do with their future, to which he’d shot her a sad smile and simply held his coffee cup in his hands a slight bit tighter.

It wasn’t that she didn’t know he was sick. Everyone knew that the young, once prestigous volleyball setter had become sick. It was something of common knowledge.

She just didn’t know he was dying. That was something he’d chose to keep private.

And he didn’t want her to lose hope.

So he took her face in his cold hands, practically frozen against the delicate warmth of her skin, as though his body was already dead. And he leant into her, his lips gently pressing against her own ones. Nothing outstanding, just something short and sweet and gentle. There wasn’t a spark that he noticed, but he didn’t miss the faint blush running to her cheeks as they parted and she gazed up at him.

“Tooru, you idiot. I don’t think I’ve ever been kissed on my first date,” she grumbled.

“Hmm?” he asked, a hint of laughter in his voice as he shoved his cool hands into his pockets, “well, life’s too short to pace yourself.”

三

He didn’t intend on her ever finding out, regardless of how selfish that sounded or how heartless it seemed to be to lead her on. It was in his best intentions to turn away from her, to walk away before he got too emotionally invested with a person who deserved more than he could ever offer them.

He stared at himself in the mirror. At the grave circles underneath his eyes and the way the light could accentuate each and every rib he had. A clear outline that made him feel sick, weak, pathetic, at the boy who stared back at him.

And he asked himself, his voice a decibel below a whisper, barely a rasp:

“What does she see in me?”

And he resolved, then and there, in his heart, to shut things off before they escalated.

She didn’t love him really anyway. It was more an infatuation. Love takes time to grow, and he didn’t have that.

四

“(Y/N)? I need to talk to you,”

“Sure, Tooru. What’s up?”

“I don’t think this is working out.”

“Wh… you can’t just say that,”

“I just did.”

“You can’t. You can’t say that. You can’t break up with me over a phone call when- when you just kissed me!”

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re not breaking up with me. We’re not breaking up, Toor-”

The line went blank. So she tried, and tried and tried and tried, to phone him again. Only to receive the same monotonous message each time.

“The person you are calling isn’t available right now. Please try again, or leave a message after the beep.”

五

You have 50 new messages, 6 voicemails, and 18 missed calls from (Y/N)!

Sighing, he tapped out a message, allowing his heart to freeze over with a familiar frost as his fingers flew across the screen.

Tooru: Stop messaging me. We’re over. It’d be best if you didn’t try to contact me again.

六

His head hurt. His heart hurt.

He didn’t know why - perhaps it was the illness that was ravaging his body, perhaps it was the burden that this situation had caused. He didn’t know why. Why he’d stopped that day in the park, why he’d listened to her say the things she said, about how she liked him - maybe even loved him.

It was a hammering pain, searing through his temples. Unbearable, despite the number of chemicals that he’d tried to down to eat up the pain. Nothing. Just a white noise in his mind, cotton balls stuffed in his head, and the thudding pain that raged on.

That was all he could remember about his day when his head met his pillow.

A familiar beat of sadness. Of pain.

He wanted it to end.

七

“Iwaizumi?”

He was propped up in a hospital bed now. Staring down at the white bedsheets and trying, trying trying trying to make sense of the words he wanted to say. But there was a blockage, and his brain didn’t want to say the things his heart wanted to say. Iwaizumi knew that.

So when the words left his mouth, Iwaizumi didn’t think much of it.

Just a sick man talking, a sick man whose state of mind was frighteningly deteriorating out of control.

“I don’t think I deserve to be alive anymore,”

“Shut up. Get back to sleep.”

“No. Seriously. It must be karma or something, right? That’s made me get sick. Nature’s way of telling me that I’m a terrible person. That I don’t deserve this life, because I only mess things up all the time and- and… I’m satisfied with that, somehow.” His eyes glazed over with tears at the realisation of the weight of the statement he’d just made.

He was satisfied with the fact that he was dying.

But he couldn’t find a bone in his body that protested to this fact.

八

“Hello? This is (Y/N) speaking.”

“It’s Oikawa Tooru’s mother.”

She felt her heart plummet at the words, at the broken tone she used and the formalities that laced every grief-stricken word she said.

“What’s wrong?”

“He wants you here, at the hospital.”

The hospital? (Y/N)’s hands lost their grip on her phone, feeling her heart lurch in her throat and her stomach work itself into knots.

She barely made it to the bathroom before she threw up, out of fear or the cold that had been developing over the past few days, she knew not.

But she knew one thing.

She had to see Oikawa Tooru once more. Or she’d be damned.

Even though she wanted to scream at him, to slap his face and throw a vase at him like what happens in break-ups on the big screen. Even though her heart sank at the mere thought of his family name, she knew she had to see him.

九

“Honestly, (Y/N), I didn’t think you’d come.”

She shook her head, “why wouldn’t I?”

“Because I don’t… deserve you. I don’t deserve someone who loves me, yet I can’t even return an ounce of that love to you,” he mumbled, “I’m a really crappy person, when you get down to it.”

She didn’t answer him, and he didn’t say anything more, just stared at the plain ceiling that had began to swim in front of his eyes.

You didn’t do anything wrong to deserve such a terrible partner, honestly. I don’t- I just… I feel disgusted that I somehow made you love me. Me, someone who doesn’t even deserve to be living, to be breathing. Me, who’s played with so many people’s feelings and hearts and ruined lives. Me, a homewrecker, a cheat, a liar. Me, Oikawa Tooru, the lying man who’s finally paying the price.

She grabs hold of his hand.

And she knows it’s futile, really. Because she can’t make him love her back. But she does it anyway. As if her actions are somewhat healing, a reparation to permanent damage.

The words stick in his throat, and he doesn’t manage to say anything that he wants to say.

But the ghosts of the syllables and letters hang above them like a spirit, a wisp of a soul, a ghost from long ago that looms over their heads and will continue to do until time indefinite.

十

She last told him she loved him on a crisp spring day.

When the warmth of spring had drank up the remnants of snow that had stuck to the ground for weeks, and a brief February shower had washed away the last of the sludge-like snow that remained adamant on staying. When the breeze was still fairly cold, but there was a new warm chill to it that whispered of new beginnings whenever it gushed past her, whenever its warm caress tickled her ears.

She kneeled down by the gravestone, a lump in her throat as she lay down the white lilies and her heart ached with a pain that hadn’t gone away since that day when she’d last clasped his deathly cold hand.

But she allowed a smile to dust itself across her lips as the words left her mouth. A long, slow, sigh that shuddered as it rattled through her bones and exited her mouth.

“I love you, still.”

Even though a question had slowly been working its way around her chest, a serpent tightening itself round and round her body, starving her lungs of oxygen as she looked at the grave with a last withering glance.

How can you love someone who’s dead?

終わり

#oikawa tooru x reader #oikawa tōru #oikawa imagine #oikawa tooru scenario #oikawa tooru imagine #oikawa tooru #oikawa #haikyuu scenario #haikyuu x reader #seijoh x reader #haikyuu reader insert #oikawa tooru reader insert

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groundzerobakugo · 6 years

Text

just another hero // k. bakugou; part two

gender in this imagine will be female, if you wish for me to create this with male or genderneutral pronouns please feel free to send a message my way! i would be happy to help!

word count: 1.9k

summary: with second year beginning, you’re too sure what to expect. first year was a wild ride, but you have a feeling the second won’t be any different, especially as feelings for a certain hothead begin to arise.

quirk: plant manipulation.

part one.

...

you were sat outside of the nurse's office; textbook in the chair next to you and a notebook in your lap. you had your earbuds in as you waited for uraraka to finish with recovery girl scanning her injuries. you were working on hero laws, a subject you somewhat struggled in.

you were so engrossed in the subject, you had failed to notice someone take a seat next to you.

"what does that even mean?" you mumbled, clicking your pen against the paper repeatedly. you had nearly jumped when you felt a finger tap your shoulder; you turned quickly with your eyes wide in surprise. "oh, todoroki-san, it's just you."

the boy offered a small smile, "sorry for startling you, (name), i came up here after my battle to check on you and uraraka-san."

"that's nice of you," you replied as you returned the smile. "uraraka's almost done getting checked out, but she'll be in there for an hour or so while her rip heals. i feel kinda bad," your voice quiet, eyes drifting off.

"don't blame yourself," todoroki said, "aizawa had told you both not to hold back. though, that was pretty impressive. even bakugo-san looked surprised."

your eyes widened at that, "really? b-but nothing surprises him?!"

"you didn't tell us you could do that," he continued. "with a move like that, though, you'll definitely be a fierce competitor in the sports festival."

"you really think so, todoroki-san?" a small blush bloomed across your cheeks with his compliment.

"of course," he replied. his eyes wandered to your paper, "oh, are you getting a headstart on homework?"

your brows knitted in frustration, "yeah, but i can't seem to get it just yet. i guess hero laws are a bit more challenging than i would have hoped. they're just so boring, and—wait!"

todoroki jumped at the raise in your voice. "yes?"

"you're good at hero laws, right? can you help me?" you pouted, "pretty please?"

"o-oh, sure, (name)," he smiled. "i'll do my best, but i think yaororozu-san is a bit more suited for this."

"nonsense, you're a lot smarter than you give yourself credit for," you replied, "besides, while you help me, i can help with whatever's been eating at you."

todoroki's brows furrowed, "how-?"

you shrugged, "you can call it a second quirk, or just call me observant, but i can tell something's up, todoroki-san. you're a bit more distanced than when we left for break."

his face softened, "i see we'll be continuing from last year."

"huh? what do you mean?" you asked, genuinely confused.

"the class therapist," he said.

"oh," you blushed. "well, i just don't like seeing my friends in pain. i like helping out."

he placed his hand on top of your head, ruffling your hair affectionately, "we're all grateful, trust me, (name)."

you smiled brightly, "good! so, what's wrong, todoroki-san?"

he hesitated; his eyes glossed over for a moment as he thought of how to put his feelings into words. "it... it's a bit complicated. it may take a while to explain."

"like i said, uraraka won't be officially released for another hour," you replied, "so i have time."

"can we talk... elsewhere? somewhere more private?" he asked as he stood from his seat.

"of course," you stood next to him. "wherever you like, lead the way."

he smiled, and you two wandered off, up the stairs, and onto the roof, standing near the edge, only a gate separating you and your impending doom. you couldn't lie—you wanted to sit down and start naming clouds as you usually did coming up here, but you turned to the red and white haired boy staring off into the distance, lost in thought.

"whenever you're ready," you gave his hand a light squeeze with reassurance.

todoroki sighed, "i'm not sure where to start."

"anywhere you'd like, but preferably from the beginning so i can help you better."

"right, well...."

you waited patiently.

"i'm not sure when it all started, exactly, but there's... there's someone i guess that i've developed feelings towards, and i don't know what they mean," he said. "i hope you don't mind i keep them anonymous, even if it is just for my sake."

"it's okay, i don't mind. please, continue."

"right, well, it's just... every time i see them, my heart kinda flutters, i guess is the right world. i can't catch my breath, and i love spending time with them. it may be selfish of me, but... i wish i could spend more time alone with them than i already do," he muttered, a light dust of red across his cheeks. "my hands get all clammy, i can't think straight around them, and while the feeling is a bit annoying, i never want it to end."

your heart warmed ever so slightly, "todoroki, i think i know what's happening."

his eyes widened, "really? what is it?"

"you have what people call a crush," you replied. "everyone has one, some have multiple. you like them, like, like-like them, and well, if you like-like someone, you should tell them."

"oh, i suppose that makes sense," he smiled to himself, but it faltered. "i-i don't think i can. it's not... it's not... it wouldn't be right b-because i think they like someone else."

you gave him a saddened smile, "yeah, that can happen sometimes. to be quite honest, there's a reason it's called a crush. it's a lovely feeling, yes, but it can also be painful. it almost... well, crushes you emotionally. it's never fun, but most of the time, you get over them quickly. you find someone else that gives you that same feeling, and all feels right in the world again."

todoroki nodded to himself, "i think i get it. but, (name), the way you talk about it, have you experienced this, too?"

you nodded, "like i said, everyone has. though, in my experience, they don't last long. it's a fleeting feeling, but it saves me from painful thoughts, i guess. but, regardless of my own experience, i do believe you should tell her."

it was only for a moment, you swore you imagined it, but something changed ever so slightly in todoroki's expression, and it partially clicked in your mind.

"or, should i say him?" you were treading cautiously, your breath stuck in your chest as you didn't wish to overwhelm your friend, and you didn't want to push your boundaries. "i'm sorry if it's not my business, but i don't judge someone on their sexual preference, todoroki-san, and i apologize if i'm wrong and confusing you further. you don't have to say anything, but—"

"you're right."

it was quiet, and you nearly missed it in your babbling. "i won't—wait, what? i'm right about what? did i say something?"

his smile was soft, but as he looked up, his eyes were almost pained. "him."

"him? who him? what him—oh, so, you like a him, not a her," you muttered. "well, what i say still goes. i promise nothing will change between us. whether you're gay, straight, or bisexual, you're still my friend all the same."

it surprised you as todoroki's arms pulled you close, and you stood awkwardly for a moment before you realized what was happening. you wrapped your arms around him as well, heart breaking as you felt his body shaking, soft sobs coming from his lips.

"todoroki-san, it's okay, you're okay," you mumbled to the boy, your hand rubbing his back as you whispered small reassurances. "i don't know what's caused you to break like this, but i'm sorry for pushing and—"

you stopped talking when todoroki pulled away. he used his arm to brush away the tears, body still shaking a bit. his cheeks were puffed and blotchy, eyes red and swollen, the tip of his nose pink from the scratchy gym suit.

"todoroki-san...?" a vine slipped from under your sleeve and curled itself around his pinky. "are you okay?" you stood patiently, a calm yet worried expression on your face; brows furrowed, mouth pulled to a frown, eyes expectant.

"thank you," he finally said after what felt like hours. "i think-no, i needed to hear those words, (name), thank you."

you stepped forward, placing a small kiss on his cheek, "i care for you, todoroki-san, you're one of my closest friends. i know the world isn't exactly as... understanding quite yet, but i'll always be here for you, and your lucky guy."

he smiled softly at that.

"oh, we should head back to uraraka-san, she should be waking up soon," you said as she looked to her phone's clock. "if you want to stay here, i'm okay walking back by myself."

"i think i will stay here," he replied. "but, i can't thank you enough, (name)."

you smiled brightly and turned away, heading back to the stairs. you were, however, surprised to see midoriya heading up your way towards the roof.

"oh, (name), tsu-chan said she saw you come up here with todoroki-san," he said. "uraraka-san just woke up and was asking for you."

"thanks, mirodiya-san," you grinned, "i was just on my way back."

"i-is todoroki-san up there?" he asked, green eyes curious.

you nodded, "he is, we had to... discuss a few things. i think he wants to be alone right now, but you're welcome to join him. i don't think he'd mind your company."

a blush bloomed on his face, "w-well... i'll talk to him, but you should hurry to uraraka-san."

"will do, good luck!" you called, racing down the stairs towards the nurse's office.

it was the first night back at the dorms for the second year heros-in-training, and you had a smile on your face as you stood by watching everyone's happy faces. kirishima and kaminari were wrestling after kaminari had accused kirishima of cheating, jirou, seto, and ashido placing bets, uraraka and asui talking animatedly about a cute boyband they liked, yaororozu and iida arguing over curfews and standards, midoriya and todoroki taking over the game while kirishima and kaminari fought. most others had gone to bed or were in the kitchen doing their classwork, though, occasionally one would comment something about the game that would cause kirishima to begin wrestling kaminari again. everyone looked to be having fun.

well, almost everyone.

your eyes had landed on a slouched blond's figure, tucked away against on the of walls with his brows knitted together, lips pressed tight, arms crossed. he was dressed in a casual tank top and shorts, looking like he was about to head to bed.

but, that wasn't what caught your eye—even if his biceps were a bit impressive. just as you had told todoroki earlier in the day, maybe it was a second quirk, but you were awfully observant.

you pushed yourself off the armchair, excusing yourself from the group as you made your way to the pouty blond. he glared as you neared, but he didn't say anything.

you leaned up against a spot on the wall next to him, "scowling like that can give you wrinkles."

"shut up, plant girl," he scoffed, his eyes flitting back to the group.

"you can always go join them, rather than sulking in a corner, you know," you said.

he clicked his tongue, "i don't fucking sulk."

"fine, we'll call it brooding then," a playful smirk on your lips, "whatever you want to call it, doesn't matter much to me, but... it's a bit dreary all the way over here."

his eyes narrowed, "why don't you just fuck off? i'll stand right damn here if i want to."

you shrugged, "i know, just thought i'd try and help before i went off to bed. there's an open seat now near ashido if you'd like, but it's up to you. goodnight, bakugo-san."

the boy glared at your retreating form, as you bid goodnight to the rest of the class, and until you faded from view. he did not fucking sulk.

...

part three.

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dansoftwell · 6 years

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Dan Howell's Natal Chart

note: first of all, obviously, i'm not the owner of the truth, this is a collection of information that i got, analyzed, classified and tried to put the most important things that make sense. And 2nd, English isn't my main language, i'm sorry for the grammatical error that i didn't see, don't hesitate to correct me.

Introduction: Astrological studies describe many of the character traits and they sometimes go deeper into the understanding of a personality. Please, always keep in mind that human beings are continuously evolving and that many parts of our psychological structures are likely to be expressed later, after having undergone significant life's experiences. It is advised to read a portrait with hindsight in order to appreciate its astrological content. Under this condition, you will be able to take full advantage of this type of study. The analysis of an astrological portrait consists in understanding four types of elements which interact with one another: ten planets, twelve zodiacal signs, twelve houses, and what are called aspects between planets (the 11 aspects most commonly used are: conjunction, opposition, square, trine, sextile, quincunx, semi-sextile, sesqui-quadrate, quintile and bi-quintile. The first 5 aspects enumerated are called major aspects).

And remember, the stars don't define personalities, they only tilt it.

Dan's planets and positions

• Personality profile.

The Ascendant is in Cancer and the ruler of the Ascendant is the Moon, in Gemini: His behaviour.

Psychologically speaking, his nature is dreamy, oriented towards nostalgia for things past. He's very instinctive and protects himself against the outside world. His inner life is rich, with fertile and even unlimited imagination, a propensity to avoid unnecessary risks and to pursue security. He shows his true face only to persons who can trust, when there is a kind of well being triggered by the nostalgia for the past. As he was born under this sign, he is emotional, sentimental, restful, imaginative, sensitive, loyal, enduring, protective, vulnerable, generous, romantic, tender, poetic, maternal, dreamy, indolent, greedy and dedicated. He may also be fearful, unrealistic, evasive, passive, touchy, anxious, dependent, stubborn, lunatic, backward-looking, lazy, burdensome, impenetrable and a homebody. Love in the masculine mode: for him, in love, is tender, sensitive and quite loyal. He's influenced by a mother-figure and unconsciously looks for a partner who will offer as much attention and affection as him used to receive as a child. He's a homebody and a dreamer and a blossom in the family cocoon; create, dreaming of adventures and extraordinary trips… that most often take in his head. Tenderness is more important than sexuality, even though it is also an agent for security and for stability. Sheltered from tragedies and life complications because at the very moment when a difficult situation emerges, nips it in the bud either by ignoring it or by withdrawing into his shell quietly, until the storm subsides. His home is happy and rich, quiet and harmonious, throughout his life.

The Sun in Gemini and in House 12: His will and inner motivations.

His mobility is such that he's in every place where isn't expected. Spends lots of time asking questions and… answering them. His curiosity and quick-wittedness are insatiable. His mind is in constant turmoil, hopping from one topic to another, solving problems, accumulating anecdotes and knowledge within a short range of time. His mobility is mostly mental, it takes him afar and turns his daily life into a mosaic of intense and pleasant moments that aren't necessarily related to one another… As he was born under this sign, he's nervous, expressive, lively and adaptable, with a quick mind and a good sense of humour. Is bubbling, playful, sociable, clever, curious, whimsical, independent, intellectual, flexible, ingenious, fanciful, imaginative, charming, cerebral, and he is into everything. He may also be whimsical, unfocused, quirky, superficial, indiscreet, opportunist, unmindful, selfish, sarcastic or mercurial.

Cancer Rising: His personality profile as others may see him. When in control of his emotions, he's the most understanding, sensitive person he could hope to find--but, if NOT in control, is the most miserable. Since he tends to be ruled by emotions, his moody, changeable quality is apparent to everyone around him. His smile is radiant, but tears can easily be close behind. Another characteristic that gives him away is his talkativeness, with an emotional quality coming through loud and clear. He appear gentle and soft, and acts rather reserved with others until he know them well and feel it is safe to be open with them. Has a strong need for emotional security and a sense of belonging, and is deeply attached to the past: his heritage, roots, family, cherished friends, familiar places, etc. Making radical changes or moving away from what is known and safe can be very painful and difficult for him. He tends to hold on to people and memories, as well as possessions of personal or sentimental significance. Having a home, a safe haven, is very important to him.

Others see him as extremely caring, and HE IS caring and nurturing. Is a mother figure in person. If lacks children of his own, he will find surrogate children or pets on which to bestow his maternal instincts. Is strongly attached to family and family traditions. In his professional life, he could naturally gravitate toward the people helping people activities--doctor, nurse, counselor, social worker, etc.

Perhaps his greatest handicap in work is his inability to accept criticism. Others may hesitate to make suggestions to him, but he hates having his judgment challenged or his routine interrupted or intercepted. This comes from his strongly emotional relating of all things around him to the self. He maybe needs to learn to separate his self identity from those things he and others do or say, and learn not to take everything so personally. Others see him as a "softy". He's extremely sentimental and is likely to enjoy romantic reading, movies and "Soap Opera" types of drama. His emotions respond readily to outside stimulation, as well as to his instinctive and intuitive messages. He can be somewhat like a sponge, picking up on the feelings of those around him. Needs to always be alert to this faculty and not allow himself to respond to negative influences. For this reason needs to pick his associates carefully, surrounding himself with positive, self-actuated types. His magnetic personality will draw all types to him, many of whom will be those weaker ones who may rip-off his energy. His pride can become so easily hurt and the hurt so well hidden that those closest to he may not even know it. To others, he can appear especially touchy, bitter and resentful, retreating into his shell to keep everyone away. When this happens, he's likely to begin to overeat and overdrink--to overindulge himself in a manner which makes it more difficult to deal with his emotions, and to the point where he become physically sluggish. Maybe he tries to satisfy his oral need by putting snacks, candy, gum, cigarettes, food, and drinks in his mouth constantly. Also may tries to oversleep and to avoid exercise during these times. The important consideration here is, this is the way for him to grow. These periods are normal in the life process of the person that is /him/.

• Emotions: Feelings and Disposition to Romance

The Sun in Gemini and in House 12: In the love, this Sir, increase the number of his love affairs, probably because don't want to give up his freedom too quickly. He's cerebral to the extent that games of seduction remain… a real game, where feelings and carnal pleasures are merely present. Paradoxically, he's very charming and attractive but is more interested in the game itself. Indeed, thrills of verbal joust, fun, the pleasure to communicate over and over again, remain the centres of his concerns. He clearly prefers to be a bachelor because he appreciates its hustle and bustle: outings, exciting parties or a wide range of encounters etc. However, when he meets with his soul mate, turn into a pleasant and charming partner!

Moon in Gemini and at home 12

He doesn't seem to be intensely emotional or sentimental, and is often unaware of the deepest feelings and needs, both of himself and others. Tears and tantrums perplex him and make him feel very uncomfortable. He prefers to resolve differences by speaking rationally and reasonably, but tends to overlook or mock any attempt to probe the inner depths of himself and others. He will avoids demanding and heavy emotional commitments, and is cautious to establish personal obligations. Needs a lot of mental stimulation and feels close to those who share interests and thoughts. Talking is very important to him. A silent couple is not the kind of company for him.

His own feelings and emotions are like an enigma to him and it is often difficult for him to share with others what he is feeling.

Frequently, he retires from contact with the world and needs a peaceful and renewing environment to flourish and get out of himself.

He identifies with the oppressed, weak or victims in any situation and wants to help or care for them in some way.

Moon in harmonic aspect to Venus orb 3 ° 20 ' Feel that small acts of caring and consideration are essential to the happiness and success of a relationship and knows how to make others feel accepted, loved and cherished.

Moon in harmonic aspect to Saturn orb 4 ° 32 ' Has an internal posture and balance that allows it to act efficiently during traumas and emotional stress. He maintains perspective and objectivity around highly emotionally charged issues, many times, to the chagrin of others who would like him to react more intensely. He is a quiet and loyal support to his friends and loved ones.

Venus in Leo at home 2

Warm and generous in love, he doesn't tolerate pettiness or stinginess in his partner. Wants a heroic figure, a Prince or Princess to be idealized and adored, someone to admire with all your heart, someone to be proud of. He's of great loyalty and devotion once gives his heart to someone. He longs for love, appreciation and attention from others and hates being ignored. Is somewhat susceptible to flattery and loves to feel SPECIAL. Enjoys some drama and color in his love life and great gestures of love or an extravagant expression of generosity that impresses him.

For him, love and affection must be expressed tangibly; He loves to give and receive gifts. Value the luxuries, comfort and elegance very highly and appreciate the beautiful things. It can also be immoderate and extravagant. He should be careful not to be overly possessive of the people he loves and his belongings.

Majority someone with venus in leo loves to court and be courted, and they need to feel very special. They're warm, generous, and even grand. Though really quite loyal to their partners, they thriveon romantic attention.

Venus Conjunct Mars orb 4 ° 7 ' He's very, very loving, and it seems very difficult to be without a loving relationship for some time. When someone attracts him, he reacts actively and ardently, and sometimes with too much force. Working artistically or creatively could satisfy their enormous desire for love and beauty.

Venus conjunction Jupiter orb 5 ° 33 ' He's of great heart and generosity with both his money and his affections, and he is not happy if he has to be limited or restrained in any way. The stinginess or pettiness is alien to its nature, and it feels more comfortable in an elegant and beautiful environment. Asceticism isn't his thing. He enjoys sponsoring cultural activities. Has an optimistic and friendly attitude towards others and promotes in others the expression of the finest and friendliest side. He falls in love with successful people, noble and idealistic.

Venus in disharmonious aspect to Saturn orb 1 ° 12 ' He's serious and finds it difficult to enjoy carefree, open and playful with others. Rarely does anything for the pleasure of doing it, and can be very stingy and parsimonious. Perhaps due to past experiences in his life, he is very cautious when intimate with people and in sharing his feelings. Although he wants love and affection, intimacy is difficult for him.

if you want more information of dan's chart I recommend this

Dan's Houses

Phil Lester’s natal chart

#dan howell #daniel howell #natal chart #astrology #dan and phil #dnp by the stars #danisnotonfire #danielhowell #dnp #i love dan #phan #soft dan

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misterrnobody · 6 years

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[M4A] [DISCORD] M/M GAY ROMANCE M/M (optional plots included)

Hello! I’m currently looking for someone who’s interested in writing a gay romance with me (don’t care about your actual real-life gender). My preferences are drama, angst, slice of life and so on. For writing, at least 2 paragraphs, proper English, third person only and the quicker you reply, the better (though different timezones are totally okay and real life comes first!). All I ask if that you don’t just disappear on me. If there’s something you don’t like; just tell me. I’m an adult and I can handle it. Expect me to do the same. Character-wise, I’m looking for characters around the age of 25-38. I also require a real-life face claim. I’m into writing with pretty masculine characters, both in appearance and personality.

I include NSFW content, for this reason, I require roleplay partners to be 18 years old or older. As for sexual content; my characters do not take the “top” position.

Due to the fact, a lot of people have had me waste my time writing starters only not to reply; I ask that you write the first starter purely for me to see that you’re serious about writing.

I’ve been roleplaying for 8 years on various platforms and am rather proud to say that people always seem to be amazed by the stories I come up with!

I have a preference for OC’s, though I have 2 ships I’m willing to write out (possible plots below. If these don't interest you we can write something else);

Hephaestion x Alexander (which would be in an ancient setting unless you prefer a modern one).

Visual: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1qLzu4ondZU

and Colin Farrell x Jared Leto. (Seriously, you’d make me really happy if you’re into one of these ships : )

I also really don’t mind having a good conversation next to the roleplay itself!

We can either write on here or through discord (the latter being my preference). If you’re interested, please shoot me a chat or pm message.

Plot for Jared and Colin: They meet when they’re both trying to become actors as they play a small part in a movie. Colin used to be an alcoholic and is still drinking at that point as Jared goes along in it. While doing small acting jobs on the side the two of them spend their time partying, drinking and Jared even does drugs here and there. They stay at hotels and sleep with women at every chance. One night, they don’t manage each find a girl to sleep with and end up rather sexually frustrated in their hotel room as Jared suggests in a drunk mood that Colin could just fuck him instead which actually happens. After that, they’re basically too busy with each other to even notice others, though they never call it a relationship or tell each other they love each other even though they do. Eventually, Colin decides he wants to better his life and stops drinking which is rather hard with Jared still constantly drinking. He eventually manages to stay clear for 3 months when Jared slips alcohol into his drink in a drunk mood which causes him to fall back into his addiction. He gets so awfully pissed with Jared he tells him he never wants to see him again and with that, he takes his leave. Years later, Jared finds himself in a deep depression and in a wheelchair due to an accident that’s unknown to the public. (In this time period, you could decide yourself what life events shaped Colin). The idea is that there are options for him to walk again, but he just can’t be bothered to pursue them despite the fact it might be too late eventually if he waits. One of his actor friends throws a massive birthday party and the theme is to dress up as a character you played or are to play as Jared dresses up as Rayon (the transgender woman from Dallas buyers club). That movie is on the schedule for “when he walks again”. Basically, Colin thinks he sees a lady sitting all bored by himself and when Jared seems rather confused that Colin is even talking to him he realizes that the “lady” is Jared and assumes that the wheelchair is part of the character. They engage in a somewhat awkward conversation and Colin gets a little annoyed with Jared’s I don’t care attitude as when the man asks him to get him a drink, he gets pissed. Jared worded it weirdly meaning a glass of water and Colin doesn’t know he can’t walk himself so he literally starts about “how the hell can you ask a former alcoholic to get you a drink” and tells him to walk himself putting him on his feet only for Jared to fall down because well, he can’t actually walk. That lands them in Colin’s hotel room who eventually manages him to get the surgery needed and helps him through the process which causes them to bond and slowly fall in love again. That’s basically the main line of events I have up until now. Feel free to change anything haha.

Plot for Alexander and Hephaestion: Basically, Alexander is around 22, the king of Macedon and a little bit of an ignorant asshole feeling as if he's entitled to everything as he's royal. He never questioned everything his father told him. He doesn't have to be kind. He doesn't have to consider peoples feelings for he is a king and for example: slaves are to be obedient. So imagine that a grand party is thrown as there's a slavery auction. Hephaestion, in this story a slave, is part of what is offered and seeing Alexander is the king he is entitled to look through the slaves first and claim those he wants to work at his palace. Now all slaves are obedient until he stands in front of Hephaestion as when he grabs his arm to check for muscle (as you see in the movies ;p) the man simply janks his arm free and dares to spit in the king's face. Instead of hanging him Alexander punishes Hephaestion by making him his personal slave. Actually getting to know him Alexander starts to question if he's wrong to see slaves as a mere object for Hephaestion has personality and might even be more intelligent than some of the men in his personal counsel. He becomes sure of it when Hephaestion challenges him to a fist fight when soldiers are training and when he wins; it proves to him that slaves aren't all that different. Basically, we would turn it into a romance. It would include a whole lot of character development, especially for Alexander. He could change rules of slavery and allow Hephaestion to choose his own career path as he eventually does become a commander and so on? Now men being with men was actually normal back in the day where they are from, but for a king to be with a slave would cause some backlash and so on. We could add things or if there’s something you don’t like leave things out and kinda see where it goes after that slave auction.

OC Plot 1: A has been living on the streets for several years. His father made him leave home after seeing him kiss another guy. A started out with the money he saved and ended up in drugs business. A drug deal went wrong, he leaves the city and does not deal drugs again because the chance of running into the people he got in trouble with is too big. Once again going against everything he stands for, he finds himself standing at the street corner one night ready to sell himself to the first person that shows interested. That is B comes in, a rich man who takes a liking to men but can’t openly sleep around because gay rumors could be bad for business. He takes interest in A and takes him home, offering him a to stay with him in his condo, as well as good pay, if he’s available for sex at all times and A agrees, now having a roof above his head and not having to eat from trash cans.

The idea is that the more time they spend together, the closer they get. B, who’s rather selfish, starts to care about A more than he likes. He sees he’s lonely at home; he gets him a dog. He doesn’t have anything to do; he decides to put him in college. What’s interesting is that their lines are already blurred from the beginning, so what’s just kindness? What's part of the arrangement? What’s a hint at love? : )

OC Plot 2: Characters A and B used to be best friends throughout their entire childhood and high school career. In their senior year, people really start to comment on how close they are and the rumor begins that they are a gay couple. B really dislikes this because he is in love with his best friend and has not come to terms with it yet, to the point where he ends their friendship. A, who is a closeted gay man in love with his best friend is not only hurt by that decision, but also feels like B never truly accepted him. While B stays popular, A becomes kind of a loner and all is good until a picture of A kissing a guy goes around the school. B doesn’t really do anything about the bullying and eventually, A just disappears and there’s no track of him.

Years later, B moves to LA/NY due to a new job. At this point, he’s come to tears with his sexuality. One night when he’s at the station, he finds a familiar face putting down a sleeping bag and approaches A asking what he’s doing on the streets. A is rather rude and refuses help as he’s far from the happy cheery person he used to be. B soon finds out that A pays security a small amount of money to sleep there every night and starts with giving leaving him food at the place he knows he will sleep, though A doesn’t accept anything else. That is until one night when B walks home, he sees A get beaten up and after coming in between he takes the man home despite his protests. A doesn’t tell him much, though it becomes clear that the picture in high school caused his father to find out about his sexuality resulting in him being kicked out of the house. Feeling somewhat responsible for that event, B offers A to stay with him until he’s financially stable enough to provide for himself and A accepts after a lot of ensuring though it proves to be rather hard as A never graduated high school. B covers the costs to get him a proper education as A starts to open up more as they grow closer again as they eventually fall in love again.

OC plot 3: A and B have been chatting and calling for 2 years, though A has never wished to video chat, saying he’s shy and despite disliking not being able to see it, B accepts it. They’ve never declared what they have a long distance relationship, but they’re well on their way. B is an (interesting sports) player and thinks A is involved in the same sport. He’s doing well and playing an important game 6 months from now and has invited A to come to support and see him in real life for the first time. Though before it gets to that, B saves up enough to go and meet A when A confesses that.. not everything he said was true as he is not the guy in the picture. B doesn’t give him much time to explain and gets angry, then blocks him on all social media. 6 months later, after the important game, B finds a bag with the various things he’s sent A over time in the locker room and when he asks who left it and one of his teammates mentions a guy in a wheelchair. Missing the interaction with A, B tries to find him and eventually does and when A gets frantically upset and starts apologizing he decides to finally listen to him and finds out that A did play the (sport of choice), but got in a car accident right before they started chatting and ended up in a wheelchair. Being in a bad shape, he used a picture of someone who looked like him and assuming he’d play his sport again after getting therapy for his legs, he decided to not mention any of that at all only to find out that his family could not afford to put him through the therapy needed. B needs some time to take it in and forgives him, then proceeds to try and help him himself, asking his parents to pay for A’s therapy with the promise he will pay them back after he finishes college. Basically, A starts living with B in his apartment close to campus and they develop love based on truth this time.

(Swimming would be cute, as B could swim with A even if his legs don’t work).

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