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existentialmagazine · 1 year

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Existential Magazine’s February Music Roundup

With the month coming to a close, we’re sharing just a handful of our favourite new releases we’ve discovered this February! Sit back, put on our New Music Friday playlist and spend a few minutes enjoying fresh new tunes hand-picked by us.

Esthy - how dare you come back

The LA based artist, singer-songwriter, music producer, and mixing engineer Esthy has it all under her belt, and her newest single ‘how dare you come back’ starts off our Roundup for the month with a sound you can’t help but just adore. Wielding a lo-fi edge amidst dreamy pop and R&B, ‘how dare you come back’ both hurts and heals in its striking piano notes and whirling synth that together builds up a hazy atmosphere sure to immediately pull on your heart-strings. Its minimal tones soar through a vast sound, creating the sense of a wide-open space reverberating every echo and sound across every wall with Esthy centre stage bearing her heart on her sleeve. Picking up with a simple but catchy beat for the chorus, the soundscape is one with a blatantly emotionally paired back focus, interweaving ear-worm lyrical hooks that you can’t help but sing along to before listening deeper to the poignant lines that resonate with a clear authentic edge. Written about an ex trying to get back in contact after finally beginning to move on, ‘how dare you come back’ is filled to the brim with personal lyricism that comforts the wounds and unsaid questions of an aching heart. With a chorus unafraid to be real, lines like ‘how dare you come back when I’m all healed up, fixed all your problems while you messed me up’ don’t hesitate in their bluntness, seeking answers as well as closure as Esthy promotes letting go of those who should remain in the past.

Salads - butterfly sans

Bending genres and falling somewhere between pop, punk, rap and alternative in genre, Salads prides himself on being a completely fluid artist constantly experimenting in sound and paving his own way with his new single ‘butterfly sans’ no exception to that. From the quick-strummed electric guitar to the catchy electronic beats, ‘butterfly sans’ feels a little rooted in emo-rap whilst not limiting itself to any one sound, earning its listeners ears through every emphatic burst of sounds and Salads’ vocal performance that’s doused in intentional effects. With such an easy-going, ear-worm of a sound, Salads’ consistently manages to write with incredibly resonant messages that are kept at arms reach, appealing to both an audience looking for a quick-thrill of a track or those who will peel back the layers and listen deeper. Alike most of Salads music, ‘butterfly sans’ also covers some more serious hard-hitting topics like his own childhood traumas, with past singles touching upon love, loss, addiction, and recovery. Lines like ‘sixteen trying to pop pills on the couch’ are unavoidably heavy and in your face right from the start but Salads doesn’t shy away from sharing these parts of his reality, escaping some of his worst days and cathartically using his music to not only work through what he’s been through but also relate to and support his audience in their own lows.

SINCERELY HIM - WASTING MY TIME

The up-coming artist Sincerely Him may only just have delved into the music industry this year, but his catalogue of singles and a debut album ‘DEAR,’ already prove why he’s a name to keep on the look out for - and his newest single ‘WASTING MY TIME’ is no exception to that mass of talent. Channeling alternative and emo stylings, ‘WASTING MY TIME’ soars in with a quickly plucked bubbly electric guitar riff and speeding beats that together raise heart rates and build adrenaline for an experience you won’t want to stop listening to. Fading into the verse with just a deep bass that moodily lingers, Sincerely Him strips back the sugary atmosphere for one that’s more sincere and personal, pushing his vocal performance and songwriting to the core of everything. Proudly wielding a short burst of addictive beats and chant-along lyricism for another hit of a chorus, ‘WASTING MY TIME’ may only be just over a minute in length but it certainly doesn’t waste a moment of it in capturing your attention and urging for just one more listen. Utilising heavy vocal effects throughout, there’s an edge of Sincerely Him attempting to smother the more serious narrative at hand with an undeniable catchiness, making it more digestible for a casual listen whilst still bearing his heart on his sleeve if you listen deeper. With such a thrilling sound, it’s all the more poignant that Sincerely Him has paired a message of battling mental health and addiction, with deeply resonant lines like ‘I don’t wanna die, thought it would be different this time’ that you can’t help but feel caught off guard by. If you’re searching for an artist with charisma, a sound that’s easy to love and a knack for writing songs you just can’t forget, then look no further than Sincerely Him.

Peacock Method - Love Is Blue

The Manchester based quartet Peacock Method formed during the UK's COVID-19 lockdown, finding their own spark amidst the darkness with a bright sound that infuses everything from indie to disco to synth pop. Their newest dreamy offering ‘Love Is Blue’ captures a sense of their warm, nostalgically brewing tones in yet another masterpiece of a single, lead in with such a gentle poignancy that you’ll find yourself deeply infused within the power of its cathartically stirring sound. Reverberated electric guitar plucks surround the sound with an ease, accompanied by further bright guitar strums and delicately thudding beats that build an atmosphere of utter haze you can’t help but want to bundle up and rest within for the verses melancholic performance. Their vocalist’s deep, rich tone adds a sulkiness atop it, carrying such a profound depth in every word sung with an agile glide between range. Picked up for a soaring chorus, ‘Love Is Blue’ builds into an emotionally heightened experience you cannot avoid getting lost in, rising in volume as well as strength. Guitar progressively builds in strums and searing riffs, with the drums lifting to join in an increased intensity. The track further evolves as you progress, offering quite the sonically resonant instrumental padding to interweave within a lyrical journey began as poetry and turned into a wonderfully romantic love song with plentiful nuance and thought-provoking writing: ‘down we go to indigo, sapphire eyes.’ Every moment of ‘Love Is Blue’ is dreamy, and you’ll find yourself not wanting to wake up when its three minute journey concludes.

Wolfschmidt - Clever

Originating from Ringön, Sweden, the trio Wolfschmidt consists of three self-producing musicians whom together have moulded their talents into one collective pool of deep musical discovery and genre-fusion, shining through beautifully within their newest single ‘Clever.’ Brisk electric guitar strums and plucks soothingly pave the way into ‘Clever’, opening up within a minimal palette of instruments that allows for their haunting female vocalist to mesmerisingly takes the reins of the release, serenading you with a mellowness that deeply contrasts its darker lyrical message. Softly matched by the padding of a calm beat that later slots itself into the evolving soundscape, the building eclectic atmosphere allows for the vocals to soar through the soundscape with a familiarity and warmth you can’t help but feel comforted by, matched with a constant ebbing and flowing of shoegaze guitars and lofi delay staple to the band’s sound. Lyrically depicting a two-faceted relationship with oneself where they’re constantly outsmarted by their murderous ego, ‘Clever’ is profoundly unique in the tale it takes you through, reminiscent of dark fairytales and perhaps also nudging towards struggles with mental illness: ‘we both know exactly when and how it ends.’ Running at nearing four minutes in length, Wolfschmidt intertwine their storytelling with a sonic progression that remains constantly interesting and ever-changing, closing out with a static darkness and gritty instrumentals that alludes to the more morbid elements of their lyricism and truly solidifying why their mix of shoegaze, dreampop, and contemporary psychedelic rock is something to look out for.

Dallas & The Wvlf - What A Shame

Denver based alternative-rock artist Dallas & The Wvlf may have only just began releasing music in December, but his debut single amassed quite the success last year that’s only sure to continue onwards for his newly released, hard-hitting offering ‘What A Shame.’ Lead in by quite the inspirational spoken message that encourages you to ‘take a deep breath and jump’, there’s a quite profound establishment of heaviness from the get-go with Dallas & The Wvlf making it clear their message and lyricism will hold a depth you’ll really want to listen along for and feel every single word. Strikingly deep electric guitar twangs ring out into the soundscape accompanied by an emo-esque steady beat that’s all tied together by gravelly, hoarse vocals, carrying a lingering emotion within the human touch of strain and evident painful reflection on their personally written narrative. A thumping chorus picks up the pacing, pounding the listener with thundering drums and a built-up wall of sound that cathartically releases all the built up angst of the verses frustrations. Lyrically exploring how sometimes there is no one else to blame but yourself, Dallas & The Wvlf use ‘What A Shame’ to touch upon the ways we as humans can get wrapped up in an endless spiral of making mistakes, particularly referencing addiction. Lines like the choruses ‘I’m the only one that’s left to blame’ are sure to sting deep, but with self-reflection and hope, ‘What A Shame’ may just be the song you need to turn things around.

ALEJ - King Of Brooklyn

Singer-songwriter ALEJ takes inspiration from the greats like Taylor Swift and Troye Sivan, finding his footing in a bright pop sound that’s euphorically delivered within his newest single ‘King Of Brooklyn.’ With a soundscape incorporating vibrant beats and whirling sound effects, ‘King Of Brooklyn’ captures a bustling verse with an easy-going sway, minimal but speeding through at a bubbly high. As the chorus picks up with soaring backing vocals from what feels like a choir of voices and added eccentrically clapped beat you can’t help but dance along to, ‘King Of Brooklyn’ thrives within its over-the-top pop delivery that when brought together in the mix creates a highly theatrical performance to be loved. ALEJ’s blissfully clean vocals top it all off, cascading between ranges but most impressively ascending to gorgeous higher tones, creating a sound that’s nothing short of angelic. Written about a dream ALEJ had where his friends and his crush took a trip to Brooklyn, the song embodies a gorgeously hyper-unrealistic approach both in sound and lyricism that captures a sense of the thrilling, nonsensical journey of a dream, topped off by his crush asking who he likes and being cut off by awaking from it all. Relatable lines like ‘I didn’t want to risk anything we had’ show off the giddy butterflies of a near-confession, so don’t hesitate in getting your own fix of the rush in listening to ‘King Of Brooklyn’.

Collect Call - Heartbreaker

Joseph Thorpe, or otherwise known as Collect Call, found himself soaring in his dream-pop musical project that seeks those who are like-minded in sadness, buried inside a sound that’s consistently whimsical, radiating through his newest piece ‘Heartbreaker.’ Softly swaying in a soundscape that captures textural synthesisers and classical guitars, ‘Heartbreaker’ finds itself amidst the more raw and tender instrumentals, pulsating with bright touches that whilst the song feels gentle and intimate you’re still constantly uplifted. The dreaminess of ‘Heartbreaker’ feels almost unnatural, tinged in a spoken melancholia that the soundscape seemingly evades, floating in its lo-fi electronic beats and sincere, rich high-toned vocals that all together wrap you amidst a blanket of familiarity and safety while Collect Call aches below it. With a narrative that speaks of a lover pulling the rug from under your feet and attempting to navigate the realities of online dating, ‘Heartbreaker’ is filled with relatability in unrequited love, settling for someone that isn’t right and getting your heart stomped on time and time again. The chorus hook touches on this theme best, woefully admitting ‘you’re a heartbreaker, and I guess I’ll do it again’ alluding to modern dating and the looping dating scene jumping from one heartbreak to the next. Wrapping up more poignant lyricism, lines like ‘you told me that you loved me again and again and again’ implicates the multiple lovers, time after time consistently ending in a broken heart and a repeat of it all, just like the experience of looping this track on repeat for days to come.

Max Edwards - I Love You

Singer-songwriter Max Edwards grew up in a Canadian mountainous town, taking on an authenticity and emotional touch from his nature-filled upbringings to his musical endeavours, and his newest pop ballad ‘I Love You’ is all that and more. Gorgeously leading with deep piano notes that ring out into the vast and empty soundscape, ‘I Love You’ intertwines a classical edge with hazy synths for a verse you can’t help but feel emotionally lost within. Building for a chorus that incorporates striking beats and powerfully infused piano notes, ‘I Love You’ wields both sides of a double-edged experience, from the slow moving verses to the choruses profoundly impactful outburst of all the thoughts and feelings bottled up. As vocal effects add a pop-edge to Max’s devoutly personal delivery of an autobiographical narrative, ‘I Love You’ manages to intertwine elements you can’t help but sing along to whilst ensuring you don’t lose track of the more meaningful storytelling beneath it. Finding himself lost amidst the city lights and bustling streets, Max Edwards penned ‘I Love You’ when he struggled making new friends living in the city for the first time, reliant on his girlfriend that he lived with who truly became his best friend and confidant through it all. Lines like ‘this city never felt so small, and all it’s done is break my heart’ carry the weight of Max’s loneliness, and yet ‘I Love You’ will leave you feeling on top of the world and ready to conquer it all.

Jay Spicer - Lost

Twenty year old Jay Spicer started playing guitar when he was 5 years old, developing his acoustic rock sound later in life and carrying it through into his latest uplifting single ‘Lost’ that’s sure to motivate you at your lowest moments. Lead in by an electric guitar strumming delicately, ‘Lost’ ensures a cathartic blend of both more sombre intimacy and rocky grit, rolling through with a thudding beat you’ll tap along to with ease. Brought into a chorus that flourishes with the vibrancy of a colourful auditory palette that carries gripping guitar, more frequent drums, clapped beats and of course Jay’s vocals that add a tinge of melancholia atop it all. Lyrically bearing a double-edged sword, ‘Lost’ both finds itself caught up in woes and overthinking whilst desperately clinging to the hope of enjoying moments and being more present, promoting a message of wading through the darkness to appreciate what’s going on around you: ‘If I could stop and look to see actually it might be me who needs to sit and look, it just might be good.’ In a fast-paced world where it can be hard to detach from the online world or swirling mental health struggles, Jay finds himself asking ‘why can’t I stay in the now for a while?’, relating to a whole generation that seek to find pleasure in the day-to-day once again too. If you’re looking to relate and feel inspired to appreciate the little things, look no further than ‘Lost.’

Skyler Cocco - Passenger Side

Closing out our Roundup for the month is the New York born indie-pop singer, songwriter and producer Skyler Cocco, a clear to be star in the making and her newest single ‘Passenger Side’ only further confirms she’s not one to let pass you by. Setting off with electronic beats and Skyler’s gorgeous, clean vocal performance, ‘Passenger Side’ right away brings about a sense of cloudy nostalgia and the air of a colourful summer night spent blurrily living life to the fullest. Picking up for a truly euphoric chorus, shimmering sounds and whirring synth build up an atmosphere of daze you can’t help but get lost in alongside some backing vocals that make Skyler’s ear-worm lyricism all the more memorable. Encompassing storytelling that’s filled with playful fun and a passion-filled rising tension, ‘Passenger Side’ smothers its steamy but subtle lyricism throughout in lines like ‘night sky in the background… we can let the lighting out’ that upon any casual listen can be taken as a romantic night-drive, but easily alludes to more if you’re looking to hear it. Wrapping up the thrills of a short-term fling into an equally addictive three and a half minute journey, Skyler’s freeing lyricism may inspire you to live more in the moment and a little more carefree, and really what else could you want from a catchy pop song if not a takeaway of excitement and a gratitude for life?

Give a listen to these songs and more in our New Music Friday playlist this week, or see our Roundup Recap playlist for every song previously featured in one of our monthly roundups that you might have missed!

Written by: Tatiana Whybrow

// This coverage was created via Musosoup, #SustainableCurator.

#music #musicroundup #roundup

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altairattorney · 2 years

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Wolf is (not) the land of Ashina

Dear Sekiros, my insomnia has been resurrected and made exponentially worse by hormonal problems in the past few months. As I toss and turn, trying to fall asleep despite my body having turned into an oven, my nocturnal brain gets very active. So I decided to get back up and very quickly type yet another piece of meta about our favorite piece of Fromsoft pain, Sekiro.

For habitual and new readers alike, here are the essentials we have discussed many times before:

One of the central themes of Sekiro’s plot is how agency changes your fate and your future.

The emotional core of the story is the Kuro/Wolf/Owl dynamic, which metaphysically links care to salvation and abuse to perdition. This message is so important it is depicted on Wolf’s very face, with his right side hair white from the Heritage and his left eye bearing Owl’s scar.

The narrative of Sekiro is a game of mirrors, whose meanings are deduced by observing similarities and differences between the various players.

With that out of the way: for some unearthly reason that must be tied to insomnia, my brain suddenly realized that the relationship Wolf has to Kuro and Owl has its very own parallel in the most unexpected of characters: the land of Ashina itself, with Genichiro and Isshin at the opposite ends of it.

Let's try and understand what I mean a little deeper. While Ashina is, in the more literal sense, a place with its people and its traditions, the game often offers us a more complex depiction of it. From certain points of view, Ashina is represented as an entity. It is spoken of with obsessive reverence by Genichiro, and described by Isshin as alive yet terminally ill, edging ever closer to its inevitable fate.

The idea of Ashina being something mortal is, in itself, already enough to personify it. But the concept grows even stronger if you consider how many times, throughout all of Sekiro, immortality is depicted as non-human - divine in origin, and by design incompatible with mortal life.

You can say just about anything when it comes to Sekiro, except that it shows confusion in its core narrative concepts. The writing team working on this game knew exactly what they were doing. So, what is Ashina? Isshin tells us: it is the homeland to a fierce and proud people, willing to defend their long-standing local traditions at any cost. While Ashina may not die as a land, it can as a collective identity. And the writers, without room for any other interpretation, rooted it firmly in the realm of Sekiro’s mortal characters.

Now, Ashina in this point of view bears striking similarities to our protagonist and his circumstances. If we consider Isshin’s opinion as being closer to reality and Genichiro’s fight being delusional, we can draw some parallels.

By the time the game begins, Wolf and Ashina are both already dead.

Their existences are being prolonged by unnatural means external to themselves.

Another character in the game sees them as a person/entity, chose to keep them alive with desperate measures and is looking for a better solution: Kuro for Wolf, Genichiro for Ashina.

A different character sees them as a thing that has outlived its function or natural lifespan: Owl for Wolf, Isshin for Ashina.

There truly is a lot of nuance in these similarities, even if these characters are all radically different from each other. None of the elements I outlined are exactly the same, and yet - the similarities ripple throughout these parallel narratives, leaving their echoes of each other.

The reasons why are sometimes different, but the outcomes are very much the same. The glorious Ashina of Isshin’s youth is dead to him today, as much as Wolf is dead to Owl if he forsakes his own old function as a tool.

On the other hand, Genichiro and Kuro are very similarly driven to desperation by the pressure a bloodline they did not choose. And like Genichiro would do anything to save Ashina, the only purpose he has left, Kuro would do anything to save Wolf, the only family he has left. No matter the ending, Kuro always expects to willingly give up his life for Wolf; no matter the ending, Genichiro always does for Ashina.

Yet, even when we look at the Wolf-Ashina comparison in the most superficial way, we cannot help noticing the most glaring difference between the two lies in the outcome of their stories. Wolf has a chance to be saved, Ashina does not.

Isshin, aware that the Ashina of the past cannot return or be preserved, will use his newfound strength in resurrection to fullfill his personal wish and die as a warrior, in a glorious fight. Why was the story written this way, then? What sets Wolf and Ashina apart?

The answer is a shocker which nobody could ever see coming:

A G E N C Y

This is something I have talked about before, especially in my post Agency and choice in Sekiro. Still, in case you aren’t familiar, here is what I mean: the narrative is hellbent on telling you that the more you can choose and act for yourself, the better your destiny will be.

Owl may have forgotten, but we haven’t: Wolf is a person. As such, he can react to the way he is treated by others in different ways. From Kuro he learns what it means to be valued, protected and loved; he compares it to the way his own father treated him and sees, at last, an opportunity to do more than mindlessly obey. Wolf can feel, can learn, and ultimately can choose.

On the other hand, despite the ways its people may feel about it, Ashina is not a person. Its very nature takes away all the chances Wolf has to choose for himself. This is the deep tragedy Ashina and Genichiro share: the impossibility to change, caused by lack of human connection.

In Sekiro, agency is salvation. It is born of the bonds between people, and the strength their teaching give us. No matter who we are and where we come from, all of us deserve and can find a way to choose our own fate.

By design, Ashina has no way to learn agency. Wolf does.

That difference is where all of our hope lies.

#sekiro #sekiro meta #wolf sekiro #genichiro ashina #isshin ashina #kuro the divine heir #owl sekiro

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echo-of-sounds · 3 years

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you don’t make it to the bedroom

Small smut drabbles of having a quickie with Aizawa and Toshi.

Warnings: light choking

Aizawa Shouta

Pinning you to the door, shoving lips firmly into yours, and grinding his erection against your waist, Shouta blindly fumbled with keys in the lock. After a click, he knocked it open and muscled you inside, not breaking the kiss as he manhandled you, sandwiching you between him and the other side of the door. His erection, though held down by pants and boxer briefs, pressed plenty hard.

“Sho- Fuck,” you moaned, gripping his hair when teeth buried into your neck. A leg pushed forward. Your hips moved on their own, riding his thigh hastily.

Before you could find much excitement, he spun you around, chest to door, shoving a hand into the front of your pants and roughing two fingers inside. “God, you’re so fucking wet.” His guttural voice only stirred you more. It rocketed heat, making you hump backward. That made the two fingers fold fiercely.

Not wanting to dally, you unbuttoned your pants. He tugged them and your underwear down. One hand seized your hair. The other guided him inside, thick, ready, not wasting a single second to fuck you, jostling you against the door each thrust. He ordered, grumbling sturdily, “Push your hips out.”

You listened and rose to your tiptoes. The angle slipped him deeper, better, to pound and rub heavily along your front wall. Fingers held fast in your hair. They kept your cheek to the cold door and your spine curved.

“Fuck- Fuck me- harder.” The next thrust sunk excessively heavy, jerking you from the soles of your feet. Your legs bounced with his hips. Clothing clinked. You moaned into the wood. Nails raked it. The stupid hinges squeaked. If someone walked by, they’d get quite the assembly of sounds.

Shouta’s grunts increased, handsome, intense, rumbling his body. Your hair was yanked backward. His grip released. His arm snaked around your shoulders, clinging you to his chest. The hold resumed on your neck this time. Teeth, with no shame, mercilessly clamped over your neck and jaw. You gasped and moaned as you begged for more.

Pleasure mounted. Fingers tightened. He swore repeatedly, hurting your neck and back, but it felt too enjoyable to say stop. Between each word, his hips snapped forward, “You’re cumming already?”

“I want to,” you whimpered.

“Then cum,” he growled.

And a snag on your ear, a finger on your clit, and a solid plunge that trembled your legs, let you do just that. You clenched and clawed and moaned loudly, not caring about others hearing. Muscles clamped, trying straightening out.

But Sho’s encirclement kept you to how he wanted. His thrusting didn’t slow. Groans grew apart, clumsy, mirroring his thrusts. You clutched at his pants, preventing him from pulling out. “Fuck it. Just cum in me.”

The lurching stopped with a last push. His fingers, teeth, and weight turned solid, all rooting into you, waiting until he fully finished and calmed. While he did, you sighed, a little short of breath, “That was a pleasant end to our date.”

He hummed and kissed the fresh wound he created. “Better than most.”

Yagi Toshinori

“Was the wait long?”

“It wasn’t too bad.” Toshinori placed the bag of sandwiches on the countertop.

You hopped up to sit on the counter. “Thank you for stopping. I really didn’t feel like cooking.”

“Not a problem, sweetheart.” Smiling wide, he slipped between your legs, settling his large palms on your thighs. Lips covered yours for a peck, but it evolved into a kiss, tender and sincere. Fingers drifted under your nightgown to slide it higher. They inched until they found your panties. He spoke into your mouth, “You wore these today?”

“Yes,” you softly laughed, knowing just how much he enjoyed the cute, pink polka dots.

“They’re perfect,” he mumbled. His sighs lowered as his thumb rubbed along you, feeling you through the cottony material. Your lips parted for his tongue. It edged in oh-so-slowly. You sped up the process, washing yours over his instead. A light moan escaped from the nudging on your clit. It swiftly moved on, replaced by his painfully obvious and teenager-like erection.

“Toshi,” you sang, returning the fondling. His sounds told you what he wanted, so you unzipped his pants and pulled him out of his boxers. Gorgeous groans fluttered against your lips. They always managed to flicker an appetite. And they animated your body, spreading your thighs for your brain.

Unlike the usual preparation, Toshi drew the panties to the side and worked himself in, letting you stretch around him instead. Skin touched. Moans mixed. Yours was partly a whimper at the strain.

He cupped your face, gently cooing compliments. You smiled at his attempted distraction. “I think it’s my panties you’re more interested in right now.”

“Oh, hush now.” You both laughed, kissing, pawing at each other. Your legs wrapped around his hips and your arms hugged his waist to keep him close.

Then the thrusting started: smoothly out and dearly, deeply in: every long-thin-graceful inch. His pace hung steady. But you wanted more, quickly. You grabbed his belt with a hearty moan to get it.

Toshi picked up his speed, bouncing your breasts and body. The simple motions, similar to his groans, always fed your hunger. Wet lips and his warm tongue worked with yours. A single, tactful finger stroked your clit, beginning slow, waking faster with his thrusts.

He messily groaned your name. It roused a moan in you, asking for haste. As he stood upright and supported your thighs, you leaned back, touching yourself while he complied. His head briefly left you, brushed your front wall, then kissed your core.

“Fuck, Toshi, just like that.” Blue glued to your eyes, watching, waiting. Rushing your circling fingers, you gasped and nodded, telling him you were there. It took a few more thrusts to send you over, rolling your hips, tightening your muscles, and moaning his name.

Amidst your orgasm, he sputtered something before slipping out in the nick of time to release onto your panties and tummy. White collected over the polka dots.

After catching his breath, he stared at the mess and sighed, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

“It won’t stain if I rinse them,” you giggled. “Besides, I think you’d be more disappointed than I would be if they got stained.”

He looked away, red coating his cheeks, stuttering some more.

#aizawa shouta #aizawa x reader #all might #all might x reader #yagi toshinori #toshinori x reader #aizawa smut #all might smut #bnha #bnha x reader #bnha smut #tw choking

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huenjin · 4 years

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envious.

pairing — han jisung x reader

word count — 4.4k words

ratings — 18+

genre — smut, includes jealous sex, big cock!jisung, daddy kink, possession kink, slight female masturbation, deepthroating, blowjob, gagging, degradation, spanking, marking, cunnilingus, bulge kink, choking, unprotected sex, creampie.

note — i just put all my fantasies down here, just because it’s my first smut for my bias? i guess, shit.

The keys clink loudly against the metal holder and you narrow your eyes at your fiancé. He shoves his hands into his glossy leather pockets of his pants as he walks past you, eyes avoiding yours at all cost until you yell, “Is something wrong?”

He raises an eyebrow, eyes glaring at your figure before he scoffs, “Of course not.” He walks towards the refrigerator to pull out a bottle of ice cold water and uncapping it, he chugs down the liquid as it is, the cold water hitting his throat with a sharp sting thanks to the temperature difference. Still painfully obvious that he is clearly ignoring you, he throws the empty plastic bottle into the trash can and walks towards the room the two of you shared. You follow your fiancé, hot on his heels as you smirk.

You, obviously, know what is bothering him.

He pulls open the door harshly, the wooden door hitting against the adjacent wall in such a loud sound that it resonates through your whole house and you frown.

“Don’t take out your anger on the door, Jisung.”

“Then who else do I take it all out on, princess?” He turns. Jisung tightens his fist in the thought of what had just happened back in the restaurant, veins popping clearly and you mercilessly rake your eyes over them. He takes a steps closer to you, pulling out his right hand from his pocket. Placing it against the wall that he has you now pressed against, he brings his face so close to you that you can see the shine in his eyes and the light flicker of a smirk on his lips. He whispers against your lips, “Should I take it all out on you, huh?”

“What’s your problem?” You move your face forward, nose brushing against his and glaring at Jisung back.

“What you did and how you talked to the waiter,” he backs himself up, teeth clenching and lips pressed against each other. “And the looks you kept giving me when the waiter wouldn’t fucking stop complimenting you. You exactly know what you fucking did, don’t you?”

You chuckle, taunting Jisung a bit more. You place your hand on his broad chest and pushing him back, you strut your way towards the bed to sit cross legged before the hotheaded man tonight.

“Why? Did it bother you?”

Jisung chuckles, walking towards you, “You wanted this to happen, didn’t you?” His right eyebrow shoots up as he looks at you questioningly. “You were asking for this, weren’t you? Such a naughty fucking girl.” He pushes his hand through his hair and his voice drops octaves lower — something Jisung usually does when he gets into the mood, something you sinfully loved. “You made me so jealous. So mad.” He undoes the first two buttons of his shirt, shirt pulling apart and exposing his soft skin to you. He bends forward and enunciating every word clearly, he says, “You fucking love reminding me how much I want you every single minute. All to myself.”

You gulp in anticipation and find yourself already wet thanks to his voice, panties sticking to your core as you move back slightly. Jisung questions, eyes unwavering from yours, “Who’s my baby girl?”

You nod and Jisung hisses, “Words, princess.”

“I am. I’m your baby girl.”

“That’s my good girl.” He stands, smirking so wide that you know he’s prepared hard and long for tonight. You squeeze your thighs at the thought. “But you’ve been a little naughty tonight and Daddy’s here to remind you who you belong to tonight.”

Your fiancé pushes you back slightly against the soft mattress of the bed as he hovers over you, his hand going towards your throat and wrapping around it perfectly, fingers squeezing into the flesh and your lips part. Your hand moves down as you try slowly moving your fingers against your covered core, trying to provide some relief through some friction.

“Aren’t you enjoying this a bit too much, princess?” Jisung licks his lower lips as his eyes trail down your body, stopping only at the sight of you rubbing yourself. “My fingers wrapped around your fragile throat and you pushed against the bed.” You bite your lips and Jisung quickly holds your face harshly with his other hand, angling your face to face him directly. “Look how badly you want me, how badly you want me to fuck you into this bed until all you can think and scream is no other man but me.”

“This is what you wanted, right?” His laughter is so low and evil and you run yourself even further under Jisung’s scrutiny, the slight asphyxiation of his fingers digging into your neck, almost tightening the knot harder. “You got it, baby girl.” He soothingly rubs your neck, letting go of it for a minute before holding it harsher. You gasp loudly, your fingers moving as if it had a mind of its own.

“I’m going to fucking rail you tonight.”

In a flash of a second, Jisung’s mouth is on yours, his thick fingers moving from your neck to your jaw, gripping at it to move your face the way he wants to. He lips latches onto yours hard as he sucks and kisses till he slips his tongue, lapping at your cavity, gliding against your tongue, leaving you moaning and gripping onto him.

“D-Daddy,” you groan into his mouth, hand gripping a fistful of his white shirt, pulling him closer to have more of him. Your lips move against his. It is messy and needy and you hardly mind the teeth clashing with each other. Your fingers continue rubbing against your core, thighs squeezing till Jisung pulls back from you and holds your hand, pushing it away from your core. You let out a sob.

“Do I look like a joke to you?” Jisung’s stare hardens. “You think you’re going to have it easy after acting like a slut the whole night in front of daddy?”

“But Daddy—”

Jisung pushes up your little black dress, exposing only your thighs that glisten from all your wetness that dripped down and the minute you answer him back, his hand comes down against the thick flesh, pain stinging through you and stimulating you only more.

“Don’t talk back to Daddy. You should know better than this, princess.” He rubs the reddened flesh softly and places a kiss on top of it, only to pull back and slap harder, jolting your body upwards and letting out a gush of slicky wetness into your panties.

“What a dirty girl,” your fiancé laughs, rubbing his nose on your panties, sniffing before licking one thick stripe up your core, causing you to shove your body down onto him in want for more.

Jisung pulls himself up, getting off the bed and you whine at the sudden loss of body heat, arm instinctively going upwards to pull him back. He unbuttons the rest of them on his shirt and gestures at you to come closer. You crawl towards the edge of the bed, coming face to his crotch. You drop your arms down, supporting your body weight and quivering on all fours like a prey before its predator.

“Whip out my cock.”

Your eyes widen and you look up at Jisung over his questionable phrasing. He sniggers, “Go on.” You bend forward, knees digging into the mattress. With fumbling hands, you unbuckle his belt, leather hitting your cheek and you huff. You remove it and drop it down on the floor, metal clinking against the white tiles. You unhook the pants and pull the zipper down, and in one motion, you grip on the edge of the pants along with his briefs, pulling it down to his mid-thigh, cock hitting his solid abdomen before slowly erecting before you.

You quickly take hold of it, hands wrapping around his thick girth, moving your hands up and down his length teasingly, a small sigh leaving your lips. Jisung doesn’t bother to be careful or delicate with his actions. He takes a fist full of your hair as he pulls it down to lift your face up. Your grip on his cock tightens and you lick your lower lip as you look at your fiancé. Something about how you can look like so much of a tease and still look like a delectable mess gets him so turned on that Jisung doesn’t know what to do.

“Use your mouth. Warm it up so that I can fuck your throat.”

“Yes, daddy,” and you take the tip of his cock, complying to his order. Your tongue circles around the rim, swallowing the salty taste of precum before pushing yourself further down his length, your fingers digging into the mattress as Jisung holds your hair still in his hand.

The flat of your tongue presses against his underside, rubbing along the prominent vein that throbs out as you slowly move your head back and forth his length slowly and yet barely being able to take in his whole length in your buccal cavity.

“Baby,” Jisung gasps, his fingers clutching your hair tightly, pulling at your roots slightly. “Oh my god.” You hollow your mouth, bringing suction into play immediately when his voice shrills a little. “Your mouth—” Jisung has always been vocal during sex. He has informed you when and how you make him feel and if anything, you are so grateful because it helps you do the best for the man you love. “Feels so fucking good— oh shit!”

He holds your hair and shoves you down his cock, suddenly, and you choke on it, gagging around his length, throat tightening and tears spilling from your eyes. He moans so loud that you rut into the air and hold his thighs, nails digging into his thick flesh, “Deeper down that throat, oh fuck, oh shit. Yes, baby girl.”

Jisung’s eyes narrow as he throws his head back in pleasure. You feel him twitching in your mouth with every minute you take him deep down your throat, gags hitting off the flesh and dying in your mouth. He pulls out barely before he’s pushing back in, teeth gritted and eyes focused. He pulls your hair slightly, mumbling hoarsely, “Look at me, princess. Look at me.” You look at him, eyeballs rolling back a bit. “Tell me, baby. Could that waiter have that huge cock going down your throat? Could he?” You shake your head slightly to indicate no as he pushes in slightly, hips thrusting, your cheeks hitting his length. “No? That’s right, babygirl. No one can fuck you like I can. No one. You are all mine.”

You willingly move forward, nails digging further into his thigh as you take him deeper down your throat, your gag reflex kicking in. Jisung laughs, “You are such a slut. Isn’t that why you teased me by using that waiter there? Oh, I believe in you, baby. You can fit this cock down there so perfectly. Oh yes, you can.” He thrusts forward again after pulling out barely. Jisung lets go of your hair, it falling down your shoulder, and pushes the black dress over your lower body, exposing your arse.

Smack. It’s loud and clear and takes you by a surprise, hurling you forward, taking him in. His hand soothes the redness of your arse, “That’s my good girl. Fuck, fuck,” and a guttaral moan leaves his lips. His hand slaps across your butt cheek, the loud sound resonating through the walls of the room. You moan around his length, saliva dripping down your mouth. You are a whole mess for this man.

The sounds of your gagging bounces off the white walls of your bedroom, followed by the deep moans and sighs emitting out from your fiancé’s lips as he fucks your mouth mercilessly. Each thrust of his hips causes the head of his cock to push past your airway, your throat constricting and eliciting a groan from him.

“Back in,” he thrusts, only after letting you breathe for a short while and after hitting you across your butt cheek, happy at the sight of the red skin. “Fuck. Take this huge cock down your throat.” He caresses your face with his other hand. “God, you’re such a good little girl. Oh yes, you are.” You pull your head back, gasping for air and Jisung coos at how much of a good girl you are. “Take me back in. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Oh, just fucking using that throat all for my cock.” You hollow your mouth narrowly. “Oh, fuck. Oh, you are such a good little girl, taking my cock all the way in so well.”

With every thrust, you see how coated in your saliva Jisung’s cock is and you can only picture how you looked with your saliva around the face, with his precum smeared by the side of your lips. Jisung finally lets go of your hair, pulling himself back, removing his cock from your mouth, leaving you on your fours with swollen precum stained lips, red eyes with tears streaming down. A hot mess just for him.

Jisung squats down and taking your face in his hands, he kisses your forehead, speaking against your sweat coated skin, “You were so good. Such a perfect girl and all mine. I love you.”

You lift your head up and look at him, whispering back, “I love you too, boo.” Jisung kisses you softly, trying to calm your fast breathing down. Like a magic potion of strength being handed down, you hold the open ends of his white shirt as you pull him deeper into the kiss, his tongue lapping against yours.

He pulls back and stands up. You sit on the mattress, eyes falling down on to the white stains spoiling your pretty black dress and you frown. That had been one of your favorite dresses and now it is stained all thanks to Jisung being petty over the cute waiter that slipped his number on a paper despite seeing the obvious big diamond ring on your finger.

“Strip down,” and you listen. Your hand moves back to unzip the dress and it falls off your shoulder. “Slowly,” Jisung reminds you. You raise an eyebrow but choose to not question, chuckling slightly under your breath as your finger loops over the strap, dragging it down painfully slow. Till Jisung stops you midway and pushes you down onto the bed, body moving a little above. He hovers over you and taking your lips in for another kiss, he tells, “Keep the dress on for a short while. Want it on you as I reward you.”

He drags his lips down your skin, peppering kisses against the vast expanse and then, Jisung is sucking hickies by your neck — bright red ones that turn purple almost in a while and you are gasping, hands wrapping into his hair from behind as you bite into his shoulder sharply to suppress the moan.

His hand squeezes your breast over the dress that threatens to slip completely. “So pretty my princess is. She’s all mine.” In a flash, Jisung has pulled your black dress up to your abdomen, exposing your creamed panties. You bite your lip and suggest, “I’ve been good, Daddy. Please.”

“You sure have, princess.” Jisung kisses your thighs, biting and sucking at it as he places purple marks all over, whispering how you are all his for a lifetime to come. He hooks his fingers onto your panty straps and asks, “Lift your hips up,” which you follow, lifting them up only for Jisung to pull your panties down and exposing your wet, slodden lips thanks to him.

“So fucking wet,” he presses a kiss against it. “All for me. Who made you this fucking wet, princess?” He licks a strip up, lapping against the wetness, taking in and swallowing as much as he can as he waits for a response.

“You, Jisung. You,” you moan out. Your hand stretches out to reach for his hair, tugging at it to contain yourself. Jisung’s face is buried into your core. The room is filled with lewd noises and your moans. Jisung licks another stripe before wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking on it, loud noise of suckle resonating and causing you to move your hips slightly. Jisung however, clearly hates it when you do that as his teeth clasps one of your lips and puts slight pressure. Your legs shiver and you groan. His one hand also places your hips in position.

Jisung’s lips chase after your wet ones, tongue protruding out and small whines leaving him that does nothing but comfort you. He licks and licks, thumb pressing against your clit tapping at a steady pace and your mind is void with nothing but hope of Jisung bringing you to insanity.

“Could that stupid waiter ever eat you out like this?” Jisung questions as he pulls his head back, mocking you and you narrow your eyes out, huffing and like a brat, you say, “Changbin.”

“What?” His face hardens.

“The stupid waiter has a name. It’s Changbin.”

“You got his name?” Jisung looks so annoyed that you don’t even know why you wanted to push his buttons this far. Jisung pulls himself back, sitting on his ankles and looks at you, jaws tightened and teeth clenched.

“He had a name tag—” Jisung doesn’t listen. He’s too far gone to listen. Hot with anger and seeing nothing but red because his wife-to-be knows the name of the waiter that hit on her, he bends forward and holding the middle of your black dress with both his hands, he rips it clearly till the bottom, the sound of the tear shrilling against your eardrum. He pulls it away from your body and you stare in surprise, barely being able to say, “My dress!”

“I’ll buy you another one. One that stupid Changbin hasn’t laid his eyes on.”

Jisung is a lot harsher now and maybe this is what you wanted. Him to take you — to rail you like there is no tomorrow. Just you and him and these hours. He sucks on your now exposed breasts, licking around the areolar. His other hand massages the other breast and you are desperately in need of some friction against your clit which is left unattended because you decided to be a brat — because you decided to ruin your own reward.

“Jisung, please fuck me.”

“But do you think you deserve that?” He pulls back and he locks his gaze with you. “Or maybe you should call Changbin?”

His hand creeps his way upwards, wrapping around your neck as he angles your face to the side before breathing against your jawline, only to tug at your pinna and whisper in a deeper, hoarser tone, “Or maybe I should just leave you like this tonight?”

“Daddy, please,” you switch instantly, begging at the sudden thought of your fiancé actually leaving you like this. “I don’t want anyone else but you.”

Jisung sniggers and quickly spreads your leg. Holding your ankles, he pulls you closer. White shirt still donned on him and pants briefs long gone, Jisung takes you by a surprise as his cock enters you. You expected him to prolong your punishment but rather he gives in quickly, which leads you to your next worry — what does he have planned up his sleeve now?

You moan Jisung’s name out so loud as he pushes himself into you, filling you up inch by inch. Every single time your fiancé enters you, it feels like it belongs there, like no other man would ever be able to make you this full, this complete. You raise a hand to hold onto the sweaty shoulders of the man looming above you, arms casually draping over him as your fingernails rake over his broad tattooed back. Another moan is ripped from your body when Jisung lifts your hips up slightly to reach deeper into you with every powerful thrust.

Jisung is barely halfway in, large and thick, slightly purple and darkly red tinged cock stretching you around it. You are gasping for air at how huge he is and how there is still more to go for him to be completely in you. Every single time, it feels like you are filled to the limits, stretched entirely around Jisung’s large cock. Your mind goes blank with pleasure as your fiancé somehow manages to push himself further into you. You are furiously gasping for air, nails digging into his flesh that you worry you might have broken into the skin. The burning pain is tinged by a want and a lust, and over how good it felt as your body is pushed to its limits.

Jisung lets out an animalistic growl as he bottoms out in you, leaning down to capture your lips in his own, passionately, as he drags the kiss out to let you get used to his cock, something that you still need time over, after all these years. The kiss is dominating and brutal, sharp teeth nipping your plush swollen lips until blood is mixed with your saliva. You moan into his mouth, trying to move around his length, squeezing around him.

Jisung pants when he pulls away, soft grunts releasing from his lips and you find yourself growing wetter with every sound that leaves him. You hook your legs around his waist and grind up against him. Jisung places you back against the bed, trying to slowly pick up a steady pace. He shallowly thrusts into you, each movement scraping against your sensitive walls and pulling moans from your lips.

“Ah, fuck, daddy, you make me feel so good, filling me up, stretching me,” you spill as pleasure surges through your body. “You fill me so well, so warm. Move faster, please.”

Jisung lets out a low, dark groan and slammed back into you. His cock gets impossibly deeper as he seats himself to the hilt, leaning over you with lust filled eyes. Jisung hovers over you like a dark cloud, covering your entire body with his own much larger one. He grabs one of your breasts, squeezing it as he pushes himself into you, occasionally hitting you till your very end with his long cock. You bite your lips, hips moving along with him as you scream, “Daddy, ah. Fuck, daddy.”

“You belong to me,” Jisung roars out, hitting your spot over and over again as he fucks you mercilessly — fucks you stupid. “You are all mine.”

“I’m yours,” you scream. Your body bounces with his against the bed, your arms looped around his neck. Tears flow down your face at how wide Jisung stretches you with his cock and you can’t stop screaming, “I’m yours. I’m yours.”

There is a bulge in your stomach where Jisung’s cock reaches the hilt, stretching you in a way that has you shuddering with pleasure and crying from the pleasurable pain of being stretched so wide. You fucking love it. You love the feeling of being stretched and filled to the brim by Jisung. The burning pain that comes with each sharp drag against your walls. The name that leaves his lips — your name. Nothing could possibly be better than having something so large inside of you. Jisung tops it however, by wrapping his big hand around your neck, fingers digging into the flesh and choking the living air out of you by a bit before softening it.

There are no words left to articulate for Jisung as he leans down and bites into your neck, pistoning his hips to hit that perfect spot inside of you with every harsh thrust. He does as you expect and as you like. The hand over your breast moves upwards and wraps around your neck, asphyxiating you. Babbling words fall from your lips at the constant shift between too empty to too full, of your fiancé covering your body and taking it so brutally as his own, all while you gasp for air, vision blurry with tears spilling and head empty.

“Can—” he thrusts so hard that you grip on to him for the life of you, knots of threads soon to snap. “Can that fucking Changbin make you feel like this? Never.” He thrusts so quick that you barely have the time to think. Jisung voices his possession over you with every thrust.

“I’m the only one that’ll fuck you like this. Only one to fuck your brains out, to fuck you stupid. Only one to taste you and devour you. Only one to love you till the universes collide and ever after that.”

He soon falls to loud moans and you, to garbled names of Han Jisung. He kisses you, taking all your moans as his, hand loosening around your neck. Jisung presses one of his hands lightly against the bulge each time he pushes it all the way in. He knows that you are close and digs his finger into your neck as he thrusts harder, pubic bone hitting against your clit rhythmically.

“Jisung!” It’s a desperate prayer, begging at him to hold onto your sanity. You come around his cock, the white flash spreading under your eyelids and you’re weeping. Your heart swells and you feel the rushing oxytocin clouding your brain. Jisung thrusts sloppily into you, chasing after his own orgasm. You can tell that he is close as you wrap your weak legs tightly around him, squeezing around his thick, large cock in you. His hips stutter and you feel him come undone in you. Thick fluid shooting in you, coating your walls with it.

He pulls his cock out slowly, your cum and his mixed, leaking out from you and staining the bedsheets underneath. The two of you breath rapidly as Jisung collapses over you and you chuckle lightly, kissing his earlobe and whisper, “I only love you in this world, baby.”

“I know. I was just being stupid and petty. I couldn't—” He lifts himself off and drops to your side, pulling you closer into his chest as he caresses your hair softly. Jisung tries to explain and you hush him shut.

“I loved it. I love this. And I love you.”

“In this for a whole lifetime, of course.”

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knifefather · 3 years

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Looking Up at Us [Submission]

'Looking Up at Us

|*| DISCLAIMERS: Hello! It me! This is my first fic ever. Uhhh, Giorno’s a giant dick and Narancia’s an angel (literally and figuratively :] ) So yandere-ish themes, manipulation, and other mean things. This is a three-year span after the events of VA. |*|'

I APPLAUD YOU ON YOUR FIRST FIC ANON!!! This one really hit me right in the feels :'') Honestly you wrote Giorno so well because I literally wanted to strangle him!! He reminds me so much of Dio here and I fucking love it. I can't believe he stole their song ;a; OP outlined the yandere and manipulation content warnings, but there is also some major character death! Please be warned!

“Hey, when we get married let’s use that Aerosmith song.”

Narancia laughed as the smaller of the two let out an embarrassed squeal and tried burying her head deeper into his neck. They laid together on his bed in his rather untidy room talking about anything and everything that crossed their minds. But he was always so brash, and making her red was a favorite pastime of his. “Duuude, don’t even joke about that!’” she giggled, “We’re, still, ya know teens,” she emphasized that by flicking her hand around. He continued laughing, tightened his grip on her, and kissed the top of her head. Even if he was teasing the poor girl, he always meant what he said.

“You’d look really pretty in this dress I saw the other day. It wasn’t long as shit like those rich people…” Narancia slowly trailed off realizing she wasn’t responding. When he looked down at her, he saw she wasn’t smiling anymore and looked lost in her own thoughts. He wiggled away from her a little to look at her properly and softly called her name. “Hey, you good?”

“Promise me you’ll stay,” she looked at him earnestly and caught the poor boy off guard. What was going through that busy head of hers? He was speechless and for a moment he gawked at her. The frenzied teen then added with intensity, “You better stay with me forever and ever and and- I don’t- just… please..” And it finally clicked what she meant, and he gave her his biggest smile.

“Don’t worry, miele! You’re gonna have to deal with me for a while,” he chimed as he pulled her closer and gave her another peck to her forehead. She looked up at him with watery eyes and smile, “I’d love nothing more. Just promise me, please?

He leaned lower to kiss her softly on the lips. They both knew that was an impossible promise but still, “I’ll try my best.” He snuggled back up to her and they both slowly sunk back into the previous loving tranquility. They’ll both try, but mafia life was so unpredictable, but it’ll be worth the try if they could stay together.

“So, what are we gonna name our first kid?”

“Narancia Ghirga!!”

“Yeah, Mrs. Ghirga?” Narancia couldn’t stop laughing even as he was shoved off the bed.

Three months. It’s been three months, but his voice still rings in her head. His goofy smile, bubbly laughter, his smothering hugs were all nothing but distant memories that no longer warmed her, but instead chilled her core. Their places where they caused mischief and held impromptu dates only held ghosts of what was and what could have been. These thoughts haunted her every waking moment. Even when she slept, they caused nothing but sweet dreams that left her bitter and empty in the morning. But Narancia wasn’t the only one she missed dearly. Finding Abbacchio in the state he was and running back full of hope to the colosseum only to find out Bruno was the final victim. But thanks to him, they find out he was actually the first. Giorno had admitted after their discovery that they had been travelling with a reanimated corpse. At the time her, Mista, Trish, were too busy crying to even care.

For the new Don’s first year, she was present. When Fugo returned, she welcomed him with open arms. She stayed for as long as could but looking at Giorno mad her sick. Violence and anger grew inside by just being around him and his voice made her gag. Staying there brought her closer to the edge as she struggled between collapsing into tears or killing her Don in a fiery fit. That’s when she distanced herself from everyone. Of course, it worried Fugo and Mista to death when the last surviving member of their gang suddenly went off the radar. Even if it was for the wellbeing of everyone there, it didn’t sit right with anyone. Especially Giorno Giovanna.

The two-year absence was hell, for her anyways. At first jobs would take her resumes and interviews, but soon they would turn her away at sight of her face or sound of her voice. Her temporary apartment kicked her out and hotels refused service to the point she was forced to either stay in motels or rent somewhere for a while until they too kicked her out. When people started to whisper and gossip as she passed by, that was the final straw. It was lonely. It was frustrating! Was it because of the mafia association? No, that should guarantee a decent job and place to stay. And then it clicked. The root of her problems lies at the head of Passione.

So, here the young woman stood in front of him, arms wrapped securely around herself, as Mista stood watching them at the closed entrance. Giorno’s grown, nearly six feet and obviously physically stronger than before. She squeezed tighter hoping to mimic Narancia’s hugs as she tried to gather her courage and find the words. For a while it was suffocating silence as no one dared to speak first. They were both strategizing, planning how to attack and counter the other’s words. But finally, the devil’s replacement spoke, “Hello, tersoro. I’m glad to see you’re-“

“Cut the crap. I know what’re you doing. Stop it.” And with that she turned to leave. Mista stepped out the way to let her go until a soft laugh stopped her, “Are you still torn up about them? Really?” She stopped and slowly turned to face him. She finally snapped.

“Are you serious?” She spat at him. “Why wouldn’t I be upset that you killed my friends? My family?!”

“The love of your life?” She glared at the blonde as he had the audacity the smile at the thought of their deaths. In that moment, she wanted to kill him. Her stand was at the ready. Mista didn’t even attempt to reach for his gun as he knew she wouldn’t do something stupid like that, but he, too, thought of shooting Giorno as well. Giorno tsked and slowly walked around his desk to lean against the front of it, showing just how little her threat meant to him. “My dear, you don’t understand. They were steppingstones to help change Passione for the greater good.”

“Steppingstones?! Don’t act like their bodies were your path to “greatness”! What exactly have you fixed, huh? There are SEVEN more assassin squads. You haven’t stopped drugs like you promised Bruno. Instead, you’ve barely stopped selling it kids ten and under! Don’t act like they were your sacrifices!” The rage burned inside her, and she could no longer control her words. “Why did they have to go to heaven, huh?! They deserve to be here, not you! Bruno should be where you are! Leone should’ve left you die! Narancia should be back in school! It’s all your FAULT!” They both lunged at Giorno only for GER to grab the opposing stand and for Giorno to effortlessly grabbed her fist. One arm wrapped firmly around her waist and the other then swooped in and tilted her head up to kiss her ever so softly.

“My, my such a temper,” he murmured, “I’ve always loved that about you.” In that moment all the fire that was built up for years turned ice cold, as fear gripped her insides. She wasn’t expecting this strength. Wide eyes stared up into the unnatural turquoise of his. He slowly turned her head from side to side, as if examining her. “You poor thing. You look so tired and overworked,” and she was. “I bet those horrible businesses could see it on you. Turned you away like street trash. Poor, poor thing.” The young woman’s voice had left her as she tried to process everything. Just what was he planning?

“D-Don’t act like you didn’t do all that crap to me” She hated the sudden stutter in her voice but was thankful words even came out. The young woman started fighting in his grip which caused him to tighten. “Let me go! What was that kiss?! WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!” But she was only met with a chuckle. As he spun her around and pressed her back against his chest. “My dear, I was only trying to bring back what was mine. Tesoro, mia. So independent. We’ll have to break that.” She fought harder and let out a cry of pain as Giorno dug his fingernails in the meat of her cheeks, getting annoyed at her fighting spirit.

“Now, I want you to listen to listen to me. I really don’t want to repeat myself,” he nipped her neck, “nor do I want to hurt more than I should.” Giorno leaned closer and whispered, “You’re mine. I’ve loved you for too long to let you get away and whore around like you did with him.” He shoved her to the ground and held her there with his foot, pressing harder with every squirm. “Go against me, and your little angelo will be dug up, burned, and flushed down a portable. Or maybe I’ll finish off the rest of your gang.” She struggled to look up at him as he glared down at her. His mouth quirked into a smirk as he spoke again, “Whose to say mafioso even go to heaven, hm? My sweet, delusional darling.” Giorno dropped to the floor and scooped her up in his arms again hugging her tightly. She was too scared to fight back. Not knowing what would set him off. He quietly laughs at how broken the poor woman was. So easy to break in already.

“Let me take care you. Love you. Cherish you like you deserve. You’ll learn to love me.” He gripped her arms in a bruising grasp and whispered dangerously smooth, “Or you’ll die trying.”

___________________________________________

Her wedding gown shimmered and swayed gently as she and her new husband made their way to the center of the dance floor. Each step weighted heavy on her heart as the gravity of it all grew. Their movements were calculated and coordinated, just like everything else because it was all artificial for her. There was no true love, no true feelings in this forced arrangement. No more fight in her dull eyes that refused to make eye contact with anyone because then they would see just how much he’s broken her in just a year. One wrong move will surely be the one she’ll ever make.

No one in the ballroom could see the despair ripping away whatever dignity was left as she wrapped her arms around his neck or the bile she choked back as he greedily slipped his arms around her waist. If only she could keep tightening her arms like a noose until he was no more but a horrid memory. The room was filled with ‘awws’ and loving gazes as the couple settled gracefully into the position they had practiced many a times before. She finally turned her emotionless gaze to him. Giorno Giovanna chuckled at her. His new wife was so dramatic.

“And now the newly weds will share their first dance together!” someone, who she didn’t care enough to learn their name, announced as if he was getting paid on his excitement and not on the fact if he squealed, he gets killed. She closed her eyes as the crowd cheered, swallowed her sickness, and sighed. She made it this long without throwing up or crying, she can get through this dance.

“The groom has picked this song out specifically for his new, beautiful wife. Isn’t that romantic?” The crowd cheered and clapped in blissful ignorance at the display of affection. The bride’s eyes snapped open at this new revelation and stared in shock at Giorno who only smiled. But when the music began, her heart finally burst. Tears welled and spilled freely down her cheeks as that Aerosmith song, their song, played and she was forced to move to its now bittersweet beat. Giorno’s wife shakily looked up at him and chocked on her tears. Once again, chuckled and lean in to whisper with honeyed venom his final victory,

“Oh miele, I bet he’s looking up at us right now, amore mio.”

(OK Tumblr formatting is weird but I wanna add: Yes it Don’t Wanna Miss a Thing that Narancia and darling picked as their first dance which Girono stole. And Narancia was the only one allowed to call darling Miele as an inside joke for “Honey! I’m Home”. Also WHY WAS THIS 2K+???)

#god im still in awe of this #so freakin good #narancia ghirga x reader #giorno giovanna x reader #cw yandere #cw major character death #submission #not mine #jjba #not sfw #suggestive

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firelxdykatara · 3 years

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gods, ok, apparently i’m not done.

atla fandom? we need to have a chat.

(....ok that made me sound pretentious as fuck. and maybe i am, but this needs to be said, cause i’m getting....real, real tired of a Certain Corner of this fandom and as a result, this is gonna be a discourse-heavy post so feel free to scroll past if that’s not your bag. as always, my salt posts all carry the catch-all #salt for ts tag, which you’re free to blacklist/filter at your leisure. i’m Very Annoyed at the moment, which will probably come through in the following post, so just. yknow. be prepared for that. or ignore it, that’s perfectly valid too.)

under a cut bc i do care for my followers and their sanity i swear lmao

there’s a real serious issue in this fandom with not understanding what queer terminology actually means or implies, especially when applied to a fictional narrative.

i’m specifically talking about ‘coding’, here. (if i were in a more meme-y mood, i might have said ‘the atla fandom found out about the term “gay-coding” and haven’t shut up since’.)

to the people who say ‘zuko is gay-coded’, i have this to say: you keep using that word. i do not think it means what you think it means. because he isn’t. i’m sorry, but he’s not! and the fact that this is such a prevalent claim in this fandom is distressing, bc it says to me that none of y’all know what gay-coding is or when and how to apply it! please, i’m begging you, go and look up these terms and what they mean and when they should be used before actually trying to plug them into your critical analysis, because when you misuse them and then call other people delusional for disagreeing with you it casts a pall over the entire fandom and is, i think, the root of some of the worst toxicity this fandom has to offer.

and the thing is, there are cases where gay-coding would apply--for instance, a couple series that are famous for queerbaiting their audience by coding their main characters as being attracted to one another (sometimes even despite their openly stated sexualities) come to mind, but those shows bare no similarities at all to atla and how zuko was written and portrayed! (and it would be funny, if it weren’t so obnoxious and infuriatingly wide-spread throughout the fandom, because the only queer couple we actually seen on-screen in either show wasn’t even queer-coded in any respect, and they’re canonically bi! [yes, i’m shading korrasami, or more accurately i’m shading bryke for refusing to give ka the build-up and development they deserved].)

this absolutely isn’t to say that headcanoning zuko as gay is a bad thing or invalid in any respect. (although the tendency for zukka shippers to do this specifically to keep zuko away from katara and/or invalidate his canon relationship/attraction to girls is more than a little eyebrow raising. especially since sokka is usually allowed to be bi, bc fans have no problem letting sukka stay in the background bc it’s no real threat, while jetko shippers are happy to have both boys be bi. [possibly bc katara is less a threat to jetko bc jetkotara is every bit as valid as any single ship between the three, but zukka can’t exactly let katara join in, and if the potential exists for zuko to be attracted to her then canon giving them the far deeper emotional bond becomes a threat to zukka’s existence? idk for sure--you be the judge.]) i prefer to hc zuko as bi (and always have, long before the atla renaissance), bc i don’t think zuko being attracted to boys is outside the realm of possibility, and it isn’t a threat to my ship since zuko&katara had a deep and emotional bond in canon that is very easy to develop further into something that becomes explicitly romantic--but the headcanon itself isn’t really the problem (although what it’s often in service to can be).

it’s the strange insistence that this is the only way to read his character, bc he was coded that way and so anyone who doesn’t see it must be too straight to understand--and i really shouldn’t have to say why and how that is so incredibly fucking insulting. (the ‘hetero lenses’ comment wasn’t cute when it came from bryke six years ago, and the same sentiment being repackaged and delivered by zukka shippers ain’t cute now.)

calling zuko gay-coded not only demonstrates ignorance as to what the term actually means, and how to usefully apply it in critical analysis, but also validates the frankly bullshit insertion of institutionalized homophobia in the world of atla where it was neither needed, nor wanted, nor ever hinted at in canon. as a queer woman i’m still infuriated by one fucking comic panel shoving institutionalized and systemic homophobia into a world where it was entirely unnecessary (and doing this in the first installment of the franchise showcasing a queer relationship??? making korra and asami worried about ‘coming out’ when they could have just gone on to have cute adventures together and tell people ‘hey we’re dating’ and have everyone else be ‘that’s awesome =DDD’ [because it is, in fact, possible to just have a world without homophobia i promise!!!!!] double yikes, i’m still pissed at bryke about it), and i doubly hate that ‘zuko is gay coded’ has become so widespread that ‘ozai hates him bc he’s gay’ has become a staple in that part of the fandom.

not only does making zuko gay and implying (or outright stating) that ozai hated and abused him because of it completely undermine zuko’s character arc by making his abuse about his sexuality rather than ozai’s toxic pride and anger at seeing himself reflected in his ‘weak’ son, but it comes very close to outright stating that abuse and trauma are inherently gay experiences, and they aren’t!!! they really aren’t, i promise!!!

abuse and trauma narratives exist outside of ‘my dad hates me because i’m gay’. and, quite frankly, there are MORE THAN ENOUGH queer trauma narratives out in the world. we do not need to start trying to retroactively make them canon in a series where they didn’t exist! if you’re gay and see yourself in zuko and project your own experiences on him, that’s understandable and valid. that does not make zuko gay-coded. and honestly, the insistence that he is makes very little sense to me, because you’re essentially trying to give the show credit for work you put into interpreting the characters! why would you want to do that? why not own your own headcanons and take credit for them, rather than insisting they are canon and everyone else is wrong for not seeing them??? like, i’ve said before that i’ve always headcanoned zuko (and katara) as bi, and even support it with my interpretations of evidence from the show, but the difference between ‘i think zuko is bi’ and ‘zuko is definitely gay-coded’ is that i know that bi zuko is my interpretation of canon, and that it is work i’m putting into the show that wasn’t actually intended by the creators/writers, no matter how much sexual tension i read into the jetko swordfight.

and like, zuko’s character arc doesn’t actually parallel a queer one all that well to begin with. it’s easy enough to do the work and twist it sideways just enough to make the general points fit, but the fact is, zuko’s arc is not one of self-discovery. it’s not one of coming to understand something fundamental about himself that he can’t change, that he was hated for, and coming out to his father in a dramatic confrontation where he shows that he understands himself and doesn’t need his father’s acceptance to be fulfilled.

zuko’s arc is actually one of trauma and healing. and those can (and often are--like i said, there are more than enough queer trauma narratives in the world, atla really doesn’t need to be one of them) be part of queer narratives, for sure! but they aren’t uniquely queer. and zuko’s confrontation with ozai during the eclipse doesn’t read like a ‘coming out’ at all. (yes, i’ve seen that post. yes, i rolled my eyes and moved on, bc unlike some people, i’m capable of not clowning on correctly tagged posts i disagree with.) zuko is specifically confronting ozai over his abuse, because his arc wasn’t about discovering anything fundamental about himself (and therefore realizing that ozai was hating him for something he couldn’t change)--it was about realizing that he was not at fault for the way his father treated him. it was also about realizing that the fire nation was broken and corrupt at its core, and that his father was an aspect of that he needed to break away from so that he could help the world begin to heal.

he says it himself:

Zuko: No, I've learned everything! And I've had to learn it on my own! Growing up, we were taught that the Fire Nation was the greatest civilization in history. And somehow, the War was our way of sharing our greatness with the rest of the world. What an amazing lie that was. The people of the world are terrified by the Fire Nation. They don't see our greatness. They hate us! And we deserve it! We've created an era of fear in the world. And if we don't want the world to destroy itself, we need to replace it with an era of peace and kindness.

making this about zuko being gay and rejecting ozai’s homophobia, rather than zuko learning fundamental truths about the world and about his home and about how there was something deeply wrong with his nation that needed to be fixed in order for the world to heal (and, no, ‘homophobia’ is not the answer to ‘what is wrong with the fire nation’, i’m still fucking pissed at bryke about that), misses the entire point of his character arc. this is the culmination of zuko realizing that he should never have had to earn his father’s love, because that should have been unconditional from the start. this is zuko realizing that he was not at fault for his father’s abuse--that speaking out of turn in a war meeting in no way justified fighting a duel with a child.

is that first realization (that a parent’s love should be unconditional, and if it isn’t, then that is the parent’s fault and not the child’s) something that queer kids in homophobic households/families can relate to? of course it is. but it’s also something that every other abused kid, straight kids and even queer kids who were abused for other reasons before they even knew they were anything other than cishet, can relate to as well. in that respect, it is not a uniquely queer experience, nor is it a uniquely queer story, and zuko not being attracted to girls (which is what a lot of it seems to boil down to, at the end of the day--cutting down zuko’s potential ships so that only zukka and a few far more niche ships are left standing) is not necessary to his character arc. nor does it particularly make sense.

(and before anyone brings up his date with jin--a) he enjoyed it when she kissed him, and b) he was a traumatized, abused child going out on a first date. of course he was fucking awkward. have you ever met a teenage boy????)

anyway, uh, that was a lot of words, so have a tl;dr: zuko is not gay-coded. there is nothing uniquely gay (or even uniquely queer) about his character arc or characterization, and he was certainly not coded gay in an attempt to sneak a queer character past the censors. if anyone involved with atla was gonna try that, it would’ve been in lok, and as established, they didn’t even manage to queer-code the actual queer relationship before the last few minutes of the final episode. headcanoning zuko as gay is absolutely fine (though if it’s only done to keep him away from female characters he may otherwise be attracted to, that smells more like misogyny than anything else), but insisting that this reading is the only one that makes sense, and anyone who doesn’t agree must be straight (hello, queer woman here making this insanely long thinkpiece) is very much not.

ship what you like, but stop trying to invalidate other ships and other interpretations of characters just to make your ship seem more plausible. it’s really not a good look.

#atla #zuko #zukka salt #more like zukka shipper salt #atla fandom salt #salt for ts #zuko is not gay coded and im so so tired of seeing that argument in this fandom #it's fine as a hc but it's not canon and was never remotely intended and his arc isn't particularly evocative of a gay narrative #long post #queer things

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oswinsdolma · 3 years

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Yes, it's 2021, but I'm still not over the dark irony of Kilgharrah's final words, so I am going to analyse it, even though precisely nobody asked.

Firstly, Kilgharrah tells Merlin after his admission of failure that "all that [he has] dreamt of has come to pass". Now, obviously there is the irony of the fact that Arthur is dead, something that Merlin has been trying to prevent for the whole five seasons, yet the battle was victorious, people have seen magic as a force for good and Merlin can now be open about his gifts with his friends. However, there is an even deeper irony here that is rarely addressed, and this lies in the word "all". The problem is, that while Emrys is the entity that strives for magical inclusion and the one that fufils the prophecy. Destiny is not conscious: it doesn't understand life or death beyond the shallow ties of balance and mathematics. Yet Emrys may be a concept, and concepts need someone- or something- to take root in, and that someone happened to be Merlin.

Fundamentally, Merlin is not a bad person, but regardless of his power, his empathy, his loyalty, he is still unequivocally human. He has flaws, he has guilt, and no matter how dedicated he is to his destiny, there will always be other variables that come into play, and there is therefore no doubt that Merlin would have had other thoughts, no matter how insignificant, that lay opposed to his destiny.

Take when Freya died: Merlin was heartbroken, and in those seconds of emotion before reason took a hold once again, he may have wished, just for a moment, that Arthur and Freya's fates were reversed. And even after that, he would have hoped that one day, Arthur and Freya could live in a world where the other's existence is not a violation onto the other. And what place exists where harmony must ensue outside of the dead?

Then moving on to Balinor's death and Merlin's anguish in its aftermath: yes, he gained his powers as a dragonlord, but at the expense of a father he should have had a right to know. In that light, there is the inevitability of resentment for his gifts. Merlin would never have wanted the powers he attained had he known the price for them. And yet again, those tiny thoughts would have crept in: the wish that things could go differently, the wish that the business of dragons was not his to oversee, even at the time when his gifts were needed most. So the sick twist there is that when Merlin needed Kilgharrah, the only person who ever truly understood him despite their differences, left him alone, that wish came true.

There are hundreds of instances where Merlin's humanity prevented the prophecy from taking a favourable turn, and that, I think is what makes Merlin less a drama than a tragedy: there's the hope for a better ending combined with the constant prescence of an ending you don't want to believe. There's the fall at the ending and the warped sense of catharsis that comes with knowing that the end did come, even if it wasn't what you expected.

Following that, there is a pause in the conversation, as both characters take a second to mourn in silence, the absence of what united them showing them no longer as allies, but as friends.

Then: "no man, no matter how great, can know his destiny." This isn't so much something for Merlin to understand, but more something for the audience to hear: it's an echo of the first words we hear, and therefore a reminder that it is Kilgharrah who tells the story. Now this is an interesting narrative device in itself: why have him narrate rather than Arthur? Why Kilgharrah over Merlin or Gwen or Morgana? Take a second to imagine what it would have been like for the story to start with their voices, even if the words were the same. Especially when we know their endings, it gives the story a different tone and alludes to each of their fates in a different way. Though here is that terrible truth that the narrative comes back to every time if you analyse it far enough: each of the core four has a story, yet because of the way they were used, it will never be their story to tell. But Kilgharrah... He was just as important as the rest of them, but while the others were pawns, he was sat watching the game with a reluctant but omniescent eye, and that's what make that line hit so hard for us (aside from the fact that it is a taunting echo of the hope we had at the start). The story, while timeless, is dead, and we are all helpless spectators, hoping against hope that we are wrong about how it ends.

Furthermore, there is the fact that it is a repeat of the first words we hear when we still hold a little hope. It is that reiteration of the fact that the story will be told and retold, rewritten and loved but doomed to end in tragedy. It's an indication of the timelessness of certain tales and the permenence of endings no matter how much we want them to change, and it hits the mark every time.

Then, if it wasn't sad enough already, there is the final utterence of the phrase "once and future king". Kilgharrah says these words in hope, trusting Merlin to take it as a promise, but retrospectively there is the darkness of that line that Merlin probably knew all along, even if he didn't let himself believe it. In saying "once" rather than "now" right from the get-go, there was that quiet acknowledgement of an ending, even if it was followed by a beginning: it is yet another reminder to Merlin that he should have known, and that bittersweet reassurance that wherever he may have done, it would always have ended in disaster. Even if they both made all the right choices, the gods would have found another way to turn it down.

Okay, next let's look at "when Albion's need is greatest, Arthur will rise again". This, in all.effect, is a reiteration of the last phrase, made clearer for an audience who may need or desire reinforcement here so I'm not going to go too deep. But the thing is, Merlin already knows, at least in his heart, that it is Arthur's destiny to rise again and be the greatest king Albion has ever known. So when Kilgharrah says this, it is not a warning or a piece of advice, for perhaps the first time, it is a kindness. Merlin has been wrecked by his actions and those of all the others caught in the imperfect web spun and left to decay by the idea of Albion. It is a gentle reminder not to forget the reason for all that they have lost, and an olive branch of freedom for one who was so long enslaved.

And there again is that irony and cruel truth that while Merlin is the crucible in which that dream will be forged and has a certain autonomy over its nature, he is not a part of that dream himself, and maybe he never will be. Not unless someone lets him in, and all the people who would ever have done so are a breath too close to death for it to really count.

(I said I wasn't going to go too deep but I got carried away)(this is why my lit teacher is fed up with me)

And finally, the last line Kilgharrah says to us, perhaps the most powerful of them all: "the story that we have been a part of will live long in the minds of men". To analyse the words in this individually would be a rare insult to its complexity, but as a phrase, it evokes such an emotive response that it alone finally cements that finality in our minds. It's the cyclical acknowledgement of the audience's role in the narrative, simultaneously retracting and strengthening our suspension of belief. The one word I have used more than any other in this essay is "story" and this is why: the people who hear a tale such as this become just as important as the characters, because we are united by hope for the final chord but dreading it, because that means that the song will finally be over. Is it better for the embers to glow with tragedy or be extinguished by a deeper catharsis?

In summary, it is obvious to the naked eye that the Great Dragon's last words are loaded with meaning far beyond their initial appearance, and when you dive deeper, the web of connotations is so vast that this essay has barely scratched the surface. But the informal and perhaps most accurate theme that wa can draw from this is that none of us are over this show, no matter what we claim, because that ending really flippin' hurt, okay!?

#bbc merlin #merlin #kilgharrah #sorry for the inevitable typos and poor writing because i never proofread my essays before i post #i have a lot of feelings

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wrctings · 3 years

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Jean Kirschtein x reader | Friends, or is it more?

the more i watch aot, the more i love jean... his moments of self-doubt and his moved smile truly are heart-wrenching 🥺

fandom: Attack on Titan pairing: Jean Kirschtein x reader summary: Where you realise that you’re falling for your best friend, whose heart is already taken—or so you thought. Fortunately, what becomes a saddening party can also turn into an unexpected occasion to make things right. word count: 3.3k

Sometimes, belonging to the Scouts regiment came with something that, from up close, resembled a flicker of momentary joy. You had, of course, been aware of the harrowing shadow of a reputation that trudged behind the wings of liberty: danger, death and despair; the three Ds accompanying your pledge to humanity drummed their deafening beat alongside your horse's frenzied gallop whenever you took place in the formation that led you outside the walls, the wind hurling through your hair and your senses at the height of their tension, ready to signal the approach of a titan at any given minute, bracing your body for every possible threat. You had faith in commander Erwin, had faith in your comrades—if giving your life was necessary for your cause, then, you had silently promised yourself and your people, you would give it with eyes wide open and undefeated fierceness, be it in the heat of battle or any other way. The wings embroidered upon your cape represented your beliefs more intensely than any word—as long as there was a Scout left, hope would live still; blossom upon the tall grass that freely grew upon the tombs of your fallen comrades. Even the smallest victory made you believe that a change could be made—and even the smallest victory was celebrated in the battalion as a sign that bode well for the foreseeable future. It was such celebrations, though as small as the victories they marked, that made room for moments of joy the regiment could barely encounter at other times. And when those moments came, life suddenly appeared coated with a hundred colours, full of humorous idiocies and heedless amusement that stirred up in you all the youthful glee of not caring about a thing in the world but the people around you and the drink in your hand.

"You guys won't believe the position we found Bertholdt in this morning!"

Seated beside Armin, who himself flanked Eren as Mikasa had naturally settled on the other side of their childhood friend, you leaned further on the wooden table of the barrack in order to hear your brunet friend more distinctly, his excited voice reviving the conversation at once. Drawn by a cheerful and carefree sort of curiosity, which was well fueled by the general bright mood, finding out about Bertholdt's daily sleeping position suddenly appeared like the most fascinating event one could discuss, especially when followed by the boys' weather previsions based on their comrade's often strange and tangled up poses. You exchanged an amused look with Mikasa, and though your friend's features remained almost as impassive as usual, the vivid twinkle you caught through the dark shine of her eyes mirrored your cheery behaviour; Armin's face, on the other hand, wore an expressive smile, the blond boy remembering vividly the description of Bertholdt that Eren began recounting.

But even as you laughed at the image of Bertholdt's knees somehow managing to stay bent as he slept on his stomach, the upper part of his legs outstretched toward the sky in an unusual—to say the least—position, your gaze went on sweeping the room, in search of the one person you couldn't wait to chat with again, though you also got along really well with Armin, Mikasa and Eren. The only problem was, said person was not that fond of the self-righteous brunet ball of energy sat at your table, so you were not surprised to find him in Conny and Sasha's company instead, talking animatedly. You had already had the opportunity to chat with Jean earlier that evening, the two of you having grown so close to each other that it would've been impossible for you not to cross paths tonight, but you wondered whether you would drift toward each other again before the makeshift party came to an end; Captain Levi had been surprisingly unbothered by your shy request to celebrate today's mission's success, accepting it on the sole condition that only soft drinks were to be consumed—Armin suspected that Commander Erwin was responsible for granting the new recruits' wishes, as they had after all already endured quite a lot during the expedition to retrieve Eren from Annie.

"We better watch out for that sleeping position of Bertholdt's, maybe it means good luck," Armin observed lightheartedly, taking a sip from his drink.

"You should keep a notebook with all of them, and maybe you'll crack the code someday," you added with a chuckle, the three of you glancing at Bertholdt.

Having your 104th comrades with you in the Scouts regiment really did bring you a lot of comfort to help you navigate these new uncharted waters, though it also made it acutely unbearable to imagine that some of them might not make it back next time; Marco served as your first and most painful lesson that even those dearest to you were never safe. It was after the freckled boy's death that you and Jean had truly bonded, brought together by the devastating loss of your kindhearted friend. You had become each other's rocks since then—checking up on each other after training sessions and expeditions, playful teasing and calling each other all sorts of funny nicknames rooted into the core of your friendship, giving it all its strength. And it was when you had been injured during the 57th expedition and Jean had almost hysterically ran up to you afterwards, cursing with no restraint and holding your arm so tightly it hurt when he helped you limp toward the medical wing, that you had been hit for the first time, though still shaken from slaying a titan and the bloody cut burning your leg, by how grateful you were to have made it out alive, to have Jean by your side. It was then that you had realised that there was no one else you would rather be with than him—it was something more than anything you've ever felt before, as your timidly pounding heart had been reminding you ever since.

But another thing unavoidable when being friends with Jean, of course, was the bickering between your comrade and Eren—and this evening was no different from any other week. A few minutes later, as you engaged in a pleasant conversation with Armin, your attention was drawn by the thunderous eruption of voices that suddenly shook the walls of the barrack, making many pairs of surprised eyes turn toward the belligerent protagonists of the argument. It just had to be Eren and Jean, hadn't it? Like the rest of your comrades, you couldn't possibly guess where the spark that ignited this new inferno came from, but with these two, a valid reason often wasn't needed; to the greatest despair of the 104th, both boys possessed magic powers to summon reasons to fight out of thin air. At the present moment, both Eren and Jean were actively yelling at each other, shooting names and accusations back and forth.

However, the lack of rational incidents to cause such a scene didn't mean that there was no deeper reason for Jean's outbursts, just like Eren's counter-attacks originated from his legendary stubbornness already well-known to his fellow comrades. You had been suspecting for a long time that Jean mainly proclaimed his hatred towards Eren because of Mikasa. Before the 57th expedition, when both of you were in a playful and mischievous mood, you would even friendlily tease Jean about his soft spot for the dark haired young woman, which he hadn't hidden very well ever since Mikasa and he met for the first time. It was quite unfortunately, really, that your heart had finally chosen Jean, of all people, to fall for—as if you weren't well aware of how much he admired and liked Mikasa! And this mascarade surely had to have been orchestrated to get her attention, just like many other failed schemes of Jean's, as Mikasa barely seemed interested in anyone but Eren, Armin, sometimes Sasha, and you.

"There he goes again..." You muttered downheartedly, sparing a glance at your best friend.

"It's Eren and Jean, after all..." Armin responded with a sorry smile, squirming on the bench to get further away from Eren, who was now up on his feet and facing Jean with balled up fists. Mikasa watched the two boys through squinted eyes, at the ready to jump and knock over Jean if needed—at least, your friend's plan to get her attention had succeeded.

"I know how this is going to end," you told Armin under your breath, averting your gaze from the fighters. "You know what, I think it's right about time for me to head off. I don't want to witness Captain Levi tearing their heads off for wrecking havoc in here."

"Really? Don't you want to stay a little longer? I'm sure it won't come to this!"

"I don't even want to know. Goodnight, Armin, thank you for the nice chat," you excused yourself, fleeing from the barrack swift as a cat, only the passage of a furtive ray of light on the floor signifying that the door to the room had been opened as quickly as it was closed.

You knew better than to cling onto something you could not reach, so why endure the spectacle of such a foolish play?

Outside, nighttime had descended upon the camp with its soothing quietness. Nothing in sight but the warm flutter of torches fixed upon the barracks; nothing ringing in your ears but the chirping melody of a cricket's song, its echo delicately carried away by the evening wind. No ecstatic shouting, no blaring laughter. Nothing but a lone constellation half-veiled by the grey trail of clouds that unhurriedly floated upon the dark depths of the sky. No Jean, no Eren. You took a lungful of fresh air before a long sigh lifted off your chest—if only things could go back to the way they had been. Back when Jean was nothing but a fun and (sweetly) annoying horse-faced boy to be around, and no cause for heartache.

You took some more steps ahead, the muffled sounds you could still hear from inside dying out as you walked further away. Although you had told Armin that your time to go had come, you didn't feel like getting back to bed right now; actually, you didn't feel like anything but escaping for a little while.

At last, you decided to retrace your steps, taking a seat on the ground beside the barrack you had abandoned, your back pressed against its wooden surface. On the other side, the cacophony hadn't ceased, only muffled by the wall that separated you from the inside mayhem. Had Jean and Eren opted for a fistfight denouement by now? Would Mikasa intervene?

But before you had enough time to explore the many scenarios your imagination could sketch out, the door beside which you had settled opened abruptly, a wide stream of light flooding the ground at once. In the blink of an eye, a visibly disconcerted figure appeared on the threshold, freezing as they took a look around before rapidly bifurcating to the side in order to follow one of the torchlit paths...

"Jean?"

"Y/n?! What are you doing here?" Jean rushed toward you as soon as he noticed your silhouette from behind the shadows, discovering your hiding-place. "I didn't even see you leave..."

"I'm sorry, I was starting to feel tired." Touched by the fact that Jean had left the room to look for you, you attempted to give him a plausible excuse.

"C'mon, you can get through a day of training, but you can't get through one of the only party nights we're lucky enough to have?" Jean taunted, taking a seat next to you. "What's the matter?" he gently elbowed you, throwing his neck back so he could press his head against the wall behind. "Just when I was about to defeat Eren..."

"Defeat Eren, really? Statistically, it's more likely for Captain Levi to smile than for us to see that happen," you laughed tiredly, trying not to think about how Jean would probably soon get back to Mikasa and the others.

"Yeah, yeah, tease me all you want, it'll happen. Someday this idiot will get his ass handed to him."

Closing your eyes, you only had it in you to maintain the forced smile painted over your lips while fighting back the rush of stinging tears that suddenly overwhelmed you. Why did Jean had to come and check up on you now of all times, right when you were more than ever convinced that you were starting to fall for him, and it couldn't be clearer that his every move longed for someone else?

"You know, I was going to get him, but Mikasa can get scary..." It was as if he could decipher the riddles of your mind, unaware of the way your heart convulsed. "I wouldn't want to cross her. Why would she hang out with this idi—"

"Look, Jean, if you've come here to rant about this, then you can leave," you ended up snapping, biting back more acre words . "I'm tired, okay? Just get back to the fun inside."

"You... You don't feel like talking?" Jean's voice softened from incomprehension, trying to read your tone. "I'm sorry, I didn't know it was that bad. Hey, you really don't want to talk?"

You shook your head in response, scolding your own self for such pathetic behaviour. Jean couldn't possibly know about your suppressed feelings, so your attitude must indeed appear more than confusing, especially since you were so used to confiding in each other and cheering each other up, for the past weeks more than ever. In the wake of Icarus's ascend towards the sun, untethered and naive, your wings of wax were melting... But who could've predicted, as much as a month earlier, that the loveable idiot by your side would doom you to downfall?

"Okay... Well...," the young man ran a distracted hand through his hair, frowning as his jaw clenched. "Then I'll talk. You know, I had an idea for tonight," he began after collecting his thoughts, breaking through the hesitant seconds that had temporarily numbed his tongue. "It was our first successful expedition after that near-death experience after all, so I thought I'd better make the most of it and make tonight's celebration useful. Who knows when we'll get another one. Maybe you're right and it's actually more likely to see Captain Levi smile than to get another one of these again soon." Jean's speech ran freely now, his torrent of sentences—for the moment still not making clear sense as to where they were headed to—submerging you in the familiar flow of his voice. As of late, your greatest fear had become to miss its distress call in the ranging mist of a battle, to watch Jean's body be torn to shreds as you could only scream until everything else vanished... "So I thought I'd be brave, for once." He took a deep breath in, fingers nervously wrapped around the back of his own neck. "There's this person I like."

There it was. Somehow, you knew that it would be coming—after the stunt he pulled earlier with Eren...

"They're much braver than I am, but they probably know that already," Jean went on, chuckling self-depreciatingly—he knew he could poke at himself in your company without being ashamed of disclosing his flaws. "They wouldn't hesitate to come and rescue me, even if I were grabbed by a titan. And they're really beautiful, too—"

"Look, Jean, if you've come to talk about Mikasa, just save it," you could only murmur. "Pl—"

"And, quite surprisingly, they're also a dumbass!" Jean didn't let you finish either, shifting his head so he could see your face better. "But that's something both of us have in common." Taken aback by such a strange confession, you opened your eyes to take an intrigued look at Jean while hoping that he wouldn't notice the tears you had at last blinked away. You met his gaze head-on, even among the shadows that coiled over his face. "Because they think that I still have a thing for a girl I liked for two weeks, while I've been talking about them all along."

"What—"

"You know, you're the one who makes being called "horse-face" the funniest," Jean cracked an unsure smile at you, fiddling with his hands. "Alright, it's the bravest I'll ever be, so time to crawl in a hole and die now," he immediately added more anxiously, looking like the unexpected nature of his confession had stricken him for the first time.

"Wait, Jean, no!" It was as if, for the first time in a span of unending minutes, you could breathe again. "Wait, is this... Is this for real?" You asked in what came out almost a whisper, fearing, in this instant where your hopes balanced on the edge of a precipice of churning doubt and elation, that this was a joke you would not be able to forgive. Jean was better than this, but what if?—the thought drilled into your heart.

"Well... Yes. I'm sorry if I've made things awkward, it's Armin who told you might like me too and—"

"Hey, hey," your hand found its way to Jean's arm in a comforting touch, preventing him from leaving as he made a move to flee after blurting out an apology. Judging by your frantic heartbeat, there was no way you could be the calmer person in this situation—and yet, Jean somehow managed to look even more distressed than you at the moment. "I do like you." It was your turn to get embarrassed, which your flushed cheeks openly betrayed, illuminated by the nearby torch's flitting flame. "But Mikasa...?"

"Y/n, I haven't liked Mikasa for longer than a few weeks. I mean, yes, she's beautiful and strong, but so are you. And you're so much more than that. You're so fun to be around, I haven't laughed so hard with anyone but you. Unlike me, you're not scared to be brave and kind, but with you, I don't need to think which face I need to put on, because I know we don't have to pretend to be someone we're not when we're around each other. And when you got injured... I couldn't stand the thought of losing you. I made myself a promise then that I would tell you, and tonight seemed like the right time. I've been talking to Armin after the expedition and I think he kind of guessed that I liked you, and that you liked me too—I don't even know how or why, but he told me he thought you did. That's not exactly how I thought it'd go but... Trying to get your attention by getting in a fight with Eren wasn't that good of a plan, I guess."

"So that's what it was...! You really are an idiot, Jean Kirschtein," you declared vivaciously, but the moved smile that brightened your face spoke louder than the fond insults Jean and you would fire at each other. "We need to watch out for Armin, he will uncover everyone's secrets, at this rate..." You joked before regaining a more serious attitude, your emotions truly swayed by your friend's avowal. "The expedition changed everything for me too. I realised that I didn't want to go without you. No, I realised that I didn't want to go at all—I wanted to stay. With you."

"Pff, get in line," Jean grinned in spite of the emotional look on his face, sighing in relief. "I've been liking you for months."

"Seriously?"

"Absolutely. Do you think I go out of my way to check up on everyone after a battle or that everyone's mom gets the privilege of being the centre of my skilfully crafted jokes?"

"Shut up," you laughed wholeheartedly, your shoulder against Jean's. "Your mom's a hoe."

"Very clever," he teased you in return, face glowing from a joy even more vivd than the fiery sparks that chased the night's spectres away. “I bang yours every night.”

You burst out laughing, rolling your eyes—mom jokes were a must in your goofy friendship. A friendship that, with a bit of unpredicted luck, was on the verge of becoming something more.

#jean kirschtien #jean kirschtein x reader #jean kirschtein imagines #attack on titan fanfiction #attack on titan x reader #snk x reader #snk imagines #writing #snk fanficition

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blessedarethebinarybreakers · 3 years

Note

Answer asap (I feel bad saying that, but I'm stuck). Do you have any resources for dating/not dating non-christians? A dear friend of mine told me they care for me, and I feel the same for them, but... all the resources online warn again and again not to date non-christians lest they endanger my faith. I feel like going forward with this would be ignorant at best and would set us both up for heartbreak. And I fear my fear itself would lead to me trying to convert them. But I still care for them.

Hey, anon! Thanks for reaching out -- the rhetoric among many Christians against interfaith relationships, particularly with the argument that they’re “unequally yoked,” is something I haven’t addressed in years, and have been meaning to discuss again.

Little disclaimer at the start that this stuff is so contextual, and it’s personal -- I don’t know your life as well as you do, or this friend of yours like you do. Maybe what i say doesn’t fit you and your situation.

_____________

To begin, I firmly believe that interfaith relationships can be and often are truly beautiful, holy partnerships. (This includes relationships in which one or multiple members identifies as an atheist / otherwise doesn’t ascribe to a particular religion.)

When both (or all) members are respectful of one another’s beliefs, and find as much joy in learning as in teaching their partner(s), their unique perspectives can deeply enrich one another. You can bear good fruit together that glorifies God and nourishes others.

This being said, you definitely want to at least begin working through your worries and fears before starting to date this person. If you enter the relationship overwhelmed with fear or guilt about dating them, it’ll bring a lot of resentment and angst. The rest of this post points out things you’ll want to reflect on and read up on before entering this or any interfaith relationship -- and offers resources that can help.

_________

Interfaith Partners: Always “Unequally Yoked”?

I’m sure you’ve seen a certain phrase on those websites you mentioned, drawn from 2 Corinthians 6:14 -- “unequally yoked.” I’m going to end this post with some alternative ways of interpreting this verse, but what Christians who advise against interfaith relationships take it to mean is something like this:

Just as two animals yoked to the same plow should be of equal strength and on the same page so that one doesn’t do more of the work, or get tugged away from the work by the other one, two partners should also be of equal “spiritual” strength and on the same page when it comes to their faith...

And of course, these people will say, a person who is Christian is definitely spiritually stronger than any non-Christian -- and a non-Christian might just pull them away from The Way, getting them to skip church or prayers or even stop being Christian entirely.

But there are a lot of assumptions there that don’t hold true in every relationship, right? First off, who says every Christian is necessarily “spiritually stronger” than every non-Christian? To claim that is to assume that non-Christians don’t also have access to spirituality or to the Divine -- which I’m going to push against throughout this post.

Furthermore, the assumption that a non-Christian partner will definitely harm your own Christian faith doesn’t have to be true, as I’ll get to in a second.

So yeah, keeping these assumptions about an interfaith relationship being inherently “unequally yoked” in mind, and with a plan on returning to this phrase at the end, let’s move on to specific things you should think about before entering an interfaith relationship.

______________

Must a non-Christian partner “endanger” your faith -- or can they enrich it?

If being open to learning about how our fellow human beings perceive the world, humanity, and the divine “endangers one’s faith,” perhaps that kind of faith was not made to last. Perhaps it has to give way in order to birth a new, deeper faith -- a faith that is bold enough to wrestle with God as Jacob did; broad enough to survive questions and doubts and times of grief; and wise enough to perceive the Spirit blowing wherever She will (John 3:8), not only among Christians.

If your partner truly respects you and your faith even if it’s different from theirs, they’ll do what they can to help you be the best Christian you can be -- or at the very least, they will give you the space and time you need to go to church, pray, etc. And you will do the same, helping them to be the best Muslim, Buddhist, or simply person they can be.

I highly recommend asking this friend of yours before you start dating what their thoughts are on your being a Christian, and/or on Christianity in general.

Is it something that makes them happy for you? is it something that makes them deeply uncomfortable? or something that they don’t have strong feelings one way or the other on? .

How “involved” would they be open to being in your faith? Would they be interested in going to church with you, as long as they could trust you weren’t trying to force them into anything? Would they enjoy talking about your varying beliefs together and how they impact your lives? Or would they never ever want you to bring up Christianity (which I imagine for you would be a deal breaker)? .

Be open and honest with one another about what expectations you each have about things like boundaries around discussing faith, about time and space you each want for practicing your faith, etc. As you seem aware, it’s better to get all this clear before you start dating, to avoid problems later down the road!

For an example of what such discussions might look like, I found this story from Robert Repta, a Christian man married to a Jewish man. Their union, he says, has included working out what it means not only to be gay persons of faith, but also persons of two different faiths:

“Ultimately, what happened was that in our struggles to find ourselves, we ended up growing closer together. We both supported and challenged each other. We began asking each other bigger life questions and talking about religion, God, science. Both of our lives were evolving, and what started to happen was that we started seeing the similarities in our core beliefs more than the differences. Some of those beliefs even evolved along the way.

We both believed in God. We both believed that God is love. We volunteered together. He would occasionally come with me to church, and I would occasionally go with him to the synagogue. Eventually, I could see that the common thread between us was unconditional love. The same unconditional love of God.”

_____________

On pressuring a non-Christian partner to convert -- assumptions about Christian superiority & fearing for their afterlife destination

It’s really good you recognize that it might end up being hard for you not to try to get this person to convert! Before dating them, you should keep reflecting on this and decide whether that’s something you can let go of or not. If it’s not, then you’re probably right in thinking this relationship won’t work out.

It would be highly disrespectful to this person you care about to pressure them to become a Christian in order for you to feel okay about being with them. (And for more thoughts on how evangelism and conversion as carried out by many Christians isn’t what Jesus had in mind, see this post.) Doing so would imply a lot of things, including that you don’t think they’re a worthy or equal partner unless they make this big change, that whatever beliefs or ideologies they currently hold are inferior to yours, etc.

In order for your interfaith relationship to go well, you would need to come to understand non-Christians as being equally made in God’s image, equally worthy of dignity, equally capable of doing good in the world. You’d have to come to believe that there is much of value within their own religion / ideology that you as a Christian could learn from.

Let’s bring in our lovely Christian/Jewish couple from before: as his relationship with David developed, Robert discovered that

“God is not conformed to this world we live in; God does not belong solely to the Pentecostals or the Baptists, to the Jews or Gentiles, to Muslims or Zoroastrians. Two of the most profound self-identifiers God calls himself in the Bible is “love” and “I am.””

Here are a few resources that can help you explore the idea that other religions are as valid as Christianity and also have much wisdom to bring to the world:

I highly recommend you check out the book Holy Envy by Barbara Brown Taylor to help you explore how you can be a devout Christian and learn from and form mutual relationships with persons who are not Christian. You can check out passages from the book in my tag here. .

You might also like my two podcast episodes on interfaith relationships (in general, not romantic ones, but the same material applies) -- episode 30, “No One Owns God: Readying yourself for respectful interfaith encounters” and episode 31, “It's good to have wings, but you have to have roots too": Cultivating your faith while embracing religious pluralism.” You can find links to both episodes as well as their transcripts over on this webpage. .

There might also be some helpful stuff in my #interfaith tag or #other faiths tag if you wander around. .

Simply getting to know whatever religion this friend does belong to (or what ideologies and value systems they maintain if they’re atheist / non-religious) can also be super helpful. Ask them what resources they can think of that can help get to know their religion as they experience it. Attend worship service (virtually works!), seek out folks on social media who share their religion, etc. I bet you’ll find a lot that you have in common -- and hopefully you’ll find some of the differences thought-provoking and enriching to your own understandings of Divinity!

I’m guessing a lot of your worry stems from the assumption that non-Christians don’t go to heaven. If you believe that not being a Christian leads to hell after death, it’s very hard to view non-Christians and their beliefs as equal to your own!

That Holy Envy book discusses this genuine fear many Christians have on behalf of non-Christians, and how to let it go. .

Here’s a post with links to other posts describing the belief that many faithful and serious Christians hold that non-Christians don’t all get whisked to hell. .

And a post on the harm done by fearmongering about hell. .

Finally, a little more on the academic side but if you’re interested in some history behind Christian views of hell that can help you see that there really is no one “true” belief here, check out the links in this post.

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Reinterpreting “unequally yoked”

I said we’d get back to this, and here we are! While the easiest to find interpretation of 2 Corinthians 6:14′s “Do not be unequally yoked together with unbelievers” is that it argues against interfaith marriage, there are other ways to read this text.

I adore this article I found on the passage from a Christian minister who is married to a Hindu monk -- “Unequally Yoked”: How Christians Get Interfaith Marriage Wrong.” Incredibly, Rev. J. Dana Trent writes that when she and her now-husband dug into 2 Corinthians 6:14 to see what it was all about, she found that

“An ancient scripture meant to deter us from getting involved with each other actually brought us together. Our core beliefs in God became the focus of our study and relationship, not the issues that divided us.”

She also explains that biblical scholars say this verse isn’t even specifically about interfaith marriage -- which becomes clear when you read the full chapter surrounding it! It’s more general -- about the hazards of “working with” an unbeliever.

And what exactly is an unbeliever? Paul and other “believers” of these very early days of Christianity had a different definition than we might today -- an “unbeliever” wasn’t synonymous with “non-Christian,” because Christianity hadn’t even solidified into an actual religion yet! Instead, a nonbeliever was "anyone exposed to but was not faithful to Christ’s teachings—someone not characterized by devotion, love, peace, mercy, and forgiveness.”

In other words, if a person in those early days was told about the good news of Jesus that entailed things like liberation of the oppressed and love of neighbor, they didn’t have to “become a Christian” to accept that good news. And thus, Rev. Trent continues,

“Today, my husband’s deep Hindu faith has taught me to dig deeper into what Jesus would have me do. Perhaps Paul might have even considered me an “unbeliever,” as I claimed to be a baptized Christian, but my life did not inwardly and outwardly reflect the Gospel. Since marrying Fred, I re-attuned my life to Christian spiritual practices: spending more time in contemplative prayer, practicing non-violence through a vegetarian diet, limiting my consumption, and increasing my service to others.

Much to many Christians’ dismay, it took a person of another faith—a seemingly “unequally yoked” partner, to strengthen my Christian walk.”

Isn’t it beautiful to hear how this relationship between a Christian minister and Hindu monk has born good fruit for both of them? They help one another become the best Christian and best Hindu they can be, respectively. They are both so deeply committed to faith -- that doesn’t sound like an “unequal yoking” to me.

______

Whew, this got long! But it’s a big topic, and one I hope you’ll take the time to explore. Bring God into it; bring your friend into as much as they’re comfortable. And feel free to come back and ask me more questions as you go.

If anyone knows of other articles or other resources that explore the good fruit that can come from an interfaith partnership, please share!

#interfaith relationships #unequally yoked #progressive christians #interfaith dating #Anonymous #relationship tag

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munku-collar · 3 years

Note

I would very much appreciate an analysis of the reasoning and song placements for you Macavity playlist whenever you get the opportunity.

- Signed, a big fat music nerd

Putting this guy under a cut cuz it'll be long! I'm just going brief with these but if there's one in particular you want a deeper look at I can def do that. Also I didn't proofread this before posting so i'm sorry for any typos ksjdbgksbdg

Dead Souls- It's a combination of the title and sound for this one. It kind of encapsulates that cool guy vibe that he was born with, that Tugger was born with too. Kind of slow, steady and strong. It covers his general essence, the sort of beat of his heart if you will, and then the lyrics speak to his loneliness as a child and the allure of giving into his worst impulses. He's just lost, looking for support which he unfortunately doesn't find.

How Soon Is Now?- Same idea here. He's left the tribe, he's on his own and every bit of positivity has disappeared. He's hopeless and tired of feeling "other" and not getting what he feels he deserves from those around him so focuses on building an empire instead, exploring crime and taking what he wants, because it won't be given to him. Essentially, he's tired of waiting and tired of trying to make things work at home. "I've already waited too long," if you catch my drift. And "I am human and I need to be loved," is self explanatory: All he wanted was to be accepted for who he was, and that wasn't happening, so he left.

Hungry Like The Wolf- He's hungry. He's hungry for power, for fame, and unbeknownst to him until he lays eyes on Demeter, love. He's ignored that bit for a while now and focused on taking things to fill the void instead, but when he meets her he's just blindsided with this desperation to have her. He's determined, and at this point he is quite a hunter. He knows how to read people, how to break them apart, to get what he wants. She doesn't make it easy. Honestly she makes it a little hard for him to think straight, and always does. He feels like a beast chasing after her, and luckily for him, he catches her.

Candyman- Demeter has fallen for his charms and for the bits of him that are still, whether he admits it or not, Jellicle. She's intrigued by him and has no idea of what she's going to endure by letting herself fall into his arms. And he has no intention of hurting her, never does, but to any bystander it's clear that he's dangerous, and that things won't end well. He can't help his nature, and she can't change it.

Don't Fear The Reaper- Whether he admits it or not, he's a reaper, and she starts to understand that, at least a little, but it doesn't bother her. They come to know each other better, shared their experiences and pain and believe they're a true match. They've been hurt and lonely and turn from strangers to "us against the world," or and naively think that they'll always be together. He hasn't fallen yet, but he will.

The Same Deep Water As You- He is at his core, really a sad figure. He thought Demeter would fill the void, and she does fill some of it, but not all, and in the quiet hours of the night between heists and fights and celebrations of his power, he crumbles in her arms and clings to her. But they're both starting to realize that maybe it's not for the best. Maybe they're not what each other really needs, and he hates that idea. It's her, or nothing, he thinks. He'll be damned if he lets her go.

The Killing Moon- This is really the shift. He's killed others now, and finds more joy in violence than anything, excepting Demeter's company. It's a kind of latent realization on Demeter's part of what she's gotten herself into, and how nothing she could have done would've let her avoid any of this. She's disgusted, and somewhat terrified, but knows that he won't let her go, and she still loves him despite it all. It's a cruel twist of fate. He's determined to keep her, reminiscing on their meeting and how he fell in love with her. Honestly the memory of it is sweeter than being with her now, and it's killing them both.

The Promise- She keeps distancing herself from him, and he keeps trying to get closer. He's given her so many promises, but at this point, they don't matter anymore. It's really upsetting, to see what they've become, and part of him knows it's his fault. He feels guilty for it, but he can't stop doing what he does, because he doesn't know how. Who is he without power, without bending others to heel? A scared, damaged tom, and that's worse than anything. He can't face his own reflection in the mirror, and that's his, and their, downfall.

Monsters- He's angry at her, she's angry at him, though they won't show it to each other. But he's not an idiot. He can see how her soft gazes have turned hard, how she doesn't lean into his touch anymore, and she watches him grow more violent day by day, until he well and truly is a monster. His frustration at her turns into frustration at everyone else, and finding new ways to be cruel to his enemies, and even his subordinates, is the only way he can redirect the pain it's causing him. But they're still hanging on by a thread. She's too scared to leave, and he's scared of her leaving. But there's no saving it, even if she cares about him and always will.

Vantablack- His romantic gestures used to delight her, comfort her, but now any attempt from him just makes her feel dread. It absolutely ruins him that she's not comfortable with him anymore, and when he tries to make things like they were, it's useless. He's let too much darkness consume him, and he can't hold on to her anymore. It makes him insanely angry, and he lashes out at others twice as hard as a result. He blames her for it all too, when she runs away, and leaves him all alone.

Not Just A Name- He really thought she was his match, that she was the one cat who understood him and wouldn't let him down. She made him believe that things could be good, that he could find happiness, but he didn't realize just how much of himself he would have to change for that to happen. He refused to change, couldn't bring himself to, and instead surrendered to his worst impulses, and now she's run from him. He wasn't who she thought he was, and she clearly didn't know him as well as he thought she did, and quite frankly, he's just hurt. (Even if it was all his fault, he doesn't see it that way.) "Made me someone I wasn't, it's not just a name." He didn't, and can't, meet her expectations, or be what she needs, and that might be the only thing he's ever experienced that really breaks his heart. And she won't ever give him another chance.

The Less I Know The Better- He tells himself he doesn't need her, that he doesn't want her back. He tells himself he couldn't care less if she rots out there on the streets without him, but really, he still cares. He still wants her. He's haunted by her absence, and wants nothing more than her at his side again. She really was the last tie to his humanity, his morality, and he's lost without her. He'll beg for her, if he has to. He needs her back, but she's moved on, and ironically, was pushed into his brother's arms.

Loner- He constantly flips between thinking of stealing Demeter back or burning everything to the ground. He steals and fights and commits crimes just because he can, just because there's nothing else to do, or feel, without her. He's entirely closed off. When she was there, one of his henchcats could sometimes ask him questions or have somewhat easy conversation with him, but nowadays that's an impossibility. He has completely put on a mask and only barks out orders, reprimands, or toys with others to pass the time. He's just this angry, lonely figure. He hardly feels like a person at this point. Without Demeter, he has no direction, and no connections.

Gimme Shelter- The more time passes, and the more he realizes he can't get Demeter back, the worse he gets. He's intentionally nefarious at this point, and hateful. He resents her too, even though he still loves her. If he ever gets his paws on her, he isn't sure if he'll caress her or choke her. It's a bitter, cruel world, he has remembered, and the only way to survive it is to be crueler than everyone else around you.

I'm So Afraid- He truly feels as if he's been alone his entire life, and loneliness is the root of his problems. He felt lonely and misunderstood as a child, driven away. He feels lonely without Demeter, without her love. Really, if he tried hard enough, he could come back from his darkness, maybe try to find a new life, repent for his mistakes, but he's too scared. He's afraid of losing himself, knows he already has, honestly, and there's nothing to do about it. Macavity is big and strong and clever and intelligent but underneath all that he's always just been terrified of emotions, of abandonment, and of himself, and whatever bits of him that are Jellicle, burried deep down, are disappointed, and it kills him. He hates that he still has those feelings, and wants to drown them, or lock them away forever. He'd rather feel emptiness than any of this anymore.

Lord Of This World- At this point his name is beyond infamous. No one remembers the more tender parts of him, and no one relates to him. He's been branded a villain, by everyone, and so assumes the role with a sick sense of pride. He knows he's not to blame for how he is, no matter what the others say, and won't let them judge him. He's in charge. He is a stronger, better leader than his old tribe could ever have, and this is his world. He bears that burden alone, but believes it was always his to bear, just like it was his burden to fall in love with Demeter and endure so much suffering for her kiss on his lips.

Double Dare- He invites his old tribe and in fact everyone around him to self reflect. They're not blameless, they're not better than him, and they're not as strong as him. They haven't survived what he has, haven't built something from nothing, haven't overcome his odds. He thinks everyone around him is weak, even Demeter, for not sticking by him He's angry at her for being with the Jellicles, and believes they've killed the stronger bits in her, the twinge of darkness that she also had, and allowed them to be miserable together. He won't be fooled, won't be changed, even at the cost of her, now. Either she'll be brave enough to come back to him, like he believes she should, because she was made for him, or he is truly the only brave cat in the world. And if that's the case? Then so be it.

-------

So yeah. This man is fucking delusional. Yes, he had a rough start to life, but it was his own arrogance and fear that prevented him from becoming a better person or adjusting. He turned to dark coping mechanisms instead, and ended up ruining the only positive relationship he's ever formed for the sake of remaining comfortable. If he wasn't so frightened of judgment and change, things could have gone very differently. But nope. Now he's hated by everyone, including the object of his affections, and he'll be sitting alone atop the cold throne he built for the rest of his life. He's really just driven by impulse and desire, despite his masterful approach to crime. It's an interesting juxtaposition. Someone so powerful and intelligent is really just constantly pushed and pulled by his emotions. He's one second from spiraling out of control at all times, and that's what makes him really dangerous more than anything.

#my shit #asks #macavity #demecavity #cats 1998 #cats the musical #demeter #cats demeter #demeter cats #macavity the mystery cat

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need-a-fugue · 3 years

Text

Trustworthy (Chapter 6)

Summary: You’ve spent the last three years teaming up with Santiago Garcia on every mission you had a hand in coordinating… and the past several months plotting with him to take down the biggest bad to hit your radar. But even all your time at the DEA and all your experience in the field couldn’t have prepared you for this.

Pairing: Frankie “Catfish” Morales x Fem!Reader (slow burn)

Warnings: language and just plain being miserable

It’s cold and wet and fucking miserable.

Your day so far… wake at the ass crack of dawn to a jerking, sputtering, clearly about to go down helicopter. Get – essentially – tossed from said helicopter into the midst of a bunch coca farmers out in an Andean valley. Become an accomplice in the unwarranted deaths of a few said coca farmers. Mill about the tiny community – wary eyes watching your every movement – as Santiago trades money for those lives… and for a handful of donkeys. Or mules, or whatever the fuck they are. Load up said donkeys with millions of dollars – certainly the type of cargo these poor animals are used to carrying – and head off into the jungle. With a sprained ankle. And a probable concussion. And – you realize just as that familiar ache begins to set into your hip – a shit ton of rain headed your way.

You’d lost track of how far precisely you’d gone, how many miles you’d traversed through this treacherous environment. And you refuse to ask, afraid that it’ll be just a fraction of how far you feel it’s been. By the time the sun descends and everyone hunkers down beneath a cluster of heavily rooted trees – just enough of an overhang to provide a bit of shelter from the once-again assaulting rain – it feels like you’ve all piled four damn marathons one on top of the other. But looking around at the thick foliage around you, noting the relatively small trail tamped down by your group as you climbed and trampled and fought your way up and out of that valley, it’s very clearly been closer to the length of a 5K fun run. Minus the fun. And the free T-shirt.

You let out a ragged, rather dramatic harrumph, the sheer annoyance at your predicament currently outweighing any fear or discomfort. But the discomfort is there none the less, every single nerve ending either on fire or vibrating from the utterly depleting fatigue that this day has caused.

Benny scoots closer to your side, tucking you back behind his shoulder just as you let loose with another full-body tremble. The action pins you even tighter to the wall of roots and mud and bark behind you, and to Frankie, who flanks your right side. “This fucking sucks,” you mutter, the final word coming out in an odd shuddering trill as the chill works its way out of your body.

“Yeah,” Ben breathes out with a soft chuckle before leaning back with an exhausted sigh. “Well, we’re dancing with the devil now.”

“Dancing?” Frankie returns, causing your tired gaze to swivel his way. “We were dancing when we got on the plane to come down here. I’d call this full intercourse.”

You all release a threadbare laugh, little more than a trickle of amused breaths being about all anyone has the energy to emit. Your arms wraps tighter around your core as you tuck yourself a bit deeper into Benny’s side, your eyes still trained on the man to your right. “Let’s just pray this is a one-night stand,” you smart, lips pulling into a sly smile the moment Frankie turns your way.

It takes a moment for his face to falter, the pained set to his features slowly melting into something just a little bit more relaxed as he snorts out an amused breath of his own. He gazes down at you, watches as you lean further back, burrowing even more into Ben’s warmth. He stares deeply, his dark brown eyes cutting through the onslaught of rain that continuously dribbles from the brim of his hat. “How’s your ankle?” he says finally. And the question catches you entirely off-guard. Not because it’s so strange or unwarranted, but because you’re certain that whatever thoughts and questions were just tumbling through his head, that rather benign inquiry wasn’t among of them.

You offer a small shrug. “S’fine,” you lie, biting the corner of your lip as the twisted appendage continues to throb. “Not like I got shot or anything,” you say as you lean forward and peer around Benny, trying to catch a glimpse of Will through the heavy rain and dark surroundings. “How ‘bout you, Ironmaiden? You still with us?”

You hear a short snicker from the man – and from Ben too – just before a deep rumble of, “Not dead yet,” cuts through the impending night. His face remains hidden in the dark, but you’re convinced that a hint of a smile flitted over it at the very least, and that’s enough to make you feel like a good deed’s been done.

But when you look back at Frankie, his shoulders heavily slumped as he leans away from the relative shelter of the trees, out into the pounding rain, you feel that tiniest hit of triumph swiftly uncoil and fade away. “Hey,” you bark out at him, nudging him with your foot as you lean back once more. “You’re gonna freeze out there.”

His lips tug up at the corners, but the small, closed-mouth smile never reaches his eyes. He makes no move to duck back beneath the leafy canopy, instead turning away and letting out a long, deep sigh. You nudge him again, saying nothing, but raising a questioning brow when his gaze connects with yours. “Pretty fucked up,” he mutters blandly before dropping his head again to stare down at the wet earth beneath his boots.

“Yeah,” Ben agrees beside you. “Pretty fucked up.” He uses his shoulder to jostle you a bit, get you to sit up and turn towards him. He holds up a giant, ripe mango, giving a little nod in place of an order to take it.

“Thanks,” you say, plucking it from his grasp. He merely nods again, this time a silent no problem, before shifting to present another to his brother. You look back at Frankie, his broad shoulders still slumped, now thoroughly soaked as well. “Hey,” you begin, the word coming out more as a pained grunt as you reposition yourself and fold the twisted ankle up beneath you.

His eyes fly up, wide and worried at the hurt in your voice. But the last you thing you want is for him to feel even worse than he obviously does right now. So again, you brush off the pain, shaking your head and rolling your eyes at the unasked are you okay? emanating from his stare.

“A little help?” you ask, holding the mango out to him. He reaches for it with a look of confusion. “My hands are so cold, fingers are numb,” you state with a shrug just before leaning forward and capturing his arm. Before he has the chance to even register what you’re doing, you’ve already wrapped yourself around him, tugging him with the only remaining energy that you have back beneath the tree’s canopy.

He lets out a little groan in protest, but appeases you all the same, scooting back until he’s flush with the wall of roots behind you. “You could just bite into it,” he mumbles as he settles back and uses his thumbs to break into the fruit.

“Mmm,” you hum out, no real response at all. His left arm is still held tight in your grasp, your cold – though not actually entirely numb as you had led him to believe – fingers pressing into his bicep, gliding along the soaked-through fabric of his windbreaker. You scoot closer to his side, still feeling Benny at your back, but now craving the heat being put off by the man in your hold instead.

“Here,” he breathes out, handing you a mangled chunk of mango.

The smallest titter of a laugh blows past your lips as you accept it and drop your heavy head down to his shoulder. “Don’t you have a knife?” you ask before shoving the food into your mouth.

He stills in your grasp. “Huh,” coming out of him in a surprised sort of grunt. He moves the mutilated, dripping fruit up to his lips, licking at the juice before tearing into a hunk of orange meat with his teeth. He shakes his left arm free from your clutches and deftly wraps it around you to tug you close, all without ever disturbing your cheek’s perch atop his shoulder. His wide open palm slips down to your hip and presses its warmth right over the dull ache of that damn old injury, and the deep tenor of his voice resounds in your ears as he says simply – mouth still full – “didn’t think of that.”

000

The sun rises somewhere around your second or third hour of hiking. You think. The burner phone you’d brought along had long since gone dead, and it’s been ten years or so since you’ve worn an actual watch. But it certainly felt like two to three hours went by from the time Santi roused you from your shivering near-sleep and the ominous birth of a new day.

Thick mist and fog gathers round, clinging to the ground, the trees, obscuring the way and growing heavier the higher into the mountains you climb. You take to doing rollcall every fifteen minutes or so, each calling in turn to the person behind, making sure that no one’s been lost to the surrounding haze.

You lose all sense of time, not even realizing how long it must’ve taken to get to the terrifying and precarious footpath cut into the side of the mountain until you look up to see that the sun is now high in the sky, closer to its journey down than up. The fog had just begun to abate as you all reached the narrow trail, and while that was very clearly a good thing – because if ever there was a time when you needed to see exactly where your feet were stepping, this was it – a part of you cursed the cloud for lifting and allowing an unobscured visual of all that lay below.

You can’t help it. With every step you take, your eyes veer from the placement of your feet along the narrow, rocky trail over to the steep drop off and then out to the endless acreage of mountainside and jungle below. Every step. Every plodding, breathless, horrifying step. And to make matters worse, to ratchet your heartrate and blood pressure just that much higher, the children in front of you have chosen this time to begin petulantly arguing and hurling accusations.

You roll your eyes and try to tune out the thinly veiled allegations and insults being tossed back and forth, each man’s voice carrying a different shade of I’m tired and hurt and hungry and I need a damn nap.

It was really only a matter of time, you figured, before the grumpiness managed to overflow into conflict. That’s just what happens when people – men in particular – go without rest for this long, carrying the burden of survival on their backs for endless hours of drudgery. Sure, you’d hoped it wouldn’t come to this… if anyone could find their way through unparalleled stressors without cracking, it’d surely be a team of elite special ops guys. But, then again, these men were all retired. They had real lives that they’d left just to get sucked into this shit. They had families and jobs and car payments waiting for them back home. And they’d been under the mistaken impression that they’d be able to get back to them all in just a handful of days. A week, max.

Also, one of them had been shot… and everyone else harbored at least some injury from that helicopter crash that you still hadn’t been able to fully mentally process. So, sure, it makes sense that they’d eventually devolve into juvenile bickering. But did they have to do it on the side of a fucking mountain?

You stop short, a small gasp of surprise shooting from your lungs as you nearly faceplant into a donkey’s ass, Will and Ben both having come to a sudden halt in front of you. “The fuck” you nearly shriek, but neither of the men so much as toss a glance your way. You peer around the animal in front of you and glare at Will, tired eyes burning into the side of his skull. “Fucking move!”

He turns then, shooting you a confused look, taken aback, it seems, by your sudden irritation. As though this moment of impatient annoyance should be reserved for just him and his brother. But before you can say another word, before he’s able to come to the obvious realization – that there are other people in this world! – on his own, his stare veers, eyes blowing wide as they lock onto something behind you.

A crunch of rocks, a shuffling sputter of movement, a terrified scream blossoming from the mouth of the donkey in the rear. By the time you’re able to maneuver yourself around to see to what’s happening, all that’s left is a cloud of cash slowly trailing behind the fallen animal, and a stricken Frankie cemented up against the side of the mountain. You catch his horrified gaze, hold it for a moment before finding the words, “Are you okay?”

He gives a weak nod as he pulls himself upright, slowly making his way behind your – now nervous-as-hell – donkey. Ahead of you, the arguing has intensified, though what’s being said, you can’t quite glean. And you don’t honestly care. Frankie pushes past, giving your shoulder a reassuring squeeze on his way, and finally makes it to the front of the group where he directs everyone to keep moving… convinces them, somehow to let go of whatever the hell it is that they’re bitching about.

Had to get all the money…

Fucking Lorea…

Just move, damn it!

That’s about all you manage to get from their conversation. It’s all you care to get. Blame, accusations, words in general, none of that matters right now. Frankly, the sudden loss of a donkey and millions of dollars doesn’t matter to you right now. Nothing matters right now except continuing to put one foot in front of the other for however long you have to do it… however long it takes until you reach a place where you can collapse into the exhausted, pained heap of a being that you are and simply sleep.

Taglist:

@tweedlydumbtweedlydoo @icanbeyourjedi @greeneyedblondie44 @mrscrain-x7 @kyjoraven@elephants-are-a-thing @nakhudanyx @thirsty-flygirl @leannawithacapitala

#frankie morales #frankie catfish morales #francisco morales #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #triple frontier #santiago pope garcia #will ironhead miller #benny miller

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cashewally-sarcastic · 3 years

Text

It is hku’s 6th month anniversary, and it’s been a growing theme (tradition?) that I tend to write essays for said occasion, most of them being jokes. But instead, today I present a different kind of essay, one that isn’t written as a joke for once. This is an essay focusing on the grey morality of hku, and focuses on Siv as the example of said grey morality. Because of this, I do have to warn that there are major story spoilers ahead, so if you haven’t read hku or aren’t caught up to current events, I would recommend not reading this! This essay isn’t going anywhere, and spoiling yourself isn’t a very fun experience!

With that disclaimer out of the way, the essay (as per usual) is under the cut! Enjoy!

~~~

The Grey Morality of HKU

We live in a world that is not purely black and white, but instead many different shades of grey. Writing greyness into stories is difficult, especially when trying to create morally ambiguous characters, which is why most character conflicts in fiction is black and white. Moral greyness in characters is a very thin tightrope to balance on, since such characters fall in between heroes and villains, and bring layers of depth and complexity into the world. Most humans are not purely good or evil, and morally grey characters showcase this well. These characters can be incredibly complicated, and thus, it's difficult for authors to commit and stay on their tightrope. Sometimes they lean too far to one side and their intended moral greyness gets destroyed. But in Hyrule Kingdom Updates, or HKU, Quill not only walks this tightrope with ease, but does backflips on it and performs a whole circus act with their characters mimicking the same routine. One of these talented tightrope-walkers that performs in such a circus act is Asivus Hartell, better known as Siv.

Siv is one of the main examples of the grey morality of HKU. He’s the sarcastic, pessimistic orator that serves as the role of the narrator for the story. Introduced as a psychological egoist, or someone who believes that everyone’s actions are derived out of personal interest, his personality, attitude, and actions all reek of the scent of “villain”. He’s cynical, hates almost everyone in the castle, and is also a criminal. Over time, his egoist beliefs are slowly challenged, and when his ties to the people who challenge his egoist morals are cut, his egoism goes even further downhill, leading him to become a utilitarian existentialist.

Utilitarian existentialism is hard to properly define, as there is no clear-cut definition. It is the combination of two different philosophies, utilitarianism and existentialism. Utilitarianism is the belief that actions are right if they are useful or for the benefit of a majority; if it provides the greatest amount of good for the greatest number of people, it’s the right thing to do. Existentialism is the belief that there are no set morals for life and no specific meaning to life— people are free to create their own meaning and define their own existence. Utilitarian existentialism is the combination of these two beliefs, and Siv falling into this moral belief can lead to its own opportunities, both for the plot and for himself.

Siv, by the dictionary definition, is a villain. One of the core beliefs he holds, mostly thanks to his egoism, is that everyone is a terrible, selfish person except for him and Ganon. This is not only harmful to the rest of the population because of the possibility of the Calamity being revived, but it’s harmful to Siv as well. Thinking everyone is bad except for the entity that’s weaponizing your malice, or manipulating your trauma, is not the most healthy thing. In addition, as the readers, we can see things from multiple perspectives, and therefore know that not everyone is a terrible or selfish person. By seeing these multiple perspectives and knowing these things, we root against Siv and his goal of resurrecting the Calamity, for his view of the world and the people in it is flawed. Siv succeeding in his objective wouldn’t be good for anyone, including himself. If this was Siv’s only belief, it would be more of a clear-cut black and white story, and Siv would just be a villain. However, that is not the case.

The other core belief Siv believes is one that Astor leads him to: Getting rid of all the terrible, selfish people in the world is the morally correct thing to do, as the kingdom would be a better place and he’d finally be happy. “Defeating the evil in the kingdom will make everything end up good” is a mindset that many stereotypical heroes share. This is the belief in the stories of many people’s childhoods, and people root for them because it’s usually correct in the context of said story. There’s nothing fundamentally wrong with Siv’s belief; he does have a point and does deserve to be happy. Furthermore, most of the problem causers in Hyrule would be gone, preventing all the hurt and trauma all the characters have to cope with from happening again. For example, getting rid of Ligero is something the entire reader-base has been cheering for since the old man was first introduced. It would be satisfying to see people such as those face consequences for their actions, and as readers, we like satisfying endings. Unfortunately, the problem is that Siv believes everyone is bad except him and Ganon, so he’d be getting rid of everyone, and effectively resurrecting the Calamity, something that devastated the kingdom and brought a massive amount of death, in the process. Taking that into account, you wouldn’t want Siv to succeed. And as a bonus, killing anyone and everyone he could possibly care about in any capacity would not be good for his already crumbling mental state. All of this creates a mental tug-of-war in the reader’s head, because they're rooting for Siv to succeed but also hoping that Siv will fail. Is he in the right? No, because not everyone is a bad person and killing everyone by raising the Calamity isn't ever the right thing to do. But is he in the wrong? Also no, because utilitarianism isn't inherently bad, neither is existentialism, and the moral principle itself can have good intentions. Quill writes Siv to be a very complex character with no absolute right or wrong mentality. There’s no surface answer to if Siv is correct in his thinking or not, as this moral greyness goes a lot deeper than the surface level you see within the dialogue.

Siv walks upon the same morally grey tightrope that we, the readers, fight ourselves over within our own mental game of tug-of-war. His moral ambiguity is a huge part of his characterization, as well as a major highlight on the plot of HKU as a whole. The picture Quill painted is not only in multiple shades of grey, but also full of color and life. And out of all the shades of grey Quill used in their masterpiece, one of the most interesting shades is Siv. Quill did an excellent job at exploring this moral greyness and it shows well; you can truly see the care that they put into Siv as a character through how he affects the world around him. The kingdom of Hyrule is not made of black and white, but instead, is painted in multiple shades of grey that reflect our own world within itself, since nothing is as simple as it seems.

~~~

Want to read more about Siv’s morals? Quill wrote an in-depth explanation themselves, and does a much better job of explaining it than I do, so I recommend reading it if that peaks your interest! Click HERE to be sent to that post! (also major spoilers, so be warned)

~~~

Now, since you got to the bottom of this post, and because I might be a little too polite, I need to give some thank-yous to a handful of people.

The first thank-you is to Rev (@swordlesbianss) for giving me the push I needed to actually write this thing! You pretty much kept me accountable for getting this done by mentioning your essay (which I look forward to reading when it’s ready, take your time), so thank you, Rev! You definitely got me to actually start writing the original version of this essay, and caused me to write it to where it is now!

The second thank-you is to Aura (@auroraborealis1890) who beta read the first draft of this essay! You made sure it wasn’t completely incomprehensible, thank you so much Aura! By being able to read it at all, you were a huge help to what was essentially a crazy person’s ramblings. You’re a great friend and I’m very grateful you read my first draft of bullshit <3

The third thank-you is a huge one to Bunny (@bunnywabbit229) who polished up this essay! All of the tone, spell checks, and really beautiful analogies were proofread by Bunny, some invented by them! They took a good 5+ hours out of their day and made this little rock of an essay become the shining diamond it is! I could point out so many things that they made better, but I don’t want to gush for too long. Bunny, I know I already told you this but if I could buy you a large brownie pizza, I would because you helped so much and I appreciate it so much!

The final thank-you is to Quill, the author of @hyrule-kingdom-updates, who made the inspiration for this essay. You have made such a wonderful story that’s rich with so many amazing characters and astounding worldbuilding. You made a masterpiece that inspired an essay of over 1000 words and I’m in awe. You truly deserve to know how wonderful your writing is and all the effort you’ve put into your characters and story is not going unnoticed. So thank you so much for putting your story out into the world, Quill.

#hku #hku spoilers #<- got that out of the way now time for the writer's cut in the tags #this was originally going to be an essay about Siv and Larc and how their morality challenges our view of it #Siv is moral. Larc is immoral. You'd expect them to be opposites. But they're not #as time went on Siv slowly started taking over the essay entirely because there's just SO MUCH TO HIM #so the topic shifted into an essay about the moral greyness of hku and used siv as a prime example #it eventually got to this point (which is fortunate because that other essay was going to be even worse that this one)#also the tightrope analogy with a bit of circus theme is half inspired by some google stuff about how hard moral greyness is #and half inspired by the fact that i am a clown honking my little clown nose at 3am trying my best #also another tangent: if you were awake around 1am (est) and you heard me going insane on a google doc #the first draft of this essay was that google doc but i didn't want to say it because what nerd writes essays at 1am #(i am. i am that nerd)#anyways #thank you for reading all of this!#i hope you have a wonderful day/night/whatever time!#<3

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kitkat1003 · 3 years

Text

On the Issue of Mortality

AO3 Link

Chapter 2: Whether weather whether weather, whether you're invulnerable or not!

“Hey, I’ll have you know that I can control my powers now! The only downside is I’m not invincible anymore, sooo I could die.”

“WHAT?!”

Same, Pigsy. Same.

Monkey King doesn’t do much, when it comes to his successor. Not at first.

Sure, he watches the Kid from time to time, just to see what’s going on. Which isn’t creepy, not at all, it’s just...well, how else is he supposed to check on Kid? Besides, he’s not watching him 24/7, and he can tell when the Kid is in trouble now, from the flare of power he feels whenever Kid is using the staff or some other ability.

Sometimes, though, there’s no fight. Like when he lets Mei shoot rockets at him. Comical as it is, he can tell Kid is letting all this power get to his head.

But hey, why not? Kid beat DBK, let him have a little fun. Monkey King isn’t going to knock him for that, not when he did much worse back in his day. Way worse

Yeah...he really had an arc, didn’t he.

He lets it go until he feels a massive flare, one that definitely isn’t controlled. He summons nimbus and heads off, and finds Kid in a crater of his own making, looking lost.

Then, Kid tries to shove the whole “stopping the bad guys” thing onto him, and, like, hello?? He gave Kid the staff for a reason. He’s retired. Totally, definitely retired.

“Every time I try to do something I just gunk everything up! Something’s wrong...” There’s something deeper to those words, more vulnerable and hurt than Monkey King is ready for. He isn’t Kid’s dad.

Wait, does Kid even have a dad? Is that something he needs to be concerned about? Whatever, the Kid’s at least eighteen, he’s an adult. Adults don’t need dads. Monkey King didn’t need one, just look at him. He’s the great Sun Wukong, Great Sage Equal to Heaven, the Monkey King. Who needs parents?

Monkey King gets up, hops on the Kid’s shoulders to get a closer look, as well as groom the kid a little, because his hair is a mess. Humans have all these advancements with soap and showers and they can’t even get their hair clean. Clearly, monkeys have it figured out. Nothing gets someone cleaner than a good grooming. And hey, he finds a little snack in there!

He uses his golden vision of his for a second as he grooms Kid, and, yup.

There’s the problem.

Making the Kid freak out a little is all for fun, but the root of the issue is something Monkey King didn’t want to have to deal with. A general lack of martial arts skill is easy, you just teach them the basics and work from there. What’s wrong with Kid is going to take a lot more work, emotional work, and Monkey King didn’t think he’d have to expend that sort of energy for this.

The issue, of course, is simple. Lack of self confidence.

“I have self confidence!”

“Nope. You’re just loud.” And that’s the thing, Monkey King understands. He was always loud but he was confident not long after. Then again, he got his powers gradually. Poor Kid has them all at once, probably hard to find the confidence for all of that out of nowhere.

Jeez. Why’d he have to pick the Kid with baggage?

Fake it till you make it is what Kid says, and he wants to scream, because that isn’t how it works. If it was, then everyone could use the staff. It takes a specific breed of something that Monkey King knows the Kid has, but isn’t letting out. Self confidence, at its core, comes from a strong foundation. If Kid doesn’t have that, then they have to start from scratch, which takes time.

And he’s not that annoyed, he’s willing to wait, but the Kid isn’t. And, sure, yeah, there’s the thing with Red Son (and holy shit, Red Son? That brat is still around? He’s not using the fire, but still) and the Kid’s friends, but they would be fine! Probably. He doesn’t think they’re that incompetent.

But the Kid isn’t satisfied with that so he insists, and Monkey King pulls out a card he doesn’t want to play.

Control over your powers for the price of invincibility. Seriously, if it were him, he’d never. He likes living, thanks. But then again, this Kid is apparently loyal to a fault, because not two seconds after he gives out the idea the Kid is taking it.

And he’s confident, when he seals away the Kid’s powers, but inside he’s terrified.

Suddenly, this Kid can get hurt, can die. This Kid could get hit by a car or smashed by a demon or fall to a host of any other preventable death scenarios because he’s vulnerable now.

And the thing is, Kid doesn’t seem to care? As if the idea of facing unknown horrors with the added bonus of being able to die is just a regular Tuesday, nothing to worry about. Which, that is so, so weird, and startling and Monkey King is a little proud that he picked a student so selfless, so willing to face mortality for the sake of keeping others safe.

But is it even selflessness or a lack of self worth? A lack of self confidence is bad enough, but he doesn’t even know if Kid thinks he’s got value and that’s far more concerning to him than it ought to be.

He’s also got a lot of anxiety now, because he has to watch this Kid, to make sure he doesn’t die randomly. Great.

He flies the Kid to the weather tower, because time is of the essence, and he watches. Every wrong step the Kid takes, he tenses. Every slip up, as Bull Clones go flying and chase after him, as Red Son rushes him—Sun Wukong clenches his fists and physically stops himself from jumping in. He’s retired. Kid’s gotta learn to clean up his own messes.

Kid is actually pretty good at using the staff to block blows. Offensive fighting with it is slow going, though, and Monkey King files that away for plans of future training. He watches the Kid run towards the control panel and the Bull Clones close in, and, for a split second, he feels a little flare.

Golden vision. It flickers in the Kid’s eyes and he doesn’t know what the Kid sees, but Monkey King is sure it’s enough.

Or maybe not, as the Kid gets dog piled on by Bull Clones, Red Son jumping on top of the pile.

Monkey King holds his breath, wondering if he should step in—because he knows Kid needs to learn but what’s the point of learning if you die in the process—and then.

Then.

He lets out a sigh of relief and heads out as lightning strikes the staff, watching the Kid duck behind the control panel to avoid the shock, the explosion. Smart. He always used brute force. Good to know Kid has a head on those shoulders that have more use than just a battering ram.

He vanishes into the horizon as the skies clear, back to Flowering Fruit Mountain. Once there, he takes a deep breath, eats a few peaches. Lays back on his cloud and grooms a monkey or two to try and destress.

It doesn’t work. Dammit. His successor is mortal and vulnerable. This is going to add, like, 5 times the effort he thought he would have to put into training this kid. He has to be careful. He has to be cautious. He can’t just throw things at the kid and expect him to be fine.

Okay. This is fine. Is it? Maybe. Probably not.

Because if the Kid is going to really take up his mantle, he’s going to have to deal with the enemies that come with it. Which means dangerous demons, creatures Monkey King doesn’t dare name, all sorts of dangers that can easily kill someone, if that someone isn’t invulnerable.

He has to give the Kid space, can’t smother him, doesn’t want to. But how is he supposed to breathe easy when his successor can die any time?

Clones, maybe? But those always come back to mess with him if he keeps them around for too long. And he’s an easily bored guy, his clones need action. He doesn’t think babysitting will make them happy.

Ugh, he needs a nap. If he can even find it in himself to sleep, with all these thoughts and questions.

He’ll figure it out. He always does, in the end.

#lego monkie kid #monkie kid #kitkat1003 #MK #monkey king #sun wukong #monkie kid MK #monkie kid monkey king

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wlw-lovestruck-fiction · 3 years

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Ngl, the Nadia anons and fic have me in a Nadia mood. Can we get a fic where MC and Vivienne aren't dating, but Nadia thought they were and finds out they aren't, so she tries winning over MC, and MC is both wary and slightly charmed, despite the entire Poppy being exasperated, and finally agrees to a date? It could be a follow on from the other fic or it's own thing. (If you receive this ask twice please ignore the 2nd one, tumblr gave a bad request message for the first so idk if you got it)

Pairing with: “Can we have a Nadia stalking mc instead of Vivienne? Getting intrigued by the mc and then wanting her to join her instead“

...

Written by @an-awkward-ghost

“I’m a bit confused.”

The voice is firm, perhaps even a bit harsh, and it has Nadia instantly on edge. Were it not for the small, almost imperceptible hint of playfulness, the blond thief would have already brandished her knife. Instead, she just freezes there, wide eyed, letting the voice wash over her and awaken a torrent of feelings she had buried deep within her. Emotions only brought problems, only made her pick all the wrong options. She couldn’t trust something as fickle as that. She knew that. Well. At least she thought she knew that.

Yet here she is, eagerly spinning around after a moment’s hesitation, seeking the owner of that sweet, sweet, harsh voice.

It had only been a month, but Karina seemed to have changed drastically. Gone was the insecure little girl she had been, wrapped in Vivienne’s shadow. Now she stood strong and unflinching just a few meters away, shoulders thrown back in attempt to look taller, brown eyes calculating Nadia’s every movement like a predator. One wrong move, and it was over.

Nadia didn’t want to underestimate a woman like Karina ever again.

“You said you weren’t after Vivienne anymore… but here you are anyway.” Her eyes flickered up and down, her expression softening with a small, unconcerned smile. It didn’t look cocky, nor did it look happy. It was teasing, meant to irritate Nadia to her very core, but she found she couldn’t quite look at it without feeling butterflies rise. It was unfair. Nadia pursed her lips and looked away, and Karina continued. “What am I supposed to think?”

She felt like she had been put under a microscope, left there to be picked apart by the artist.

“It… was a coincidence?” She finally said, voice surprisingly steady despite the turmoil of emotions she was experiencing.

Karina hummed. “Yeah, I don’t really believe in coincidences and that only leaves me with plenty of creepy alternatives. You might want to explain yourself.”

“I didn’t know you would come here next.” Nadia forced herself to meet her gaze, half-wishing she could just burn the butterflies in her stomach so she could actually concentrate, half-berating herself for not realizing where her true affections laid sooner. “I had planned to stay away from you – that’s why I decided to come here in the first place.”

“Sure. Awfully close to our next target, too. How convenient.”

Frustration could not begin to convey what Nadia was feeling right now. Hot-headed indignation, barely held at bay by the cold, murky feeling of rejection. Her hands closed into fists, then opened, then closed again in quick motions, as if she were trying to grasp her conflicting feelings and bury them even deeper.

“I didn’t even know you had a target here.” She spat at last, scowling. “Look, I won’t get in between your relationship with Vivienne anymore. I won’t even stay here, if it bothers you so much. I could probably pick the next flight to–”

“My relationship?”

“Yes, your– why are you looking at me like that?” It takes a few seconds. Nadia has never had so many conflicting feelings in her entire life. There’s the bubbly, blissful hope that lifts her spirits and spreads over her whole body like a blanket of pure joy, warm and fuzzy, but there’s also the sinking, bitter sensation of a misunderstanding. Of not reading the room correctly, despite that being Nadia’s forte. “You aren’t dating Vivienne.”

Karina’s smile seems a little less detached, bordering on genuine. “It’s true I had some interest in her at the beginning, but I quickly realized a relationship wasn’t the best choice. Hey, maybe we should start a club or something! God knows there’s enough people interested in Vivienne to get plenty of members.”

“Then… but she didn’t– you were jealous!”

“Yeah, I can’t deny that.” A sheepish shrug. “But in my defense, who wouldn’t be?”

Nadia takes a deep breath. “You were jealous.” She repeats, more to herself than to Karina. She’s trying to make this whole situation make sense. “Of Vivienne…? Because I was giving attention to her.”

A light blush that might be Nadia’s imagination appears on Karina’s face. “I think we might be getting off topic here. You, uh, you said you were going to leave?”

“I was, but there’s no way I’m doing that after this revelation.” After a month of aimlessly swimming through the situation, Nadia finally thinks she might have found her footing. She smirks. “You are interested in me.”

Karina looks her up and down again, wary. “Was. You know, before I found out you are an obsessive asshole.”

“Believe me, I’ve learnt my lesson. I’ll respect your boundaries.” She takes a few steps closer. Karina seems rooted in place, body angling towards the end of the alleyway they are in, but making no move to leave. “But I can’t let this chance slip me by.”

“Chance? So because you couldn’t get Vivienne, now you are after me?”

“Ah…” Nadia hesitates, all confidence wavering. The other woman narrows her eyes. “No. No, I…” The words were right there. Somehow, they wouldn’t come out.

“You…?

“It’s just. I didn’t– I…” She lets out a small grunt of frustration. “I wasn’t interested in her. I thought I was. Turns out she wasn’t the one that interested me at all.”

“But then… why did you…” A beat, and Karina’s eyes widen. “You were projecting your feelings onto her.”

“Yes. And now that it’s come out into the open that you are also interested-”

“Was. I was interested. Past tense. Nadia, I’m saying no. Can you respect that, please?”

Nadia pursed her lips, feeling her good mood dissipate. This was what had ruined her chances in the past, her near violent approach. She backed the subject of her interest to a corner where they would have no other choice but to pick her, because the alternative was even worse.

That’s not something she wanted for Karina. Whatever this affection was, it felt far more fragile and precious than any of her other obsessions. Far more real. Worth treasuring. Nadia wasn’t sure she could even call this feeling ‘an obsession’.

She couldn’t force something like this. She didn’t want to.

“I understand.” She said. “And you have every right to say no, but I want you to give me a chance to prove that I’ve changed.” That had been mostly thanks to the sheer number of sleepless nights she had had, just thinking about everything. Her ideology and how it clashed with the Poppy’s, mainly. That was why she had scrapped the video her crew was working on, why she had put on hold the heists they had planned.

She knew she still had a long way to go, but she was willing and raging to go. A change was long overdue.

“Just one chance. I won’t let it go to waste.”

…

“It was creepy enough when it was Vivienne, but I didn’t expect to endure this type of thing again.” Zoe holds up a gift for everyone to see with a small grimace. Jett takes one look at it and whistles in appreciation.

“Those are some quality paints, alright. You’re going to have a field day with those, Kar.”

“Who said I was going to use them?”

“So I can throw them out or-”

“What? No! Zoe, don’t!”

Vivienne smirks from where she is curled up on the couch, amusement crinkling in her eyes. “Now this is a development, thought I can’t say it was unexpected.” The mirth dies down soon enough. To anyone else she’d look composed, detached, but the members of the Poppy know her well enough to detect the hint of worry clouding her expression. “How do you feel about this, Karina? Would you like us to handle it?”

“I can think of a few ways that might be effective.” Leon adds, from the other side of the room, a frown firmly in place.

“She just can’t give up, can she?” Remy huffs. “First Vivienne, now Karina… When do you think you’ll have your turn, Zoe?”

Zoe gives him a dry look. “Never. Not if I can help it. But seriously Kar, what do we do? If I have to see another gift from that woman, I swear-”

“No, no, it’s okay.”

The living room is always alive with noise when the Poppy gathers in it, sharing laughs, the atmosphere light and welcoming. All of that skids to an abrupt stop as soon as Karina has finished talking. Silence reigns so perfectly it becomes deafening, all eyes on her, searching, prodding, as if they were trying to find out when Karina had been replaced by some kind of impostor.

The artist laughs. “Seriously. Just give me at least a week with her. I want to see something.”

“Something?” Nikolai repeats, one of his eyebrows so far up into his hairline Karina is almost expecting it to fall off. “Not that I don’t trust your judgement, but you must remember who we are talking about. One week is plenty of time for her to kill you.”

“One week.” Karina says again, resolute. “That is all I ask.”

The rest of the Poppy sputters in a chaos of half-shouted reasons why this won’t work, and half-muttered inquiries regarding Karina’s sanity. She takes it all in stride, mostly because they aren’t telling her anything new, something she hadn’t considered before making the decision. Curiosity kills the cat, some say, and Karina is definitely curious to see how much Nadia has allegedly changed.

…

“I’m definitely surprised this time.”

Nadia gives her a curious look, her smirk firmly in place. The confidence she exudes is something that had interested Karina from the moment she had first seen the blonde woman, an unhinged storm worth admiring from a distance.

She had certainly mellowed out. There was still a dangerous undertone to her every action, but it was more controlled. Karina wasn’t naive, she knew Nadia could still kill people if she wanted to, probably with no remorse whatsoever, but she had the impression she would at least consider other alternatives before rushing in for the kill. Nadia hadn’t been lying – she had changed.

Or she was a really good actress, but Karina was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt.

“I didn’t think you’d have such a drastic change in just one month.”

Blue eyes shimmer with delight. Nadia practically preens.

“I’m full of surprises. You’d better get used to that.”

“Good! That just means I won’t get bored anytime soon.”

“I’ll ensure you don’t.”

The chill of the night makes for an excellent excuse to get closer, not that Nadia really needs it. She moves closer to her in one smooth movement, but Karina catches the look the blonde woman sends her way, making sure she’s not overstepping any boundaries. It’s a sweet gesture, something she wouldn’t have expected from Nadia in the past.

They’re on top of the Eiffel Tower. Leon is somewhere near, out of sight, and Karina can just imagine him staring at them from wherever he is with a concerned frown, ready to intervene at any sign of trouble. But nothing of the sort happens. Instead, Karina stands there, transfixed by the anecdotes Nadia is telling her, eyes tracking her every movement with a shocked wonder she hadn’t felt before. There had been a spark with Vivienne, all those months ago, when the Poppy had recruited her, but nothing like the emotion she feels now. There’s a raging fire somewhere in her soul she had ignored until now, emboldened by Nadia’s smile, by her touch, by her mere presence.

And when the date comes to an end, and she stands inches away, blue eyes searching hers for permission?

Karina can only nod, eyes fluttering shut as Nadia slips one finger under her chin, directing her face up, expression softening as she leans in.

She feels like she is on cloud nine.

#Anonymous #answered #contination #lovestruck #lovestruck qot #lovestruck mc #lovestruck nadia #nadia x mc #qot mc #qot nadia #fluff #touching thursday

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