#And then did it again right after starting again because why not. Habit too ingrained.
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Hope this version is easier to read. Names aren't bigger because hands hurty. Gonna post these by splitting them between the top half and the bottom half because we feel like it.
Top Half:
Shallan Davar/Veil/Radiant - The Stormlight Archive vs Harrier Du Bois - Disco Elysium vs Frisk/Chara - Undertale
Sora/Xion/Roxas/Ventus/Vanitas - Kingdom Hearts vs The Moon Knight System (Marc Spector, Steven Grant, Jake Lockley) - Moon Knight Marvel Comics
Yugi Mutou/Atem - Yu-Gi-Oh! vs Uendo Toneido/Patches/Kisegawa/Owen - Ace Attorney: Spirit of Justice
Greed/Ling - Fullmetal Alchemist vs Sunny/Omori - OMORI
Dr Alto Clef - SCP wiki vs Madeline & Mirrorline - Celeste
The Wildcards - Persona vs Link/Deku Butlerâs Son/Darmani III/Mikau/Fierce Deity - LoZ Legend of Zelda: Majoraâs Mask
Bruce Banner/Hulk/Joe Fixit/Devil Hulk - Marvel comics vs Mike/Chester /Vito/Svetlana/Manitoba/Mal - Total Drama
Patrick and Rey Sprigs - Megaman Starforce vs Cassie O'Pia - Psychonauts 2
Bottom Half:
BMO - Adventure Time vs Diavolo and Dopplio - Jojoâs Bizarre Adventure
One-One - Infinity Train vs Sylvie Ashling and Dr. Beefton - Epithet Erased
Kris and the SOUL - Deltarune vs Triad/Luornu Durgo - LoS Legion of Superheroes Post-Zero Hour run/1993-2003 run
Alluka and Nanika Zoldyck - Hunter x Hunter vs Jackson Jekyll and Holt Hyde - Monster High
Mollymauk/Kingsley Tealeaf/Lucien Tavelle - Critical Role vs Sho and Minazuki - Persona 4 Arena Ultimax
Webber - Donât Starve vs Eda Clawthorne - The Owl House
Aubrey Little - The Adventure Zone: Amnesty vs Sawada Tsunayoshi - Katekyo Hitman Reborn
Jace - Magic the Gathering vs Red - Twitch Plays Pokemon
#bracket#We were over halfway done with this and then pasted something too early and apparently control+z gets rid of the entire image post.#And then did it again right after starting again because why not. Habit too ingrained.#Gonna start working on getting some of these ready to post now.
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Peafowls II - Peahen
Very few people knew when he really came back, and Kakavasha preferred it that way. He was welcomed back by Topaz and Ratio, but soon left alone in the spare bedroom. He didnât have to wait long. Funny how despite the many months he was away, he could still pick up on your presence. You were finally together but there was no happy reunion. There was just a tense atmosphere and two people stuck behind habits ingrained into their bones.
He looked away from you and you knew why. He was giving you a choice. To show vulnerability? A test of wits? Or anger? What did you want to show him? You looked at his back. Did you even want him? Ignoring everything, did you want him truly?
How would you feel if he went away, disappeared again? If the last memory of his was his back? If that was the last memory of him in his world?
Your chest tightened. He was human. He could die. He would die. Could you live with it? Your chest tightened. You should be brave, make the first move. Dare to indulge for once, to wager against a regretful decision.
His back was right there. You should just move. But you leaned against a desk and clenched the edge hard in your right hand.
His back was waiting. He should just say something. But your chest tightened harshly, and your throat began to close.
Calm down. You closed your eyes. Calm down.
Heâs not dead yet.
Heâs right here.
You inhaled deeply, willing the emotion down.
Youâre fine. Heâs fine. Nothingâs going wrong. Donât get emotional. It has no use here. Truth does.
Say something!
You clenched harder against the table, fingertips turning white. Why was it so hard?
Did he say something? You heard noise. His voice. Closer.
His back was gone.
Gone.
He called out to you, concern laced in his voice. All games and pretenses were down.
âYouâre fine,â you blustered out.
Damn! Calm down! Donât be useless now. Where are your words?!
He called out to you again, âAre youââ
Humiliation spread throughout. You were not!
âDonât hide yourself. Not in front of me. Itâs okay. After all weâve been through. I deserve itâ.
The tears pooled out. You shut your eyes, scrunched them up tight. You donât understand. You deserve much more than tears.
âYouâre fine,â you warbled out before sinking to the floor.
Kakavasha sank with you, arms wrapping around trying to cushion you. You buried your head in his lap, ashamed of your face. Your arms gripped his clothes.
âIâm fine,â he whispered.
He didnât fully understand the situation. But his uncertainty was gone. How could it linger when he could fell how tightly you gripped his clothes taking care not to pinch his skin. The sudden vulnerability. The tears. You caved, but he didnât see it that way.
âAh my goddess blesses me with rain once more,â he teased.
A snort. Two chuckles. The tears stop as quickly as they came. Then Kakavasha hears a low voice carrying the fortitude he was familiar with.
âIâll do better than your goddessesâ.
âOh,â he cooed. âHow so?â
âIâll love youâ.
There it was. The words he was dying to say and terrified to hear. Those words you both danced around since you first partnered together. It was unfair of him to desire it really. A malicious part of him wondered though. The goddess blessed him, and he suffered all sorts of miseries. What would your love do to him? What more would he have to endure? Could he even bare it?
But donât you want this?
Yes. That really was the thin line. Kakavasha never wanted the goddessâs blessing. He was barely holding onto life with the weight it held in his mind. But the weight on his lap? He could bare it. This goddess who sobbed on his lap because she loved him beyond her own comprehension. He wanted it.
âThank Youâ. Why you wanted to love him, he didnât know. He just started to believe in it, but was still too scared to question it. His soft thanks whispered into your ear would be the first of many thanks he would say as you built each other and your relationship, but it would transform, and one day Kakavasha would bestow you with an âI love youâ.
#hsr#hsr x reader#honkai impact#honkai star rail#honkai star rail x reader#aventurine honkai star rail#aventurine#hsr aventurine#aventurine x reader#hsr aventurine x reader#kakavasha#kakavasha hsr#kakavasha x reader
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Chapter 1: Welcome to the Island
(Art not by me but by eavee_ry on TicTok)
Ok, before you read this, I just wanted to say. Do not judge me, I wanted a ghost hearm. For the sake of my sanity, everyone is aged up to 18. I had fun writing this one and hope you guys enjoy.
TW:Lots of death, obsessive behavior, absolute fucking cringe.
_________________________________________
After Zeke's death, everything started. At first, I wasn't aware of what was going on. No one wanted to tell me about his murder. So when I woke up the night after his death to him laying on top of my chest, I thought nothing of it. Zeke had a habit of coming into my cabin and just cuddling with me out of fear, so I just figured the reason he was gone, because he got lost in the woods and when he came back was scared to get lost again. Waking up that morning, he was gone. I figured he went to get food, but when I got there, he wasn't there. I had asked Duncken, the only other person in the canteen, if he had seen Zeke, but all I got from him was a horrified look. Then, seemingly at random, the other campers started to come up to me asking me to help find Zeke, giving the excuse of playing Hide and Seek, his favorite game. So I would help them, and find him in the oddest spots. He would jump out and hug me excited.
Then came Lindsy. Apparently the night of her death I was so deep in sleep, I didnât hear the chaos of the killer outside the cabins. Later in the night, I felt a hand gently going through my hair along with the weight of Zeke on top of me. From what I could see looking up, it was Lindsy, I couldn't see her very well, but the smell of cherry blossoms was the only real identification to it being her. Between the two of them, I started sleeping really well after this, and they would visit me every night, especially, when there has been a killing.
Next was Sadie. Katie and Sadie never, and I mean Never apart. So, when Katie came back to camp without Sadie that made, real suspicious of what was going on here. Katie said Sadie got lost, and she couldn't find her. That didnât sound right. The only thing with this was, I couldn't understand why she would lie to me. And after I saw Sadie near my door that next night, I thought, maybe Katie didnât lie, but then I didn't see them together the next day. It worried me.
The last one that made me aware of what was happening was Justen. The two of us were walking together, when he suddenly stopped talking. I went looking for him without anyone noticing. I still have what I saw ingrained into my mind. There was a man over Justen, cutting his face off. I hid from the man. All I could think about at that moment was âIs this what they were hiding from me?â but then I think about how I have seen my friends every night. âBut did I really?â Thinking about it, each night, it has been too dark to really see them, I could only guess it was them. I could smell Lindsyâs perfume, I saw Zekeâs face, and I could only see the silhouette of Sadie. If the case was they are dead.. âWho was I seeing?â
I needed to know who I was seeing, so the next night, I pretended to fall asleep. It took hours, and by god I really did almost fall asleep. But then, I felt a shift in my bunk. A weight was placed on top of me, Zeke. I had put a flashlight under the blanket where my hand was, so once iâm ready I could turn it on. Soon after I felt the weight I heard the door open, after a short moment I felt a hand gentle, run through my hair, Lindsy. The door opening made me realize Zeke didnât come through the door. After a bit more of waiting, I felt watched, but before I started to move I heard Justin's voice, which if it wasn't for me trying to keep calm I would have freaked out. A quiet conversation broke out between Zeke, Sadie and Justin. I could only really hear when Zeke replied. They seemed to be talking about me, thatâs all I could get from Zeke. They seemed to be talking about my day. Primarily the bad things, but they completely missed me witnessing Justin's murrder. I guess that is a good thing.
So now I'm here. Too scared to pull off my plane and just try to seem asleep. They donât seem to be able to tell I'm not asleep, which for this moment is good. Mustering up all my courage, I pretend to sturr awake like I have done many times before. They become quiet, and I look around, like every time I have woken up before. Seeing each shadow, I get nervous to do this. I donât know what I'll see, it's anything at all but I need to know. So, taking what little curgere I had left, and getting ready to sprint away if necessary, I make a quick, unexpected move to grab my flashlight and shine it in a way to light up the whole room. What I saw made me want to hurl. Between all the gore, and grotesque appearance of my âFriends' ' I could see that they were surprised at what I had done. I made a move to run. In their shock, I was able to get out and run to the boys cabin. In fear, I slipped into Geoffâs bunk.
I woke him up, but at that moment I didnât care, I was scared that my cabin wouldn't work right now. âHey, hey are you ok?â I look up at him and shake my head no. He just nods and holds me close.
Hours have passed, and I still canât sleep. Every little noise, every little shift of the bed, prevents me from going to sleep. Every little thing made me cling to Goeff more. The image of what I saw still stains my mind. Out of all 4 of them, Zeke was what got to me the most. He was lying on top of me, but he was all chopped up. Every night, I could only see his face, but looking at him all the way, his head was cut off, his legs and arms were chopped in 4âs. His eyes were so dead. I still donât fully know what was happening, but I know they're dead, and that thought terrifies me.
#island of the slaughtered#yandere#yandere writing#tdi island of the slaughtered#yandere tdi#yandere island of the slaughtered
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37 and 56 episodeâŠ4? of tcp caleb/adam but caleb had a nightmare and adam tries to help in the only way he knows (knew) how
hi friend! ok this is ep 3 au where they fall asleep before exploring! i did not reread this so hopefully it makes sense lol
as comfort (37) and out of habit (56)
Adam can't sleep, and he'd like to think it's the anticipation of exploration tomorrow. But he's pretty sure it's because of the boy in his living room.Â
With a sigh of frustration, Adam climbs out of bed and pads to the kitchen, hoping a glass of water will ease his mind. (It used to work, when he was little, before he met Caleb. Then it was Caleb who helped him sleep.)Â
I can't think like that, Adam berates himself. They've been broken up for a year now, and he needs to get a handle on himself, because that isn't how you interact with your ex.Â
He fills a cup from the sink and takes a long drink, trying to settle himself. Bed, rest, sleep, relaxation, restoration⊠The exercise from long ago crosses his mind, and Adam spends a long minute trying to think through more word associations. His body relaxes, and as he finishes his water, Adam finally feels ready to sleep.
Until the night is split by a low moan.
Adam startles, because he recognizes the noise. Having slept in the same bed as Caleb for years means that they are intimately aware of each otherâs nightmare habits.
And Calebâs start like this exactly.
Itâs not my place, Adam thinks. Theyâre not together, and comforting after a nightmare definitely veers into boyfriend territory. This is what heâs not supposed to be doing.
But then the noise comes again, and Adam can picture Calebâs face crumpled up, his eyes squeezed tight as he battles whatever his mind comes up with.Â
A good friend wouldnât leave someone in turmoil, right?
Adam knows itâs a bad idea, but the instinct to help Caleb is so ingrained in him that heâs stepping into the living room before he can stop himself. Caleb is on the couch, blankets twisted around him from thrashing.Â
Caleb takes up so much physical space, Adam had almost forgotten that extended to his sleeping habits too. He's as spread out as he can be on the shitty couch Caitlin bought, and his face is scrunched up just like Adam thought. It sends a pang of longing and sadness through his heartâa reminder of what he lost.
Caleb grunts, then mutters, âNoâŠ.didn't meanâŠâ
The fear in his voice is enough to shatter the last of Adam's defenses. He slides down to his knees by the couch, calling softly, âCaleb, wake up.â
Not that he really expected it to work. Calebâs dreams have always kept a tight hold on him. Physical touch is the only thing that will wake Caleb up.
This close, Adam can't remember why they broke up. The last year is wiped from his memoryâhe's just a boy trying to soothe someone he loves.
Caleb whimpers, and Adam reacts. He presses his lips to Caleb's, just enough pressure to let him know that he's there, to pull him out of the depths of his nightmare.
Adam pulls back, and Calebâs face has smoothed just a bit. He's almost there (and Adam doesn't want to know what it says about him that he knows what the different stages of Caleb's nightmares look like), so Adam doesn't let himself think, just leans down and kisses him even softer.
âWake up, Caleb,â Adam says.
And there it isâCalebâs eyes shoot open and he breathes sharply, taking a moment to orient himself. Adam leans back, giving him space.
The sudden realization of what he did hits Adam like a stack of books to his chest. He's done the exact thing he wasn't supposed toâthat isn't his to do anymore. He kissed Caleb, without asking for permission or thinking it through. And now Caleb's ability is probably going wild.
âSorry, you were having a nightmare,â Adam whispers, not daring to look at Caleb. âI'll just goâŠâ
He stands shakily and makes his way to the hallway. He hesitates, but Caleb is silent behind him. Shame fills Adam, and he walks back to his bedroom, cursing himself the whole way.
Maybe bringing Caleb here wasn't the smartest move after all.
send me a ship and a kiss!
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His hands moved out of habit, grabbing cans from a box and setting them on the shelf. Almost a decade of the same shit everyday had ingrained the menial task into his muscles. Koohyun briefly wondered what other things he did repeatedly without ever really thinking too deeply about them. There was plenty of mundane tasks that he had accumulated in a giant list in an attempt to be a normal functioning adult. What was the reason? To prove his parents wrong? Even though he had no real desire for their approval. He had long since stopped caring about them wanting him to be more like them. He just didnât want to be bothered by people. He supposed at least pretending to be normal in public was okay. He was tired of his internal feud. He didnât want to care about othersâ opinion of him but he was acutely aware of everyone at work staring at him throughout the day. Especially lately.
Had he done anything out of the ordinary? Maybe. He couldnât hone in on any particular incident. So he was standing at work, clearing his head while doing the menial tasks. After stacking cans he moved onto refilling the snack shelves towards the back of the aisle. He didnât want to be near the front end. Koohyun tried to avoid the front end because the cashiers had a habit of trying to strike up conversations with him. And he hated talking at work. He didnât even want to talk to customers. It was more exhausting than any manual labor he had ever done before. It was never a simple cut and dry conversation. Especially with the amount of tourists that would come in for snacks. The amount of American girls who would start snapping pictures of the colourful snack packaging and asking strange questions was staggering.
Maybe his lack of socializing with the new employees was causing issues. Koohyun thought, remembering that he was a manager and was in fact responsible for training the new stockers. And showing them around the store. He had been ignoring that aspect of his job. He usually left training to the other managers. He wasnât great at explaining tasks to people.
He frowned behind his mask and cut the tape on his box, breaking it down and tucking it under his arm before he walked to the backroom. He needed to sit down and think for a moment. Not that it was time for a break or that he really wanted to take a break. He just wanted to figure out why everyone seemed to be acting just a little different around him. It wasnât really noticeable at first. But Koohyun was certain that some of the front end employees had been staring at him longer than a simple glance. But none had tried to approach him to speak. Perhaps they were talking about him? What would he do then? Most likely nothing, Koohyun wasnât keen on confronting people who talked about him. Whether it was good or bad. He just didnât want people to talk about him. If they had an issue it would be nice if they would just say it to him directly.
He tossed the flattened box into the baler so it could be tied and recycled later. He tugged his mask off, letting it hang from one ear as he grabbed a bottle of water. It was room temp and had a stale taste. He had a bad habit of leaving his waters scattered around his stockroom but everyone was kind enough to not move them around. The basic level of respect, he figured. He sighed again and leaned against one of the racks of backstock. He was staring at the other shelves but he wasnât really looking at them. He had tossed aside the thoughts about his coworkers acting differently. Now he was thinking about what he would eat after work. He had a rare double day off lined up and was thinking he would treat himself to something he hadnât eaten in awhile. But he couldnât think of what. He did have a bit of a hankering for pizza but he really wasnât sure if that would satisfy his taste. Sometimes food just didnât hit the spot right and made him feel like he had wasted his time eating it.
âOh! Sorry..â One of the cashiers had come into the backroom so she could get to the breakrooms. She seemed startled to see Koohyun in the back. She flashed a small smile and brushed past to go take her break.
Koohyun watched her from his peripheral vision and couldâve sworn she had turned back to look at him twice in the short distance to the break area. He took a sip of his water before he set it down on the backstock shelf and grabbed a different box to take to the sales floor. There was always more room for the godawful snacks that tourists would buy. It didnât take long to unload the box, break it down, and come back to toss it into the baler. He was wasting time by taking boxes out one by one. It wasnât like anybody was going to complain about it. Not to be conceited but Koohyun was highly valued by the corporate level managers. They never questioned his method because he always got the shit done and the paperwork was filed that backed it up. And his current bossâ boss was the one who handled all of Koohyunâs employment records. His job was much more secured than his bossâ was. And he wondered if maybe that was why the other employees had started looking at him differently. Had he started giving off a different vibe? Koohyun paused in grabbing another box. He stared at the cardboard as he thought. He knew sometimes he could have a cocky strut. He had felt more comfortable around this store lately, it had been over a year since he had transferred to this location. So maybe he had started to walk around like he ran the place? That type of confidence could cause people to look at him differently. That was the most likely cause. It had happened at his old store. People had gotten annoyed with him acting like he ran the show, even though technically he did. He had been brought in by upper management to fix that locationâs freight problem. People did seem to get annoyed when someone new messed with their way of doing things. And Koohyun was usually doing things his own way, not the way trained by corporate. That was the most logical reason for people behaving differently around him.
It was also entirely possible that Koohyun was being paranoid and mistaking innocent glances as longer stares. He wasnât always great at understanding other peopleâs actions. He would figure it out eventually. But he didnât want to deal with the uncomfortableness of thinking people were watching him work. It made it harder to zone out. If he became too aware of people watching him he might end up doing something embarrassing like dropping items or even tripping on his own feet.
âExcuse me, sorry.â The same cashier was trying to exit the stockroom now. Her break apparently over. Koohyun stepped to the side, leaning against the backstock shelves to give her more room to walk. But instead of walking out of the room she stopped near him. âAre you new here?â She asked and Koohyun was too stunned to reply for a moment.
âNew?â He raised a brow and shook his head. âNo. Iâve been here for a year or so.â He shrugged. Why was she talking to him? He couldnât think of why she thought he was new.
âOh.â Her cheeks turned pink. âSorry. I never saw you around before. I started a couple of weeks ago.â She tucked her hair behind her ear. Koohyun noted the silver hoops, she had three piercings in her earlobe.
âIâm not usually hear during the day.â He shrugged again. His eyes met hers. She had colour contacts in, they were brown to match her eye colour. He didnât really understand why people would wear contacts in similar colours to their own eyes.
âOh.. I see.â She laughed softly.
Koohyun wasnât sure why she was talking to him. Her break should be over. Which meant that she should be back up at the register by now so the next person could take their break. But it seemed like she wanted to say something else. Koohyun wasnât great at conversations in the workplace. âGets busy during the day. Lots of tourists.â He stated and she nodded in agreement. He figured that he had killed the conversation successfully and he stopped leaning back on the shelf so he could get back to work. But she made no effort to go back to the front end of the store.
âWell, uhhm, Iâm Yang Jihye, cashier. But I look forward to working with you.â She was smiling again.
âYeah..â He nodded. âLee Koohyun. Freight Manager.â He glanced towards the backroom doors. âYou should probably get back to the front before you get in trouble with Nana.â He gestured towards the door. Alluding to the front end manager who got agitated if the break schedule was thrown off too much. Jihye grinned before disappearing out of the backroom. Leaving Koohyun very perplexed. He had a new thing to ponder about for the rest of this shift.Â
Because what the fuck was up with that random introduction?
#krp#chickenshit.#scrawling.#[ it's because he's a dense dumbass. ]#[ but that thought wont cross his mind because its work and work is work ]#[ its because the girls at work think he's cute. yuck. ]#[ i want to write more stuff. but this isn't what i wanted to write today. ]#[ scrawling will be a drabble type of tag. i have some ideas for other stuff. but that will wait for my day off. oof. ]
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5 Tips to Manage your Procrastination
Weâve all done it at some time or other. We put off our exercise routine until tomorrow, we continually delay finishing that project or starting that business.
Procrastination is a common issue for people at work, home, and school. Procrastination takes many forms. At times, you may not even realize you procrastinate. You might be doing something that is still productive but takes you away from your goals and make justifications to yourself. We all do it! "At least I took out the garbage and did the laundry". Even though that project didn't get done once again. You may also be procrastinating if you spend a lot of time on email or social media, fill your time with insignificant tasks, or wait for the right mood or conditions to begin a task. It is also important to recognise why you procrastinate so you can change your mindset. Common reasons for procrastination include fear of success, not enjoying the task/finding it boring, issues with organization, feeling overwhelmed by the size of the task, perfectionism or poor decision making. It can be most helpful to address these issues individually.
Here are 5 effective processes you can use to slay this giant.
Do it now
Hold your breath and jump right in! Putting things off until the last minute is a bad habit and like all habits is ingrained in our subconscious mind and hard to break. It feels like the normal thing to do and we simply continue along our path. To complete a task immediately may even feel strange or like a forced action.
2. Take baby steps
Sometimes we procrastinate because the task may be intimidating to us. Perhaps we have no possible inkling on where to start. In these cases, it is quite fine to take it one step at a time. Say you are preparing a business plan and for the 5th time this week, youâve turned on the PC and looked at the blank screen. Or youâve just remembered you need to do some more research before you beginâŠyouâre still not ready. It can help to break down the project into smaller pieces and tackle each bit separately. Make each task an individual project and after completion of each one, celebrate and acknowledge your achievement.
3. Accountability buddy
Having someone hold you accountable can be a great way to manage procrastination. You can ask a friend or coworker about your goals for the day and have them check in on you to see how you are doing. Some people find that studying in groups or just at the library around others helps them stay on task because others are nearby. They can help keep you focused and on track and cheer you on when you are doing well.
4. Support team
Do you put off tasks because you feel that they are too big and complex for you to handle alone? Or because you need assistance? Be honest with yourself. Ask for help! There are many resources out there that can provide you with all you need to carry out your job. If youâre a solo-professional and you put off answering emails, then donât answer them yourself. Hire an assistant, find some college students that want experience, or get a family member to help. Procrastinating on life changing activities could be as a result of fear of the unknown. Get a mastermind group together, find a mentor, or a coach, or join a support group. You donât have to do it all by yourself. Just ensure that to kick this habit, you do what feels good to you in whatever method you choose.
5. Reward Yourself
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»» â { ⥠} ââ { ⥠} ââ { ⥠} â ««
later | m. izukuÂ
âł tags ;; fluff, confessions, deku is smooth, kissing, fluff, fem!reader implied i thinkÂ
âł wc ;; 2.4k (wtf)Â
âł a/n ;; brainrot......Â
âł plot ;; izuku midoriya listens to you when you tell him to confess to you again later. heâs waited his whole life for you but he doesnât know how much longer he can
»» â { ⥠} ââ { ⥠} ââ { ⥠} â ««
He thinks to himself often that it has to be you heâs been chasing all this time.Â
This isnât so much a revelation to him. Itâs nothing like eureka moment, an aha that he uncovers after years of reflection. After all, heâs not the type to know what he really wants.Â
Which is funny for many reasons but mostly because heâs a hero. He did want that, still does - but it wasnât really an active choice. It wasnât the desire to become a hero in terms of glamour and fame but a deep-seated knowing about the fact he had to become one. That the desire to save people above all else was rooted and deeply ingrained in him that there would never be anything that would fulfill him quite the same way.Â
He finds it more often than not heâs acting out of pure instinct. Something carnal and perhaps other-worldly that pins him to the world in an almost divine way. All or nothing, thereâs one way to approach existence and itâs with this unwavering desire to be kind.Â
Heâs always been that kind of person.
But, if he sat down and thought about it, the desire to be with you is perhaps one of his own. Itâs one of the only things heâd chase to the ends of the earth.Â
Izuku Midoriya has loved you since he was 14
The first time he ever confessed to you was when he was 15, about half way into his first year at U.A. It was outside of your apartment - your childhood home. Heâd walk you there after his classes, when he caught you returning from your own. It was an awkward and clumsy teenage confession even then but he can remember the details clearly.Â
It comes to him a series of images. Orange-yellow light that fell over your face, hairs sticking a little your head, trembling hands, ricocheting heartbeats, the sound of cars passing. He wasnât very confident then, it makes him laugh thinking back at. But he told you anyways, bursting at the seams with his feelings.Â
âI like you!âÂ
Your first reaction was shock immediately followed with a somber smile. Though he told you he had liked you, it was in the brief moment afterwards that he though there was more to it than that. He wouldnât call it a rejection, but a wake-up call. You leaned in to kiss his cheek before whispering something back.Â
âIf you mean it,â â you whisper, hand on his shoulder and eyes heavy â âTell me again later,âÂ
With that, you turned on your heel and went home. He wasnât sure how to feel for a while, because itâs not like you said no. And you kissed him so that had to mean something.
Rather predictably after that, he became so caught up in hero work, it was only natural that you two grew distant. Once frequent conversations became words in passing, spoken quietly to each other. He went off to become a great hero, and you went off to study what you love.Â
It was a natural occurrence - he knows this now. He wonders what kind of thinking you had to have been doing to know that at 15. The older he got, the more he thought about what you said. How the once vague mention of âlaterâ became a narrow time-frame. Not a moment too soon and not a second too later.Â
Izuku Midoriya has loved you all of 8 years. For most of them, itâs been a passive yearning. The emptiness of his bedframe and his disinterest. 8 years and heâs tried and failed to love other people. Maybe he was testing if later would ever come.Â
Heâs 22 and he thinks to himself that heâs been chasing the feeling of loving you this whole time. That adrenaline from when you kissed his cheek all those years ago, he wonders to himself if itâs still there
Heâll have to go find out
_Â
After a night-out, you are unfortunately sober on the walk home. Work dinners should have a general policy for how much someone can drink, you think. Maybe then you wouldnât have had to shovel your boss into a taxi and remain regrettably conscious through a series of uncomfortable or agitating questions.Â
It wasnât like he was invasive but he was.. annoying? And the fact you couldnât sit through it by downing half a bottle of wine was a real shame . Youâre so stone cold sober that your body shivers in the night air. Heels clacking against the pavement, eyes heavy and exhausted. You could endure it, you were finally going home after all.Â
Youâd take a warm bath and hit the hay. Your body yearned for your bed and you donât blame it. You sigh to yourself, hands in coat pockets.Â
âJust a little bit more,â â you sigh, yawning and wiping your eyes â âA little more and Iâll be...home?âÂ
You were home, the front door to your building. There was an ominous looking figure sitting on the front steps. Your first reaction was to reach into your pockets and grab your keys between your knuckles. Your heart stuttered as you broached slowly. It was too dark to see clearly but maybe he was nice.Â
âUhm.. excuse me, sirâÂ
When he turns his head - your first reaction is to flinch. You step back as he turns his head only to grow stiff. A pair of warm green eyes and head of forest green locks await seems to be staring back at you. He gives you a warm smile - standing on his feet.Â
In a way, heâs unrecognizable to you. Though you see him all the time, Pro-Hero Deku making news, the image of him in your head is permanently small and frail. In front of you now, heâs grown up to be so big. A whole head taller than you and broad. Heâs lean but clearly muscular. Intimidating in a sense.Â
âAh, youâre home,â â he says, non-chalant. Youâre trying to recall the last time you spoke to him, the last time youâd even seen him. Maybe a year ago now? â âI wanted to talk to you,â
Your first though is to ask questions. You had so many of them though, youâre not sure where to start. You want to ask how heâs been, and how did he find you, and howâs work going. You want to ask why heâs here after all this time and if following his dreams has made him happy how he hoped. You want to ask if he remember what he said to you at 15 - wondering if he still gets caught up on it like you do.Â
None of your words seem to string together right so you just shake your head a little, managing your disbelief.Â
âAbout what?â you ask. He pauses for a second, rubbing his chin before smiling at you.Â
âItâs later,â
Your eyes widen as he steps out of the way, using his hands to gesture towards your apartment. You blink at him but his smile is as cheeky as ever. Teasing and unusually handsome. You flush down to your neck before nodding.Â
âOh, uhm.. right. Okay,ââ you say, walking towards your complex doors â âC-come on in,âÂ
_
âYou can uh.. take your shoes off at the door,â â you say, after taking your own heels off and rushing to the kitchen â âThe green slippers should fit you,âÂ
He nods as he watches you disappear to the kitchen. He takes in your apartment with a soft smile. Photos of you with your friends and family litter the entrance way. Itâs filled with a soft yellow light, cozy like heâd expect. From below him, he hears a soft purrÂ
A beige cat walks around his legs, observing him quietly before nuzzling against his thigh. His smile grows wide as he squats down and holds his hand for the kitty, waiting for it to approve of him before reaching and petting him. The cat is quick to the jump into his forearms.Â
âWhoâs this?âÂ
He ducks as he enters into the main area of your apartment. Your eyes widen as your usually stand-offish cat nuzzles comfortably in your childhood friends chest.Â
âHis name is Creampuff,â â you say, mildly stunned â âHeâs two,âÂ
âWhat a good boy,âÂ
Your heart races as you see him. After all this time, his presence still gives you those nervous butterflies. Maybe itâs because heâs become so attractive. Broader and taller but more rugged to look at.You feel like the floor might swallow you up.Â
âIâll.. put on some tea,âÂ
You take off your coat but youâre still in your work clothes. If you didnât know any better, youâd say heâs staring at you. Youâre too afraid to look behind you and see, confirm but his gaze is so heavy youâre almost certain. He traces the outline of your body and back with his eyes.Â
He canât help but think youâve filled out some. Even from behind - you look awfully pretty. You look disheveled and sleepy like you did back in highschool, after cramming for exams. A little older now with that same cute expression on your face. Itâs hard to hold back or tear himself from you - so he doesnât try. He just watches as you pour the tea into mugs and let it steep. Minutes pass and itâs quiet but not as uncomfortable as youâd expect.Â
You return to your kitchen table with two mugs, setting his down on a coaster.Â
âCareful.. itâs hot,âÂ
He nods, taking the mug in his hands and blowing on it before taking a sip. He hums.Â
âAh.. itâs good. Thank you,âÂ
A silence settle between you briefly. Your heart is in your throat, hands trembling a little on the table. When he notices, he reaches for them. This is another of his habits, you think. Comforting people must be second nature to him, but it only makes you more nervous.
âSo.. howâve you been?âÂ
Itâs the only thing you can think to ask. He studies your expression for a while. It used to the opposite of this. He used to be the nervous one, stuttery and unsure. You were always confident and steady - heâs sure you still are. This side of you is endearing though. He chuckles.Â
âIâve been good. Work is hectic but thatâs always,â â and youâre going to ask him another question. Dodge what heâs really here for, but he cuts you off â âIâve missed you though, so I came to visit,âÂ
You can feel it. This tension that presses against your back and makes you sit straight. He has that determined look in his eyes, easily recognizable when you watch him. In interviews and during fights and everything in between - like he knows what heâs going up against. To have it directed at you is so nerve-wracking, you find yourself doling under the pressure of his gaze.Â
You fidget, voice shaking like a leaf in the wind. He was always too much for to you handle.Â
âO-oh?,âÂ
He nods, taking your hand in his. He holds it to his lips, kisses your knuckles like itâs the easiest thing in the world. You wonder where he learned to act like this. Heâs different but the same. Itâs too much for you so you shut your eyes.Â
He stands until heâs on your side of the table. Rests on the corners edge with his arms crossed over his chest. He looks at you with fondness, an unmistakable affection. After all these years, itâs only grown. Double and tripled in size. No matter how much he would try and punch it down, it never deflates.Â
He thinks loving you is an act of heroism. The only way he could ever really save himself. 8 years and it feels like youâre old friends. Nothing unnatural or wholly uncomfortable. Itâs strange.Â
âI thought about what you said. About telling you later. This time though,â â he drops to the floor, crouched between your legs so slightly. He does it to look straight at you â âThis time though, I have to tell you properly so you canât make me wait again,âÂ
âI wasnât making you wait,â you insist. He takes your hand in his and you unravel, body slumped. He kisses the palms of your hands, the inside of your wrist and it feels like gravity has no mercy on you.Â
âIt felt like hell,â â he tells you â âI canât sit still anymore so Iâm telling you now. Even if you want to run away, I canât let you,âÂ
You frown, heart rapid.Â
âThatâs not very heroic,âÂ
He smiles.Â
âGood. I donât wanna be your hero. I just want to love you selfishly as Izuku and not Deku,â â he says, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles â âSo tell me you love me back and grant my wish. I waited all this time,âÂ
Youâre stunned into silence at his request. Eyes feeling especially water as he leans into you. It doesnât make sense but it feels right. Your heart is beating - like you can feel all the blood pumping in you and your head feels light.Â
âYou say it so easily,âÂ
He laughs. Itâs bright just like how you remember.Â
âHow could you know after all this time? How could you be sure?âÂ
He shrugs. You hit his shoulder at the nonchalance but he only chuckles. He leans in closer to you, inches away from your face.Â
âI waited for you all this time. Shouldnât you give me a chance to show you?âÂ
You sniffle as his hands cup your cheeks. His smile is so inviting, how could you refuse him?
âIâd like to kiss you,â â he pauses, shaking his head â âI want to show you. Let me,âÂ
You nod as he leans into you. His lips are pillow and soft - touch addicting. You give into him so easily, tongue tied. He keeps you close, hand at the base of your neck. It feels so good, so perfect. You believe him when he kisses you like this With secrets under his tongue, between his teeth.Â
âTell me your answer,â â he demands, soft but stern â âYou didnât before. I need to hear it,âÂ
You give him an exasperated laugh.Â
âI love you.. obviouslyâÂ
Right. Obviously indeed.Â
»» â { ⥠} ââ { ⥠} ââ { ⥠} â ««
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Inertia
prompt: a man gains weight trying to get his ex-girlfriend back, but goes way too far and gets addicted to gaining
He hadnât gone to the gym even once in ages.
After a year of singlehood, he wasnât ashamed to admit anymore that heâd only really gone in the first place to impress women. Ironic, of course, since his ex had never been more than vaguely dissatisfied about his gym habit.
When they first started dating, he had love handles he hated and his thighs had been too thick. He assumed she dated him despite these flaws. Only after he lost weight to please her did he find out that it was his chub that caught her eye. It was bigger guys she was into. It was a lot of miscommunication. A lot of insecurity on his part, since what her preferences meant was that she wanted him to be a little heavy, and he couldnât possibly accept that with his society-ingrained doctrines about attractiveness.
But those doctrines meant fuck-all now; he was eating a double cheeseburger in his car, helping it down with an orange soda, thinking about dessert. He was wondering if sheâd be proud of him now that heâd gained thirty pounds. He wondered if sheâd look at him with half-lidded eyes like she used to, if he put on another thirty. Fifty. Whatever.
His phone buzzes. He sits up straighter, belly swelling a little into his lap. Itâs her.
Hey. My friend needs to sell her two tickets. I know itâs your favorite band. Interested?
The next text was a link to an information page about an upcoming concert. Heâd been so disconnected lately, he hadnât even heard about it.
Even though he wasnât actually all that interested, he replied that he was, and they set a date to meet up the next week. Shit. He looked down at himself. If she were someone else, she might be repelled. But she wasnât someone elseâŠ
He was hit with a brilliant, maybe brilliantly stupid, idea. Itâs execution began with going right back through the drive thru.
In the days leading up to seeing his ex again, he ate almost constantly. Since he was only doing freelance online at the moment, his work didnât get in the way of this. He let himself eat whatever he wanted, in amounts three times what his body craved. He pushed himself to a state of being constantly past full. She liked fat guys? Fine. Even if she still didnât want anything to do with him, he wanted her to see what he could have been, if he hadnât been such a gym-rat douchebag. If heâd let himself become a lazy, docile boyfriend like she wanted instead, weak and overweight.
It was hard, gaining a lot of weight in a week. The number on the scale didnât go up as much as he expected, even though heâd eaten enough calories to gain twenty pounds at least. He compensated by showing up to their meeting spot wearing clothes that tightly hugged his body, which now had a good forty-ish pounds of fat clinging to it. Looking in the mirror before he left, heâd almost seen what she was into. His ass had gotten kind of wide and dumpy, but in a sexy way?
He was all nerves when she showed up looking healthy and cute and indifferent about him, holding the tickets in her hands. Almost indifferent. She definitely gave him a once-over, when she thought he wasnât looking. He could tell she bit the inside of her lip.
âWell,â she said, meeting his eyes fearlessly. Were her cheeks a little red, or was that wishful thinking? âIâll see you.â
âReally?â he blurted. âKinda miss hanging out.â
She smiled and turned to leave. âMaybe.â
He went home and binged hard.
*
In contrast to how he grew too slowly in the week before meeting up with her, in the weeks afterward, he gained weight doubletime. Fat rounded him out as easy as if he were a swiftly filling water balloon, engorging his thighs and belly and ass and hips wide and heavy. He ate compulsively as his appetite skyrocketed, as cravings crushed his will to restrain himself. His budget was thrown out of whack as he spent his savings on pantry loads of unhealthy food. His clothes stretched and seams snapped as he struggled to fit in his largest clothes. He shopped in the plus sized section first for comfort, then by necessity.
All the while he could only think: I wished she was watching.
He started imagining her with him. In the car as he ate fast food. At the store as he bought new clothes. Walking beside him as he forced himself to get exercise.
âSlow down, big guy.â âNo, I think you need one size bigger.â âSweating already? Youâre so out of shape.â
Why did he like it? Imagining her mocking him? Teasing him? Eyeing his body, fleshy and overfed.
The next time she texted, it was late at night, and his eyes were glazed watching television, eating huge spoonfuls of that miracle drug called Nutella. His belly swelled out of his shirt. His breasts and face were puffy. According to the numbers he punched into Google, he had long crossed the threshold of obesity.
How was the concert?
He stared at the words. This was it. Maybe his only chance. He replied: Didnât go after all. Been feeling off lately.
To his (very manly) delight, this prompted more questions, and it became clear she wanted a real conversation. Was she thinking of him? Missing him like he missed her? He thought out every response with the careful focus of a rocket scientist. He wasnât going to mess this up.
He didnât seem to, and they texted into the early hours of the morning, catching up. Finally, finally she asked to meet up with him again, and - feeling more eager, a little reckless - he tapped out a disclaimer. Or to her, hopefully: motivation.
Just so you arenât shocked when you see me, Iâve put on weight since I bought those tickets from you. Iâm not sensitive about it or anything, but itâs a lot. So hereâs a fair warning.
He held his breath as he waited for her reply. Held his breath. Held itâŠ
Oh. Really?
Like before, they set a time the following week. This time, to get coffee. No big deal.
He knew he had more than fulfilled his little scheme of putting on weight to catch her attention, and he could push the breaks now, but he felt helpless against his inertia. At this point, heâd cultivated half a dozen habits that had his weight steadily rising, and he couldnât just turn them off. If he so much as thought of eating less, his whole body seized up in fearful anticipation and unhappiness, and he found himself cramming a couple moonpies into his mouth just to calm down.
He gained another six pounds between their text conversation and their coffee date. He felt so out of control, so out of shape, so out of line with the standards of popular society that he felt oddlyâŠfree. In a way, he felt free of anxious self-consciousness as he heaved himself out of his car and waved at her through the coffee shop window. She was sitting in a corner at a table for two. Despite his warning, she looked a little shocked.
When he sat down across from her, his huge ass hanging off the ends of the seat, she appeared to inhale deeply. Her expression was inscrutable.
âYou werenât kidding,â she said.
Blushing, he supposed he deserved a bit of tactlessness, for the tactless way he broke up with her. âWhat? Oh. Yeah, no. I wasnât.â
She sipped her coffee, eyes flicking between his flabby chest and his flabby face. In a low tone that no one else would hear, she said, âWhat happened? For you to get fat as fuck.â
He opened his mouth and closed it. This wasnât how he was expecting this to go. âWell. Iâve been working from home, stressed out. I let myself go andâŠâ He trailed off when he realized her eyes were cold. No - so hot they seemed cold, like his shower water when turned to the highest setting.
âIs this because of me?â she asked, cutting to the chase. She crossed her legs, now openly surveying him. âDid you decide it was okay to gain a hundred pounds because you thought Iâd be into it?â
He was speechless. He swallowed.
âWell? Do you want me back that badly? Ever since I saw you last time, all chubbed out, Iâve been thinking maybe I should give you a second chance.â
âUm.â
âBut I donât knowâŠâ She shrugged, but a smirk was hiding just behind that indifferent frown, and he wanted. He wanted her forgiveness, whatever that meant. âHow about you gain a hundred more and weâll go on a real date? Sound good? Youâre not the only fat guy out there.â
She was full-on grinning now, and he missed her little games like this. He could play them, too.
âMaybe, but I bet Iâm the only guy whoâs gotten this fat for you,â he said. She was immediately affected by this, and he licked his lips. âYou really want to wait to see me a hundred pounds bigger than this, or do you want to stick around to watch?â
Even quieter, she said, âYou saying you like gaining weight? How convenient.â
So she still doubted him. He put out his hands for her to see. âJust look. Look at how fat my hands are. I canâtâŠâ And finally his composure cracked a little. âI canât stop. I couldnât stop if I wanted. Even if you never talk to me again, Iâm gonna gain weight.â
Any playfulness was gone now from her. She looked like she wanted him, too. âHmm. Maybe we should go before you break that poor chair, huh?â
He blushed again. God, he was getting docile. âIâm not that bad,â he muttered. But she gave him a cruel grin. She hadnât entirely forgiven him. âYou will be.â
And he knew then: he was doomed. He was already a little bit into his own heaviness, and she was going to take that feeling and amplify it tenfold. She was going to enable every bad habit he had, watch him flounder under his increasing size and become weaker under layers and layers of fat until he could barely lift a two pound dumbbell.
He knew she wanted this to happen, and maybe heâd broken up with her before because heâd been afraid.
But he wasnât anymore.
âLetâs go then,â he said.
*
Thank you to the reader who commissioned this work!
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Beautifully Spent
aka Five Times Lan Qiren Left The Lan Sect Behind
- Chapter 2 -
A/N: As a note, each of these chapters is a separate story with a different point of divergence from canon timeline.
When Lan Wangji was six years old, and Lan Xichen nine, their mother died, breaking their hearts. Even Lan Qiren, who had never liked He Kexin and might have even hated her for having ruined all his dreams of travel, felt her absence keenly â he kept thinking of her at odd times, a matter of irrepressible habit. I should tell her about this next week, he would think as he watched his nephews accomplish something, or, upon receiving an offer to go night-hunting, We canât go because we wouldnât be able to make it back in time for the monthly visit, and then heâd abruptly remember she was dead and there would be no more monthly visits.
One time, sitting and watching Lan Wangji carefully practice his calligraphy during the time that would normally have been their monthly visit, he even found himself inexplicably wiping tears out of his eyes. It had been a struggle, but theyâd finally gotten Lan Wangji to stop going to her door, ignoring snow and chill to wait there as if simply willing it would allow the door to open again, but he remained overly quiet, even quieter than heâd been before, the loss hurting him deeply, and seeing him hurt had hurt Lan Qiren. He tried to be subtle about it, to hide his abrupt display of emotionality, but before he knew it, Lan Wangji had come over to stand by his side, his little hands holding his own, earnestly mumbling, âDonât cry, shufu, itâll be all rightâ in an echo of what Lan Qiren had been trying so ineffectually to say to him.
âYes,â he said, wiping harder, and ultimately giving up entirely and letting the tears stream down his cheeks, hiding his face entirely behind one of his sleeves. Lan Xichen found them at some point and curled up into Lan Qirenâs other side, tears starting to slowly seep down his own face; trying to hold back their strange shared grief was like trying to stop the tide. âIt will be all right, eventually. I promise.â
He had made that promise too soon, it seemed: less than a week later, one of the elders remarked that it was time for Lan Xichen to take up some of the duties of running a sect.
âWhat?â Lan Qiren asked, blinking. âYouâre joking. Heâs nine.â
âHeâs the future sect leader,â the elder said, and his gaze was cold. âNever forget, Teacher Lan, that although you fill the role now, you are only a custodian in his name.â
âThatâs not the point I was making,â Lan Qiren said, frustrated; he had never been very good with words or with people. âOf course he will inherit the position, given time. But he is not even old enough for his own sword, and years away from night-hunting â why would you burden him with sect business? Heâs far too young.â
âHe is at exactly the right age to begin. How else can we ensure that he will not fall into the failings of his father or the crimes of his mother?â
âHe is a child,â Lan Qiren stressed, wondering what he was missing. âWe can only teach him to the best of our abilities, and hope that he does well with it; thereâs nothing else that can be done.â
The elder shook his head. âWe cannot take the risk of another generation of disaster. He must be trained, and trained now, trained well. If we do not take action, it may be too late, and he will be ruined.â
As you were, he didnât say, but Lan Qiren felt keenly the burn of humiliation. He had never lived up to their expectations the way his brother had, and then his brother had gone and failed them all, too.
âWhat exactly are you thinking?â he asked, trying to dismiss the feeling of foreboding in his belly. An introduction to the burdens Lan Xichen would eventually face would not be so far amiss â a shichen a week of helping to transcribe simple letters, perhaps, or running errands, the sort of thing a boy could do and not be bored; that wouldnât be too bad.
That wasnât what they had in mind at all.
They wanted Lan Xichen to start tackling political problems at once, forcing him to make real decisions, deal with paperwork, and then also three times the usual lessons in sword and music, all the skills he would need to have. And all this, of course, on top of his regular lessons â
âWe can assist, of course,â one of the elders said to the others, ignoring Lan Qirenâs aghast expression entirely. âBut the sooner he grows accustomed to the work, the sooner he can step up ââ
âYouâll crush him!â Lan Qiren exclaimed, interrupting, and he never interrupted the elders. âHeâs a child, and a child who just lost his mother at that â how can you even suggest this? He would have no time to study in depth rather than shallowly, no time to think, to become his own person ââ
âWe will polish him into a perfect jade,â an elder said. âHim, and the younger one, too. What more do they need than to be of service to the sect?â
It wasnât that Lan Qiren disagreed that service to their sect was the highest good, or that scholarly and martial pursuits were of the highest caliber, far more important than aimless play. He was a teacher, a strict one, and the sect rules accorded with his understanding: Learning comes first. But at the same time, there was learning and then there was learning â he was a teacher who cared for his studentsâ well-being, too. He knew that the approach proposed would not polish Lan Xichen into a jade but mold him instead, brutally pruning away any part of him that did not accord with the eldersâ wishes.
It was just what theyâd done to Lan Qiren the moment he became acting sect leader, after all.
Theyâd loaded him up with responsibilities until heâd nearly worked himself sick, refused to grant him the slightest freedom to travel even in a small and supervised manner, and theyâd tried to force him to recant even those few things he did enjoy â composing music, teaching children. If he hadnât already been as old as he was when it started, he wouldnât have had the strength of will or determination to preserve even those few little things of his ownâŠ
âHe should move into the hanshi soon,â another elder agreed. âIf we expect him to take on the responsibilities of an adult, he should be treated as one.â
âAgreed. The sooner he disengages from messing around with his peers, the better. They will only distract him from what he needs to do.â
âI do not agree with this,â Lan Qiren said. âI am his guardian and his teacher. I do not agree.â
âIâm disappointed in you, Qiren,â one of the elders said, and Lan Qiren felt an automatic wash of shame, instinctive and ingrained after all these years. âYou took the sect leader position with the knowledge that it would not truly be yours, and now you wish to preserve your personal power longer?â
I never wanted the position, which offers only power in exchange for its brutal demands! I still donât want it! But to put it onto a child, any child, much less my own nephew who I love â how could I agree to that?
âYou must not be selfish, as your brother was,â another elder scolded him, and normally Lan Qiren would be the first to agree. Being like his brother was his worst fear, and one he would do anything to avoid â but at the moment, the reminder felt wrong, as if they were using it as a tool to manipulate him rather than expressing what they really thought. âDo not cling to power and authority, after all. You cannot and must not steal what belongs to your nephews, Qiren. Never forget your place.â
Lan Qiren stared at him mutely. His place?
He had never been selfish. He had sacrificed everything â he had been filial and loyal, obedient to his elders, and they had taken everything from him, just as they planned to do to the two children that had been entrusted to his care. The only difference was that Lan Qiren had been allowed to live freely for a little while, and even that freedom was only because the elders had utterly ignored him in favor of his more talented brother, who had been protected by the love of his powerful father; for his nephews, who were all but orphaned and left only in his inferior care, there was no such defense.
This time, it was clear that the elders meant to rectify the situation â this time, they wouldnât even leave Lan Wangji his childhood, let alone Lan Xichen.
They would hollow them out and leave them as little more than puppets, blindly obeying the rules without having the time to contemplate their meaning. They would squeeze out every moment of every day, turning each endless shichen into a joyless burden, transforming the rules into little more than a yoke to chain them â his nephews wouldnât be Lan, who chose willingly to obey because they loved the rules and loved their sect and wanted to give everything for it. They would be little better than slaves.
Perhaps, Lan Qiren thought suddenly, it was not his selfishness that the elders were constantly seeking to correct. Perhaps it was their own.
He tried, first and foremost, to argue with them, but they did not listen to him. They had never listened to him, not from the first moment he had yielded to their wishes over his own desires and allowed himself to be trapped in the Cloud Recesses as the new sect leader. No â it was even older than that, from even before then, from as far back as when he had been small and helpless and crying out for help in his own way, not even knowing what was happening to him and whyâŠ
They had always turned their faces away.
Lan Qiren had tried his best to please them, and had failed. Heâd thought the blame lay with him, but now he wasnât so sure â now he thought that it didnât matter what he did, that he never would.
Lan Qirenâs nephews were the ones who were small and helpless now, and unlike the elders that should have watched over him, he would not turn away.
The plan he hatched was ruthless in the extreme, but there was nothing else he could think of in his desperation. The Lan sect had always been very secretive, in its own way, keeping outsiders from knowing their personal business; although everyone within the sect knew that it was the elders who held all the real power, even if they disdained the work of it and left much of that for Lan Qiren to accomplish, from the outside it appeared as though Lan Qiren were sect leader, invested with all the powers of one.
To be a sect leader, in their day and age, was to be a tyrant.
No need to look at Wen Ruohan, the chief example of this trend, a man who made his sect kneel and touch their heads to the floor upon hearing that he was coming. It was enough to look instead at the Jiang sect, whose sect leader Jiang Fengmian whiled away his days waiting for his old lover to write, ignoring his wife despite her maternal familyâs power and influence within his territory. Look at the Jin sect, where Jin Guangshan bedded every prostitute and poor young lady within range, surrounded by a cloud of rumors regarding whether heâd bothered to get all of them to consent â rumors there might be, but no one dared to make any trouble for him over it without actual proof. Look at Lao Nie, whose sect, elders and all, sighed and shook their heads over his excessive fondness for dangerous people, but could take no action to stop him.
Look at Lan Qirenâs father, who had spoiled one child into madness and neglected the other into near despair, and had trained his whole sect to accept it as a given. Lan Qiren was working to repair that damage, to lead by example, but it was a hard upward struggle â rot might start at the head, and healing, too, but the healing was harder than the rotting.
A sect leader, in short, was a tyrant.
And as far as the world was concerned, Lan Qiren was the sect leader.
Lan Qiren bided his time until the next discussion conference. It hurt him to wait, seeing poor Lan Xichen get stretched thin under his new duties and constantly reminded to keep a serene smile on his face throughout, seeing poor Lan Wangji so stressed at his brotherâs misery and his own amplified lessons that he'd started biting people again, but he knew it was necessary. A discussion conference meant outsiders, and outsiders meant not losing face; it was the one time that Lan Qiren was actually treated as a sect leader by all around him, the one time no one would gainsay anything he said, even if they would later tear strips off of him in private.
It was his only chance.
"I have an announcement," he said mildly, presiding over the large gathering that marked the conclusion of the discussion conference. His Lan sect was the host of this conference, and he was accordingly seated at the head of the room, equal with the other Great Sects but given additional deference in view of the location - it was easy for his voice to carry, despite his quiet tone, and all the sects turned towards him to listen. They were probably expecting something anodyne, some additional prize or information about the weather to keep in mind as they departed. "I have decided that my Lan sect's ties to the rest of the cultivation world have grown stale, seeing each other as we do only at these times and the common people only on night hunts. As a result, in my authority as Sect Leader Lan, I intend to make a journey throughout the various sects, taking along my nephews to introduce them to your families. In my absence, the Cloud Recesses will be managed by my cousin, Lan Yueheng -"
Talk exploded in the whole audience, furious and loud, all but his own Lan sect which was calm and stone-faced as always, though of course that was only their pride and concern for face overwhelming their shock. Poor Lan Yueheng was the exception, of course, his jaw dropping open like a weight dropped from a great height until his neighbors noticed and elbowed him in the side to make him stop - Lan Qiren mentally apologized for not having warned his cousin up front. He hadn't dared to risk it.Â
" - and accordingly I will be leaving alongside the rest of you at the conclusion of this conference," he concluded, for once relieved that his voice never varied far from a monotone; he sounded cool and calm and in control, and like he hadn't noticed the way his sect elders were trying to strangle him with their gaze even as the maintained decorum. "Our first destination is the Nie sect's Unclean Realm, with Lao Nie as our host."
Lan Qiren hadn't warned Lao Nie, either, but he knew him well, and to his relief hadn't misjudged him - the other man didn't spare so much as a moment to blink in surprise, instead grinning broadly at the other sect leaders.
"You bet you are," he laughed, his voice booming and loud. "And don't think I'll let you leave so quickly, Qiren - not until your nephews are best friends with my sons, and not until you've had a chance to work your magic on my sect's younger generation and turn them from little beasts into proper gentlemen!"
Lan Qiren barely resisted rolling his eyes - he still didn't know who it was that had come up with the nonsense about him being able to turn the most hopeless waste into a gentleman, but it was rank exaggeration. But to his surprise, the first person to respond was the head of one of the more distant small sects, Baling Ouyang, a young man with an excitable temperament; he leapt up to his feet and exclaimed, "Will he really? Sect Leader Lan, I insist you visit my Ouyang sect next, if you haven't made firm plans - I scarcely recognized my little hellion nephews after a season in your care, all grown up, careful in thought and action, compassionate and upright...and no more pranks!"
Another exaggeration. The Ouyang twins had been troublesome only at the start, until Lan Qiren realized that what they longed for most was recognition as separate beings rather than a collective whole; as soon as he'd treated them with respect, and showed them how to act in return, they'd taken to his lessons like a desert to water.Â
"Sect Leader Lan's skill in teaching is very well known," Sect Leader Yao said, always first to speak after his friend from the Ouyang sect. "You'll really come to our sects to do it, rather than our children to the Cloud Recesses? And you won't charge, of course...?"
"Naturally no," Lan Qiren said, a little puzzled by their enthusiasm. Was it so expensive to send children to the Cloud Recesses? Heâd never charged for his lessons, although he supposed there was the cost of travel and maintenance to the standard preferred by students, and of course guest gifts were customary, although he never made any demands. "I would be your guest, and enjoying your hospitality â room and board would be more than sufficientâŠ"
"In that case, you should come to Pingyang next -"
"No, Yueyang!" someone else called, and before Lan Qiren knew exactly what was happening, the sect leaders were arguing over who he should visit first. The most enthusiastic were the ones whose children he had taught already, but the others were quick to catch up, loathe to miss out on what they perceived to be a good deal - even Wen Ruohan, never one to lose out to others when it came to something perceived of as desirable, extended an offer with a smug, snake-like smile.Â
Lan Qiren provisionally accepted all the offers with a growing sense of relief: with such public acceptance, the Lan sect would lose more face by refusing to let him go than in allowing his unorthodox action. It was just as he has hoped, and more successful than he'd dared to dream; the other sects had fixated on his teaching skills and in doing so had ignored the strangeness of a sect leader taking his heirs and all but running away from home.Â
That relief carried him through to the end of the meeting, when everyone divided up to pack up their things, and Lan Qiren returned to the inner parts of his sect to do the same.
"What are you thinking?" one of the elders demanded the second they were alone. "Have you gone mad?"
"Did you see the reception of my idea?" Lan Qiren replied, hiding the giddiness of relief under a facade of calm. "The sect will benefit greatly from the connections we will make."
"That's no answer!"
Lan Qiren was a filial child; even if they were wrong, he would not tell the elders so to their faces. Instead he only bowed deeply and said, "What's done is done. I need to get ready, and quickly; it would be embarrassing if we weren't prepared."
Of course, he'd already packed everything he thought he'd need, determined to take Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji with him no matter what - it was only luck that his plan had worked as well as it had, allowing him to pretend to some move of subtle strategic genius rather than a retreat out of desperation. Still, he needed to go through the motions.
"Fine," another elder spat out, although their demeanor made it clear that it wasn't fine at all. "But did you have to announce that the provisional leader was Lan Yueheng? He's completely unfit!"
By which they meant that he wouldn't listen to them - that he was brash and lacked tact, said what he thought and cared for nothing but his experiments, his wife, and his children. Out of all of Lan Qirenâs cousins, he was the most thick-faced, shameless to the extreme, essentially immune to criticism or guilt.Â
That was, of course, exactly why Lan Qiren had picked him.
"He's good at math and accounting, and at arranging provisioning," Lan Qiren said, picking the more acceptable reason. "That's the key responsibility left over, isn't it? Everything else, I can do through correspondence."
The reassurance that Lan Qiren would still be doing his duty to the sect - would still be accountable to them - helped settle some ruffled feathers. It wouldn't be pleasant to try to do the work of sect leader from abroad, Lan Qiren knew; it would mean a lot of sleepless nights slaving away by candlelight, with no support from any aides, bearing all the weight himself. No doubt the elders knew it too, and figured that he'd soon enough lose interest in what he heard them calling, in hushed voices where they thought he could not hear, his "little show of rebellion".
Lan Qiren didn't care. The sooner they left, the better the chances that the elders would continue to be deceived into thinking that Lan Qiren was doing all this for his own sake - some last stab at achieving his long forgotten dreams, doomed to inevitable disappointment - instead of what it really was, which was freedom for his nephews. They couldn't be assigned work or classes from a distance; their education would be wholly in Lan Qirenâs hands.
He'd take a thousand sleepless nights of overwork if it meant they got to be children a little longer.
"Are we really going to the Unclean Realm?" Lan Wangji lisped, looking even more rosy-cheeked and excited than usual. "Will â will Nie-gongzi will be there?"
"Yes, Mingjue-xiong will be there," Lan Xichen said, and grinned at Lan Qiren over his brotherâs head. He looked more carefree than he had in...possibly years, and Lan Qiren briefly regretted how long it had taken him to do this. "Since you like him so much."
Lan Wangji turned bright red at once.
"Both of the Nie boys will be there," Lan Qiren said. "The younger one is closer to your age, Wangji. You can get to know him as well."
Lan Qiren went next to the library pavilion, looking for books on their sect rules - he might not trust his sect elders, but he loved his sect, loved their rules and traditions, and he wanted his nephews to love it, too. He wanted them to see the Cloud Recesses as a refuge, as a haven - not a burden.
He would give his nephews the freedom he'd longed for, and when they were older...when they were older, more resilient, more sure of who they were, he would bring them back and he would ensure that they obtained their rightful inheritance. In full, not in part - Lan Xichen would be a real sect leader, not a puppet for the elders, taught only to be pleasant and yielding and to perform well with his cultivation, swordsmanship and music only for the purpose of impressing outsiders. Lan Wangji would be his brotherâs right hand, would love and respect him and be loved and respected in turn.
Maybe, Lan Qiren thought to himself, amused, they would even find some compatible child on their way and one day return to bring them home as a dao companion.
He couldn't wait to find out.
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the foxes on a party, Neil got drunk A LOT and started dancing, others were surprised but most(I donât know what Andrew and Kevin would dođ) of them joined him
I tried writing this a million times, but brain broke and I hated it each time akjfajsfh so I hope you donât mind that Iâm making this an hc
Even after the foxes find out everything about Neil, heâs still pretty hesitant to drink. Old habits die hard and he doesnât really see the point in it. Heâll have a shot or two to make them happy (because we all know Neil is a big softie when it comes to the foxes) but thatâs about it
One night, he decides to let loose a little. Heâs only ever really been âdrunkâ when he was using it as an anesthetic on the run, but he wants to see what itâs like in a safe setting with his friend and Andrew at his back. Though, at least for the beginning of the night, he stays away from Andrew. He doesnât know how the drinks will affect him and he doesnât want to touch Andrew without his permission, even if it would be an accident
Andrew, of course, knows what Neil is doing and rolls his eyes, making his way to his boyfriend. He holds out a hand and Neil whispers out a tentative âare you sure?â Andrew nods and doesnât pull away, so they hold hands for the rest of the night.
After that night, he drinks more leniently with his friends. Though he still doesnât see any point in it, he doesnât see any harm in it either. It makes him feel more dizzy than drunk anyway, so he puts trust in himself that he can control his actions.
The one thing Neil never did was dance. Countless times, the foxes have tried to pull him to the dance floor but he would refuse every single time. He didnât see how moving around in a crowd of wriggling bodies could be any fun. Besides, that meant heâd have to leave Andrew behind, and that wasnât something he wanted to do.
However, there was a first time for everything. Neil didnât exactly know what made him get up and join Renee and Allison on the dance floor. Maybe it was the fact that he felt restless. Maybe it was the fact that they were in the safety of the Foxes and Vixens, and not the stranger filled Edenâs. Maybe it was simply the fact that Renee and Allison looked like they were having fun. Whatever it was, Neil got up and walked over to them.
Allison looked shocked, but Renee just smiled. âI donât really know what Iâm doing,â Neil said. The shock on Allisonâs face was replaced with amusement and exasperation. She laughed and held out her hands. âIâll teach ya, kid.â
And so Neil danced. First with Allison pulling his arms here and there, and then on his own, Renee and Allison jumping around him. Eventually, they were joined by Dan, who gave Neil a bright smile, and Matt, who ruffled up Neilâs hair.
Nicky was the last to join, as he was in the bathroom when it happened. âNeilâs dancing with us and you guys didnât immediately come get me? Some friends you are,â he said with no malice or upset in his voice. He jumped into the mix, dancing like heâs been doing it for hours already.
And Neil had fun.
He didnât know what he expected to get out of it, but he felt a small thrum through his chest as he moved around. He knew he probably looked ridiculous, but he didnât care. He never thought heâd have a life like this, but there he was, surrounded by his friends, his family. The only thing that could make that moment better wasâŠ
He felt a tap on his shoulder. When he turned around, he saw the familiar mussed up blonde hair. He didnât bother hiding the full force of his smile. Neil looked behind the shorter man to the table where Kevin sat alone. He didnât exactly know where Aaron was, but that didnât matter. Not when Andrew was right in front of him.
Andrew held out his hands. âAre you sure this is okay?â Neil asked. âThereâs a lot of people and not a lot of space.â âI wouldnât be doing this if I didnât want to.â
But Neil dragged them to a more secluded area anyway. They could still hear the music, still see their friends, but there was no risk of Andrew accidentally getting touched. Andrew rolled his eyes and whispered â156%â. Neil laughed quietly and moved Andrewâs arms around a bit, the way Allison did to him earlier.
âIâve never seen you dance before,â Neil said.
Andrew shrugged. âIâve never seen the point in it.â
âWhat changed your mind?â
Andrew was quiet for a moment before answering, âYou.â
Neil looked at him like heâd hung the moon.
Andrew rolled his eyes again, but didnât say anything. He drew Neil in closer, leaving him plenty of room to get away if he wanted to. Neil didnât, obviously. He let Andrew pull him in until their foreheads were touching. Normally, they werenât big fans of pda, but they were in a secluded enough space that no one paid them any mind or even noticed that they were there.
Despite the fast pace of the song, they swayed around slowly for a moment, Neilâs arms around Andrewâs shoulders, Andrewâs hands on Neilâs waist. It was nice. Neil could probably fall asleep if he wanted to.
But he didnât. He wanted to ingrain that moment into his brain. He was jealous of Andrewâs eidetic memory, wishing he could see this memory frame by frame on his mind whenever he wanted to, Then, he thought that he could ask Andrew to describe it to him. The thought made him smile.
âHey, Andrew?â
Andrew hummed in acknowledgement. Neil pulled back so he could look into those eyes that he liked so much. Neil grinned, ever so slightly.
Maybe it was the atmosphere that made Neil say what he said next. Maybe it was the fact that Dan and Matt were cooing at each other in a corner. Maybe it was Allison and Renee standing in the middle of the dance floor in a fierce embrace. Maybe it was just the fact that Neil couldnât keep the words in any longer. It had been almost four years after all.
âI love you.â
Andrew pulled away from Neil completely. âYouâre drunk.â
âIâm not. Iâve only had soda tonight.â
Andrew blinked at him.
âYou didnât notice?â
Andrew didnât answer. He looked to the Foxes, then back to Neil. Finally he held out his hand. Once Neil took it, Andrew pulled them out of the basement study room and out into the cool night. He turned on Neil as soon as they were away from prying ears.
âWhat are you doing?â
Neil scrunched his eyebrows up in confusion. âFollowing you?â
âNo. Why did you say⊠what you said?â
Neil was more confused than ever. âBecause I love you?â
âAnd you meant it?â Andrew asked quietly.
Neil softened. âYeah, Drew. Of course, I meant it. I wouldnât have said it if I didnât.â
Andrew nodded, but kept quiet.
âAnd you donât have to say it back,â Neil continued, wanting to make his intentions clear. âYou probably already know that, but I just wanted to clarify that I didnât tell you because I expected anything back from you. Youâve always been more of a âactions speak louder than wordsâ type of guy.â
Andrew nodded again. He looked like he was contemplating something, tilting his head the slightest bit. âYes or no?â
âItâs always a yes with you.â
Andrew bunched a hand up in the front of Neilâs hoodie and pulled him closer, placing a soft kiss to his lips. It didnât last long. Once they broke apart, Andrew attached himself to Neil, arms wrapping around Neilâs midsection.
Neil kept his arms up, not entirely sure what to do. Theyâd never hugged like this before. Neil didnât know what was allowed.
âYou can touch my back,â Andrew said, words muffled by the fabric of Neilâs hoodie. Neil obliged. He hugged Andrew back, burying his face in Andrewâs hair. Heâd been using Neilâs shampoo recently. Neil smothered his grin, but he couldnât smother the giddiness from bubbling up inside him.
And then, as quiet as a hummingbird sipping from a flower, Andrew spoke.
âI love you too.â
#andreil#andreil fic#neil x andrew#andrew x neil#andrew minyard#neil josten#aftg fanfic#aftg#aftg headcanon#andreil headcanon
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Can you please to the EXU crew with a reader whoâs very openly affectionate and loves PDA and cuddles and everything? Have a nice day, bye.
Hope this turned out the way you wanted. Have a nice day! đ
(Dorian)
From the moment Dorian met you it was clear you were a very physical individual. The dead give-away being you offering him a hug upon first meeting you. Heâll have to admit he was a bit taken aback by this as usually in his circles meeting someone goes with the shake of a hand, a simple nod of the head or even a bow/curtsy. He happily embraced you in the literal and figurative sense.
The concept of holding hands, cuddling, a kiss on the cheek and such had always been something Dorian considered romantically affectionate but you opened a whole new world for him showing him these gestures can but should not be limited to romantic partners. As long as all parties involved are comfortable, why should the lack of romantic interests prevent you from engaging in these comforts? At the end of the day, it doesnât matter if youâre romantically interested or not. Even in a relationship it doesnât change anything except that your affections may develop into something that does go a bit beyond what âjust friendsâ would engage in even by your standards.
Dorian is inclined to agree with you and even so early on, barely knowing you at all he found himself asking for hugs or just cuddle up on the couch after a long day, the gesture bringing a comfort he hadnât experienced in a long time. When clear Dorian was comfortable with this new dynamic youâd ask him the same. Private or public makes no difference.
At first the remarks of âthe couple being at it againâ were met with a âshut upâ from him. Youâd learned to ignore these or brush them off. Not like you care but Dorian didnât let it go that easily. Granted, he didnât care either about what other people said or thought about your endless displays of affection, he has a need to have the last word. âIf youâre jealous you could have just said so,â is a classic Dorian comeback in these scenarios.
(Orym)
You are everything Orym fears. Donât get him wrong, youâre absolutely wonderful and he loves you but as someone who emotionally distances himself from his private matters in public circles, you go against everything ingrained in his person. Itâs a hard habit to break away from so especially early on heâs a bit hesitant to engage in any public displays of affection preferring to keep his distance until youâre in a more private space.
This feeling really conflicts because he doesnât want to deny you physical affection, heâd happily have engaged in were you not surrounded by other people. It takes some time but when heâs sure no one will notice Orym will lace your fingers together or place himself just a little closer to you. Itâs a start that little by little sends him into the next step.
First time he cuddled up with you when the others were around he was bit awkward about it. Everything in him told him he shouldnât but he fought the urge to retreat. First sitting next to you, then wrap an arm around you, placing his head against your shoulder. You of course were happy Orym took the first steps. You didnât want to push him and allowed him to do things at his own pace to assure his comfort. He may have kept his eyes out awaiting whatever response the others would throw at him but they were silenced by your look of warning.
Heâs still hesitant at times but will give you plenty of hugs and kisses and hold your hand in public. Itâll be a long road but heâll get there. He knows he enjoys these displays of affection and so do you. Heâs grateful for your patience and willingness to take things slow for his sake so he can see what he is and isnât (yet) comfortable with. Without your gentle approach he doesnât know if heâd ever have been able to not get awkward about engaging in displays of affection and without freezing up because of them.
(Fearne)
This faun is no stranger to displays of affection. She had a loving family, and if her interactions with Little Mister are anything to go by, they are a testament that Fearne at ease is a physically affectionate Fearne. At that point she never shies away from physical contact of any kind. She hadnât in the past that is. Being sent to the Material Plane changed that a little bit. Fearne has a keen eye and caught on to the fact that people here are less like her in many many ways.
Thatâs what keeps Fearne a bit hesitant. Learning that you are just like her but the social constraints of others keep you more to yourself builds an instant connection. Displays of affection in more closed circles became second nature, and in public, being a six feet faun with insanely long green hair and flowers all over her person accompanied by a monkey already draws plenty of attention so how much worse could it be engaging in public displays of affection?
You draw many eyes as to be expected but less so because youâre holding hands or offering the faun a little kiss and more because of the odd pairing of the two of you next to each other. Especially in circles more knowledgeable of the Feywild they entertain the thought the faun must have you under some sort of spell. Youâre definitely not under any spell.
Though, because you do love a bit of mischief sometimes you play along, you clinging to Fearne like some lovesick puppy, Mister playing his part just the same (he enjoys it a little too much) and your friends convincing people this is the most normal thing in the world and youâre always like this. Itâs always funny to find out youâre both equally enamoured and laughing your asses off at giving people a bit of a fright.
(Dariax)
You accidentally kissed Dariaxâs cheek as a thank you for helping you. You didnât mean to but the dwarf wasnât opposed either. Didnât prevent a deep scarlet blush from spreading across his cheeks the moment your lips made contact. Cue an awkward at loss of words Dariax. This definitely doesnât mean he doesnât like the physical contact. If anything, he really enjoys it. He just got caught off guard and if anyone mentions his response to this particular incident heâll argue he took it all cool and suave.
The realisation that you do not care about the circles youâre in when it comes to displaying affection is a godsend. Dariax is very much the same but he has a reputation to keep so he canât just go over to someone and ask for cuddles. What might they think of the expert thief?! So the fact youâre totally cool with âinitiatingâ any kind of pda makes him happy because he still gets to play it off cool when people ask.
Out in public heâll gladly hold onto you, provide kisses, lean into your side and more and youâre always more than happy to return the favour. Itâs been a while since Dariax had anyone he could engage in this type of contact with so be prepared for him not letting you go unless you ask him. Heâll totally miss any social cues, too caught up in your comfort.
Cuddled up together in the back of the cart, sharing a seat, holding hands, kisses you name it and people will have seen it from the two of you. The others have gotten used to this dynamic between the two of you and while they donât let the first incident go, the little comments made are all in jest and good spirit where they even occur between you and Dariax yourselves.
(Opal)
This girl⊠She is so touch starved. Ever since the falling out and her departure from her home town sheâs been missing physical contact and what brief and few experiences she did get, were always fleeting. But then you came around and she latched onto you right away. All the hugs all the time, arm draped over your shoulders or waist whenever youâre standing or sitting in one place.
Opal started it but it soon became clear you were the same and returned the favour. She couldnât be happier because while sheâd be totally okay having this thing be one-sided and you just accepting this as her Opal-way she much prefers it when someoneâs willing to put in the work. Sheâs a very physical person, so are you. Match made in heaven. Youâre perfect together. Romance, platonic, who cares?!
Now donât let her go off the rails too much because she can also be very demanding. Sometimes it takes a level head to keep things in check but youâre not one to resist a good cuddle even if thatâs somewhere on a park bench in the middle of a city with hundreds of eyes watching you. You realise there is a time and a place and once upon a time so did Opal. She tends to get a bit caught up in the fact she finally has someone like that at her side again so youâll have to remind her itâs not alway the right moment.
As much as you and Opal are physically affectionate people, Opal is also physically intimidating so if anyone dares to say anything rude about your pda she will not hesitate to cut a bitch. Sheâs a lover of attention so as long as the comments are light hearted sheâll smile and get just a little more sappy in her affection just for that reason.
#critical role x reader#critrole x reader#exu x reader#exandria unlimited x reader#dorian x reader#dorian storm x reader#orym x reader#fearne x reader#fearne calloway x reader#dariax x reader#dariax zaveon x reader#opal x reader#critical role#exu#exandria unlimited
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Part 4
I still lived.Â
I was, I thought, greatly in the minority. The woman Systlin had judged warrior after warrior, and warrior after warrior had met his end at a quiva's blade.Â
A great many of the sentences were carried out by the hands of the freed slave girls of the warriors. The number of these astounded me, as did the ferocity with which many of the girls fell upon their masters.Â
It is a Gorean saying that a woman cannot be free until she has been a slave. It is said that a woman wishes to be conquered, that she cannot respect any man save for the man who can reduce her to nothing.Â
The girls fell upon their masters with a fury I have rarely seen, and blood flowed until the grass was slick and red with it.Â
A few girls did not take up the quiva. These men, once sentence of death was passed, the she-sleen on the Ubar's robe killed herself. Her face was untroubled by this, unworried, and there was even a hint of vicious pleasure in those cold eyes as she swung the sword to remove their heads.
Those warriors who had taken Free Companions and who had children, the she-sleen ordered all material goods be split equally between the  Free Companions, the children, and the freed slave girls. There were many sour faces among the Tuchuk women at that, but to my shock many more who accepted it without question.Â
When night neared, scarce three dozen warriors of the Tuchuk still lived, myself included. It was us and only us who had not admitted to owning slaves, and who had no slaves to call out our names.Â
A very few men..two or three, in all...had been spared by the request of their slave girls. These men were whipped, and the she-sleen commanded ash be rubbed into the whip wounds.Â
"I would have them remember." She had said, eyes cold and face passionless, even as the warriors held back cries of pain. "I want them to remember their crimes, and to remember me."Â
Those of us who had survived the slaughter had been unchained and taken to wagons, and allowed to eat and rest.Â
"So." Kamchak had survived the culling, and his face was set and cold. "We are free, then?"
"You are not slaves." Systlin had smiled a little, a cold smile that did not reach her eyes. "But if you seek to flee, or to move against me...well."Â
Behind her, I could see women chaining hunting sleen outside the wagons. Each was given clothing to smell; I noticed with a start a discarded tunic of my own among the items. The sleen began to pull and hiss, eyes bright.Â
"Say, rather, that you are prisoners for the time." Systlin continued. "I've much to do, and I've no time to be worrying about one of you burying a knife in my back in my sleep." Another humorless smile. "I'm not fool enough to think that all...or any...of you are paragons of virtue. I'll get the truth in time."
Kamchak spat. "You," he informed her, "Are the most disagreeable and wrenched wench I've ever had the misfortune to meet. There will come a day, where you meet a man to bring you to heel." A smile. "I wish to be there to see it."
I felt my heart sink; they were unwise words, but then Kamchak was Tuchuk.Â
To my surprise, the woman Systlin threw back her head and laughed, as if at a wonderful joke.Â
"Ahhh!" She wiped tears from her eyes at last, as I stared, stunned. "When I find my way home, I will tell Foicatch that." Another laugh. "A woman isn't brought to heel. We can choose to be a partner, or to bide our time and pretend until the time is right, but brought to heel? HA! You saw that, I think, today." Another terrible grin. "I saw your faces, when the women turned on your warriors. You did not expect that, did you?"
"Foicatch?" Kamchak, ever keen, inquired.Â
"My husband." Systlin said this lightly, easily. "Father of my daughter."
"Good god, you are married?" The words were out of me before I could think better of them. I tried to imagine what bedding such a woman would be like, and thought to myself that it would be much like the risk taken by the male of the praying mantis of Earth; what sort of man would marry such a creature?
"Yes. Goodnight." She shut the wagon behind her.Â
There was a moment of silence. Then, Kamchak spoke.Â
"It is probably a bad time, Tarl Cabot," he said. "To mention that Kutaituchuk was not the Ubar of the Tuchuks."Â
"What?"
 It was surprising, Systlin thought, how many of the Tuchuk women had been willing...eager, even...to take up weapons and stand guard at her wagon.Â
Not to her. No. On Ellinon, the children of the Lady would have found the ideas of the men of this 'Gor' incomprehensible, unlawful, hearsay, and downright suicidal. But to many of the women of Gor themselves, Systlin thought, the sheer thrill that came when picking up a blade or spear was new.Â
She tried to picture what would have happened had Stellead found herself in this shithole of a world. Death, absolutely; her aunt had little talent in any form of Power, but she had won her place as Arms Master of Stellas Keep and as a Commander of the Bloodguard through sweat and skill.Â
Even now, Systlin could only best her aunt blade to blade perhaps two matches out of three.Â
If anyone...man, woman, even the gods themselves...had tried to bring Stellead to heel, she'd spit in their eye and disembowel them.Â
Systlin smiled to herself. It was a stubbornness and force of will that she herself shared, and that her aunt, mother, and father had always fostered.Â
The women did not know quite how to hold a spear, of course. Systlin had tried to gently insist that she didn't need an armed guard, more because she knew full well that they'd not yet be up to a fight than because she believed that. But they had insisted, and in the end she had simply advised them to stick to knives for the time being.Â
The rugs and cushions and furs in the wagon were quite comfortable, and she was quite tired, but sleep was elusive.Â
All of this...the rugs and furs, the sound of animals outside, the sound of low voices from the camp, the smell of dried dung fires...it was too similar to her time with the Rabi, with Sura, before Sura had become Queen of the Sands, when she'd simply been the leader of her clan.Â
Sura's laugh, bright as a bell, and the taste of pomegranate wine. The light of the brazier catching glints of copper and red off of Sura's black hair, which gleamed almost blue in sunlight.Â
The rugs beside her were cold, and she suddenly felt very alone.Â
Her throne would be empty. She'd held the North together through sheer grit, guile, charisma, and the edge of a sword, and beaten it back into working shape after the War of the Crown had nearly destroyed it.Â
Her daughter was only a girl. Foicatch, dear Foicatch, would do his best, she knew, but he was at heart a soldier, not a monarch.Â
Her sister would step in, at least. 'Sina was capable. But she didn't have the fear and respect of the lords of the realm and the love of the common folk the way Systlin did.Â
"Why am I here?" She whispered this in the dark, at the roof of the wagon.Â
No one answered.Â
"I have my own place. People who will miss me." She scowled at the dark, and anger rose hot and furious. "Responsibilities! I've not got time for...this!" She waved a hand randomly, indicating everything about this strange place.Â
No one answered. But Systlin had met gods in her time, and she knew that if they cared to, they could hear.Â
"Send me back!" She hissed this at the darkness, not sure who she was angry with. "Have I not done enough? Send me home! I do not want this!"
Nothing.Â
Exhaustion, at last, won out, and she slept.Â
She was, in her dreams, not surprised at her visitor.Â
The Lady's face could never be seen. The most that could be gathered was an impression of poise, of stately calm. It was impossible even to place what color Her hair was, or her skin, though the hair floated around her like a cloud and she was nude.Â
"You?" In her dream Systlin could still feel her anger, though it was a hollow ghost of what she'd felt while awake.Â
Me. It wasn't a spoken word; it was felt.Â
"I should have known at once." Systlin growled. "Have I not done enough? Can I have no peace?"
A laugh, chiming and musical, but which shook the very bones. You were never made for peace.Â
And that was true. Systlin knew it, felt the truth of it in her soul. It was impossible to deny it, not before the Lady.Â
She felt an answering whisper in her soul, as the slumbering power of what had once been the Lord of Night and Void, the God of Endings, the Fallen One, God of Conflict, Lord of Justice and retribution, stirred within her.Â
Sister. The word was pointed, and almost mocking. Who denies still that you are.Â
"I saved my world. It needs me; you know that damned well. I don't want to be a god."
Want. This word was definitely mocking. There is no want, sister. There is 'must'. My brother failed his duty, and corrupted it. You hold it now. In time, you will realize. Goddess of War, Goddess of Justice, Goddess of Protection, Goddess of Night, Goddess of Death, Goddess of Endings and rebirth. I do your duties for now, sister...but not forever.Â
Systlin clenched her fists, and pointedly ignored this. "My people need me, damn you."
They are safe.Â
Systlin closed her eyes. "You'll not send me back until I finish here." It wasn't a question.Â
You could send yourself back whenever you wished, if you accepted your new place.
Systlin glared.
Another smile. So stubborn. No, I will not. Good luck, sister.
She woke.Â
Within her, the power of the god she'd killed stirred again, and was once more silent.Â
It was morning. She could see the sunlight under the door, and could hear the cheerful bustle of camp outside.Â
"Gods damn it all to the pits." She muttered.
 The hardest thing about training the women of the Tuchuk in combat, Systlin soon found, was ingrained survival habits.Â
Her aunt, in the long-ago days when Systlin had been a lanky youth still growing into her arms and legs and new to a training sword, had always said that the hardest thing about training older students was fixing ingrained and detrimental habits.Â
Stellead had been referring to habits picked up from lesser arms masters...letting your shield drop, footwork that was less than flawless. Systlin wondered how her aunt would have dealt with this, as she interrupted a woman to correct her form and the former slave cringed and dropped at her feet, begging forgiveness.Â
"I am sorry!" The woman was almost tearful. Systlin had been angry since she came to this cursed place, and she felt that knot of red rage flare. "I am sorry, I forgot..."
"It's all right." Systlin squatted, propping her elbows on her thighs. "Hush. It's all right. Here now." She offered her hand, and the girl hesitantly took it. Systlin stood, drawing the girl back to her feet, and then bent, picked up the dropped wooden sword, and offered it back hilt first. The girl took it.Â
"Do you know," Systlin said, keeping her voice light and conversational, "how long it took me to become good with a sword?"
The woman blinked. "I...no, Ubara."Â
"I started training at thirteen." Systlin smiled fondly in memory. "I first killed a wraithen at nineteen. I first killed men in battle at twenty five. that was two and a half decades and three wars ago." She tossed her own wooden sword in the air; it spun precisely one turn before she caught it again by the hilt. "Training takes time, and practice. You will make mistakes. I will never fault you for them; you simply correct them and keep training."Â
The girl nodded slowly. Systlin had given the same speech to many girls over the last three weeks, but the habits learned to survive the men of this Pit of a planet went deep. It would be slow going yet; she knew that.Â
"Fifty?" The question was unexpected.Â
"Hm?"
"You are fifty?"
"Close enough, yes."
"Your world then has brews of youth as well?" The girl seemed curious.Â
Systlin blinked. "I...no. But we're descended from the Lady, the goddess and mother of all. We live long." She considered the woman before her; she appeared to be perhaps in her late twenties. "How old are you?"Â
"Oh. Sixty, I think? My masters have given me the brews of youth three times."Â
The yawning pit of cold fury in Systlin's soul howled.Â
"How many years of that," Systlin kept her voice carefully level. "Were you kept as property?"
"Since I was...oh, sixteen?"
The world went abruptly white before her eyes. The yawning spectre of the power she'd pulled from the soul of a slain god roared; goddess of justice, goddess of protection....
Fury, she was furious, and for a moment she knew, knew that it would be so, so easy, to rise on the wind and come down on the people who had done this. To become a storm, a furious reckoning, to scour this world clean in a night...
...No. No no NO. I will not. I have to teach them. They must take it themselves, for all I might lead them. Or it will all be for nothing...
By the time she fought it down and came back to herself she was on her knees, clutching the trampled grass with white knuckles. Sweat was soaking her, as it never did even if she fought all day. Her breath was coming short and sharp.Â
"Ubara!" The voices were panicked, and she realized dimly that there were at least a dozen women around her, patting at her cheeks, offering water.Â
She looked up, and saw worry, and fear, and as the god-soul inside her stirred, she saw more. She saw desperation, and so, so much pain, oceans of pain, seas of injustice, rivers of innocent blood spilled.Â
And as the women of the Tuchuk looked at her, worried, she saw deep in their eyes hope.Â
"Ubara?" It was  Sabra , the brave girl, who'd taken quite well to a spear. "Ubara?"
"I'm all right." She wasn't, not quite; her voice sounded rough to her own ears. "I'm all right. Keep practicing."
The hovered until she got to her feet, but once it was determined that the Ubara was not about to die, they slowly went back to their drills.Â
Systlin moved a bit away, absently climbed the nearest wagon, and sat cross legged, looking out over the makeshift training grounds without really seeing.Â
She'd always been a protector. Since they'd been children, and her sister's dreams had driven little 'Sina to cry and scream in her sleep. Since her father had nurtured that, and taught her that a Queen's people were her children, that her sacred duty was to protect and serve them.Â
Since she'd torn the North back from the hands of the greedy and the corrupt, who'd sought to carve it apart for power and profit.Â
Since she'd faced a god, putting her own body and soul between her people and the Fallen Lord himself.Â
Since she'd faced a second goddess, and demanded the Lady return her daughter from beyond death.Â
It was who she was, in the end. She knew it in her bones, even as she looked down at these strange people in this strange world, and felt it, that what she must do.Â
"Pitting hells." She muttered this softly, and somewhere felt the Lady smile.Â
 For some weeks now, the routine had been much the same; Kamchak and I, and the other men, were kept chained and carefully watched. Some men, after a measure of time should they demonstrate a contrite enough demeanor, had their chains removed and were allowed to move about the camp; they did so, casting their eyes aside from those of us who were still chained.Â
I watched one man brush a bosk one evening, and oil its hooves. A slave girl should do such work, and he was clumsy at it. A girl was watching, wearing the leather trousers that had become fashionable among the women. Her hair, which was very long, was braided up and pinned in a coil on the top of her head; it was unflattering, I thought. She corrected him, and showed him how it was done properly, and he meekly listened. She smiled at him, and I thought that in silks and with hair loose she must have been quite a beauty. He smiled back, a bit tentatively.Â
I snorted in disdain. There are always men that are so, those that are more akin to women than true men.Â
She heard, and turned on me. There was a fierceness in her eyes.Â
"See." She pointed at me, mocking. "He thinks himself better than you, Sarthak. He thinks himself too good for work about the camp, thinks it should be done only by women in chains." She laughed, and spit in my direction. "And yet he is still a prisoner in chains, while you are a free man. So who, then, is the better man?"
Sarthak grinned at me. He wore no scars, and scant weeks ago he had likely been unregarded utterly by the Tuchuk.Â
"You speak true words, Lena." He agreed, and turned his back on me. She gave another laugh, and she turned back to their task. I realized with some surprise that the looks Lena was favoring the unscarred young man with were warm.Â
"Disgraceful." Kamchak was chained to the other axle of the wagon, and he too was regarding the young man with distaste. "Have they made a slave of you already, boy?"
"He's a free man." Lena didn't look around. "All free men and women of able body must do their share of work. You shall too, should you ever be trusted and set free."Â
Kamchak spat again, and leaned his head back against the wagon wheel.Â
"It was a sad day," said the Ubar of the Tuchuk, "That that she-sleen came to the Tuchuk, Tarl Cabot."Â
"Yes." I agreed. I wondered still how many she had slain in that night, through sorcery. The pyres had burned for two days and nights.Â
We watched the girl teach the young man to grease the axles of the wagon. We had little else to do.Â
As the evening meal was brought, we were finally given some surprise to rouse us from the deadly tedium that had marked the weeks.Â
The she-sleen had a cloak now, made of red larl-hide. She wore it pinned at a jaunty angle, thrown back over one shoulder. She was wearing a leather vest over her strange scale armor today. She regarded us for a moment, her hand resting on the hilt of her sword. I'd examined that weapon many times now, and I still could not place the make of it; it was no Gorean style I knew of, and the silver-blue of the blade was unlike any alloy I knew on Earth. It was somewhat shorter than most blades I had seen, perhaps thirty-six inches in all in total length. A great polished amethyst was set into the pommel, the most darkly violet stone I'd ever seen.Â
It was viciously sharp. I knew this.Â
"You." She said to me. The word was said in Gorean; she was learning quickly, it seemed, for all her strange magic did seem to translate for her. "You'll come with me." She nodded at the girl following her...I recognized her, I realized, it was the girl Dina I had seen around camp before, the slave reputed to be the best at the running game...and Dina brought out a ring of keys.Â
Dina's hair was braided, as was Systlin's. Dina wore leather trousers, as did Systlin. Dina wore a quiva, as  Systlin wore her long dagger, and had stood and rested her hand on the hilt of the quiva in conscious imitation of the strange woman.Â
It seemed to be a fashion, I noted, that many of the freed slave girls and even many of the Tuchuk women had taken up.Â
I said nothing. Â It had not been a request, of course, and I had little choice. My leg was healing, but I was far from my top form.
My chains were let loose. I stood, with some difficulty, and Dina's help. She was, I noticed with some surprise, quite strong. There were muscles through her shoulders that I'd never before seen so developed on any Gorean woman, and her hands were tough.Â
I knew that well; my own hands were callused thus from the hilt of sword and the haft of lance. It was surprising that a slave girl had developed such in such a short time.Â
I was led to the great wagon that Systlin had claimed as her own; the wagon that I knew, now, was not the true wagon of the Ubar of the Tuchuks.Â
Inside, a meal of roast bosk had been laid ready for us. Systlin sat cross legged on the cushions; the maleness of the gesture still grated at my sensibilities. Seeing it preformed by one who might look quite well kneeling in silks was wrong, quite wrong. Dina helped me, somewhat ungracefully and with some pain, to sit.Â
Systlin did not touch the food at once. She was watching me, and the gaze was keen and direct. I said nothing, but examined her in return.Â
I am an observant man. It is one of my strengths. But I could gather little from her, save that which I had already deduced; she was strongly built, for a woman, all solid wiry muscle. Her hands were tough, those of a swordsman. Her gaze was intelligent, and I could not place her origin; the bone structure and shape of her eyes was subtly foreign, but not of any place I knew. She could have been beautiful, perhaps, were she arrayed instead in silk. She never, I noted, let her weapons stray far from her hand.Â
She was used, I thought, to fighting. Used even to being attacked in the most secure of surroundings. She had said before that many men had tried to kill her; what sort of creature was this that sat before me?
"You're wondering why I brought you here." She broke the silence. Her tone was crisp, and it was not a question.
I said nothing.Â
"The answer is because you are not of these people. I know that the Wagon Peoples usually slay outsiders. That means you are unusual, and I'm wagering it means you're quite skilled at arms." She examined me again, much as I'd examined her, and I saw her noting the callus of my hands. "Your accent is not like that of these people, as well. They say you are Koroban, wherever the fuck that is. I've heard that you have, apparently, traveled."
I said nothing.Â
"That makes you potentially useful." She informed me of this without a hint of emotion. "I know very little of this world, and while I'm learning, I suspect that you know more than most."
I had heard her say such things before. I am quite well acquainted with such matters, of course, being once of Earth. "Of this world?" I said at last.Â
"Of this world." A horrible humorless smile. "You know full well I'm not from here. This whole place is a nightmare and a travesty. You're lucky my aunt Stellead is not here; sheâs less merciful than I. She'd have castrated the lot of your slavers and rapists, slow roasted the genitals, and fed them back to you a bite at a time. And to be honest, I did consider that."Â
I could not help but cringe at the thought.Â
"From what I have gathered," she continued, "No part of this world is not at the mercy of monsters who hold humans as livestock and use them as they please. It's that, I think, that I've been brought here to end. And you, Tarl Cabot, are going to give me information as I do it."Â
The shock of her words was immediate. "Sent? The priest-kings...."
The wave of a hand, dismissive. "I've heard of them. No. Gods, no. I don't care a whit for them. If they interfere I'll deal with them. No, it's a power higher than them that's sent me."Â
I blinked at her in shock. The priest-kings are feared and worshiped as gods on Gor, with reason. They are advanced beyond any human designs, and are exceptionally powerful. Yet I saw not a trace of fear in her.Â
"They are very powerful," I said. "And your powers may bring their wrath yet." I hoped it, of course. They can burn a man to ashes on a whim.
A laugh. Another cold, humorless laugh. "Maybe." She said. "But I've slain gods before. What are a few more? No. You are going to give me information, Tarl Cabot, on this world. And then I am going to conquer it. Every last damned corner of it."
I stared at her in horror, and she simply smiled in return.
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Prompt where Nia Falling asleep in one of brainys shirts? I love those special couple moments
- Oh anon, I'm sorry for making this sadder than it could have been. But thank you for the prompt! x
It was weird, not having Brainy there at night.
The daytime was always filled with so much action. If Nia wasnât getting nagged by Andrea for a new angle on a story, she was out on patrol as Dreamer, or helping confront their latest enemy with the rest of the Super Friends. At that point, without fail, she would always fall into step with Brainy at her side, but with how busy theyâd both been recently, it was still far too easy to find themselves apart from one another for whole days at a time.
The nights, though? That was another story entirely.
Since Leviathanâs ship, Nia couldnât remember a single night that she hadnât fallen asleep with Brainy laid right next to her.
With him there, things just felt better. She didnât worry about getting woken by nightmares, because if she was, Brainy would be there to help her through them. She knew he didnât sleep all that much, but even at times when she had pulled him from the small portion of the night he did reserve for proper rest, he never seemed to mind. If she was in any sort of distress, even if she tried to assure Brainy otherwise, heâd always see through her act. He never made her feel ashamed of the lack of control her nightmares exposed her to; instead, he was only eager to help her learn from every one. So, theyâd talk it out if she had the energy to do so. If not, Brainy would assume his role as her makeshift pillow, letting her snuggle in close, falling back asleep to the gentle motions of his fingers entwined in her hair.
There were times Brainy would wake from nightmares, too, and although he was still cagey about a lot of them, their promise to be honest with one another had given him the confidence to confide some of his own insecurities over time.
In that way, the night was reserved for the one time they could each find total peace of mind. A reprieve from the stresses of their crazy lives. A chance to share the quiet comfort of each otherâs company.
Except, right now, she couldnât. Right now, Brainy was out in space somewhere, travelling all the way to Argo to take Zor-El home, leaving his side of the bed unwelcomingly cold.
Nia knew Brainy was a confident flyer outside of spacetime co-ordination, but the wound of her Phantom nightmare was still fresh. Any time she thought of Brainy on a ship, she only remembered the breach in the Towerâs shields, could see the hole that had torn right through the shipâs hull, pulling Brainy out into the vacuum of space.
Her throat still felt raw from that memory. Every time she swallowed, she could taste it, the persistent burn of old tears agitating at the back of her mouth. The ache inside her chest where her disembodied screams had mangled every muscle.
And so, when Nia climbed into bed that night, tucking her arm beneath the pillows to get comfortable, she tried to imagine that Brainy was there at her side. She tried to picture what she might have told him if he had been.
Was she ready to tell him about her nightmare? Heâd known something was up with her the second theyâd been knocked out of their respective visions on the ship. He hadnât exactly been subtle about the way heâd been checking in on her since then, but heâd yet to say it out loud. In her heart, Nia knew that Brainy was waiting for her to feel ready to share.
In all honestly, she wasnât so sure she was. Losing Brainy like that had only reminded her of everything sheâd lost for real. Though sheâd been able to cling onto Brainy the moment her nightmare had dissolved, there was someone else that sheâd never be able to hold that way again.
Nia didnât want to look at the photo on her nightstand again, instead keeping herself turned adamantly away from it. Sheâd thought she was past this part, the sick and empty feeling in the pit of her stomach any time someone mentioned their own mom, the tightness in her lungs when she chanced a glance at her motherâs image. It had taken her months to build the courage to wade through the photos she had of her mother, and longer still to use one as her screen saver.
Up until recently, seeing that image had finally started to make her feel strong again.
But, then that trip to 2009 had happened, and god, maybe it had just been a recorded message, but it didnât matter. It was a string of words that Nia hadnât been able to find on any videos or VCR tapes. A voice that might not have been directed at her, but couldâve still been directed at anyone.
And that had been enough to break her all over again.
She knew Brainy wouldnât judge her, but despite the words of wisdom and comfort heâd imparted on her over the last few months, she knew that he was still afraid he couldnât give her enough, that the grossly distant relationship he had with his own mother might make him an ineffectual counsel. To Nia, though? She couldn't imagine going through this without him.
She didnât think she had the energy to talk about it, anyway. All she really wanted was to feel Brainyâs arms around her, the heat of his life projectors thrumming through the fabric of his shirt, warming her chest.
Nia sighed dejectedly, snuggling further into the pillow, catching remnants of Brainyâs scent on the cotton.
Which was when her hand snagged against something familiar.
Niaâs lips twitched into a smile as she pulled out one of Brainyâs Bon Jovi shirts heâd made habit of sleeping in from beneath his pillow. Meticulously folded, of course, as though ready to display in a store. She nearly rolled her eyes.
She was pretty certain his shirt hadnât been there that morning. In fact, she knew that Brainy wouldnât normally keep his clothes anywhere but in the hamper or in her chest of drawers. Nia bit her lip, thinking back to earlier that evening when Brainy had gone into the bedroom, insisting heâd needed to âgrab a few thingsâ before he left for the trip.
A warmth blossomed inside her chest. Oh, heâd definitely left it for her. A parting gift, in a way.
Maybe he hadnât wanted to ask her until she was ready, but that didnât mean heâd felt comfortable leaving her alone so soon after everything that had transpired.
Nia had certainly stolen Brainyâs shirts to sleep in before, and although that feeling of being wrapped inside a significantly oversized garment was always better than sleeping in her own PJâs, this gesture felt far more personal than any before it.
Which was why Nia spent no time at all shrugging out of her own pyjama shirt in favour of Brainyâs. She tucked her knees into her chest the second she was comfortable, pulling the shirt down around as much of her as possible, breathing in the scent of his shampoo still ingrained in the fabric.
Nia curled tight into her side, bunching the shirt beneath her fingers, squeezing it tight.
Maybe Brainy couldnât be with her tonight, but even faced with the darkest visions the Naltorian dreamscape had to offer, at least she had a piece of him that she could still hold onto.
#supergirl#supergirl fanfiction#brainia#nia nal#brainiac 5#querl dox#brainy#supergirl 6x09#my writing#my prompts#anon#i hope that the cute and sad balances out here#also i hope it's okay in general lol it's 2am and i'm riding out some vaccine side effects#hope you enjoy! i'm going to bed now đ
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Mollymauk, 4, 5, 11, 13, 14, 15, 21, 22 :D (feel free to trim down if this is too many)
asksjkdf I'm sorry in advance because I got a little carried away so this got a little long, but thanks for the ask! I love any and every excuse to talk about Mollymauk...
4.) Best places to kiss on their body
I think Molly is actually very partial to forehead kisses! I feel like he uses that to ground Caleb in part because itâs something thatâs always been very comforting to him--for instance, when Yasha finally gets to embrace him again, she also kisses his forehead. I think I remember Molly doing this for the twins back at the carnival too, so I feel like itâs a habit he picked up from the circus? Just the kind of little thing you do for someone to show you love them.
Aside from that, I think he would really appreciate a kiss on the neck, where most of his blood hunter scars--and that haunting red Eye--are. A bit of loving tenderness to soothe the pain.
5.) Guilty pleasures
Oh I love this pick for Molly cause boY does he have a lot of these!! He builds a life off joy and hedonism, so heâs got this in spades. I forget where, but Iâve definitely seen someone theorize before that the reason base pleasures are so appealing to Molly is because he started out just feeling like an âEmptyâ body, so anything thatâs very stimulating on a physical level is very grounding for him? I really like the idea of that. I think wanting to feel like he was really âaliveâ and âwholeâ is part of why he gravitated towards decadence and indulgence, anything that made his heart beat faster.
The episode where we get the famous âLong may I reignâ scene definitely covers a lot of his favorite indulgences. But as much as he loves being spoiled, I think he also likes making sure the people he cares about are pampered like royalty too. Taliesin mentioned before that the reason Molly likes gold so much is because heâs got this very childish perception that money is Good because you can use it to get Nice Things that make other people Happy. Since Mollyâs been alive for only two years, I feel like a lot of his guilty pleasures actually stem from this sort of sentiment. The fact that heâs still so young and everything in the world is very new and exciting and he just wants to be as happy as possible--and make his loved ones happy too. Itâs a very endearingly innocent sort of view.
11.)Â Bad or petty habits
Hmmm I feel like the one thing that makes Molly the pettiest is when someone tries to tell him his tarot readings are bullshit lmao. Even if he mostly thinks so himself, he adamantly refuses to hear it from anyone else.
13.) What gets them flustered
I think whenever someone is being very genuine and having a real heart to heart with him. Molly is perfectly at ease talking bullshit or telling pretty lies. Heâs also very comfortable being very sincere and compassionate when it comes to comforting others, like the little ways heâs always trying to cheer up Jester, the forehead kiss for Caleb, promising Fjord the Nein wonât let him die, bringing Yasha a four-leaf-clover with the wish that one day sheâll feel happier.
But whenever people are openly affectionate and trying to have an honest conversation with him? I think that makes him tense up and panic a bit. Heâs not good with letting himself be vulnerable, dropping his showmanâs performance. We actually see a lot of this when Molly is resurrected and starts going by Kingsley. He knows he has feelings for the Nein, but heâs definitely a little nervous and overwhelmed when he confronts that.
Several times, Caleb assures King heâs still welcome in the Nein, and that always makes Kingsley either defensive or very quiet, keeps catching him off-guard. âWell for starters, you are with friends.â âPerhaps this is your first time meeting us. It's our second time...Stick with us.â âWe have a habit of taking in strays.â âThis is the newest member of the band.â Being accepted just like that, loved by all the Nein so unconditionally, just like that? I think it leaves him a little shaken, because he doesnât feel like heâs done anything to earn it. Like he doesnât deserve to be this missed and wanted and loved.
14.) Ingrained habits/forces of habit
I think there are some nights where he keeps looking over his shoulder and feels like heâs being watched--when the Eyes of Nine start to itch and burn, when it feels like somethingâs crawling under his skin--and he looks at the mirror and swears he sees a face that looks just the same but somehow isnât his. And for a while after he first wakes--and again when heâs resurrected--I think there are still moments when heâs scared or panicked and heâll just keep repeating Empty over and over.
I also really like how Taliesin used to just pick a random card from his tarot deck to decide what Molly should do. I can definitely see Mollymauk doing something similar--just pulling a random card from his deck on a whim, trusting itâll lead him in the right direction.
15.) What it takes to make them cry
I feel like Molly rarely cries, mainly because he hates feeling sorry for himself or ruminating on any bad memories. Heâs kinda funny that way; he refuses to let himself be unhappy, especially when he feels like heâs always living on borrowed time. The one thing I can see really making him break down is seeing his loved ones hurting--he literally spits at the face of his own death, but I think heâs really terrified of losing someone else.
If thereâs one scene where I can really see Molly crying, itâs when Jester falls in that final battle. When Caleb makes this desperate plea that breaks through to Molly for a single heart-wrenching moment, âYouâre killing her, youâre killing her! You love her. Youâre killing her!â The absolute horror of that shakes Lucienâs control for just a moment, and Molly claws at his own face in retaliation. You can just tell how much his heart is breaking just then, how scared he is, how much he must hate himself. I could definitely imagine Molly shedding a few tears right then, if he had enough control of the body to do it.
Having to watch Lucien use his body to kill Jester and Caleb, the amount of pain Lucien caused Yasha and all the others, the nightmares of his death and black chains that forever haunt him after--I think those are the kinds of things that would bring Molly to tears in his lowest moments. And when he finally reads Beauâs book and finds out about how Yasha suffered a similar fate under Obann? Yeah, I think heâd get choked up over that too.
21.) Turning points in their life
Oh, thereâs so many interesting twists and turns Mollyâs life takes in just a few short years. Undoubtably, I think every life, death, and rebirth left the biggest impact. The fact that he woke all alone that first time--and then found himself surrounded by so many loved ones a lifetime later--I think that had a profound impact on his sense of self worth and his attachment to others.
That first life, Molly convinces himself that he must have been someone awful before, to have been left alone in an unmarked grave on the side of the road. With no one who missed or mourned him. He believes he somehow deserves that fate. And when heâs taken in by the circus? Taliesin mentions he never spends more than 24 hours alone. Heâs...very lonely, I think. Someone who canât bear to be isolated again. So when he wakes up again to a whole family of people who love him? Who welcome him wholeheartedly and insist theyâll love him unconditionally, no matter who he is? Itâs beautiful, and it means the world to someone like Mollymauk/Kingsley. âIâm looking forward to the future. And I hope to deserve to have woken up surrounded by such people.â
Mollyâs also mentioned that it was the Moonweaver who helped guide him when he first woke, who gave him comfort in having a new start in life. âCan you imagine what it would feel like to not feel anything about anything that had happened to you so far?...Itâs very freeing. Itâs the best thing--Itâs the thing that happened to me. Itâs not the best thing that happened to me, itâs the thing that happened to me. I found peace in building a new person. The Moonweaver--â However he came to worship the Moonweaver, I think it was definitely one of the most formative experiences in all his lives. I also like to headcanon the woman in a red coat Molly/King met in his dream was another visit from the Moonweaver, and she was either trying to return his memories or offer him another chance at a fresh start.
22.) People whoâve influenced them greatly
Oh, pre-campaign I think Molly modeled a lot of his behaviors and mannerisms after others in the circus, especially Gustav. Heâs the one who named Mollymauk and presumably the one who spent the most time raising him and caring for him in that Empty period.
Molly has his own set of morals he feels very strongly about, and itâs entirely learned from the circus, âThings came back quick, and the circus helped. They were good people. They did a lot for me, and joy can fill an awful lot of a personâs life.â âI may be a liar, but Iâm never a betrayer. Iâm honest in my work and I believe in doing a good turn...I stayed with that circus for two years, and I know how people treat each other. Itâs important.â When Molly is resurrected again, I think all of the Mighty Nein have very much the same effect on him.
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aftermath đ„
fandom: demon slayer: kimetsu no yaiba
pairing: kyoujurou x reader
ratings: g for g(ood lord what have I written)eneral audiences
warnings: feelings :)Â
word count: 1604
summary: just some overindulgent fluff with kyoujurou after muzan got his ass beat :)
a/n:Â iâm a rengoku simp (are you really surprised?) honestly I love this man with my whole chest
plus he still be alive in my heart so heâs alive after the big boss battle đ€
Your eyes trace his form as he swings the wooden sword almost expertly. Training even on an off dayânothing unusual from the Flame Pillar himself. You hope to one day be as strong as him, even though you can barely keep up with him now as it is. Itâs entirely too peaceful nowadays, yet thereâs still a few threats to be eliminated. The big fight had left the Pillars battered and bruised, missing a few pieces of themself in the process. Youâre thankful though; thankful that Kyoujurou prevailed with minor injuriesâother than losing his eye and being left with a weaker respiratory system from the wound Akaza had blessed him with.
He was still strong, still training as if the demon lord was about to walk up the walkway of the Rengoku estate.Â
Yet, you canât will yourself to convince him to stop. Training had been ingrained in him for so long, that it would probably take a while before heâs ready to lay down his sword. You think it shouldnât be much longer; the modern era is quickly catching up with the world around you, so youâre almost sure it wonât be much longer then.Â
âIs big brother still practicing?â Senjurou comes over then, sitting beside you to watch the other man swing his sword. You lean back on your hands, nodding.Â
âMhm. Old habits die hard, so I can see why,â you explain with the ghost of a smile at your lips. Senjurou nods, understanding. Itâs truly going to take a while before he relaxes into the new normal. Shifting, you adjust yourself. Wincing from the soreness of your limbs as you adjust your casted leg to where itâs a bit more comfortable. In the final battle, your leg had been mangled to the point where you were sure youâd lose it, yet Shinobu and the girls at the Butterfly Mansion were sure to patch you right up and get you in the process of healing. Noticing your mild discomfort, the boy makes a noise, turning to you.Â
âAre you okay? Does it hurt?â He questions, concerned. You smile, shaking your head at him.Â
âItâs fine, Senjurou, really. Just adjusting to get a bit more comfortable,â you assure him. You try to mask the discomfort in your expression as best you can, wanting to shield the boy from having to deal with it, deal with you, but like his brother heâs stupidly perceptive in a way that makes you want to puff your cheeks out and huff childishly. Damn these Rengoku brothers.Â
The look in his eyes tells you he doesnât believe you, but he does nod. âMaybe you need a pillow for your leg then?â he suggests. You canât deny him, he looks so determined!, so you sigh and smile at him.Â
âSure. Mind fetching one for me?â
The boyâs eyes brighten as he bobs his head in a nod, shifting to stand.
âOkay! Be right back!â he hurries off to fetch said pillow, and for a moment you watch him. Wondering what itâs like to be normal. Youâve been training to be a demon slayer since you were a preteen and now you wonder what life wouldâve been like had you not been one? Not that Senjurou had it easier, but he hasnât seen the same things youâve seen. He hasnât had to watch comrades get mauled and devoured by demons. Heâs lucky he wonât ever have to, either.Â
âYou know, itâs not good to lie to children,â
Kyoujurouâs voice startles you, causing you to jump a little (wasnât he just practicing?) and the surprise you show makes him chuckle. Moving to sit beside you, leaning in to press a kiss to your temple gently.Â
âThatâs not very nice [y/n],â he chides playfully, reaching for the water pouch heâd brought with him at the beginning of this little training session. Usually, he practices in the dojo, but today heâd decided to entertain you in the front yard. How sweet of him. You roll your eyes playfully at him, unable to not smile in his presence, then you allow your head to rest gently on his shoulder. His arm was still healing from the Akaza fight as well, and heâd regretfully had to sit the main boss battle out. He hadnât been too happy about it, but he knew he wouldâve been more of a crutch than a help. Though it had taken place months after the Infinity Train incident, the extent of his injuries kept him out for quite a while. And honestly, you wonder if thatâs what drives him to train even though thereâs no need to anymore.
Honestly, from what youâve heard, heâs not the only pillar who still trains daily.
âIâm sorry, Iâll apologize,â you hum, though you know it wonât do much good. Senjurou knew you were lying and simply played along. For a moment you sigh, basking in the warmth of the moment. Your mind isnât on demons, or fighting. Moreso on your boyfriend, and finally being able to settle down and start a family with him. Itâs nice to pretend as if you two were normal from the get go, but your wounds say otherwise. As do the nightmares that plague you both. Itâs going to take a while for your mentalities to settle enough to try to figure out what ânormalâ is, but youâre sure it wonât be too hard.
âIâm back!â Senjurou joins you two, pillow in hand as he moves to set it gently underneath your wrapped leg. Patting it for good measure but sits on the other side of you, hands in his lap as he watches both you and Kyoujurou and smiles happily. Heâs thankful that his brother is alive, and is thankful that youâre here with them as well and it shows.
âThank you Senjurou, that feels a lot better,â it really does; the softness of the pillow is very welcomed. Beside you, Kyoujurou shifts a little to get comfortable, glancing over at his brother for a moment and seems to get an idea.Â
âSenjurou! Could you go grab those snacks Kanroji-san sent us?â he questions. âI would go, but Iâm a bit worn out from training,â he admits sheepishly, cheeks a little pink. It frustrates him to know that his stamina isnât the same; at the cost of his life heâd ben injured in such a way that had really impacted him in such a way that in the first few months it was hard. It was so hard, but heâs slowly adjusting to the changes. Youâre quite the help with that, and his motivation to keep going at it. Though heâd just gotten back from fetching the pillow, at the mention of snacks, he perks.Â
âOkay! Iâll be right back!â he shoots up and jogs off, causing both you and Kyoujurou to laugh gently. How cuteâheâs just like Kyoujurou sometimes, you think to yourself.
An arm wraps around your waist and you lean into it, allowing yourself to be gently pulled closer. Kyoujurou tips his head to brush his nose against the crown of your head, sighing as he buries himself into the sweet scent of your [scent] hair, finding comfort in it. He too is surprised heâs still alive, but thanks the gods everyday they allowed him to continue living with you, happily. You donât mind this and in fact you turn a little, carefully of your leg, to snuggle into his side, which doesnât help how he nearly pulls you into his lap, simply wanting to hold you and have you close to him.Â
âI know I havenât really talked about it, but when I fought that demon on the train, I was so scared,â he says, voice soft for once. He very rarely speaks softlyâheâs such a loud man sometimes you find yourself wanting to smack your hand over his pretty mouthâso when he does lower his voice like this, youâre inclined to listen. âI was scared Iâd never see you again, never see my father or Senjurou either. I really thought,â he sighs softly, tightening his hold on you. âI really thought when I saw my mother that it was over. I wanted to go with her but. . .at the same time, I wanted to stay here with you all as well. It was really hard, debating over where I should go, but sheâs the one who told me that my time here wasnât finished,â you know this yourself. When theyâd gotten to Kyoujurou, heâd bled out so much that he needed multiple blood transfusions. He was in a coma for weeks, and youâre sure at one point he did die. And hearing this confirms it. Your eyes water thinking of how lonely you wouldâve been had he not here, of how quiet the Rengoku estate would be had his loud laughter ceased to fill the halls. It wouldâve been so hard to move on without him, so youâre very thankful his mother helped him come back to you. He must sense youâre on the verge of tears, because he pulls back to look down at you, tilting your chin up so that youâre both looking each other in the eye.Â
âAh, darling please donât cry,â he sounds almost pained to know that youâre upsetâor that you seem upset. The tears fall, but heâs quick to wipe them away. You sniffle, feeling pitiful for a moment.Â
âSorry. Iâm just really happy you came back,â you say, voice cracking. He finds himself smiling despite the fact that youâre crying, and ducks down to press a gentle kiss to your lips.Â
âMe too.â
-x
#demon slayer fanfic#demon slayer fanfiction#kny fanfic#kny fanfiction#demon slayer#kimetsu no yaiba#kimetsu no yaiba fanfiction#kimetsu no yaiba fanfic#kny#rengoku kyoujurou#kyokurou rengoku#rengoku x reader#kyoujurou rengoku x reader#yall im crying#this wasn't supposed to be this SAD
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Hereâs an analysis of the âTommyâs Plan To Kill Dreamâ stream (part 2)
Continuation of this here (though it really isnât needed to read that one to read this as I will be recapping a bit as I go):Â https://stellocchia.tumblr.com/post/645995202162671616/heres-an-analysis-of-the-tommys-plan-to-kill
This is the less intense part of the stream. They already talked about their plans to kill Dream (well, Tommyâs plan that Tubbo is VERY reluctant about and Ranboo agrees with). Weâre moving into the gathering resources for the surveilance post part now.Â
As always moving forward Iâll be soley talking about the characters and, for the dialogue, this are the respective colors: Tommy, Tubbo, Ranboo, Ghostbur.
Analysis under the cut as always
So letâs start off with the obvious: I absolutely love how protective Tubbo and Ranboo are of Tommy, Iâm glad he has people who actually care in his life right now. We have various examples of this throughout the stream, but the first one is Tommy seeing a creeper, backing off immediatly (because of his hightened fear of pain, aslo known as algophobia apparently) and them immediately destroying the threat. Of course this is also because they donât want Snowchester blown up, but itâs still sweet nonetheless.Â
He also opens up about his algophobia right after to them and asks for some armour, which Tubbo actually provides.
âYouâre wearing Dreamâs armour, arenât you Tubbo?â âYeahâ âOkay, I wouldnât- I genuinely would advice not. Anything that that manâs fucking been too near you donât wanna be usingâ Tommyâs fear of Dream by now is just all encompassing. It is also quite peculiar that he would say this while still using Dreamâs trident (right? Itâs still his right?), though that could simply be because he puts himself in the category of âthings that have been too near Dreamâ by now and really canât be affected more then he already has been, though this is just a theory.Â
Same thing as with the creeper happens with a skeleton a couple minutes later.
âWhat happened? Holy crapâ âTubbo he beat me to death, he punched me to deathâ Bee duo starting to realize how serious Tommyâs situation is right after the scheleton encounter because Tommy was just genuinely panicking.Â
âPain it feels so much more real now, âcause I know whatâs on the other sideâ âSurely doesnât that give closure?â âNo... no it gives quite the opposite Tubboâ And what a good choice that was narratively speaking! If death did give closure as us and the characters in the story themselves expected, with resurrection it would be meaningless. This way though, death has just as much narrative weight as if resurrection wasnât there, which is what you want in a story.Â
âOn a side note for you two: Sam Nook great guy! Really lovely guy! Awesamdude is a bastard and does not deserve to be running that prison. If he let me die he failed his jobâ We can see that Tommyâs perception of the wardenâs duty is strickingly different from Samâs. To Tommy the top priority should be protecting others from Dream (even if it means compromising the security of the prison), while to Sam the top priority is keeping Dream locked up.
âMy therapy update!â We all knew I had to include this one. Itâs actually really great because:Â
1) Him actually reacheing out to Puffy to get therapy means that he actually recognises that he needs help and is willing to ask for it, which is the first step towards healing
2) Him acting so happy about it is actually such a good message for the younger viewers to see that therapy is nothing to be afraid of and itâs not taboo
One more thing we had him wanting to remove his own statues as theyâre a grim reminder of his death in a scene that is very similar to Tubbo on the 16th asking to remove the decorations of the day of his execution.Â
âI donât think itâs a particularly good idea to... try and kill Dream. I donât know how canon lives work for you anymore, but I only got one leftâ As I pointed out in the other post the 2 main reasons why Tubbo is reluctant about the plan are that heâs on his last life and that he managed to build a life for himself with Snowchester and Ranboo that he doesnât wanna loose.Â
âListen guys, Iâve experienced death now, it doesnât matter how many lives I have left now, Iâm NOT willing to go through that againâ âYeah that makes sense actually, that makes senseâ This is an interesting question though of how many lives he re-acquired. We know Jack came back with 3 when he did it, but then again, normal rules donât seem to apply to Jack Manifold. Also I wanted to include Ranbooâs quote there just because heâs literally been nothing but supportive and I love him for it.Â
Also all 3 teens decide at once that ignoring the Egg will most definitely make the problem go away, because that has always worked in the past of course! (Also, honestly, good for them. Let the adults take care of something for once!)
âIâm not very god at smal- thatâs not trueâ âMhmmâ âSo eh... you guys heard The News?â âThe news about what?â âThe news about...?â âYou know... what-whatâs been happening...â âWhatâs been happening?â âAbout- about umm... Georgeâ âAbout George? What happened with the Gogmeinster?â âOh yeah, he got banned! Twiceâ âNo no, he... he grew a third earâ âReally? Oh man!â âOh yeah! Iâve seen a photo of that on instagram!â So, aside from this being so funny, the reason Iâm highlighting it is because if there is one thing Tommy never struggled with in the past it was small talk. He could literally start blabbering with anyone about anything, no matter how dumb, with absolute confidence. Now heâs struggling with everything (both here and later in the Nether we have similar scenes for it). He is insecure about everything he says and socializing seems much harder for him. Regardless both Tubbo and Ranboo still go along with everything he says with absolute confidence, which seems to help him quite a bit. Considering that his biggest desire seems to be to be treated the same as he was before having them not pointing out his obvious insecurity (while still very obviously noticing it) is probably quite a big thing for him.Â
âWhy are Punzâs eyes red?â âWhy? Oh- Where is Punz?â âOh, that might mean we have to kill him, he might kill us on sightâ âYeah, he might try to kill you. Where are you Tommy by any me- where are you?â âYeah, stay away from himâ âNo I can fucking take him man!â âNo because you get scared of damage...â âTommy... yeahâ âI donât get scared of damage!â âThatâs not trueâ âTommy where are you?â I loved this scene so much! Tommy didnât actually even see Punz here, he only saw his face on the players tab, but the other two were immediately on the defensive. Also this is what I mean when I say that itâs not that they donât acknowledge Tommyâs situation, theyâre just trying to give him some normalcy, because, as soon as he is in any actual or perceived danger theyâre immediately in high alert.Â
âYouâre like a living ghostâ âI think thatâs just called a human Tubboâ âYouâre like a humanâ âThatâs just called someone who is aliveâ âYouâre treating me differentlyâ So two things here:Â
1) Tubbo still has a lot of confusion towards the whole revival process an thatâs what he was trying to express. Ranboo was not particularly happy with his choice of words though and kinda got the defensive tone again
2) Tommy shuts down very fast any time any kind of change is mentioned. In this case the change being Tubboâs perception of him.
That said they manage to recover the situation really fast with Ranboo making a comparison between Tommy and Jesus (theyâre teenagers, what can I say?)
âTubbo I feel like weâve grown less close while Iâve been in prison and deadâ âThatâs âcause youâve been gone for such a long time...â âDo you like me less?â âNope!â âWell it feels like you doâ âWell, thatâs all in your head then!â âNoâ âMaybe you superpower is immaginationâ âMaybe my superpower is anxietyâ Well Tommy, do my job for me, will you? But yes, these kind of thoughts (fretting about what others, especially your friends or family think of you) is extremely common for individuals suffering from anxiety disorders. Also what Tubbo did here was really important, even if it is the bare minimum, he still provided the ressurance his friend needed and thatâs good of him. Also, while Tommyâs dependence on Tubbo does shine through quite a bit during this stream Tubbo does continuosly set up healthy boundaries for them (introducing and keeping firm on his relationship with Ranboo and admitting that they did grow apart a bit and he is still confused about Tommy for example), which is extremely good. Ranboo is also presenting himself as a viable option for emotional support, which will actually be good for Tommy in the future as this would mean breaking out of the habit that was ingrained in him of relying on one single person every time.Â
âIâm not afraid of anything! The only thing Iâm afraid of is, you know, waking up in the morning and...â âThe- the thing your afraid of is waking up in the- are you alright? Are you- are you alright man? Are you good?â Thatâs concerning! But, again, very fitting with his newfound extreme anxiety he seems to be experiencing. Also ConcernedBoo, he just care about his friends and is worried. Pretty sure Tommy fits together with Michael and Tubbo in the circle of people heâs willing to protect.
Also, in case people were wondering, Ghostbur wasnât handing out sugar because he was a fake Ghostbur, but just because Ranboo gave it to him and it was the only thing he had. Same goes for Tommy calling Ghostbur âWilburâ and acting as if he was Alivebur and Ghostbur only correcting him after quite a while: itâs not because heâs fake, itâs because he gave permission to Tommy specifically to do so before. As I mentioned in the other post their relationship is complicated, but Ghostbur very much cares for Tommy a whole lot and he came back specifically because he heard Tommy needed help again, itâs not so weird heâd allow him to do stuff he doesnât allow for others.
âLast time I spoke to you was like a few days ago...â Now, as some people pointed out this could simply be Ghostbur memory being sort of foggy and him not realizing how much time passed. But the OTHER theory is that he remembers talking to Phantommy (which we know happened thanks to Quackityâs lore, as they visited Glattâs gym together). Honestly both are plausible (if the first one was true then meeting Phantommy may have simply made him upset and he could have forgotten about it, or perhaps he could have just forgotten that Tommy was dead).Â
âGhostbur do you want him (Wilbur) to come back? Because I- I donât. I donât think that I do everâ âItâs... I... umm, hm. The-the world needs structure and order and he- he was good at that. He did that-â âNo. The world needs less villains and he was a villain if Iâve ever seen oneâ âBut a- a villain is just- is- sometimes the lineâs a little blurry. You could say a little blurry, a tiny bit, itâs like a- a villain itâs just a hero you havenât convinced yetâ Now, as much as I love Ghostbur heâs half wrong here. Let me explain:Â
Simply put not all bad people can be redeemed for one thing (for example someone like Dream could never be redeemed because he hurt so many people in such horrible ways without ever regretting it), and secondly describing a villain as a âhero YOU HAVENâT CONVINCED yetâ puts the responsability of that persnonâs actions on their victims. As a matter of fact itâs most definitely NOT up to the ones whoâve been hurt to reabilitate the ones who hurt them (which is why Sam managing the prison now is considerable a conflict of interests). They shouldnât even be forced to forgive that person if the person DOES change for the better. And hereâs the crux of the issue: Wilbur hurt a LOT of people. He hurt Tubbo, he hurt Niki, he hurt Fundy, he hurt everyone who joined Pogtopia. And more then anything else he hurt Tommy. He was abusive and manipulative towards him and Tommy has every right to never forgive him. He has every right to be scared of him and regard him purely as a villain, because thatâs what he was for him towards the end of his life.Â
Ghostbur bringing him back in the hopes that heâs changed at all just means that, once again, the responsability of his possible reabilitation will be left entirely on the shoulders of the teens of the server and the same goes for if there is NO reabilitation. The destruction will, once more, be left for them to deal with. Tommy specifically will have one more person who abused him to deal with. Wether Wilbur will or will not ally himself with Dream doesnât matter, because he was still a destructive individual on his own (despite of course being that way because of his own mental spiral, but that just makes him more sympathetic, it doesnât justify his actions nor make them any less hurtful for those around him).Â
Also Wilburâs been dead for 10-12 years in Limbo time, I canât imagine that doing wonders for his mental state...
There is a scene after that conversation where Tommy was talking about how being dead was, Tubbo asked a question about it and Tommy got upset. Of course the others got confused about his reactions since ha was already talking about, so, to clarify: the probable reason why anyone (aside from Ghostbur apparently) asking him questions about it upsets him is probably because of Dream. He mentioned multiple times now that Dream treating his death as a science experiment when he revived him was extremely traumatic for him. He hates the idea of being âjust scienceâ to the people around him. Ghostbur seem to be an exception to this, but that may be because Tommy seems predisposed to just trust Ghostbur more from an emotonal stand-point (perhaps because he reminds him of how Wilbur used to be before he spiraled).Â
âI love monster energyâ âMonster energy is kind of scary...â âMhm, itâs for monsters...â Man the very low-key constant self-deprecation sure itâs kinda worrying... I really do hope that someone will help him with his very obvious sef-esteem issues at some point.
âHe (Wilbur) spent a lot of time around a bad guy. He spent around a decade, you said, around Schlatt and Schlatt- Schlattâs the bed guy, Right?â âI donât think Schlattâs the only bad guyâ âHim and Eret are the bad guys, right?â Once again Ghostburâs view of things is very naive and still very much stuck in the past. Itâs been so long now since Eret betrayal, and they tried to redeem themselves since. Meanwhile itâs also been months since Schlatt died, and, even back when he was alive, he was far from being the only arguably bad person, Wilbur being right there along with him if we consider what his actions caused. And now we have Dream and the Egg, we have Quackity indulging in torture, we have the syndacate having a gestapo arc, we have Jack back on his goal of killing a teen. We can be sympathetic toward many of this people, but this doesnât change the fact that they hurt others a lot or that their objectives or actions are objectively morally wrong in some cases. By now itâs honestly pretty hard to draw the line of who IS and ISNâT a bad guy.
âCobble is GOOD, people donât like it when I use cobble though...â Again, the usual self confidence is completely lacking. This is worse then post exile: back then he still had the full confidence to build an ugly cbblestone tower on Technoâs front lawn, now even using a bit of cobblestone makes him self-concious.Â
Also apparently Sam instructed Sam Nook to keep Tommy specifically away from the prison for his own safety. Manâs still looking after him even if he probably wonât manage to do it directly for a while (at least until Tommy forgives him, if he does).
Thatâs pretty much it! Itâs everything Iâd consider important that I could find in the stream!
@mysweatymakerstudentworld
#tommyinnit#tubbo#wilbur soot#ranboo#ghostbur#tw abuse#tw manipulation#c!wilbur critical#I guess?#analysis#dream smp#/rp#my post#long post#though long ass post would fit better#I seriously just made a two parter on a block man roleplay huh?#god what is my life...
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