#he refuses to hide behind his upbringing | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

featherstorm2004 · 5 months

Text

All For One and the power of context

I tend to drift alongside the BNHA fandom as a somewhat casual enjoyer so I haven't really made much posts about the series even if I do like it. Mostly because the things I want to say have already been stated by someone else so, I never felt a need but with these latest chapters I wanted to mention what I believe is Horikoshi"s biggest strength "context".

What I mean by that is his ability to turn seemingly boring or one note characters into some of the most fascinating by showing how these characters upbringings and living situations made them who they are today. And I believe we can all agree this is shown most strongly with the villains, are most recent example being All For One who has made the transformation from a pure evil one note villain to a complex human being within just a few chapters, even if All For One himself would refuse to admit to such humanity.

This can also be seen with other examples such as Mr Compress, Dabi and Toga with the later being the most demonised by the fandom until recent chapters. But for now I wish to focus on All For One as I find his situation to be the most fascinating because unlike the other villains who desperately want to be seen as human and accepted by the world around them, All For One seems almost afraid to admit his humanity and the cruelty of his circumstances.

Ever since All For One was introduced we have been lead to believe by the narrative and All For One himself that he is simply pure evil, that there is no complex reasoning behind what he dose or why he dose it he was simply "born arrogant". But I don't believe that and I don't think Horikoshi wants you to believe that either, it has been displayed to us multiple times in the series that there is no such thing as people who are born evil. I would argue that nature vs nurture is one of the key themes of BNHA.

One key example of this is Endeavour and Dabi, where in the early arcs of the series we are led to believe Endeavour to be this pure evil abusive monster who tormented his family and whilst he was most certainly an abusive prick, Endeavour can't be simplified so quickly with his atonement arc being a clear sign of that. And then there's Dabi who was hated for not caring about his family or friends because of the way he tried to deflect and hide any emotions that weren't pure anger or disgust, then his complete backstory that wasn't from Endeavour's point of view we see almost immediately after the fire he rushes back home to apologies to his family.

The reason I bring these things up is because it displays seamlessly how the lack of context to Dabi and Endeavour's stories led to them to be demonised and simplified into pure evil characters when that is far from the truth.

And I believe a similar phenomenon has begun to scour with All For One, as with the most recent chapters, where we have been allowed to peel back to mask the demon lord just a little bit to see the real man behind the mask of evil. Now dose this mean I am implying that All For One is simply misunderstood or that he can be redeemed? God no but that's not the point, that''s never been the point.

We aren't meant to like All For One or think that he deserves forgiveness but we are supposed to understand him, to deconstruct the layers of the number one villain and understand how he has gotten to this point. To understand that he was a child born in what was essentially an apocalypse with no parents, no name and no one willing to help him because of his quirk, where him and his brother where hunted by hate groups and the government for simply being born different, where he had to not only find a way for himself to survive but also his sickly twin who couldn't help him much due to his illness.

It is this very important context that allows us to understand how a man like All For One came to be. But we must also understand two very important things and that 1) All For One is a liar and 2) he is very childish. At first I thought it was strange how juvenile he acted during these recent arcs and even stranger when he started de-ageing but now I understand why, because the truth of the situation is that All For One never truly grew up from his days as a young child reading comic books with his brother.

In many ways all of this conflict, pain and destruction is merely an extension of that, he is quite literally a child playing at being the big bad in his favourite story. It also explains why he doesn't understand why his brother wants to stay away from him because it's just a game why are you getting worked up over me breaking a few toys? This also would explain all his tantrums first with All Might and now Hawks because they're ruining his game and his story.

Now that's not to say that I think All For One doesn't understand all the pain he's caused or that what he's doing is wrong. But like early Shigaraki he's distance himself to it, it's a similar phenomenon where people in a video game are more willing to do more messed up stuff like murder or bulling a character because they are distanced from it to a point they feel comfortable acting that way just to see what happens.

That's also why I believe All For One clings to his demon persona so much, because if he is truly a demon if he was simply born evil with no ability to feel love or empathy then that also means that he doesn't have to take accountability for his actions because that was simply how he is.

But it's not just about accountability.

I also think the demon persona is a form of self defence for All For One, a way for him to take back control from a world that denied it to him. Like most victims of trauma he is trying to create a way for him to have agency in a situation he originally had no control in, this can be seen in many children who place themselves in the positions of the hero's in the stories they are exposed to, so they too can feel that sense of power and control in they're own lives.

So, that's simply what All For One did only instead of mimicking the hero he decided to mimic the villain. And I think his reasons for doing so are fascinating, at first he relays to the audience and All Might that it's simply a power thing or his desire to rule the world but it's not that simple.

The real reason is surprisingly more human, All For One wants to be loved, to be relied on and trusted. Essentially, All For One desires a family, a community to call his own after being denied one his entire life and this explains a lot about his earlier actions, hell in one of the first vision's Deku receives about All For One he refers to his minions as his "dear friends" and when he is fighting with All Might one of his biggest grievance is how All Might forced his "dear friends" to go under ground.

He even refers to Aoyama as his nephew and gets him and his family to call him uncle, this man is obsessed with the idea of family. Which in turn explains his absolute rage and hatred to all the barriers of One For All as in his eyes they stole the only family he's had since birth, the only person who loved him unconditionally, until he went too far. It's probably the reason All For One chose to fixate on Tenko so much despite having an army of children who could be his successors as not only did he get his revenge by stealing a family member of one of All For One's holders but he also gets to have a child who appears close enough to him and his brother that he could pretend he is actually family.

However, I don't think All For One can admit this to himself, that he is in fact a human being. A human that desires to be loved and love in return because if he dose admit that to himself then he would shatter and he'd have to face all the emotions and consequences that he's been running from for over a century. It would essentially be an ego death for him as everything he's convinced himself he is and what he was taught to be by the world who fears him would suddenly be a lie and he can't handle that.

So, he lies to himself and to the world desperately trying to convince everyone that he is in fact the demon lord, and not a child who desperately clings to fiction. It's tragic in a way as ultimately I believe Yoichi was correct, if given the right care and upbringing All for one could have been the kindest ability in the world, but alas they were not so lucky.

As, for where his story is going I honestly have no idea, he may be killed, he may De-age into nothingness. But I think it's important to remember this context whenever we discus the story of BNHA with all it's flaws it is ultimately about broken people desperately finding a place in the world.

But that's just my opinion.

#boku no hero academia #bnha 407 #bnha #bnha spoilers #mha #my hero academia #all for one #afo #shigaraki yoichi #bnha meta #character analysis #bnha chapter 408

101 notes · View notes

ivarthebonelessx · 7 months

Text

Ivar Lothbrok or Ivar Ragnarsson or Ivar the Boneless is the fourth son of Ragnar and Aslaug. He has been physically disabled since birth. He has no bones in his legs. His upper body, on the other hand, is athletic and muscular. The disability does not prevent him from learning to fight. He is also highly intelligent and sharp-tongued. Ivar was conceived after Ragnar's return from England. Aslaug warned Ragnar not to sleep with her for three days or she would give birth to a monster. Ragnar did not comply and took her that same night. After a painful birth, Ivar was born with twisted legs. His parents were very afraid for his future, as he would have a hard life. Siggy and Ragnar suggested killing him, but Aslaug refused. One night, Ragnar kidnapped his son to kill him, but he couldn't bring himself to do so and left him helpless. Aslaug found him and took him back to Kattegat. It was there that the child got his name: Ivar. Ragnar also gave him the nickname "the boneless". Ivar is a sadistic, sarcastic, angry, bloodthirsty and violent person. Even as a child, he is cruel and dangerous. When he learns of Siggy's death, he laughs. He literally murders another kid with an axe over a disagreement during a ball game and is no less out of joints than he has grown up. As a child, he is easily angry, arrogant, and selfish, due in part to Aslaug's poor upbringing. He is indifferent when he hears of the murder of the entire Wessex settlement. His ruthless attitude makes him feared by everyone except Björn, Ragnar and Aslaug. His bloodthirsty escapades often teach people not to underestimate him just because he's labeled a cripple. If you think he is inferior to his brothers in any way, he will show you the opposite. He is the best archer and axe thrower of Ragnar's sons, and can at least take on Hvitserk and Sigurd with his sword, even though he can't walk. Although he is a vicious, bloodthirsty conqueror who kills relatives, Ivar's total love and devotion to his parents are both redeeming qualities for him. He admires Ragnar for his great fame and successful raids. He loves his mother deeply, as she was the only person who gave him a lot of attention and love. Ivar always believes that he is doing what he had to do. There is a lot of dissonance between him and others. Many people try to define him by his disability. But that only pushes him further into more extreme positions to prove that's not the case. Then the same people say that he doesn't have to try so hard, which makes him repeat their earlier words. Behind his psychotic rage lies Ivar's desire to have a family of his own. Ivar's love of war is one of his greatest strengths, as it allows him to unleash his wrath on his enemies and gives him the chance to be bigger than Ragnar, which he dreams of. The bloodshed he inflicts shows his love of killing and deeply expresses his violent nature. Ragnar admits that Ivar is the most intelligent of his sons, and therefore the most dangerous and capable. Ragnar also admits that Ivar becomes a great leader if he can channel his anger properly. His sharp and strategic mind is most evident during the two battles of York. Ivar has learned to suppress his constant anger and hide it from those who don't know him well. This behavior makes Ivar highly unpredictable and gives him great inner strength and ruthlessness. Ivar is also a very charismatic and capable manipulator. ( Son of Ragnar and Aslaug, brother of Björn, Hvitserk, Ubbe and Sigurd, King of Norway, headquartered in Kattegat.)

[ - married to my queen @princessoftherus, my beautiful, strong, brave and lovely wife, the woman who I love, adore and respect more than anyone else. Father of Cailan Ivain @falcon-af-lys , Vidar Ragnar @rebelheartedviking Edda Aslaug. @xwarriorxprincess]

#userfakevz #ivar the boneless #Vikings #Wire: ivartheboneless_

122 notes · View notes

irenethewoman · 8 months

Text

Mrs. Shelby - Chapter 7 - Ada

Masterlist Fic Masterlist Join Taglist

Taglist :

@noirrose21-blog

@ell0ra-br3kk3

In June 1919, Birmingham,

Last night, at the end of the street by the bonfire, Thomas and I confessed our secret underground love. But because Thomas and I both had beds that were too small and narrow, we haven't moved in together yet. Thanks to these "hard" conditions, I still get a few good night's sleep occasionally. Nights are disturbed by Tommy, and during the day, he's always calculating…

"Can't you give me a break? I want to live to be a hundred!" Tommy never paid attention to my irritable remarks and continued on his own path.

"What have you been doing all day?"

Polly looked up from the newspaper and glanced at Ada. I yawned behind another newspaper, trying to hide my fatigue. It's all Thomas's fault; I'm so tired…

"Get up!"

Polly suddenly ordered Ada to stand up, waking me from my drowsiness. I looked at Polly circling Ada.

"How long has it been since your last period?"

I continued to listen to their conversation in confusion, and it took me a while to react—Ada was pregnant!

Oh my God! If Tommy finds out, it's going to be a disaster! I can already foresee a "world war" about to erupt in our home. What a troublesome autumn…

I bit my lip, weighing my options, and decided to temporarily stand by Ada's side.

That night, I changed into old clothes that wouldn't make me easily recognizable and followed Polly and Ada to the underground clinic.

Ada must really love that man. Even though she stubbornly tried to hide her fear and unease with smoking and tough talk, she refused to consider an abortion, even though the man had left. She still believed he would come back…

Did she really trust him? Or was she unwilling to admit her inner fears and misjudgments?

I had told Tommy at Martha's funeral that I was worried our fate would be like Martha's. It seems I didn't think far enough. Maybe I too could become pregnant before marriage and then be abandoned by Tommy…

I looked at the people walking in the smoky streets, their heads down, and suddenly felt a bitter sensation in my eyes, but not a single tear.

In my upbringing, women were supposed to remain chaste until their wedding night, then spend their lives as wives and mothers, with activities like playing the piano or riding horses serving as mere embellishments to married life. But when I came to Birmingham, I had to rebuild all those rules in order to survive. I loved Tommy, just as Ada loved the father of her child, so I willingly went to bed with him.

But at this moment, I was truly afraid. More afraid than when I worried about Polly kicking me out when I was still underage and wanted by the law.

I didn't know how I would go on if my beloved abandoned me after I became pregnant. Since accompanying Ada to the clinic, I had once again fallen into a state of mental confusion. Although the thing I was afraid of was still a thousand miles away—after the doctor examined me at Polly's strong insistence that day, he said I was healthy but not pregnant—ever since that day, Tommy had been busy and hadn't come to see me at night…

My rationality told me that none of this mattered, that it was all just a coincidence. But I couldn't control my fear.

Tommy was still busy manipulating the gambling games, Polly was worried about Ada, and easygoing Arthur and John were either maintaining their reputation or living a life of debauchery. No one noticed that something was wrong with me.

It was the beginning of the month again, and I had to go to the Garrison pub to check the accounts and help out.

"You don't look well," the blonde Grace seemed to want to strike up a conversation with me, or maybe she was concerned about me, but I didn't have the mood to pay attention to her attentions.

I tried to focus my attention on the ledger, scribbling and drawing in the notebook, but my mind wandered, and I just stared blankly at the floating dust by the door.

When I finally snapped out of it, the barmaid was talking to Tommy by the side door. She was holding a metal bucket—her little tricks were so obvious.

I propped up my chin and watched Tommy from a distance, standing behind the bar.

He seemed to be in a good mood… But my mood got worse.

In the end, Tommy noticed that I had been hiding behind the bar all along.

"Have you finished the accounts?" He looked at me with a raised eyebrow, probably tired of me only talking about work…

"Not yet." I forced out a smile that was probably uglier than crying because I saw Tommy frown.

"Are you okay?" He walked toward me, but

I quickly retreated.

"It's none of your business! It's been so long since we've spent time together, and you're always busy with your business!" I said, my voice trembling with sadness and anger.

Tommy frowned, walked over to the bar, and called for a whiskey. Then, he raised his hand to signal for my drink. Grace immediately brought me a glass of whiskey, but I just knocked it over onto the counter.

#cillian murphy #peaky blinders #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby #peaky blinders fanfiction #tommy shelby imagine #fanfiction #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby fanfic

36 notes · View notes

lewis-winters · 9 months

Note

The whole Web-Nix-Buck thing is very "Recognition Through The Other (Derogatory)" and its great. Also they're all from different schools so that rivalry plays into it, which is funny considering a) Nix couldn't give less of a shit about Stanford, b) Buck's the only one who cares about college football, and c) nobody else watching this can tell the difference anyway. - Nathan

ONCE AGAIN MY FAVORITE RED HEAD YOU ARE SO CORRECT!! it's recognition!! it's self-loathing!! it's competition!!!! it's a study in shame!! not to speculate, but i have a feeling a part of them feels that particular middle class guilt at their upbringing, especially when surrounded by enlisted men who have had to fight tooth and nail for everything that they have!! and these 3 all have it, it's just each one disagreed with how the others managed it or grappled with it in order to either fit in or blend in.

and like. you are ALSO so correct about the schools thing-- it's so funny because they went to college for WILDLY different things and different reasons, and so their contempt for each other being fueled by simple rivalry of ivy leagues (which is largely borne in football and sports-- of which neither web nor nix care about, but buck's whole life is built around) is simply SO FUCKING FUNNY.

Web cares about schooling AND was probably talked into like. legacy enrolments and some such-- he's the type to have gone to harvard because, yeah ok it's prestigious and his parents would have LOVED to brag about it to their friends, but also the course work actually has merit and the curriculum makes the most sense and the job opportunities in the end would be a lot and the chances of getting accepted into academe is high--

meanwhile, buck chose to go to UCLA for the football program + his pre-law, and then later took post grad in Loyola Law and became a really successful lawyer so he clearly chose very carefully!!

MEANWHILE, nix chose yale because. well. his granddaddy went to yale, his daddy went to yale, so i guess he should too? nixon legacy, amirite? even if he didn't want it or want to be associated with it or even if he actually chose to go to yale for any substantial reason. the fact that he maybe didn't go back after the war (idk his wiki page says he was just there for 2 years but of course that's not the best resource) just goes to show how little it actually meant to him.

these 3 went to these big ivy league colleges for varying reasons AND YET the idea of them refusing to admit that they find each other annoying bc they are mirrors of each other that they see their worst traits in, and instead hiding behind the idea of rivalrly between differing ivy league schools all but one of them has any business in caring about in makes me laugh so fucking hard. it is the single most 20-something, middle to rich class, white male bullshit i have ever heard it is SO fucking funny i can't. get your shit together, pls. it's embarrassing for the rest of us!!

#ask #lewis nixon #david webster #buck compton #band of brothers #bob hcs #im very tipsy and had to read thru this 5 times to makes sure it mde sense #hopefully it does #mWAH NATHAN THANK YOU LABYU

40 notes · View notes

crookednachogalaxy · 1 year

Text

HI so im just gonna throw out a random idea and see if it sticks, cause i have Thoughts once again and i refuse to keep them to myself.

(also, this is long as hell, you have been warned.)

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

give me Mario and Luigi as a broken family. from the outside in they look almost perfect, the wacky brother duo who could do it all from princess saving to ghost hunting to plumbing.

Mario is the older brother, by 8 or so years, the extraverted and energetic hero who is always ready to go save the princess or lend a helping hand. he's the one who's got every situation under control, his confidence and happy demeanor bringing smiles to every toad around.

his younger brother Luigi, on the other hand, seems much more like an introverted homebody than anything else. he's the one staying behind when Mario goes on his big missions, helping to rebuild the Mushroom Kingdom after each kidnapping. he's the one doing most of the actual plumbing, his anxious and quiet personality keeping him distant from everyone. despite that, he's successfully faced off King Boo three separate times.

behind the outside facade, however, things aren't as shiny between the brothers as they may seem.

their upbringing in Brooklyn was rough. they spent most of their younger years homeless, and given their age gap, it was Mario who had to provide for Luigi in any way he could. that meant stealing food to eat, but also fighting those that wanted to harm them - and Luigi's trusting nature made it a common occurrence. it's due to this that Mario was forced to control both his and Luigi's life to the fullest, and this behaviour, born out of fear for their very lives, became so engrained in him that he never let it go even when they were finally safe after being transported to the mushroom kingdom.

for Luigi, this complete control from Mario meant that he was never really able to develop his own personality. he never went anywhere without Mario, never did anything without Mario; and while his brother liked to believe that he was keeping his baby brother safe in their little bubble, unknowing of the hardships they were facing, Luigi knew.

he only really noticed it when he started to attend school (after his brother learned a trade and managed to find a stable job). he saw it in the way the other children sneered at his worn clothes, heard it in the way they would whisper about him when they thought he couldn't hear. Luigi was never outright bullied, but he was definitely Othered by his peers, and coupling that with his brother's iron grip on everything he did, being unable to explore any part of himself, and the deep-seated paranoia that Mario let slip in any of their conversation messed with his head. it's how he became so anxious, so deeply afraid of everything around him, and how he ultimately ended up tying his worth as a person to his brother's existence. he was absolutely dependent on Mario.

when Luigi graduated, he learned the same trade his brother had, and worked at the same company as well. they continued this co-dependency for a few years; during one job they did together they were transported to the mushroom kingdom - Luigi in his early 20s and Mario approaching 30 - and they were taken in by Princess Peach.

they were offered a nice little house to live in, just outside the capital. their plumbing skills were helpful, as they quickly started to earn their keep. Mario especially became a well-liked figure among toads, being a master at hiding any negative emotion inside him to keep a calm and happy front. he made sure to be the one to gain every toad's favour, so that they wouldn't be forced out of the home they were given, and so that Luigi would, by pure association, never face any trouble here.

when the kidnappings started, Mario quickly became the mushroom kingdom's hero. his survival and fighting skills led to a quick rescue, and it paved the way for friendship between the Princess and the brothers (Peach being the first friend that Mario truly allowed Luigi to have, eventually extending that grace to Peach's cousin, Daisy).

Peach and Luigi's friendship had a slow beginning, with Luigi having close to no social skills or hobbies that they could talk about. but as she gained Mario's trust over time, he started allowing Luigi to be alone with her for short periods of time; and those were just what she needed to help him get to know himself.

it started with baking, and then later on cooking. sewing, piano, singing, painting - bit by bit she introduced the younger brother to various hobbies to help him find out what he liked to do. aside from these activities, the longer they spent together the deeper their friendship ran. Peach was a healing presence to be around, and Luigi proved himself to be a caring and immensely loyal friend to her.

their friendship also meant, however, that Luigi started insisting on joining Mario in his rescue missions, something Mario absolutely hated the thought of. it's too dangerous for you to go, he would say. she's my best friend, Mario, i can't take being left alone to worry.

Mario would always put his foot down in the end.

this power struggle between the two would only grow bigger and bigger. Luigi wanted more independence, to make his own decisions, and Mario always denied him, telling him that it was to keep him safe. arguments became more and more frequent, and they both became angrier at the other for their behaviour. it all came to a head when Luigi, furious at having been left behind again, left the house in the middle if the night following after his brother in an attempt to help with the rescue.

it took him much longer to traverse the plains towards the koopa kingdom than it did Mario; after all, he had never left Toad Town before, nor travelled this far on foot on only survival equipment. he did reach Bowser's castle eventually, finding a way to sneak in unseen. in the chaos that ensued within the castle, Luigi found a way to help his brother out but paid the price of being caught by him, too. it infuriated the older brother to no end.

the walk back to the mushroom kingdom was tense, and largely silent. Mario was refusing to look at anyone or even say a single word, only keeping a tight grip on Luigi's wrist as they walked. Luigi was deeply afraid of Mario's wrath in that moment, knowing he was in for it when they got back home. Peach tried to fill the silence somehow, keep both brothers distracted, but the older one stayed unreactive whereas any light conversation from the younger was short.

the two dropped the Princess off at the castle, and she watched pale and afraid as Mario dragged Luigi back to their home without so much as a goodbye.

the fight that started when the front door closed was the worst one yet. Mario was yelling, gesturing wildly as he reiterated the thongs he's told Luigi a million times over. his brother was trying to defend himself, for the first time truly trying to air out his grievances and get him to see his perspective. but Mario would barely let him get a word in, not even looking at him as he continued. it culminated in Mario telling Luigi in anger the very thing he had been afraid of his whole life: that he was to blame for what happened to them, that their hardships were his fault, that he was a burden to his brother.

it broke something inside of Luigi.

Mario continued screaming out every thought that came to his head, not noticing the way his brother had gone quiet, the way tears were rapidly streaming down his face. in fact, the older brother wouldn't notice it at all for the rest of the conversation, instead banishing his brother to his room to reflect on what he's done before leaving the house to cool off.

Luigi felt numb, and out of place. his brother had just told him he hated him (using different words) and then left him. it almost seemed like the walls were closing on him the longer he stayed in this room, suffocating him with every memory that existed here. it took him a few hours before he could move his stiff and tired body - but when he did it was dead of night, and Mario was still gone. the words he had said echoed through his head relentlessy. and as if he were on auto-pilot, he packed up a few sets of clothes, some non-perishables from the pantry, and whatever other thing his fried brain could think of. with only a short note, he left behind the life he knew.

Luigi ran away.

he didn't care to notice which way he went as he ran, all he wanted at that moment is to run as far away as possible and for as long as he could. he had to get away, no matter where the road took him. the road he had taken, however, was the one leading straight to the koopa kingdom; his brain having defaulted to the only familiar route it knew in the darkness.

and so the plumber found himself disheveled and dirty as he faced the koopa capital, having spent a night or two on unfamiliar roads with nightmares to boot. his eyes were bloodshot, dark circles under his eyes, and his body all kinds of exhausted.

he spent a few more nights camping just outside the town, during the day trying to get any odd job that would pay. he needed the money to afford a temporary stay and food, as his rations were depleting at a quicker rate than expected. it was hard to find those odd jobs, however, as no one seemed willing to trust a disheveled, dirty, unknown human who only appeared days ago. fair, he thought, not being able to really bring himself to care.

soldiers patrolling the border of the capital caught sight of him, and, after realizing he posed no threat, took pity on him. they brought him to the castle for an audience with the king, hoping that he may give this human a second chance at life that he so clearly needed.

when Luigi saw Bowser, he felt that familiar fear creep in. it lasted only for a single moment, as his brain decided to harshly remind him that Bowser was Mario's enemy, not his. and he couldn't take the Peach justification as he had left her behind without a second thought as well. so why should he care? it made no difference after all.

the plumber spoke to the king with utmost politeness, yet the numbness was easily recognizable by anyone who saw him. when Bowser, who evidently didn't see or remember him from the last rescue, questioned him, Luigi said he had nowhere to return to, no home to call his; that he was a plumber by trade looking for work anywhere it was available. Bowser offered him a deal: become the official castle plumber (and pick up some other skills along the way to be useful), and in exchange he would be given a staff bedroom and be fed 3 meals a day. Luigi accepted.

the first few weeks passed with no issue. the plumber did his work quietly and efficiently, staying respectful to any other caste staff and nodding to the King when they passed each other. one night, however, King Bowser found the plumber staring out at the rivers of lava in the dead of night, tears rolling down his cheeks and sniffling. when the koopa approached him, Luigi went back to that neutrality/apathy that Bowser was used to seeing from him; but their conversation, brief and guarded, brought out a tiny shred of understanding for the other. there was more to the man in green than the koopa had thought, and now he felt interest in getting to know him. Luigi, in turn, realized that Bowser may not be as monstrous or power hungry as he had heard before. the smallest of olive branches had been extended.

over the coming time, Bowser would be the one to make an effort for friendship/companionship. he would slowly start breaking down the walls that Luigi had built to protect himself from the world and his own thoughts. the process required a lot of patience, something Bowser struggles with, but seeing how Luigi treats him so normally, as if he were any other person and not a monster made it worth it.

meanwhile, Mario was going crazy in the mushroom kingdom. the first 2 days after their fight he had refused to enter Luigi's room, believing that he was in one of his moods and thats why he didn't respond to Mario's calls for food. by the third morning his anger had faded and worry set in. he knocked on his brother's door, gently calling to him that he wants to talk and apologize, and to come out and eat. when he received no reply, he opened the door himself to see the room empty, no sign of Luigi, his essentials packed and bed made. his blood ran cold as the realization swept in that his brother had run away.

in a panic, he ran to Peach's castle. when he found her, he barely got the words out of Luigi's disappearance before he had a panic attack, his head filling with self-loathing thoughts. he's not aware as he's taken to the infirmary and seen by the castle's doctor, and it takes him a while to come back down again. Peach is by his side the entire time, teary-eyed, as she watched over Mario and prayed for Luigi's safety.

for the first time in their lives, the brothers have been completely separated from one another. Mario spent his days in grief, staying in the castle, trying to break out every night to go find Luigi himself. Peach increased security around the castle, holding him back, saying that Mario would make no progress in the state he was in. she sent out several scout groups to search the entire kingdom for her friend, but the results stayed fruitless.

Luigi and Bowser's friendship deepens in the meantime. slowly but sure his walls start to come down, he showed more emotions, smiling and laughing just the smallest bit as he gets to know Bowser. he also met the King's son, Junior, whom he got along great with. things seemed to be looking up for him; he had found a new home, he was making new friends apart from the King as well, and the townspeople started welcoming him.

then, for the first time in a while, Bowser kidnapped Peach once more.

if truth be told, the day started like any other for Luigi. he was told by Kamek that Bowser was busy with his kingly duties, so he spent the morning helping the kitchen staff prep for lunch and then read a book in the library. by early afternoon, Junior had come looking for him to play a while, and after that Luigi went into the city for a small job or two, exchanging pleasantries with the citizens of the capital. by the time he was back in the castle, the day was over and the prince was asleep. he came across the King by complete accident, greeting him as he usually did when both he and Bowser froze at the heartbreaking cry of Luigi's name.

hesitantly looking up at the cage he hadn't seen before, he saw a person he thought he'd never see again. in that cage stood Peach, holding on tightly to the bars as she cried. Luigi's small whisper of Peachie...? told Bowser all he needed to know in that moment. when the plumber started walking towards the cage, picking up speed with every step and reaching for it, Bowser quietly opened and lowered the cage. he watched in shock and surprise as the Princess threw herself at the plumber, sobbing, and told him how worried she was about him, how glad she was that he was safe. it took him a moment to react, but when he did, Luigi broke down completely in her arms, both sinking to the ground in their embrace.

Kamek ended up leading them all to the study to talk it out. Luigi had clammed up again, refusing to talk to Bowser or Peach. Bowser put a gentle hand to Luigi's back; when he hesitantly looked up at the koopa, he saw no sign of betrayal, or hurt. just gentle concern, and a quiet promise of i'm here. he explained to them both the fight he had with Mario, how he had come to the koopa kingdom and how he found his place here. all Peach cared to know was if he was safe and happy. Luigi's affirmation of that had Bowser happier than he wanted to admit. out of that conversation also came the reason Bowser was kidnapping the princess in the first place; that being resources. the vulnerability of that conversation and Luigi's question of helping the koopa kingdom has Peach and Bowser agreeing to start peace negotiations.

as always, Mario came to rescue Peach. upon Luigi's insistence, she didn't tell Mario that his brother was there, and she did her best to try and get Luigi's perspective through his head - hoping that eventually the brothers could meet again and work out their issues. for now, she could only see her dear friend when negotiations were happening.

on the koopa end of things, that vulnerability from the conversation with peach paved the way for a deeper relationship between Bowser and Luigi. things developed slowly between them, as the plumber would need time before he can truly trust again, but the affection and the intentions were there. they were both happy to explore this new dynamic at a slow pace, both wanting to do right by the other. very fluffy.

when Luigi felt ready for it, he asked Daisy to tell his brother that he was well. he didn't want to reveal his location, or say anything else; but he was starting to heal, and a part of him missed his brother dearly, and so he figured letting him know hey, i'm okay, and when i'm ready for it i'll see you again was alright. when Daisy delivered the message per phone call, Mario was frantic to know more, but Peach and Daisy both talked him down. Mario was slowly starting to accept that he had to go at Luigi's pace, let him make his own decisions. it pained him, but he agreed. he told Daisy to tell Luigi that he was glad he was well, and that he would wait.

the response from his brother had Luigi in shambles for a day, one part happy that his brother was finally coming around and the other furious that it took him running away for it to happen. Bowser stayed beside him throughout that day, offering his comfort to his sweetheart.

and so, the years started passing. peace was signed between the two kingdoms, and small steps were taken every once in a while by the brothers to slowly repair their relationship. it started with the passing of messages through Daisy, and it would turn into letters updating the other on their lives. Mario told Luigi that he was with Peach, and in turn Luigi was honest about his relationship with Bowser (that one took Mario a while to process, but he was learning to let go of that need for control; Luigi told him he was happy and that's all that mattered).

the first time they meet in person again is a few years after their fight and the peace treaty. Peach and Mario made their way to the koopa kingdom on Luigi's invitation, and the reunion in the throne room was tense at first. Peach and Bowser both kept watch over the brothers, ready to step in at any moment.

the brothers themselves were frozen in place, staring at one another. it felt so foreign to stand in front of each other, after years apart and limited communication. Mario took the first steps, placing a hesitant hand to Luigi's cheek. when he responded to the soft call of his name, both brothers hugged each other tightly, crying openly and loudly. over the two days that he and Peach were in the koopa kingdom, that is all Mario and Luigi did - no words were exchanged between them, but they did not let go of the other, catching up on the lost affection.

it would take many more years for their relationship to become "normal" again. many arguments, periods of no contact, and apologies. they were both healing from a lifetime of hurt at their own paces, but ultimately they both made the effort to repair their relationship. when Mario and Peach married, Luigi was there as best man, and the same was said for Luigi and Bowser's wedding. Junior would eventually come to adore his uncle Mario, and his children would enjoy many vacations in the koopa kingdom with uncle Luigi. they both chose different paths for themselves, but what mattered most was that they both chose a path of love and healing, one that they could walk together in time.

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

so that's it i guess. now that i've written it out, this turned into a whole ass fic idea when that wasn't the case originally, CLEARLY i don't know how to be concise. oh well.

if anyone wants to pick this up, feel free! just let me know if you do something with it because i wanna see the results of it :D

#bowser #bowuigi #bowser x luigi #luigi #luigi x bowser #mario #super mario #princess peach #broken family #they've been through some shit yall #sorry not sorry #fic idea #mario x peach

63 notes · View notes

errantnight · 8 months

Note

Sephiroth assumes Genesis and angeal had a similar upbringing to him (experiments of Hollander instead of Hojo). He finds out otherwise when they're both horrified at some aspect of his childhood that he just casually mentions without thinking anything of it...

Sorry this took SO LONG I just am unable to make things short sometimes and this one grabbed me and wouldn't let go!

I am doing all of these that I get, I just got a LOT of them and I'm working through them chronologically as I received them!

This is the first time I've written ABO! Please let me know if I did okay?

"Bad Medicine" <-- one AO3

After Sephiroth’s customary round of injections and the tests to be certain that they were taking and absorbing correctly were finished, he’d fought to keep himself in control as something registered on the edge of his senses.

The scent of fear and pain nearly made Sephiroth retch as the scent of an omega in distress made him want to hurry his steps, to run to his side, but he had to keep his stride to slow and measured steps. An impersonal, blank, expression was a careful mask as he passed from Hojo’s lair and into Hollander’s domain.

Hojo had waved him off earlier than usual, without the usual pain and healing tests, and ordered him to “Go get your pet omega, he’s distracting my assistants.” He’d been expecting Genesis to be causing trouble on purpose during his own Mako injections, using his often abrasive wit to hide the anxiety and pain that must have come from the treatments - Even Sephiroth, generally inured to pain and well practiced in hiding any discomfort during what a normal person might call ‘torture’, occasionally slipped up and showed his true feelings.

For the omega, it was impossible to hide his scent as he might usually do - his scent blockers had been slated to be renewed and clearly something had gone wrong… or ‘right’ as far as whatever procedure Hollander had decided to test out on the other man.

Angeal was the stoic one, the one who came back from the labs and insisted that nothing was wrong, he felt just fine, and to please not concern himself with his discomfort when they all went through the same thing. Genesis always made a fuss, refusing to keep his mouth shut while being treated - Sephiroth had heard him repeating Loveless on an endless loop from behind the closed door of Hollander’s personal lab whenever the pain became too much.

For himself, he’d learned long ago that any reaction to painful stimuli or what most people would think of as humiliation, would make everything so much worse. Angeal was more like him in that way and sometimes Sephiroth envied the other alpha’s ability to come out of the science department with a smile of encouragement for anyone else waiting for their turn. No matter what it was that Hollander did to him, it seemed to have no lasting effects. Sephiroth himself usually secluded himself in his rooms until he had complete control over himself, usually too ill to eat or accept a mission for three days or so. How did Angeal do it? How did he go back to teaching and training his new apprentice while suffering the aftereffects of Hollander’s experiments? He was so much stronger than Sephiroth, no matter what anyone said about his prowess in battle.

Sephiroth knew the tests and procedures were necessary for the progression of the SOLDIER program, to further the field of science as a whole, and to make certain various potions and curatives would be the correct dosages for the enhanced men under his command. He suffered through them, desperately trying not to show anything but calm acceptance and the expected silence as Hojo rambled about what he hoped to accomplish. If he had to have the flesh on the back his hands be flayed open to test how quickly it took to heal itself with various new potion formulations, or be forced to hold himself still through a spinal tap to check how much Mako made its way into his spinal fluid versus in his blood, he knew he could get through it as long as he had three or four days to recover.

He stepped through the door into the other scientist’s examination room and fought the urge to cover his nose with his hand as the scent of pain-fear-stress hit him full force. Genesis wasn’t usually like this, even though he was the worst of the three of them to be able to handle what they suffered in the name of science. Genesis wasn’t supposed to be lying curled on his side covered in sweat and reeking of distress and misery, totally silent with glazed eyes. His usual scent of apples and spice was both sickly sweet and somehow bitter all at once. Sephiroth didn’t bother to ask permission to pick up his friend and carry him out, ignoring the spluttering Hollander and stepping past him without a word. Genesis didn’t finch, didn’t insist that he wasn’t a child or a lapdog to be scooped up and carted around, especially by Sephiroth of all people. That was so intensely wrong.

In the elevator, Sephiroth pressed his lips into a thin line, his mask breaking completely when Genesis reached up and weakly clutched at a strand of Sephiroth’s hair. He lowered his head, a curtain of silver blocking Genesis, and incidentally his own pale face, from view as the elevator opened and admitted a handful of office workers. They were clearly curious, but it was absolutely none of their business. Let them gossip about the two of them being lovers all they wanted… Not that Sephiroth would mind it if it were true, and he ignored the pang of longing that he’d never let Genesis see - the other man had enough to deal with and had his choice of anyone he wanted.

He shook off his own spiraling thoughts as he carried Genesis into his own apartment, rushing into his bedroom once the door was closed behind them with no more chances for someone to catch him doing so. Genesis listlessly clutched at the pillow Sephiroth laid him down on, dragging it from underneath his head to cuddle it against his chest.

Sephiroth rarely swore, and never where anyone would hear him, but he muttered a soft curse and ran into the hallway to fling open the door to the linen closet. He wished he could find Genesis’ key-card to get into his apartment, surely the omega had an abundance of blankets and pillows, everything he would need to make himself a nest to curl up and recover in. Much like purring, the nest itself helped to relieve distress and mute pain, although he’d always wondered if they weren’t perhaps psychosomatic.

He’d never felt the strange sort of panic that began to well up in his chest, the knowledge that Genesis was miserable and radiating pheromones that had never affected Sephiroth in quite this way. He’d scented omegas in distress and pain many times, the infirmary tents in Wutai had often stank of it. But this had a quality he couldn’t explain… It made his hands begin to shake and his mouth was dry as Genesis shivered and curled into a ball on the bed.

“Mn,” Genesis whimpered out a soft sound of discomfort from the other room that set Sephiroth’s every nerve on edge, the need to do something becoming overwhelming, “m’cold…”

Dragging out every extra blanket, sheet, and pillow, woefully limited the selection might be, he dragged his armful back into the bedroom and began to arrange it all around Genesis to cocoon him in the warmth. He didn’t know what was driving him on, he’d never done any such thing, but it seemed to come naturally to build up small walls of comfort around Genesis’ curled up form. He tossed the softest blanket he had, something Angeal had given him he was certain, over top of everything and tucked it in around the other man.

Sephiroth hovered by the bed until Genesis reached a hand out from beneath the blanket and mumbled out, “More…”

Uncertain what else to do, Sephiroth sat on the edge of the bed and pulled his boots off, stripping out of his coat and harness before gingerly climbing into the circle he’d made around his friend. Very hesitantly he wrapped one arm around the other man.

Genesis shifted back against him, sighing as he seemed to bask in the warmth of Sephiroth’s body. One of his feet reached back and hooked his heel around Sephiroth’s knee, guiding it over his thigh to get more warmth enveloping him. The other man’s skin was hot and unpleasantly sticky from mako-fever sweat. Sephiroth knew he’d be replacing everything in here when Genesis was well again, including the mattress if the mako made its way through the sheets and blankets. He didn’t care though, not if it made his… he shook his head, as long as Genesis was comfortable while he recovered that was alright.

Sephiroth sighed, a low shivery breath, and leaned closer. He would never take this liberty in any other circumstance, hoping Genesis didn’t firaga him right in the face as soon as he was well. He nuzzled into the sweat soaked hair at the back of Genesis head, moving down just a little bit, until he could scent him. The pain and distress was still there, but the fear was gone. He rubbed his cheek against Genesis’ shoulder, pressing his own scent into his skin, then went still as he realized what he had done.

He’d never done that, not to anyone, and certainly never to one of his only friends. He thought, ruefully, that he would deserve that firaga…

He startled as he heard his own door open and close, heavy steps making their way quickly to the bedroom. Sephiroth pulled his face away, uncertain when he’d drifted down to touch his forehead to Genesis scent gland, feeling as though he had been caught doing something even more intimate and forbidden. Unexpectedly, the worry on Angeal’s face softened to some other expression he couldn’t name. Watching them for a moment, Angeal ran a hand over his hair, muttering something that sounded like ‘Finally,’ in an exasperated tone that made no sense.

Sephiroth didn’t know why it bothered him so much when Angeal sat down on the edge of the bed and touched his fingers against Genesis' pulse, so close to the place on Genesis' throat where he had just been rubbing himself against. Shame washed through him, leaving him feeling cold and hot in turns as Angeal cupped Genesis’ chin in a gesture that showed he’d done it many times, “Gen, can you wake up a little?”

Angeal looked over Genesis’ shoulder to Sephiroth, still touching Genesis, which still made Sephiroth feel upset in some unexplainable way, “It helps if you keep talking to him when he’s, um, like this.”

A pang of his own distress stiffened Sephiroth’s shoulders as he turned his attention back to his, to their, friend. How many times had this happened and he’d never known? What had Hollander done to him? He couldn’t smell blood, so either he’d healed Genesis to a point he’d stopped bleeding or whatever he’d done hadn’t been particularly invasive…

“I…” he began and then trailed off, uncertain what he was supposed to say to help Genesis, “it’s going to be alright, Gen, please wake up?” He cringed slightly as Angeal’s lips turned up at the corners, knowing he sounded more than a little awkward and pathetic.

Quietly, they both called Genesis back until he half turned in Sephiroth’s hold and blinked up at them, bleary eyed and still sweating. His body language, curling back against the warm body flush against him, and his scent were still tainted with distress.

“What happened?” Sephiroth asked quietly, pulling the blanket away from Genesis and receiving a plaintive mew of sound like nothing he’d heard from the omega before in his life. Genesis shook his head and deeper concern sped Sephiroth’s heart rate as he rose up, “I’m sorry but you know I have to do this if you don’t remember.”

He looked up at Angeal, “Will you help me? I don’t know what your usual routine is after your appointments, but I usually start checking my abdomen if I can’t remember what was done - I can’t smell blood but that doesn’t rule out any exploratory surgery and he’s been favoring around his stomach the whole time.”

He had to gently turn Genesis onto his back, pulling up the sweat soaked t-shirt he was wearing and began carefully palpating his stomach and watching the other man’s face for a reaction as he checked all the usual places, moving up to check his throat even though he’d been so close to it a moment ago.

“Does that feel alright, no tenderness or pain?” he asked, wondering why Genesis was looking up at Angeal with one of the odd expressions Sephiroth had always had trouble figuring out. The other man was looking more and more alert, and somehow more and more alarmed at the same time.

“Are you certain it doesn’t hurt, is your throat alright?” It wasn’t like Genesis to be so quiet, especially when he was injured or ill and he felt a burst of genuine panic rise as he asked, “he didn’t cut your vocal chords did he?”

“Does…” Angeal reached out a hand to him, unexpectedly, and Sephiroth pulled back before his friend could touch his face as he’d done Genesis a moment ago, “does that happen during your appointments?”

“Does what happen?” Sephiroth asked, confused, as he resumed checking Genesis for injuries, making him sit up and checking the back of his neck and touching each inch of his spine for damage, “no spinal tap either…”

“Does Hojo cut your vocal chords?” Angeal elaborated and Sephiroth realized that the strange expression on Angeal’s face was concern. He must have worried that Genesis had earned such a punishment.

He shrugged, “Not for years. I learned to be quiet through any of the tests and procedures.” He waved a hand toward Angeal, “You’re quiet enough as well to not need to be corrected, I’ve never heard you when I know you’ve had the same slot as I did, but I’ve heard Genesis enough times that… I wondered… I worried about when Hollander would get angry enough to do something about it.”

“I’m alright,” Genesis said carefully, his voice rough but otherwise seeming alright. It made more sense if he had been screaming, and Hollander had merely cast silence on him, “he did try something new, but I’m not… I’m just…” Genesis stumbled over his words, which again was unlike him, “I’m not injured.”

“Are you ill then?” Sephiroth asked, reaching up to lay his hand on Genesis’ forehead, although he could already feel the heat radiating from the man through his side, still pressed up against him, “poison resistance tests?”

“No!” Genesis rolled over, wincing, and Sephiroth went stiff as the omega wrapped his arms around his neck and twined their legs together in one sinuous movement.

Genesis rubbed his cheek along his own and Sephiroth’s breath hitched in his chest, the sensation so unfamiliar he didn’t know how to process it. The alarm and fear was back in Genesis scent, mixed with that sweetness that was no longer as cloying as it had seemed earlier. He hesitantly reciprocated. Having never done so before, he hoped he was doing it right.

“No…” Genesis said again, his voice growling in his chest. He raised his head, turning enough to look into Sephiroth’s face, “that doesn’t happen to us, that has never happened to either of us. That isn’t normal.”

“It isn’t right” Angeal’s voice was lower and deeper than usual, radiating sheer fury, and Sephiroth stared at both of them in turn. Angeal ran a hand down his face, abruptly leaning closer, one hand in the nest and the other reaching out to curl his fingers through Sephiroth’s hair and cup the back of his head. Too startled to move, Angeal pulled him closer to touch their foreheads together, Genesis trapped in between them, “it’s so fucking wrong.”

If Sephiroth never swore, Angeal had always seemed as though he never even thought of it. He felt something tight in his chest loosen, then swayed into Angeal’s grasp as Genesis broke out into a low and comforting purr. The sound radiated into his chest from Genesis wrapping their bodies together closer. He’d heard that this could happen, that an omega’s purring had healing properties, but he wasn’t injured. Why did he feel so dizzy and strange?

There was a small space of quiet and he realized he’d said the last part out loud. Genesis’s low purr hitched for a moment, then grew into something so strong Sephiroth felt he might be vibrating.

A matching rumble spread from Angeal, dragging him and Genesis closer until he tumbled into the nest and curled himself over both of them. Sephiroth should have struggled - should have wanted to, but their weight and the purring, and the… protective… it was protective, the growl thrumming through both of them was seeping somehow into Sephiroth.

“No one has ever fucking purred for you in your godsdamned life, have they?” wetness was dripping down Sephiroth’s neck, soaking into his shirt. “Goddess, fuck!” Genesis sounded as though he were choking.

Angeal’s hand gripping the back of Sephiroth’s head loosened, his fingers petting through the silver strands as his head hit the edge of the nest and he felt like he would melt right through it. Whatever was happening sucked all of the energy out of him. He went limp as both men began to speak quietly, in turn.

It was all wrong, they said, that Hojo was a monster, that none of that should ever have happened - they were both so sorry they hadn’t known, hadn’t understood that something so awful was the reason he often sequestered himself in his rooms for days after his appointments.

“I will never,” Genesis hissed viciously, arms still wrapped around him and gripping handfuls of Sephiroth’s shirt, “ever, let you go alone again. Never.”

The growl in Angeal’s throat grew even lower, somehow, “I don’t think that’ll be a problem, not if I have something to say about it.”

A laugh, a very small, strange laugh, was huffed into Sephiroth’s throat as Genesis nuzzled against him, “oh, good, I don’t think I can stand up long enough to do something about it just now.”

“You’re still ill,” Sephiroth whispered, unable to so much as raise his head beneath the two men, still confused and curious at once why the sounds they were making were both affecting him so strongly, “you’re burning up, you’re not going anywhere.”

“I’m not sick,” Genesis insisted again, “I’m in heat. Hollander tried to give me some experimental drug he formulated to stop it, it just made it worse.”

“Excuse me,” Angeal said, faintly, rising from his perch on the edge of the bed, “I need to go down to science for a while, I’ll leave the two of you, ah, to it.”

“Do you want me to go?” Sephiroth asked, uncertain that he would be able to move if Genesis wanted him to leave, “aren’t heats… private or something?” He didn’t know much about it, his biology textbooks had never gone into the social aspects of such things save the bits he’d assumed were theoretical about purring and nests - but now knew had some validity.

Genesis hooked his leg over Sephiroth’s hip, turning his face into Sephiroth’s shoulder again, “Don’t you dare,” he said, “I don’t want to be alone.”

Still unable to so much as raise his head, feeling light headed and just.. somehow… light, Sephiroth held Genesis a little more tightly… “I think… I don’t… either.”

Genesis somehow began to purr even harder, “Oh good,” he said, sounding choked again, “I wasn’t going to let you anyway.”

#ffvii #ff7 #sephgen #genseph #whump #writing prompt #referenced medical torture #referenced torture #misunderstandings #abo #alpha/beta/omega dynamics #non traditional a/b/o

19 notes · View notes

blaiddfailcam · 9 months

Text

Okay fine here are some "brief" headcanons about Blaidd and his upbringing among the Carians. Totally not telling on myself how much I overthink these games but:

As far as "headcanons" go, these are more so my rationalizations of Blaidd's relationships, and why he's so uninformed regarding his nature as a bringer of bale. I do feel the game offers some complex emotional drama that's fun to dissect. In essence, this is how the chronology of their dynamics "make sense" to me.

I'm not one for entirely cozy-cute interpretations, nor anything too edgy, but the latter story ruminations might paint the characters as somewhat cold and melancholy. To me, there is a good deal of sadness behind Blaidd's hardened persona, which always had me wondering how lonely he must have felt, searching for insurmountable years for an elusive key to unlocking Ranni's dream and his own demise.

But I'll start with the nicer stuff, lol.

Childhood

Blaidd wasn't "born," but created by the Two Fingers from Ranni's violet left eye to be her animus—not unlike Eve from Adam's rib.

Upon creation, he appeared as a wolf-headed human child with grayish skin and scant fur, with pink palms and soles. He was repulsive to the Carian servants, reminiscent of a demi-human.

In-game, Blaidd never blinks. As such, I like to think he literally never closes his eyes, nor does he rest.

Ranni was quickly drawn to him. Her first word upon seeing his lupine head was, "Blaidd!"—Wolf. Thus, the name stuck: Blaidd the Half-Wolf.

Rennala was not immediately approving of him, as she appreciated the danger he posed to her Empyrean daughter. As such, he was kept separate from her and raised under Iji's watchful eye in Kingsrealm.

Ranni would regularly secret herself out of the manor to play with her new friend by the cover of night. When Iji discovered this, he gently allowed them to continue. To him, they were almost as his adoptive children, or so he dared to pretend.

Blaidd was tutored in combat, assisted Iji with his smithing, and partook in hunting and fishing on behalf of the gate town. Naturally, this latter activity was his preferred pastime, which culminated in his talent for tracking traitors to the royal family.

Neither Radagon, Radahn, nor Rykard ever met Blaidd. To him, the Carian males were as distant as the stars.

Knighthood

Blaidd was trained in mock combat by Loretta. Loretta criticized his ineptitude for sorcery, fostering a mutual resentment when he soundly defeated her with his brutish strength.

Understanding Blaidd's unwitting role as Ranni's shadow, Iji was unnerved by his speed and aggression with ordinary weaponry. As such, he fashioned a colossal sword not unlike the trolls' royal greatswords to serve as a suitable weapon, as well as an inhibitor in the tragic event he ever turned on Ranni.

Blaidd's earliest armor was somewhat lowly, not so dissimilar from the Bloodhound knights', sans a cape.

Seluvis attempted to tutor Blaidd in the ways of Carian sorcery, but Blaidd had neither patience nor interest. Instead, he preferred to play childish pranks. Feeling sympathetic for the caged cuckoo birds, Blaidd once released a number of them, and Seluvis was convinced he had devoured them. From then on, he rejected him as his pupil.

Her distrust of the Two Fingers mounting into adulthood, Ranni became detached from Blaidd, to his distress.

One day, she disappeared. Blaidd tracked her to the frigid north alone, fashioning his makeshift cape from the hide of a greatwolf. When he found her, she was half-frozen. Enveloping her in his cape, he carried her to shelter.

When she came to, she apologized—but even still, she achingly refused to reveal her intentions. She was terrified of how her treachery would hurt Blaidd, but her resolve was as iron.

After their return, Rennala spoke to Blaidd in private. To his surprise, she apologized to him for her distrust. She declared that he and Ranni must become close as kin, inducting him officially into the Carian royal family as Ranni's honorary stepbrother.

As such, Rennala commissioned Iji to fashion a proper suit of armor for Blaidd, and a sword befitting a Carian knight, inlaid with many-colored glintstones.

The Dire Plot

After Radagon's departure and Rennala's descent into madness, Ranni maintained the Carian estate with Blaidd as her dutiful knight, defending from the battle-ready Cuckoo.

Blaidd was not included in Ranni and Rykard's plot to steal the Rune of Death, nor the Night of the Black Knives. Seeing as this trespass would fly in the face of the Greater Will, Ranni was careful to distance herself from him, should he enact his role as her executioner.

When the time came, Ranni diverted Blaidd to Raya Lucaria using Seluvis as a diversion. Unaware of her plot, he swiftly made his way to the academy, but upon arrival was swiftly imprisoned. (Ya know, sealing spells and all that.)

Breaking free the next morning, Blaidd stormed back to Caria Manor. But in Ranni's place, he found only a doll—until she spoke, and a chill ran down his spine. She confessed to her treacherous crime, expressing her utmost determination to rid herself of her curse.

Although he was shaken, Blaidd swore an oath that her secret would remain kept, and that he would serve no master but her. From then on, he dutifully commenced his age-long search for the Eternal City of Nokron.

The Shattering

In his distance from Ranni, Blaidd became himself more cold and skeptical. He observed the Shattering Wars from a distance, indifferent to the bloody corpse mounds littering eastern Liurnia, and unperturbed by the blight of Deathroot that plagued the Lands Between following Ranni's plot.

During a skirmish en route to Caelid, Blaidd ambushed Malenia, not with the intention of killing or impeding her, but out of curiosity as to her resemblance to Ranni's Empyrean flesh. He challenged the valkyrie, but in a single precise motion, she pierced his chest below his sword arm—a lethal blow to most, but only enough to temporarily subdue a shadow.

Afterward, he never involved himself in the war beyond protecting the manor.

Until present

Ever since Ranni's betrayal, Blaidd would irregularly drift into unconsciousness. Unbeknownst to him, these fainting spells marked the conjuring of Baleful Shadows, fashioned in his image.

For as desperate he was to fulfill Ranni's ambition, Blaidd was consistently delayed by an insidious traitor. Old Iji, still greatly attached to his dear children despite their unraveling tale, dangled fabricated allegations with which to occupy the merciless hunter.

Even so, his good nature remained relatively intact, only teased by a select few friends met in his encounters. One such character, of course, was Kalé. When Seluvis discovered someone had made off with the eyepiece of his priceless telescope, Blaidd began a lethargic hunt for the culprit. Discovering Kalé south of Stormveil, he questioned the telescope he spied in the merchant's possession. Kalé insisted it was sold to him in his travels. Blaidd fully believed him, but gave up the search out of boredom.

Blaidd fosters a respect for wildlife. He is, after all, reviled by most for his half-wolven visage. Perhaps he feels some penitence for his zealous hunting in his youth, or maybe it's born of defiance for Seluvis's vulgar accusations in the disappearance of his cuckoos.

Blaidd totally witnessed Kenneth Haight getting his shit rocked at Fort Haight and did nothing. He found it funny.

◇◇◇

In general, I think Ranni and Blaidd do care for each other deeply, but I find it interesting how Ranni manages to distance herself from her emotions in retaliation against the Two Fingers. Blaidd was conceived to suppress her through their mutual admiration. Aknowledging such, Ranni takes on a distant air in equal parts for their protection from each other, and in full understanding that her treachery would inevitably destroy him.

To be clear, I'm not saying Ranni is a bad character. I think it's awesome to have such a determined character who actually makes you question the morality of her revolt. Do her means truly justify the end? Likewise, Blaidd strikes me as someone who tries his best to be good, but in his determination to betray even his own emotions for Ranni's sake, he steeps into a depraved thirst for vengeance. He's not exactly a critical thinker.

When Blaidd eventually is corrupted, I question whether it was entirely the control of the Two Fingers, or if he felt a relentless rage toward Ranni. He spent years working to fulfill her destiny, after all. He had loved her with all his being. Even still, she foresook him. Despite this, he rooted himself where he knelt, refusing to let his fury bring her harm.

They kinda freaks. Love me some freaks.

Anyway pls don't let this make you think I'm any less cool or well-adjusted

#my ramblings #not tagging more specifically because im afraid of being crinche lol #if u find a typo #no u didnt

12 notes · View notes

ltbarnes · 1 year

Text

Resurrection Part VI

Summary: Bucky Barnes was only nineteen when the lives of his parents and little sister were taken right in front of him by the ruthless members of the Odinson mob. His father’s mistakes have turned Bucky into a vengeful and cold shell of the charming boy he once was, now deeply rooted in the criminal lifestyle of the Stark mafia. Sudden attacks ignite the conflict between the two forces of the city, refueling the rivalry that has been rather tame for years. Nine years since Bucky’s life fell apart, he finds it shattering once more when what was supposed to be long dead returns to the living.

Pairing: brother!mafia!Bucky Barnes x adopted!sister!reader, mafia!Thor Odinson x reader, mafia!Loki Odinson x reader, eventual Steve Rogers x reader

Word count: 3.2k

Warnings: fire, violence, guns and people being shot, technically kidnapping, petty fighting

A/N: it’s been way too long since I updated this last (a month 😃) but enjoy!!

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

Smoke rises up towards the ceiling while you cough. Flames dance over the tables, ravaging curtains and walls and chairs alike. You barely see anything through your tears.

"Run! Hallway, Y/n, for god's sake!" M'Baku yells frantically while throwing his arm out in the direction of the corridor leading into the kitchen.

You don't really know how much time has passed since they barged into the restaurant. Two, three minutes at most. A gunshot was heard and Thor instantly pushed you from your seat onto the floor, hiding you underneath the table. A lot of yelling. Another shot, directed towards the chandelier with live candles swinging from the ceiling.

The fire spread quickly after that. You heard a scream and tried to place it—understand if it belonged to someone you know. At least one person must have died by now. Your ears are ringing from all the guns fired inside of the restaurant, and your panic makes things spin and figures blur. Distinguishing your own people from the ones who invaded is hard.

Beams are already falling from the ceiling. You cried out as a piece hit your forehead—rid of the flames, but heavy nonetheless. Hurts like a goddamn bitch. The sound of someone yelling your name can be heard in the background somewhere. Heimdall, maybe? Thor?

M'Baku is trying to stave off the attackers while getting you to safety. Not very successful in his endeavors, mostly because of your shock. You spin around frantically, trying to find some form of anchor to ground you, lead you out because you can't figure out which way is which.

You want to leave, but your dizziness and hyperventilating prohibits you from even separating up from down. The floor meets your knees, you barely noticed yourself falling over, blinking slowly to gather your surroundings.

It's the sight of someone pointing their gun towards what must be the outline of Loki, pressing down on the trigger in the same moment you realize who the person behind the weapon is.

The moment has passed once you scramble up to your feet. The bullet has torn through flesh and you can't really process why on earth Jack Rollins would shoot his own boss.

"Loki!" you cry, scream, out. Sobs wrack your limbs and you can't really see anything now.

You refuse to lose him. Loki has been such a crucial part of your upbringing that you consider him family by now. He is your brother, wether he views himself as that or not. Losing more family members is something you simply can't agree upon. Not Loki.

Your cries for the man become hoarse as you stumble over your feet trying to get closer. Hands grab your shoulders before you can get any further, turning you towards them with a harsh grip before you can see what happened to the raven-haired man.

"Go for fuck's sake! You're going to die!" Quill says, forcing you to look into his panicked eyes before pushing you in the direction of the hallway.

Even despite your heart screaming at you, begging you to go to Loki, you know he wouldn't want that—for two people to die when one could get out alive. A waste of life, he would probably think. So you go against what you want and move away.

It's more stumbling than running you're doing while using the walls to move forward, lungs screaming in protest as the smoke clouds the air. It thins out the farther away from the salon you get, but your body doesn't really want to understand that. It hurts to breathe all the same.

This combination of crying and coughing feels like something you haven't done since you were five years old. Scared, searching for someone you know while desperately trying to avoid anyone you don't know. Those want you harm, they want you dead. And then there's those you do know who probably also want you dead. The image of Rollins shooting Loki still displays at the forefront of your mind. Why would he do that?

Faint shouts and orders yelled in the background. Stopping for air for a few seconds. Sterile kitchen light darkened by the smoke slowly billowing in. The lights shut down. A few sparks emit from one of the lamps in the ceiling as the entire electrical system malfunctions.

Your knees are weak, and so is the rest of your body, and you have a thought or two of giving up. Sitting down and waiting for either the fire to take you or the bullets of whoever hits you first. Being stealthy isn't something you can manage right now, despite M'Baku's nagging voice in your mind telling you to be careful, with rigorous cough attacks threatening to blow apart your lungs alerting anyone who looks for you. As a matter of fact, you wonder where everyone is. Just one familiar face would be enough to keep you going, even though you want to puke from the dizziness.

The kitchen leads out into another hallway, one you've never been in before, that is almost completely dark besides the red exit signs lighting up your path just slightly. Your eyes sting with tears, trying to exonerate the smoke left. It's hard to see—maybe that's why the solid chest colliding with yours draws a shriek from your lips.

Trashing out of his grip is futile, but the immediate response, as metal glistens from his arm. The fear is overwhelming, so much that you forget to breathe, screaming for him to let you go.

You think he's shushing you, but you can't really make out any of the words forming on his lips as your watery eyes flicker upwards, just barely making out the features of the man in the dark hallway.

A small spark of recognition ignites before it's shut down just as quickly. Blinding pain sends dark spots in front of your vision as something hits the back of your head. A metal pipe, a chair? Your thrashing instantly ceases, instead clinging onto the man's arms while the spots turn into pools, clouding the entirety of your vision.

You only feel someone's palm against your cheek, hear the faint sound of angry yelling, before you black out completely. Thank god.

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

"What the fuck happened!?" Stark shouts at the dozen still standing in the lobby with soot on their faces, still coughing to rid themselves of the smoke in their lungs twenty minutes later.

He has already gotten word of the shoot-out at The Bifrost, of the fire currently ravaging the restaurant and the buildings beside it. He already knows from Maria that Coulson is down. Bucky raged past him a few minutes earlier with his sister in his arms and Yelena running after him, now assisted by Banner up in the medical room.

"Rumlow. Rumlow fucking happened," Pietro says, half bent over to catch his breath.

The man is dead now. If he wasn't shot down by someone in the Odinson mob he would've been killed by the Stark's for what he did.

"He was the goddamn mole. Started shooting at all of us as soon as we entered—worked with someone else from the Odinsons," he continues, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.

"Fuck—goddamn it!" Tony yells as he hits the staircase, drawing a palm over his face. "Birdbrain and T'Challa was right."

"About what?" Wanda speaks up from where she's leaning against her boyfriend's chest. She's probably the most unscathed of them all. Fire is something that doesn't bother her all that much.

"They got back half an hour ago. Someone blew up one of their biggest garages a few days ago and stole my goddamn watch to plant it at the site," Tony grumbles, jaw clenching down hard. He's so fucking pissed off, and for once it's not at the Odinsons. "Guessing they didn't target our warehouse either."

The silence is speaking volumes. It's clear now that someone is trying to fuck things up between the Starks and Odinsons to fill the eventual power vacuum when they shoot each other dead.

"Well, Hydra is a bigger threat than we thought, I assume," Vision says, hand resting on Wanda's shoulder while his brows furrow.

"It's goddamn war against those godfucking people now—they killed one of our own, kidnapped one of our own, blew up a goddamn warehouse—"

"Tony."

The softspoken voice of his wife sounds from the top of the stairs, drawing the mobster's head right around to look at his beloved Pepper. She is the only one who can make him listen. And he always listens when she looks this upset.

"Scheming about revenge can wait. Banner have something he wants you to look at."

"Is it about the the girl?" Stark sighs, pinching the skin between his eyebrows. He seems to be two seconds away from blowing up. A man lost his life for this.

"Yes, but not like that. Yelena knocked his sister out back at the restaurant and Bucky's throwing a fit so Banner started looking at other things," Pepper answers, gazing down at the group watching her with attention. "Nat's the only thing keeping them from killing each other."

"Well, tell them to shut up. I want to look at the girl too." Tony waves towards the door before crossing his arms over his chest. Wanda and Shuri looks at him funnily, as if they're appalled by his lack of sensitivity. Tony sighs and rolls his eyes in answer. "But I suppose she needs to rest for a while more."

"Better," Wanda mumbles under her breath as they disappear onto the second floor.

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

"I. Didn't. Know!" Yelena yells, pushing at Bucky's chest out of frustration.

"She was wearing a goddamn sundress!" He throws his hands up into the air before nestling them into the mess of hair on his head, tilting his neck until he's watching the ceiling.

"She was hitting you, you asshole! How was I supposed to know that someone attacking you, and she was—"

"Darlings, lay it off, will you?" Wanda interrupts their screaming match with her soft voice, sending a knowing glance towards Natasha simultaneously who answers with an eye roll. "Why are you out here yelling when your sister is resting five feet away? Give her some peace and quiet, will you?"

"I've tried telling them that for five minutes," Natasha interjects, leaning against the opposite wall. She's been glancing over your way to see how you're doing every twenty seconds, since other people are so preoccupied with their anger to even think about why they are angry in the first place.

"Bucky—I get that you're angry, but she didn't know. She was just protecting you," Wanda says. Yelena's expression grows into a smirk, a mere second away from sticking her tongue out towards the man beside her. "And Yelena, don't fucking hit people with your gun without checking who it is first. Especially when those people fit the exact description of the person we're supposed to be rescuing."

A silence loaded with guilt and red cheeks lies thick between Bucky and Yelena for a dozen of seconds, one where they don't look each other in the eye but silently forgive each other anyway.

"Now, please, can we give this poor girl some space?" Wanda gives a pointed look towards Yelena. "Or at least be quieter. She probably has a concussion."

"She does," Yelena mutters under her breath. Banner said it was practically inevitable.

Minutes of complete, utter silence are shared between the now too many occupants of the room. People trickle inside every other second, as if this is the new tourist attraction of the town and privacy was never invented. But it's a moment of peace that is rare to find in these lives, and they know the peace will be short-lived when Hydra starts playing the real game and the Odinsons wake up to the realization that you are gone.

The first uttered word for too many minutes comes from Natasha's younger sister, who should be the last one to speak in reality, but is too curious to help herself. She has never had a filter, even in situations like these.

Yelena walks up to your bedside as if she's been held back, nearly pouncing on the opportunity. Then her movements slow down once she realizes people are watching, instead running her eyes over your figure with a critical gaze.

"Weak." Yelena lifts your arm, inspecting it while squeezing your bicep. "Could probably take little girl down in two seconds."

Bucky quickly pries your arm away from her hold and leads her a feet away with his hands on her shoulders and a deep scowl on his face.

"You are not tackling my sister down, Yelena. Again," he mutters, walking up to your figure to stand protectively by your side.

"Uh! I did not say I was going to fight your sister," she pouts, mouth open as if he just insulted her. "So protective, that one, don't you think?"

Yelena leans in towards Pietro who shakes his head in answer, rolling his eyes while crossing his arms over his chest. Natasha only glares with a sigh.

"Lena, be kind to her once she wakes up. We don't know what she's been through these past nine years," she tells her sister.

"You think so badly of me, sister. That girl is my new bestie. I have already claimed her," she answers, pointing towards your passed out body.

"You literally knocked her out an hour ago," Pietro says. Maybe to actually criticize her, maybe because she just called another person her new best friend.

"Not on purpose!" she answers, crossing her arms in defiance. "Well, I did not know it was her. Then I wouldn't have done it."

"Can everyone just leave?" Bucky seethes. His palm clenches and relaxes, breathing out deeply through his nose while trying not to break. He doesn't know if he's going to roar or cry, but he has a weak hold on his emotions and a breakdown is nothing he wants the others to see. "I want to be alone with my sister for one goddamn minute. Can you please do that?"

He gets no answer but the sound of people scrambling out of the room just as quickly as they entered. But Bucky doesn't feel like he can breathe any easier with the sudden overflow of space, because now it's just you and him alone for the first time in a decade. Right there on the bed, his little sister lies sleeping as if you weren't knocked unconscious. As if blood wasn't pouring down your face from a gash in your forehead an hour ago. As if he didn't cause an entire restaurant to burn down so he could get you back.

Bucky doesn't know what he will say when you wake up. He also doesn't know what your reaction will be. Will you believe him, that it's actually him sitting in front of you after all these years and not some weird dream? Will you be mad at him for not looking for you more, sooner?

He wants to sit in a corner and keep his distance, but he forces himself to set the chair down right by your side. Your hand is cold as he grasps it in his. You always were a cold child, so it would not surprise him if you still are. It's a weird concept—you technically being an adult now. You could do whatever you want in the world.

But instead of that thought and your hand in his being comforting, it leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. The aftertaste of all the ways he's failed you and all the ways he will fail you. Because Bucky is not a good person. You deserve a life where your only living relative can offer you something else than this. He doesn't want you to be surrounded by all this blood and danger and corruption.

At the same time, he could never let you go now. He made a vow to himself when he was younger to always protect his mother and sister. He might have failed you both all those years ago, but he's sure as hell not doing it again. You are not even leaving his sight now. Even leaving you around the people he trusts with his life feels unsure. Especially Yelena—she can talk about being new “besties” all she wants, but Bucky doesn’t know if he could ever relax with her around you. He’s still fucking pissed off even though he might have some understanding of where she was coming from.

But, fuck, he doesn’t know how to even talk to 19-year olds. How is he going to do this by himself? Bucky might have known you for ten years but the person you are now will be a stranger. He will be a stranger to you. You were a kid back then, and he barely remembers his childhood, so why should you remember yours?

Most of all you must be traumatized. Bucky doesn’t know how to handle traumatized people either, despite being one himself and surrounding himself with them daily. But they never talk about shit. He’s going to have to talk to you about everything—he needs to know every single thing they have done to you so he knows how many bones he has to break.

The thought of any harm coming to the little girl who used to jump into his arms and cry about her nightmares makes him sick. The girl who drew pictures of the cat she always wished her mother would buy and taping them up on the kitchen walls. One who wanted her father’s attention so desperately that she nearly burnt herself out by excelling in school and at home and at every single thing she did. That’s who you were when you were taken, and Bucky can’t really merge that person together with the young woman now laying beside him.

He is out on deep water without a life vest, or any kind of boat whatsoever, and he knows that there’s really only one person who can understand. The one person who has always showed up and shared his grief despite all the shit Bucky has put him through.

Bucky stands in the doorway, glancing over at your figure every other second as if you will disappear, while obnoxiously loud signals sound into his ears.

Too much time passes before that familiar crackling sound emits from his phone. Less than fifteen seconds in reality, but an eternity in his mind. His hands are shaking and he knows he should say something when he hears “Hey, Buck,” from the other side of the line, but it feels nearly impossible.

“Hello? Is everything alright?”

Bucky’s breath hitches as he gulps, lips parting to blow out a shaky breath.

“Steve?” he forces out.

“Yeah?”

“I need you,” Bucky says. And that’s all needed to be said, even though Steve has just finished a sixteen-hour shift and walked through a burning house and seen a man die from his burns.

“I’ll be there in twenty.”

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

TAG: @kneelforloki

#marvel fanfiction #marvel fic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fluff #bucky barnes x female reader #resurrection #loki x reader #thor odinson x reader

45 notes · View notes

mdzs-owns-my-ass-i-guess · 1 year

Text

@gwyndal

😄😁😣

Lan Jingyi hates rollercoasters. They make him dizzy and nauseous and tap into some primal instinct of "absolutely-the-fuck-not" that has him stay as far away from them as possible. He hates the ones with those huge loops and the ones that turn you upside down and he specifically hates the ones that spin.

So why is he being dragged towards the tallest, loopiest, spinniest in the whole theme park?

Because he's a prideful idiot who refuses to admit he's afraid. And also because Jin Ling bet him 500$ that he won't get on that rollercoaster and that's way too much money for Jingyi to turn down (not to mention, his pride would be irreparably wounded if he proved Jin Ling wrong, and that's not something money can fix).

"Jingyi, you really don't have to do this." Sizhui tries, patting Jingyi's shoulder comfortingly as they wait in line. "It's just a stupid bet. And if it's about the money, I can give you that 500$ myself and be done with it."

"I'm fine, Sizhui. It's just a rollercoaster. Hundreds of people get on it every day."

"You really don't sound convincing at all..."

"Come on, Sizhui, have a little faith in me. And anyways, weren't you the one who said it's best to face your fears head on?"

Sizhui sighs. "If you're sure... I just don't want you to do anything that you're not comfortable with. Especially not if it's just to prove a point."

Jingyi tries to give a reassuring smile, but it looks strained and a bit awkward to the point that it's comical. Sizhui taps into his Lan upbringing to hide a laugh and pretends to be staring ahead at the queue. Looks like they're next.

"You look like you've just seen a ghost." Jin Ling taunts as he generously pays for everyone's ride.

Jingyi glares at him. "Get your wallet ready, princess."

Sizhui and Zizhen sigh. Whilst they're excited for the ride and have been raving about it ever since they arrived at the fair, they know Jingyi is scared of it and find the bet ridiculous.

Still, Jingyi won't admit it and Jin Ling is being annoying about it.

The employee straps the four teens into their seats, and makes it a point to specifically ask Jingyi if he's okay. He's shaking a little and there's some cold sweat collecting at his temples, his grip on the metal handlebars making his knuckles white.

"I'm perfectly fine!" he insists, his voice a bit too loud and shaky. "Let's go!"

The moment the ride starts moving, Jingyi finds himself muttering prayers. If he gets out alive of this, he's never going to lie about his dog having eaten his homework, he won't ever let his room get messy again, he'll study twice, no, thrice as hard and he won't ever call Jin Ling a spoiled little bitch behind his back unless it was absolutely necessary.

He hears his friends laugh with excitement and point out how high up they are and how many things they can see, but he doesn't open his eyes to check for himself. He's just going to take their word and their happy giggles for it.

At the first drop of the ride, Jingyi feels like his soul has gotten lost on the way.

At the first loop, he wonders whether 500$ is really that much money after all.

The moment the rollercoaster begins spinning, he almost feels like he sees his life flasesh before his eyes.

But after that... he realizes it's really not that bad actually. It's quite fun, and he even opens his eyes to get the full experience. Before he knows it, he's actually enjoying this whole thing, screaming with excitement at every drop and loop.

In fact, he's disappointed when the ride is over!

"Can we go again? This was amazing!"

Jin Ling hands him 500$ and goes to puke in a trashcan.

#mdzs #mo dao zu shi #writing attempts #jl #ljy #lsz

33 notes · View notes

mogai-sunflowers · 1 year

Text

MOGAI BHM- Belated Day 19!

happy BHM! today i’m going to be talking about Bayard Rustin!

Bayard Rustin-

[Image ID: A black-and-white photograph of Bayard Rustin, a thin Black man with slightly greying, short frizzy hair. In the photo, he has a deadpan expression on his face and is wearing a black necktie, a white collared undershirt, and a black suit jacket. He is standing by a sign on a wall that says in large block text “INTEGRATION MEANS BETTER SCHOOLS FOR ALL!”. Below that, in small scribbled print, it says “N.A.A.C.P, PARENTS WORKSHOP HARLEM PARENTS”. There is another, smaller sign behind Rustin that is partially obscured by him, but what can be seen of it says “We refuse... another gene... how about... It is our...”. End ID.]

Bayard Rustin, a man who is frequently considered to have been Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.’s “right-hand man”, is a civil rights activist who has been largely erased from the Black history taught in schools, and from the general population’s knowledge and perception of the Civil Rights Movement- but he was an integral part of the movement, and his erasure has largely to do with the fact that he was openly and unapologetically gay.

Bayard Rustin was born in 1912 in Pennsylvania, where he was raised by a Quaker family who very early on instilled in him the principles of nonviolence, which laid the foundation for his involvement with the civil rights movement. At a young age, he was interested in civil rights and racial justice, and at first, the racially progressive views of the Young Communist League attracted him to join. Eventually, their politics changed and he left the league.

In 1941, he turned his sights to socialism by joining the Fellowship of Reconciliation (FOR), who at the time advocated for equal rights for all people (except, as he would later find out, gay people). That same year, he met two other men who would be influential in his life- A.J Muste, the leader of the FOR, and Phillip A. Randolph. With these two men, he helped propose the March on Washington that convinced FDR to sign the executive order that allowed Black workers into the defense industry, and in 1944, Bayard Rustin was arrested as a “conscientious objector” because he refused to sign up for the draft for WWII, to which he was staunchly opposed.

However, in 1953, Bayard was fired from his position in the FOR after being arrested and charged with “sex perversion” for having sex with another man. At the time, many people feared that open discussions of homosexuality would threaten the image and therefore ultimately the credibility and impact of the civil rights movement, so Bayard, along with many other Black queer people, were often targeted for their identities, either being forced to hide them or be careful with them, or having their identities completely used against them to disparage their credibility within the movement.

During the late 1940s, Bayard Rustin helped to co-found the Congress of Racial Equality, or CORE, which became one of the most central civil rights organizations in the civil rights movement. In 1947, he participated in FOR’s “Journey of Reconciliation” (discussed more in this post) which provided the blueprint for the Freedom Rides of the 1960s, which led to the illegalization of interstate bus segregation.

In 1956, Randolph, who had become Rustin’s mentor, urged him to meet with Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. amidst the Montgomery Bus Boycott. When Rustin agreed, he and several other key pacifists of the movement met with King and were instrumental in convincing him to more fully adopt nonviolence as a way of life. Bayard Rustin’s upbringing in nonviolence led to it being one of the cornerstones of the civil rights movement.

Over the next couple of years, Bayard became part of King’s “inner circle” of close associates within the civil rights movement. He held a key position in King’s organization, the Southern Christian Leadership Conference, which he had helped to found, and he was behind many efforts of integration. He helped to organize many key events, like the Prayer Pilgrimage for Freedom, and the Youth Marches for Integrated Schools. However, in 1960, he reluctantly agreed to step away from the SCLC and from Dr. King, because the Democratic Convention threatened to publish a rumor that King and Rustin were romantically and sexually involved, using Bayard’s orientation against him, if they followed through with a protest against the convention that they’d been planning. Bayard himself was very disappointed with the way King didn’t stand up for him, but he also acknowledged that it was probably best for the movement that he step away.

In the following years, he got involved outside of the scope of the SCLC. He did community organizing, and eventually, in 1963, he was reintegrated into King’s campaign through the Birmingham Campaign. It was then that he made his most notable and significant contribution to the Civil Rights Movement. He had strong organizational and strategic skills, and people who worked with him knew that there was no better man to re-energize the movement through a strategic march, than Rustin- and thus began the plan that brought to fruition Bayard’s previous plans of a march on Washington.

Many people involved were still against Bayard being involved- including John Lewis, a prominent member of the SNCC, and Roy Wilkins, a prominent chair of the NAACP. Their reservations were largely against both his sexuality and his previous communist affiliations, so it was agreed that instead, his mentor, Philip A. Randolph, would be elected to lead the march, so that he could then, in secret, choose his mentee, Bayard Rustin, to lead the march from behind the scenes.

So, within a time span of eight weeks, Bayard Rustin organized the infamous 1963 March on Washington. He spent those weeks incessantly writing letters and organizing with others. It was an extremely chaotic environment, but he was very focused and determined, and when the march happened, it singlehandedly re-energized the Civil Rights Movement and is remembered to this day as a monumental moment from the movement. From it, King’s famous “I Have A Dream” speech was born. Thanks to Rustin’s tireless efforts, the movement regained a lot of steam.

After that point in time, more people, including King himself, began to come out in support of Rustin, causing the accusations against him to lessen their effectiveness, although many within the movement were still against his involvement. For the rest of his life, Bayard Rustin remained a committed part of the Civil Rights Movement, and his contributions cannot be overstated. He was a proud gay Black man and he fought for his rights in the face of adversity from every angle.

tagging @metalheadsforblacklivesmatter @bfpnola @intersexfairy @cistematicchaos

Sources-

https://www.history.com/news/bayard-rustin-march-on-washington-openly-gay-mlk#:~:text=Why%20MLK's%20Right%2DHand%20Man,...and%20openly%20gay.&text=Jun%201%2C%202018-,Bayard%20Rustin%20was%20an%20indispensable%20force%20behind%20the%20Civil,...and%20openly%20gay.

https://kinginstitute.stanford.edu/encyclopedia/rustin-bayard

https://www.history101.com/bayard-rustin-mlk-right-hand/

#mogai bhm #mogai #mogai community #bhm #black history month #blm #black lives matter

32 notes · View notes

tctteredwings · 7 months

Text

if you’re hearing SOMETHING JUST LIKE THIS by COLDPLAY playing, you have to know AARON COHEN (HE/HIM; CIS MAN) is near by! the FORTY year old FLORIST AT SPRING TO LIFE has been in denver for, like, ALL HIS LIFE ON AND OFF. they’re known to be quite CHAOTIC, but being CREATIVE seems to balance that out. or maybe it’s the fact that they resemble ANDREW GARFIELD. personally, i’d love to know more about them seeing as how they’ve got those CONVERSE COVERED IN DOODLES, SWEATER SLEEVES PULLED OVER HIS HANDS, HIDDEN AWAY IN A CORNER SKECHING vibes. and maybe i’ll get my chance if i hang out around the RINO DISTRICT long enough!

tw: emotional abuse

ABOUT.

Name: Aaron Cohen Age: Forty Date of Birth: 16th October 1983 Birthplace: Denver, Colorado Occupation: Florist at Spring to Life Romantic/sexual orientation: Biromantic/demi-sexual ( slight-male lean )

Aaron's upbringing was fairly uneventful. He is the oldest of three and spent most of his time trying to stay out of the limelight, he never really had much interest in being noticed. He was the young child who would hide away under the kitchen table with a sketchbook and colouring pencils and refuse to come out until someone came looking for him.

In the end, whoever, that was where he'd thrive. His creativity became him and once he reached high school, he found himself a spot amongst the theatre kids working behind the scenes. He was put in charge of props and sets and would often stay after school to paint his designs out on large sheets of MDF, ready for his fellow students to find the next day.

He ended up graduating with amazing grades and for a couple of years chose to attend art school, even if he had no real idea of what he wanted out of life once education was behind him. Art was his calling it seemed, so it made a lot of sense.

He dated a little during college, although in the end realised he wasn't ever entirely happy with the girls he took home to meet the family. So in the end he simply gave up and focused on what he'd do upon graduating instead, on finding his way in the world. He discovered a newfound interest in plants and flowers and it wasn't long until he was signing up to night school to learn more.

During this time he was commissioning art online, hiding away at home most of the time, but it wasn't enough.

While at night school, Aaron met someone who, in the end, would very nearly destroy him. The relationship lasted for almost a year and at first, seemed like exactly what he needed. Six months in things changed, though, and it took him a long time to see what was happening and how he was being manipulated. With the help of friends he was able to get out, but it was a long time before he felt he could trust anyone again.

When he finally got back on his feet, he found himself a job at a local florist, mostly delivering bouquets to begin with. In his spare time he worked with charities to help those in abusive relationships find a way out, as well as raising money with his artwork.

Time moved on and Aaron eventually ended up at Spring to Life not long after it opened, working as a florist there. He's since come into his own and knows that was definitely his calling. He also volunteers at the theatre in his spare time working on sets and props.

HEADCANONS.

Aaron has always been creative, he can't help himself. Since he was able to, he's been painting pictures, making something out of nothing, and generally causing havoc.

He has a Maltese dog named Mari ( short for Marigold, his birth flower ) who goes with him absolutely everywhere.

Aaron is big on seasonal decor. No matter what you'll find him rearranging the inside and outside of his place depending on the time of year.

WANTED CONNECTIONS.

- colleagues - theatre friends - roommate - exes - best friend - close friends

#✧ aaron ( about )#chq;intro #emotional abuse tw

7 notes · View notes

i-mybrunettelady · 4 days

Note

From the profession asks: ele and mesmer 7 and engie 9?

ele asks are here <3

7. On a scale of ‘none’ to ‘I’m never even in the same room I appear to be in’, how many layers of illusions do they prefer to stay hidden behind?

ren: currently, zero. she prefers physical changes between personas for jobs, such as dyeing her hair and shit, and uses minimal illusions for fear of getting found out by other mesmers, even if she can hide her magic well. but she is happy where she is now, she has no reason to hide, so she doesn't wear any illusions and just appears as herself - as herself as she can be, anyways.

cass: likewise, zero. he's never been anything but modrem and he refuses, consciously, to hide his claws, horns and fangs, because he doesn't know what else to be. he's not a dreamer, nor a soundless. he's not welcome in sylvari communities, who would've clocked him regardless. he simply doesn't feel the need to, deep down.

9. What’s their engineering style? (for example; steampunk, magi-tech, futuristic, jade tech)

liv is very interested in all sorts of engineering; he started with more of a steampunk style, but he's looking into magi-tech (as he's come to accept his magic more and more) + he wants to make weapons that will actually suit their owners who might have magic, as well as jade tech.

one thing he absolutely keeps no matter what is the combo of aesthetics + efficiency of his designs. it's the iron legion upbringing speaking and you know charr like pretty weapons, even if their culture is very militaristic.

#gw2 #ask meme #renira sulver #cassposting on main #livion stormbreath

2 notes · View notes

terrence-silver · 1 year

Note

Does terry help take care of his kids? i know financially he does but would he help beloved with a overtired baby or a fussy toddler or even a semi rebellious teen?

---

I don't know; why do I think Terry Silver would possibly raise his potential kids even more than his partner does, even though taking over quite so much isn't necessary because when you're loaded, your options for childrearing become endless. You could technically send your brats away to some boarding school and almost never see them if you so choose. Perish the thought of actually raising them yourself! He explicitly wants to do it, though. Needs to. Like, I imagine the man is so particular, such a perfectionist, control oriented and deliberate that he wants and absolutely desires his permanent input made and refuses to leave things up to chance, because there he has it; young minds. Fresh blood. And they're related to him. They are him. He's them. He has all the right to do this. He has the only right, actually. He wants to leave his personal mark behind. He wants to teach things only he feels only he can teach and teach it best because his teaching is the best by default. Leaving that up to someone else wont cut it. He wants to relay things only he can relay. Leave as much of himself behind on his children as he can, like a literal imprint to the point he'll be possessive of their upbringing and education and very determined to create a collective of mini-me's until he can see himself reflected in his children's eyes, mannerisms, visage, values, core beliefs, mentality, habits --- everything. He wants to be involved in the process of molding. Creation. He wants to be in their minds. In their souls.

That is the true definition of a legacy.

Terry acts, typically, like a mother would or should.

Heck. He is Mother.

He might even be envious of someone having center stage over him.

He wants it all. Ideally, he'd have it all too.

Of course, that's a feat all on its own because this is a very busy man whatever the era is and people...legitimately wonder how on earth he manages and it does miracles for his image. Man's a multitasking, overenergized mastermind genius! Might end up on the cover of some magazine with only the highest of praises like any villain with excellent publicity would. Carbon footprint? Oh, yeah, he might preach it, especially in later years, while also not adhering to it in his own life. Silver and Sons. Silver and Daughters. Silver and Children. You name it. Whatever the variety, it casts an incredibly favorable public perception on him and excuses a great many things he does because he's a Patriarch of an All-American clan (albeit of a very dynasty oriented, elitist clan), and he'd lie if he said he didn't covet that immensely, even though mere surface level pride isn't the only reason he does it. He does it because he wants to. It is a privilege that belongs to him. He's a residential Von Trapp with a brood of kids around him and he relishes in it from literally feeding a toddler and not blinking as he watches them chew with immaculate, unflinching curiosity to somehow landing himself with the moniker of the 'coolest dad in the world' because he might've taught his teen how to scam the stock market and hide it too. Quite literally the opposite of a stereotypically neglectful, rich father because Terry is the opposite of uninvolved when he sets his mind of things truly. Entirely possible to find him in a dojo training a collective of kids of all ages and if asked if he's holding class and if those are his students he might just correct that 'Yes. But they're also mine. Mine mine.'

Oh, but wait? There's like...six of them. And all his? As in his...actual biological children? Is that what he meant by that?

Yep.

He might confirm with a creeping, unsettling smile.

Terry might deeply enjoy the implication that he not only somehow found the time to be a multitalented, hyper-wealthy overachiever and spawn so many times (and the hint at physicality and virility that comes with that) but that he also has the time to personally train them, teach them, spoil them rotten, garner their devotion to him, have them entourage him around like a miniature army, indulge in the joys of the corporate world and run multiple business too. Man's the type to take a toddler to work at Dynatox, put them on his lap in front of a great, big conference table and allow them to scribble over documents and paperwork belonging to a rival he doesn't intend to do business with and plans on showing it through all the doodling his three year old created as a way to honor the breaking of their understanding. A subtle (and weirdly adorable) way of saying 'fuck you'. Of course people are part endeared, part scared for their lives and employment under their boss. Who could ever criticize him anyway? Is it even socially acceptable without seeming heartless? Not without major consequences and penalization. Not without retaliation. Maybe he wants to personally change a nappy while on the phone with Hong Kong, yelling at his overseas employees, chastising them for their incompetence. Maybe he wants to blame them when his child enters a crying fit while he orders them to dump those twenty cisterns into the Gobi desert and hurry the heck up because Terrence Jr. is upset by their nonsense delays and quite frankly, Terry's patience is running dangerously thin. He might even chortle into his own chin afterwards due to how badly he made his agent on the line stutter while he bribes the same kid away from their gloomy mood by literally whatever they'd like best in the world.

Which country on this great, big decorative spinning globe do they want to see environmentally tampered with? How about Nicaragua?

Who's to tell?

I find it immensely believable that he'd do all this and more. His raising methods are very questionable, but this man is definitely smotheringly overpresent.

#terry silver #kk3 #cobra kai #dad!terry #terry silver as a father #terry silver as a parent #silver children #silver sons #silver daughters #silver family #dynatox

13 notes · View notes

bloodempire · 4 months

Text

ST. VITUS THE THIRD: BACKSTORY.

St. Vitus, 1518. St. Vitus the Second, 1754. St. Vitus the Third, 1922.

This specific brand of Malkavians are known, quite notoriously, to bear only one childer. One to bear the brunt of their curse, their disease. This disease has many names: dancing mania, dancing plague, choreomania, tarantism and—St. Vitus’ dance. St. Vitus' are known plague-carriers, and their proximity to mortals can sometimes cause minor outbreaks of a phenomenon long-thought deceased. Kindred, too, can be susceptible—but normally only when the Vitus' blood is ingested. These strange Malkavians love to dance, dance, dance—and they'd love for you to dance with them, until you simply can't anymore.

Dancing mania was a social phenomenon that occurred primarily in mainland Europe between the 14th and 17th centuries. It involved groups of people dancing erratically, sometimes thousands at a time and sometimes for weeks at a time. The mania affected adults and children who danced until they collapsed from exhaustion and injuries. One of the first major outbreaks was in Aachen, in the Holy Roman Empire (in modern-day Germany), in 1374, and it quickly spread throughout Europe; one particularly notable outbreak occurred in Strasbourg in 1518 in Alsace, also in the Holy Roman Empire (now France). There have been many speculations on what caused the dancing phenomenon, but nothing set in stone …

St. Vitus the Third was known, prior to his Embrace, as Freddie Campbell. Born in North Yorkshire in 1891 in a relatively well-off, financially, household, Freddie lived in modest luxury. His father, Graham Campbell, came from mixed Scottish and Thai heritage, and held loose connections with the unified Scottish-English royalty. This aided a pleasant upbringing. As Freddie grew older, he made himself a comfortable living in the realm of watches. Making watches, fixing watches, creating designs and innovations—the Campbell name was one muddled beneath a guild title, but one that locals recognised immediately. Freddie was a strong, charismatic individual, one that many felt allured by and towards.

World War I was declared in 1914; he sought enlistment in the early months of 1915. While part of him wanted the enlist shortly after declaration, others aspects held him back; it was only after he received a white feather, from one of the many women of the Order of the White Feather, to declare him a coward in public, did he feel compelled to finally relent. Unfortunately, after a physical examination, he was deemed unfit for military combat due to being “a physical woman”. Freddie was slighted, upset, ashamed. He sadly returned back to his work, but found things … different. He was very vague about why he was refused enlistment, which lent to people suspecting him of some kind of disease or ill-will that he was hiding. This resulted in a steady decline of interest in his work.

After the conclusion of World War I, in 1922, Freddie sought consolation in the United States of America. He felt like a fresh start was needed, and with the war behind them, he could seek something new and different. On their approximately five-week voyage, in the last week and a half, a strange passenger finally emerged from their room. The individual was in unique, brightly coloured garb, and spoke in unusual tongues. They spoke of their name, St. Vitus the Second, which earned them a few laughs. They smiled crookedly. They beckoned those who laughed at them, and abruptly broke out in a musicless dance. Those same people were flecked with amusement, but ultimately confused.

Before they knew it, they’d begun dancing too. Before anyone knew it, almost the entire passenger cluster erupted into soundless rhythm, jutting and jerking and flowing as though music toyed in their eardrums. Select few from the sailing staff sought to quell the dancing, only to end up roped into it too. Those who hadn’t succumbed to the dancing throes were asked to stay far away from anyone who dared even tap their feet.

Freddie was caught up amidst the rhythm. He was the one which succeeded, dancing for as long and as hard as their unusual conductor. While others collapsed, pained and exhausted, Freddie prevailed. St. Vitus the Second was intrigued.

Two days prior to them arriving in New York, Freddie was Embraced. He became St. Vitus the Third.

#st. vitus the third.#my art.#FINALLY DID IT ALLOW ME TO POST THIS... pain

2 notes · View notes