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shadowshrike · 2 years

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A Dimiclaude Golden Wildfire Part 2

AKA

How I would write an Emerald Moon equivalent for 3 Hopes

This is a reading of the game based on the premise that Claude admires Dimitri, both wanting the best for him and to be part of his life. It's meant to be a fun, canon-compliant story, but not what I think the writers were going for, much like the 'evil' reading I've done where Claude's true goal is to deliver Fodlan to his father in Shahid's place by crippling most of its existing power structures. This is a chaotic brain dump for my own entertainment, so I apologize if it's hard to follow.

Federation and Empire: The Armistice

To start Part 2, Claude has made himself a king. He hopes to better control the war at his doorstep with this power and to keep Leicester alive after the council proved too unwieldy for quick decisions in uncertain times. He's also worried about Dimitri since the Kingdom has been fighting both a civil war and the Empire. However, Claude hasn't been able to reach Dimitri due to his own struggles with the Empire and Leicester politics. He's in the dark about what his old classmate, one that he had a crush on once upon a time, is thinking.

When Edelgard sends him a missive before Dimitri does, Claude realizes he can't wait any longer. If he refuses her, Leicester will continue to be in the line of fire. If he joins her, he can buy time to find a better solution. It will also give him the chance to sneakily off some of the Empire and Church soldiers. He doesn't tell anyone, but he's personally not a fan of either party.

In that missive, she also plants a seed in Claude's head. Her stated reasons for war suggest that Dimitri's freedom from his guilt and station, his woes with Duscur and Sreng, and in turn, the obstacle that has kept Claude from building a proper relationship with the prince, might be fixed if the Central Church can't influence the Kingdom.

Since Claude's brief academy days, he's felt Dimitri was a fantastic person, both monstrously strong and too pure of heart to be real, but also a slave to his duty as ruler. Claude never was able to figure out how to shake him from it back then. And with the war, he hasn't had a chance for spies or summits to get more insight into the prince's woes. The Central Church angle, weak or not, could be a lead on how Fodlan could be made better for both of them.

Unfortunately, he doesn't have time to verify which of Edelgard's claims about the Central Church are accurate just yet. Claude knows that parts of it are definitely lies because that's what powerful people waging war do, but he's been leery of the church since he came to Fodlan and tried to reconcile their behavior with what he'd learned about in Almyra.

Claude doesn't personally believe removing the Central Church will do anything drastic, and he knows destroying it is not necessarily in the best interest of his new Federation. But his heart has begun to waver. It's a comforting lie that the church's demise would end Fodlan and Dimitri's woes. He could use more lies like that after Shahid's death.

So true or not, Edelgard's rhetoric against the Church is useful, and Claude relies on it to build up their new armistice and control Leicester's public opinion. He turns his allies against Faerghus and the Church by using Edelgard's effective rhetoric, pinning the blame for Leicester's strife on their new enemies: the Central Church who 'controls' them and the Kingdom who 'owes' them from their shared history.

Randolph's Death and a Change of Plans

Off to war, they march. A war that Claude has no intention of fighting. He believes he can adjust his narrative as needed once he gets some breathing room and go back to focusing on diplomacy with Almyra and the Kingdom. He'll kick the Empire to the curb as soon as his people are stable and make them forget all about his attacks on the Church and Kingdom.

But when he demands Randolph's avoidable death, Claude realizes the lifeboat he latched onto to save Leicester while the Kingdom was unreachable due to civil unrest has become an albatross around his neck.

He can't sneakily abandon his "allies" to dwindle their numbers for later moves. His own people will turn on him. Their integrity and morality are stronger than their tactical sense. Also, despite disliking the Church, killing all of them feels worse than he thought it would after he'd killed Shahid.

During Claude's troubled nights, memories of that battle become reminders of how much better Dimitri is than him as a person. Of how Claude may have accidentally burned the fledgling bridges between the two of them by proving how ruthless he can be.

So to clear his conscience and navigate his inability to double-cross the Empire freely, Claude's new goal becomes to finish this war as quickly as possible with as few casualties as possible. That means he needs to talk to Dimitri somehow and discuss their options. There will be no end to the war until Edelgard is destroyed or she runs out of reasons to attack.

Unfortunately, parleying with Dimitri on sympathetic terms while allied with the Empire is impossible. So Claude makes the only move he can to get close. A targeted invasion to reach him.

Claude prays Dimitri's old trust in his good nature and his schemes will still hold, even as enemies.

The Kingdom's Sacrifice

With Sreng invasions being business as usual for the Kingdom, Claude hopes an attack by sea will make things easier for him while keeping casualties down. Gautier would be gone, and the Kingdom are already experts at holding off the northern invasions, so they'd be unlikely to lose too many men.

To enact this plan, Claude demands boats from Almyra. That's not without its risks. Fodlan and Almyran relations could be irreparably damaged if his plan goes south. If either his dad learns about the secret conscription or his identity as an Almyran prince is found out in Fodlan while using Almyran troops, Claude's involvement could be considered foreign interference in a civil war.

But taking his countrymen isn't all bad risks. There's also the chance of getting Almyrans interested in Faerghus. As Nader notes, most of them have never been there. Claude hopes they can go from enemies to friends after the conflict, much like Holst and Nader. After all, everyone praises the martial strength of the Kingdom, and Almyrans are always excited to meet new warriors.

But fighting the Kingdom is harder on Claude's heart than he thought. Seeing the Margrave die a Knight's death protecting his friends shakes him. Choosing death to protect others is not something Claude would do. But Dimitri absolutely would do the same for his people.

Claude has always been awed by Dimitri's drive to save the people he loves at any cost, but now he's terrified by it as an enemy. If he missteps in the kingdom, he may have to kill Dimitri or the people Dimitri loves...and he'll never be forgiven.

Claude frets more the closer they get. Despite never being a religious man, he prays to anyone who will listen that Dimitri will remember their academy days and won't fight him to the last man. He prays that Dimitri will understand that Claude's invasion of Fhirdiad is a front. That he wants to talk but can't because of his armistice.

Claude purposefully holds off in telling Sreng about the Margrave's death, hoping they won't invade and cause more bloodshed while he tries to talk with Dimitri. When he calculated Sreng's attacks as being more inconvenience than deadly before, Claude wasn't counting on the Margrave being gone.

Attacking Fhridiad

When they finally meet face-to-face, Claude is relieved to see that Dimitri seems uninterested in fighting tooth and nail for the capital. He seems to understand that something is not right about the Federation being invaders.

The duel between the two kings is mostly for show. Dimitri makes no intent to break Claude, merely ruffle him while he waits to see what Claude has in store. Claude can't blame the man- Dimitri needs to make sure that any invading force knows the Warrior King of Faerghus is no pushover should he choose to go for their heads.

The day thankfully ends without major bloodshed, which gives Claude hope that Dimitri was testing his resolve and trusting him. Dimitri's little smirk after their altercation and how he walks away rather than fighting to the death all but confirms it.

As Claude is about to have the conversation he's desperately wanted for years, urgent news rips him away. Claude is suddenly forced to flee to protect his people. He's furious. He not only doesn't get to speak to Dimitri, but he's also once again stuck in his least favorite position: having to believe in luck and trust others.

He hopes Dimitri will understand what his retreat means since he's unable to risk leaving an envoy so deep in enemy territory.

Rhea the Scapegoat

Once the inconvenient crisis in Leicester orchestrated by a mystery enemy is averted, Claude finds himself without time to research his new enemy or contact Dimitri, much to his misery. A sudden summons from Edelgard to fight the Church and the main army of the Kingdom forces him to make another impossible choice.

Claude could let Edelgard die to end the war now and keep the body count down, but that would risk political blowback like with Randolph. Or he could help her, but he would need to find an excuse not to attack Dimitri seriously. He'd need something to keep his forces away from the Kingdom without betraying the Empire and angering his people. (AN: Ironically, this scene in the game is called "Plausible Excuses".)

The perfect scapegoat? Rhea. Claude could try to talk Edelgard out of killing Dimitri should Rhea die, pointing out that Rhea being gone would invalidate her stated reason for war. Should she continue the war after Rhea's death, it would give him the ability to march out to save Dimitri without violating their armistice.

The plan would be easy to pull off. Edelgard had already given him the propaganda machine to blame Rhea for Leicester's ills, and Claude's been pushing it mildly since the armistice started. He merely needs to repeat the rhetoric of heralding a "new age of freedom" with the demise of Rhea for people to follow him, whether or not any of it is true.

And if any of the claims about the Central Church not liking outsiders is true, he would need to remove Rhea anyway so Dimitri could build a relationship with an Almyran prince, complete the Duscur reforms he always wanted, and maybe even be free of his title of "King" so he can live as he pleases.

He knows it wouldn't be how Dimitri would do things, and he's not sure if Dimitri returns his feelings or would accept a life beyond service to his people, but Claude is willing to do anything to help Dimitri find freedom. What's one more death after his hands killed his brother? Whatever good she may have done for Fodlan, it isn't like Rhea is an innocent, anyway.

Surprisingly, Claude hears what he thought was an impossible option for him when he talks to the others. "Killing Edelgard would end the war" Lorenz says, but then he also says he doesn't want to kill her because she's their old classmate. Claude immediately points out, "so is Dimitri." After attacking Fhirdiad, he needs to seed in their head that the Kingdom isn't the enemy anymore. They need to forget the weak reasons he made up for the initial invasion to get close to Dimitri so his plans for a post-Rhea alliance are believed.

A Conversation with Dimitri

When Claude spots Edelgard and Dimitri fighting alone after Dimitri flees the battle at Garreg Mach, Claude rushes to intervene. He tries to get them apart. He can't betray Edelgard yet, but he desperately needs to stave off the possibility of Dimitri's injury or death.

It's within the strange magical distortion of time and space which follows that Claude and Dimitri finally talk. Claude turns a deaf ear to how killing Rhea will cause more strife, already knowing it is likely to be true, instead focusing on Dimitri's personal concern for him. He deflects it, of course, because the last thing he wants is to be another burden on Dimitri. Instead, he redirects their talk towards concerns about foreign relations and Dimitri being stuck with a role he doesn't want.

Claude blames the Church for it all - the strained foreign relations, the restrictive marriages - trying to use this ruse he's locked himself into to express clearly what he wants for the two of them. He loses his nerve eventually, cutting himself off as he starts to work himself up by talking about what Dimitri could do in this new world he dreams of, one where they could be together, free of expectation.

He wants to say that Dimitri's Kingship stands in the way of them walking together, and he can fix it. But as they talk, Claude is forced to face the reality that Dimitri's love and loyalty as King is independent of the Church. He will not be free when Rhea dies.

Resigned, Claude expresses the desire for friendship instead, sad that he's been forced to build this house of lies about a New World without Rhea that will inevitably crash down after she's slain. Hers will likely be merely another senseless death claimed by these battles. Still, Claude knows he must stay the course for Leicester to be free of the Empire.

Dimitri reflects Claude's want for friendship and a beautiful new world together too sweetly for Claude to stomach a response. It's a miracle to hear after all the harm he'd inflicted on the Kingdom. Dimitri truly is too kind for the likes of him.

In the end, all Claude can do is ask for a truce when they all walk away, hoping Dimitri will forgive him for what he must do.

Sacrificing Rhea's Life to Ally with the Kingdom

Claude uses his feelings for Dimitri to drive him to face down Rhea when he returns, telling himself and others that Dimitri will definitely choose Faerghus over the Central Church in the end. That, in fact, Dimitri wants them to dissolve the church by whatever means possible. It is the only way Claude can face that final battle now.

When he finally confronts Rhea, it's no longer about her real or theoretical crimes, no matter what he needs to say to his troops. Claude wants to see what the world would be like without her in it, not because he personally thinks she's responsible for all of Fodlan's woes anymore, but because he's dreaming of joining the Kingdom and finally being able to bond with Dimitri once she's dead.

As he strikes the final blow to the monstrous creature of light who was once Rhea, spinning an entire world of new mysteries to be unwound after this war, Claude mourns for those who clearly love her. Those who died or are left directionless because of his own mistakes, not hers. But Claude knows there is no other option. If he captured her per Edelgard's wishes, it would add too many variables to the "justified" nature of the war.

Rhea's death was the only choice in the end, even if it makes him sick to look in the mirror after it is done.

Whether the war continues or ends with Rhea's death, Claude's next move is to rush to Dimitri's side and pray he isn't too late to build something between them. How it ends afterward...that's up to you.

#fire emblem 3 hopes #fire emblem 3 houses #claude von riegan #dimitri alexandre blaiddyd #dimiclaude #headcanon #essay #please forgive this rambling mess

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7ban-sama · 1 year

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(Sorry if this has already been answered) Do you think Hanako is turning out to become the final antagonist? He's already been one in the pp arc, and doesn't seem like he has any wish to repent his choices. How yandere do you think he will turn out to be?

*waves hand* no need to apologize! I don't believe I've answered a question directly about this.

I kinda see what you're getting at, and, I've even joked about Hanako being 'the antagonist', since we repeatedly need to contest him at the climax of things. In this way, he does function as our antagonist for contained arcs, outright opposing our mains. More fancifully, Hanako is purposefully drawn like a brooding evil vampire, with his big cape and lidded, disdainful expressions, as he stands on rooftops. Menacing aura to him and all that. It's fun it's flirty it's self-aware. (AidaIro-sensei know what they're doing with the framing.)

Though... to clarify, I wouldn't necessarily think about him as 'the final antagonist'... even if we're going to continue to struggle against him. Even as he acts unapologetically, and in some ways, 'gets worse'... It's just ah, not so cut and dry.

In truth, I don't believe that any one character is the antagonist of the entire manga. I feel like the greatest 'evil' is society at large, and compounding with that, we must untangle individual character's resulting complexes stemming from society. It's society that says, kaii and humans cannot co-exist, all kaii are dangerous monsters. This is upheld by the Minamoto clan, and systems in place at the school. There are harsh rules enforced that keep everyone in line. As the rules are upheld, it becomes ingrained as 'fact' in everyone's minds (human and kaii alike) regardless of evidence to the contrary. There's a defeatism from both sides, that they are opposing forces that can never understand one another.

For example, it's the members of the Minamoto clan that look at Hakubo and see nothing but an emotionless monster. Oni are regarded as evil and mindless, because of their harming and consuming humans. Yet, we then also see the human village act savagely, ordering people be slaughtered and keeping young girls as prisoner. Humans harm humans and perpetuate the harm of humans. We even get, from the perspective of Hakubo, the fact that living with them was the same as living with the oni.

(⬆ This is a really important line... I always feel like this is Iro-sensei speaking to us through a megaphone.)

But regardless of how living with oni and humans is the same, the narrative perpetuated is that humans are the ones that are empathetic and capable of kindness, while oni are not. There's no means for Hakubo to reflect on his own experiences as they are happening... Tragically, he cannot contest these claims that oni are monstrous, because the Minamoto make him act monstrously.

Even if he ultimately cared about Sumire, and their relationship was a mutual one, he can't perceive this, because he was taught that it wasn't possible. It's why his own regret mystifies him. Normally, someone could understand that they're filled with regrets, due to having been in love with someone, but he cannot. He cannot recognize his own humanity...

The tale of Hakubo and Sumire really puts a pin in how they could have been happy together, were it not for society around them. This relationship would be seen as abhorrent, and beyond that, they were designated into roles they were never supposed to break free of, regardless of how they felt. Sumire could have sobbed and kicked and screamed about being a kannagi, Hakubo could've resisted being a slave. They both would have been hunted down and punished, equally, for rebellion. It is an unforgiving world. Your greatest opposing force here is society, and then following that, are the issues stemming from it, since these wind up ingrained in Hakubo.

*waves hands around wildly as i try and thread everything* You see, Hakubo and Sumire are a contained narrative that lays out our core conflicts and themes of this manga. This is like, a blueprint for what's going on with Hanako. The world says to Hanako: you're dead, you're a murderer, you can't ever live a normal life. It's impossible. You can't escape. You'll always be a monster. You are, objectively, bad for Nene to be around. If you tried to resist, you'd be put in place.

And Hanako's been in this system for decades by now, so I think it's just gotten to him. So the part 2 of this all is, Hanako himself fully believes he cannot simply love Nene. To Hanako, the identity of 'Yugi Amane' is dead, and what's left behind is warped and inhuman. And much like Hakubo, it's hard to contest this idea, because there's evidence that Hanako is dangerous. He really DID kill Tsukasa. He doesn't think or feel things a normal 13 yo would. All the lying and underhandedness stacks onto this. Doesn't he continue proving this to be true? Endless cycle.

So I suppose, I would specifically say that our final antagonist is... Hanako's self-hatred and inability to express or accept himself... This is what's keeping him from having a happy ending with Nene (and Tsukasa! 💜) and this is what would be the most satisfying to overcome.

With that in mind, as for 'how yandere' I think he will be... Well, imo we all should be hoping that Hanako can go 'all the way' with this side of himself. Through all this tragedy, and even as Hanako acts out... we actually must wish for him to act out MORE. He's not acting out ENOUGH! He should fully lean into his yandere heart!!! He's Not Quite There Yet... but I hope he can get there, someday.

Y'know, it's funny, I do think at his core he doesn't feel sorry for the bad things he's done... Having relished(?) in the shinjuu , and not REALLY feeling sorry for PP/Severance... Perhaps, unreasonably justified about all these actions. Yet also, I wouldn't say he's totally unencumbered by guilt or regrets either? It's complicated. What's going on inside of him, is conflicting, and that's why you see him so troubled, acting in mysterious ways. Confusing ways? I don't entirely doubt the authenticity of Hanako's severity when he is being self-hating and feeling as though he is dangerous. H-hmmm, how to say, it's like there's a Mr. Hyde in there, like 👅 Yeahhhhh I don't give a FUCK... I would DO IT AGAIN... I WANNA PUT YOU IN A BOTTLE... LICK THE OUTSIDE... HRhgiuhrghhhf!!! . and. ... Hanako is, observing his own thoughts/feelings like, 😭 GOD, WHAT'S WRONG WITH ME... [TO HIS LOVED ONES] GET AWAY... BEFORE IT'S TOO LATE......!!!

But what's actually making it worse is that he won't, just, lean into his nature, and be a crazed romantic... He bottles this all up and then it comes out all desperate and unchecked. Hanako is bargaining with his own desires of, nobility and selfishness, and that's what makes things like PP and Severance such a mess. Ultimately it's, neither so noble since he didn't manage to wordlessly, emotionlessly bow out of Nene's life, nor is it as indulgent as making her his forever. But it's like he can't meaningfully conceive of how to do either of these things...

Hanako doesn't want Nene to live in Shijima-san's boundary, he doesn't want her to forget about him, he doesn't want her to grow up and get married without him. He doesn't even want to kill Aoi-!! It's all just a means to an end. It's a half-measure. It perhaps, feels a little better than keeping everything inside, but it doesn't feel as good as rambling like a lunatic and grabbing Nene possessively. Y'know-??? But the glimmers of his true nature we can see through these actions are alluring, it begs for more questions, for further investigation... It makes you want to peel him apart and get the truth to finally leap out. Stop! Holding! Back-!!! (everyone yelling at him)

I think the circumstances that Tsukasa engineers, are DESIGNED to fully unleash Amane... to chip away at him, to force him to inhabit his nature. Hopefully, there'll be a point where it's not even a choice for Amane, he will simply have to act on how he feels. That's the dream.

In summary. I think-? Our GOAL is wanting Hanako to be a yandere, even more of a yandere than ever. He's been too tepid. He's held back too much, still. He hasn't even told Nene he loves her-!! That's crummy for a yandere... We need to get past the obstacles that are impeding his heart. Which are... society, and personal repression. It is those obstacles are 'our enemy'.

#☀️#💬#💭

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derekgoffard · 2 years

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JILLY COLIN FUSION??????????? :O!!!!!

BROOOOOO YYYYEEEEEESAAAAAGHHHHHAAAA!!!!!!🏃🏃🏃🏃🏃🤸🤸🤸🤸

((( Please please for the love of god IMAGINE THEM WITH A FANNY PACK THAT I FORGOT TO ADD💀💀💀 ))))

Mein GOTT....I am so glad u SENT THIS ASK BECAUSE I WANTED TO DRAW A JILLY COLIN FUSION SO BAD....😭😭🙏🙏 Haha

#i feel like i got a bit too much colin in there..#VHHV ANYWAY OMG CARO THANK U AGAIN SM FOR THIS ASK!!!!! 😭😭🙏 JILLY IS ALWAYS ON MY MIND SO IM SO GLAD I GOT TO DO-#-A FUSION WITH HERRRR😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭!!!!!!#this was MONSTROUSLY fun to make LIKE FR #it might be a while before i can get to the others though because i have to write a FAIL paper early 🧎#haha also i apologize if im really incoherent rn!! i am ZONKED #oc.stuff #colin midland #jilly #also tumblrs being all fucked rn so i hope the tags are ok (⁠´⁠ ⁠.⁠ ⁠.̫⁠ ⁠.⁠ ⁠`⁠) haha

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thesevro · 4 years

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77 degrees

nanami kento x reader smut word count: 1.6K words

WARNINGS: Explicit SMUT, degradation kink, shower sex

HEAT RISES FROM water pouring from the showerhead above, while a different sort of heat fans from your panting mouth.

But your body is warmer than anything else.

Nanami pulls you closer to him by the bottom of your curved ass. His entire body is wet. Though his fingers are slick with something different.

His eyes are open. He watches with the relaxed, lidded gaze of a sneaking predator. Listens to your moans with the ears of a panther.

He slides his tongue further into your mouth. You are wet against his chest. Pressed into him with his arms clutching you in a snake-like vise. Body naked. Blushing red all over.

You are the most appetizing prey he has ever feasted on.

Nanami kisses you until you can barely breathe through the hot steam rising into your nostrils and the water that has begun to drown you. He is a devilish predator gorging on snatched prey. Diving his tongue between your lips then sliding it out ever so slowly to let it warm the hot flesh of your neck. His teeth aid him in tasting every part of the sumptuous little meal he has, one made of quivering flesh and breathy moans of his name. He bruises you with his incisors. You squeeze his shoulders with each nip, tossing your head back to let him devour you further.

You say his name again, "Nanami... please..."

"What is it, darling?" he says. "Use your words."

"I just—ah!" You tremble, your thighs shaking around his hand. He thrusts three of his fingers into your hole. Diverts your attention from your words because he wants to play a little more.

Nanami slides his fingers out just as quickly as he slipped them inside you. Holds your hip to lead you to the wet shower wall. Your back touches the wall. You watch as his body follows yours to pin you to the cold tile. Every muscle bulges and ripples with his movements.

"Apologies, my love," he says softly. Gets a thigh between your legs and smirks ever so slightly as you rut once into the thick muscle of his leg. "What were you saying?"

"I need you inside me," you whine, grabbing hold of his shoulders to rut in slow, seductive motions on his thigh. A lovely sigh escapes him as he feels your hole clench on his thigh.

"How badly do you want it?" he asks. "You're going to have to deserve it."

You frown with palpable discontent. Then you pounce on him. It is your turn to be the prowling predator.

Nanami retracts his leg from between yours to lean into you as you pull him to you. You open your mouth to bite at his collarbone with unrelenting clenches of your jaw. Nanami savors the sharp pricks of pain. Lets you have your fun.

Then he snaps your head back with a hand behind your head and hefts you up so you lie balanced between his body and the wall. A hand grips your thigh in a vise, palm on the back of your thigh while his fingers press into the outside of your leg.

"You want it, darling?" He prods at your slick with his shaft. Slides his cock up and down your cunt but never slipping it inside. "Show me how badly you want it."

Although... he has a feeling he wants you more.

Your pussy twitches around the length of his cock as he thrusts it against you once more. Always teasing. Never meeting what you beg for him to give you with your eyes.

"Please, Nanami," you whine. He indulges in your touch, your sounds, your warmth. Tries to quell the desperation welling up so monstrously inside him he almost ruts straight into you without a second thought.

"Please..." He leans into your ear. "What?"

"Please fuck me."

He chuckles. "Of course, darling."

You gasp with the first thrust. Throw your head back into the wall. With your throat bare to him he cannot help but sink his teeth into the water-wet flesh there, nibbling and nipping with the hunger of an emaciated predator. Nanami's brows furrow. You've always been so damn tight.

He draws his hips back to pound another thrust into you. He takes it slow, but makes each rut of his hips hard enough to send you scrabbling for purchase along the wide berth of his shoulders. He presses his forehead to yours. You hook your hands together from behind his neck to pull him closer. Kiss him with an open mouth and a lolling tongue he licks with his own. Your eyes are closed. He keeps his open. He's always loved seeing you like this, seeing how easy it is for him to make a mess of you with his cock.

You twitch into him. Pussy squeezing his cock, his naked thighs meeting yours. Nanami revels in each clench of your pussy. Slams into you harder with each one, the sounds of his cock sliding into you so deliciously obscene. So wet. Fucking you is like sliding into a hot vat of smooth, exquisite butter.

He forces you to look at him, grasping your chin between his forefinger and thumb. You can barely focus. Barely see him with the sinful jolts of pleasure shooting up your core with each thrust he slips into you. Your flowering folds suck him in with an eagerness even you have no control of.

Nanami warms over with a sick sense of pride at your crossed eyes. He drops his head into the junction between your shoulder and neck. Lets his hand fall to hold both your thighs open.

The next thrust he pushes into you is a harsh pound that makes your body seize up in pleasure. You cry out. Try to push yourself away from him.

"N-Nanami!" You are only allowed seconds to relish the hedonism before he truly begins to fuck you. Your eyes roll back. Toes curl. It is too much. "Nanami, please! Stop. Slow down!"

He pays your begging no mind. For once, Nanami Kento decides to be selfish.

"You tell me to stop when you're moaning like that?" he says into your ear with the trace of a laugh. "When you're milking my cock like a desperate whore."

Your body seizes up again. You seem to enjoy the denigration. He pulls the words from his lungs without really putting much breath into them. They are airy. Not real truths.

As long as it makes you feel good.

He's so close he barely has to lean forward to tongue the shell of your ear. His chest presses into yours while he plays with you.

"As if I'll stop now," he says. "There's still so much I can do with you."

He wraps your other leg around his waist. The movement frees one of his hands. He looks down to calculate his movements even when he doesn't particularly have to.

Nanami groans out loud at the sight of his cock meeting your pussy. At the unholy way he can see his cock slipping right into your hole. It's so much of a stretch that your pussy glows a swollen red. Every nerve on his cock erupts at the sight. He nearly cums.

"Look at that," he says. "Taking my cock so, so well. Do you really want me to stop?"

Drool slides down the corner of your mouth. He asks the question again, more firmly this time. It takes several moments for the words to register, and when they do you immediately shake your head.

"N-no, no! Please, don't stop."

"There we are." His fingers slide over to tease your sopping folds. "That's how it should be."

His thumb works up from just above the point where his cock grinds into your pussy to settle on the swollen bud of pleasure that he knows will make you unwind quick and sweet as honey.

With his forehead against yours, he watches as you unfold before him, his fingers and hips never ceasing their ferocious motions. He watches as your eyes cross, then shuts his as he finally reaches his high.

The sounds of your love-making grow slicker. White spills from your convulsing hole. His cock softens with the last shallow, slow thrusts he slips into you. His eyes remain closed. He savors everything with his other senses.

The smell of sex is heady in your nose. Heavier in his. He pants. You do, too, tired breaths mingling with his.

When he opens his eyes, yours are still shut, and he takes this as an opportunity to apologize for the words that had slipped from him earlier. He runs a hand through your wet hair. Cups your cheek with his hand. Each action is worth a thousand apologies, but he says one all the same.

"Darling, I'm sorry for calling you what I did earlier. You're anything but a—"

"Shut up," you mutter. "Call me that again and I might just ask for another round. And I'm exhausted."

Well. That's new.

"Though next time I do not want to go that far," he says. "It is not right of me."

"Baby," you say, "You can call me your little cum dump or whatever else you can think of and I would still beg for you to fuck me."

"That is a... tasteless pet name." He shakes his head. "Who comes up with such degrading combinations?"

"William Shakespeare."

"Then I must be a better lover than he ever was."

"Don't make me laugh while you're literally inside me."

#nanami kento #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x reader smut #nanami kento smut #nanami #kento #nanami kento x reader fluff #nanami kento headcanons #nanami kento hcs #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #gojo #satoru #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru x reader smut #nanami kento x you #nanami kento x y/n #y/n

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giggly-squiggily · 2 years

Note

Any more ingo tk hcs? He's just such a perfect man I love him

This will be the last Pokémon content for awhile! (Unfortunately for the other Pokémon headcanons- I won’t be able to fill those. My apologies.)

Let’s (temporarily) end things with a bang with our train lover Ingo! (And Emmett- he deserves it too :3)

- Both Subway Masters would be considered Switches, but I think Emmett leans more towards the Ler side of things while Ingo leans more towards the Lee side.

- Both have similar tickle spots (ribs, belly, knees), but Igno’s more ticklish on his hands and feet while Emmett is more ticklish along his shoulder blades and neck.

- Ingo has a train whistle laugh that gets all wheezy and pretty while Emmett has more of a “chuga-chuga-chuga” kind of laugh. It’s full of snorts and hoots and if you listen close enough, it sounds like train tracks. (I’m sorry it had to be done).

- Okay okay- train comparisons aside: both men are equally dangerous on their own and together in tickle fights. When they pair up they’re monstrously good at bringing their victims to tickly glee! Ingo is more gentle with his tickles while Emmett is more rough. Both have decent accuracy when it comes to finding tickle spots and aren’t afraid to use it!

- Against one another; the battle can last for days! Usually Ingo gets taken down quickly by Emmett’s shenanigans, but if he’s in the mood to fight, he can hold his own well during their tickle wars. He’s more sneaky with them, fluttering fingers against Emmett’s neck while passing by or running a ghost of a finger against his shoulder blades.

- Emmett’s much more direct- he loves to randomly taser Ingo’s ribs before running away in childish glee. Sometimes he’ll just full on jump his twin to tickle him!

- Post tickles usually leave our boys breathless and giggly, but they had fun; so that’s all that matters in the end. Emmett likes to see Ingo smile more, and Ingo likes to hear his brother laugh. It all works out :)

I hope these were good!

#pokémon #subway twins #tickle #tickle headcanons #ingo #Emmett #headcanons #fluff

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femalechibiblogger · 4 years

Text

5 Underrated Cartoons That Were Cancelled Too Soon

1. Clone High

Clone High is set in a high school in the fictional town of Exclamation, USA, that is secretly being run as an elaborate military experiment orchestrated by a government office called the Secret Board of Shadowy Figures. The school is entirely populated by the clones of famous historical figures that have been created and raised with the intent of having their various strengths and abilities harnessed by the United States military. The principal of the high school, Cinnamon J. Scudworth, has his own plans for the clones, and secretly tries to undermine the wishes of the Board (Scudworth wants to use the clones to create a clone-themed amusement park, dubbed "Cloney Island", a decidedly less evil intention than that of the Board). He is assisted by his robot butler/vice principal/dehumidifier, Mr. Butlertron (a parody of Mr. Belvedere), who is programmed to call everyone "Wesley" and speak in two distinct intonations.

The main protagonists of Clone High are the clones of Abraham Lincoln (referred to as "Abe"), Joan of Arc, and Mahatma Gandhi. Much of the plot of the show revolves around the attempts of Abe to woo the vain and promiscuous clone of Cleopatra, while being oblivious to the fact that his friend Joan of Arc is attracted to him. Meanwhile, John F. Kennedy's clone (referred to as "JFK"), a macho, narcissistic womanizer, is also attempting to win over Cleopatra and has a long-standing rivalry with Abe. Gandhi acts in many of the episodes as the comic relief. Also on a few occasions, the characters that we see learn most of "Life's Lessons" the hard way.

Why it was cancelled: An article in Maxim Magazine depicting Mahatma Gandhi being beaten up by a muscular man sparked outrage in India. Clone High was caught in a crossfire when citizens in the country conducted internet searches on the Maxim article but also found out about the show's Gandhi character on MTV's website. This sparked an outrage in India over the show's depiction of Gandhi. On January 30, 2003, the 55th anniversary of Mahatma Gandhi's assassination, approximately 150 protesters (including members of parliament) gathered in New Delhi and vowed to fast in response to Clone High. Tom Freston, the head of Viacom (owner of MTV), was visiting the network's India branch and was "trapped in the building", according to Miller. In 2014, he recalled that protestors "basically threatened that they'd revoke MTV's broadcasting license in India if they didn't take the show off the air". MTV offered a quick apology, stating that "Clone High was created and intended for an American audience", and "we recognize and respect that various cultures may view this programming differently, and we regret any offense taken by the content in the show". Miller would later recall that executives at MTV enjoyed the show, and asked for the duo to pitch a second season without Gandhi. Lord and Miller's two potential versions of a second season included one that made no mention of Gandhi's absence, and another that revealed that the character was, in fact, a clone of actor Gary Coleman all along, and the show continued as normal. "We pitched that, and it went up to the top at Viacom again and it got a big no," he remembered.

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2. The Awesomes

The show follows a group of superheroes who step in and replace the members of a legendary but disbanding superhero team. Under new leadership, The Awesomes attempt to put themselves back together in the face of intense media and government skepticism.

Why it was cancelled: On December 17, 2015, Hulu canceled The Awesomes after three seasons and did not renew it for a fourth season due to low ratings. The Awesomes was the first time Michael Tavera composed music for an adult animated series.

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3. Invader Zim

Zim dreams of greatness. Unfortunately, though, he's hopelessly inept as a space invader. Desperate to be rid of the annoying Zim, his planet's leaders send him on a mission to infiltrate Earth, providing him with leftover, cobbled-together equipment. To their consternation, Zim succeeds in setting up a base on Earth and infiltrating human culture, posing as a human child as he plots the planet's downfall. Only Zim's archnemesis, Dib, recognizes that Zim is an alien, and of course, nobody believes Dib's claims.

Why it was cancelled: On the subject of why Invader Zim was cancelled, creator of the show Jhonen Vasquez said, "I could go on and on with variations of the most fantastic reasons for why the show was cancelled, but in the end, even I couldn't give you the whole and accurate truth for why the show got pulled," he wrote in a lengthy post on his website in 2010, nearly eight years after the show wrapped. "The most likely culprits are simply ratings and the sheer expense of the show, which was monstrously expensive at the time, especially when compared to more modern, flash-based savings fests."Nearly nine years later in 2019, Vasquez was interviewed by Syfy and said:

I never point to any one particular thing [as the reason for why Invader Zim was cancelled. The show could've come out at any point in history and I don't think it would ever really be appropriate... I think there's always horrible things happening in the world and genuine comedy comes from horrible things. At the time, it just happened to be things like Columbine and 9/11 and then people freak out because they don't want to offend anyone's sensibilities. It's a justified response to a certain extent; there's people who have been affected and they don't want to be reminded of this awful stuff… I just think that it did not jive well with Nickelodeon's image.

In an interview with Syfy in 2018, Richard Horvitz, the voice of Zim, was questioned about why the show got cancelled; he responded:

There's been a lot of rumors that have abounded for years about why Invader Zim was canceled. People think it's the Bloody GIR episode, because there's a quick subliminal shot of GIR all bloodied, but that’s not it at all. Nickelodeon knew about that shot and they didn't seem to mind. But what [the cancellation really was] is this plain simple fact: We had horrible ratings. There were two things that were going on in 2001. Our ratings were not doing well, our demographic at the time was not The Fairly OddParents demographic, which is what we premiered with, and we premiered to really, really good critical acclaim. But ratings-wise, the only real barometer [was the] target audience, 6 to 10 year olds, and I think that it was a little too much for that [demographic], and the parents also might have thought it was a little graphic for them. Our ratings never really got off the ground. One other thing that people often forget, is that the show premiered in March of 2001. By September of 2001, we had the horrible downing of the twin towers. Given the mood of the country at the time, I don't think people wanted to see shows that were about any kind of destruction or anything that had to do with someone trying to conquer the Earth.

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4. The Oblongs

A clever comic parable of society's ills, "The Oblongs" depicts the warped world of a bizarre yet loving family of have-nots who live in a toxic valley and can't seem to beat the caste system of the beautiful people living high on the hill. The animated series is based on characters created by author Angus Oblong ("Creepy Susie and 13 Other Tragic Tales for Troubled Children").

Why it was cancelled: Could not find a specific answer. The WB network just decided to cancel it even though it had good ratings.

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5. Wander Over Yonder

The series follows Wander, a nomadic and overly-optimistic intergalactic traveller and his best friend and steed, Sylvia the Zbornak, as they travel from planet to planet helping people to have fun and live free, despite the continuing encroachment of Lord Hater, one of the most powerful villains in the galaxy, and his army of Watchdogs.

The show's first season is episodic; there are very few strong ties between episodes, and they can be viewed independently of each other. In the second season, however, a more sequential story is introduced; as Lord Dominator begins to conquer the galaxy, the show's tone becomes more serious and the focus moves from stopping the rather incompetent Lord Hater to stopping the extremely competent Lord Dominator. As a result, the episodes are more closely linked and there are several developments in the overarching plot.

Why it was cancelled: The creators of the show were not given a specific reason, even though they had plans for a third season.

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#cartoon #animation #cancelled #clone high #the awesomes #invader zim #the oblongs #wander over yonder #top 5 list #Top List

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bourbon-ontherocks · 4 years

Note

1 4 20!!

Ooooh I love these, no question about faves, thank you!! 💕💕💕

1. What’s something that you like about your writing?

Probably that it makes me cackle to myself a lot tbh

4. What is something about writing that you’re proud to have improved at?

NO LONGER APOLOGIZING FOR NOT BEING A NATIVE ENGLISH SPEAKER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

This one is kind of meta though, in terms of strict writing, I'd say my ability to write a tighter POV, with a specific voice, and character's bias, instead of a general, POV-ish but sort of omniscient narrator (and I have to say that I owe a lot of that awareness to you and your writing ❤️)

20. Story idea you have right now that excites you?

Okay, I already mentioned it a couple of days ago, but this is what I'm on right now, so let's dig a little. I'm too lazy to look for the posts, but it all started a few months ago, I think it was on a discussion about High School/College AUs, and I was saying that I wasn't interested in those for Brio because I love their BAGGAGE too much, and @missmaxime replied that she wasn't particularly excited either with the idea of aging them down, but why not aging them up, and I was like "oh hey, nursing home AU!"

It was meant as a semi-joke and I never added this to any list of fic ideas but last weekend I found myself thinking about it and then all of a sudden, blam! Ideas! Situations! Plot! And now I'm deep within this... My original idea was supposed to lean a lot on the comedy side, with multiple shenanigans, but ngl it's starting to take an angsty turn as well (but there will still be shenanigans!). It's AU-ish, more like a 30 years post-canon reunion, and it'll have some strong Grace & Frankie vibes I think. Also it's is just super fun to imagine what happened to everyone, especially the kids (spoiler: I don't like Kenny.)

I already have two and a half chapters fully written and I'm outlining the rest, but I don't want to start posting anything while I don't have at least a full outline, because we all know what happens when I don't do that (hello, It's All Coming Back To Me... I'm really getting back at you, I promise)

Want a little snippet?

No. That would be absurd. She avidly details the tanned skin, the broad shoulders, a vision from the past, really, when he eventually turns his head glancing around the lounge area.

His eyes are brown, a color she's pretty sure is a shade lighter than—

Well, the opposite would have been monstrously unfair given this man's youth. Would have needed some Benjamin Button-like sorcery, honestly. And his skin is devoid of, well, ink. But there's — something.

He notices the way she's detailing his features, frowns a little at her total lack of embarrassment. She past that point in life years ago, to be honest.

"Do I know you?" she eventually croaks.

Positive writing thingy

#sothischickshe #writing ask #fanfic #writing #my fic #nursing home au #I mean it's gonna be angst with a happy-ish ending #and Idk if it'll be a fic for everybody #but it's very funny to play with #also I've stolen so many writing tips from you that I should be ashamed tbh #but as it turns out I'm not #I'm very grateful though #ty!!

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artnerd1123 · 5 years

Text

A Familiar World

A Terrifying Tempest ——————————————

Things weren’t always peachy in Roo’s early days. Aiden’s out of the house, and our favorite little paint cat comes head to head with something he’s never seen before. It’s more than a little scary.

This is a two part chapter! The first part is here!

The masterpost for AFW can be found here. The chapter post for AFW can be found here.

——————————————

oh? two chapters in two days? what am i, some sorta competent??? nah, i’m just riding on a wave of productivity. Happy to have this one out tho!!! ‘s about time i finished this ;w;

enjoy some fun times with roo and his feral form, y’all ;3

WARNING FOR BODY HORROR! if that’s not your deal, skip what’s between these ( ~~~ ) and keep readin!!!

————

Rain hammered against the villagers’ roofs. Thousands of its tiny droplets pounded against soaking wood. Lightning slashed through the sky, leaving jagged wounds of light against the ashy clouds. They vanished as soon as they’d come. Thunder roared deafeningly, like some monstrously angry beast. The wind howled back in fury. In the void-like darkness of the night, there were only a handful of people out, trying futilley to prevent the storm’s damage. All else stayed huddled in their dark houses. There was only one thing to do in a storm such as this. Wait it out. And hope that your fear didn’t invite it inside. For some, this was a feat greater than the squall. For some, the tempest outside was much more than a storm. For some… it was a nightmare.

————

Thoughts swirled around in Roo’s head. The thunder outside threatened to drown them out, but they hissed louder in protest. He trembled fiercely as he dug under the blankets on Aiden’s bed. No matter how much of his paint stained them, they were safe, right? He was safe there, right? Right? The little cat curled himself into a tighter ball. His ears pressed against his head, eyes squeezed shut. Why hadn't his originator come home yet? Had something gone wrong outside? Where was he? It was so dark, so loud, so horribly nerve-wracking. Where was he?! He desperately scrambled to calm his rising panic. It was like trying to stop the tide from coming in. Sooner or later, there’s nothing you can do to stop it. No matter how hard you hold on, there’s bound to be a swell that sweeps you away. Unfortunately, the water was getting higher. And Roo didn’t know how to swim. Wh-what’m I suh-supposed teh do? He whimpered, paws over his ears. Aiden’s not- h-he’s not h-heah- Move. Wh... what? The sudden impulse- no, urge- nearly brought his fear to a halt. Where had that come from? … For the first time, the cat realized his chest felt much too tight. His anxiety trickled back like a creek before a flood, bringing violent shivers with it. He didn’t like this. He didn’t like this at all. Get out. Run. His breathing picked up as he glanced around. Paint spattered blankets and darkness surrounded him. Where could he go? Where could he get to? Aiden- Aiden said he couldn’t leave the house right now- he couldn’t get out anyways! Have to go. Have to go right now. He couldn’t get enough air. Were the blankets starting to curl closer? He grit his teeth, baring tiny desperate fangs at the darkness. B-but where? I don’ know where i could- Go! NOW! GET OUT! The kitten pawed at his head, cringing at the claws that sliced through his fur. Why wouldn’t it stop?! W-where do I go I’ve got nowhere to go I c-can’t- I can’t! GET OUT OF HERE! Panicky whimpers started bubbling up from his maw, his fur following suit. It felt like his whole body was boiling. As if something was building- expanding- rising- like the ocean before a tsunami. W-why was he- what was he- wh- What’s happenin to me?! Where’m I supposed to go?! I’m- I’M STUCK! THERE’S NO WAY OUTTA HEAH-! NEED TO GO GO GO GO NOW RUN- The cacophony of wailing instincts and fear and terror was too much- too much- too much bad bad stop sTOP STOP I CAN’T I CAN’T I C-CA-HAN’T-

Roo felt something inside of him give a horrible, splintering snap. Everything suddenly stopped. It was just… silent. Numb. Jarringly disconnected. But only for a moment. Everything came crashing back down with a vengeance.

~~~

The little kitten let out a frightful cry as pain surged down its spine. Bubbles popped and roiled across its fur. It felt like the horrible flashes outside had come in- latched onto it- sent white hot tingling down all its limbs- the familiar thrashed about under the covers, just trying to get free. It’s head was a whirlwind of shrieking and agony. Nothing was processing besides pure panic. At least, not mentally. Magic was already at work. The kitten’s limbs began to stretch like taffy. It felt as if boiling lava was pouring all over it. Malleable and impossibly bendy, it’s arms and legs quickly stiffened into steely rods of bone. What began as tiny paws started sharpening into wicked claws. Each digit practically had a sickle attached to it- all the better to rend things in its path. Fiery limbs and flailing claws tore at the sheets desperately, hoarse gasps accompanying the ripping of fabric. A round of crackling sounded off from its back, and it shrieked again. It bucked and thrashed as the line of bones lengthened, making a stubby tail long and an aching body longer. The rest of its form was struggling to play catch-up. Ribs pushed out against skin, vertebrae poking up in a garish path towards its head, all the growth making a skeletal nightmare out of the once-fluffy kitten. From the crunch of its muzzle, it was clear that its skull had some reshaping to do. It’s screams were muffled now, but slipped out with increasing fervor. A stubby snout morphed into a slavering muzzle, baby teeth gnashing into deadly fangs. Big ears were shoved flat against its head, paint dripping down in a waterfall over ringed orange eyes. The blindness only stoked its terror higher. The thrashing became horribly violent, dumping the familiar off the bed and onto the floor. Shreds of the sheets clung to razor claws as it howled in pain. And just when it seemed things couldn’t get any worse... … The familiar’s form began shifting. Getting bigger. Taller. Swelling from an already-stretched foot and a half of agonized cat to a five foot horror panther. And all it could do was roar.

~~~

————

“There’s too much water coming in-!” “We don’t have enough lumber left for this-!” “We’ve just got to give it up and move people until the storm dies down-!” Shouts like these were barely heard above the deafening pounding of rain and thunder. The storm had come up so suddenly that a family’s roof caved in. Too much water, not enough time to put up spells. Aiden had been laboring alongside three other questors to get it fixed for hours- all to no avail. No matter what they tried to do, their magic sputtered out in the rain. The work just left them all shivering and upset. And, for whatever reason, Aiden was feeling sore. His chest in particular was bothering him. The more time he’d spent working, the more it was bugging him. He’d chalked it up to his lack of training as of late. Either way, it’d gotten bad enough that he needed a break. The questor took a moment to breathe, setting down a large wooden board. It was as soaked as he was, if not more so. Not the best for building at all. He sighed in frustration, swiping bits of loose hair off his face. He grimaced as his sopping hair stuck to his hands. Evidently, his waterproof cloak hadn’t helped. Revaew. This was horrible. As much as he liked water, he hated being drenched like this. They weren’t making any progress here. Looking to his companions, he opened his mouth to suggest they give it a rest- Only for a deafening roar to cut him off. Blue mist flared to life on his fists before he knew what he was doing, gaze instantly searching for the source. He couldn’t see anything through the driving rain, and hearing? He might as well have been underwater. What was that? Was it a monster coming into town? Now, of all times? A look at his companions yielded just as much confusion. “The hell was that?!” One of them shouted over the rain. “No clue!” Aiden called back. “Whatever it was, it sounds big and mad!” “Should we send someone over to check it out?!” Another yelled, gesturing towards the source of the noise. “Probably!” Aiden spoke up again, following their gesture. Was it on the same side of town as his house...? “Someone’s gotta take care of it before anythi-“ Another roar rang out through the rain. It was a horrid, desperate sound. A zing of pain tore through Aiden’s chest, stealing his words as much as the sound. He grimaced, gasping. What in revaew’s web was going- It was then that something clicked. The chest pain. In the middle of a storm. More work meant more time away from his familiar. His familiar, who got stressed when he… left… Oh. Oh no. The questor didn’t wait another second to process. He was off like a shot. Yelling an apology over his shoulder, he dead sprinted over the wet stone path. Puddles splashed freezing water all over him. From the way his boots slid with every step, it was a miracle he didn’t fall. The thump of his belt pouch on his hip was practically promising to leave bruises. But he didn’t care. All he could think about was getting back to his familiar. The third roar just made him pick up his pace. Dark house after dark house slipped by as he wove his way through the village. His place was on the edge. For the first time since he’d moved here, he regretted picking a house so removed from the main square.

As aiden ran the final stretch to his cottage, the squelch of mud beneath his boots had never sounded sweeter. He was drenched, dirt splattered, and had a nasty scratch from bashing his arm into a mailbox, but he was almost there. Rather unfortunate that the sight of his home didn’t have the same effect. The windows were dark and empty. The next roar was so much louder now. In a flash of lighting, he could see something big zip past the glass. Oh Revaew- was that Roo? His chest was already aching, but it was downright painful now. Putting on one last burst of speed, he made it to the door before thunder started to rumble. The questor nearly slammed into it, gasping. Thanks to a short overhang over the door, he was out of the rain. … And in more than a little pain. His lungs heaved desperately. His legs were on fire. His bruised hip and scratched up arm were throbbing. His head, too, had decided to ache. Sure, he was here. But at what cost? Maybe running that fast was a bad idea, he thought dully. However. It had gotten him there. And the mad dash was over. All he had to worry about now was getting inside. Adrenaline starting to wind down, he pressed an ear against the door. He could make out anxious yowling under the sounds of the storm. He flinched at a dull crash and thunk, grimacing at the accompanying cries. Yeah, he needed in. He needed in before Roo hurt himself. If he hasn’t already, he thought fearfully. Waving a hand from his head towards his feet, he muttered a quick spell. Water came rushing off him in waves. It sent a violent chill down his spine, but at least he wasn’t wet. After all, he wouldn’t be able to touch his son if he had rain clinging to him. Slowly, he took one more breath. He faced the door. A little grumble of thunder roiled across the land as he stared at the damp wood. One last hurdle to clear. His hand raised to take the handle. I’m here, Roo. With a soft click, the door slowly swung open. I’m home.

Everything was loud. Cold. Dark. So, so dark. No matter how many times it tried turning its head, how many directions it looked, everything was dark. It felt like it was suffocating. The loud rumbling and crashing wasn’t helping at all. The thundering of rain was grating on its ears. It couldn’t stay here. Lashing out, it roared again and again. Pleading- begging someone to come help. All that met it was pain as its paws and tail snagged on unseen assailants. They were everywhere! All around it! There was no way to run from them. And it tried. Oh, how it tried. It kept bashing into invisible walls. Smashing into obstacles. Roaring and thrashing and scrambling around in the dark. Slipping desperately into a new space, only to bash into something else. An unending nightmare with deafening sound. … Until something new cut through the cacophony. A creak. Long and soft, bringing a freezing draft with it. It froze, back arched. Fangs bared. Low yowls drifting from its maw. Smells tickled at its nose, but it was too worked up to identify them. All it knew was something had just walked in the door.

Aiden’s eyes widened in shock. Hand trailing to his face, he just… stared. He hadn’t known what to expect. Even with his memories of feral familiars, even after the pain in his chest, even after the shadows and yowls from inside the house… he had no idea. But he knew, instantly, what was standing in the darkness of his house. Or, more accurately… who. Roo. The questor stood silently in the doorway, across the room from a five foot long panther. Paint dripped steadily from every part of it, leaving streaks and puddles on the floor. Mangy fur stood anxiously on end. Fearful breaths hitched through deadly jaws. Though its eyes were covered in a waterfall of indigo, Aiden knew its gaze was on him. He didn’t know if he could move. The panther wasn’t budging either. They seemed to be at a standoff. But how long would this last? Minutes? Hours? Seconds? Someone’s gotta make the first move, Aiden thought grimly. Might as well be me. Holding his breath, he took a hesitant step forward. The panther’s ears flicked towards him. It curled its lips a bit higher, tail twitching. Aiden paused. Okay. One step at a time, then. Slowly spreading his hands, he tried for some words. “... hey roo. I’m back,” Aiden called softly. Where the step set the panther on edge, the voice received a warning yowl. Its spine curved higher, claws digging into the wooden floor. It looked like a skeletal fluffball with how much fur was puffing up. Aiden tried not to flinch. He just stood his ground. If he was gonna get through to Roo, he had to keep going. “It’s- it’s just Aiden, bud,” he tried again. “You know me. Nothing to be afraid of.” The name gave the panther pause. The sounds of driving rain seemed to fade as it thought. Aiden. Aiden. It knew that name. But… from where? Its brows furrowed, a halting yowl drifting from it. It wanted to keep the person away… didn’t it…? … then why did it wish they’d come closer? Aiden advanced a bit more. Gently, as the panther hesitated. Though it bristled again, it didn’t make any noise. It just crouched. Aiden eyed it uncertainly. “... you ok, Roo…?” he continued. “It’s alright. You’re safe.” The panther shivered. Meowed softly. Safe. It was… safe? The person… they… no, he was… was safe…? It’s tail curled around its feet. Nervous. Afraid. Aiden took another step. Nothing happened. Another. Nothing. Two more, and he’d be right next to the panther. He was almost close enough to touch it. Yet, he stopped. The panther couldn’t see. It was so afraid. He had to make sure it knew it was safe. He had to. “... roo…” he started softly, crouching down. “It’s okay. Really. Aiden’s here. Dad’s here. You’re safe.” The panther trembled. Another soft meow slipped out. A questioning sound. A skittish sound. It knew the person was right there. It wanted him closer. Please, come closer. Safety was nothing without him. Without… … without… Aiden. Silently, everything fell into place. Tears rose to Roo’s eyes. Aiden. Oh Revaew. Aiden. His body shook as he tried to process, little huffs bubbling out of his mouth. There he was. The familiar was back, but his fear had gone nowhere. It was still so dark here. He didn’t know what to do. He just shivered, pawing anxiously at his eyes. ‘Aiden?’ he tried to say, meows coming out instead. ‘D-dad? Aiden? P-please- please, i-i nuh-need help-’ The questor understood the moment Roo teared up. To call his sigh relieved might have been an understatement. He closed the gap without words. Pulling his familiar into his arms never felt so sweet. Roo latched onto him. Aiden did likewise. Just sitting there, quietly shushing the big kitty. “Dad’s here, Roo…” he murmured. He held Roo as his sniffles bubbled into sobs. “You’re safe…” He held him even as his painted form started running like a busted faucet. “You’re alright…” He held him as his body shrank down smaller and smaller. Held him as he morphed back into a scared little kitten. Held him as little paws clutched handfuls of his shirt. Just… held him. Eventually, Roo tried to speak. His little voice broke and mewled too badly to make out words. But Aiden knew what he meant. Cradling his familiar in his arms, the questor got to his feet. He shut the door with a small wave of magic. The mess could wait for the morning. They weren’t going anywhere but bed. Roo mewled again as he carried him back to the trashed bedroom. Aiden shushed him quietly. Gently. “You’re safe, Roodle,” Aiden hummed. “I’m here.” Carefully, he wrapped the kitten in a torn blanket. Good enough for now. Good enough to sleep. He settled himself up as best he could in bed. Just letting roo curl up on his chest, arms still cradling him. The rain was the only sound for a little. Ever present drumming from the sky. Roo dozed off easily.

After awhile, a bit of thunder rumbled over the house. Roo shivered in time, curling up tighter. “... mrr…” Aiden’s hand gently smoothed Roo’s fluffy fur. Tired. Half awake. But still determined. “I’ll be right here, Roo. Don’t worry.”

“You’re safe.”

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mysaldate · 5 years

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What are your thoughts on Gyokko? We didn't really get a backstory for him aside from the fact his art wasn't appreciated, so.... Do you have any hypothesis on his past?

I’m not sure if you’re asking for hcs or just a thought process but I’m feeling more into the later so if it’s hcs you want, please request again and I’ll get to you first so your wait is not prolonged.

Anyway, here goes my essay so buckle up, we’re getting started!

Edit: This got extremely long, so I’m adding Read More.

Out of all the Upper Moons, two in particular stand out as generally receiving as little attention as possible, those being Gyokko and Hantengu. Strange as it is in Hantengu’s case (since let’s face it, all his personalities aside from Urami are pretty damn hot), Gyokko might feel very understandable. He wasn’t given a human-like design and is about the collection of all weird things one could think of. But you know what, that’s exactly what makes him all the more interesting as a character.

First, let me get a proper look at his exterior. Because boy, oh boy, do I have a lot to say! Gyokko, in his usual form we get to see first and more, is all but normal. He’s a genie that comes from a pot rather than a lamp, eyes and mouths switched on his head and with a set of four tiny arms sprouting directly from the back of his skull, he certainly does look peculiar. His other form that has slightly more of what we appropriate as human but it still has some unsettling details to it. Aside from the whole... being a naga thing. His arms and hands in particular are monstrously large and there are webs between his claw-like fingers. His hair also grows longer and he sprouts what appears to be a beard out of nowhere. Then, of course, there is the fact that he has a snake tail with scales all over it. Right, his arms are also scaly. The particular difference between skin and scales as well as the fact that he’s missing both arms and legs in his usual form brought me to a simple conclusion – Gyokko’s human self must’ve lost his limbs before becoming a demon for one reason or another.

Given what we know about the Upper Moons, their ranks haven’t changed in exactly 113 years. We can assume that Gyutaro and Daki were the last ones to join them so Gyokko must’ve become a demon some time before that. Since KnY takes time somewhere between 1912 and 1926, that would bring us to the years 1799-1813 which is during the Edo period in Japan. By this time, the usual punishment in Japan was already tattooing but just about two centuries before, limb removal was a pretty common practise, even at the first offense. The Edo period started in 1603 and it took quite some time before the tattoo practise actually took off. Another interesting punishment to take a look at is what’s called fuzuke, a death penalty by drowning. That was in practise all the way till 1868. That would also be the period Akaza is from by the way. Either way, japanese law was fairly strict at the time and a lot of things could get you in serious trouble. I wouldn’t be surprised if an artist like Gyokko got himself into this sort of mess. Which brings me to my second point...

Gyokko is an artist whose art was not appreciated at the time. An artist who struggled to focus on the traditional way of art as it would seem based on how enraged he becomes just seeing how well Haganezuka can focus, although their respective art forms are very different. Now, here’s the tricky part. Impressionism, which is the style that seems most fitting to Gyokko’s portrayal (at least to me, I don’t really understand that sort of thing though so feel free to correct me), didn’t really spread until the Taisho period, that means 1912-1926. You may notice that this is exactly where we are in the current story in KnY so while that fits the current timeline, it tells us near nothing about Gyokko’s past, human life. And he’s not the only one who suffers from the timeline errors or oversights.

But unlike with Akaza, where his past is bound to a martial arts style that literally didn’t exist at the time, art is a tad more interesting. Since it’s been estabilished fairly early on that demons can shapeshift, it is entirely possible that Gyokko changes his form based on modern art trends. The only thing that seems to remain constant is his pottery since we know Muzan counts on it as a way to make money (bless the person who told me bits and pieces from the fanbook!!), thus it has to be a long-term thing. And then there is the goldfish thing...

Goldfish were first brought to Japan in 1502 and they were considered a very important symbol of wealth and a ward against illness and bad luck. They were originally reserved for important samurai families, later in the Edo period they spread among the aristocracy as well. Much like in China, the Japanese took their talismans very seriously and the goldfish were given the same treatment. If a talisman was proved to be fake, the seller of said talisman could be severly punished, depending on the range of harm done and the importance of the family harmed. But there was more to goldfish than just being amulets. Goldfish cultivation and the animals in general have always been linked tightly to japanese art. And not just paintings but also sculpting and literature. See where I’m going yet?

Gyokko has strong ties to both goldfish and art. The Muromachi or Azuchi-Momoyama time periods would both fit the corporal punishment being cutting off one’s limbs as well as the biggest goldfish craze when they were still being kept away from ordinary people. Goldfish cultivation is an art form that requires tons of patience and many errors before it’s possible to fruit some results. If there is also pressure from customers or if other art forms of a goldfish cultivator bring no money, the possibility of serious struggles is extremely high.

To sum it up, based on all of this, I believe Gyokko to come from the 16th or 17th century and I think he may have originally been a goldfish cultivator. However, not an awfully lucky one. Either he didn’t manage to breed the exact goldfish his customers demanded and was forced to steal to make his way through or, what I consider more likely, he’d sold a goldfish to a feudal lord who died or was met with misfortune soon after. He got blamed for this and was punished by getting his arms cut off. It could also be that his art of goldfish cultivation was considered insulting or heretic since there were very specific requirements for the colour of the goldfish in order for them to be considered good merchendise. If Gyokko chose to be just as striking and original as he is in the current timeline, it’s no surprise that he may have been considered a heretic. And that wasn’t really looked upon kindly as well. Either way, he kept his goldfish even after becoming a demon and even found a way to impliment them into his Blood Art, meaning they were clearly important to him even in his human life. I also believe he may have been sentenced to death by drowning based on the fact that it is literally a technique of his Blood Art.

I hope you’re satisfied with a response like this and I apologize for not citing my sources but at this point, I went through so many websites for this post alone that tracking them all back down would be a very time-consuming process and I’ve already spent a very long time on this. I hope you don’t mind it too much. It’s nothing hard to find if you know how to google though so I’m sure if there are any questions and you don’t feel like asking me, you can find everything out yourself!

Still, doing such a large analysis was tons of fun and I enjoyed it a lot! Gyokko is a very interesting character and it’s a shame we didn’t get to see more of him. If anyone would like me to analyse other characters in the future, feel free to hit me up but you may be on hold for a while!

#kny #kimetsu no yaiba #gyokko #kny gyokko #analysis #gyokko analysis

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hide-in-imagination · 5 years

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“Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell, Christmas Sucks (or perhaps not)” - A Simbar Oneshot

Helloo ⭐️ I finally finished this! I’m so excited, it’s been so long since I wrote something so light, and it’s also the first time I write a Christmas story, so I hope you like it. The title is supposed to be read at the rhythm of ‘Jingle Bell Rock’, by the way. And this story is an AU so some stuff is different from the show.

Now, I know it’s still November, but I wanted to show you guys this and see what you think. I don’t plan on posting it on my other sites for a while, so consider yourselves beta readers! I’d really love to know your opinions.

Without further ado, enjoy!

Christmas was the most depressing season.

Anyone who said otherwise was either lying, selling something, or was just too carefree.

Ámbar envied the last bunch, she really did, because she dreaded Christmas season. Where most people bought eggnog and tree ornaments and counted down the days to meet with their families and have a nice time, Ámbar bought herself a bottle of liquor and made her own countdown by drinking one good-sized glass every day.

Don’t take her wrong, it’s not like she hated Christmas or something. (And who could really hate getting presents? Even if you didn’t like them, you could sell them and get free money). She wasn’t an old grumpy lady, too bitter to find joy in anything. She was quite young in fact, only 25, with a college degree, a great job—basically at the best time of her life.

It wasn’t that Ámbar hated Christmas; it was that Christmas was the time of the year in which everything that was wrong in your life got highlighted like a neon sign.

Christmas season was the time when everyone was supposed to be happy, and excited, and just, well, be jolly. And it was that social dictamen of having to be happy that pointed out the stuff you weren’t so happy about. Like, for example, the fact that her parents were out in a business trip (as always) and only sent her a Merry Christmas through text message, or the fact that she couldn’t stop wondering if her biological parents were out there making Christmas arrangements with an offspring they did keep, or the fact that she would have to endure a Christmas dinner party with the cousin that she despised, or the fact that all her friends were going to be spending the holidays with their boyfriends while Ámbar hadn’t had a lasting relationship since a douchebag cheated on her with the previously mentioned cousin.

The icing on the cake? Her ex-douchebag would be there too because he was still with her cousin.

Honestly, the rest of the year Ámbar didn’t give a shit about all of that. Yes, her parents traveled a lot and had always placed some very high expectations on her, but they loved her, and they had spoiled her rotten in the material department, so she had always had pretty much anything she wanted. Ámbar always knew she was adopted so she had had years to come to terms with that and she was okay with it. The thing with Matteo (a.k.a the douche) had been a long time ago and it’s not like that relationship had been very profound to begin with. Her cousin Luna had apologized profoundly, many times, and even though Ámbar still found her obnoxious, she had buried the hatchet. And last but not least, Ámbar didn’t even need a boyfriend. She was happy for her friends that had one of course, but she was perfectly content on her own. She loved her job and having a relationship would just take time off her busy schedule.

Ámbar liked her life, it was a pretty good life, but like she said before… Christmas. The goddamned you’re-a-fucking-failure-if-you’re-not-conventionally-happy Christmas.

Considering her reservations, one would wonder why she was even going to the Christmas family dinner anyway. The truth was that, albeit her feelings about Christmas, she went every year, and the reason behind that was that it was her grandpa who held it.

With her parents always traveling for work, Ámbar had in big part been raised by her grandpa. He wasn’t like the typical grouchy old man who did nothing but complain and yell at the television. Her grandpa was the life of the party, an eternal young soul; in fact, she swore he had more spark inside him than her. She loved him with all her heart, and ever since she had moved out of the house to her own place, she made it a point to visit him at least once a week and attend the Christmas dinner party he threw every year at her old house. (No matter how painful those could end up being.)

So, like every year, she made her way to her childhood house earlier than everyone else to spend some time with her grandpa. Christmas carols were already playing softly when she crossed the front door. Her grandpa saw her immediately and received her with a strong warm hug that she happily returned. The instant he let go, he grinned widely at her and told her she looked absolutely beautiful, making her blush. Ámbar had put on a sleeveless red A-line dress with a bow on the chest (no one could say she didn’t have Christmas spirit like that, right?), accompanied by black heels. She hadn’t done anything with her hair (why bother, she gathered) and instead just let her blonde strands fall freely over her shoulders. She thanked her grandpa with grace (she knew there was no use in trying to convince him that she didn’t look that different from usual) and told him he looked very handsome as well with his black pants, white shirt, golden vest and bowtie.

She also praised him for how beautiful the house looked. He had done a really great job with decorations; every wall was filled with tinsel garlands, Christmas ball ornaments, and lights of different colors. There were also some Santa Claus dolls scattered around, and the Christmas tree in the corner of the living room was as huge and shiny and beautiful as always. She had also seen on her way in the lighted reindeer he always put at the front yard of the house. Ámbar remembered how she loved to climb on top of it when she was little as if to ride him (not when the lights were on, of course). She had continued to do so until her weight was too much and she had actually sunk its back a bit. She had cried when she noticed, but her grandpa had told her that it was okay, that now that dent made it even more special.

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

Over time, all the guests arrived at the house, slowly filling the place. This year, it consisted of three pairs of uncles and aunts, including Luna’s parents (whom Ámbar greeted kindly because they were actually very good people and she didn’t blame them for their daughters’ mistakes), one older cousin with his wife (who was pregnant, Ámbar noticed, and she congratulated them happily) and one older cousin with her four-year-old son and husband. (Last year, their son had thought it was funny to throw ball ornaments at her back when no one was looking. She internally prayed something like that wouldn’t happen again.)

Ámbar stayed talking with her grandpa until the staff he had hired for the event announced that dinner was ready. Her grandpa invited everyone to go to the dining room and take a seat at the large table, impeccably set and filled to the brim with different choices of salads and drinks.

Ámbar immediately pondered which would be her venom of choice for the night. Getting drunk at friends’ gatherings was normal, it could even be the point of it, but getting drunk at a family event could almost surely mean humiliation for the rest of her life. Therefore, Ámbar always kept her consumption of alcohol to one glass during dinner and one afterward. Just enough to endure hours of pointless small talk and, if lucky, manage to have fun.

Just as everyone had taken their seats, the front bell rung. Her grandpa told everyone to remain sited while he stood up to go open the door. He loved playing host. And considering that there were only two people missing in the reunion, it wasn’t surprising that he wanted to receive them.

“Luna!” Grandpa’s voice resounded vibrant and happy. “We were waiting for you!”

Talk for yourself, Ámbar thought.

Indeed, after about a minute of muffled conversation, Luna appeared through the dining room’s doorway. Late, as always. Ámbar swore her cousin was always running from one place to another, she seemed incapable to plan ahead and organize her time. Judging by how some brown strands had broken loose from the side braid she had put her hair in, that day was not an exception.

What did surprise Ámbar though was that Luna didn’t only arrive with Matteo like she said she would but also with another guy by her side. Did her little cousin have a harem now?

As Luna greeted everyone and apologized for being late, Ámbar observed the new guy. He was tall but not monstrously so; about 1.80 she’d say, with brown hair and eyes. His skin was tanned and he had a boyish look to him. While Matteo wore a grey vest and black-tie combo, the stranger wore a dark green checkered shirt over black fitted jeans. It made him look more casual, but not less groomed for it.

Luna, clothed in a pink dress so very like her, introduced the guy as Simón, a friend from College. Simón greeted everyone with a friendly smile and an awkward wave of his hand. His voice was smooth and nice. It was clear he felt weird about being there but tried to hide it. Not like anyone could blame him, being surrounded by other people’s relatives that had nothing to do with him. As everyone greeted him back politely, his eyes made a quick scan around the room. When they connected with Ámbar’s, Simón’s smile faltered a little.

It was a flash reaction, but Ámbar noticed. She felt a little proud of it too, but then she remembered that most people there was middle-aged and deemed that catching his attention was in fact not an achievement.

The trio sat down and it was only then that Ámbar noticed there had been three empty seats on the table. Apparently, Luna had told their grandpa in advance that her friend would be coming— And thank god for that, because grabbing another chair, plate, and silverware just for him while everyone else stared would’ve been very awkward.

After the food was served, one of her aunts, the one that liked to call herself sociable but Ámbar would actually call nosy, asked Simón why he wasn’t spending Christmas with his family. ‘If I may ask’, she added all politely at the end, as if she hadn’t already voiced a question that could very much make him and everyone else uncomfortable if his family had kicked him out of the house or something.

Luckily, Simón didn’t seem fazed at all. He just casually explained that his family had been stranded on another country due to a snowstorm, and since it had been with such short notice, he hadn’t been able to join them over there.

“Well, we’re more than happy to have you,” her grandpa said with a warm smile.

Ámbar felt a little twinge of comradery towards the stranger. The number one unwritten rule of the social dictamen of Christmas was that you were supposed to spend it with family. Just the fact that he had ended up on his own was sad, but it was also sad that apparently his whole family had gone on vacations without him. Did they have a bad relationship or was he just busy? Maybe he had a demanding job that he couldn’t abandon for a couple days? Maybe someone had to stay to take care of the pets? Did they even have pets?

What did she care anyway?

Well, since the whole ordeal would last a good couple of hours, she had time to kill— might as well spend it making up scenarios in her head about the guy.

And if she was 100% honest, he wasn’t a pain to look at. Not underwear-model gorgeous or sex-appeal-off-the-charts-let’s-have-a-one-night-stand-with-him hot; but he was cute. She liked his smile. And he seemed to smile a lot. It seemed genuine too, not a I’m-surrounded-by-strangers-smiling-is-my-self-defense kind of smile, but a real, happy one. It probably helped that no one tried to smother him with questions after the rude one her aunt made, allowing him to just enjoy the food and converse with Luna and Matteo. He seemed to really get along with them.

At one point, his eyes connected with hers and Ámbar rapidly moved her gaze away. Had he caught her staring? Well, she wasn’t exactly staring, it was just short glances she threw his way from time to time out of curiosity, but maybe he’d think she had been staring and that would be very embarrassing.

For the rest of the dinner, Ámbar made a point of not looking in his direction unless absolutely necessary.

-----------

By the time he talked to her, Ámbar had already picked the names of the three imaginary dogs he owned, had pinned him to be a social worker working in a very difficult case of child abuse because of which he couldn’t leave the country (the jury was still out, but she had faith he could win it), had picked imaginary jobs for his parents which allowed them to spend on plane tickets and accommodations abroad, and had deemed him single for at least six months now.

(The last part was only for her own amusement.)

After dinner, everyone had moved back to the living room to chat and joke around merrily. For about half an hour, Ámbar had done small talk with her relatives, but after the third comment from her aunt Susan about how at her age she was already married with children, she excused herself and moved to stand next to the snack table.

It was as she was nursing her already half-empty glass of wine that Simón came to stand by her side.

“Hi, can I join you?” He asked shyly. “You’re the only one who looks my age and I don’t feel like being the third wheel all night.”

Ámbar looked over his shoulder and yes, indeed, her little cousin and Matteo were flirting and being all adorable for some, cringe-worthy for others.

“Yes, of course,” she replied, showing a welcoming smile to make him relax. She spun toward the table to grab a small silver tray and offered it to him. “Christmas cookies?”

“Oh, thank you,” he smiled and grabbed a gingerbread man.

Ámbar put the tray back and played with the glass of wine in her hands only to have something to do with them. She stared forward, pretending to be appreciating the cheery view of people talking and laughing around the Christmas tree— Anything to not show she was nervous. Especially when she could see him staring at her from the corner of her eye. Was he checking her out? Did she want him to?

“So, um, Ámbar, right?”

Ámbar finally turned to face him. With his eyes focused on her, the fluttering in her stomach got a little stronger, but she managed to keep a casual demeanor.

“Yes. And you’re Simón?” She said more like a question than a statement, even though she had already memorized his name. He didn’t need to know that.

Looking a little more loosened now that she hadn’t ignored him or told him to get lost, he smiled at her and offered a hand in greeting. “Simón Álvarez. Very nice to meet you.”

Ámbar placed her glass in her left hand to shake his hand. “Nice to meet you too,” she said half chuckling, amused by the formal gesture. Judging by the way his smile widened, it had been the intention.

“So, where are the rest of the Álvarez?” She asked curiously and took a sip from her drink.

“In London,” he replied. “My mom had always wanted to go there, and everyone got excited with the idea of experiencing Christmas season covered in snow like in the movies, so there they went.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Looks like that backfired spectacularly.”

He laughed. “Yeah, it did. Well, it did for me. Them? I think they’re having a blast. They’ve sent me like a hundred pictures and my little sister won’t stop posting Instagram stories.” He chuckled and then sighed. “I wish I was with them.”

“Why aren’t you? I mean, why didn’t you go with them?” Ámbar asked and felt herself fill with anticipation. She’d finally get the answer to the question she had been turning around in her head all night.

“I would’ve loved to, but I had a concert with my band and I couldn’t abandon them.”

Okay, that is so not what she would’ve guessed.

Now the original question was answered, but Ámbar had a thousand new ones.

“A concert?” Was the first one that left her lips.

“Yeah. Not like a huge thing, we’re not very known… yet,” he added, whether out of confidence or to try and convince himself of it, she didn’t know. “But still, every opportunity is important and it’s amazing to connect with the audience. You know that they’re there to see you, that they could’ve chosen any other thing to do but they chose your music, and when they sing back the lyrics to you it’s just…” He took a deep breath and exhaled contentedly. “It’s really magical. I don’t know how to explain it. It’s great.”

All the excitement with which he talked and the sparkle in his eyes was captivating. Ámbar didn’t know if she loved something that much. She found herself wishing she did.

“So, you play?” She asked him, wanting to hear him talk more.

“Yeah, I play the guitar and sing too.”

Sing?

“Really?”

Simón chuckled lightly at her surprise. “Yes, really. Why?”

Because you can’t look like that and sing, that’s unfair, that’s illegal.

Stuck in denial (and even almost a little angry because, seriously, it wasn’t fair), she blurted:

“But Luna said you two met in College.”

It was only after it was out of her mouth that she realized how bad that sounded.

Lucky for her, he just laughed.

“You can study music in College, you know?” He said with an eyebrow raise. Thank god her foot in mouth seemed to amuse him.

“Yes, of course, sorry. How silly of me.” God, was she blushing? She’d better not be blushing.

“Nah, it’s okay,” he said laid-back. “It’s funny to be pinned as a College dropout who turns to music to rebel against the system.”

She wondered what he’d think about her version of his life where he was fiercely battling to take a six-year-old girl away from her physically abusive dad and alcoholic mother.

Not like she was ever going to mention that.

“I never said anything about rebelling. In fact, you look the complete opposite of a rebel. I’d know,” she said bringing her glass to her lips, “I was one.”

A glint appeared in his eyes and he crossed his arms, turning to face her completely.

“I’d ask more about what I look like, but I’m more interested in what you mean by you being a rebel,” he said, everything in his manner telling her that she had his full attention.

Ámbar just dismissed it with a shrug. “It was a phase I had in high school. Black clothing, dark makeup, dyed hair; you know the drill.”

He rose his eyebrows impressed. “Really? And what pushed you to go full emo?”

“Punk,” she corrected. “And it was a mix of things. A lot of changes in my personal life, including Luna stealing my boyfriend—”

“Oh.”

“—But mostly it was discovering that no one really like me.”

He frowned and his arms fell to his sides again. “What do you mean?”

Ámbar paused, considering whether she should tell him or not. It was a long time ago, but it was personal, more than she’d like to admit. And it wasn’t a very cheery conversation topic, she didn’t want to bum him.

She could’ve just said ‘forget it’ and talk about something else; it would’ve been easy... But something in his expression, in his gaze, told her it would be okay to tell him.

“I was popular in high school. Every girl wanted to be me, every boy wanted to get with me… I was very proud, and selfish. After the whole thing with Matteo, I found out that many people knew about his cheating and no one had deemed to tell me, not even the girls I thought were my friends. Everyone was even rooting for him, encouraging him to cheat on me because I was a bitch and I deserved it.” She took a sip from her glass, swallowing the bitter taste that remembering that time left in her mouth. “So I thought ‘Fuck it.’ If they think of me as a mean girl, then I’ll be one. I don’t need any of them.”

Simón stared at her looking deeply dismayed.

“Ámbar, that’s…” One of his hands reached up as if to touch her forearm, but he seemed to think better of it and lowered it again. “That’s terrible. I can’t believe not even your friends supported you.”

She shrugged. “It’s okay. Eventually, I came to realize that I pretty much deserved it. I wasn’t exactly nice. I manipulated people to get what I wanted, attacked people who got in my way…”

He shook his head. “That’s not excuse for everyone to stab you in the back,” he retorted emphatically. “If they had a problem with you, they could’ve come straight to you and say it instead of laughing secretively at you getting cheated on. No one deserves that.”

Her eyes searched his for long moments, looking for any kind of falsity or pity, but all she found was sadness and anger on her behalf.

No one had ever said that to her before. There was always a ‘but’: ‘Yes, Matteo shouldn’t have done that, but…’ ‘Luna made a mistake, but…’ ‘Ámbar, I know what I did was wrong, but…’

No one had ever taken her side like that.

After a while, she cleared her throat and lowered her gaze. The moment had stretched too long and the energy in the air had changed in a way that she couldn’t keep his eyes anymore.

“Well, it’s in the past. It helped me figure out who I am and who I wanted to be, so I think everything turned out for the best.”

“I’m so sorry that happened to you, Ámbar,” he told her genuinely. Then he paused, and she was about to change the topic completely when he added: “But I agree. You grew into a very amazing woman.”

Ámbar’s eyes jumped back to him, wide. His expression was earnest, just as before. It didn’t budge under her gaze nor showed it was a joke.

She felt herself blush and deflected on instinct. “You don’t even know me.”

“I’ve seen enough,” he replied easily, almost with conviction. “But feel free to tell me more about yourself,” he told her with a playful twinkle in his eyes, matching his smile. “Maybe you’ll change my mind.”

The obvious intent behind his word had Ámbar fighting to quench a smile of her own. “Or maybe I’ll bore you to death.”

“I’m willing to take my chances,” he told her, staring into her eyes.

The question was: was she?

Ámbar drank the last of her wine and turned to leave the empty glass on top of the table. She turned back around, playing with her fingers. She took a breath, opened her mouth—

“Oh my god, you guys, look!”

Ámbar almost jumped at the high voice, haven momentarily forgotten that there were other people in the room. She turned her head to see her cousin Sara smiling excitedly with an arm raised.

Ámbar frowned and looked up to where she was pointing.

Immediately, her heart stopped in her chest.

Hanging above her head, between her and Simón, was a green bouquet with white small berries that could not be mistaken as anything else but mistletoe.

Oh, come on! Ámbar screamed internally. Who hangs mistletoe right next to the snack table?! That’s like pushing literally everyone to kiss!

Then again, that might have been the strategic idea behind it. She could totally see her grandpa thinking it’d be funny.

Be that as it may, it didn’t change her current situation.

Ámbar lowered her gaze toward Simón and their eyes met. She could see his gaze drop to her lips and then move back up. He kept his eyes locked to hers, searching. A silent question.

Ámbar could feel her heartbeat going at a thousand beats per hour. He hadn’t moved a muscle and yet she was already that affected. She had been affected the whole evening if she was honest, and that scared her because she wasn’t usually like that. He was just a guy, she didn’t even know him, not really, and yet… And yet.

It felt like an eternity passed like that, with both just staring at each other, but it was probably no more than a couple seconds; it was her heart going into overdrive what made everything else seem in slow motion.

Then something changed in Simón’s eyes. The intensity disappeared and was replaced by something that looked like understanding. Ámbar saw him let out a breath (which made her realize that she too had held her breath at some point) and then a sweet smile formed in his face.

A second later, he leaned down and placed an equally sweet kiss on her forehead.

“There.”

Boos and complaints could be heard around the room, calling him boring, but Simón just laughed and appeased everyone with a smile.

Ámbar was left reeling. A lot of feelings mixed within herself: relief, disappointment, confusion, giddiness...

She thought he was going to kiss her. He clearly wanted to; she could see in his eyes. But he didn’t. Were many others would have, he chose not to take advantage of the situation.

That was what pushed her forward to grab his face, pull him down and kiss him on the mouth.

‘Woooo!’s sounded around them, but Ámbar lost focus on everything that wasn’t Simón’s lips on her own. He had been caught by surprise, but soon his mouth was moving with hers, discovering, tasting, and his hands rose to hold her waist gently.

It was the most tender kiss Ámbar had ever been given. She melted against the softness of Simón’s lips and got drunk on the smell of his cologne. Everything felt so wonderful she almost lost herself and deepened the kiss, but thankfully, her brain maintained at least some part of its functions and she was able to remember that they had an audience. And not just any audience— her family.

Reluctantly (and embarrassed, because she didn’t know how long the kiss had been but it most probably had been longer than necessary), Ámbar pulled away and opened her eyes. She immediately found his gaze and saw that his eyes were staring back at her with something that resembled awe. She became aware of his heartbeat under her palms, seeming to be trying to break free of its confines and reach her. Her own heart seemed to have similar thoughts.

It was the heartbeats that made her realize she still had her hands on his chest (they had fallen there at some point without her conscient knowledge) and his hands were still around her waist. Rapidly, she snapped out of it and took a step back, breaking the intimate embrace. She joined her hands in front of her and turned to everyone with a very practiced smile, speaking with a grace and casualness that she definitely wasn’t feeling.

“Okay, tradition’s fulfilled, show’s over, you can all go back to your lives now.”

She received a couple chuckles but people did just that, getting back to whatever they were doing before the public display they forced on her. Maybe she got looks from some of them, maybe not; to be honest, Ámbar had mastered long ago the ability of looking at a crowd without focusing on anyone in particular, avoiding eye contact flawlessly.

Even after everyone’s focus was somewhere else, Ámbar kept her eyes forward, unable to turn around and look at him. Awkward silence fell between them and she found she couldn’t bear it, so before she could stop herself, she started rambling out of control, words and words running out of her mouth in seemingly one breath.

“Why do people have to kiss under mistletoe anyway? I mean, where did that tradition come from? What does it mean? Does it bring good luck or something? Why would it? It doesn’t really make sense, does it?”

Simón, from his part, seemed barely articulate.

“Uh, I… I don’t,” he cleared his throat, “I don’t know, I’ve got no idea.”

“Yeah, me neither.”

Silenced stretched between them again, still awkward.

Simón broke it this time.

“I, um… I think I like it though. The tradition.”

Slowly, they turned their heads and met each other’s gaze. After about three seconds, both broke into a fit of giggles.

It was a nervous laugh, but it was the good kind of nervous. Ámbar hadn’t felt like that in a very long time, and suddenly, that wasn’t scary anymore. She liked it, and the fact he seemed to feel the same made her inexplicably happy.

When they stopped laughing, they just smiled at each other; simple and easy. Simón offered the tray of cookies to Ámbar and she grabbed one gratefully. He grabbed one for himself and both enjoyed them at ease.

So, okay, maybe Christmas wasn’t the worst time of the year…

Or maybe it just depended on who you spent it with.

…

#simbar #simbar fanfic #simbar fanfiction #simbar fic #My Writing #short writings

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losingitinjersey · 5 years

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And just like that, 10 days have gone by without a blog post from me. Please forgive my absence, it’s been quite a busy 10 days and I’ve had loads to say but haven’t made updating this space a priority and for that I do apologize. In an effort to update you on all the things, but not write a monstrously long post, let’s see how well I can walk that fine line.

All is well on the pregnancy front! I had my appointment on Friday, September 27th and while everything checked out fine with Erp I did get talked to about my weight. So that was not fun and it put me in a bad headspace of guilt and shame for a solid 3-4 days. I recognize the doctor was just doing what’s best for the pregnancy, which I should be too. I’m back on low carb and have lost about 5 pounds since the appointment. Lemmetellyouwhat - losing weight while pregnant is not as easy as pre-pregnancy. Especially as I’m about to enter the third trimester when the weight gain is supposed to come on. My next appointment is this Wednesday for my second round of glucose testing so here’s hoping that goes well.

Work and life have been non-stop busy but I’ll spare you those details and get right to the good/bad stuff.

Thursday I come home from acupuncture to have Kevin tell me he has bad news. During his rotation in the nursery unit he handled a very sick baby who had a virus that potentially could get passed to Erp and cause major deformities. So, I haven’t been able to as much as hold my husband’s hand let alone hug, kiss or sleep next to him for five days. I recognize it’s for a very good reason and I’m not about to risk Erp’s health, but fuck do I miss the intimacy of being held.

After we come back from dinner Thursday night we discover there’s water on the floor in random places and look up to see the kitchen ceiling is leaking. We investigate upstairs and discover an AC unit is spilling water all over the crawl space, soaking all the insulation and leaking down into the floor/ceiling. Immediately text my landlord and turn off the unit.

Right after we come out of the crawl space we get a knock at the front door and I go to open the door, assuming it’s the next door neighbors who are close with my landlord. I open the door to discover a police officer standing there letting us know that Kevin’s car that’s been parked on the street has received a complaint and we have 5 days to move the vehicle. The officer is very nice, which makes a huge difference but when it rains it definitely pours.

So, in summary - I’m fat and endangering my child, can’t touch my husband, there’s potential damage to the house (in the closet of the soon-to-be-nursery), and we have to figure out how to move a car that doesn’t run before it gets towed thus incurring additional fees.

OH - AND. Throughout all of this I am now getting severe leg cramps at night in both legs which are so bad they have caused my legs to no longer be able to straighten out so I’m shuffling around everywhere in extreme pain. I did previously say this pregnancy was a breeze so I guess it was my time for some suffering.

But - everything will be okay. The AC guy came out today (Monday) and it was an easy fix of flushing out a clog in a pipe. We’ve scheduled a donation pick up of the car for Wednesday morning (hopefully before the city tows the car on Wednesday - though I’ve called and left a message requesting a one day extension). Kevin is now on an away rotation in the Eastern Shore which makes not being able to touch him that much easier if I can’t see him. I learned that magnesium is the name of the game for leg cramps so I just took my first dose today and am waiting for it to make a difference.

OH - AND. I’m leaving for to go back home to California on Thursday for my first baby shower. So yeah, life’s been a bit busy. But it’s all good. I’m about to be surrounded by friends and family and while I’m not looking forward to being the center of attention I know I’ll be well loved and taken care of.

#so much for not a long post #pregblr #life shit #belly bump #plus size pregnancy #bump pic #ootd #vinyloftheday #leg cramps #pregnancy symptoms #saki #cats of tumblr #less than 100 days of pregnancy left #life update

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dingberg · 5 years

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Hey, I was wondering if the characters you make are for your own campaigns, or campaigns you play in. You inspire me to create my own unique characters and I was wondering if you had any tips on how to incorporate "complex characters" into a campaign. I feel like I'd just get on the DM's/Player's nerves...

First off, thanks for being the first person to ever send me an ask on here, lol. And you have no idea how happy I am to hear that I inspire you in any way, let alone to make your own characters and go above and beyond the call of duty with them. Apologies in advance for the massive response. I can be an extremely long-winded person when it comes to things I’m passionate about.

Anyway, all the characters I’ve made for D&D have been for player roles…never been a DM myself (but maybe some day). Unfortunately, your fears about getting on the DM’s / other player’s nerves by playing weird, complicated characters aren’t exactly unfounded. The DMs I’ve played with could talk your ear off with stories about the difficulties they’ve had dealing with my shenanigans. But despite all the trouble I cause, the DMs and players I’ve played with still really enjoy playing with me and love my characters (or at least that’s what they tell me). Here’s what I’ve learned from my experiences as far as your concerns of being able to flex your creative muscles and still get along with the other people who have to put up with you. These rules apply to any situation, but they go double for playing weird characters.

Rule #1: COMMUNICATE WITH YOUR FELLOW PLAYERS AND ESPECIALLY WITH YOUR DM.

This is probably the most important rule. It’s essential that you learn what the people you’re playing with are and are not ok with and to make sure you’re all on the same page. Because playing a nonstandard character not only puts added challenge on yourself, but on everyone else that has to play around you as well. So make sure your fellow players and especially the DM know exactly what they’re in for with your character and that they’re completely ok with it before committing to anything. And be willing to make concessions for them as well if they’re not comfortable with anything. Sometimes people will be apprehensive to go along with something they’re not used to, especially if they don’t have much reason to trust you won’t screw it up or do it for the wrong reasons. And there are things you can do to help ease those fears, but don’t push too hard, especially on your first time with a group.

The first proper campaign I was ever in, my DM wanted to limit it to only human characters for the first go around because most of us were inexperienced and he didn’t want to take any chances. But I wasn’t really too interested in the setting and felt I needed something to anchor my interest. I was really interested in homebrewing (still am) and had a slime character (Chu) who I designed for another non-D&D project but unfortunately got left on the cutting room floor, so I wanted to give her a chance to shine in this new setting. I don’t necessarily recommend anyone going this ham on their first campaign, but I’d been writing and designing characters for years before I picked up D&D, so I felt pretty confident that I could pull it off.

I knew homebrewing a completely custom race on my first campaign was definitely going to raise a lot of red flags, so I wanted to make things as easy as possible for the DM and help him feel comfortable that I knew what I was doing before asking him to trust me. I first asked what the setting was and made sure this character would actually fit naturally without compromising what the DM had already set up. Then I thoroughly studied the guidebook for the system and setting we were playing in and wrote up an entire guide going through every aspect of how this character would function both in terms of mechanics and lore (which years later turned into my Slime Guide that I’ve posted here). Then I pitched it to the DM to see if he’d even be ok with the idea, then sat down with him to go over my guidebook together and figure out what needed to be changed or rebalanced. When that was all approved, I talked to the other players and told them what I had in mind and asked if they were all cool with it, which they were. So we went ahead with it and we all had a blast with that campaign (literally…a lot of stuff blew up, my poor slime girl was traumatized).

You don’t necessarily have to go to such extreme lengths yourself, but just communicate with the others, make sure they’re ok with what you want to do before you do it, and be willing to make concessions and work with them to make sure everyone’s happy, because D&D is a collaborative effort and it’s not very fun for anyone if some people aren’t having a good time.

Rule #2: Try to put as much of the strain of dealing with your character on yourself and not on other people as possible.

Coordinate with the DM and the other players to figure out what their general plans are. Make sure you’ve got a character that will logically fit in with the party and the world they’ll be adventuring in, and will at least mostly get along with their fellow party members. Nobody wants to have to play babysitter and hold up the adventure or force their characters or world to behave in a way that’s unnatural or metagame-y to try to come up with some reason for the one character who doesn’t gel with anyone or make sense as a member of the party to not just follow the logical path and split from the party. Don’t be afraid to let your characters fight and have disagreements with other player characters here and there, but your characters should always have something that makes them fit into the party naturally and binds them with their fellow adventurers enough to overcome almost any fight or disagreement. Hell, I’ve had multiple situations where my character had a falling out with the party and almost left. But I always have at least one thread that will bring my character back on their own in case the rest of the party doesn’t naturally bring my character back themselves. Never put the onus on the DM or other players to keep your character in the party unless you’re prepared to lose that character.

Similarly, you don’t wanna play a character that’s just not going to fit in with the setting and will ruin the immersion for everyone. If you want to play a cyborg in a medieval fantasy setting, you need to have a good reason for it that everyone else is completely on board with. If your party is on a grand quest to help the local dwarf community raise money to build an orphanage, it’s probably not a good idea to play a character who despises dwarves and/or children. And if you want to play as a monster character in a setting where the average person is hostile towards monsters, your fellow players had better be playing some pretty chill dudes, and your character had better have some way to pass the time they’ll spend sitting out in the woods while the rest of the party heads into town to get supplies unless you’re real good at disguising your monstrousness or think you can outrun the crowds armed with torches and pitchforks (this actually happened to one of my characters, fun times).

Rule #3: Just follow basic etiquette and have fun.

It’s alright to make mistakes and accidentally step on someone’s toes every now and then. It happens to the best of us. Just establish at the outset that you first and foremost just want to have a good time with everyone and get along. Clearly establish your own boundaries from the start and respect other people’s. Make it clear that you’re willing to listen to complaints and concerns and work with people to resolve them before they get out of control, and absolutely make sure you behave in a way that people will be comfortable with bringing this stuff up to you and talking about it without fear of hurting your feelings or causing a negative reaction.

Basically, as long as you consider the feelings of your fellow players and DMs, do a good job of communicating, and make sure everyone is on the same page as far as boundaries and what they want out of the experience, you’re gonna be solid. Because even if you do screw something up, everyone should understand that it was just an honest mistake and know that you’ll learn from that mistake and fix it for next time.

It’s all about building trust (giving and receiving). Because people who trust that you know what you’re doing and have the best intentions in mind are gonna be a lot more willing to let you try out your crazy ideas and play along with them. I almost exclusively play weird, nonstandard characters and early on, every character I pitched was met with an exasperated “Oh my god, why do you do this to me?” from my main DM. But I consistently followed these rules, proved that I know how to make and play fun characters that have a positive impact on the campaigns they’re in, and built up that trust with my group. And now everyone has a blast playing with me and interacting with my characters. I’ve even inspired some of my friends to flex their creativity and delve into the weirder side of character creation.

Sorry again for the light novel, lol. I hope this helped you and anyone else that took the time to read all this. And I’m always open to answer questions!

#ask #advice #dnd #dnd character #d&d #d&d character

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chemicalmagecraft · 5 years

Text

The Gamer Hero, Deku Chapter 15

A/N: I'm back from the dead. Will probably update sometime next year. Have fun while it lasts.

Ultimate Pervy Sage: Yeah that happened offscreen. Figured it was implied and there wouldn't have been much else to the scene, so I didn't write the scene. Will imply that it happened, though.

jeanette9a: Bam, did it retroactively because I'm awesome like that.

Zane Tribal Tyne Alexandros: First off, thank you for the multiple reviews and I really wish I thought of the W.T.F. thing. Second off, as for Hagakure and illusions? Considering the fact that it's your suggestion, you tell me.

xoxoxo

"So now you have ten elementals?" Kacchan asked as we walked. We had a day off from school because of the USJ incident, so Kacchan and I decided to go to an arcade to have some fun and play games.

I nodded. "Yeah, with the six elements I got from Duality. I did all six rituals at once, actually."

"That was probably a fucking stupid idea."

"That's what Blaise said, though with more cussing."

"No shit," Kacchan said. "Seriously, what if that put you in a fucking coma!?"

I shrugged as we started to cross the street. "I felt less tired after summoning the higher my skill level was, and even beyond that Duality raised all my-"

I was cut off by a speeding van ramming into me. It made me take a step back and I took a hit to HP, but otherwise it was the van that was broken by the collision. I pried myself from the dent I made in the car and ran to the driver's side door. "Oh my gosh, are you guys okay!?" I asked. The door opened, and the man inside punched me in the face, which surprised me more than anything, and grabbed me by the neck. "Oh," I said as I felt him hold a knife to my neck.

"Alright, nobody move or this freak gets it!" the criminal yelled. His accomplices got out and brandished knives as well, though thankfully they didn't grab any other hostages. I heard a motorcycle coming.

Kacchan laughed. "You fuckers do realize that you just took the guy who unintentionally totaled your car by getting fucking hit by it hostage?"

The motorcycle sound screeched to a stop, and Present Mic ran up. "Hey! Stop!"

"We've got a hostage, jackass!" one of the villains jeered.

"Hi, Mic-sensei!" I said, waving at him.

Mic-sensei grinned. "Hey, listener! You okay?"

"I'm fine," I said. "Hey, can I ask you something about Quirk usage laws?"

"Sure!"

"I know people are allowed to use their Quirks to get out of situations where there is a danger to themselves, but I... don't actually feel threatened at the moment, so I don't know how legal it would be."

"I'll show you threatened!" the man holding the knife to my neck shouted, then tried to stab me. I say tried because apparently I couldn't be stabbed by normal people anymore, though to be fair the man was trying really hard. I noticed a text box that was probably the reason for that. It looked like I got it when I got hit by the car and just didn't hear it over the sound of metal hitting me. "The fuck?"

"What did I fucking tell you?" Kacchan said.

"I mean, they are trying to stab you..." Present Mic said.

"And let's just say," I continued, "that in my attempt to get away from the person threatening me with a knife I 'accidentally' incapacitate all three of them, can I be arrested for that?"

Mic-sensei chuckled and said, "Technically, you're good because you're being attacked by a weapon."

I nodded, then exploded into electricity. I arced through the three villains with exactly enough voltage to knock them over without causing lasting damage and reformed next to Kacchan. "That good?"

"Great! I'll need to snag you for a couple minutes for some paperwork, though."

xoxoxo

"Okay," I said, coming back to Kacchan. "So where were we?"

He stared at me for a bit as we started walking again. "You're fucking unbelievable," he told me. "You were just hit by a fucking car, then stabbed. What the fuck?"

"Physical Endurance prestiged and I wasn't actually stressed enough for Mantra to deactivate."

"Are you okay, kero?" a familiar voice asked me. I turned to see Uraraka and Tsu walking up to us. "That looked like it hurt," Tsu said.

"Thanks, but I'm fine," I told her with a smile. "As I was explaining to Kacchan, a passive skill of mine that reduces physical damage just reached max level, which means that I now take one fourth damage from any and all physical attacks."

Uraraka whistled. "That's pretty broken."

"Plus, because it maxed out, I got a new passive, Damage Reduction."

Tsu put her finger on her lip. "I think we already have a general idea, but what does that do, Midoriya?" She asked me.

"I'll have to test it, but judging from the description it removes point-five percent of my HP from all damage, which doesn't sound like a lot, but with my VIT that's a lot, especially combined with Physical Endurance. And assuming it levels linearly, that means that at max level it'll take an attack that does more than half my HP without the skill for me to actually feel it, which is pretty good."

"Deku's Quirk is fucking broken, who would have fucking guessed?" Kacchan said.

I chuckled. "Let's talk about something else, though. I take it you like space, Uraraka?"

"How'd you know?" she asked.

Kacchan snorted. "Gee I fucking wonder." Uraraka was wearing a galaxy-print skirt, a JAXA shirt, and a moon-shaped pendant. "Where the fuck did you get that necklace anyway? No offense, but isn't your family poor?"

"This?" Uraraka asked, pointing to the pendant. "It was a birthday gift from my cousin Shōta. He doesn't visit us often, but he always sends us stuff like this." She chuckled. "Mom's always worried he's spending too much on us, though."

"Though seriously, maybe you should've seen about staying with your cousin before you decided to get your own apartment?" Tsu said. "Didn't you say he lives somewhere near here?"

"You fucking what?" Kacchan asked.

Uraraka blushed. "S-so, my parents live in Mie..." Kacchan slapped his face.

"And that's why I brought Ochako-chan home with me, kero," Tsu said with a tone of... something in her voice. Annoyance?

Uraraka blushed a little. "I-it wasn't quite like that..."

Tsu nodded. "So luckily both of our parents were visiting yesterday-"

Kacchan glared at Tsu. "What," he demanded, causing Tsu to make a startled croak.

"My parents' jobs mean they aren't home all the time," she explained, a little faster than normal. "They leave me in charge of my siblings, but at the same time literally the entire neighborhood looks out for us, so don't worry about it, kero. They didn't leave us to fend for ourselves in an unfamiliar environment with no adult supervision Ochako-chan. So I may or may not have not been in the best state at the time, so because I was clinging to Ochako-chan we decided to just have lunch at my house. At some point Ochako-chan's... living situation... came up and now she lives with us. Our parents banished us from the house while they're moving Ochako-chan's stuff into our spare room. So where are we going, kero?"

"Kacchan and I were going to go to an arcade," I said. "You don't have to come."

"Nah, that sounds pretty fun and neither of us had actual plans other than the fact that I wanted to see if I could spot Ochako-chan's cousin in the wild, kero."

Uraraka made a little noise and pressed her index fingers together. "We have several thousand yen in coins, Deku's Quirk counted. Don't fucking worry about it, Uraraka."

"Thanks..."

xoxoxo

"Damn it!" Kacchan groaned after I beat him easily yet again in the old Street Fighter game. Tsu and Uraraka went elsewhere after Kacchan challenged me. "How the fuck are you so good at this all of a sudden, Deku?"

"Sorry, Tactician keeps activating," I apologized.

"Well I'm gonna fucking beat you anyways! Let's go again!"

I opened the skill boxes for Tactician and Mantra and read them closely. "Hang on, I might be able to cheat the system."

Kacchan snorted, then put another coin in the machine. "Whatever." I took a deep breath, then chose my character. As the match started up, I reminded myself that it was just a game, and that I didn't need the boost. Even when Kacchan got me locked in a combo, I never got the same feeling of clarity and rush of information that I became accustomed to with the repeated activations of Tactician. I just barely managed to beat Kacchan, and by the time I was done Mantra and Tactician both leveled up despite the fact that Mantra wasn't that near level up and I specifically didn't use Tactician. "I'll get you next time, Deku." He put in more coins for a rematch.

"So apparently Ochako-chan's actually monstrously good at fighting games," Tsu said once we were done. It was even closer, but I still managed to beat Kacchan.

"I might have almost accidentally used my Quirk on the machine once or twice," Uraraka added, blushing slightly. "That would've been bad..."

Kacchan stared at Uraraka for a moment, then popped some coins in the machine. "Right, I wanna see this. You and me, Round Face."

I don't think Uraraka had actually played Street Fighter before. She messed around in the character selection screen for a bit before picking a character at random. When the match started, she hit random buttons and just let Kacchan get some hits on her. "Oi Round Face, you're supposed to fight back," Kacchan said after stopping. "Have you not played Street Fighter before?"

Uraraka pressed the jump button a few times. "In my defense, my family doesn't have a lot of money, so I never really went to arcades. My cousin did get me a couple Pokémon games for birthday and Christmas presents, though." She started doing some attacks.

Kacchan twitched. "'Kay, no offense, but I don't really feel like curbstomping a total newbie right now. 'Specially one I'd actually be willing to call a friend. Might feel a little bad."

"Oh, don't worry. I think I've figured it out now." Without any more warning, Uraraka launched a near-perfect series of attacks on Kacchan. To be fair, I think it was more Kacchan's sheer astonishment than anything else that made him unable to fight back, but Uraraka still wiped the floor with him.

"Yeah that was my first match with her too," Tsu told me when the round ended. "The next couple rounds are even better." As Tsu said, the next round was a close win for Kacchan, followed by a close win for Uraraka in the tiebreaker. In the rematch, Kacchan didn't even win once, even if he came close. Kacchan's really good at Street Fighter, so that was impressive.

"Damn it. 'Nother round?" Kacchan asked.

Uraraka nodded. "I'm having fun." Kacchan grumbled, but put another coin in. That time it wasn't even close.

"How the fuck are you so good?" Kacchan asked.

Uraraka shrugged. "I have no idea but I'm not complaining."

"Right, much as I hate to admit it, you're too good for me." Kacchan looked over at me and grinned. "So's Deku, so let's see how you two fight."

"I'm fine with that if you are, Deku."

I nodded. "Let's go, then." Before we started, Kacchan cackled maliciously and whispered in Uraraka's ear.

"He told her some combos, by the way," Sonia told me. Oh boy. At first I tried to keep from using Tactician to be fair to Uraraka, but after losing a somewhat short first round I changed my mind. Even with Tactician automatically giving me both characters' entire movesets and each button she pressed on the controller, it was surprisingly difficult. I think that the only thing that let me win in the end was the fact that my DEX leveled up from the frantic button pressing and the Mantra I'd been using earlier.

"That was intense," Uraraka sighed.

"I know. Even with Tactician, you almost won," I said.

Tsu smirked and pointed at something. "Hey Ochako-chan. There's a flyer for a tournament over there. Says it's a week from now and there's a cash prize, kero."

Uraraka's head snapped over to where Tsu was pointing. "Cash prize?"

"Dammit, I was gonna compete..." Kacchan sighed.

xoxoxo

Aizawa Shōta sat up in his bed. Recovery Girl would probably have scolded him for doing that if she hadn't stepped out, but between her Quirk and the healing spells Midoriya had taught her, he was mostly just sore. He reached out with his good arm to grabb his phone from where Hizashi put it and opened up his photo album to a picture that he looked at often, even if he had a framed copy back home. It was twelve years ago, a few months before his mother's accident. She'd dragged eighteen-year-old him down to Mie for his cousin's third birthday, and they decided to take a family picture.

He sighed at the younger Shōta who looked like he'd rather be anywhere else in the world than next to his mother. His gaze drifted over to his aunt, uncle, and cousin. His uncle was a large, burly man with light brown hair, while his aunt looked almost exactly like his mother, though her eyes were a different color and lacked the ability to erase the gravity of whatever she was looking at. Even if his mother was older, they were always mistaken for twins. And his cousin... Sweet, young Ochako already looked so much like her mother, even as a toddler. The only difference was the age and the fact that she had her father's hair. Aizawa looked at a few later photos, pictures of Ochako that his aunt and uncle sent him. He laughed at a picture of Ochako with her sixth birthday cake all over her face.

"What are you looking at?" Thirteen asked him. He always thought they looked a little odd outside of their containment suit, all thin and with pitch-black skin.

"Pictures of my cousin," he responded.

"Ah. Your cousin. You never talk about her much."

"I don't talk to most of my coworkers in general. No offense."

"None taken. So what's she like?"

Aizawa thought for a moment. He really was too secretive. Perhaps it was the concussion or the near-death experience, but he felt like he should change that. "You've met her."

"Oh? When?"

"Yesterday."

Thirteen shot up, then winced and gingerly touched the bandages on their back. "Ow... Who was it?"

"The girl who asked for your autograph."

"Ah. If you don't mind me saying, I didn't exactly... get that impression from you two, if you take my meaning."

Aizawa shrugged, then winced from the pain in his bad arm. He slowly lowered himself back down on his bed. "I see you almost every day and this is the longest we've talked, after we both nearly died. My family lives in Mie. You do the math."

"I see. I always see you with Kayama and Yamada, though."

"I've been friends with them since I was a student here and they basically adopted me with joint custody. They keep dragging me out to do things."

"So she hasn't met you?"

"No, she has. I don't visit often, though, and the last time I visited... Was it really four years ago?" Thirteen stared at him. He couldn't really tell what they were thinking, their face was too alien. "I send them money, though. My family isn't in the best of financial situations, and they don't let me spend too much money on them, but I send as much as they'll let me."

"So if they live in Mie, where exactly is your cousin staying? Mie isn't exactly a short train ride from Musutafu..."

"I... Son of a bitch."

"They told you she was fine and you bought it, didn't you?"

"Shit."

They chuckled. "I take that to be the case." Aizawa reached for his phone again. "Do it later. Hopefully she'll be fine for a day, and if not then at least she has friends, right?" Aizawa nodded. She was getting along well with Tensei's brother. "You, on the other hand, won't be fine if Shuzenji-baasan finds out you've been exacerbating your injuries by yelling at your relatives over the phone." Aizawa blanched and lowered the phone.

"Do you... drink?" he said after a while.

"I think if I didn't I'd die rather soon."

Aizawa rolled his eyes, then winced because his eye still hurt. "I meant, do you drink alcohol? Sake?"

"Ah. Hang on for one second." They sat up slightly, enough to take a sip of the water by their bedside. Then they spat it out. "Are you sure you didn't get hit too hard?"

"Ha ha," Aizawa deadpanned. "I absolutely did, though. It made me introspective. Want to get a beer sometime?"

"Absolutely, but clearly only after the both of us are out of the infirmary."

"Obviously."

"You're getting out tomorrow, yes? I mean, Shuzenji-baasan won't like it, but with her healing you'll be well enough by then and you aren't going to miss your class, are you?"

"No, I won't."

"What will you do, then?" Aizawa picked his phone back up and reopened his photo roll. Then he changed the picture because the picture of Ochako with chocolate icing on her forehead was horrible for any serious insight.

He stared at the family photo from over a decade ago. Ochako looked so young, so happy. And yesterday, she could've died. Aizawa could've, almost did die, before she even got to know him. "Learn more magic, for one thing," he decided. "I'm going to talk to Midoriya."

xoxoxo

I sneezed. Odd, it wasn't that cold and I didn't have allergies. If I was more superstitious, I'd have suspected someone was talking about me.

"How the hell did you still manage to beat me at DDR that last time?" Kacchan asked Uraraka. "You were sneezing up a fucking storm!"

Uraraka sniffled. "I habe no idea."

"Right, I should probably take Ochako-chan home," Tsu said. "It's probably going to be dinnertime by the time we get home anyway. Bye, you two."

"Oh, actually!" I said. "Before you two go, could I ask a favor?"

"What's up, Deku?" Uraraka asked as she rubbed her nose.

I pulled a scroll out of my "pocket." "This scroll contains knowledge on the Illusion Barrier and Space Invader spells. When Kacchan and I defeated each of our bosses for the first time, we got scrolls that I could use to learn a skill related to the boss. We have no idea if it's a side effect of my Quirk or not, though."

"So you want to see if that happens if we go in without you, kero?" Tsu asked.

"'Course, we didn't give it to any of our classmates because my Illusion monsters were made of fire, meaning it's entirely possible for the monsters to counter the user's element. That's not really a concern with Round Face, though. I didn't see it in person, but I heard you were fucking awesome in the USJ. Protect Tsu, won't you?"

Uraraka beamed at the compliment and saluted Kacchan. "Roger!"

"And Tsu should probably be able to do something about whatever the fuck gravity monsters Uraraka's insane magic spawns."

"I'll take that as a compliment, kero."

"Yeah most of the time Kacchan compliments people like that..." I said. "You two will do fine, though maybe Tsu should get a water elemental?"

"Yeah, I got one, kero. I was gonna show everyone tomorrow. Though if I may ask, how did you have that scroll on you?"

I chuckled. "That's actually from an elemental that I recently summoned," I said.

"One of six," Kacchan interjected. "All at the same time."

"That probably wasn't the wisest idea," Tsu said.

"I KNOW!"

"Right, so as I said," I said, then sent a mental command to Sonia. She nodded, then "materialized" a pair of floating turntable-like devices. "Huh. At least now I know who was reading Homestuck on my phone," I thought. She started fiddling with the records and gave me a very Strider-like nod. She somehow managed to mess with my BGM in addition to setting up a very subtle noise distortion field like I asked. "One of my elementals, Juniper, can control any organic material, with enough control that she can turn part of a tree into a pre-written scroll. Add that to the fact that my most recent upgrade to Summon Elemental actually granted my elementals some of the benefits of my Quirk, which includes shared Inventory when in range of me, and I was able to get that scroll for you guys from a nearby tree."

"You really play it fast and loose with Quirk usage laws, don't you, Midoriya?" Tsu said. Kacchan snickered.

"Yeah, that's fair." I had Sonia cut the field, causing me to hear a scratch that was hopefully just my Quirk before the normal BGM resumed. "Right, good luck you two."

"Try not to die," Kacchan added.

"We won't," Tsu said.

Uraraka waved at us as she started to walk away. "Bye!"

xoxoxo

A/N: By the way, JAXA, unless I am very much mistaken, is like Japanese NASA. I've seen a lot of Uraraka fanart where she's wearing NASA shirts, but I figured JAXA would be a better fit because she is Japanese.

And you can probably tell from how I wrote the Street Fighter scene that I've never actually played a Street Fighter game. Also Uraraka secretly being a genius is a concept that I find deeply amusing for some reason. It started with a tumblr post I made wherein Uraraka won the stock market...

#bnha #bnha fanfiction #The Gamer Hero Deku #Gamer Hero Deku #GHD CH 15 #remember that post i made where i said aizawa and uraraka were cousins?

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basically-sera-blog · 6 years

Photo

No one expects the Cheerquisition!

I did two drawings to go with this. I’m not an artist. I’ve given up. Please enjoy, knowing that I have suffered.

Sitting in the gym waiting for The Iron Bull, Dorian can’t believe how much time he has on his hands. Since leaving the Imperium he’s been fleeing something or fighting someone or just trying to survive. Now he has a scholarship intact, no strings attached. He’s safe, he has a great boyfriend, maker, even his classes seem relatively easy now that he can focus on them. If he had one problem it would be...

Dorian’s phone chimes. It’s Bull, telling him the chargers have moved their practice outside to take advantage of the good weather. Dorian is invited to watch them run laps, but he won’t have anywhere to sit. Dorian sighs. If he had to have a problem, it’s that he doesn’t know what to do with himself. He loves Bull, and his friends are great, but Dorian doesn’t want to seem like he doesn’t have any of his own. He doesn’t, but he’d like that to appear intentional at least, or like he can occupy himself. If he keeps watching the chargers practice he might soon know all the rules of the game. Disgusting.

Dorian sighs exasperatedly. He texts back that he’ll be fine, and goes to put his phone in his bag. He’s thinking about heading back to the library and looking up old books on Tevinter history, the dirty kind full of affairs and intrigue. Something silver catches his eye.

This could be a perfect opportunity. Dorian pulls out five silver scarves and five gold ones. He’d stumbled upon a very interesting passage in one of his books about an ancient dance involving ten scarves and no clothing. He’d considered maybe, only maybe, learning it for Bull’s birthday. With the chargers gone, no one would come by here for hours, more than enough time for him to try out the steps. He’d put a workout outfit, well as close to a workout outfit as he owned, in his bag for this reason. He could... Dorian pulls out a crop top and shorts from the bottom of his bag. He looks around the still very empty auditorium. He could at least try it.

After an hour or so Dorian is sure he has the steps and reasonably confidant he can attempt them all together. He’s sweating, but he’s happy to find that his muscles still respond like he hasn’t spent a year writing a textbook against his will. He always liked the concept of dancing, of being able to move around with grace and intention. Now he could put all that ballroom experience to better use. Dorian plays something sultry on his phone, a monstrously long mix he created, and connects it to a little speaker. He might as well give it a go. He starts off a little awkward but it isn’t long till he gets into the rhythm of it. He has to keep his back curved, legs arched and angled to create the proper lines, one hand stays near his body while the other flickers the scarves distractingly, catching the light. As the scarves near his belt line begin to fall he has to switch hands quickly. It’s a dangerous dance, but he’s mastering it. Dorian’s hands move faster and faster and be begins to twirl as well, always keeping his eyes locked on a spot where he imagines Bull watching him, captivated. Dorian swings his hips and traces a hand down his body, fingers interlaced with silk scarves before immediately swapping hands again. The dance gets more daring, more acrobatic and he loses himself in it, imagining the look on Bull’s face. The song ends and Dorian smiles. He doesn’t know how the dance actually looked but it felt pretty amazing.

“Whoo! Go Dorian!” Kaffas. The voice that rings out isn’t one Dorian recognizes. He freezes. How much did she see? he lets out a sigh, steeling himself, and looks up. Oh no.

Standing in the doorway is not one person, but an entire gang of them. The woman in the front appears to be the speaker. Dorian must have been too focused to hear the door open because everyone is already standing in the doorway. Judging by their clothes all being school colors, and most of them being women, Dorian has an idea who they are.

The Inquisition is officially known as the cheer-leading team, a part of the student government, and the spirit committee but there are rumors.

“How can we be sure that this is Dorian?” Cassandra asks suspiciously.

“Of course it’s Dorian! He matches Bull’s description perfectly: adorable dork with the world’s best ass.” The woman in front, Trevelyan, Dorian thinks she’s called, speaks again. Dorian’s eyebrows shoot up. It’s true, mostly, but he’d never guess that Bull would describe him that way to other people.

“That isn’t remotely what The Iron Bull said!” Cassandra clarifies.

“He said Dorian is handsome and has dark hair, glasses, a mustache and tattoos.” Josephine assists Trevelyan.

“Which is subtext for adorable dork.”

“And that he’s very fond of him.” Leliana finishes.She has a softer voice and a pleasing accent. In her hand however is an almost sinister expensive black phone with a raven insignia, and she keeps periodically checking and updating it.

“Which everyone knows means world’s best ass.” Trevelyan wiggles her eyebrows at Dorian. Scout manages a snort while Leliana and Josephine merely smile. Dorian must agree with her, it is usually what one means. It’s nice to know that Iron Bull speaks highly of him. It manages to bring forth a small smile as well.

“Come now Trevelyan, that’s beneath you.” Vivienne retorts.

“Viv, Love, I was only joking. You must excuse my compatriot, she has an underdeveloped sense of humor.”

“I have class, darling.”

“That’s what I said.”

“At least she has excellent style.” Dorian joins in without realizing he’s doing it. No one seems to notice and they act as if he’s been a part of the conversation the whole time instead of standing awkwardly and trying to appear casual.

“Thank you. It’s nice to see you have good taste, despite evidence to the contrary.” Vivienne gives him a once over to remind him that he’s wearing a crop top, but her smile is genuine as well as mocking.

“Well, I’ll alert my posterior to the compliments and I’ll ignore the insult.” Dorian quips, “but I must say, I still have no idea what any of this is about.”

“First things first it’s about getting you, and that glorious dance, onto my cheer squad. We’ve been looking for something... distracting, to help out in the upcoming game.” Trevelyan somewhat answers.

“We’ve been investigating options since The Iron Bull’s injury.” Scout Harding volunteers. “It’s not that he’s not great, and won’t do great,”

“But every little bit helps.” Lavellan finishes from behind the group. She’s on tip toe trying to stay involved but doesn’t seem to mind.

“A change in depth perception can affect everything when it comes to sports.” Cassandra seems more in her topic element.

“We were looking at maybe doing something with magic,” Josephine says.

“But it’s dangerous, and potentially against the rules. if it isn’t against the law.” Cassandra interrupts.

“This could be perfect for what we need, dear.” Vivienne is looking at Dorian as if she’s already planning ahead. “With some nice clothes, some larger scarves, this could do the trick.”

“I don’t remember agreeing to this.” Dorian replies. The women in the group look at each other, trying to find something to say. There’s something in their eyes, something guarded. A part of Dorian stands on edge. He’s used to people with hidden agendas trying to

“They feel guilty that they didn’t help you. When you were being used and chased. They didn’t know, and they think they should have. They want things to be better, they want to be better. I’m sorry Dorian, I’m so so sorry. We’re supposed to be those people. The people that help. We failed you.” The pale boy, Cole, says. Dorian isn’t sure what to do, has no idea how to take that, but everyone else doesn’t seem surprised by the outburst. Cassandra looks away awkwardly. Josephine and Lavellan have the most pitiful looks on their faces. They must be the soft ones. The Qunari merely nods to Dorian, as if to confirm what Cole was saying. Leliana and Trevelyan glance at each other. This was probably their responsibility the most. Scout Harding just bites her lip and waits for the moment to pass. Cole seems absolutely content though.

“If you’re all trying to guilt me into joining the team you’ve failed.” Dorian says it lightly, trying to break the tension. It works. “I don’t think I’ll be joining any school sanctioned events any time soon, but since you’re all eager to help, and its for a good cause I suppose I could try to teach you. Now, which of you think you can actually learn the steps?”

Vivienne glides forwards, along with Lavellan and Josephine. Leliana, Adaar, Cole, and Scout Harding take the middle. Cassandra brings up the rear, looking like she’s been asked to drink poison.

Trevelyan hangs back for a moment, looking at Dorian with a million thoughts behind her eyes. He sighs over-dramatically to get her to ease up a bit. “I’m fine. Really. Apology accepted for not offering me help when I didn’t ask for it because I still don’t actually know you.” Trevelyan laughs.

“I... I am sorry though. I hadn’t realized how busy we’d become, how out of touch. I... if there is anything you need, a roommate change, help with a professor, blackmailing someone, anything, please let us know. Nothing is too big or small, and we’re not going to feel better until we’ve helped with something.” Dorian rolls his eyes for effect.

“I’ll let you know. Now, do you want to learn this or not?” Trevelyan walks over to the others and Dorian begins. His explanations begin technically, and the biggest shock is how quickly Cassandra and Josephine catch on. They’re vastly outdistancing the others.

“They’re amazing at math,” Scout says in way of explanation.

“Well that’s something.” Dorian sort of likes playing the instructor. Its more fun than he’ll ever admit to. Cole begins to master the movements, but the intention is beyond him. Josephine and Cassandra also find themselves too shy for the magnetism required and they decide to form the back. Adaar is shockingly willing to throw herself into the role of the seductress and seems to make it easier for everyone to loosen up. Dorian never imagined himself correcting forms and walking down the line like a drill instructor while wearing one of his shortest pairs of shorts, but the ladies don’t comment on it. Instead they listen to him, and with time it actually shapes into something. They’ll need more scarves though.

The opening of the doors signals the end of their... practice, Dorian decides to call it. The Chargers are surprised to find he’s not alone.

“Hey Dorian. When did you join the Inquisition?” Krem asks before a wicked smile lights up his face. “Wouldn’t that just be too perfect, head cheerleader dating the captain of the basketball team?”

“Who said anything about head cheerleader? If anyone is going to be,” Vivienne already has her hackles up.

“No. We’re not doing this again.” Adaar shuts her down soundly.

“Agreed.” Cassandra says in exasperation. There’s obviously a story there.

“I’m more of a... consultant.” Dorian decides.

“On what?” Bull asks as if he really wants to know while Krem and the chargers seem more confused than anything.

“Early Tevinter history.” Trevelyan jumps in easily, giving Dorian a look. The Inquisition won’t give him away, the look says.

“Early Tevinter history... and cheer leading?” Krem says slowly.

“We’re very well rounded.” Josephine continues. the Iron Bull seems to pick up on the fact that there’s something they’re not saying.

“Well, I just came to see if Dorian wanted to grab dinner with me, so maybe we’ll head out?” Bull looks at Dorian, who only now realizes he’s starving. Also he’s barely dressed.

“Um, yes, of course. Let me go change.” Dorian rushes to the locker rooms. Bull watches him and blushes, clearly taking a mental picture, but waiting patiently. He’s probably also hungry, but he politely doesn’t mention it.

“Well Cremisius, unless you have any other questions or suggestions we’ll be heading out as well.” the Inquisition closes ranks while Lavellan and Josephine giggle together. Krem probably knows something is going on but has the sense not to do anything more than watch them suspiciously.

Once Dorian has changed back into something more covering and adequately ripped and cut when he hears a quiet knock at the door. Dorian opens it a bit but sees no one there. The knock comes again from... the other door? Dorian opens the door going outside a smidgen. It’s Cole. Of course it is. Who else could have gone around the building so quickly and quietly.

“Yes, Cole?” Dorian does like him, he’s sweet, but Dorian isn’t in the mood for any horrible revelations tonight.

“The chargers and the Inquisition.” Cole seems a thousand miles away, looking at something Dorian doesn’t see. Dorian wonders if that’s going to be it, as Cole pauses there long enough for Dorian to begin looking around. Has it been a minute? Seconds? Is he supposed to respond in some way?

“You need not be so proud, Dorian. They do not merely tolerate you, they like you. You are easy to like.” Cole smiles at Dorian. Dorian simply mouths words before looking behind Cole to see if this is some kind of prank. It’s only a second but when he looks back Cole is gone and there’s no one there.

“What in the maker’s name...”, Dorian sighs heavily. This is going to be such a strange year. They like you. the words repeat in his head and a small smile plays at the corner of his mouth. Perhaps it’ll be a good year though.

#imrisah #inspired by imrisah’s art #ADORIBULL #adoribull in the background #Cole is best cheerleader #Cole is here or exposition and to make people happy through cheer-leading #Shady Vivienne #All the inquisitors are friends here #University AU #An AU of an AU #Where has the inquisition been all this time?

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