#retake arc

[edwinisms]

george rexstrew deserves awards for many things but i have to say. edwin’s bloodcurdling scream as niko gets killed deserves a whole award unto itself. like. that scream did not feel at all like a tv show scream. to a somewhat jarring degree. and i can’t express how much I respect that

[skyedancer2006]

THE TEAL MASK HAS BECOME REALLLLL

(It’s just cardboard, construction paper, glue, packing tape, and a lot of spite)

Can’t see shit wearing it but still looks cool hehe!

[osdove]

The argument against Azula getting a redemption arc being “she’s already great as a villain!  why would you want to ruin that?” is one of the most brain-dead takes in the fandom, because completely stagnating her growth as a character just because she worked fantastically as a villain does nothing but actively make her worse now.  Look at Smoke & Shadow.  That’s not the villain y’all are talking about when you talk about Azula, but that’s what you‘ve got.  Not every villain needs a redemption arc, but every villain needs an arc, because that’s how story writing works.  Leaving Azula as she is now is just insulting & does nothing for the overall narrative other than have a ‘crazy evil girl’ to mildly inconvenience the main cast every now and again.

And y’know, since Azula & Zuko’s stories are so closely linked to one another’s, Azula getting her redemption arc with the help of Zuko, who helps her as Iroh helped him - that would also be more growth and progression for Zuko. 

[soft-serve-soymilk]

the spiriters are nomming on my wife :(

[miraclemaya]

ill be honest i do want to write some worm fanfic, but specifically like Taylor in name only shit but for a reason...

[revolant]

Watching the first episode of greys Where Is My Boy

[just-a-webtoon-nerd-101]

Finally, after like 130 (definitely more than 100) chapters, the Workers Arc is finally over.

…So why I am dreading the fact that it’s actually not over? Eugene better not pullout another backup plan for his backup plan for his original plan.

[bill-gates-hate-blog]

btw thank u anon for giving me the motivation to rewrite my legacy

[dawnslight-aegis]

and that's a wrap on my tarot series! the upright majors, at least. there may be others sometime in the future if I am seized by a combination of insanity and hyperfixation once again.

you might notice a few cards are a bit (or in the case of the fool and alternate chariot, a lot) different! I did a few retakes for consistency/style.

below the read more I've included a bunch of notes about symbolism and reasoning behind my choices if that interests you!

(tag for individual card posts)

0. The Fool: Ardbert was really the only choice for this one. He's our stand-in, our shard, our mirror. Feo Ul is included partially because of lore (they are my co-WoL's shard on the First) and also because they also fit the themes of adventure and new beginnings and exploration. Most of the cards I played pretty loose on the posing vs traditional depictions, but this one I wanted to hew a little closer, which is why he's on a cliff with a foot hanging over the edge a bit, with his axe standing in for the bindle. This is my second attempt at the card -- the first was in Il Mheg, but I moved it to Kholusia (Ardbert's home) and dawn to more closely symbolize that it's the beginning of something. Attempts: 2. Difficulty: 8/10, posing Feo Ul was annoying.

1. The Magician: This card could have had several subjects, chief among them Alphinaud or a more modern G'raha, but I settled on Alisaie a) because the other two cards I had in mind for her (Chariot and Justice) were already taken, and b) the card's focus on physical magic and depicting the "tools of the trade" reminded me a lot of Angelo's creation! So that's why she's here, and why I set the card in Matoya's Relict, among the tools of magicians who came before (Matoya, Y'shtola). I retook the shot because I was unsatisfied with the blurriness/the way the light covered her face in the first one. Attempts: 2. Difficulty: 5/10, simple pose but working with Impact's spell effect complicated things.

2. The High Priestess: Another that I never questioned who would appear on it. Y'shtola's arc is entirely about uncovering forbidden, secret knowledge and wisdom, so she fits beautifully. The blue-white orb and the purple staff depict duality between dark and light, and how Y'shtola walks in two worlds, seeing things that are beyond sight, standing before an altar/holy place to the Night's Blessed. Attempts: 1. Difficulty: 2/10. Premade pose, knew where I wanted to place her -- the only thing was finding a prop for her off hand.

3. The Empress: Hoo boy did Minfi give me some trouble. I knew that I wanted our Antecedent, who provides both authority and care for the Scions, to represent the Empress, but I struggled to find a depiction that wasn't, well, boring. Minfilia is deeply linked with the Solar, and I didn't want to lean too hard into Word of the Mother/Hydaelyn territory, so I settled on a triple goddess-like idea. Attempts: 3. Difficulty: 6/10. Not mechanically difficult, just conceptually.

4. The Emperor: Another one that I knew who I wanted but struggled with the concept. Haurchefant is very much emblematic of the stability, structure, and masculinity provided by the Emperor, but it wasn't until I decided to add his equally-Emperor-coded father that things settled into place. Together, Edmont and Haurchefant evoke the image of father and son as well as king and knight, filling both major male authority roles that the Emperor exemplifies. Attempts: 4. Difficulty: 6/10. Same as the Empress.

5. The Hierophant: this one was one of the hardest to choose a subject for -- the WoL's allies are largely a bunch of revolutionary firebrands, and I disagree HEAVILY with the popular choice of placing Aymeric here. So I landed on Alphinaud -- out of the Scions, he is the one most concerned with tradition and the "right" way to do things, with formal education and structure. He wants to bring Sharlayan into the modern day, not upend the institutions that raised him and that he very much still respects, much like how he still respects his very traditionally Hierophant-coded father. So I placed him in his family home with a sort of smug look since he can be a pretentious little shit sometimes (affectionate). The spell effect is from Kardia, and I paid special attention to having the shapes align perfectly with the lines in the background, to give a sense of stability and order to the shot, especially contrasted with Alisaie's more dynamic and chaotic depiction. Attempts: 1. Difficulty: 4/10, entirely in alignment.

6. The Lovers: Hrasevelgr and Saint Shiva are a great choice for depicting the Lovers as two people, but no one does the Lovers in one subject better than Ysayle. Invoking the spirit of a woman who died for love in order to bring harmony to her people, but it truly being her own power and her own choice the whole time... it's great. Her pose is her transformation/summoning pose, turned into a gesture of affection, which I was particularly proud of. Attempts: 1. Difficulty: 3/10, posing monsters is always a little funky.

7. The Chariot: This one has two options -- my co-WoL, Marz, and Tataru/Cid/Nero for the NPC variant. All 4 characters share a singular drive and refusal to let anything stop them once they've set their mind to something, and the 3 NPCs have the added benefit of being associated with a literal "chariot" in the form of airship design. Marz's place on Shadowkeeper has some lore associations (Cylva is her shard on the 13th) as well as being a void mirror to Kaede's sin eater shot. For both I wanted to have dynamic poses to evoke the activity of the card. Attempts: 1 (Marz), 2 (NPCs). Difficulty: 3/10 for both, no major hurdles once the lovely @/karoiseka pointed me at an airship in NG+.

8. Justice: The heart of the Justice card is its emphasis on truth, and no character in FFXIV is more committed to truth even in the face of great suffering than Aymeric de Borel. Because of this, the shot is taken at the top of the Vault, where he confronted his father over his concealment of the truth of the Dragonsong War. The card is usually depicted with a woman holding a sword and balanced scales -- Aymeric is holding his sword in a pose used in statues in the Pillars, and the symmetry of the shot/light and shadow split down the middle is meant to give the feeling of balance. Attempts: 1. Difficulty: 1/10. I knew my concept, location, and shader before I even went in, and it came out exactly like I wanted.

9. The Hermit: Originally I had Urianger for this card, who still fits well, but when I moved him to Wheel of Fortune, there was a clear second choice: The Exarch. He even resembles the Hermit, with his cloak and staff, holding himself in isolation and possessing secret knowledge with which he guides the party. G'raha has grown out of this role as of Endwalker, but the Exarch fits it to a tee. I wanted to show his longing to return through his body language and reaching out for the portal that shows him the world he is set apart from. Attempts: 2. Difficulty: 4/10. Nothing major but did have to do two entirely separate cards lmao.

10. The Wheel of Fortune: The one I struggled with the most, conceptually. At first I had a more abstract choice, with the 3 starting city state leaders and Tataru, in a sort of "fate leads to the Scions" idea. But then I remembered that Urianger is a fortune teller who uses a wheel-like weapon with a literal wheel of cards, and, well. Yeah. The man is intimately associated with fate and choice, and the choice to place him on the moon is intentional, to separate him from his more secretive depictions in HW/ShB. He is the one who prepares our second option (flight) while giving us the choice to make our first (fight). Attempts: 2. Difficulty: 7/10. He's up on a high ledge that's not normally accessible and that's always a pain in the ass.

11. Strength: The one that started it all. The original shot of Kaede contained some layer elements I wasn't happy with so I ended up retaking it to better cohere with the others. Strength is about confidence and inner strength "leashing" power, symbolized by the woman and the tamed lion, and there's exactly one good lion model in XIV -- Forgiven Cruelty. It also has the fun side meaning of Kaede conquering and wielding the light that almost killed her. For Moenbryda's, I went with something simple -- her axe to symbolize her strength, but with her archon mark and the Sharlayan Thaliak statue prominently featured, emphasizing her intelligence. Attempts: 2 (Kaede), 1 (Moenbryda). Difficulty: 6/10. Kaede's was straightforward enough (though I had to wait an annoyingly long time for the sky to shift colors correctly), but Moenbryda's involved me floating her up on a building so i could get Thaliak in the shot correctly.

12. The Hanged Man: Holy moly this one was a PAIN IN THE ASS. I knew from the minute I started this what I wanted to do with it -- Lahabrea holding Thancred's ankle as he reaches for Minfilia. The Hanged Man is one that I felt it was especially important to mimic the iconic pose on the card, and this was how I decided to do it, but it took me over an hour and a half to accomplish. Anyway, the Zodiark idol stands in for the Tree of Life, which I really liked. Attempts: 1. Difficulty: 10/10. Absolutely infuriating to have to pose 3 actors in three dimensional space like that.

13. Death: I only ever considered Estinien for this card. It stands for transformation and change, for shedding the old to make way for the new, and I chose to depict that by having his old corrupted drachen mail posed behind him like a shadow or an abandoned husk. He has left the hate and the rage behind, but the helmet is meant to symbolize that he always remembers it, and carries it with him so that he can do better. His lance is also vaguely reminiscent of the traditional Death scythe. That spot in Coerthas is where he challenges you in the early DRG quests while controlled by Nidhogg, as well as being just visually striking. Attempts: 1, but it took a while. Difficulty: 9/10. The ground is very much not flat, the helmet is on a minion, and I had to change angles and locations a few times.

14. Temperance: I briefly considered Hythlodaeus here, but Krile fits very well. Calm, competent, but unsure of her own worth. I chose Eureka Hydatos both for its importance to Krile as well as its easily accessible water -- instead of pouring from a cup, Krile is looking at her reflection. This one came together so quickly and easily. Attempts: 1. Difficulty: 1/10. In and out of Eureka in less than 20 minutes.

15. The Tower: Originally, before I reshuffled, G'raha was going to be the Tower simply because I didn't know where to put him, and I couldn't think of an ally who is ultimately a destructive force, but it always bothered me because he truly didn't fit. Meteion, though -- despite her innocence and unwillingness, is THE destructive force within Endwalker's story. This card had the highest hurdles -- I had to get 7 friends to help me queue for Endsinger and then leave, and I almost couldn't get my tools to load Meteion in properly. After that it was smooth sailing, however. I used the whole lockout timer, but this was only the 4th shot I took, and it's one of my personal favorites. Attempts: 1. Difficulty: 4/10, purely for queuing.

16. The Devil: Addiction, obsession, and control -- Zenos was the only answer for this card. I included Zero as well, despite intending this to be a primarily 6.0 and earlier set, to represent the humans bound in chains to the Devil, using the way she's pinned between Zenos and the scythe to symbolize that she's trapped. Afterward I realized this exact shot and character choice would have also worked quite well for the Tower, as well, but I ultimately prefer the Devil for him. Attempts: 1. Difficulty: 3/10. Came together surprisingly easily, despite the fact that I had to make Zero's hat touch pose myself.

17. The Star: Symbolizing hope and new life, I can think of no one better suited than Ryne and the Empty. Ryne herself was given her own new life when Minfilia passed on her power, and the ability to make her own destiny -- and she used that power to revitalize a barren wasteland. My first version of this shot had a photoshopped in central star, but I decided to revisit the concept with an in game effect for the star instead. Helios provided what I needed, with the fun extra benefit of some additional rainbows (happy pride!). Attempts: 3. Difficulty: 3/10. Nothing crazy beyond trying to find a good angle to get the star in the shot, as well as Eden and the rainbow crystal. Second attempt I messed up the framing and had to redo it again.

18. The Moon: The card of dreams, fear, anxiety, and secrets, Gaia is perfect here (and a lovely companion to Ryne as the Star), though I did briefly consider Urianger as well. I wanted to have Gaia on the sand, with the moon hanging between the crystal walls of the Empty above her, but the angles would NOT cooperate to allow me to get the moon in the shot. So, levitation was the only answer. Fortunately it suits Gaia well, especially the distance that it evokes. Attempts: 1. Difficulty: 6/10. I hate midair posing.

19. The Sun: Another card that sprang fully formed into my mind. Joy and fulfillment is symbolized by Lyse enjoying the morning light in a free Ala Mhigo, thinking of Papalymo. It also allowed me to get both of these very different characters into a single card, as they are very much a package deal, though I did consider Papalymo for the Hierophant as well. Attempts: 1. Difficulty: 2/10. Came together very quickly.

20. Judgement: The last two cards of the Major Arcana are very high concept, with very lofty ideals, so they felt hard to pin down. I thought of doing both my WoLs here, or maybe Elidibus with his three forms for light, dark, and balance. But ultimately I ended up on Emet-Selch and Hythlodaeus, as the sort of "final judgement" before the battle with the endsinger, the last step before everything ends. Their literal rebirth, the resolution of Emet-Selch's conflict with the WoL, the not-redemption but understanding reached, our efforts judged worthy -- it all just seemed to fit. The card design is simple but I hope the colors and emotion of the scene carry the weight of the arcana. Attempts: 1. Difficulty: 2/10. No major roadblocks.

21. The World: At last we arrive at the end, not only the last posted but the last taken as well. I always knew I wanted Venat/Hydaelyn for this card, as she is the literal heart of our world, as well as an Azem who has reached the end of her journey, as Ardbert was one who was at the beginning of his all the way back at the Fool. But when I didn't use Elidibus anywhere else, I decided to add him here as well, since he also served as the heart of the star for a time. Light and dark united together, watching over Etheirys. The one who destroyed our world in order to save it, and the one who saved our world only to try to destroy it. Perfect symmetry, a completion of the circle. Attempts: 1. Difficulty: 9/10. I had to stitch together 3 separate screenshots in photoshop, with the fore and backgrounds cut apart so I could control the opacities separately. Probably the card that took me the longest, but it was worth it.

[hadesisqueer]

I appreciate The Dragon Prince because it gave me tragic antagonists or villains that I love (Claudia), villains that while I don't really like them I understand how they came to be and can feel a bit of sympathy for (Aaravos or Viren), villains I straight up fucking hate (Sol Regem) and villains that I don't really hate because when they appear on-screen I just sigh wondering how they can be so fucking stupid (Karim). They really give you everything.

No but for real, Karim's entire character arc consists of 'The risk I took was calculated but I am bad at math' because. He's so dumb. He keeps saying he wants to restore the Sunfire Empire to its former glory, but like-- how? What plans do you have for the future? Are you going to try to retake Lux Aurea? Because you can't. Oh, you want humans out? Okay-- how would that help to restore the former glory, though? You're just being a bigot?

The thing is that all Karim ever did was talk about his birthright —that's not even his birthright, actually, because he's the youngest sibling— and keep babbling about history demanding blah blah blah of people and how his sister wasn't a competent queen when actually it is the opposite. Janai proves, by allowing the architect to live while still giving her an according punishment, that she is a fair queen who chooses mercy and allows people to grow while still choosing justice; also, that she's more practical, because what good is a talented architect dead —who did something awful but still was sorta right about fire being dangerous around the camp— when you can just make her build a shrine so this kind of incident never happens again. Janai also had the Sunseed and plans to nurture it and help it grow, help her own people grow. She actually had plans for the future, and she had the patience necessary. She understands that you must learn from history but that it also doesn't define you, that you must not let it define you.

Karim doesn't get that. He was obsessed with history and the old ways. He didn't have any patience. And he didn't have any long term plans. Or even backup plans for when his plans inevitably failed, either! He was so convinced Janai would refuse his duel he was shocked when she actually fought him, and resorted to fighting-- with fire magic-- against someone who's fireproof-- again, no actual plan. He tried using an assassin to kill his sister, the actual person the assassin had a life debt to. He wants to steal the Sunseed, actively fucking over his people. When Ezran tells him to take his followers and start somewhere else, Karim refuses because he says he doesn't want crumbs off his sister's plate, but at the same time it's like-- that's exactly what you were gonna get, buddy. You wanna use Sol Regem to torch your sister's army. The only thing you're gonna rule over is the followers you have now plus what remains of Janai's, if they even accept you. So, yeah. Literally crumbs.

Also, again, he's so fucking entitled. 'What's rightfully mine' he's the youngest sibling, nothing is rightfully his, he's an usurper. Part of his demands being that humans leave and go back to 'their side of the border, where they belong', buddy, you'd be the king of the Sunfire Elves, not the King of all of Xadia. As king you could make humans leave your territory, but not Xadia. If a bunch of humans, hypothetically, befriended Moonshadow or Skywing elves and lived at the Silvergrove, or wherever the Skywing elves live, with them-- what, now you're gonna try to wage war against the the other elves, too, because they're not following your ways? You can threaten them with Sol Regem, sure, but also consider, because you didn't even consider it when you went to him-- he's an Archdragon, yeah, but the weakest of the Archdragons right now. Let's say Ezran and Janai follow through and give up and leave. They could go with Zym and head straight up to the Mushroom Mage and come back with Zubeia, the current Queen of the Dragons, right after she's done with her treatment. They arrive. Who's gonna win? A healthy Archdragon on her prime or an old, blind Archdragon that hasn't flown or fought in centuries? Also, once you give him the Sunseed he actually has no reason to be on your side, he already got what he wanted. Even if the Katolis thing didn't happen, he could've turned against you very easily. He likely would've done so.

He's an awful leader who doesn't actually care about his people. He disrespects other world leaders like Ezran immediately. He's an entitled, bigoted idiot who doesn't actually think things through and that actually makes him both incredibly annoying and very realistic, which actually makes me like him as an antagonist but still makes me let out a exasperated sigh every time he talks. Best part of him is that he's obsessed with going down in history as someone great when, with his actions, he's only going to pass down as the prince who tried to usurp his sister three times and failed the three times, each failure worse than the previous one. Lmao.

[wasjustred]

ahhh iloveyourworkssomuch!! 💖 i'd like to request something along the lines of sugar mommy!larissa (maybe with smut, who knows *wink*) 'cause she's all i can think about these days... anyways, happy early new years!!!

Easy Does It - NSFW Larissa Weems x f!Reader

Summary: Larissa spoils you beyond comprehension. Pairing(s): Larissa Weems x f!Reader Warnings: Smut. A lot of it. (Cunnilingus, fingering, strap-on — all Reader receiving) Word Count: ~4.7k

Author’s Note: I hope this meets your expectations, anon! I originally intended to make Larissa way more domineering, but once I began writing it just didn’t feel like her——I tried to stay true to her character where I could. As always, feedback is welcome ﹠. appreciated! ♡ (un-beta-ed as per usual!) ╱ AO3

The arrangement you and Larissa have has been smoothly gliding along for about six months now: you meet for dinner every weekend, in a town about half an hour outside of Jericho. You wear an outfit she’s picked out for you, she pulls your seat out, you share conversation and good - expensive - food and drinks, and you end on the stoop of your apartment, leaning into the kiss she places on your cheek, with a weekly allowance in cash in your purse. It’s the perfect set-up, nothing you’d dare protest, but sometimes you honest to god wish she’d just break her own rules and rail you ‘till the bed breaks.

Tonight you meet her at The Aviary, draped in a black satin dress with a deep slit up the leg––one of her favorites. Larissa helps you into your seat as she usually does, but before she takes her own, she places a long velvet box on your empty appetizer plate.

“Ooh, what’s this?”

“Open it and see.” A small, proud smirk turns her lips, eyes sparkling. You run your fingers over the velvet and lift at the seam, features going slack with surprise when you realize what’s hidden inside: a collar necklace, glittering diamond-cut, softening into a single falling arc of gems which ebbs, finally, into a small, shining teardrop. Light from the restaurant’s fixtures seem drawn to it, gleaming to and fro in a scattered stream of reflection. Your gaze snaps back to hers almost immediately, heart pounding.

“Larissa, I–”

“Do you like it?”

“I– Of course I do, it’s– it’s so beautiful..” Your voice softens and tapers off as you return your attention to the box before you. It’s probably the most beautiful thing anyone’s ever given to you, but you stop short of admitting this. “Help me put it on?” 

Larissa’s smile grows as she gathers the box in her hands, lifting the necklace from its cushion. She moves to stand behind you and tenderly brushes your hair aside; her hands are as soft as anything, so gentle in the way they handle you, securing the piece around your neck. Your own hand raises to rest atop the new weight at your clavicle, and when she sets her palms along your shoulders and squeezes, you shift your hand up to capture hers.

“What’s the occasion?”

“Do I need one?” Larissa presses her lips to your cheek from behind before she retakes her seat, arching a brow in challenge. The answer is no, of course; this is how you work, special occasion or not. She always manages to keep you on your toes, though, far more thoughtful and intimate than any other ‘financeur’ you’ve ever humored in the past: Tennis bracelets set with gemstones which perfectly match your eyes, a new coffee bar set-up when you mentioned off-hand that Starbucks had discontinued your favorite drink, a signed first edition copy of your favorite book she ‘just so happened to come across’ while out of state. Much more than the simple, routine bank deposits and luxury brand pieces that were never quite you which you received from others. Larissa’s gifts have always been astoundingly personal.

You’ve never told her this, but you stopped dating altogether once your little dynamic began. How could anyone else compare? She makes you feel important without ever having to work for it ––– like you’re lovable, worthy, because you exist, and nothing more. You’re breaking  your own rules, being so enamored with her, but you refuse to dwell on it.

“No, you don’t…” You trail off as your food arrives, ducking your head in thanks as the waiter sets everything out before you. Any discussion of her gift to you ends there on Larissa’s own accord, swiftly and advantageously moving on to a new topic as soon as the waiter has left you. The rest of the night is spent sipping expensive wine and musing instead on all of the high-culture goings-on you never get to discuss with anyone else: Art, ballet, classical music. Larissa’s a delicious trove of knowledge and opinions and she impresses you with each turn of a new topic. You often find yourself wondering - not just tonight, but many nights whilst basking in her presence - why she’s chosen you. You can hold good conversation, of course, and have an appreciation for the finer things in life usually reserved for those older and/or wealthier than you, but what’s always been curious, what’s always given you pause, is that she never asks for anything else in return. You have no choice but to ask yourself what it is you possibly have to offer to a woman like her––but you almost always fall short of a satisfying answer.

She’s talking you both through an analysis of the most recent play she brought you to when you take one of her hands in your own, tracing the lines of her palm as you listen. Larissa stumbles over her words at first contact, a rare occurrence for her, and blushes pink at the sensation. When you glance up at her in question she quickly averts her gaze and carries on, moving to smooth her thumb over yours as you continue. You love her fingers: they’re long, delicate, awfully reminiscent of the Greek statues she enjoys waxing poetic about. It’s an instance in which you’re reminded art, very often, echoes us in a continuous cycle of give and take.

You don’t say a word when you notice her face darken another shade as you press a kiss to the inside of her wrist before moving on to dote upon her other hand.

She’s not once explicitly told you, but Larissa’s never expected you to take a physical liking to her. She set the rules she did early on for a reason, knowing she could live with looking and not touching, taking care of you and watching your face turn alight with each gift or special night out without ever ending the evening by your side. No sex necessary, no physical affection expected. But here you are, fawning over her, and she’s never been more conflicted.

To assuage the feeling, she convinces herself it’s the wine that’s made you this way––a good bottle will go a long way, thus your touch must be the product of inebriation, not genuine affection. You’ve both long since finished off your meals when Larissa pays the bill and drives you home as she normally does, to an apartment she partly finances (not fully, at your own insistence that there are some things you should take care of yourself) and walks you to your door, stooping to kiss your cheek. Routine. 

She is right about one thing, however, and that’s the potency of the house wine tonight. Not on your reasoning, but your self-control. You spent the car ride home admiring her profile in the passing streetlamps and traffic lights, studying the way each red light cast itself across her, how the passing headlights of opposing traffic bathed her in a cinematic glow you associated only, appropriately, with Vivien Leigh in A Streetcar Named Desire. Ghostlike, almost. Ethereal. And at that same wine’s behest, you lean further now into her goodnight kiss than you’d normally allow yourself.

It’s as she prepares to leave that you decide - anchored by the weight of the diamonds around your neck - that this is the night you’ll throw caution to the wind, fervently hoping it won’t backfire and end with her rejection and a ruined arrangement that you’d both worked to preserve over the past six months.

“Do you want to join me for a nightcap? I know we don’t usually, but.. I’d like you to. If you’d like to, of course. If you don’t that’s–––”

“Y/N,” she interrupts. You can hardly tell but her heart’s just about burst out of her chest. There’s an inner battle waging right on the precipice of her ribcage and your bright, hopeful eyes staring up at her aren’t making it any easier to parse out. Do you feel obligated somehow to pay her back for the necklace? She knows you know she’d never ask that of you, that your arrangement is not a traditional one, but has she unknowingly pushed the bounds all the same? Did you simply imbibe too much and don’t really have a clue what it is you’re saying?

Or, perhaps.. Most dangerously: Do you mean it?

“I don’t want you to feel as though you have to… ‘pay me back’ for tonight. That was never my intention.”

She volleys her own inner turmoil dead straight in your direction and stares down at you with what might be, if you squint hard enough, a nervous expression.

You lean sideways against the door and cross your arms over yourself, appraising her. Does she really not want you? What the hell does she get out of this if she doesn’t? You just can’t wrap your head around it, and while you insisted to yourself you’d never outwardly question the bounds of your relationship and why they’ve settled where they are, you’ve put yourself at a crossroads.

“Do you think I’m pretty?”

She balks.

“What? Of course I do. What does that have to do with anything?” Larissa’s expression is a mixture of incredulity and apprehension. You decide to bite the bullet then as she lingers uncertainly beneath the moonlight.

“I don’t understand what you get out of this. Am I not–– you think I’m pretty but you don’t want to touch me? You pay for my livelihood but you don’t want anything tangible in return?” You both purse your lips simultaneously and you’d laugh if the situation weren’t so dire all of a sudden. “You confuse me, Larissa.”

She shifts her weight from one foot to the other, a small cloud bursting forth as she sighs.

You fucked it, didn’t you? Fucked it right to hell, and now she’s never going to speak to you again.

“You’re an idiot, do you know that?” The air goes still.

…

It’s news to you. 

Larissa suddenly pushes forward and traps you against the front of your door, hands leveled at your waist. “I’ve always wanted you,” she grits out, her arms tensing at your sides. “I just didn’t want you to feel as though you had to. Return the sentiment, that is. You’re too precious for that.” Her voice is low and rough in your ear, strangled. You grab hold of her forearms to keep yourself upright when her tone shoots right through you, breathing heavily. You gradually lift your gaze, poring over every curve of hers as you do, and meet her eyes. They’ve nearly gone black with lust, and a subtle quiver in her lip tells you everything you need to know.

“Kiss me.”

Larissa groans, which is admittedly not the reaction you’d expected, and presses further into you, her nose brushing against your cheek.  You can feel the heat of her grow, ensnaring you in perfect contrast to the cool night air.

“You have to tell me you want it, darling. I need you to say it.” … Oh. A new wave of arousal surges through you as you turn your head ever so slightly, her lips hovering just out of reach. The shared breath between you has become fraught with possibility, with the overwhelming, unspent energy that’s been collecting over the last six months without either of you quite noticing. Of course this is what she needs: confirmation, not that you’re hers but that she’s yours, by choice and choice alone.

“I want you, Larissa. Please,” you whisper, squeezing her arms in an attempt to ground yourself. She says nothing in return, instead immediately closing the distance and engulfing you in a desperate, searing kiss. Your cheeks burn and it’s all you can do not to melt into her fully, sucking in a sharp breath as her tongue slides against your bottom lip. This, this, you realize, is exactly what you’d imagined: Feeling her against you, wrapped up tightly in her arms, being drawn in and freed all at once, struggling to contain the desire you feel pulsing within yourself. It’s like Larissa’s split open your mind and picked through every thought there, coming away with only the most indecent imaginings and putting them to use as her hips pitch forward and her hands grasp achingly at the roundness of your thighs.

“Open the door,” she husks, suddenly ripping herself away and turning you at the waist to face the door. You fumble for your keys as she scores your neck and shoulders with hot, open-mouth kisses, running the tip of her tongue along the muscle that pulls taut there.

“F-fuck.” The chuckle she gives in response to your whimpering, shaking when you can’t fit the key into its slot, only weakens you further. Larissa must know her effect well as she wraps an arm around you to hold you upright, the other grabbing the key from you and swiftly unlocking the door in one go.

“Trust me, I’m trying.”

Laughter follows you both as you take the stairs one at a time, pausing every few to take her tongue in your mouth and run your hands along her front. You bypass the living room once you reach the landing - a feat in itself - and lead Larissa straight to your bedroom, kicking one heel off in the hall and the other at the threshold of your room. 

She stops you just before you reach the bed and holds you steady for a moment: “Hold on, I want to look at you..” You hair is mussed, curls losing their hold in the heat of your entanglement, chest heaving and red. Larissa steps forward to brush her thumb over your lips, searching your face for any sign of hesitation or doubt.

She doesn’t find any.

“Christ, you’re a pretty thing,” she hums. The pad of her thumb pulls at your bottom lip and you acquiesce, tilting your chin up before taking her finger into your mouth, rolling your tongue against its tip, watching her with wide eyes that imply an innocence you don’t possess. A hiss escapes her when your teeth come down around her knuckle and she scowls, gripping your jaw with an intensity that rivets the surrounding atmosphere as she rips her hand away, smashing your lips together once more.

In the next second the backs of your knees are buckling against the edge of the mattress and you squeak; Larissa had slipped a hand over your sternum and shoved, launching you down hard into the bed. Wet heat urges your hips forward as she crawls over you, but her hands swiftly come down to force them back into the mattress, trapping you there.

“Patience, darling.” You scoff as she begins the journey down your body, placing lazy kisses to your lips, cheek, jaw, chest while her fingers deftly work to pull your dress from you. You lift your back so she can snake a hand around and drag the zipper down to its end at the top of your hips, wriggling free and moving to pull at her own dress–––but she grabs your wrists, pinning them above you with a devious smirk. 

“Ah, ah. Let me spoil you,” she murmurs into the crook of your neck, one hand traveling to cup the dampness between your legs. Electricity cracks against your spine at her touch; you’re sweltering and freezing all at once, watching her eyes rake over you with a hunger you’ve never seen on her before. Her fingers draw idle circles around your clit as she works her way down your body, leaving a trail of wetness in her wake where tongue meets flesh, nipping at the precipice of your hip bones, glancing up at you before she licks you through your panties. There’s no helping the whine you turn free when she all but purrs at the taste she gets of you from the soaked fabric.

“Larissa, please,” you huff, lifting your hips up to meet her mouth. She takes three steps then in quick succession: chuckles into the skin of your inner thigh; pulls your panties down and off of you; and presses a series of messy, teasing kisses to your bare sex. Your fingers clutch at the top of your duvet as she finally begins to devour you, breath hitching as her tongue circles your entrance and delves into you. In a moment of white hot desperation, you hook your legs around her, calves flexing against her back as you shudder into her touch. She’s ravenous, consuming you with long, uninterrupted strokes that ride on the flat of her tongue, lapping your slickness up and winding into you all at once. The coil is tight within you already, pulsing with every movement of her mouth. You’re almost worried it’ll be over before it scarcely has had the chance to start, but a quiet, bemused voice in the back of your mind ridicules you: Larissa is nothing if not generous.

“You taste divine,” she breathes, before returning her ministrations to your clit, sucking and popping with the filthiest fucking moan you’ve ever heard. The feeling of her tongue against that tight bundle of nerves prompts your eyes to roll back, eyelids fluttering, and imbues your hands with a mind of their own, working them swiftly into her hair and pulling her as close to your cunt as you can get her, hips lurching in an unsteady rhythm. You can feel her amusement at your desperation as distinctly as you feel her mouth, but it’s quickly forgotten when she slides two fingers into you with an ease that makes you lightheaded. The sound of your wetness is sinful, and you have to admit it only spurs you on.

“Fuck me, fuck me, pleasefuckme––” Larissa’s grinning against you as she pumps her fingers, curling into you with a startling accuracy that leaves you breathless and aching. You press your cheek to your shoulder in a feeble attempt to keep yourself above the threshold dividing pleasure and bliss, useless as she slips another finger into you and flicks her tongue against you, quickening her pace as she follows the mounting tone of your pleas. Every touch spreads a warmth through you impossible to ignore, stirring a frantic need beneath the surface of your skin.

“Cum for me, darling, cum for me, that’s right.” Larissa presses the heel of her hand into the space just below the swell of your stomach and the coil snaps suddenly, sharply, sucking all of the air out of you at the same time that you yelp and tense with equal force, clamping around her face as your orgasm tears through you. She continues to lap at you even as your hands push at her, holding fast to your thighs to keep her place. Your legs shake as she builds you up in the same breath that you’re coming down, a second orgasm already rearing its head.

“I can’t,” you keen, but Larissa shakes her head and unlatches briefly to disagree.

“Yes you can, Y/N––be a good girl for me.” It washes over you when she lowers her face again and wraps her lips around your clit, sucking with an unfazed firmness that shocks you to your center. You’re tingling over every limb, pacing your breaths to ride you through this second crest. “That’s it..” Larissa coos, running her hand over your leg comfortingly. You can hardly breathe as the shockwaves roll through you one after the other, and the darkness of the ceiling above you seems to double in size as you stare in a daze.

Your muscles melt into the mattress one by one, sinking deep as Larissa finally pulls her head away and crawls forward to kiss you; you can taste your slickness on her tongue, familiar and tangy. When you part, gasping for air, you wrap a hand around the back of her neck and press your foreheads together, gazing up into her eyes with the softest look you can muster after so thoroughly falling apart in her hands.

“My turn?” She laughs loud and heartily at your doe-eyed demeanor. You’re itching to touch her, to taste her, and she knows it.

“Mmm, maybe.” Larissa shrugs and rises up from her position over you, sliding off to the side of the bed where you can’t reach her––and not for lack of trying. A whine catches in your throat when she shoots a withering look over her shoulder, patting the space beside her. “Help me with my dress, darling.”

You waste no time in flipping over onto your knees, shuffling over to her and grappling with the zipper of her dress. You flush when she laughs both at your inability to get it down in one swift motion and the frustrated little growl that bubbles up from your chest.

“Not funny,” you complain, gritting your teeth as she shifts and the zipper gives, revealing the smooth, snowy expanse of her back. Instilled with a renewed sense of hunger, you push the fabric away from both of her shoulders and continue the journey down and around to her breasts, thrilled she’s forgone a bra tonight as you palm the supple flesh there and roll her nipples between your fingers. The sigh she expels is a ragged one, her hands dwarfing yours whilst her head falls back against your shoulder. You revel in the sight of her lip caught between her teeth.

“I want to fuck you.” You just barely catch it in between her labored breaths and your own thunderous heartbeat, but you do, and you turn to glance at her curiously before her meaning hits you square in the face.

“But––”

She cuts you off. “I want to destroy you, Y/N. You can taste me later,” Larissa mutters, pivoting without another warning and capturing your lips again. You wouldn’t complain if it weren’t for the utter distress you felt to get your hands on her. She doesn’t give you a chance to rebut, however, as she slips out of her dress and climbs over you, guiding your hands to grip her ass. “Later, I promise.” She pulls back to appraise you, taking a rigorous inventory that she’ll commit to memory if it’s the last thing she does: Your flushed skin, the way you can’t keep still under her touch, the unmistakable shine of desire in your eyes.

“In th-the nightstand,” you stammer. Suddenly the realization that Larissa is here, in your bed, and you, at her mercy, is too much at once. You’re trembling with need and anticipation. She tilts her head at you, one second, two passing before she follows your guidance and pulls the drawer open, grinning wickedly at what she finds there.

“Harness?”

You nod vigorously, propping yourself up on your elbows and directing her through another drawer of your dresser. The slow, methodical way in which she fastens the leather around herself surely burns itself into your brain, and you can’t help the shameless moan that seeps out when she smooths an indulgent layer of lubricant along the silicone from base to tip, a delicious sight between her legs.

Larissa approaches with an emphasized swing to her hips, bending at the waist to press a chaste kiss to your lips before she nudges you to scoot back into the middle of the bed, positioning herself above you with a hand on either side of your head. She dips her face down into the hollow of your throat. 

Her voice vibrates against you despite her hushed tone. “Are you ready for me, darling?”

Your brain short-circuits at her words, imperfect timing. God, she’s fucking hot.

She lifts her head again to catch your gaze and smirks, nibbling on the tip of your chin. “Use your words.”

“Yes, yes, I’m ready,” you rasp, drawing your nails down the broad expanse of her back in anticipation.

The moment she slides into you is pure ecstasy: your toes curl and you haphazardly clamber for purchase upon her skin as she buries herself deep within you, stalling for a few moments to give you time to adjust. The way Larissa groans into the motion draws out an amusing - filthy - rumination about her being able to feel every stroke as with her own body, delighting in your wetness. She fills you seamlessly, snapping her hips against you before slowly drawing herself back, only to repeat the pattern and plunge into you as deeply as she’s able. It’s bruising and pleasurable all at once, how she brushes up against your walls and the ridges of the toy hit what your mind insists is every nerve-ending within you.

You rock together desperately, bodies moving as one as if you’d been doing this for centuries, mapping each other out and bringing each other to your peak. You savor the novel, tangled scent of sweat and arousal, a newly formed association with the sound of Larissa’s broken whimpers now frozen in your psyche.

A startled breath leaves you as Larissa abruptly anchors her weight to one side and pulls you on top of her, flipping your positions. Her arms wrap tight around you, looped at your back and around your shoulder as she fucks up into you at a crushing pace. You whine into the crook of her neck and realize you’re on the verge of tears, an overwhelming wave of pleasure and desperation wracking your body. Quiet grunts accompany her each thrust, slowing just so until it’s a steady pattern you can count to like clockwork, brutal and sharp at every buck of her hips. Your knees are aching, folded as they are, but the tight, coiling sensation within you overrides any and all discomfort, merely a quiet nagging in your brain; your focus is settled precisely on the angle of her cock and how her nails dig into your skin as you grind against each other. She’s close, too. You can feel it. It’s there in the shallowness of her breaths, in the urgency of her pelvis against yours, in the subtle arch of her back. You try to meet her where she’s at in your muddled state, pitching your hips backwards and down when she thrusts upwards––and you know it’s worked when she gasps and her hands scramble to lock together at the small of your back.

“Yes, that’s it darling. Just like that,” Larissa pants, using the leverage of her hold on you to help you fuck yourself. The only sounds permeating the room are that of your mingled breaths and her cock driving into you with a consistent, almost unforgiving rhythm. 

“Pleasepleaseplease, ohfuck––” 

“Y/N–––”

She tenses with you and cries out as your orgasms hit you both at once, ravaging you beyond reason. You’re hyper-aware of the way her breasts feel pressed against you, the way one of her hands flies up to bury itself in your hair as you ride her through your climax. Larissa’s hips stutter as she whines into your shoulder, sinking her teeth into you, and you marvel at the feeling of her muscles clenching around you, from the sinewy stretch of her arms to her thighs rested between your own.

Everything you’d hoped for. Fantasized about. Greedily deliberated again and again whilst watching her across the table in another fancy restaurant in another unfamiliar town.

Larissa is careful as she pulls out of you, slow and deliberate so as not to disturb the tenderness there. You remain curled on top of her but she doesn’t complain, rather rubbing your back in long, languid movements and whispering affirmations in you ear, a sweet mixture of ‘breathe darling, I’ve got you’ and more headily, ‘you did so well for me, you’re so good, you took me so well’. When you allow yourself to fall to the side of her, she shimmies out of the harness and tosses it somewhere off the edge of the bed, ignoring its clatter as she wraps you up in her arms. You burrow yourself further into her warmth and sigh at the feeling, content.

“Now is it my turn?” you ask, voice low and raked over with exhaustion. The belly laugh she gives is worth all the weariness in the world. “You’re incorrigible!”

[belatinysun]

thread with some of my favorite kagehina/hinakage fanfics!! 🧡💙

bunny ears by kjcoded

rated G

Childhood Friends to Lovers • AU - College/University • Getting Together

Hinata Shouyo: Family Man by littlegnoblin

rated G

Interviews • Post-Timeskip • Parents kagehina

Catching Up to the Trend by maeveplanet

rated G

Established Relationship • Married Couple • Social Media

No Retakes! by WinteRey

rated G

Quarantine • Domestic Fluff • Secret Relationship • Livestreams

plain as day by emleewrites

rated T

Through the Years • Hinata Shouyou-Centric • Insecurity • Hurt/Comfort

eat well, love by tomiawka

rated T

Brazil Arc • Long-Distance Relationship • Non-Linear Narrative

thirty-three days of mist and mountains by tinygumdrops

rated T

Rivals to Estranged Friends to Lovers • Non-Linear Narrative • Slow Burn • Getting Together

overdraft by ClementineKitten

rated T

Fake/Pretend Relationship • 3rd Year Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio • Getting Together

Courting Rituals by Spidermonkeyyy

rated M

All-Stars Match • Getting Together • Introspection • Asexuality Spectrum

for the best of all possible worlds by tinygumdrops

rated M

AU - Penpals • Childhood Friends to Lovers • Brazilian Hinata Shouyou • Getting Together

The Fish who Swallowed the Sun by awesomecookies

rated M

Mutual Pining • Long-Distance Relationship • Asexuality Spectrum • Kageyama Tobio-Centric

Behind Closed Doors by Fawn_Eyed_Girl

rated M

MSBY • Secret Relationship • Food as a Love Language • TransMasc Hinata Shouyou

That's What I Want by littlegnoblin

rated E

Brazil Arc • Getting Together • Light Angst

Worse for Wear by kvhottie

rated E

Adulthood • One-night Stands • Getting Together • AU - Different First Meetings

Botched Dating Escapades by zimriya

rated E

Fluff & Humor • Post-Timeskip • Getting Together • Idiots in Love

insipience by reminiscene

rated E

Misunderstandings • Post-Timeskip • Getting Together • Accidental Relationship

[deconstructthesoup]

Okay, everything about this finale made me ricochet through a thousand different emotions (and seeing the Cathilda art was just the icing on the cake), but what it did give me, first and foremost, is a concept for a season with the High 5 Heros.

It really is just the five of them now, and they're still processing Kipperlilly's betrayal and the lasting effects of the shatterstars. In an attempt to fully reconnect as friends and prove themselves as adventurers, they retake their spring break quest... and things spiral out from there.

Ruben (played by Raphael Chestang) doesn't remember anything from when he was shatterstared, but he still has all those fans who want to hear more of the emo music he wrote... and even though having attention is good for a bard, he's very upset about the fact that nobody wants to hear his real music. Ruben's starting to get a lot of self-confidence issues based on the fact that the guy that he doesn't even know but who he briefly was was so popular, and he's trying to be himself, but, well... it's hard.

Ivy (played by Mariah Rose Faith Callias) is... well, actually, the fact that she wasn't shown as often in the season means that her player can make up an arc from scratch for her, and I like that. Let's leave that up in the air. Maybe she's trying to reconcile her stint as a mean girl with her true self, or maybe her mean-girl self is closer to her true nature than we think.

Mary Ann (played by Katie Marovich) is still, at her core, Mary Ann, and I like the idea of her arc being less of an arc and more of a reassurance thing---this is who she is, she's not apologizing for it, and that doesn't mean that she doesn't deserve the same amount of respect. That'd be pretty cool to see.

Oisin (played by Joey Richter) is dealing with... a lot. Seeing as his actions led to getting his great-great-great-great-whatever grandmother killed, his family has not outright disowned him, but there's a lot of snide comments and clear disrespect being thrown his way. He's trying his hardest to prove that he's better than that, but, uh... yeah, I think it would end in a "fuck my rich asshole family" thing, much like Adaine's arc.

And lastly, Lucy (played by Ashley Johnson) is, of course, very shaken by the fact that she legit died, and spent a good chunk of her death in a hellish state. Her connection to her goddess has wavered after her experience, and she's very much in a space of doubt---maybe a space that's big enough for her to connect to Cassandra, and maybe share in Kristen's four-deity pantheon. Not to mention, it's still very hard to interact with her friends when she still remembers the night of her death, even though they were possessed.

So, uh... yeah!

[rebo-chan]

This was a HELLA LONG POST SO IM PUTTING IT UNDER A CUT. THIS WAS MY FIRST ATTEMPT AT A XANXUS ANALYSIS, SO I HOPE YOU VARIA FANS ENJOY??

OKAY so I did my last poll (Favorite arc) because I wanted to figure out which arc/aspect of an arc I should look at next. And Varia won. Also, as well my friend has been slowly scheming to get me into the Varia as a whole. Safe to say, it's starting to work. ANYWAY, since I've never done him before, the thing I wanted to look at here is Xanxus, his relationship with his wrath, and with his "pride". To start, Xanxus comes into the Ninth's care as a child being fooled into believing that he was the Ninth's son. Overtime, under the Ninth's care, he is led to believe that it is his birthright to be Vongola X. Pride as defined by my beloved Simon arc is something you can't give up on. This is no doubt Xanxus's pride. The only problem is that it was a fake one, so easily ripped away from him by the mere fact that he and the Ninth had no blood connections. This is where his Wrath "begins", furious at having been 'betrayed' that there was never any intention to make him the heir. The very thing he made his Pride. It's here, his wrath introduces him to Squalo who walks into the lion's den (or at least someone he had believed to be a Vongola Lion) wanting to see where that anger led him. Squalo, the series embodiment of the word 'Pride'. Eager to prove that Xanxus, who he believed to be the Ninth's son, he would be a valuable ally to.

Squalo and us the audience then get to see personally where Xanxus's Wrath had led him. Despite Xanxus's pride being fake, it was still not something he could give up on. He was going to take his pride back, no matter who bled for it. Hence the coup. His Wrath made him chase after his Pride, and what it ended up being was one.. big temper tantrum from the hands of someone with far too much power. It's not lost on me as well that the result of the coup is referred to as the Cradle Incident. A cradle, what you would do to calm down a screaming child. It's also here that Squalo finds out the truth about Xanxus not truly being Vongola X. In the midst of this family debacle, Xanxus's pride is confirmed to not just himself but to Squalo as well as false. Lucky for Xanxus, Squalo was never following his pride but rather his rage. Unfortunately, I'm not entirely sure that Xanxus sees it that way.

As Xanxus wakes up from the ice with years having passed, it does nothing to sooth the burn of his anger of his ripped away pride. He hatches up another plan, the ring conflict, in order to crush the one that his 'birthright' was given to. To spit on his father's choice and destroy what the Ninth had wanted for the boy, just like his wants were destroyed. "Show me what that old man saw in you." Is no doubt the wrath slipping through. It's a "What made you a better choice than me?" I don't doubt that the relationship between Xanxus and the Ninth is.. almost irreparable at this point, but he is still someone who thought highly of the Ninth's opinion just based on that and the fact he felt betrayed by the ninth's action. He again WAS proud to be his son, either that's from the benefits that being the heir for Vongola X brought or out of some genuine familial love. It's hard to say frankly and up to interpretation. (In the very least, we can at least say Timoteo did genuinely care for Xanxus but this post isn't about him<3) Either way, the ring conflict begins and it is Xanxus's chance at retaking his pride and getting his proper and true revenge for what was done for him.

But this time though, there are slight differences between now and the coup. Time either in the cradle or otherwise has morphed how Xanxus sees things. There's.. an added humiliation to Xanxus now, one that hates what happened back in the coup. Not in the way that he regrets what he did, persay but rather the way the Ninth's eyes looked upon him in pity, the way he sees that same look in Tsuna. The fact that Squalo was there, whether or not he had heard what happened. It burns Xanxus. He wants his pride back, but he wants it renewed. Freshly removed from his past. He wants the Ninth gone, and for the way Tsuna shares that same look in his eyes, he's going to take both of them down in one go if he can help it. (The cloud battle, putting Tsuna in the situation where he could be charged with possibly ending the Ninth's life. It would've been poetic, wouldn't it? The two gentle souls of the Vongola destroying one another.) Then, there's Squalo.. Squalo, who "dies" in the rain battle and Xanxus can only laugh. Because, finally, things are going his way. Now, everything is in place. He can now take the position of Vongola X without the threads of his past holding onto him tightly, reminding him of his failure, of who he really is, of his falsified pride. What's poetic is that it's the embodiment of Pride who appears, with an absolute refusal to die, for real pride isn't something you can give up, that reveals Xanxus's truth to everyone. Tells everyone what was essentially that no matter how hard Xanxus struggles and plots and rips and tears, his 'pride' will never be his again. Xanxus doesn't accept this, it wasn't Squalo's intention to make him to either, but the option isn't in his hands. It never was. The ninth, at the end of the cloud battle, blames himself for all of his happening. For not being strong enough to do what had to be done. This can be interpreted as him referring to not killing Xanxus during the cradle incident, but it can also be interpreted as him not being able to tell Xanxus the truth from the start. Not being able to deny Xanxus the chance of life away from the slums. His 'kind' action only served to put Xanxus's life down a path of the inability to choose. Almost paralleled to Tsuna in a way, who brought into the role of Vongola X against his will, Xanxus is kept away from Vongola X against his will.

Xanxus's wrath is a weakness, let me make that clear. It blinds him from the truth, from his unfortunate circumstances, from accepting that it just couldn't be. I'm not sure if he'll ever accept it, so long as he has that wrath. But, the good news is that we see ten years later into the future, his wrath is no longer an open enough of a wound for others to poke at and prod to get him to react the way they want. His response to Raisel was nothing less than a "Do you think I'm that easy?" He IS better there about it. The Vongola is STILL his family, no matter what inner conflict there is and no outsider is going to be able to rip into him half as easily as the people from inside did. As for what he's done with his pride ten years down? It's hard to say, he desires Vongola at its strongest and at that time it was the strongest under Tsuna's control. I won't pretend he doesn't still want the title, but the wound isn't fresh anymore at least by then.

OOGH. WELL, THATS IT. I'm curious to see if you guys have any interpretations about his "pride", if you agree, disagree, or if you have any interpretations of what his pride has become ten years down the line. Thank you for reading this far!!!

[e-louise-bates]

Recently I've been mulling over the way Faramir and Boromir are presented in the LOTR movies, and why I find even their brotherly relationship unconvincing (I'm sorry, Boromir fans, but I do). I feel that everything about Faramir in the movies is presented in narrative as though he is a lesser version of Boromir, and the big issue for him is that he's always trying to live up to his brother's ideal, and his father is always criticizing him and Boromir is always trying to build Faramir up. It isn't just that Denethor thinks of Faramir as a lesser Boromir, it's that he genuinely is, and he needs to come to terms with who he is (and I guess he sorta does that when he rejects the ring? but then fails when his father tells him to go retake Osgiliath? and then there's never really a satisfactory conclusion to his arc because he just gets healed and falls in love with Eowyn and decides there's hope for the future after all and everything's ok?).

Whereas in the books Tolkien tells us outright--Boromir is a lesser version of Aragorn, but Faramir is a lesser version of Gandalf. Faramir has the wisdom that his brother and father lack, and Denethor resents him for it, but Boromir respects him for it. Tolkien tells us that Faramir is certain that in all of Gondor there is no one like Boromir, and Boromir thinks the same (which I am pretty sure Tolkien means as Boromir thinks Faramir is the best of the best, but could also be interpreted as Boromir agreeing with Faramir that he, Boromir, is the best, which is kinda hilarious to imagine). Boromir is not always trying to build up his little brother, who is desperately trying to win their father's approval. Boromir recognizes the ways in which Faramir is superior to himself, the same way that Faramir recognizes Boromir's strengths.

Faramir in the books is a strong and capable leader of men (all of whom love him and are wholly loyal to him) as well as a mighty warrior, but his true strength lies in his wisdom. When he obeys his father's order to go attempt to retake Osgiliath, it is not a desperate attempt to win approval, but an acknowledgement that Denethor is still in command and he, Faramir, is bound by oath and virtue to obey his orders, even when they wrong. The quiet plea for his father to think better of him when he returns is a glimpse into the pain he feels at his father's constant rejection, but that pain does not control him, nor is it his driving motivation. Faramir's goal, in all things, is to be a man of virtue, even as Boromir's goal is to be a man of honor. Boromir finds that under the ring's temptation, honor breaks, and though he is redeemed it takes his death. When Faramir is confronted with the same temptation--a stronger one, even, as he has not spent weeks and months with Frodo as a companion and therefore has not built a relationship of trust and loyalty, and he has not heard with his own ears the strong warnings against using the ring!--virtue holds fast. Boromir redeems his own honor by his death, but by his life Faramir redeems the line of the stewards of Gondor, which is why he is able to receive the task of redeeming Ithilien once Aragorn is crowned king (and why he is actually a better husband for Eowyn than Aragorn would have been, but that's a whole other post).

All of this was lost in presenting Boromir as the superior-in-every-way elder brother, with Faramir as his shadow-self, who failed the same test with the ring but in a weaker way (and then passed at the last minute because ... Sam gave a moving speech about good in the world being worth fighting for and not giving up, and he decided that was a good reason to let them go destroy the ring after all?), and whose entire character was defined by desperately striving for his father's approval and never getting it, and then somehow just being ok at the end.

[the-last-thread-of-my-sanity]

Armin’s character and what he represents about bravery within the story means so much to me.

I feel like so often in shonen and general action story media traits like ‘bravery’ and ‘courage’ are considered synonymous with strength or risk-taking- and that’s certainly accurate in a lot of cases. But just like in so many other ways, AOT subverts or critically examines this trope within its characters- particularly in the main trio of the cast.

It’s so easy to reduce Armin to his easiest defined trope- the smart one- and while that’s definitely true and you could write a million meta essays on his intelligence, strategic thinking, etc, I think we don’t talk enough about the ways Armin’s character begs the audience to reexamine what it means to have strength and bravery.

Armin’s strength is not in the physical realm (although it’s worth dedicating another post entirely to the fact that Armin is certainly not that weak either- simply the weakest of an already exceptional group) and his strength is not solely his mind either. But also his determination, conviction, and the way he is willing to sacrifice himself to save others with hardly a second thought- all while not being as rash as Eren and Mikasa can be.

In a recent rewatch of the Trost Arc, there were so many moments that stood out to me that I had previously either taken for granted or not noticed the significance of. In that arc alone, after Eren’s “death” -

He follows Mikasa without hesitation to rescue her when she runs out of gas

Offers Mikasa his gas canisters and blades knowing he won’t survive without them

Defends Eren to the Garrison (this is obviously a pretty big moment that isn’t usually overlooked, of course)

Rushes off from the decoy squad and runs the ENTIRE length of the Trost district wall when he sees the red smoke flair- just to be there to help Mikasa and Eren

Stays by Eren’s titan form on foot in a titan infested area right before he places the boulder

And there’s probably some more I missed.

Armin at this point in the story has no false confidence about his ability to survive- in fact he probably has an abysmal lack of confidence that he can’t affect much, but he does it anyway.

(Obviously, this self-sacrificial tendency reaches a head and ultimately culminates in the sacrifice of his life in the mission to retake Shiganshina…)

All of this to say, what Armin represents about bravery and courage is so important to me because he dedicates his life with the purest of intentions- he is not scared of death in such a noble way and he brings it up again and again. He would die for the cause- nearly does.

Which I think creates an interesting parallel between him and Eren in the sense that Eren is frequently referred to as a “suicidal maniac”- clearly meant to refer to the reckless way he rushes into danger. Whereas Armin’s instinct towards self-sacrifice is never viewed this way, because it’s not a glaring flaw in the same way that Eren’s behavior is.

Another way the story examines this is through his interactions with Annie- who is opposite in that she is fiercely dedicated to her own survival at any cost. This is brought up in their interaction during the ODM gear inspection when she asks him if he would die if someone ordered him to and he easily answered that he would. Armin’s ability to understand this difference between himself and Annie without judging her for it is also unique to him.

Because Armin doesn’t expect anyone else to give their life or view others as cowards for not rushing into danger- because he sees the value in every life. He just feels the cost of his own life would be worth it to preserve someone else’s. It’s this love for humanity and unwavering optimism at the core of his character that gives him so much conviction.

And like so many others have pointed out, this is what saves him (and, to an extent, later the world) in the end when it comes to Levi’s choice to revive him. Erwin was successful because he was able to set aside his humanity and sent countless soldiers to their deaths to gain victory. Armin, more than anyone else in the story, was able to plan and make a difference in such a way that always assumed he would either ask others to take an equal risk or put himself at more risk to reach the goal. And he wasn’t driven by anger, hatred, or rage to do it.

Clearly, there’s a lot that can be said about the way Armin shows strength and bravery in dire situations without being, stereotypically, the strongest character- or even the die-hard risk taking typical protagonist that Eren represents for most of the story.

But I think ultimately the story is trying to show us that Armin’s version is the version that is within reach for everyone- and that will make the biggest difference in not just winning a battle but in making a better world. And it’s so important to me that AOT- despite being such an inherently violent story- took the time to present that message as emphatically as it did.