#I can spin so many stories from that one anime moment alone

[alexiethymia]

As promised, Death on the Ice Field

Nothing I say here will be new since the themes have been tackled plenty of times in fanfic (which I am so thankful for), but it’s still fun regardless. I feel like I usually have to put the disclaimer that this is a HitsuHina blog, because I think I will always have more to say about them.

Like Death on the Ice Field for example. It frustrates me the anime didn’t show Momo’s part here, because I’ve always believed that she was as crucial to Rangiku and Granny in setting up Toshiro on the path of a shinigami and meeting Hyourinmaru.

The way I see it, Momo was the spark, the impetus, Rangiku showed the way, while Granny allowed him to go. The special chapter, in my view, was all about awakenings or an awareness of change. It was Momo leaving which reminded Toshiro about things changing. It’s an allegory of sorts about growing up. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that perhaps this chapter also showed the start of his awareness of his budding feelings towards her (I mean there will always be naysayers and live and let live, but even without the relationship chart, I don’t think you’d blush at your sister or sister-figure no matter how close she was).

Another thing is how when he says Momo and Granny were the only ones never to be afraid of him, he says next that that’s why he likes Granny, but he doesn’t say the same of Momo. I’ve always thought Kubo excelled in his use of negative space, but that also applies to the dialogue-variant in that he seriously leaves a lot of things unsaid and interactions unexplored (Isshin reuniting with Rangiku and Toshiro, Kirio with Hiyori). It leaves a lot of room for interpretation and makes things fun for fans. Personally, I always read it as him being unsure of his feelings for Momo now, again something brought to his awareness with her leaving, a characteristic tsundere response if you could say.

He measures time by the number of years she entered the academy, and while she still smiles brightly at him - the same smile she graced him with five years ago - she no longer faces back (to Toshiro, Jurinan, take your pick) when saying goodbye the way she did the first time she left. And unlike five years ago where Toshiro just scowls and says she shouldn’t bother visiting anymore, this time he no longer keeps the pretense up, he waves back, though a bit limply because Momo doesn’t even see it, only facing forward, sure in her goal. (Be careful what you wish for and all that.)

So when Grandma says at the end that Toshiro didn’t want to make her lonely, it brings to mind what she said while scolding Toshiro that he shouldn’t say what he said because doesn’t Momo leaving make him feel lonely? He doesn’t deny it either, only pretends that everything is ok and that she’ll be back soon anyway. It’s also no coincidence, I think, that Granny wanted to talk to him right after Momo visited again. In other words, he didn’t want to make Granny lonely the same way Momo leaving made him feel lonely. But that theme of loneliness also applies to Hyourinmaru. Both sword and master would always feel lonely if Toshiro never discovered his name. And if you take Bleach Track 8 as canon (which I do because I love that Drama CD), there’s something to be said about Toshiro discovering Hyourinmaru’s name out of a desire to protect Momo, and Momo being the first to discover him discovering his shikai and subsequently calling him ‘Hitsugaya-kun’ without any prompting this time. In a way, it was a mark of growing up for Toshiro. That’s why there’s plenty of underlying themes between Hyourinmaru and Hinamori in relation to Toshiro that I love to see explored, which @rays-of-fire-and-ice does wonderfully in their fic! That theme of loneliness was also present in Momo during the Soul Society arc (and truthfully for a lot of characters) when she must have felt so isolated because of everything going on around her.

Laying it all out like this, you can really see the parallels with how Toshiro wakes up to both Momo and Rangiku, and how the line “I hear a voice” gets repeated for both Momo and his Granny. I don’t know how intentional Kubo really is with references to mythology, but it’s a fun coincidence to liken the three of them to the fates - Momo as the Maiden, Rangiku as the Mother, and Grandma as the crone - all pivotal to Toshiro’s path.

[traumaboyexo]

CIRCLES UPON CIRCLES: LONESOME GLOW

[[No idea what the exact story or plan is for Loop in the @circlesuponcircles AU, but I really liked the idea of Loop being trapped in the Orrery room and I wanted to do something for it. It's a little short but I hope you like it.]]

You push the smallest ball on the strange sculpture once again. The entire figure spins once again. You watch as it goes round and round once again.

Round and round and round.

You've been doing this for the past few hours. At least you think it's been a few hours. It could only have been a few minutes. You can barely tell anymore.

You watch as the figure of orbs slowly comes down to a stop, motionless, silent.

You flick the smallest ball once more.

For a moment, you consider kicking the entire thing over in rage. You consider throwing it against the wall and watching it shatter into a a small pile of debris, letting the orbs aimlessly roll around the floor.

It'd be far more entertaining that whatever has happened so far. It'd be new.

You want to scream.

Alone. You don't remember how long you've been alone but it's been very, very long. Not another voice than your own. Not another sound than the ones you make.

You almost heard their voices once, in the midst of your madness. You thought you were there, with you. That for a moment, you weren't alone.

It's sickening. It's disgusting. It's horrifying.

It just needed to be on the other side. The question that you could answer. To open this door. Why couldn't it have been inside? Why was this prison made?! Why are you even here?!

You so hopelessly wish to bash your head against the door until one of them breaks apart and crumbles. To know that no matter which outcome occurs, it'll all be over for you.

You need to get out. You need to get out. You need to get out. You need to get out. You need to get out. You need to get out.

...you take a deep breath.

It doesn't help anymore. But you can act like it does. For the sake of yourself.

You get off the floor and walk towards the stupid novel. You've practically memorised most of the story at this point. You could almost read it by heart by now.

The person creates another them. They finally have somebody to talk to. They get into a heated fight. They separate and betray each other. Then they cry become friends again.

Reading it nearly makes you wish to see them again. Your other half. They must be outside now. Having fun. Spending time with their family. Maybe he'll let you out if you knew you were here! Maybe he'll be able to read the words.

How many times have you told yourself hope wasn't healthy. That the more you continue to wish, the more they won't come true. Just the same pain and despair and agony and vile feelings.

You look towards the walls. Once, you had hoped the scrolls in this room would hold an answer to escape. Maps of the stars, every single one. And so you plastered them across like posters, aligning and arranging every single one. Praying, wishing, hoping.

Nothing. Not a clue. Not a sign. Not the answer. Almost like a cruel joke.

And so you tore into them, scratching them like a wild animal and throwing them off the walls.

And then, soon after that, you looked towards the books on shelf. Every single of them was worthless, books from every topic, from various studies on the stars and planets, the concepts of infinity, mathematics, a textbook on pure physics. Useless, useless, useless. Not a single sentence or word even explained your situation.

And so you brought the entire shelf down. Toppling over and breaking as soon as it hit the floor.

Would it have been worse if it had been fully frozen in time? Your efforts to break it, made futile and meaningless?

You don't even want to comprehend it.

You just want to cry.

You slowly drag yourself over to the door, and slump down with your back against it.

You begin to break down into tears. Why did this happen to you? Why would the Universe forsake you in this manner? Was this your part to play in this sick world? Was this your fate, your destiny determined?

What a shitty role to be cast into.

...footsteps. Voices. From behind the door.

...it couldn't be. And yet it was.

It was them. It had to be.

But they wouldn't be able to open the door. There was no point. It was hopeless, after all.

...but maybe there's something you could after all. The very thing you're meant to do, that you promised to do.

Perk up, little star.

It's showtime.

[rwbyrg]

What Inspired the Fairytale: Warrior in the Woods as a Rosegarden Allusion

I've broken down Ruby as Little Red Riding Hood, and Oscar as the Little Prince, now I want to analyze the two of them within a canon fable. The very first story within RWBY: Fairytales of Remnant: The Warrior in the Woods.

For those who are unfamiliar with it, I will summarize, or you can read it in the official free preview of the book here. One disclaimer before I get started: I'm not speaking about the animated adaptation here. Something Oz mentions in his fore/afterward of the book is that fairytales often shift and change depending on who it is that's telling the story. The book itself seems to aim to tell the most objective version as possible, whereas in the episode of FToR, it's very clear Tai's experiences and biases greatly influences the way he tells the story. With that out of the way...

The story is about a boy who lives in a village surrounded by a forest that is said to protect its residents from Grimm. One day, the boy ventures into the wood further than anyone would think to look for him. There he is attacked by a monster, the first he has ever seen... Only to be saved at the last minute by a cloaked warrior carrying a curved weapon. He thanks her and asks for her name, but she tells him to leave and not return. He doesn't listen. Every year since the day of their first meeting, he ventures further into the wood hoping he will meet his saviour again. And every time, he is proven right when she shows up and saves him at the last minute. Each year, the boy grows older and wiser, training himself how to fight, bringing the woman gifts as thanks for protecting the village alone and without appreciation all these years. Until one day, the village is attacked by Grimm for the first time in ages. On their next planned meeting, the boy - now a man - fights his entire way through the forest to the hut where she lives, and finds it torn apart and empty. He returns home and tells the villagers her story having taken up the mantle of protecting his people in her place. When asked if he kept going back to see her just because she saved him, he replies (paraphrased): "For that reason, and many more. But I believe she knew the deepest reason of all. I fell in love with her the moment I saw her silver eyes."

Even the summary alone paints a picture very reminiscent of Ruby and Oscar's paired arc throughout the show thus far, but I want to break it down even further. First things first:

The Warrior

She is described as "a fair woman in a flowing (threadbare and tattered) black cape" with a "curved blade" she can spin so quickly it "blurs". Her hair is "almost as dark as the Grimm's, white (ones) standing out as brightly as bone", and in the boy's eyes the first time he sees her, remarks that she is "beautiful and fierce". We know by the end of the story, as well as one of the Grimm fights, that she has silver eyes as well and she tells the boy at one point that she fights alone because she is alone, since all the people like her were killed by other humans. This lines up well with how Silver Eyed Warriors have been hunted by Salem and her forces for generations.

When we compare this to Ruby when Oscar first meets her, it hits all the same marks. He is captivated by her silver eyes the moment he first meets her:

She is fair skinned with black hair (if you include the books illustrations, with a reddish tint), has silver eyes, and a torn and tattered cloak.

There is a point at which the woman also ties a red ribbon around her weapon's handle to hold it in place, which immediately acts as a tie in to Ruby's colour scheme.

Lastly, the boy meets the warrior for the first time in a "moonlit clearing". And we all know how much moon imagery Ruby has associated with her by now, that I really don't have to go over it again.

The Village Boy

There are no photos or descriptions of him within the text, just that he is a boy when we first meet him and is a man by the end of the story after visiting the woman annually 4-5 times. So he is roughly 14, aka the same age as Oscar, for both their first appearances.

What we do know about the boy, is shown in the objects he carries for himself and the gifts he imparts onto the woman in the woods.

The first is a parcel of clothing. It includes some blouses, leggings, a black skirt, some boots... and a new hooded green cloak. Ruby's cloak is red, but as we know both in show with ships like Bumbleby, and thanks to Eddy's bit of trivia in that Reddit AMA a while ago, that wearing the colours of people you care for is a common sign of affection within Remnant. Within this story, the woman dons a cloak in a green colour (something heavily associated with Oscar Pine), whereas within RWBY in V6, it is Oscar who dons Ruby's colour on his shoulders in his outfit upgrade.

The second is the sword the boy forges for himself before their third meeting. It is described as long and thin which immediately calls to mind The Long Memory.

From there, the next gift: a bag full of food.

"She opened the bag and pulled out parcel after parcel. There was honey cake, a strawberry tart, and sweet biscuits. When she unwrapped a stack of fresh-baked cookies, her expression lightened, and her happiness made him happy."

The first bolded example: strawberries are cited by Monty as Ruby's favourite food, and as we know by Ruby's first meeting with Ozpin (which is important given his connection to Oscar), she's a big fan of cookies too.

Now that all the aesthetics and symbolism are out of the way, I want to compare the structure of the two stories.

Separation and Reunions

The Warrior in the Woods, as well as Ruby and Oscar's arc throughout the show (as well as The Little Prince) are stories of absences.

The boy starts his tale without the woman in his live for many years before he meets her. When they do meet, it is for only a moment within a day until they must wait another full year before seeing each other again. When they do meet, at least the first 3 times, the warrior saves him from Grimm attacks. Then, at the 4th time, he runs into no obstacles and is able to sit and talk with her without incident, only for her to disappear shortly before their 5th visit, leaving him to take up her job of protecting the village.

Ruby spends the first 4 volumes of the show not knowing Oscar, but when they meet he, just like the village boy, is in awe of her silver eyes. From there, she saves him from Grimm twice (I imagine we are holding out on the third where she saves him with her silver eyes for a volume we haven't received yet)...

...and they are faced with constant separations and reunions thereafter.

Oscar goes missing in V6E8 only to be reunited with everyone in V6E9...

2. They are separated for much of V7 due to disagreements and other external circumstance, only to reunite and make up in V7E9...

3. They are then immediately split up again, one going down to Mantle and the other staying in Atlas, only to reunited at the beginning of V8E1 (suspiciously after Oscar stares into a fire much like the boy at the end of the story).

4. It is short lived before they split up on different teams AGAIN, which leads to another reunion in V8E10...

5. Only to - you guess it - be separated one more time when Ruby falls into a void, leaving Oscar to think that she died and take charge as the new leader carrying her responsibilities in her place.

Which follows the structure of the original fairytale - at least in numbers - down to the letter.

Beyond that structure, there is also the matter of what both relationships are built upon: the act of taking care of one another.

In the book, the woman explains that she protects the villagers "because she can, because no one else will, and because some people are good, like the village boy, and that gives her hope".

This heavy responsibility the warrior carries is very reminiscent of Ruby's character arc. A leader who feels she can't be a failure, who can't rely on her friends and teammates to share how much this all weighs on her, someone that lost all her silver eyed family and fears for her own fate because of a trait she had no control over. Even going so far as to try and push people away for fear they will end up hurt because of her. Someone that "remembers all the people she saved, and all the ones she didn't".

This is juxtaposed by a boy who was sheltered and safe, far from the dangers of the world, but set out and joined hers anyway. And when he did, he brought her new clothes, a new weapon, some food, and an ear she could tell her stories to. When he explains his motives, he says:

"You've spent all these years looking after us. I thought maybe it would be nice if someone looked after you for a change. Because that's what I can do. Because no one else will."

Which ties into Oscar's character exactly as well. After his conversation with Ruby in V5 about how scary all of this is, his first thought after saying she's amazing, is to acknowledge how hard this must be on her. And from then on out we see him looking after her to the best of his ability, despite his inexperience, time and time again. Protecting her when she's hurt, standing up for her when their friends fight, and baking her a casserole after she's had a tough day.

All of these things tie into what Ozpin cites as the main message of the fairytale in his notes at the end of its chapter:

It is often used as a cautionary tale, intended to discourage children from wandering too far from home on their own, or from relying too much on others to save them. But the most enduring, and I think the most inspiring, aspect of this story is one which many have taken to heart: If you can help others, it is your responsibility to do so. Whether that means fighting evil singlehandedly, or baking cookies (for kindness can be as rare as silver eyes) is up to the reader to decide for themselves. From each according to their own abilities.

Ruby and Oscar are two characters driven by their responsibilities to do something about all the bad in the world, in whatever ways they are able, before they run out of time. While Ruby's main allusion is Little Red and Oscar's is the Little Prince, I think it's really inspiring to see a canon fairytale within RWBY's own universe that relates to their story so well as this one.

[acatalystrising]

After a new job, relationship, and now an upcoming move to plan for, I’m FINALLY back to writing! Here we have, at long last, chapter four of Moth to a Flame! This story has taken so many turns and I have a million ideas, so there will be more chapters to come! For now, I hope you enjoy!

Here are the links to chapters one, two, three, and five!

Minor nsfw, no other warnings.

Moth to a Flame Chapter Four

“Having trouble, mesh’la?”

Boba Fett’s deep rasp had taken a uniquely playful tone as he walked beside you, the clinking of his spurs breaking the calm silence. He watched you carefully, brow raised, a knowing look in his dark eyes - eliciting yet another furious blush as you tried to regain your balance.

You’d fallen in love before, of course. Had your doomed relationships that went nowhere, leaving you with only a broken heart in their wake. But this? Stars, you’d never had a person make you feel like this.

Head still spinning from the kisses in the rancor pit, you’d nearly tripped as you ascended the palace steps.

“Oh, I’m fine, just clumsy,” you managed to right yourself and smirk at your own expense, “wouldn’t be the first time I’ve tripped on my own two feet.”

But it’s the first time I’ve fallen this hard…

You almost said it. Almost voiced the roaring thoughts in your head, but they were locked behind your lips - past experiences and fears strong enough to curb your tongue.

“Then we’ll use precaution,” Boba extended a gauntleted arm with a smooth flourish as he walked beside you. “Allow me.”

“Such a gentlemen,” you placed your hand on his arm and he chuckled, the sound warming your chest and making you weak-kneed all over again.

You snuck a glance at him as you both passed a set of windows, the moonlight filtering through the hewn stone, illuminating the pathway beyond. Your jaw nearly dropped when you saw his green armor glinting in the pale lighting, which cast a silvery sheen onto his eyes and skin. Maker, he was gorgeous. His broad frame overshadowed yours, study and resolute - the build of a warrior. Every scar, every muscle spoke of a life spent as a vicious bounty hunter, someone many still feared. This once again served as a reminder of the danger he posed - not merely for the weapons he carried, but for the weapon he was.

And yet, he was gentle with you.

“Like what you’re seeing?” His voice was soft, softer than you’d expected for someone of his reputation, and you frowned, noting a hesitation there.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d suspect that Boba Fett, of all people, doubted his worth. For all the power, grace, and confident charm he exuded, you suspected there were many wounds hiding behind those honeyed brown eyes.

“Always,” you gripped his arm tighter as if that alone could reassure him, to help him see the truth you were discovering. “How could I not?”

The beskar was cool to the touch - but it didn’t frighten you. Relief, not dread, washed through you as your fingers ghosted over chips in the paint. You felt grateful for the armor that kept him safe, helped him stay alive all those years to be here, now…with you.

He hummed, brows furrowed in thought. For a moment, he seemed so far away - mind lost in the spiraling galaxy above. You didn’t know what dwelled in that mind, but stars, you wanted to learn, to dive deep into vastness that was as wide as space itself. Wanted to help him see he wasn’t alone, as he’d shown you.

“Thank you…for everything.” You finally spoke, voice equally soft, and he regarded you with a gentle stoicism you now understood to be rapt attention. “I’m not…used to this. I’ve done what I can to care for the animals, my friends…but I’m just…me. I’ve never caught the attention of anyone important.”

His dark brow flicked up as he silently helped you up the next flight of steps, lips set firmly as he guided you through his palace. It was ironic, that after all these years of fearing the likes of Jabba the Hutt and Bib Fortuna, you found yourself exploring the halls of their former home with the new Daimyo. Someone who, unlike them, was fair and just - walking beside you in thoughtful silence.

It was a peaceful quiet, really.

Contemplative, even. In truth, you didn’t mind - it was comforting in the way a mountain would assuredly always stand. The way the stars shone in the sky, lighting your path home in the dark. True as the suns and moons that blazed above in celestial wonder. Boba Fett was only a man, you knew - but he felt like something eternal.

“You intrigued me the day we met.” When he finally spoke, he was achingly somber, those dark brows furrowed in thought as he led you down an adjacent hallway. “I’ve been alone for…a long time. Didn’t think that would ever change. Took weeks for Fennec to convince me to return.”

Weeks? You found it difficult to picture this big, broad bounty hunter being afraid of anything - much less your rejection.

“Stars Boba, I’m not scary. Sure, I was frightened at first when you stopped by,” you shrugged with a small grin, meeting his waiting gaze. “Think about it - the most renowned bounty hunter, now our Daimyo, back from the dead, walking into my clinic.”

“Didn’t wish to frighten you.” He looked away, fumbling with the helmet tucked at his side as if looking for a means of escape.

You noted the rigid posture, the squared shoulders, the armor that went much deeper than beskar draped over his heart. A heart that, despite all the things he’d done, the blood he’d spilled, had always been something soft…something wanting love. It broke you, to see it - a soul so akin to your own despite your vastly different experiences. Perhaps you weren’t the only one who bore inner scars still mending.

“Boba.” You stopped, waiting for him to do the same, softening your voice the way you would for a pacing, caged animal. You didn’t see him that way, of course, but you recognized when someone felt trapped.

He paused, shifting on his heels to face you, expression guarded, a great weight lingering in his eyes. And damn it all, those eyes were an ocean, one you’d willingly drown in. There was a wisdom there, beyond his years, a depth of pain that spoke of decades of trauma and loneliness. Stars, you wanted nothing more in than moment than to love him so fiercely, so wholly, he could set it all aside - if even for a moment.

Maker, what all had this devastatingly beautiful, broken man endured?

“I’m not afraid. In fact, you’ve captured my heart, I think.” You dared to speak your mind, smiling nervously as you forced yourself to continue. “You have since you first set foot in my clinic.”

Boba’s eyes locked onto you, gleaming in the moonlight, and you swore to the stars you saw hope.

“The feeling,” his lips curved in a fond, yet sad, smile - watching you with such intensity you felt his gaze bore into your very soul. “Is mutual.”

You could only nod, so moved by the dualities of his gentleness and strength as he resumed leading you down a hall you recognized, the one that led to the dining room.

The truth was, you’d been alone for so long.

His words both warmed your heart and left an ache lingering in your chest. In your experience, good things didn’t last. You’d lost much in your life, and you couldn’t help but wonder…would you lose this, too?

“You’re quiet,” Boba’s voice rumbled through you as he led you into the dining room. “Something wrong?”

You blinked, realizing you felt so comfortable with him that you had slipped deep into your thoughts. Whether he knew it or not, he’d proven to be safe enough for you to lower your guard - and that didn’t happen with many.

“No,” you regarded him with a smile, finding him watching you with rapt attentiveness. Once again, the hunter in him was too keen - something you were still adjusting to…but he deserved the truth. “I don’t…have much of a family. You’ve been so kind, and I enjoy your company, I just don’t want it all to…”

Silence fell as the words cut off in your throat, as if held by back an invisible fist around your neck.

He led you to the vast spread of food, pulling out a chair for you in silence. He sat at the head of the table beside you, graciously waiting for you to gather your thoughts. You didn’t want to admit it - admit that you were afraid. Not of him anymore, no, but of losing him. That mental shift had happened quickly - very quickly, you might add - and it forced you to face the real question at hand. Stars, had you already fallen in love with Boba Fett?

“Look at me, sweet girl.”

Boba’s voice was soft, rumbling through you like a caress, prompting you to meet his gaze. You found a raw adoration in those amber shot eyes, so intense it left you breathless.

“There’s no hidden motive,” he placed a hand over yours, gloved fingertips lightly caressing your knuckles. “We’ll take things however slow, or at whatever pace, that you wish.”

You nodded, and his lips curled in an easy smile that made your heart race, but his gaze still held a note of seriousness that commanded your attention.

“I’ve no intentions of walking away,” he raised a brow, moving to lift his hand from yours. “Unless you ask me to.”

You mourned the loss of his touch and fought the urge to lean forward and take his hand back in yours, heartbeat still pounding in your ears as you shook your head.

“I’d never ask that,” you smiled, fears melting away. His mere presence did that - cutting away the darkness in your mind. “So I suppose you’re stuck with me, my Daimyo.”

“With a beauty such as you?” He lifted a cup in his big hand and raised it to his lips with a devilish smirk, voice impossibly husky. “If I’d ever be so lucky.”

You watched him drink, eyes locked on you, and couldn’t help but squirm under his gaze. It was intense, to feel so captured, and yet so at home.

“Please, eat,” he gestured at the spread of food, armor glinting in the firelight. “Look like a princess in that dress.”

Heat blossomed on your cheeks as you raised one of the cups to your lips, the wine smooth and sweet on your tongue.

-

You weren’t sure if it was the alcohol, the food, his close proximity, or all three - but you felt nearly euphoric as you and Boba conversed well into the night.

It quickly became apparent that he was brilliant…more brains then you’d expected from a man with his brawn. Stoic and direct, but with a surprisingly dry, humorous side - he never missed an opportunity to compliment you, his smirks and light touches sending you spiraling deeper and deeper into an abyss that you never wanted to escape.

“I’m still curious about the nexu,” Boba crossed his broad arms, leaning back into his chair, brow slightly raised as he regarded you with a small, crooked smile. “What do you plan to do with her once she’s older?”

“They’re native to thick jungles and heavily forested areas, but adapt well to new environments.” You took another sip of your wine and shifted in your seat, suddenly wishing he was closer, that he’d kiss you again. “I’m hoping to train her, and eventually build her a nice, big enclosure.”

“Tell me if you need assistance,” he set down his fork and wiped his bare fingers clean with a napkin, and a very, very traitorous part of you watched those thick, yet nimble digits with another blush. “The animals deserve good lives.”

Think about the topic. Think about your nexu. Don’t let your mind wander… you swallowed, nodding, glancing away and taking another gulp of wine. Gods, you were in trouble. Kriff, kriff, kriff, he’s so attractive. I just want to…

“I…thank you,” cheeks burning, you shifted again to press your thighs together in a sad attempt to alleviate the ache in your core, and his gaze flitted over you like a caress - those dark, beautiful eyes flecked with gold locking on you with intense focus.

Damn it all, of course he’d notice. He was a bounty hunter, the best bounty hunter - he knew how to observe people. And right now, you were hopelessly tipsy bordering on drunk, and he was reading you like a book.

“You seem distracted…something the matter?” He quirked a brow, the corner of his lip curved in a sly smirk. “You can tell me, mesh’la.”

Oh gods, the man was toying with you. You’d willingly walked right into the hunter’s snare…and he knew it. He had you right where he wanted you, and you couldn’t have been happier.

“Oh, I…I’m fine,” heat crawled over your ears, and you knew you were blushing, dipping your head down to take another sip of your wine, the potent wine loosening your tongue. “You’re just…so beautiful. That’s all.”

Boba fell silent, and for a moment you worried you’d offended him. You anxiously glanced back up, only to find his trademark scowl replaced by a uniquely shocked expression.

“You mean that?” His tone was gruff, brows lowering with confusion, he gestured at his face with a shrug. “Even though I’m…this scarred?”

Oh maker, you wanted to hug him. Kiss him senseless and show him just how attractive you thought he was.

“Of course I do,” you leaned forward, subtly scooting your chair closer to his, heartbeat pounding like a drum. “What a silly thing to say. Scars don’t make people ugly, they’re signs of survival. Marks of honor. And yours make you stunning.”

The sound that emitted from deep in Boba Fett’s chest was the closest thing to a strained groan you’d ever heard him make. And gods, it nearly sent you spiraling. You shifted closer to the edge of your seat, breath snagging in your throat when he scooted his chair back and regarded you, head tilted to the side, legs spread, fingers steadily tapping the armrest as if he were on his throne. If you hadn’t already been blushing, your face was assuredly as red as the suns when he shifted his hand and patted his muscled thigh, voice a beckoning purr.

“Come here, little one. Take a seat.”

Oh. Good. Gods.

How the kriff were you even supposed to move? And yet you stood before your speeding thoughts could process the actions, moving on wobbly legs to stop before him.

He regarded you with a stern expression, save for the glimmer of a smile in his eyes, a subtle softness which prompted you to sit on his thigh. A strong arm curled around you, hand resting comfortably at your hip, holding you securely against him even as a chuckle rumbled from his chest, sending more heat curling to your core.

“You’re the beautiful one. So perfect.” He lifted a hand to caress your jaw, touches feather light as he explored your skin. “This okay?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, voice hoarse, heart pounding so loud you wondered if it would burst. “You, you’re…”

“I’m what, princess?” He shifted, and your cheeks burned when you felt his hardened arousal solid like durasteel beneath you. “Remember what I told you earlier, sweet flower - use your words.”

You nodded, daring to lean further against his chest, closing the remaining distance between you, the contradictory coolness of the beskar and warmth of his body oddly comforting. Kriff, the things you’d only do with Boba.

“You’re…unlike anyone I’ve met before.” You took a breath, trying your best to gather your thoughts as his fingers traced circles over your skin, nearly sending your poor brain into a mad spiral. “You make me feel safe.”

He nodded, a certain pride shining in his eyes at that, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to your pulse point. He lifted a hand to your face, fingers caressing your bottom lip, hesitating. You dared to flick out your tongue over his finger, and he growled, dropping his hand to your chin and guiding you into another kiss with more rumbled praise.

“Good girl.”

You whimpered against him, you couldn’t help it, core clenching around nothing even as heat pooled between your legs. Just the fact of knowing that he was so close, that he was affected by you too, made your thoughts blur until you no longer knew what end was up. And yet he was so, so strong, holding you as he deepened the kiss. Protective, ensuring you wouldn’t fall. Respectful, always waiting for you to take the next step.

“Liked that, hmm?” Boba drug his lips along your cheek, warm breath washing over your skin. “Tell me if I should stop.”

“Please don’t,” your voice was nearly breathless as you tried to string your words together. “Please…”

He hummed, kissing your neck, then your jawline, dragging his lips up to capture yours. You leaned into him, deepening the kiss, shifting so you were straddling his lap. He grunted, pressing a hand to the small of your back, guiding your hips in a slow grind.

It had admittedly been a while since you’d been with someone. And there’d been a reason…a reason you’d elected to ignore for the moment. Trauma be damned - you wanted this with Boba, wanted him. So you ignored the flare of panic spiking in your chest like an errant flame.

This was Boba. He was safe.

He wanted you to feel protected, even now.

So you moved with him like you imagined water would flow, following his movements, letting him guide you. You ground against his length, eliciting a deep groan from the Daimyo, and dared to press kisses along his powerful jawline and down his neck. His own kisses were all encompassing, demanding, yet soft as you explored him, slowly lowering a wandering hand to his pants.

“Mesh’la,” Boba’s voice was impossibly gruff, yet direct enough to get your attention. You stopped your advancements, looking up at him with a frown. “You’re drunk. Don’t wanna make you do anything you’ll regret.”

“You’re not…I want this,” you pressed a kiss to the corner of his lip, anxiety worming it’s way into your chest. “Unless you don’t…”

Boba wrapped both of his arms around you and held you flush with his armored chest, amber gaze dark, locked on you.

“I want you, ad’ika.” He caressed your cheek with the back of his hand, the light touch sending a shiver down your spine. “Been a bit since I’ve been with someone. Wanna do it right.”

Heat flared in your cheeks and you looked away, swallowing hard, head still spinning.

“Yeah…it’s been some time for me, too.”

Boba’s fingers found your chin, gently lifting your face to meet his. As always, he bore his trademark sternness, brows lowered, gaze intense, as he seemed to observe you from a new lens.

“Your former partners…they didn’t care about you.” He spoke gently despite the severity of his expression, thumb gently caressing your throat, a reminder that there was no judgement - no shame.

And it hadn’t been posed as a question.

“Well,” you sighed, a weight in your chest resurfacing and threatening to pull you under. “No…”

He nodded, lips pursed in thought, thumb still stroking your neck.

“You deserve better,” he finally gave you a warm smile, a softness you hadn’t expected dancing in his eyes. “When the time comes, if you’ll have me, I’ll ensure you’re never left wanting again.”

Stars, his gentleness and caring words nearly made you want to cry. You managed to nod, still too overcome by the influx of emotions to speak. He gently rubbed your back, and you curled against him, held securely in his arms.

“We’re all fighting our pasts,” he kept his voice low, soft, soothing - similar to the way you’d been with him earlier. “We can learn to heal together.”

You nodded, tucking your chin against his neck, and closing your eyes with a soft sigh. He held you close in a comfortable silence, as if he understood more than you’d expected.

Every single day, you’d fought. Endured, to be strong. Struggled for everything you had, for the name you’d made for yourself and your clinic. Sacrificed so much for the animals you loved. And for the most part, you’d done it all alone. But now…perhaps you didn’t have to.

“I…” you finally spoke, albeit hesitantly - stars, how were you supposed to explain trauma? “Thank you…”

“Should be thanking you for giving an old bounty hunter a chance,” he held you close, resting his chin over your head in a gesture you swore was protective. “You’ve had a lot to drink. If you want that, let’s wait for a special occasion, hmm?”

“Okay.” You gripped his arm tighter, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. “Because I do want that. With you. I just…have my own demons to face.”

“We’ll face them together,” he ran a hand through your hair with a gentle caress.

You nodded, snuggling against him, a heaviness settling in your bones as exhaustion slowly took you over.

“C’mon little one, let’s get you home.” Boba’s voice rumbled sweetly through you, and you nodded, letting him gather you in his embrace.

-

By the time you made it back to the clinic, Boba helped you upstairs to your rooms, a hand at your back, ensuring you wouldn’t fall.

You were too tired to worry about the presentability of your home, letting him guide you to your bed without a single fleeting concern. Once you were nestled under your covers, he stood at your bedside like some kind of green armored guardian angel, a softness in his gaze that contradicted his powerful physique.

“Boba…” you wearily reached for him, words starting to slur. Damn, you were drunk. And exhausted. But for the first time in a while, you felt happy.

“What is it?” He raised a brow at you, gently taking your hand in his.

“Please…stay? Just…wanna be close.” You held onto his hand as tightly as you could. “You make me feel safe. Please?”

He was silent for a moment, and just as you began to worry he’d refuse, he reached up and fiddled with one of his pauldrons, removing the piece of armor with practiced ease. You watched him remove that legendary beskar that kept him safe, that marked his identity, all too aware of the implied trust in the moment.

The bed depressed with his weight as he joined you under the covers, clad in his undershirt and pants. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close to his chest, thundering heartbeat melodious to your ears.

“This okay?” His voice was soft, so achingly gentle it made you want to kiss him again.

“It’s perfect,” you twined your legs with his, feeling so warm and protected, your anxieties melting away. “Thank you.”

He hummed a response, a hand carding through your hair, lulling you to sleep.

“Goodnight, mesh’la.” His voice was gentle, soothing, as your consciousness faded to black. “You’re safe with me.”

[theonevoice]

Sorry if this is a little foggy and poorly worded, but I have been sitting on this thought all day, after working on a scene from Mamoru Hosoda's Wolf Children, and might as well put it here. The scene in question is the one where little wolf-boy Ame, sweet child who loves stories and picture books and who struggles to come to terms with his hybrid identity, one day while out in the woods with his sister and his mother on a sort of wolf-training excursion suddenly starts crying. And the reason why is crying is that, in all the picture books, he keeps seeing the wolf depicted as the bad guy that ends up shooed away or killed. And because of such representations, now he wants to repress his wolf identity, that has always been a lively and funny, although hard to figure out, part of his life. He is terrified of being what he is because the narrow representations that he has access to tell him that the world does not like people like him. It's a powerful little moment in a beautiful movie, that always makes me tear up, and if you missed it I highly recommend you watch it. If you are not into anime movie and just curious of the scene, I found a clip on YouTube:

Anyway, this scene made my lonely braincel twitch, and I was thinking, now that we are approaching the end of this glorious - as far as the mediascape is concerned - year 2023, that many people underestimate the enormous power of fantasy narratives in expanding the borders of gender (and minority in general) representation. Having an author canonically establish that certain fixed categories do not apply to one or more characters for in-universe reasons takes away that nasty oblique excuse that some people use to deny and disparage diversity in media (where I live they usually sound like "they only made this character a person of color to please the woke liberalsTM even if the historical context doesn't allow it", or even, comically, "it is narratively implausible that this character is or shows to be queer but they were forced to do it by THE GAY LOBBY" - yes, this is an actual conspiracy theory loudly promoted by Italian journalists and politicians, and yes, I am personally deeply ashamed by it). Obviously, almost none of said people has the faintest actual interest in narrative aspects, but they still use the excuse to pollute the public discourse and attack minorities. And I am aware that there is a possible dark pitfall here: in the best possible world, we should not need to take the route of fantasy settings to have something that should never have been denied in the first place, but from a pragmatical standpoint it does work. Having authors saying "nope, sorry not sorry, they are wolf-children / angels and demons / weird vampires / anachronistic pirates in a fantasy context so your self-proclaimed laws of plausibility do not apply and you can shove them where the sun does not shine while we enjoy the show and put this beautiful, funny, delicate, deep and sad things on screen", is like having a cultural picklock which is also a cultural battering ram thrusting the representation-door open. Shows like Good Omens, Our Flag Means Death, What We Do in the Shadows (and their fandoms with their massive collective creative endeavour), by offering the symbolic shield of a fantasy setting can establish a safe space where 1. queer people (especially young people but not only) can finally recognize themselves and stop feeling like they are alone and don't have the words and images they need to describe themselves; 2. not queer people can get used to a larger set of possible identities and not only realise that 100% of said idenities are in fact - hold on to your butts - still people with thoughts and feelings and needs, but also, through the power of mimesis, acquire a deeper understanding of forms of life that they don't directly experience. Including, hopefully, understanding how similar we all are when it comes to us being ultimately a bunch of naked apes who walk on this spinning rock trying to be as little miserable as possible.

Again, sorry if this sounds clumsy and blunt, given how delicate and complex this subject is (one does not simply walk into Mordor talk about the lives and needs of other people like that), but I had this thought stuck in my shallow brain wrinkles and I wanted to try and put it into words.

[deathmetalunicorn1]

If you could choose three of the ROR characters to get Spin Offs, who would you choose and what would their stories be about?

Ooh this one got my brain going into overdrive!

Sticking with the theme of the other spin offs, for the moment, I'll make it a bit difficult and only choose those on the humanity side.

First, I would like to see one for Michel Nostradamus, we've already met him in the manga, and we don't know too much, but we've learned that he somehow managed (which I'm praying they touch on) to break the Bifrost. I bet that story alone is going to be bonkers, however, it would be interesting to see other chapters of his backstory. We know he's strong, as he's able to handle the gods of Helheim and escape whenever he wishes to and is the only human to be sent to Helheim, for his actions against the Bifrost.

Second, I would like to see more of Sasaki Kojiro's past in a spin off, we know that he is 'History's Greatest Loser' but from all his losses, he became the strongest. He died young, we know this, but it would be interesting to see some more of his time when he was alive, followed by tales of his adventures in Valhalla, as he said that he continued to train after his death, which led to his prime being right then and there when he fought. Unlike the others, his story would probably be mostly based in Valhalla, and it would be interesting to see the types of warriors he faces to become as strong as he is now.

Third, even though they are not humans, they are on the side of humanity, I want to see more about the different Valkyries. We have 13 different characters here, all of them different from each other and I feel like we need more than just the little bit we get to see in the anime and manga. I feel like these characters can have backstories and maybe even just fluff stories with how they go about their normal days, like what do they do for jobs, if they have any, how to they interact with other gods and humans. I just want to see and know more about these characters.

Fourth only for my own selfish reasons because I wanted them to live, Raiden and Thrud!! They were so stinking cute!! I wanted more of their adorable romance! I wanted to see them get married and have so many babies that they would rival Big Mom's family in One Piece!! Let me have my romance with the adorable giant beefy woman and her shorter but still beefy husband!!!!!!!!!

[felixmoonstar]

Hii, good night everyone, im here once again to show you another bit of my art, i think i may start to post weekly so if you are interested ill probably post again every week in a time between tuesday and friday, cant say with precision as i have some art blocks sometimes like everybody, but anyways, ill leave a song that i think that matches my text, explain why i choosed that specific song and also leave my inspirations, also as always im open to constructive criticism, so, enjoy^^

The Limbo forest.

I woke up in the middle of the forest in the dark, a limbo so deep that the only reason I could know I was in a forest was the branches hitting my face, as neither the sun, moon, nor star was visible in this pitch black. Just darkness and constant slaps from the branches, other than that, I couldn't know anything else close to me. At first, I was terrified by the lack of vision, the fear of the unknown, of what would happen soon, fear of not knowing, but after a few hours without having an idea of ​​what was happening, I ended up getting used to it and my anxiety decreased considerably. Before I could calm down, I walked the whole time, getting slapped by branches, getting scared by the noises I made when I stepped on fallen branches that I couldn't see, falling head-on into several trees, and all kinds of general things that I couldn't see. could happen if I was in a dark room, there was just one problem: unlike a room, I wouldn't just have to worry about pieces of lego or banging my finger on the corner of a table, here I was constantly taken by my surroundings, which in addition to increasing my anxiety and pain, it also increased my hatred for this place and my miserable condition, so after a few hours of emotions dominating my mind, rationality returned and I started to ask myself "if I'm in a forest, where are the animals ? Is this place so shit that no animal has managed to adapt to it? ... the biggest problem seems to be the lack of light, but many animals can see in the dark..." then I looked at the sky again, and to surprise of anyone, there wasn't even a celestial body in the sky yet, and I only realized that now. *just now. In addition to being naturally desperate, I was even more confused for not having realized this before, and I wondered what else I was missing. Thinking about losses, I started thinking about what I was missing by being here, precious time with friends? A meal? A robbery? I would never know, and I didn't even want to think about it much to preserve my remaining mental health. After reflecting for a few hours sitting and crying, I started to recover myself and started walking again, and to my surprise, I found what I assumed was an exit, a distant remnant of light, so I didn't waste any time and simply ran in that direction, to my happiness and surprise, in fact it was the world that I knew, the sun was in the sky and I didn't understand how this was possible, but I didn't even try to find out why, not for now at least, I just reflected on what could be found in that "forest" in which I found it.

So, first of, i choose "introduction to the snow" as the best music for that piece of writting because one, i love Tally Hall and miracle musical is bassicaly a Tally Hall spin off, and second, i thought it gave a nice feeling of not knowing about where you are, and i feel a strange when listening to this music, i love this music but it give me a weird feeling in a good way, plus, "alone at the edge of the universe" Is bassically what i wanted to describe when writting this.

Now, what was my inspiration? When writting this, i was feeling completly hopeless and that was like a vent to me, so whats writted is how i was feeling at the moment, i enjoy putting my emotions in my writting, then feeling overwhelmed is for me, something that makes the process way easier.

Long story short, thats one of part of my art, one that im really proud about and that like all my other art, is full of myself in it.

[gamersonthego]

GOTG Review: The Last Guardian

This is the second game in my Backlog Roulette series, where each month I spin a wheel to randomly select a game on my massive backlog that I must play (though not necessarily to completion). These wheel spins occur on the monthly preview episodes I co-host with my friends on The Casual Hour podcast.

I’m trying to remember the last time I felt genuine emotion for a character in a video game. Fire Emblem comes to mind. It is my favorite franchise after all. The idea of building up a roster of characters from zeroes to heroes. I celebrate their wins. I’m pained by their losses. But they don’t feel real. When one goes down, I mourn the loss of their utility more than I do the loss of their character.

I may not feel genuine emotion for Lapis as a character, but I sure do love when she does this.

Pokemon has a similar issue. I watch these monsters grow up and evolve over the course of my journey, my six faithful companions helping me take on the world. But the artifice never fully falls away. I see their “health points” and their mechanical abilities and am reminded these are still just bundles of data, and if I think about the numbers long enough, I can game them just right to always land in my favor. The closest I’ve felt to a critter in Pokemon is in the most recent entries, where Game Freak added in a chance to “hang on” with 1HP left after a devastating enemy move if your Pokemon’s friendship stat was high enough. It’s cool to see a Pokemon break the rules of the game through the power of love, but it also happens too often and too randomly for it to feel authentic.

Cliche as it might be, that last time that genuine feeling occurred might be Team Ico’s previous game, Shadow of the Colossus. Agro, your character’s horse was a constant and stalwart ally. Yes, it was mechanical in its own way, but in a game built around solitude, having this one thing on your side was a comfort, one that made the mostly empty world a little less lonely. And while Shadow of the Colossus plays on this attachment in a few key moments, Team Ico’s third game, The Last Guardian, is built entirely in service of this interaction. 

Reductively put, The Last Guardian is the video game embodiment of “a boy and his dog.” You control a nameless boy, waking up in a prison of a cave. But you are not alone. There is a creature locked in here with you — a massive griffin-like animal. Chained, injured and afraid, it lashes out whenever you come near. This is Trico, and while you might not know it yet, this monster is going to become your best friend. 

Trico is the whole reason The Last Guardian works. His appearance may be fantastical, but his movements, his mannerisms, his stubbornness — they are familiar. You look at Trico, and you know he’s made up of polygons and AI "if/then" statements, but that artifice just melts away, expertly hidden by characteristics that are innately animalistic. Trico barks at things he doesn’t understand. He looks at you in confusion as you try to coax him to move. He paws at his food. He stretches his legs after escaping cramped quarters. He shakes the water off him when he comes out of water and then he preens his feathers. It’s magic. And the developers are able to keep up this trick throughout the entire 12-hour experience. 

How could you not love this goofball?

The game around it however, can leave something to be desired: An awkward camera that’s both rigid and yet has a mind of its own, scenarios that go back to the well a few too many times (I can’t tell you how often my character blacked out due to story reasons, only to be woken up in a new area by a rescuing Trico) and world design that, while undeniably beautiful, is often confusing and repetitive. 

But while those things can (and will) frustrate you, they can’t stop the emotion you feel for Trico. Never have I spoken so much to a TV during a playthrough, using the same tone as I would with my own pet. “That’s right, just a bit further. You can do it.” “No, not that way, Trico.” “Oh, you’re hungry now?” “There, there, the bad guys are gone. Nothing to be afraid of.” I caught myself saying these little phrases often, then laughing at how the game had fooled me yet again that Trico was a living, breathing thing.  

The Last Guardian definitely has its moments of intentional heartstring-pulling — big set pieces and scripted events with you or Trico put in a tight spot just to miraculously have the other save them at the most critical of times. And those moments do often land with their intended impact. But it’s the quiet moments that give Trico, and The Last Guardian by extension, its heartbeat. 

I have played and will play hundreds of games that are “better” than The Last Guardian. Games with sharper controls, more layered stories, nicer graphics, smoother framerates and less obnoxious  puzzles. But few games will leave the impression The Last Guardian has. Because despite its flaws (and perhaps, even thanks to them), The Last Guardian made me feel something in a way that most games can't. 

[autumnslance]

Shadowbringers felt like a lot of threads from previous expansions finally coming to a head; I think they should have made Crystal Tower required from the start, but it pulls in from multiple raid stories as well as the Ascians after a much-needed expansion rest in Stormblood, and brought back Minfilia and the Warriors of Darkness. Lots of threads.

Lots of Ishikawa taking her plotlines and characters and putting them center stage, after creating many and having other writers kill them off or turn them into something else, so I can't entirely blame her. And there is definitely a shift in how the story is told.

Stakes are high, and while there is death--tragic and horrific at times--it's not the only way to raise the stakes, or to draw out player emotions. The Scions get far more screen time than previously thanks to Trusts, finally feeling like your actual Final Fantasy party members in other games.

And boy are Thancred's years-long mental health, emotional turbulence, and interpersonal issues on display. His and Ryne's relationship is fraught and difficult; if Shadowbringers was a tragedy, the trolley duty would have turned out much differently. But this is, despite all the darkness, a story of hope, and as a hero character, Thancred does what Ran'jit and Emet-Selch can't--puts the past behind him, makes peace with that, and becomes a better man for his daughter's sake.

(It was still a rough and weird time to be a Thancred fan, though. And I've taken to copying and annotating their textual interactions, cuz it's often not as horrible as folks think, or we're listening to one perspective and their assumptions at a time, but it's still so hard to navigate, and too close to many real life difficult relationships.)

The others don't get quite the development this go-round, but we see the culmination of Alphinaud's from the spoiled brat we met in ARR to his reactions to Vauthry and dedication to Eulmore here. Urianger finally shows his face (and dem guns!) and has his moments, using his capacity for subterfuge to move the plot along from the background again (exasperating Y'shtola the whole while).

There is a lot of build and the idea that finally unified as a team, the Scions are nigh unstoppable...until Mt Gulg. The Disc 2 villain's defeat leading to the Actual Final Boss is very classic FF, and the beats hit well, because the set up of the previous 8 levels works to build to it. It's not just spinning wheels, it leads into why the Tempest and that final trial with Hades hits so well on all levels. I wondered how they planned to top it. Especially since Emet-Selch raised the bar so far as sympathetic while still horrific frenemy antagonists go. Excellent animations, voice work, and storytelling combine to make one of the more memorable characters in the franchise.

(Even my WoW-playing roommate, who learns anything FF14 against her will, knows him as "that skunk striped villain everyone's in love with.")

The patches are a bit of a mess. Elidibus needed a little more grounding and work to make his slip out of control and into immediate threat land, and the Scions really didn't know what to do with him for 2 whole patches. But the solo duty in Amaurot was good, and Seat of Sacrifice is still an amazing trial in all ways; we get the long-anticipated "Warrior of Light" battle, and the music hits (especially after learning about how and where and when Soken composed that), and the surprise cameo almost had us missing the tank LB first time through. The long denouement and goodbye tour works to tie it all up.

I miss job/class quests, but I get it; we have over 20 jobs now. They already struggled making all their quests serviceable, let alone good. Role Quests being more focused works much better (and now with duty support one can level 1 job of each to get the story and not worry about other players). The Virtue Hunters leading into another thread wrap up with the Void Quests is great...at the time; it makes the EW patch story a little weird now, honestly. I wish they weren't locked behind that much effort and content. Everyone needs to get Cyella as the midnight visitor (I think of her as the "true option" there) and experience her story as it ties so much together for our fallen fellow WoLs and Norvrandt's history, and into the 13th.

I have no problems with Eden; the story works, has a creepy villain with understandable motivations in context with the greater story, gives great world lore, pays homage to one of my first and favorite classic FFs.

Bozja was way better mechanically and how the story was parceled out than Eureka. They do the war torn battlefields well, but that means Eureka's more visually interesting. Also I maintain Bozja's areas are too big and waiting on Fates to pop for group content sucks. Still better than trying to coordinate Arsenal runs, though.

I loved the glimpses we had of the Gaius and Estinien buddy cop storyline through Garlemald. The RP duty at the end of 5.1 is really great. I'm still sad they abandoned the Shadowhunter plotline so abruptly, though, even if we handled the Unsundered.

Werlyt...I may give another chance when Iyna gets there. Taken all at once, expecting the mundane horrors of Valens' scenes, there is good stuff in that series; I think spread over patches, with the shock factor scenes, and how disjointed some of it is, and who the focal character is, led to a lot of disgruntlement. I do still think the WoL's minimal involvement with the characters and plotbeats outside of beating up the mechs is a core problem, though. But a lot of it comes down to "trying to fit an entire Gundam season into 5 patch quests" and having to accept the shorthanding of those familiar plotbeats--which if not a mecha anime fan, can be a lot to ask.

And YoRHa's such a missed opportunity it's ridiculous. I'm still salty and always will be, as I was looking very forward to seeing how such a rich world and story would fit into FF14--and it doesn't. Great fights, great glamour, great music, I like the characters. Story started strong, ended with a wet fart. Again, de-centering the player characters and having major events happen offscreen is not a good idea. We're not playing FF14 to be the NPCs is some other heroes' story (that conceit is better handled in FF14's own framework). Auteurs who can't play even temporarily in someone else's sandbox should not be strong-armed into doing so when they so clearly...don't want to. For those who love the NieR series, it was a fun reference-fest. For those completely unfamiliar with the games, it was infuriatingly confusing (and the dismissal of that dissatisfaction from YT fans made it worse at times).

Shadowbringers is immersive (I just didn't even consider that I had the ability to return to the Source at any time while plowing through MSQ initially), draws together a ton of storylines and plot threads scattered through the previous 3 expansions to resolve many--and leave us asking new questions, throwing everything we thought we knew about the world, and even the WoL, into confusion. It's highs soar to new levels; it's lows are...actually pretty good, too, there's merit to be found in all of the content; even if a story doesn't hit, the gameplay, combats, music, glamours, updates to older content, flight in ARR--there's something for everyone.

I do think some of the ARR streamlining went too far in some places. We lost a good Scion chain in the Sylphlands, and the "Pray at Azeyma's Marker" quest post-Waking Sands. On the other hand, tossing water on a drunk at Buscarron's Druthers is no longer a 12-step process. You win some, you lose some.

And we're without Hildibrand this time. The Inspector take a break, there's enough going on, we coulda used some levity after...all that...but they wanted a good story worthy of him. And the work they put into the animations and cutscenes, using them as testing grounds.

So next we Walk to the End, to help those in need, find missing friends, and learn the final truths of Hydaelyn, Zodiark, the WoL's ties to this grand arc, and what is up with this little blue bird...

Shadowbringers took Emet-Selch from ARR Lahabrea levels of mustache twirling, Saturday Morning Cartoon villain. All monologue and evil laughter while his evil boobs malevolently boobed down the Post-Stormblood's darker breast boobily and changed him into an actual character. And the first Ascian who actually spent time with us in a more meaningful way. Flipping them from one note, evil that must be defeated. To one we came to understand and a group that connected to our character's literal past reincarnation that we do not recall.

Additionally, atmospherically, Shadowbringers brought us to Post-Apocalypse that wasn't 28 Days Later, Mad Max or Rapture-esque. While pulling from all those series. Its a world 100 years after the Apocalypse was averted but still causes the world to live in its shadow.

This expansion seems to be the beloved darling of the community. Even topping Heavensward in most regards. But, also, personally, I feel like Shadowbringers is only good Shadowbringers for the last three levels of it. And rest is just so much set dressing and putting together the A-Team. For lack of a better comparison, 70 - 79 is our Avengers Infinity War. We get the band back together, fight off the big bad and actually almost win. But then we lose and we lose HARD and we spend a handful of quests somewhat wandering aimlessly until we resolve to go after the one who took victory away from us. That lead up, to me, is alright but the story didn't really HIT, outside of my long winded story analysis reasons, until we reach Amaurot.

Even its Post-Patches seemed to struggle to figure out what to do. Having Elidibus bounce hither and thither without the Scions really trying to stop him because, "We don't know what he is up to." which was counterproductively frustrating to me. You are literally not stopping and banishing the villain so the plot can happen. Alisaie literally kept tabs on the Warriors of Darkness because we were focusing on dealing with Nidhogg. Why the hell couldn't they have kept tracked and harassed Elidibus at least? But no, the sky starts to shower stars and then it is go time. And while To the Edge and the Seat of Sacrifice are awesome. My suspense of disbelief that our Scions would just shrug and only off screen keep tags on lesser Ascians and then just be like, "I dunno fellas, this here Elidibus is tricky." strikes me as dense. Like, this is denser than a dead star. They let things happen for the sake of it happening.

Bottomline, there is some wiggle room here. Shadowbringers may be the community's darling. But I wonder if, its just because we remember the super highs of Amaurot to Seat of Sacrifice. And kind of brush things like; the Ran'jit fights, the Supernatural problem of Lucifer's Cousin's Roommate being the big bad in Lunar Primals, Thancred's treatment of Ryne and Speedrunning him some redemption in the Amh Araeng second half.

I'm rambling now, as a whole. Did you enjoy Shadowbringers? If not why? Vote your answer and leave your opinion in the tags if you'd like.

Note: I am aware that the Post-Patch production was stunted by the COVID Pandemic. Still, I'd like your opinion about anything you felt lacking. Even with that dead whale hanging over the entire thing.

[write-ur-wrongs]

The Death of Me

Pairing: Geralt x reader

Word count: almost 4K - big whoops!

A/N: This was totally meant to be a drabble / blurb, but the story got away from me! A huge thanks to the sweet anon who submitted this prompt - I was beyond inspired and chuckled warmly throughout the entire writing process. This baby isn’t proofread so thread lightly!! I sincerely hope y’all enjoy this one :’) 

Prompt:  Heya! I saw your post about wanting to practice writing short stories so I have a small prompt for Geralt! What about: the reader and Geralt have always had a difficult relationship, always running into each other at the most inconvenient moments and hence disliking each other. However, while Geralt is passing through a village the reader comes barging into his room bloody and near death, only getting a chance to say “I didn’t know where else to go” before collapsing. I would be honoured if the idea inspired you :3

____________________________________________________

You’d never considered yourself unlucky but lately life had a funny way of throwing you for a loop, or rather, throwing you to the wolves. One wolf, actually. A damn, irritating, and arrogant white wolf.

At first, it was all business. You’d arrive in a village itching for a contract, only to find that a “legendary witcher” had already come through and taken care of every monster within a two-days ride. Furious, hungry, and broke, you set out determined to get as far as you could and as quickly as possible. Your determination got you far enough that you’d managed a full three months of contract work, but not far enough it seemed.

You’d been on your way to collect payment from your latest contractor when you’d heard the buzz on the street; a witcher had come through asking about work, and had been told to wait and see as someone else (a woman! A human woman!) had already committed to the case. Apparently, he was either incensed or bemused at the idea – the brute was very hard to read, so say the town gossips – but it didn’t matter to you. You beat him to it and now you get to eat. When you finally met with the contractor to collect your coin, you couldn’t help but swell with pride as they thanked you, eyes wide, for taking care of a monster no human ought to be able to handle. You could have sworn your pride had given you wings as you floated out of the inn.

That is, until you heard them mumble under their breath, “Thank Gods that lass was able to handle it! Had it been the witcher, I would have had to pay triple!”

“Thank heavens for cheap labour!” whispered their partner, raising their glass to cheers their big victory.

Suddenly whatever weightlessness you felt transferred onto your coin purse. Biting hard on your cheek you pushed up your chin, determined to remain dignified. But then you saw him.

Impossibly broad chested, rippling muscles evident beneath his leather armour, with golden eyes that reflected back to you with a cruel playful nature that made bile rise in the back of your throat. He held your gaze and raised his own tankard to you as you walked past him. His deep voice rumbled through you as you pushed the door open.

“Cheers to cheap labour,” you heard him say, and swore you could hear the smirk on his full lips.

Groaning furiously, you pushed the door so hard it swung back and slammed shut behind you with such force a flock of birds took off somewhere in town. Undeterred, you stomped off towards your horse and set off at a gallop.

I’m going to make sure I never cross his fucking path ever again, you thought searingly.

You were wrong it turned out, but how were you supposed to know that?

You’d gone years without actually seeing him again, but that didn’t mean you were free of him. You’d alternated winning and losing contracts to each other, and the pressure of beating him to the next one stressed you so fiercely you developed ulcers. That alone would have been enough to push you to murder had you not heard from another witcher that their brother, the great white wolf, was losing sleep trying to keep up with you. Knowledge of this fact spurred you on; after all, if you couldn’t beat him, it’s best to be even, no?

The next time fate brought you two together, though, you could not have been farther from on top. What made matters worse, is that you weren’t even in battle when your paths crossed. Your literal paths just simply… crossed.

You’d been riding east for many days and just as many nights. You were tired, sore, and somehow still soaked to the bone despite the fact that the rain had stopped at least a day ago. You were so tired, your muscles seemed heavy in your limbs, and you had to keep blinking hard to bring the spinning world around you back to its axis. As you rode through an intersection on the trail, the sun peaked out from behind the thick curtain of clouds just long enough to pull you fully into sleep, and right off your still-moving-horse’s saddle.  

You honestly didn’t remember falling asleep, or off the saddle. You also had no memory of the moment another traveler, who was riding towards the intersection on the other trail, leapt off his mare just as you started your descent and caught you before you could split your skull open on one of the many rocks sprinkled throughout the street. You had no memory of the way he’d pulled you off the path, leading both horses behind him as he’d carried you over his shoulder. Zero recollection of him laying you down on a bed grass, tying your horse to a nearby tree, lighting you a campfire, or filling your pack with some bread and meat.

What you did remember, was the arrogant look on his face when you finally woke up. The condescending tone he took as he reminded you that you were ‘only human’ and had to take care of yourself accordingly was also seared into the annals of your memory.

You hated that he’d saved you almost as much as you hated the fact that you’d been asleep around him. Completely vulnerable for God knows how long and he’d been there to witness it all. Whenever the memory of the look on his face or the way he’d crossed his arms and tilted his stupid head as he condescended your humanity came to you, you couldn’t help but cringe even months after the fact.

***

Your saving grace came a full six months after your damned damsel in distress moment on the trail.

Well fed, well worked, and well travelled, you were taking your time enjoying the market in your town of the week. The work you did wasn’t glamourous, but it did allow you the means to afford a few luxuries every now and then. This time, it just so happened that your coin could buy you the sweetest gift of all: revenge.

The market was busy as ever, you could barely hear yourself think over the cacophony of voices and animal bleats bouncing around the square. Had it been anyone else, the conversation would have been lost among the noise around you, but when that voice came rumbling through the mess of shrieks and shouts, you couldn’t help but seek out the source. You didn’t know why you cared or why you were so surprised to find that the voice’s owner was none other than the White Wolf himself.

“You good?” you asked, making sure to tilt your head, hands on your hips, the same way he’d done the last time you’d met.

“Fine.” He practically barked, not even turning his head fully to address you directly.

The merchant, none-too-concerned with your arrival on the scene, continued as if uninterrupted. “I’m sorry Mr. Witcher, sir, but I can’t go any lower. This is the best I can offer.”

“I can’t pay that much,” he grumbled, hands closed into tight fists.

“I’m sorry-”

“Is this enough?” you interjected, knowingly offering forward far too many ducats.

“Y-yes!” breathed the merchant, looking quizzically at Geralt before picking three coins from your open palm, “thank you, madam...”

“Y/N,” you introduced yourself with a warm smile and a nod.

“Y/N!” Geralt hissed, at the same time, reaching out to push away your hand a fraction too late; the vendor was paid, and you’d won this round.

“What is it, Witcher?” you teased, as the vendor took his sword back for repairs, “been on vacation? Why so skint?”

“Been low on work lately,” he replied coolly, cat-like eyes boring into yours, “not as many contracts as there use to be.”

“Well, I’ll be,” you said, cocking your head to the side and pursing your lips in mock contemplation, “I can’t imagine why that’d be the case! Seems I keep running into monsters to kill.”

“Mmhm.” He hummed, narrowing his eyes at you.

Refusing to let him have the last word, you quickly turned on your heels and high-tailed it out of the market, shouting over your shoulder to the blacksmith to give any change back to Geralt before disappearing back into the crowd.

***

Being even should have brought peace between the two of you but it seemed to have the opposite effect. Your last interaction only fanned the flames of your rivalry. As the months turned to years without coming upon each other again, you still found yourself filled with unreasonable anger whenever you saw a mop of white hair cross you on your travels.

And not that you’d know it, but it turned out that Geralt wasn’t faring any better; finding himself frustrated and acting recklessly whenever he’d come upon anything that reminded him of you.

You were both completely obsessed with one another. Thoughts of the other constantly on the mind. Whether in waking or in dreams, you were both equally afflicted by an intense need to outperform, out run, and also, inexplicably, to impress the other.  

*

It was that need to impress each other that led you to accept a contract you should have never even considered taking. You honestly wouldn’t have even considered it had the circumstances been any different but you’d been hearing about this monster for weeks on your travels. Tales of the mighty griffin tearing people to shreds had been circulating far and wide on this side of the Yaruga, and honestly, with every retelling you’d expected to hear that a witcher had handled it, but that never happened. You’d somehow managed to arrive at the village at the source of these stories before him and had an opportunity to literally rob him of this victory.

Granted, you were the only one who’d been attributing him with this win, but that didn’t matter, not to you. The only thing you cared about when accepting this particular contract was the knowledge that by taking it, you were preventing him from having it, and that was more than enough.

The shock on the villagers faces when they saw you accept the contract only added to your already inflated confidence. The sheer size of the griffin’s wingspan humbled you a little, though, and whatever grand illusions of an easy victory you’d carried into the forest were squashed along with a couple rib bones only moments after engaging the beast. In short, you were fucked.

Some might say that coming out of it alive was enough of a win. Those people would be morons, you thought as you stumbled clumsily back towards the lights of the village, clutching your split abdomen with both hands and blinking back blood dripping from your forehead. Every step you took came with the stabbing pain of additional tearing around your wound. You could barely think, your ears were blocked and caked with dried blood and dirt, your tears stung as they fell across the gashes on your cheeks, and every breath in felt like it could be your last. You’d never admit this out loud, but a part of you wished the creature had finished the job.

Perhaps the only saving grace here was that in your condition, you couldn’t hear the villagers as they pointed and gossiped. You didn’t hear the “told you so’s” or the lewd shouts coming from the drunk men as you stumbled into the tavern. You could barely hear the disappointment in the inn owner’s voice as they reprimanded you for accepting a contract, they knew you couldn’t complete. Rolling your eyes, you pushed your way towards the stairs as quickly as possible – which, as it turned out, was not so quick, praying that someone would call you a healer.

“… and to think a witcher arrived only hours after she went off to kill herself! Tsk-tsk!”

You stopped dead in your tracks, drops of blood falling across your brow as you interrupted the momentum you’d been building. “W-what?” you croaked, turning towards them as much as possible to make sure you’d hear them correctly.

“Yeah! And not just any witcher, lass, the Butcher of Blaviken no less! Checked in with us just as you head out. Had you waited half a day you could have saved yourself a world of – ‘ey! Now where’s she off to?”

As you registered this news, something inside you snapped. Before you knew what was happening, you’d made your way upstairs and started pushing your full weight onto every door you passed. The great White Wolf, the Butcher of Blaviken, was certainly arrogant enough to leave his door unlocked. You might have been wrong about the griffin, but you’d be damned if you were wrong about this.

Fortunate or not, you weren’t wrong about this. As you pushed your shoulder against the last door with whatever strength you had left, the door swung open with very little resistance. The heavy wooden door slammed loudly against the wall at the exact moment that your limp body crashed onto the floor.

“WHAT the fuck!” Geralt howled, leaping off the bed and onto his feet. His wild eyes assessed the situation in an instant, and he bound to you in barely two strides. “What the fuck did you do? What happened?” he asked as he flipped you over, so gently you were sure you’d already passed out and were now dreaming. Or maybe the blood loss was finally catching up to you and you were full-on hallucinating.

“I didn’t know where else to go,” you breathed, barely above a whisper, before losing consciousness in his arms.

*

Regaining consciousness was a slow, painful process. You’d come in and out of it a handful of times throughout the night, and flashes of what you’d seen before you lost it were coming to you in an almost dreamlike haze; terrifying images of the furious griffin, its blood-soaked talon shining in the setting sun as it reared back to strike you again, and warmer visions of Geralt, shirtless, running towards you with – could it be? – genuine concern in his eyes.

Now as the rising sun cast its glow across the room, you squinted painfully against the light. Your head felt as though it was full of cotton; heavy, and scratchy, and unnatural on top of your shoulders. Hesitantly, you ran your tongue over your teeth and were equal parts relieved to find them all there and disgusted at the acrid, mineral taste the blood left behind. Blinking slowly, you tried to bring up your hand to rub at your eyes, but stopped short as you felt the large bandage draped across your forehead.

Slowly, you started to register the other bandages, on your arms, your cheek, across your abdomen. Your eyes grew wide as you finally registered the man facing away from you in the far corner of the room. Geralt’s broad strong back was hunched away from you as he rifled through herbs and small glass vials looking for something. Inexplicably, you found yourself disappointed to see he’d put his thick black tunic back on. Horrified by that realization, you literally gagged, startling Geralt and pulling his attention squarely onto you.

His big dumb beautiful face was all hard lines as he looked you over, stern eyes flashing to meet yours before dropping back down to the vial in his hands. You couldn’t help be notice the way the muscles in in jaw rippled and tensed as he sighed. He was oozing disappointment and anger, and that infuriated you.

“Am I dead?” you ask, squinting at him a little theatrically as you squirmed and winced in your bed.

“No.” he practically growled, his body tense as he made his way towards you slowly.

“Oh,” you breathed, bringing your eyes up to his before adding, “this isn’t hell?”

To your immense satisfaction, his stern eyes widened into shock, but then something unrecognizable flashed across his features – wait, was he hurt?

“Why, because I’m here?” he shouted, as if in confirmation of your hunch, and slammed the damp cloth he’d been holding back into the basin.

“No, jackass,” you retorted, pleased that despite the position you were in, you still had some semblance of an upper-hand, “because a griffin fucking fileted me like a fish and some poor drunk is probably downstairs slipping in a pool of my blood right now.”

You’d kind of hoped that he’d laugh, or at least have a comeback geared up for you, but Geralt just stood there staring at you, his mouth in a tight line, nostrils flaring.

Uncomfortable by the intensity of his stare and the silence accompanying it, you decide to continue to poke the bear.

“Come on, what’s with the face, Geralt? Pissed I’m still alive? You know you could have just closed the door over my body, let nature finish the bloody job.”

“Fuck, no! Y/n!” he screamed, startling you out of the attitude you’d put on, “I’m pissed because you’re an impossibly difficult woman hellbent on killing herself! I’m pissed because you don’t seem to fucking care about what happens to you! You can’t keep doing this Y/N! Because one of these days you’re going to get hurt and you’ll be too far away from me and I won’t be able to fucking save you, again! I am pissed because I am losing my mind spending every god-awful day wondering if you’ve gone and gotten yourself killed! Fucking hell, woman! If you didn’t find me – I-if I wasn’t here, with these herbs – Damnit Y/N!”

You just sat there, mouth opening and closing like a fish. You couldn’t believe it. You didn’t know what to say. This man, your nemesis, was in front of you pacing back and forth, breathing heavily, looking like a maniac. His nostrils were flaring more than the monster that almost killed you just yesterday. Part of you wanted to correct him and demand he never address you as ‘woman’ again, but his wild earnest eyes kept you quiet. My god… was he crying?

Before you could say anything, Geralt sighed gruffly, ran his large hand over his face and stormed out, mumbling something about needing to get you more water.

Left alone with your thoughts, you couldn’t stop yourself from spiralling. You’d expected him to be angry – hell, you wanted him to be angry! You’d humiliated yourself twice over, enraging him would ease the blow – but this was… different. He seemed genuinely concerned about you. And what was with his whole speech? He spent every day thinking about you? Worrying about you? There’s no way.

Sure, you thought about him daily, but that was out of spite! You hated the man! Why else would your heart race whenever you thought you spotted him in a crowd? Why else would you actively seek out the most dangerous contracts? What, like you were hoping these contracts would draw him out, and therefore, closer to you? As if!

Your ridiculous inner monologue was interrupted by Geralt’s return. The horrible brute knocked gently on the door before stepping inside, and your heart had the audacity to skip a beat.

Oh, you thought, fuck.

“I need to change the dressing on your wounds,” he grumbled, not meeting your eyes. You nodded wordlessly as he settled onto the chair next to you. You watched him work in silence, praying he would attribute your insane heartrate and flushed skin to a pain response from his work.

“Geralt?” you tried, chewing nervously on your cheek, as was just finished up with the last of your dressing.

“Hm?” he hummed, keeping his eyes cast down as he fussed with the bandage on the gash across your abdomen.

“Thank you… for saving me.”

He finally brought his gaze up to meet yours, but said nothing in return. He merely grunted in acknowledgment. You didn’t know why, but his silence in combination with his inscrutable gaze encouraged you to keep talking.

“I honestly only took this contract because I didn’t want you to have it,” you admitted bashfully.

“What the fuck? No one was taking it because they weren’t paying nearly enough! Hell, and you’re just a human,” he fumed, throwing up air-quotes as he said it, “so what – they offered you a third of nothing?”

Laughing lightly, you shoved him with your elbow, “they offered me three whole ducats!”

“Oh, wow,” he laughed, low and rumbling, “so a big pay day for you, eh?”

“Shut up,” you gasped as pain rippled through you with each peal of laughter, “knowing I could screw you over was payment enough!”

“Well congratulations are in order, you did manage to screw someone over,” he chided.

“Me,” you stated dryly, gesturing widely at your busted up body.

“You,” he echoed with a sigh that seemed to deflate him.

He suddenly looked so small, sitting there next to you. You watched him as clenched and unclenched his jaw, rubbing his large hands up and down his thighs – was he anxious? You mind raced as you felt his eyes travel slowly up your body. You held your breath as he worked up the nerve to finally bring his eyes up to yours.

The moment his eyes landed on yours, something shifted. Whatever had been lodged uncomfortably between the two of you all these years had finally clicked into place. This change, albeit small, was palpable. His eyes dropped to your lips and lingered there. He was looking at you like he’d never seen you before. Like he was afraid he might never see you again.

Without speaking, Geralt inched himself closer to you and reached a tender hand to tuck your hair behind your ears before cradling your face.

“You’re not allowed to die, do you hear me?” he whispered, gently stroking your cheek with his thumb.

You gave him a quick nod and brought your hand up to his, nuzzling into the warmth of his palm before giving his hand a quick kiss.

“I need to hear you say it,” he begged, bringing himself even closer to you.

“I do,” you breathed, trying to sit up to bring your face closer to his. “I’m not going to die, not on your watch, but I’m also not quitting.”

“Y/N –”

“No! If I quit, you’d get lazy. Who’d push you? What would be your driving force?”

“Wow,” he scoffed, looking at you incredulously but fondly, “you’re so fucking arrogant.”

“And yet…” you said, quirking a brow flirtatiously as you pulled him closer by the collar.

“… and yet?” he murmured, letting himself be pulled closer to you. His eyes half-closed and his lips slightly parted.

“You love me.”

“I love you.”

And then he kissed you. His mouth claimed yours urgently but his hands were ever gentle, ghosting over your bandages and caressing your skin with a feather-light tenderness that would have brought you to your knees had you not already been bedridden. Any hesitation or doubt melted away under the heat of his touch as all those years of tension sprung apart catastrophically. The knot you had carried in your stomach unfurled into flittering fireflies, their heat traveling up your stomach to your chest as his hands worked their way into your hair.

You didn’t know when they’d fallen, but you let out a shaky laugh as Geralt kissed away the tears on your cheeks, his thumb swiping at the tears his soft lips failed to catch. Breathing heavily, he rested his forehead against yours; his hands cupping your face as yours captured his.

Gods – this man was going to be the death of you.  

[katsukikitten]

Part one. Master list for plus one can be found here.

Just a nice fic I decided to write for fun. Please enjoy!

Asshole!

He was nothing but a huge, giant fucking ASSHOLE for the entire two years the two of you were dating and he decides NOW is a good time to break up with you?

Two days before your cousin's wedding and over TEXT MESSAGE?!

That fucking asshole.

He knew how you felt. Exactly how you felt about going alone to your cousin's wedding after your family begged to meet your boyfriend and teased you for "probably making him up." Which hell, he may as well have been made up considering how absent he was in the relationship. Using work as an excuse to come home late but forgetting to turn off his snap location when he showed up at the bar.

So you did what any rational woman in her upper twenties would do.

You drowned your sorrows in booze, tonight red wine as it was the only thing around, and you scrolled through your socials in hopes of distracting yourself from your suffering.

Alas the devil that is Instagram only amplified your sadness and irritation. Showing couple after couple, your friends on hikes kissing on the mountain top, kissing in the flickering light of candles at a fancy dinner or, worst yet, getting proposed to. The video showing her in hysterics screaming, "YES I DO I DO!"

And it feels terrible to feel this way. Especially about your friends, the people you love and want to support, still it stings. You hadn't told anyone about the breakup, you weren't even sure your friends even remembered that asshole's name.

A teardrop lands on your screen, magnifying all the magical lights of the led beneath the glad. You wipe away the tear and with that the feed refreshes. A new post has come in at the top, Res Riot's official account.

Kirishima stands with a fat white cat in his arms. He dwarfs the animal with his large stature that looks larger as he still has his Red Riot gear on. The caption reads something along the lines of "missed my precious baby."

Red wine is a dangerous thing as your body acts on its own. You go to his page to hit the little arrow to DM him. Typing out and backspacing your message as you struggle from the booze, you decide to say fuck it and use the voice memo feature. Before you know it your sniffling voice is playing back to you after you've hit send.

"My ex broke up with me before this stupid wedding. It's in two days and my family is going to roast me big time when I show up alone. They think I made that asshole up. I don't know why I'm even in your dms. Your account is probably run by some dick head who can't even capture your kindness. I guess I'm here cause my first thought seeing you on my timeline was Red Riot has always been my hero…"

Ugh totally fucking cringe.

There is no surprise as you see the three normally ominous dots pop up, probably his social media manager about to ask you to stop your "advances" as Kirishima is too busy to date and he'd hate to block you or some other bullshit.

But there it is a surprise to see a little bubble with the play button and some vertical lines in various heights. It takes your sluggish brain a moment to realize you've been sent a voice memo. Odd. Your thumb smashes the screen faster than you can think and a deep voice rumbles through the speakers of your phone.

"Actually I run my official and personal socials. And I'm sorry to hear about your ex doll. He sounds like a real ass. I'll be your hero, I'll go with you to the wedding."

Your heart stutters, no way, no way in HELL this was Red Riot. You had read about the horror stories before or pervy account managers taking advantage of women who so desperately wanted to talk to their hero.

Hell, it's happened to Dynamight plenty of times.

You swallow quickly but the bile rushes up your throat. Not just from the anxiety of a possible con but from drinking an entire bottle of wine with nothing on your stomach after months of sobriety. Quickly you stumble to the bathroom, abandoning your phone on your bed. You barely make it in time to praise the porcelain Gods before you fall onto your back. Looking up at the light in your cramped bathroom, the orb doubles and spins as you feel the Earth turning on its axis. You curl into your side using your bathmat as a pillow as you drift off into sleep, totally forgetting about the voice memo on your phone.

As you sleep peacefully on your memory foam bath rug, Kirishima settles into his nightly routine. One giant hand grabbing strands of long dark red hair into a towel while another sits snugly around his Adonis belt and the thick, black happy trail that follows up the center of his abs before spreading out onto his chest. He tosses the towel over the open door of the bathroom before sitting in his favorite armchair with phone in hand. Diamond, his beautiful white cat he rescued a few years ago, jumps onto the arm of the chair, purring loudly when Kirishima's free hand scratches her ears absentmindedly.

He chuckles to himself as he realizes exactly what he's done. Acting on a feeling instead of logic all because he heard a "damsel in distress." Starting off his rare vacation with spontaneity starting with an impromptu date with a stranger. He really isn't sure what you look like and it's obvious your handle doesn't have your real name in it, just PrincessPeach with some random numbers at the end. He takes the time to scroll through your profile. Seeing pictures of food, of many sunsets, a friend's dog that guest appears often, your own cat and plenty of strays.

It takes him a while before he sees a photo of you. His heart stutters in his chest as he looks you over. Laughing with a friend, soft lighting from strings over head that blur like little fireflies. Your smile is wide, half hidden by your hands as your eyes seem to smile with you. Sparkling as if they held stars.

For a moment Kirishima forgets how to breathe, it isn't until Diamond jumps down from the armchair does he inhale. He smiles softly to himself before he drops his towel, puts his phone on charge and promptly falls asleep in his bed.

Kirishima rises before the sun even has a chance to filter through his blinds. He sighs softly, getting up to a sitting position disturbing a fluffy white ball that lays beside him.

"Mmrow." Moon stone eyes blink slowly as they look at the mountainous man hogging the bed.

"I didn't mean to wake you sweet baby." He says softly, going to pet the soft white fur only for her to get up stretch and give him her butt before plopping back down.

"I know, mean ol' daddy woke you up too early again." He says softly, his hand falling onto her back before he rises from the bed. Fishing for his running shorts, socks, headphones and shoes. He makes his protein shake, leaning on the counter as he drinks it, looking at how you read, or better yet, listened to his message but still no reply. It was late and there was a small slurring of your words, he figures you've passed out. He just hopes you're okay.

His run goes as usual, up before anyone else unless they were the normal avid runner. Passing by the usual array of people. An old man holding onto his youth by jogging through his daily five mile morning run, Kirishima knows he runs another five in the evening while the sun is setting. He hopes he can embody some of this man's commitment when he is older. Then he passes a middle aged woman, who gives him the biggest smile as she pases, jogging backward to send him a wink before plowing ahead. Occasionally he'll see a running group or a few teens training to be heroes, they always ask if they can run his route. "It's long." He always warns in a kind, warm voice. They assure him they will be fine so far only one other person could handle his 12 mile morning run. A young woman in her second year of hero courses at UA. Since then Kirishima put in a word with his boss and so every time internships roll around she's in the office.

By the time Kirishima is rounding back towards his high rise apartment, the city begins to stir. Slowly waking as men and women in business suits rush towards the train, parents flinging open the doors or curtains fussing at their children who cling to an extra few minutes of sleep before school.

This was always his favorite part of the run, not because it was almost over, oh no it was because he had a chance to glimpse at everyday life. Of nine to fives, of school hours and after school hangs outs at snack bars or the library.

What most would call the mundane but Kirishima would never call it that. It's why he worked so hard to protect it.

Diamond greets his sweaty form at the door. Glaring angrily with her moon stone eyes. Tail swishing before she goes to the kitchen by her bowl. Waiting impatiently.

"I'm not late, sweet cheeks." He coos, and she glares, "I know I know. You're hungry now."

He opens the fridge, gets out the highest quality food there is and places it on her dish, sure to keep it all in the middle or she'll claim her bowl was empty. He added a splash of water too since the weather was starting to get hot.

He sucks down a water or two, demolishes a protein bar and then heads to the apartment gym.

A few hours roll by and without hearing from you yet his worry over your well being begins to cloud the forefront of his mind. He pauses his music, picks up his phone and talks out a voice memo.

A loud DING echoes from your room and around your skull as you rise with a throbbing headache.

"Fuck." You hiss to yourself grabbing at your head as you shakily rise to your feet. Yanking the handle of the faucet to drink from the stream before looking at yourself in the mirror.

"Ugh." You grunt ignoring your swollen face and eyes, yanking the mirror door open to snatch at the bottle of aspirin. Swallowing THREE extra strength pills before slamming the door shut and turning off the faucet. You make your way towards your bedroom, more than ready to sleep the rest of your day away. Grabbing at your phone to charge it you see the push notification of an Instagram message from Red Riot.

The fucking Red Riot.

Internally you scream before it bubbles up your throat and escapes. You fumble to unlock your phone before looking that it's a voice memo.

Mortified you realize you sent one too. And first at that.

"Fuck MEEE!" You plop onto the bed. Nervous this second voice memo is probably about how you're a weirdo or something as you relive the memory of asking him to be your plus one.

Hesitantly your thumb hovers over the play button before you find the strength to press the cool glass. A soft thunderous voice plays out.

"Good morning sleepy head. I haven't heard from you yet, I hope you're okay. Be sure to drink some water and eat something greasy. Trust me, late nights with Denki and Bakugou taught me something. Since the wedding is tomorrow I'll need a picture of your dress for the color and style so I can match you Sweet pea. Contact me soon so I can know where to pick you up."

Did he… did he just call you SWEET PEA? Your heart pounds in your chest before it registers he's asked for your dress color and lowkey asked for your address. This couldn't be real. It sounded like Kirishima, his voice familiar from interviews you've watched but it very well could be a prank. Defeated you hit the small microphone and reply.

Kirishima hears a sharp DING in his headphones over his music as he finishes his set. He wipes the sweat from his face on his shirt giving the few people in the gym a lovely view of his sweaty and thick torso. One woman trips on the treadmill but it goes unnoticed by Kirishima. He pauses his music and hits play on the little memo. Your beautiful yet groggy voice comes in through his ear buds causing Kirishima to bite his lip. It causes such a flutter of butterflies in his stomach he has to listen a second time to actually hear what you said. Although he understand, he cannot help but feel hurt by your reply.

"How do I know you're not just some pervy guy using Kirishima's Godly looks to prey on unsuspecting people."

Your phone chirps at you from the bed stand and you growl reaching for it. You had hoped your message would have been clear. An unspoken of you know they're a fucking creep taking advantage of their PR job.

"What can I do to prove it to you, Sweet Pea?"

You hate how that cute nickname sends your heart into a somersault and your stomach in delightful knots. Still your doubt pulls a harsh tut from your lips before you reply.

Kirishima doesn't need his phone to alert him that you've messaged him, he's been looking at his screen for far to long without having to restart his set. He listens to your voice as if it were music.

"Fine, you wanna prove it to me so bad. Take a picture of yourself shirtless with the word 'Sweet pea' you love so much and send it to me. No photoshop I know what my favorite hero looks like!"

For over an hour you don't hear back and you figure you showed that perv.

But now you can't sleep so you nurse a water, door dash a "greasy" breakfast all before cranking your shower as high as it can go. Your phone dings and you try to ignore it. You really do but as the saying goes curiosity killed the cat. Opening the message you see a classic guy mirror selfie. Kirishima is clear as day in the photo, his large hand pointing to his bare, hairy chest where sweat pea is scrawled in his adorable handwriting. He winks at the camera as his kissable lips wear a dangerous, almost cocky eyes travel down his bulk following his happy trail that dives under a pair of black shorts, the best part of the view getting cut off by the vanity. At first you try to rationalize that this was fake but damning evidence was sitting on the vanity. A fluffy white cat in a diamond and ruby encrusted collar sits on the counter giving her owner an odd look.

His cat Diamond that everyone knows he loves and adores. Slick begins to collect between your thighs and especially so after you listen to the voice memo that comes through shortly after. His normally friendly and soft voice comes out a bit dark, husky as he says in a playfully annoyed tone.

"Now send me a picture of that dress, Sweet Pea."

[mixelation]

Going to disagree with some of this, since this is a post about what canon actually gives us vs headcanons or popular extrapolations. (Not that some extrapolations aren't totally reasonable, just that the REALLY popular ones tend to obscure what's actually in canon.)

Sakura has the best chakra control of her entire class, including Sasuke, period, end of story. Kakashi states this at least twice, including VERY clearly during her fight against Ino. However, this is never linked to her actual amount of chakra. In fact, Naruto having insane amounts is the only link made between amount of chakra and ability to control it as of the end of the chunin exams in the manga. (I'm unsure what other commentary was made in the anime/later-- but this is what's relevant to Sakura's actions during the Wave mission.) Additionally, there's not a lot of commentary in general on how much chakra the average person has, aside from Naruto having a lot more than normal. There's no canon evidence as of this point in the series that Sakura has a below average amounts of chakra, just that she's the best at controlling it. There's commentary on her physical stamina being low, so this is a reasonable extrapolation, but it's not really "canon." Also, any of that being linked to her parents being civilian is also purely fanon: her family is barely ever mentioned in the manga (just that her mom would scold her) so we don't know what their ninja history is, and in the anime, they're ninja. Again, Sakura being at a disadvantage due to having civilian parents is a common and logical headcanon based on what canon does give us, and is indeed my favorite headcanon for her... but it's also not canon.

Sakura being the only one "left" to guard Tazuna is probably why she was left alone, yes, and my tag on the original post mentioned that I'm not sure what Kakashi thought she was meant to do if Zabuza showed up. What I'm refuting is the idea that Sakura just twiddled her thumbs and did nothing while Naruto and Sasuke were working hard on training-- she passed the assignment immediately, gave Naruto some tips on it (unclear if these actually helped him, but Sasuke later asked Naruto to repeat them), and then was explicitly ordered to guard Tazuna by Kakashi. Additionally, during the showdown on the bridge later, she does make moves to help Sasuke against Haku, and is again ordered by Kakashi to guard Tazuna. She sticks to this post even when she thinks Sasuke is literally dead-- Tazuna has to tell her he'll go with her to see him, so she's not abandoning her post. If you think this is a boring thing for a character to do, yeah I can agree with that, but I'm a little tired of fandom spinning following orders and doing the assigned mission as "doing nothing." No, it's not the most exciting thing for a character to be doing, especially in a shounen manga where the narrative mark of hard work and progress is training to the point of exhaustion. But canon does NOT show her "doing nothing." It shows her doing the very boring task of following the assignment.

I have a lot of issues with how Sakura is written, particularly how she's not allowed much narrative agency. She's never allowed to make decisions which have plot-relevant consequences, and therefore a lot of her attempts to help in fights get shut down. A lot of her stated talents are then left underdeveloped (such as your complaint about her not having any cool attacks) and she doesn't get many moments to show them off. But a lot of prevalent fan analysis about her actively ignoring her ninja duties and neglecting her training, particularly during the Wave Mission, are not what canon actually tells us. She did the training assigned and then followed orders related to the mission they were being paid to do. Exciting? No. Doing "nothing"? Also no.

On a side note, there's also not a lot of canon evidence that Naruto was mistreated academically by teachers (right up until Mizuki tried to trick him). In fact, there's very strong evidence that Iruka favored him.... but also Naruto makes at least two comments about struggling to read (kanji in particular), forgets information previously explained to him (he has a line about not really remembering Sakura's lecture on chakra so Kishimoto has an excuse to explain it some more/again), and also states that he's bad at theory but "his body can learn it." What's canon is that Naruto's brain just doesn't jive well with traditional teaching methods, although you're free to extrapolate/headcanon his academy experience how you like. Anyway, I'm not sure what Naruto's learning struggles have to do with my points about Sakura. My point is that the three of them were given one very specific task to master, and Sakura mastered it first, which is why she wasn't shown "working hard on training." A lot of fans try to spin this as her being lazy or actively neglecting training, and I think maybe they forget Naruto and Sasuke were literally just working on tree climbing.

Fic trope: During the Wave mission, Sakura screwed around and did nothing while Naruto and Sasuke trained.

Canon:

Sakura was the only one doing the mission because Kakashi exhausted himself and Naruto and Sasuke were literally just practicing tree climbing, which she managed almost immediately.

[moved2usagiiboo]

Chifuyu x Hybrid!Reader

⚠️ Warnings⚠️ this story contains explicit description of sexual acts. Viewers discretion is advised. Minors dni

彡❣️Chifuyu and a Cat!Hybrid would be the cutest relationship ever. I do not care.

彡❣️Considering he owns a bet shop he knows exactly how to take care of a cat and because of all the manga he read as a kid, he knows how to love a woman.

彡❣️Don't think it works that way buddy but it's the thought that counts.

彡❣️He's the best owner and boyfriend ever. He grooms you, pets you, gets you all different types of desserts as rewards, cuddles all the time!

彡❣️Sure, at first he was a little awkward. He's never owned a hybrid before much less dated one, it was weird but he loved every minute of it.

彡❣️His favorite thing about you would probably be your tail. It's so soft, he can't help himself. He loves playing with your tail. Especially after a long day at the shop.

彡❣️ Oh! You're a great help at the shop too. It's like you have this intuition about animals, it just helps everything run smoothly.

彡❣️Your guys' domestic life is pretty calm and relaxing, it's peaceful.

彡❣️Except when it's not.

彡❣️Ever since you guys started dating you stopped taking heat suppressant pills. Your body had to get used to the sudden change, considering you just stopped completely. For a while your heat was irregular and random.

彡❣️Good thing you had Chifuyu to help you!

彡❣️It was a telltale sign that your heat was coming when you started to purr really loud, like extremely loud, or you get clingy and super emotional.

彡❣️You'd always want to sit on his lap, his cock resting right under you.

彡❣️You would have to wear something that smells like him, anything.

彡❣️Your eyes would be dilated, completely focused on him as you whine his name over and over.

彡❣️ Slowly grinding your hips against him as you cry his name begging for him to fuck you.

彡❣️ He would instantly give in, fucking you for hours until you were satisfied.

彡❣️ It wasn't always like this, the first time you had your heat was just seven months into your relationship.

彡❣️ You guys were out shopping for some new clothes when you randomly fell down to your knees. Your breath was broken, you would barely say a full sentence.

彡❣️ You remember feeling dizzy, drunken almost. Your head was spinning at a thousand miles per hour and there was nothing you could do about it.

彡❣️ Your body heated up in an instant, drool seeped out the corner of your mouth. Your ears and tail moved without your command.

彡❣️ "H-Hey?! What happened? Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

彡❣️ "Fuyu'..."

彡❣️ With one look at your face he knew, he carried you to the car and rushed back home.

彡❣️ He put you in your shared room, telling you to take as long as you needed to feel better.

彡❣️ You tried and tried. Your fingers weren't didn't reach where it needed, the pillow didn't feel good, nothing worked. You couldn't bring yourself to that orgasm you needed. All you could do was cry knowing you'll never be able to get rid of this itching feeling in your core.

彡❣️ Chifuyu heard you crying but refused to do anything about it. It's not like he didn't want to, but he wanted your first time to be special. Not when your judgement was clouded by your animalistic urge to mate, he wanted you to come to him mind free of influence and doubt.

彡❣️ But fuck, why are you moaning so loud. Why are you crying his name, you're making it harder for him to stick to his resolve.

彡❣️ "Fuyu' please, I cant— Need you, please Fuyu'."

彡❣️ Fuck it.

彡❣️ He came into your shared room, only to see your ears dropped down and tail in-between your legs as you desperately tried to finger yourself.

彡❣️ "Need you cock Fuyu'"

彡❣️Followed by a plethora of please and begs came after.

彡❣️ The throbbing pain in his cock tried to convince him to just fuck you right then and there, but he couldn't.

彡❣️ This wasn't the way he wanted to have his first time but he can still make it special and cater to your every need.

彡❣️ "Be a good kitten and spread your legs."

彡❣️ With glossy eyes from the tears you did so, you moved your tail and parted your thighs allowing him to look at your glistening sex.

彡❣️ "So pretty, can I touch you here?"

彡❣️ You nodded begging him to touch you, even going so far as to trying to grab his hand.

彡❣️ "Nu-huh, be patient okay?"

彡❣️ You nodded, you could feel yourself getting wetter from the anticipation of his touch.

彡❣️ He bent down, his knee pressed into the bed as his lips claimed your own.

彡❣️ While he distracted your mouth his own he took the time to explore the outer region of your cunt, a two fingers dragging down each lip. Till his fingers met your slick slit, his fingers dragged up your slit grazing your clit with his digits.

彡❣️ You arched your back into his touch. All you could think about was more, you wanted more of his mouth on yours. More of his fingers, everything.

彡❣️ He broke the kiss to focus on your dripping sex. You were dripping, honestly prep wasn't needed but he wanted to make you cum with just his fingers alone.

彡❣️ He pushed two of his digits inside of you, starting off slow while he kissed your thigh leaving bite marks on the plush skin.

彡❣️ "Fuyu~"

彡❣️ "I know kitten."

彡❣️ Kitten, he'd often call you it as a play on you being a hybrid. Never once did it sound so sexual till now.

彡❣️ His fingers curled inside you, hitting the spot that had you creaming on his fingers in an instant. Due to being in heat you were more sensitive than usual, even the smallest touch could have you squirting in an instant.

彡❣️ Despite you cumming once, he never stopped. He picked up the pace, his fingers moving after inside your sloppy cunt.

彡❣️ You were shamelessly grinding against his fingers moaning his name. Your tail was wrapped around your waist keeping it out of his way so he can continue the assault on your gummy velvet walls.

彡❣️ You cried for more as you felt another orgasm come near, he obliged. His fingers now moving at a ruthless place as they continuously hit that same spot over and over without mercy.

彡❣️ "Good girl, go on. Cum again for me."

彡❣️ And you did, your juices dripped down his fingers into his hand.

彡❣️ "Such a messy pet."

彡❣️ "M'sorry, more please.."

彡❣️ He put his fingers in his mouth tasting you, and he felt like he was on cloud nine from taste of you.

彡❣️ Pleads came form your mouth begging him to hurry up, you just couldn't take it anymore. You needed to feel him inside, more tears dripped from your eyes as you repeatedly begged him.

彡❣️ "Okay, Okay, I'm hurrying."

彡❣️ Stripping himself from all articles of clothing he stroked his cock just to solidify the hardness before he gave you what you asked for.

彡❣️ It was hours of him mercilessly pounding your tight cunt over and over. 

彡❣️ His length reaching those places you couldn’t, his cock kissing your G-spot with every thrust as you mewled his name.

彡❣️ Plethora of praises left his mouth in a gruff tone through his pants.

彡❣️ They just went straight to your cunt, with every praise you would subconsciously squeeze around him. You’d earn a hiss from him every-time. 

彡❣️ You can’t remember how many times you released your juices on his cock or how many times you begged him to keep fucking his cum into you. 

彡❣️ Your head was spinning, eyes crossed, and tongue lulled out. You saw stars each time he’d slap his body against yours.

彡❣️ Kisses littered your body as he called you his “pretty kitty”. Promising to fill you up real nice. 

彡❣️ He’d kiss and bite your tail or ear, whichever looked better at the moment which sent a jolt through your body.

彡❣️ He was attentive to your sensitive nub as well, rubbing circles that matched the pace of his thrusts. 

彡❣️ He was close once again and you were too. The way your walls pulsated against him told him everything he needed to know.

彡❣️ Talking you through your nth orgasm.

彡❣️ “That’s it baby, you feel it coming don’t you? Fuck- Go ahead, cream my cock princess.”

彡❣️ “Your pussy is so greedy, you just came but it won’t stop sucking me in.”

彡❣️ “Fuck, fuck, fuck, gonna cum in this tight cunt again.”

[tomurasprincess]

Kinktober Day 22: Zombie (Voracious)

Day 22: Zombie Title: Voracious Word Count: 2.6k Warnings: Noncon, necrophilia (cause zombie), predator/prey, biting, marking, blood play, yandere Note: Thank you so much to @thewheezingwyvern who is always down to help me without batting an eye when I go “so, zombie plague...what are some good symptoms? And yes, the zombie is going to fuck you.” Also, for the love of everything that is unholy, please mind the warnings. Do not read the fic and come to me to tell me how disgusting it was. Trust me, I know. :)

Kinktober Masterlist

The country of Japan is dead. Or at least close enough that the distinction doesn’t matter.

Several months ago, an aggressive virus leaked from a quirk research facility and spread through the population like wildfire. Nobody was informed about what was going on, and nobody was warned when the virus first began to hit the cities. Officials kept it as quiet as possible, hoping to contain the spread before it got out of control. And before anyone knew how big of a mistake they had made.

But it was far too late for any sort of containment. The virus already spread fast in a lab environment, and it was even faster as it tore through an unprepared population.

The first sign of contracting the virus is tiredness and body aches.  The infected simply thought they caught a minor illness, and they continued their business as usual, expecting it to go away on its own. But as the virus continues to spread through their body, the tissues start to die and they develop intense fevers and headaches. By the time the infection makes its way to the brain, confusion and outright delirium has begun to occur.

The infected are wild by this point, feral to the point of attacking, biting, and eating the uninfected.  The ones who were bitten and survived had the site of their wound swell and turn agonizing to the touch, and they would suffer the same progression as the other infected.

The final stage is always the same though. Once the black rot of plague starts appearing on your skin and spreading like the branches of a tree, it’s too late.

The worst part is that the infected still have use of their quirks, and the devastation has been immense. Super powered heroes and villains with their minds rotting and decaying from infection, losing the ability to distinguish friend from foe. In some areas, the casualties were even worse from fighting than they were from the virus itself.

Somehow, you have managed to keep yourself alive and stay away from the worst in-fighting and the areas with the highest concentration of infected. Still though, it is a surprise to you. You’re simply a quirkless nobody with no way to defend yourself.

You have seen so many better, stronger people die right in front of you, leaving you forced to continue on alone.

You sigh as you scavenge through an old building that was once a store, looking for more supplies. Yours are dangerously low, and your dry mouth and grumbling stomach tells you that you need to find something quickly, before you become too weak to continue on.

You practically jump out of your skin when you hear the banging of items hitting the ground from deeper within the store. It might be survivors, or it might be the infected. The thought briefly occurs to you that you need to check to make sure, but you quickly shake it away.

Survivors or not, you didn’t come this far by being careless. But as you inch quietly towards the exit, you see a flash of red eyes from within the darkness as something emerges.

No, not something. Someone.

One of the infected.

It’s clear that he’s in the late stages of infection, the black rot spreading out through his body, but most notably his left leg which he drags limply. He’s wearing what are essentially black rags that flow out from behind him, leaving his chest bare so that you can see more of the black spiderwebs of rot twining outwards.

His eyes zoom in on you, narrowing slightly as you stand there frozen in fear. Neither of you moves for what feels like hours, but is really mere seconds. You break out of your trance first, turning on your heel and running for the door. The infected pursues you instantly, jumping over a table rather than running around it to save time. The move is a sign of intelligence that instantly fills you with dread. By this stage, the infected are usually too confused and delirious to remember such things.

You make it to the door with him hot on your heels. You’ve always considered yourself a fast runner, especially lately, but this is an entirely different story. He’s fast, too fast. The infected are not supposed to be like this, especially not with a bad leg. But yet he is quickly catching up to you as you dart through streets you know so well.

You realize that your only chance is to lose him somehow, as you’re never going to be able to outrun him. Your breath is coming in harsh pants already, a stitch burning in your side as you make a sharp, desperate right turn into an alleyway.

An alleyway with a dead end.

This area was clear just a week ago, but now it looks like an infected hero or villain used their quirk to collapse both buildings in the area, causing massive chunks of cement and debris to block the road out. There is no way to climb over the rubble and no handholds or stairs to use to climb up the buildings. You’re completely trapped.

You whirl around quickly, hoping to get out before the infected catches up with you. But you’re too late. He’s already standing at the entrance of the alley,  staring you down with heated red eyes. A sharp burst of awareness fills you as you realize exactly who this is. The leader of the League of Villains, Shigaraki Tomura, whose whereabouts have been speculated on for weeks along with the rest of his villain group.

No wonder he’s so fast and so dangerous. The infected retain some level of awareness and ability from the time before, and Shigaraki was one of the most deadly villains in the country.

And if the way he’s acting towards you is any indication, he still is.

You take a step back. He takes a step forward. Another step back. Another step forward. You scan through your chances of getting out of this alive and uninfected, but your mind comes up with nothing.

Your back hits a wall abruptly, and in your split second distraction, the infected is on you. You’re pulled roughly to the ground, hands barely breaking your fall as you land on your front. This is it, you think to yourself, I’m about to be eaten. All this time of running away, of watching people you care about die, all for nothing.

You can’t stop yourself from trembling as you try to brace for the pain of being devoured. But instead, he leans down and buries his face into your neck, sniffing the skin deeply as he pushes your body further onto the ground. His hips are bucking against the curve of your ass, and with dawning horror, you realize exactly what the hard bulge in his pants is.

He grabs your pants and you watch as decay overtakes them and dissolves them into ash. He decays your shirt and bra next, leaving you bare from the waist up and shivering from the cold of his body pressed against you. You’re too scared to move, too scared to do anything.

But when he reaches for your panties, that’s when your paralysis finally breaks and fear takes over. You try to lift yourself up from the ground to run, only to hear a snarl as teeth sink into the flesh of your neck.

You go limp with a choked sob, losing any and all desire to try and get away. It’s all over now. That one single moment has doomed you to infection and madness. The pain of the bite is nothing compared to the despair you feel.

He lets out a pleased hum at your sudden obedience, pulling your panties aside as you feel something cold and hard prodding at your entrance. You barely have time to comprehend what’s happening before your pussy is filled with one sharp thrust of the creature’s hips. The infected aren’t supposed to do this, aren’t supposed to have these urges, you think wildly to yourself. This can’t be happening, it’s not possible.. But it is happening. You’re being taken by this creature like a wild animal in a back alley.

And then he is moving, hips slapping against your ass as his throbbing length pounds into you. There is no gentleness, no precision, just deep, feral thrusts that have you unwillingly clenching. He’s thicker than you’re used to, and the pain of your muscles stretching around him causes you to whine from the back of your throat.

This shouldn’t feel good. You should be horrified, disgusted. You should be fighting tooth and nail to get away, even though it’s hopeless since you’re already infected. But the cold of his cock pressing against your warm walls has your head spinning from the contrast.

He hits a soft, spongy spot inside of you, and you let out a squeal as your stomach tightens. The teeth are removed from your neck, only to bite down in another spot on the other side. He ruthlessly breaks skin, causing blood to run down your front and drip onto the pavement below.

Your body feels like it’s on fire, everything so overly sensitive as his cock forces your walls to stretch open even further as he gets rougher. The hands gripping your hips feel warmer than they were before, fingers digging hard enough into your skin to create bruises. The grunts and groans leaving his throat are positively lewd, and he takes his mouth away only to bite down in between your shoulder blades.

Your scream echoes through the alley as the teeth penetrate flesh, his tongue lapping at the bite and taking deep swallows of your blood. You try to imagine yourself somewhere else, anywhere else so that you don’t think of the pressure building up inside of you and the pain from the throbbing bites now decorating you.

Your nails dig hard into the cement below you as you try to ground yourself and ignore what’s happening, but Shigaraki doesn’t seem to appreciate that at all. He smacks his hand hard against your ass, keeping his pinky raised delicately off your skin in a way that has you worried about his level of awareness.

Now that your attention is firmly back on him, he bites the back of your neck, and you can’t stop the howl that leaves your throat when you feel your skin break, or the orgasm that wracks your body as you feel blood trail down the column of your neck and down in between your breasts.

Tears run down your face as humiliation burns through you, the shame of cumming around this infected villain’s cock almost too much to bear. Almost worse than the fact that you’ll soon be just like him.

“M-m-m - “

Your eyes widen as you glance behind you, seeing the infected concentrating hard as he tries to get words out. He’s stopped thrusting, as if he’s trying to focus entirely on whatever he wants to say. As he opens his mouth, you see his teeth stained with your blood and the sight shoots straight to your core.

“M-m-mine,” he finally manages to stutter out, “mine.” He forces your head down onto the pavement as he begins to ruthlessly pound into you.  The infected don’t speak, they’re not supposed to speak -

“Mine,” he snarls, almost as if he heard your thoughts and is trying to prove you wrong.

You’re oversensitive and wet from your previous orgasm, allowing him to fuck you deeply, hitting your cervix with every thrust. You can feel your pussy dripping your juices all over his cock, and the wet squelching noises that fill the alleyway has you shaking with embarrassment.

“Mine, mine mine,” he chants as he bites again and again, each time pausing long enough to take gulps of your blood. Your head is spinning, lightheadedness from blood loss overtaking you. The ground below you has puddles of your own blood where it drips down, and you briefly think that maybe you really will be eaten right here and now instead of being infected and left to wander.

His hand comes in between your bodies to stroke tight circles against your swollen clit as he chuckles deeply into your ear. “Mine,” he whispers darkly. “Why else would I stumble across the cure for the plague if you weren’t meant to be mine?”

Cure for the plague? That’s not possible, there’s no cure for the plague, and you’re completely quirkless -

He bites down one last time, sinking his teeth into the back of your neck and holding you there like a dog refusing to let go of a bone. You realize why immediately when he groans into your heated skin, warmth spreading through your core as he shoots hot ropes of cum directly against your cervix. The pain of his teeth buried into your flesh has you thrown over the edge as well, legs trembling and eyes rolling into the back of your head.

He removes his teeth from your neck once he’s emptied himself inside of you, letting you go as you collapse onto the ground. You roll over enough to meet his eyes, seeing sharp intelligence and contemplation. The black rot is quickly disappearing, color returning to his skin. Within no time at all, you can no longer tell he was ever infected.

“How - I don’t - I’m quirkless - “

“No, you’re not.” He states it matter of factly, as if it was already known. “You have a quirk, it just didn’t have a purpose until the plague. Your blood carries the cure.”

You consider everything that happened, realizing that the more blood he drank, the more human he seemed. The faster the infection was being cured. He snorts at the look of disbelief and then understanding on your face. “With you on my side, I can remake society exactly the way that I want.”

“I am not on your fucking side! You’re a villain who just - “ You can’t even bring yourself to finish the sentence, but Shigaraki has no issues doing it for you.

“A villain who just fucked you and got you off?  Such a dirty girl, getting off around infected cock.”

Your face heats up and you instantly glance away, drawing another chuckle from his throat. “I won’t help you,” you say stubbornly, ignoring his previous words.

“Who said I was giving you a choice?” His fingers dig into your arm as he pulls you off the ground. “You belong to me now, and I’m going to do whatever the fuck I want with you. Just think about the power I have now. I control who stays infected and who gets cured. No more hero society.” His voice has taken on an excited, almost manic tone as he considers the possibilities.

“Are you - are you going to let them do what you just did?” You whisper quietly, a single tear running down your face at being used the same way by other people.

He instantly scowls at you. “Of course not.”

You perk up just a bit, until you hear his next words.

“I’ll let you be a blood bag, but for everything else - you’re mine. And I don’t like to share.” He begins to drag you back the way that you came, walking with purpose.

“Now come along. We have so much work to do.”

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

Kinktober: @ichor-and-symbiosis, @thewheezingwyvern​, @vixen-scribbles, @katsukisprincess, @hisoknen, @trafalgar-temptress, @leeswritingworld, @burnedbyshoto, @bakugotrashpanda, @dee-madwriter, @kittycatkrissa, @reinawritesbnha, @yanderart, @dabilove27, @fae-father, @anxietyplusultra, @flutterfalla, @angmarwitch, @nereida19, @babayaga67, @fromsunnywithlove, @dabis-kitten, @bakugos-cumsock, @yumeneji, @the-grimm-writer, @iwaizumi-chan, @slashersheart, @bunnyywritings, @bakarinnie, @angie-1306, @emplosion22, @lalalemon101, @videogameboiwhowins, @f4nficbaby, @tenkoshimmy, @baroque-baby, @bbyspiiice, @thirstyforthem2dmen, @blissfulignorance2000, @bluecookies02-main

[tokoyamisstuff]

Scandal Ch. 1 - Loki x Reader

Summary: After your child is born a Frost Giant, your husband accuses you of infidelitiy, unaware about his own heritage...

Warnings: Pregnancy, Childbirth, Angst, Mild Cussing

Noteable: Takes place before Thor 1, Asgardian Fem! Reader

Words: ~1800

I Story Masterlist I General Masterlist I

It was as if your anchestors wanted to deliver a warning, for Asgard had never faced a storm matching this fateful afternoon.

The thunder swallowed all of your screams and cries, every curse you spoke with each contraction as the baby made it’s way into this world. All this time, your precious husband would never leave your side, letting you squeeze his hand as much as you needed.

“Only a little bit more, my Lady!” the midwife shoutet from between your legs, her tone calm yet cheerful. “I can already see the head!”

“I’m right here. You’re doing wonderful, my petal.” Loki was softly petting your hair, pressing a wet kiss into your forehead. “You are incredibly strong, Y/N. And I love you so much!”

Remaining collected was using up all of his energy at that very moment, you knew that much. Yet not even the God of Lies could hide all the helplessness and excitement stirring in his head at that very moment.

Being with the Prince of Asgard was just like in a dream.

Once you get to know him, that troublesome arrogant lone wolf turned into a smart, caring - and especially charming - prince. And hel, Loki treated you like a Queen.

All this pain you were experiencing right now would ultimately lead to the greatest bliss imagineable - just like it was with Loki.

Oh, how dearly you had fought, suffered, yearned for him, only to be rewarded with heartbreak and frustration. In between his feverishly chase for the throne and his rivalry with Thor, there was just no room for a loving relationship to grow.

The crushing weight of thinking himself unworthy for affection had made him cold and bitter over the millenias, telling himself the comforting lie that he was above all, born for a glorious purpose.

For the God of Mischief, whose kinsmen had always made him feel out of place or under-appreciated, the process of trusting had always been one step forward, three steps back.

But through your compassion, and with a great deal of patience and understanding, you slowly but steadily melted the ice around the prince’s heart.

Because deep inside, you always knew that it was worth it.

And today would be the peak of your romance: Your child would forever remind the Odinson that he belonged somewhere - right here, with you.

“It’s a boy!”

“A heir?!” Loki exclaimed, smothering your face in kisses. “Well done!”

You smiled weakly at his excitement, in between choked sobs. All that your exhausted self was able to process was the fact that your child is born - and you already loved him beyond reason.

“Where is he?!” you whimpered, unable to realize how the air in the room had shifted - for when the midwife touched the infant, she began to scream in agony.

“What’s wrong?!” Loki’s eyes were narrowing at the midwife that almost dropped his newborn, detecting some sort of burn wound on her palm. Quickly, she had covered the boy in a towel, aware that if any harm came over that baby, she was to die at the God of Mischief’s hands.

A flash of lightning was brightening the whole room, which had only been flooded by dim candle light until now.

Another one of the midwife’s screeched in terror, almost stumbling as she frantically erscaped your bedchamber. The adrenaline from birth and worry about your child sharpened your senses, yet concentration was almost impossible.

Still, the words she was yelling as she ran down the hall send a shiver down your spine:

“It’s a monster.”

Your head was spinning as you rushed into an upright position, with two nurses pressing you onto the bed again. “Milady, you need to rest! It’s still too early!”

“What is wrong with my child?!?” you desperately screamed, kicking with your legs to free yourself from their hold. “Give it to me!”

Their expressions were too much to bear. Your head was spinning, seeing pity mixing up with disgust and anger in their eyes.

“Enough!” Loki finally broke his own silence, his mind having been occupied with all the horror scenarios one could think about.

Walking up to the midwife carrying the infant, he demanded seeing it. “Your highness, don’t-” yet the midwife’s beg was for naught.

Yes, everything will be alright. Loki will take care of it, like he always does. After all, he’s your savior, your hero, the love of your life...

Gently and insecure, your husband cradled the newborn in his arms - a sight to behold. And the baby’s strong cries assured you that it was at least alive.

However, as soon as he dared to unwrap the towel, revealing it’s face, Loki’s heartbeat completely stopped for a second. His trembling lip began to shake, mouth widely agape as he took in the child’s form.

For a brief moment, his mind was completely blank. All emotion dropped from his face before taking in a complete different demeanour.

“Wha-” you wouldn’t dare ending that sentence when your husband’s furious eyes met yours.

The air was so thick, you thought not even Thor’s hammer could break it. Clearly ritten on Loki’s usual unreadable face were so many emotions at once:

Aversion, fury, incredible sorrow...all directed towards you? The child?

Impossible.

Loki Odinson loved you more than anything in this world, this was the only thing you had always been sure he wasn’t lying about.

“From all the people I expected to betray me...” His voice was hoarse, as if the ache in his heart was wrapping around his throat. “Why did it have to be you?”

You could feel the horrendous aura, a wave of sadness and despair coming from your husband. Seeing him like this was like torture.

“What- what do you mean, darling-”

“Don’t fucking call me that, you harlot!” That was surely not the first time your lover had raised your voice against you - he could be a bit difficult at times, obviously.

But this time was different somehow. It sounded so...ultimate.

And the Loki you knew would never use such harsh words against you!

“Please, I beg of you...just let me see my baby!” Everything was just too much for you, almost to the point of passing out. 

And the man did as you pleaded, almost shoving the child into your arms. “There, have your bastard! And make sure to never show your filthy faces to me ever again!”

With that, he stormed out of the room, leaving you with those strange nurses looking at you like you’ve just commited an unforgiveable crime.

There was no use in overthinking this. He’ll come back like he always did. You can work this out, whatever it is - even if you are gonna be mad for a very long time, making such a fuss and then disappearing instead of taking care of you, the mother of his child.

Out of a whim, you decided to finally observe the little being you’ve been waiting for all those months.

A loud gasp escaped your mouth as you realized just why everyone was so worked up about that little boy. Yet the sound you made was solely surprised - not a hint of fear or rejection laced your voice.

It was a beautiful baby boy, little fists balled to the air as if he was searching for the warmth of his parents - though his skin was in the shade of a dark blue. When you dared running your hand over the deep lines and ridges on his body, the stinging pain of frostbite immediately stung your fingertips. His eyes snapped open, looking at you with black irises through red scleras.

You knew the meaning of this, even though you didn’t understand how this was possible: This child was a biological Frost Giant. A small one, but nonetheless.

A curse? Was someone trying to play your family dirty? No. If that was the case, the child wouldn’t also have actual powers together with the appearance.

Just how long have those tears been running down your cheeks in thick streams already? You wouldn’t know.

Only one thing came as clear as daylight to you: You loved this baby, more than anything in this world. And no matter the hardships that came along with it - you would protect him, no matter what!

“He’s magnificent...” you sniffled, pecking some quick kisses onto his small body before the cold could hurt you. “I love you so, so much...!”

Not minding the judging looks of the nurses, let alone wondering about the consequences, resolve was starting to give you new strenght.

The boy got a grasp on your finger, and instead of your skin freezing off as expected, your magic allowed him to the boy to finally disguise itself as one of you. How was this even possible? Well, this is probably the first time something like this ever happened, so no one could prepare you for what to expect with this child.

They all say that birth was an impactful event - but nothing could’ve prepared you for everything that you had to endure on this day.

Yet nothing could’ve stopped you from believing that this child was the greatest blessing that ever came over you.

Now you only had to convince your husband of that very fact...

“Y/N Y/L/N!” the guard wouldn’t even bother adressing you with your full title as his harsh voice woke you up. When had you drifted away into slumber anyway? You were probably way more worn out than you wanted to admit...

Your eyes immediately snapped open, heart skipping a beat until you saw that your son was still sleeping soundly right next to you. Stroking his cheek as he smiled up to you, it almost made you forget about that burdensome situation.

“Hey!” Protectingly, you were holding onto your child for dear life as the guard approached both of you. “I have an important message to deliver!”

You scowled, almost like an animal mother protecting their offsprings with baring teeth, even though you knew in that state you would be completely and utterly helpless. “Why now? What could be more important than the well-being of my child?”

The answer let your blood run cold:

“I am here to announce that Lady Y/N Y/L/N has to face a trial in front of the Allfather. The following crimes she is being accused of: Infidelity, collaboration with the enemy and trying to sneak one of them into our glorious kingdom.”