#I can’t feel bad for her. these are monsters of her creation and everything that happens from here is her fault

[cherrysnax]

why do people slam doors when they’re angry. it only hurts the door

[where-dreams-dwell]

Roderick Usher is such a good bait and switch of a villain! You spend most of the show watching his ‘downfall’ and corruption, knowing that he’s going to become the monster Dupin knows him as. But you still want to believe he can’t be all that bad, and he somehow knows this and plays right into it until the very end

Roderick is telling his story and peppers it with all these asides and moments that make the audience feel some sympathy for him. That make us believe he either has good intentions beneath everything else, or originally had them and was corrupted by power.

He implies he truly didn’t know Ligodone was addictive: he tells Dupin ‘you belive the chemist when he you tells you the drug they made isn’t addictive, you trust your company not to abuse the use of that drug’. He reminds Dupin (and by extension the audience) that he ‘didn’t make the damn thing, I just sold it’. And then it cuts to show that the drug company was originally acquired by Roderick’s predecessor as CEO, who took his pitch for a pain free world and ran with it. This makes the audience feel some small sympathy for Roderick: not enough to think he’s a victim in anyway but it worms in there and makes him not as monstrous as he was a moment ago. It implies he is not solely to blame.

The audience see’s (we think) Roderick getting corrupted and swayed to the dark side of corporate greed. Brilliantly they show Roderick in present day acting in ways that seem in character for what we have learnt about him, and then flash back to the 70’s to reveal that those lines or attitudes where originally those of the old CEO who Roderick *hated*. It appears as if pure innocent and trusting Roderick who runs straight at injustice has been corrupted by the old CEO, has become the monster or villain that he once hated. It’s a small tragedy mixed in with a busy narrative but it impacts the audiences view of who Roderick once was. We interpret this as an originally good if naive man corrupted by power and wealth. Coupled with all those scenes in the 70’s of Madeline being more emotionless and pragmatic, pushing Roderick to be more manipulative and strategic, it appears as if he has been ‘forced’ or ‘groomed’ into his role against his original intentions. Part of the scenes we then spent in the 70’s is spent quietly mourning this version of Roderick, as we know it doesn’t survive his ascension.

But there are enough moments to imply that Roderick is still being an unreliable narrator. When Dupin first apologised for faking an informant, saying he feels that his lie had some role in the death of his children, Roderick’s first response is to run with that false impression. The way he responds to Dupin’s apology sounds like he’s gearing up to lay into him about his role in Roderick a children’s death, to double down and agree that Dupin does bear some blame for how they died.

And then one of his dead children appear to him. They make him pause, collect himself, and acknowledge what Roderik knows to be true: Dupin’s lie had no bearing on their death (his deal with Verna is the reason they’re dead) and any impact of that lie on their final fate is solely due to Roderick believing it and then placing a bounty on the supposed informants head. He turned his kids against one another, Dupin’s lie was just the vehicle. Roderik only voices this when he is forced to by his literal ghosts.

There are several moments when it appears his dead children are ‘keeping him honest’. When he’s getting off topic Perry or Leo appear to shock him and remind him to keep telling their stories. When he tries to downplay his part in the creation of Ligodone and argue that the horrors of its addiction are actually due to a street derivative which ‘hasn’t been FDA approved’ Camille’s appears behind him to force him to reconsider and eventually interrupts him so abruptly he trows a glass at her. When he’s lamenting Frederiks death and remembering him as a child not an adult (the last time Roderick was any kind of father to him) Fredrick takes over child/Frederick’s body to remind him of how he died and to get back to the story. It’s almost like he’s saying ‘you don’t get to remember me like this, you don’t get to miss remember and pick and chose: this is how I died and it’s because of you so keep going’. It’s only in hindsight so we realise this was Roderick trying to subconsciously control the narrative and change this confession, to reframe his actions and those deaths. And the kids didn’t let him get away with it.

Even Juno as a narrative device helps to hide Roderik’s rotten centre: she is such a bluntly honest and sincere person, she lends a little credence of honesty to Roderick. We think he must have some small good in him (albeit wrapped up in all the ‘old enough to be Juno’s father, makes the opioid she’s addicted to, doesn’t defend her from family cruelty’ BS of his ‘love’) as she is devoted to and loves him. Plus when we first meet her he states he loves her, he is always shown to be gently affectionate towards her, and even claims she is one of his ‘two favourite ladies’ along with his granddaughter who we know he dotes upon. But then at the very end his twisted horror show of devotion is revealed: anything close to love he holds for Juno is warped by her being a living totem of his product, something he can point to and use to further his cause. Juno is an object to him, one he enjoys complete control over. He has never seen her as a person in her own right, just a doll/puppet to prop up his drug empire, and he can’t separate her or his feelings for her from the drug she is dependant upon.

Added to this, towards the end of the show we discover that this ‘unburdening’ of Roderiks sins, this confession to a litany of crimes, which will give Dupin closure for both his life’s work and answers to Roderick’s betrayal of him in the 70’s… that isn’t even Roderick’s idea! Verna told him to confess. Even at the end Roderick isn’t mending bridges of his own volition.

And then his final revelation: he’s been lying the whole time, maybe his whole life, to everyone. He had always know people would die to ensure his success, that he would have to climb over ‘a mountain of bodies’ to get to the top and it never once made him pause. He wasn’t corrupted, he didn’t get poisoned by the old CEO and his views, he didn’t change to take on more of Madeleine’s views. He just noticed the best way to get work done and adapted.

Dupin had it right from the start: the only good that he ever saw in Roderik was a reflection of Annabelle lee’s. Like the moon has no inherent light of its own, Roderik hid his darkness behind the strength of Annabelle’s goodness until the time came when she couldn’t shine on him anymore. And he was revealed for the empty dead husk he had always been.

And Annabelle even said it herself, when then kids chose Roderick over her. They were starving and he told them to gorge themselves but he could never actually feed them, because he had nothing real to offer. Empty through and through, and just. So. Small.

[cursed-peanut]

Once there’s nothing left to destroy and no one left to kill, he comes to terms with the fact he killed Reader and becomes disgusted with himself. He’s officially became the monster Reader thought he was. The only fair punishment he deems for himself is to live out the rest of his life on this bare planet, wallowing away in the pain he stupidly caused himself.

thats literally poetic i would eat it up

ur so right ab their personalities i can def see it happening. i like how ur writing is very relative to the characters personalities. if u write angst i cant wait to read it

if u go w the gojo idea, imagine seeing sukuna manipulate reader using their love for him to find out stuff for him or to help him out n stuff, and the reader hates it but hasnt ever known any other love, and thinks this is like normal until gojo finds out and is so betrayed bc he thought the reader was close bc reader liked gojo back

reader going out of japan and sukuna becoming a good guy (im delusional) n all n finds her his whole life only when he does shes moved on n stuff and like doesnt even remember him that well, now that would make me cry rlly bad 💀💀 - 🍥

Thank you!! I truly think that that is how everything ends in this AU. Reader can no longer look past Sukuna’s actions, so they move on completely, leaving all shackles of Jujutsu Society behind. But Sukuna can’t accept that and becomes loss of purpose and overwhelmingly angry, so much so he destroys everything and regrets it for all eternity once he’s calmed down and realised what he did.

And I’m glad you think so! I’m sometimes worried I write them ooc (I mean, soft Sukuna is VERY ooc, but like, other than that I mean lmaooo), so I’m happy that my depictions of them are right.

I will definitely explore the Gojo idea, but I don’t think it would be the canon idea. Or at least where Reader reciprocates the feelings. It could possibly come close, but then Sukuna’s like “nah, you’d lose.” And kills him.

But yes, no matter if Reader was to reciprocate Gojo’s feelings or not, Sukuna would know and would definitely use your obliviousness to Gojo’s feelings and devotion for him to his advantage and manipulate Reader into giving him information about Gojo.

Now Reader is a kind soul, even though they love Sukuna and he’s told them time and time again that this is okay and it’s for the greater good, deep down Reader knows they shouldn’t be doing this and it eats them alive. Therefore, I’d like to think Gojo would immediately know something is up.

When he questions Reader, they would immediately crumble telling Gojo everything that Sukuna knows thanks to them and he’s not gonna lie, he feels absolutely betrayed and heartbroken that while he thought you were finally reciprocating his feelings, you were secretly telling Sukuna everything. I think this is where Gojo would properly start honing in on the idea that Reader should stay away from Sukuna and telling them he isn’t healthy for Reader — despite being heartbroken. Maybe if you cut contact with Sukuna, you will fall for him this time?

The plasters ripped off and Reader’s view of Sukuna shatters as they finally realise who Sukuna truly is. Completely overwhelmed and heartbroken that Sukuna would use them like that, this would be when Reader leaves Japan.

And yk what? Sukuna becoming a good guy is extremely delulu icl, but soft Sukuna is already delulu enough, so why not go the full mile? 😂

I honestly love this idea! It’s definitely not something I would make canon but something — like if Reader started dating Gojo — I would like to explore at some point!

Imagine Sukuna realising how shitty of a boyfriend he has been when Reader left. He was so focused on creating the perfect future for Reader and him that he completely neglected Reader’s feelings during the creation process, so he stops his plans, changes his ways (mostly) and focuses on trying to find them.

After a few years of searching, he finds Reader in a country far from Japan with a completely new life. Itadori warned him before he left that finding Reader probably wouldn’t end well, but he ignored him. He now wishes he’d listened to his bratty nephew. Reader had a dotting, human boyfriend, worked at a bakery, had a nice welcoming home and had completely moved on from him.

He was unsure about approaching them at first, but he regretted when he did because you had to rack your mind for a good minute before recognising him. But that wasn’t even the worst part. When Reader recognised him, their face morphed into pure fear as they just stared back at him. Waiting for him to do something. Perhaps kill them for running away from him.

“I see you’ve created a lovely new life.”

Reader warily nods as tears prick the corners of their bloodshot eyes. This is it. This is the end.

“Promise me that no matter what life throws at you, you will live a life you can be proud of.” And with that, he turns and leaves them alone. Forever.

Thanks again 🍥 anon for the yummy angst thoughts :333

————————————

Taglist: @makuzume @spicyhyunn @pearlescentwonderland @namjooningera @six-eyed-samurai @natriae @domainofmarie @lixern @fluttershyfangs @girlyuuta @anabort @yu-87 @sukunaglazer4ever @madison777x @dervngedgf @calisnewworld @ilybbg @the-banshee @mostnormalsukunastan2024real @williamafton26 @mythoswarrior-23 @megantheefan @mindless-rock @kimsunoo2003 @anayesha1 @shyshybabyy @unlikelystay @shigemis0ra @iloveboysinred @eresel4mordemivid4 @meo66 @frozen-waffles @mrsslytherin00 @lazyperfectioniste @whosmarjj @itawifeyy @sugurubabe @hanniebanggi @mrs-monkey-d-luffy @sukunadckrider @shadowlover321 @mwtsxri

Please don’t copy or take as your own. Likes and reblogs are appreciated!

Like what you read? Here are all my other works and consider following me! If you’re interested in this AU, here is the masterlist for all works in this AU so far. If you would like to request something, please check my rules first before doing so.

[korgidorgi]

I LOVE YOUR WINGED READER STUFF.

At the end of your HC with Mel, you mentioned that Reader and Mel see each other after the fic with Ambessa. So, and hear me out, Singed turns Reader into a giant monster to fight in the war‼️

Mel Medarda x Winged!Reader - new plot idea (thanks anon :3)

I actually already have a plan for the next bit of the story, but I really do love that idea! So I’ve maybe kinda added an alternate timeline for you :)

This was actually super fun to write, thank you so much for the prompt! I’m so glad you like my series!!!! I didn’t really do the giant monster thing, but I did practically get rid of everything that makes King Raven King Raven >:3 (lmk if you really want the big scary monster reader and I’ll write another one this was so funnn)

Idk when I’m posting this, but I wanna post it now bc all I’ve been doing the last few days is writing writing writing for this Winged!Reader series thing. The hyper fixation is hyper fixating and I can’t stop it. Gods I need to learn patience lmaoooo (I lied I wrote for 6 hours and now I’m posting)

Lowkey, this can be a follow up next chapter to the Ambessa fucking hates you fic. Like, it actually flows and that one makes this all make sense. Nothing feels better than puzzle pieces putting themselves together for a project you never thought would be a project. Like, I’ve had this fucking character in my head since before season two came out and this just let me put it all together and develop this story for myself. (Maladaptive daydreamer much?) Anyways, I’ll stop ranting and raving, I just actually lost myself in writing this wsjjkanjsidfiwj.

Oh my gyatt this is a long one…

Warnings: Violence, cursing, mind control?, blood, injuries, angst

Summary: basically the above ask.

Ambessa still has you in her possession, hidden away from the world. Singed runs the final ‘treatment’ you’d failed to receive three years ago when he first had you in his lab, when he first made you into his creation. Under Noxian control, possession, and guard, you remain close to his needles and his concoctions. With the help of the Herald’s existence and the relationship with Singed’s work, your mind becomes entangled with thoughts that are not yours. Commands slip into your head, your body obeys. Flashes of what’s happening feel like a dream, or a bad trip. Sound is a whirr in your mind, blending together in a cacophony of noise. You’re unable to make out what is producing them, let alone be able to separate them. Your mind is barely present, pushed down by whatever concoctions Singed has pumped into you once again. Trying to fight the loss of control is painful, a way to keep you compliant, keep you beaten back and unable to defy your destiny.

Flashes of large ships stain your mind, just barely in focus. The harsh clinking of metal, chains, waves against a hull, people shouting, Ambessa barking orders. It’s a blur. The only thing crystal clear in your head is the orders you’ve been given by Singed and Ambessa. It’s hard to focus on anything but your orders, even then, you blindly follow, unable to stop your own body from moving on its own accord. Your body is wrapped in red and metal. Noxian war garments. A new, metallic mask adorns your face, a twisted version of a falcon with sharp edges and a dark aura. Your hands grip the weapons in your hands; a Noxian war spear in one, and a close combat heavy blade gauntlet in the other.

The boat lurches, and the utter of a single word sends you into action. Your wings spread, beating quick and sending you into the air. Dodging projectiles, you use your weapons expertly, fighting with horrifying swiftness and strength. Piltovian’s stand no chance against you. You’re stabbing, slashing, swinging, wrestling with anyone you come across. Each face your eyes focus on only reveal the same sinister face that put you in this position, the face that causes agony whenever you see it. Rage boils in your blood, activating the Shimmer in your body. Pain surges through your body and your mind, forcing you to continue and discouraging any urge to disobey.

You’ve flown past the enemy lines, far into their territory. Your objective to clear a path to the Hexgates at any means necessary. You slaughter your way to the building, leaving so much blood in your wake. Stepping up the staircase to the front doors of the building, you wipe the blood from your weapons, revealing the shimmering steel beneath the red liquid. The heavy doors are locked, but it’s not a problem for you. One swift, Shimmer-fueled kick to it breaks the locking mechanisms. The doors uselessly swing open slowly, groaning as the hinges protest. More enforcers are inside, opening fire the moment they see you. You move quickly, dodging most of their fire as you rush them one by one. Blood splatters across your form with each enforcer you take out, staining your red drapes, your feathers, and your armor. Only a few stray bullets hit their mark, but only to just end up grazing you. Small tears in your outfit build up, showing the others how much strength you wield against them despite each injury you sustain. None of your injuries slow you down, your body moving like a machine. Your movements are automatic, calculated, the end goal to remove everyone who stands against you. The Shimmer in your veins helps to begin closing the wounds, keeping you moving towards your objective.

His face is everywhere. No matter how many times you rid your vision of him, another version of him pops up, another sting of pain paired with it. You close in on him, quickly slashing his throat with your spear before he can fire at you. Another version of him fires at you from down the hall. Your eyes snap over to him and your body moves on instinct, quickly closing in on him. You thrust your spear into his chest, easily slicing through his blue armor and quickly staining it a dark red. He falls from the tip of your spear, only for another version to take his place further down the hall. It’s a nightmare you can’t wake from. The only way forward is to fight, to kill until you stop seeing his face. You remove the blade from another body, huffing as you do. Confusion, rage, panic, it all flows through your system, your mind. You can feel that something is wrong with you, but you’re so disorientated, stuck in this twisted nightmare that feels so real with the pain searing through your body.

You turn your attention back to the task at hand, focusing on clearing the way to the Hexgates. One more figure stands in your way. Singed stands at the end of the hall, donned in a white cloak, a hood over his head. There is no weapon in his hands, only the golden threat of pain swirling around him.

His words are muffled, making your vision blur more. You shake your head, trying to clear your vision. You can barely make out what he’s saying. It’s so similar to his voice, but there’s another element to it. Something gentle.

“Get out of my head…” You seethe at him, your grip on your weapons increasing as you begin to take strides towards him.

With a wave of his hand, a wave of golden pain rushes towards you. You swiftly dodge it, beating your wings to get an advantage above him. Before you can get too high to make your move, two golden tendrils wrap around your ankle, pulling you back down to the ground. You quickly adapt, swiftly closing in on him to land a strike against him. You miss. He’s too quick and sends another wave of gold at you, his mottled voice ringing out yet again, this time his tone is a bit more desperate. Only a few of his words stick in your mind.

“I… …not… …r— enemy—“

His voice is barely understood, fading in and out of your mind, but it doesn’t sound like him. It’s something softer. Familiar.

Despite it, you don’t stop your objective. Your body moves against your will, continuing to strike out at him. Your body and mind are still driven by fear and illusions, working like an unstoppable, well-oiled machine.

With each golden wave of potential pain sent your way, you fight harder. It’s a very balanced face off. But you don’t let the golden waves touch you. Who knows how painful he’ll make you. You can’t get close enough to land a hit on him, but neither can he. It doesn’t seem like he’s fighting very hard to stop you, but hard enough to keep you at bay.

“Fucking fight me you coward!” You urge him angrily, rushing in to try to land another hit.

Before you can reach him, another golden wave comes at you from the side, sending you into the walls of the hall. You let out a grunt at the contact, your mask flying off your face and landing on the floor with a metallic clatter.

Something jostles in your mind. Now your mind can’t make up if your looking at him, or Mel. That’s impossible. Mel is still missing. She can’t be here. Not with Singed.

You shake your head, trying to clear your vision and your mind. You let out a growl, fighting against another golden wave that tries to pin you to the wall. He speaks again, the voice muffled, distorted. Like there’s two people talking at the same time. He approaches you, a hand outstretched to keep you at bay with his golden magic. The closer he gets, the more confusing everything becomes. You’re seeing two faces on the same body, sending waves of intense emotional distress, polar opposites. It’s overwhelming, causing pain to shoot through your mind. You lash out again, trying to keep him away, to end him, to stop the mental torment. Mel is gone and there’s nothing you can do about it.

“Please!” He pleads with you, sending another wave of energy to keep you against the wall. “Remember!”

“I’ll fucking kill you!” You scream at him, your vision flicking between Mel’s face and Singed’s.

You fight against the golden energy, but it’s stronger than your body, keeping you in your vicinity as he approaches you. You shake your head again, trying to right your mind and your vision, to try to make sense of this nightmare. Despite how unreal everything looks and sounds, the pain and emotion surging through your body and mind screams otherwise. You can’t tell what is what anymore, if anything is even real.

You break free of the golden energy, rushing him again with unparalleled speed. You manage to push him back, pinning him against the wall on the opposite side of the hall. You hold your blade against his throat, your body freezing as you pin him to the wall. Your mind can’t make up who you’re looking at. You can’t bring yourself to hurt her.

“What did they do to you, my Dove?”

The first cohesive sentence uttered since your mind got thrown into a blender. Your chest feels like it’s being squeezed, but your body remains frozen. Singed would never know to say that. Despite your mind flicking through the two different faces, one thing that remains constant is the eyes. Full of concern and sorrow, holding a tenderness only one person has ever shown you. Your breaths come out in ragged huffs, your mind erupting in pain as you try to piece everything together.

A hand comes up to gently move a piece of hair from your face, the touch gentle, so gentle. The longer you look, the more clear her face becomes, the illusions beginning to fade from your mind and vision. A soft, warm, golden glow emanates from her hand, her face slowly coming into focus, the illusions of Singed’s wrinkled, bandaged face slowly fading. You blink, shaking your head slightly before focusing back on her.

“Mel…?” You ask so softly, your voice breaking.

Your grip loosens on her, noticing the heavy blade you have against her throat. A stab of guilt washes over you, sending a small electric shock through your chest. Slowly, you come to your senses, but the pain in your head begins to increase. Your face contorts into one of pain as you try to fight it, trying to believe that Mel is here. And you almost killed her.

You back away from her, your body trembling from the emotional and reality whiplash. Your weapon drops to the ground with a loud clatter, echoing through the hall. Your hands move to your head as the pain increases. The room begins to spin, sending you stumbling back as you try to right your bearings. Pained cries leave your lips, both from the physical pain and emotional overwhelm. Tears streak down your cheeks, both from pain and intense anguish. You can’t bring yourself to look at her again, backing away from her. You glance down at the armor you’re clad in, noticing the blood staining the metal and soaking it the cloth.

A soft hand rests on your shoulder, pulling you back to the present. You flinch from her touch, backing away from her yet again. Your eyes meet hers, wide with fear and anguish as you finally see her face. The pain in your head is intense, making it hard to focus. Mel just takes another couple steps to you, placing both of her hands on each side of your face.

“My Dove…” She murmurs softly, her eyes taking in your physical and mental torment. “It’s okay, I’m here. I’ve got you.”

She presses her forehead against yours, her eyes closing softly. You lean into her touch, your body losing the strength to continue with your orders from Ambessa. It’s like a filter has been removed from your mind, or maybe placed in to filter out the filth that’s been clouding your mind. Everything is still confusing, you’re still trying to piece together what you’ve just done, what you’ve been seeing, acting upon.

A choked sob leaves your throat, your knees becoming weak under her touch. The way she so quickly forgives you. Her arms wrap around you, pulling you against her as you cry, apologies tumbling from your mouth as you cling to her.

“Its okay, Dove.” She reassures you, her voice soft, smooth like silk. “You weren’t in control. It wasn’t you.”

You try to compose yourself, remembering the war that’s happening outside. After a few moments, you pull back, gazing at her, taking in the golden markings that adorn her skin. Your hand comes up to cup her cheek, your thumb gently stroking across her skin, tracing over the gold.

“I can’t believe you’re really here…” You murmur softly, your voice threatening to break again.

“I’m here, Y/N,” she reaffirms to you, giving you a small squeeze to emphasize her statement. “I always will be.”

“We can’t stay here.” You speak again, pulling back from her, albeit reluctantly.

“I know.” She replies solemnly. “We have to stop Viktor from getting to the Hexgates.”

“Yeah,” you confirm quietly.

She takes a step towards you, not allowing you to pull away from her.

“He’s not in the sphere.” You reveal to her, trying to remember the flashes of Ambessa’s plans. “It’s a diversion.”

“Then where is he? How is he getting to the Hexgates?” She asks, concern evident in her tone.
“I don’t know, exactly.” You admit, shaking your head. “I’m sorry, I wish I could be of more help to you.”

“Don’t apologize,” she brings a hand to your cheek again, gently guiding you to look at her again. “You can only do what you can.”

••• ••• •••

The telltale sound of a rifle firing rings from the other side of the door. There’s a glow about Mel, a physical manifestation of her magic. The large doors of the building swing open as Mel approaches them, sunlight bathing the hall in its warmth. She approaches Ambessa, lowering her hood.

You look out at the terrace from behind her, seeing Caitlyn kneeling on the ground, a body collapsed right next to her. The slew of Noxian soldiers awaiting Ambessa’s orders, red flags waving in the wind.

“If you care for me at all, spare their lives.” Mel speaks as she strides out onto the terrace of the building. “There is nothing to gain from this senseless bloodshed!”

Ambessa rolls her eyes at Mel’s appearance. “Still a fox.” She scoffs before calling out to her soldiers.

Her soldiers weapons raise, broad shields protecting their bodies. Mel glances around at the army before her. A distant approaching sound of music echos through the city, an airship rounding a corner and setting off explosions as it enters the airspace. People on hoverboards launch themselves from the craft, descending on the soldiers. Everyone’s attentions are on the cacophony above.

“Fire!” Ambessa orders, taking a swing at the Firelights as they swoop in from above.

Chaos erupts as the soldiers follow her orders, attacking the firelights as they close in. Some of the soldiers engage Mel and yourself, the two of you defending yourselves against the soldiers. The scuffle ends quickly, however. The ground shakes as a large block slams into the cocoon like sphere, smashing it into pieces. You immediately rush over to Mel, using your wings to wrap around her to shield her from the blast. Mel also shields the two of you from the debris with her magic, a golden shield appearing between the two of you and the impact. Once the dust settles, you step back from her, glancing between the diversion and Ambessa.

Ambessa smirks at the two of you, glancing at Caitlyn’s fallen face. Her soldiers move to create a ring around you, a sort of battle ring.

“Mother, look at the price of your ambition.” Mel speaks again, glancing around at the chaos of the city, taking another step forward. “You’ve sacrificed everything. Rictus, Kino, the city I built for this family.”

“If it was for us, you wouldn’t have fought me.” Ambessa sneers at her.

Mel scoffs at her mother. “You are no Medarda.”

“You remember your—“

A sudden blow from Caitlyn cuts Ambessa’s response off. “Shut up and fight!”

Caitlyn grabs an unattended spear from the ground, readying herself to take on the warlord. Without words, Ambessa picks up her own spear before launching it at Caitlyn. Mel deflects the spear with her magic, the weapon ricocheting off the shield and embedding itself into one of the Noxian soldiers surrounding the terrace. Ambessa doesn’t wait before sending her foot into Caitlyn, breaking the hilt of her spear and sending her stumbling back. She puts on her own helmet, preparing for a fight against the three of you. Between Mel’s Magic and Caitlyn’s desperation, Ambessa continues to hold her own. Caitlyn and Mel trade attacks, but are unable to do much against the warlord. Mel’s magic just gets absorbed by runic stones wrapped around Ambessa’s arm. The woman fights through a slash to her leg by Caitlyn, easily taking the younger woman down. Mel moves in for a close quarters attack, still using her magic against her to almost no effect.

You stalk around the other side of Ambessa, waiting for a good moment to strike. While she’s distracted with Mel and Caitlyn, you quickly move in, raising your own weapon to take a slash at her. She senses your attack, pushing Mel back before turning her attention to you and colliding with you, flipping you over her shoulder. Her attention is divided by the three of you, but she’s good at staying on top of your movements. You scramble to your feet again, ignoring the searing pain in your abdomen, beating your wings and going in for another attack, this time from above.
Ambessa flips Caitlyn onto the ground again, using her stones to simultaneously block another magical attack from Mel. Before you can land a hit on the warlord, she dodges, grabbing one of your wings, and throws you to the ground once more. She doesn’t let go, bringing her foot down on it with a snap. She lets out a smug scoff at your cries of pain, enjoying the way you remain somewhat under her control, even if you’ve broken through the mental force of it. She sends her boot into the side of your head, finally dropping your wing at the dazed expression on your face. She stalks towards Caitlyn, who grabs a broken spear. She moves in for her own attack, but Ambessa quickly reverses the roles, holding the blade dangerously close to Caitlyn’s face. A golden shield tries to prevent the the blade from touching Caitlyn, but in the end, Ambessa’s blade hits his mark, slicing through Caitlyn’s face.

Ambessa stands, triumphant over Caitlyn as she watches the blood gush from her face and onto the ground. She pulls her mask off.

“You fought well, child.” She speaks down to her, watching the blood drip from Caitlyn’s eye.

Her eyes finally catch the small blade in Caitlyn’s hand, the stones on the ground, and it dawns on her.

“Now!” Caitlyn shouts back to Mel.

You glance from your dazed position, over to see Mel rise from the ground, her eyes boring into her mother’s.

“A wolf has no mercy.” She speaks, her hand landing on a thick necklace.

Your vision begins to fade in and out, the combination of the pain and injuries you’ve sustained beginning to take a toll on you. You try to rise, your strength sapped from you from the fight. Pain shoots through your wing. It’s bent at an angle it shouldn’t bend in, in an area that doesn’t bend. Your chest heaves at the pain and exhaustion, but your grit through it, focusing on folding your wings and sealing them back in the ink of your back tattoo. It’s an agonizing process with the damage done to your wing. You no longer feel the pain in your wing, but in the ink embedded in your skin where they’re stored.

When you finally gain the strength to sit up a bit, you look over to see Mel approach her mother. She catches the taller woman, gently bringing her down to the ground and cradling her in her lap. It’s hard to watch. Despite the life the woman had led, she was still Mel’s mother.

You force yourself to your feet, pushing past the pain of a multitude of injuries. As the adrenaline wears off, the pain becomes more pronounced, even revealing injuries you hadn’t realized you’d sustained. You limp over to Mel, lowering yourself to your knees at her side. Your hand rests softly on her shoulder, a small gesture of comfort if she’ll accept it.

That’s when the strings from above latch themselves to every single person, Noxian, Piltovian, Zaunite. Linking them— you— to the Arcane, to Viktor. It feels almost identical to what Singed had done to you, the magic of the arcane flowing almost the same as the Shimmer in your veins.

It doesn’t last long, an explosion from the top of the Hexgates sounds off. The strings are destroyed, dropping everyone back to the ground.

It aggravates your wounds again, your blood pooling on the ground more than before. The feeling of soft hands on your face and shoulder encourage you to open your eyes. You meet Mel’s eyes, concern etched into her features. She looks over your injuries, wincing at the sight of you all beaten up, your blood pooling on the ground beneath you.

You raise a shaky hand to rest on one of her wrists, your fingers gently wrapping around her. She can see the pain in your eyes, and you hers.

“I’m okay…” You try to reassure her, forcing a small smile. “Are you… are you okay?”

You look over her for any injuries of her own before she guides your face back to look at her.
“I’m unharmed.” She replies softly.

“Mel… I…” You try to speak, but you’re almost at a loss for words.

Her thumb brushes across your cheek, wiping away a stray tear.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry about your mother…” You finally speak, leaning into her touch, your eyes closing again.

“Don’t be.” She responds, her voice soft but firm.

She doesn’t say anything more. She just pulls you closer to her, embracing you gently.

[taybatwo2]

G3 Hissfits Review Part 1

Guess what came in today??? My Hissfits three pack!

The box is large, 22”x12” and was 75 bucks…which is a lot (25 for each doll) and Entertainment Earth wanted another 20 for shipping (so I might have preordered a cute little 3.75” Clone Trooper Rex figure to get free shipping).

These dolls had their stock photos dropped a bit over a year ago and I guess were just sitting in a warehouse while Mattel figured out what to do with them????? I dunno why they took so long to come out, but I’m glad they were not all canceled and disposed of.

It has some little Skullettes detailed around the outside of the box.

Here is the corner illustration done by Darko.

The back of the box. That’s a huge illustration and looks really cool. It has some of their accessories hidden about and Amped Up Frankie’s accessories in the far left-hand book shelf. Perhaps they’re all playing for the Monster Ball?

Here is the UPC for anyone who needs it. These are supposed to be available on misc. sellers/shops: like Entertainment Earth and Big Lots and NOT Amazon, Walmart, Target or even Mattel Creations. Which seems like an odd choice (I wonder what their reasoning was behind it?).

Here is a close up of their blurb on the back of the box. I do find it funny that Toralei was known to be REALLY bad at singing in G1 and G3 just RAN the other way with that.

Here are the ghoul’s with the plastic removed. There was A TON of rubber bands holding them all in. They look good in the package, but there is so much plastic waste.

more under the cut

Close-up of G3 Meowlody’s face while still strapped down. Meowlody has white hair (I remember who is who by: turning her name’s first letter “m” upside down and it looks like a “w” for “white hair”).

Mine has her eyes slightly printed up too high, some white paint dropped across her right eye, and her left cheek stripes have some paint missing (you can’t tell from his photo).

She has the biggest grin out of the werecat twins and Toralei. Her heterochromia is opposite of her twin and she has purple leopard print eyeshadow. Her hair feels like saran.

My Toralei looks pretty good, but has a small lip smudge on her upper lip. I love her eyeshadow!!! Even her bright pink lips have grown on me. Her leopard rosettes are a mix of purple (Meowlody) and pink (Purrsephone).

She has almost-neon orange hair (with black, baby pink, and purple streaks). I’m pretty sure it is all saran.

And my FAVORITE, Purrsephone (turn her name’s first letter “p” upside down and it looks like a “b” for “black hair” and that’s how I remember this is Purrsephone). I like her sculpted eyelids, her full upper lips, her hair color blend *mwah!* Mine does have a spot of red paint on the bottom of her cat nose. She has pink leopard spots on the opposite side of her face as her sister.

I’m also certain she has saran hair.

They come with a ton of little accessories “to help them get ready for the show.” Even merch to sell after the show too!!

After spending about 30 minutes freeing everything from their prison and running a metal comb through their hair (they will need to be washed with water, Dawn dish soap, and some conditioner…maybe (carefully) straight iron their hair later).

I forgot to take a full body photo of Toralei before I started removing pieces. Whoops!

Here is her crown piece. It wraps around both ears and should still hold its place fairly well even after I removed the plastic stays and rubberband (it was really wrapped around it) holding it in.

Here she is without her golden crown. I might like it better off.

Her eye make-up is her two cousins’ mixed together. Oh, by the way G3 Purrsephone and Meowlody are G3 Toralei’s cousins, not just her beasties.

The leopard print reminds me of SDCC DC Super Hero Girl’s Cheetah.

Her tail tambourine (I love how clever they were in its paw-like design) also stays on her tail pretty well.

Here are her plastic dress pieces. They have some nice details to them (lots of studs, chains, and the Hissfits cat head logo) and as always, could look even more elevated with some paint. Be warned that the gold chest piece instantly wants to keep detaching itself from the skirt and shoulder pieces after you remove the rubber bands.

I LOVE her gloves (look at the little printed seams and how they make it look like there are seperate holes for her fingers). My Core G3 Toralei will be stealing them. Mine even come off by sliding over the hands (you do not necessarily need to remove the whole hand to get them off).

Here are her MASSIVE boots. They are slit all the way down the back and have some colored in details. I’m not sure if I like purple AND pink AND red being Toralei’s new colors, but these shoes look great.

Here are the bottoms (chains on the ball of the feet and a cat scratching post making the heel).

A better look at her saran hair blend. It’s really growing on me. I was just going to clean her up, steal her stock and resell the base doll. But I am heavily rethinking it.

Here she is in her outfit sans all the plastic bits. It is all attached. The main shirt/shorts have a sparkly foil look to them and her skirt has a lovely gold to magenta foil print.

And the back. Now let’s jump ahead to look at some differences between the werecat’s bodies.

Toralei has the exact same body mold as G3 Clawdeen, and the werecat twins have the same body as G3 Cleo (sans the bandages).

They didn’t give the werecat twins sharp toe claws like Toralei and Clawdeen. :( Booo!

Their ears look a bit different too (Toralei has notches in the bottom of her ears and Purrsephone/Meowlody don’t).

And for funsies. Here are all the G3 werecats’ body types for comparison (I’m still in the middle of micro-braiding my Catty’s hair, so ignore her bad hair day).

In part 2 I’ll delve more into the werecat twins.

[babiebom]

HATE THE TIME LORDS WTF

I’m watching the end of time (SPOILERS)

THEY SEEM LIKE SUCH ASSHOLES

Like knowing what we know about the timeless child and everything they’re the WORST

Like sorry to the tenth doctor I would’ve actually shot the time lord president without hesitation the second he said “you are diseased…be it a disease of our own creation” to the master

Like yeah I know he doesn’t kill the master but the whole pointing the gun at him I’m like ABSOLUTELY NOT

Like they actually made me feel bad for him…for BOTH of them. Like what do the time lord council do other than BE ASSHOLES? Given I haven’t seen original who idk what they do there but I DISLIKE THEM SO MUCH actually all they do is use people

I know he’s killed people and been an absolute menace and a monster but like :( they did this to him

Also I think it would’ve been really funny if everyone had his face but their normal bodies. So it’s the masters face and like tiddies if he was a woman or something. Like it’s literally just his face in their bodies instead of turning into him completely. Idk why it would be funnier to me.

Also him giving his life to save wilf makes me CRY like I’ve never seen the specials before bc I could never find where to watch them. Also this whole tantrum he’s throwing is throwing me off like BROTHER he honestly just saved someone and you’re throwing this tantrum IN FRONT OF HIM my feelings would be hurt but at the same time I understand because I too would throw a tantrum if I had to die

But maybe it’s bc I don’t really like hurting peoples feelings that I just would be like DAMN guess I’m gone then bc I wouldn’t like to hurt Wilfs feelings like when he says “you’re unimportant” like I KNOW he is just upset but PLEASE MY FEELINGS SIR.

Also THIS IS HOW IM FINDING OUT THIS IS HOW HE REGENERATES INTO ELEVEN???????????the website I watch these on DOESNT have any of the specials so I’ve had to go searching for them and WOWOWOWOWW

also I hate Martha and Mickey together I preferred her with the Milligan man. Like yes they’re cute together but I would’ve like her to stay with dude MISSGIRLPAYATTENTION nvm

He’s saving people?but in a sad way?

He’s staring at Jack??? Oh he’s hooking him up with someone OH ALONSY ALONSO OH

oh it’s miss nurse from the family of blood. I hate those episodes. WaS sHe hApPy iN tHe EnD? FUCK OFF

CUTE I DIDNT KNOW WE GOT TO SEE DONNA GET MARRIED OMFG

who is Heffery? Is that Donna’s dad? Bc if it is THATS SO CUTE BUT SAD?????THEY HADA WEDDING IN A GRAVEYARD?

oh it’s a church with a graveyard

Kinda poetic but OOF ghosties scare me also SAD BYEBYE FOCTOR

oh god it’s rose again

BUT ITS THE ORIGINAL ROSE I LOVE HER

THIS IS WHERE THE ICONIC GIF COMES FROM??????????

I FORGOT IT WAS 2005 IM LITERALLY 4 WHEN ALL THATS HAPPENING? (The first series I mean)

like it’s weird to think about where you would be in time in the universe during doctor who

Like I would literally be a child in Texas who probably missed EVERYTHING because who would destroy TEXAS? California I get but unless they realize how big Texas is they’d go for like Washington or something

AN OOD?

their faces are icky but they’re also cute? I love them except for when they’re evil <3

I also always read the Police public call Box as “police the box” and idky my brain is like NAUR the LETTERS ARE TOO CLOSE TOGETHER AND SMALLER IT MUST SAY THE???????

Goodbye ten I can’t believe that this is the first time I’m seeing him regenerate. I literally went through the entirety of nuwho and haven’t seen the Specials omfg. OH NAUR HE DOESNT WANNA GO PLS.

Omfg you destroy the tardis every time so rude HELLO ELEVEN MY LOVE HIS VOICE IS SO SQUEAKY I LOVE HIM

[foogadooga]

rant about sams

the sams fandom needs to stop harassing people (rant)

(TW: mentioned abuse, harassment, suicide, murder almost all mentions of horrible things come from the show itself not the fandom)

so to the sams fandom, stop harassing people. it’s not just shadow but I notice it with other things in the fandom. you like old moon? your treated like a monster. you don’t like lunar? why not? you point out suns bad behavior? it’s trauma, get over it.

on top of that the fan creations scare me. particularly the ship. the fact that 9/10 relationships in this fandom are sibling relationships should say why ship them is inappropriate. Lumini? Fine! Monty/moni x earth? Perfectly fine! Canon! Lunar x moon? THEIR BROTHERS! I even saw eclipse x lunar! Like why?? one of the more popular ships in this fandom is Solar x moon, and yeah their not blood related but they still consider each other siblings, and then sun x bloodmoon? Like yes, sun killing bloodmoon and bloodmoon torturing sun and his family? That’s some strong chemistry right there

Speaking of bloodmoon, the bloodmoon fans are out of control Sometimes. I love bloodmoon too, he’s probably my secon favorite character but let’s be realistic. Bloodmoon was dealt a horrid set of cards in life, he was built to hurt people and no one wanted to help, he’s been used and abused by everyone in the show, few are innocent in bloodmoons case. But will he be redeemed? Of course not! He doest’t want help anymore! Maybe before their death they had a shot but not now. hes killed tons of people and makes a game out this, he refuses to get better but the fandom still claims his innocence.

Speaking of characters that can’t do any wrong in the fandoms eyes, sun. He killed a child, gaslite and emotionally abused the old moon until moon thought the only way to make himself better was the die and hope he came back and was good enough, he threatened lunar, he pressured earth into driving and put her in very dangerous situations and probably other stuff, and yet we pass it off as trauma? When does trauma stop making it fine? It sure as hell wasn’t when moon hit sun.

And speaking of moon, the moon haters are crazy. i stand by the fact I prefer old moon, and I stand by the idea that the only reason moon was killed was because moon could do anything and the fandom would hate him for it. Im not excusing the fact moon hit sun during their fight episode, but i feel like the fandom needs to step back and realize sun was ALSO a problem. moon was getting better and was doing everything to get better and I know that doesn’t take it away, but the fandom needs to chill. Moon restraining sun after he killed bloodmoon was 100% acceptable. Sun was a danger to those around him and not listening to reason. the fandom was making all of these things like “how would sun charge, how would sun do this, or that” claims that made them more mad when no one ever said anything about those things.

Ruin too. He gets on my last nerve. I hate the way he treated bloodmoon, and then got redeemed. he was so creepy. I don’t have much to say about him but he makes me so mad.

[lukas-dark-miracles]

Lukas Inspiration || Poetry weaving

"Lukas didn’t want to be a monster - although now he supposed that was his role in the stories now. If he was to be a part of a bigger plan, he shouldn’t have cared so much for a human who he didn’t know the name of. He should have let her die. He was supposed to further a new gospel of darkness, and show that there was harmony there. He was supposed to play a role and maybe out of kindness change her - but a part of him couldn’t. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t make her give up the choice and he couldn’t let her just die without trying. " From Jaws

" 'We need to show them the dark, then? People can be saved if we show them the dark?' Lukas said unsurely - like a small child trying to understand mortality. It almost made Lizzie smile - the fact that he was so simple to think that anyone would be saved.

'Exactly that, little mouse,'She said, watching him flinch slightly at the nickname. He must have remembered her whispering that when she was stabbing him. Pity she liked that endearment. 'Because we cannot show them through the light, we will show them through the dark. We will have people’s worse and not try to fix them but accept them. We will let them do their worst to test the light, and when it becomes a standstill, we will know that we were right.' " From A New Gospel

"He was used to that question by now, and carefully he had an answer that had happened quite organically after probing people on what they wanted in a group. It was actually pretty easy to cultivate a sense of belonging when you’re thinking of why others might feel alone." From Come with me Now

"Lukas wasn’t sure why he kept doing this, sitting outside in the courtyard of the Church he once ran. Perhaps part of him did it instinctually, he had on many occasions sat out here after all. It was a perfect place to contemplate everything, the good and the bad. Maybe it also reminded him of those twilights with his Sire, where she wasn’t so scary. The gardens of a church had been a place of peace - the last time he had peace. So he sat there quietly thinking, his hands clutching each other in a pretend version of a prayer, his head bowed for prayers he no longer thought God could hear. 

Maybe this just proved  he actually wanted to pray and turn to the light, but he was already a monster. He was chosen for this after all. Salvation for Lukas could only be through the darkness, so he should stop trying to hear the choirs from inside the church. He should stop trying to hold a rosary closely. He should move from his spot, even if just being near the old church gave him comfort. He didn’t need it anymore, and more importantly he didn’t deserve it. Surely though he could stay in the garden outside. After all, Eden was the place where good and evil were hand and hand until it tipped. Surely the snake had the same amount of rights to wander the place as did the rest of creations." From In the Garden of Good and Evil

" Lukas wasn’t exactly sure what was going on with the vampire in front of him but he knew well enough that people were willing to die for a lot of things. He stilled his face, in a similar way he had the day he died not wanting to set off whatever that was in the other. She reminded him a lot of his sire and he wasn’t quite sure if that was a survivable thing." From a Comforting Face

"'I don’t think most of the people here are going to live if someone doesn’t kill me. If I don’t kill them She will and I can’t stand to see the blood again. I keep asking God to kill me and he hasn’t, so everyone’s going to die and the only thing I can do is kill them before she tortures them in front of me again. No one is going to agree to go through this hell or be a puppet. I hate Her and her games,' Lukas said horrified, his eyes wide as the words seemed to pull from him before he could stop them. He hadn’t meant to say that and as soon as he did his mouth clenched. 'What exactly did you just do to me? What was that?” His voice was harsh, arms crossed as he felt the burns on his hands itch. He didn’t like thinking about this, and he didn’t know why it was pulled from him. " From Confessions in the Dark.

"He really was beautiful, and Lukas couldn’t help how his eyes widened and he paused. He only seemed to remember to breathe when Cassius stepped back slightly arm still wrapped around him as Lukas’s brain tried to catch up with what was being said and implied. The smile seemed too lovely to be for him, and part of him wanted to step back afraid of the last beautiful person that had turned him into a monster. While he had only wanted to be Lizzie’s friend, this close he wasn’t sure if he wanted to be Cassius’s. Not when he was this close to him. Hell -  he didn’t want to be, and he really didn’t know what to do with that information. So, he just looked for a moment, and then realizing that he did need to speak if only for the other’s sake he tried to form words. Clunky and not at all possessing the confidence of a former preacher he whispered, 'I don’t want you to let me go. I really don’t. That’s dangerous, Cassius.'" From a Totally Normal Date

Credits (in order) @mortemoppetere @realmackross @nightmaretist @muertarte @disinfernus @singdreamchild

Quotes (x)

[wito-chan-bla-bla]

Detection V

Have you been waiting? Yes! Did you ask? Yes! Did you pray? Well, I don't know, but anyway! Have fun reading! (Ha-ha...)

The words "canyon" and "cocoa" are so funny

Previous part (04)

Next part (06)

~

You feel a murderous aura from Kalego, but you also feel something similar from the demon ahead.

–Why is Kalego-sensei here? I want to spend my weekend with Iruma-sama without any extra demons.

–Me too, me too! Although I'm glad to see (Y/N)-san! Maybe only (Y/N)-san will stay with us?

–S-sorry, friends, – Iruma swallows. – Grandpa just wouldn't let me go unattended. And so it turned out… that Kalego-sensei and (Y/N)-san were chosen.

–I swear, I will protect you, Iruma-sama, even at the cost of my life! So we can go by ourselves!

–Yes, yes, I will also protect you, Iruma-chi! – Clara hangs on her friend, giggling.

–I'm sorry, but we can't leave, – you say, trying to smooth things over. – This is an order from the director, and we cannot disobey it. Don't worry, we won't stop you from having fun!

–How can I have fun when there are strangers next to Iruma-sama who are not part of his circle of "friends"?!

–Kalego-sensei has a heavy look. Fue-e-e, fue-e-e!

–So, silence! – Naberius growls. – I'm not happy about what's happening myself. So move your legs faster, the sooner we start, the sooner I'll get my well-deserved day off back!

And everyone starts moving towards the doors, Alice hugs his friend by the shoulders and squints at your demon.

So, Iruma recently learned from his energetic friend that there is a special place where you can play with friends, fight in dungeons, collect treasures, and so on. It's like a regular computer game, only in real life. And, of course, the director's grandson wanted to go and have fun with friends. And, of course, you were sent to monitor him in order to protect and treat him in case of anything. Kalego was also sent... to his regret.

So now you, Naberius, Iruma, Clara and Alice are going to play some kind of game. And as far as you can tell from the face of the only girl in the company, it will last all day.

At least I won't train! You mumble happily, to which Kalego only hisses.

–I could have gone to the opera or bought a new cactus pot, but I ended up stuck here.

–Don't you want to spend some time with me? – you're trying to calm him down.

–I want to. The problem is that my students are here, who are bothering me even more than usual!..

–Hello, I'm Clara Valac! I called you and asked you to sign us up! – meanwhile, the girl slaps her hand on the counter and looks at the employee of the game center.

–Greetings, Clara-san! Are these your companions you were talking about? – he looks around at the young demons.

–Yes! And also that disgruntled uncle from behind and a beautiful girl.

–I'm going to strangle someone today…

–Calm down, Kalego-kun, – you pat him on the shoulder. – It's not that bad, right?..

–If I kill someone today, it really won't be that bad.

–L-let's do without it…

He looks into your eyes with such a look that you involuntarily turn away.

–Okay, I've signed you up, – the employee says in the meantime. – Will the escorts also play?

–Will it be possible to hit someone there?

–Based on the scenario, but I think... yes. Monsters appear in most dungeons, so…

–Then I'm participating.

–I can't let you spoil Iruma-sama's vacation!

–Don't worry, Alice. After all, I came here to protect him, so no problem.

–Will the monsters be real? – you ask, bending down to stroke the contented girl.

–Not really. I think it's worth explaining the principle of our work in order to better convey my idea – the employee smiles at you. – The fact is that our dungeons are a mixture of creation magic, illusion magic and randomness. Roughly speaking, we create a certain environment, and the magic of illusion complements the scenario and creates the necessary objects. But it just so happens that it is so strong that you will feel everything around you as reality. Thus, if you get a bite from a monster, then the wound will be real, but the monster itself is not really.

Oh, reminds me of VR. You nod. I don't mind participating. The main thing is not to return to childhood and not to interfere with children's fun…

–What are the scenarios? – Asmodeus asks, looking around the proposed magazine. – What would you like, Iruma-sama?

–Um, I don't know, – the boy shrugs, looking through the sentences with his eyes. – Perhaps we should start with something simple so that we don't have any difficulties…

–We will take the most hard difficulty.

–Wh-what?! – you jump up and stare at Kalego with all your eyes.

–What? – he's grinning at you and the kids. – Did you come here with me to beat low-ranked monsters? If you really want to have fun, then so that you will remember forever. And wasn't your class bragging about their ranks in front of the whole school?..

–I still don't think that children should start with such tests…

–I agree!

–Al-lice-kun?!

If I can protect Iruma-sama in a dangerous dungeon, I will prove to him that I am the best demon in place of his lifelong guardian!

–Azz-azz is right! It sounds fun!

–T-then I don't mind either! And I just wanted to try some new spells, – Iruma looks at his ring with shining eyes.

You can only sigh and be glad that you will be protected... or rather, hope that you will be protected.

So, it takes fifteen minutes to prepare such a complex dungeon. You are sitting in a cafe, looking at an empty glass in which there was tea. The children were having fun at the next table, stuffing their bellies with food before the game.

–Are you all right? – you reach out and touch his fingers with your own. – You look more tired than usual.

–I'm just about to start an Evil Cycle.

–A-are you serious right now? Or is it a metaphor?..

–I'm serious, (Y/N).

–T-then why did Sullivan-sama send you here? What will happen to you if you become "evil"? M-more precisely... – you're turning pale. – What will happen to us?

–Calm down, I've never lost my temper, – he scratches the table with his fingernail, sighing. – So relax and think better about not dying from the monster's paw.

–You are so kind, Kalego-kun.

–I'm just your complete opposite. You know that opposites attract, right? 

You just giggle, covering your mouth with your hand. 

The little demons stop their crazy conversations, and the cafe instantly becomes quiet. You turn your head to them, and the children begin to whisper among themselves.

–They're up to something, – Naberius growls.

–Let them have fun, Kalego-kun. And we'll be going soon.

–What do you think is between them? When I was at a girls' meeting, we talked about how guys look at girls they love…

–What-what kind of meeting were you at? –  Alice frowns.

–It's a secret! – Clara raises her hand and slaps the table with her palm. – In short! I think (Y/N)-san loves Kalego-sensei and is doing shpuke-puke with him!

–What's that supposed to mean?!

–I do not know, but you still understand what I'm talking about, right?

–You mean that they kiss?

–Ir-ruma-sama!

–Wh-what?! There's nothing wrong with that! – the boy blushes a little. – And what's the difference? The main thing is that Kalego-sensei is happy! – then it's quieter: – Because that way he will be kinder to us.

Valac suddenly starts giggling. Asmodeus flicks her forehead.

–Don't even think about doing something that will prevent Iruma-sama from having fun!

–Okay, okay, Azz-azz,  – she shows him the tongue.

And now everything is ready, you get up and go with Clara, who clung to your hand, to the right room.

–Since you chose to stay all day, the dungeon generates a story endlessly. If you want to take a break or stop, say "blood and apples."

–And why is that?.. – you are interested.

–Because the word generator chose these two subjects, – you get the answer with a quiet chuckle.

The employee conducts another briefing, which you are already listening to more carefully than the previous one. The children, as you thought, are jumping up and down impatiently. The demon working here offers to change into more comfortable clothes, but everyone is fine.

It looks like AI. You involuntarily smile and admire the scenery. I already like it here.

And so you walk through the door and find yourself in a completely dark room, not seeing anything, not even your own hands. You feel the hot breath of your demon over your shoulder and shudder when he puts his head on your shoulder.

But then a bright light comes on, you are almost blinded. There is a huge shopping area in front of you, and Clara instantly runs to communicate with other demons, who, to her surprise, even respond to her.

You walk with the children forward to the building that says "magic guild". Small children laugh, hold hands and run forward, you and Kalego slowly go after them.

–How does it feel? – you turn your head to Naberius.

–It's such a dense crowd here, – he chuckles. – I'd like to go fight monsters as soon as possible.

After a long half hour, you find yourself outside the city, looking around the big doors. Alice resolutely opens them and goes inside, calling for fire to light the road. Kalego looks even more displeased, and you gently interlace your fingers with his. The demon exhales, turns his head to you and smiles for the first time that day, his mood has clearly become a little better.

You watch children fight monsters by standing up and supporting them with screams. On your side is a bag with medicines that you bought in the city where you appeared at the very beginning. Naberius holds a torch in his hand and shouts to his students to fight more seriously.

(From his words, Asmodeus starts swearing and destroys all enemies in a few seconds).

You descend lower and lower into the dungeon, looking for the "head of the cult" who needs to be caught or killed. Monsters are getting stronger and stronger, gradually demons are switching to cold weapons, so as not to lose all mana. Iruma brandishes a sword, Alice wields a spear, and Clara swings fluffy rustling balls, supporting her friends.

–Don't you want to help them? – you ask Kalego, who made the torch hang in the air nearby, and the demon himself is reading some book.

–It will be a great workout for them. And I'm still here against my will, so I'm not going to do anything other than the necessary "minimum"

–Then I'll go and help them, – your eyes begin to shine a little. – As a child, I always wanted to fight monsters.

–It's not as romantic and fun as you think, – your hand is squeezed harder.

–Don't worry, I'll come back to you, – you stroke his skin with your thumb. – And you will always protect me if something happens, won't you?

Naberius purses his lips, then exhales and, unnoticed by the children, rubs his nose against your cheek.

–Please don't get too many wounds.

–Whatever you say, – you give him a thumbs up and run forward, shouting: – Clara-chan, call me a sword, please!

And five minutes later the fight is over, you are sitting under the destroying gaze of your demon while singing Valac slaps glitter patches on your wounds.

–We did a great job! Iruma-sama, you were great, as always!

–You also did a great job, Alice! Give me five!

Demon eyes can be used instead of spotlights. A young aristocrat laughs happily, slapping his palm against the palm of a man, and a girl instantly joins them.

While the children are cheering, you return to Kalego, who uses a healing spell to restore you.

You keep walking until Clara starts whimpering, saying that her legs hurt. Then you suggest taking a short break, and the girl with a happy squeal begins to take snacks out of her pockets.

–I suggest you play! – says the demon when you sit around the fire and eat dried fruit. – Hide-and-seek in the dark! We take a lantern, – the object immediately turns out to be in her hands, dimly illuminating the cave around, – and look for each other in the rooms that we have already cleared of monsters!

–Just don't go too far, so as not to get lost, – you say.

–OK, (Y/N)-san! – the girl gives you a playful salute and walks away with her friends.

You immediately fall headfirst into the lap of the demon continuing to read, giggling. Naberius raises an eyebrow questioningly.

–I've always wanted to lie on someone's lap. Although... move over, I'm uncomfortable.

–And now you're complaining about my knees?

–Yes. Come on, move.

And so you arrange yourself the way you need, but, unfortunately, happiness does not last long. The children are coming back, happy but tired. Demons suddenly fall asleep, and you look in surprise first at them, and then at Kalego.

–Is that... okay?

–For demons, yes, I don't know about your kind. They restore mana, – your lover explains. – Sleep is the most effective way to regain lost energy. Leave them alone for twenty minutes, and they will be ready to fight after that almost as much as in the beginning.

–Do you have a watch? I don't want us to sit here for too long... oh, and I also need to pour mana into Iruma-kun's ring...

–I'll do it when he wakes up. Now just come here.

You smile when the demon slaps his knees. You find yourself with your head on your "pillow" again, ready to take a nap too.

Suddenly something sharp touches your cheek, you open one eye and see a familiar nail. Reaching out, you interlace your fingers with your beloved demon, press his palm to your lips and begin to doze.

Naberius reads for a while, then puts the book down and looks at (Y/N) for a few minutes. He smiles happily, allowing himself to relax, listens to the quiet breathing, tries to catch the real smell of his person. The cold skin of the palm feels something warm: breathing and someone else's touch.

Kalego involuntarily wonders if it is possible to arrange a date somewhere here. It would be a great opportunity to arrange a day that you will never forget.

If I remember correctly, you can make a marriage proposal here. Maybe a date can be arranged here too. He looks around the dozing human with a quick glance. Maybe we'll get to the wedding. I wouldn't mind. For the first time I find someone who doesn't piss me off as much as the others... if you don't include Shichiro in this list, of course.

The demon grunts and slightly squeezes someone else's hand.

He sits in peace, almost not feeling someone else's presence. For him, there is only the book, himself and the person he wants to protect for the rest of his life.

But nothing lasts forever. Soon the children wake up by themselves, you are woken up by a loud scream from Clara, who Alice is trying to shut up, the second person's ring turns out to be full of mana, and the journey continues.

But literally in the next room there is a problem called "canyon". You and Iruma can't fly for a logical reason, Valac's wings are too small for that, so the strongest demons have to drag others to the other side. 

You are in the arms of your demon, snuggling against his chest and trying not to giggle when you hear his accelerated heartbeat. In the background, Asmodeus shouts to his friend not to kick her legs, as she may fall.

Long halls, endless rooms, but you hold Kalego by the hand, and therefore do not despair and are not afraid of anything…

Right up to this point.

–W-what are these things?!

–Crocodiles.

–I s-see! B-but why are they here?! – you are pointing at huge creatures that are much, MUCH bigger than crocodiles in the human world.

–Because it's part of a dungeon? Don't be stupid, (Y/N).

–Don't worry, (Y/N)-san, we can always fly over them, – Alice pats you soothingly on the shoulder, Naberius begins to breathe aggressively. I will be able to carry Iruma-sama-a-a-a again!..

–I'm afraid your plan won't work.

–Why is that, sensei?!

Kalego points up, and his student sighs in amazement. You don't understand, so you ask a question.

–To put it simply, these stalactites are sensitive to air movements due to the special plant growing inside the roots, which spreads its seeds with the help of wind. It can only grow in caves where there is little air flow, so stalactites instantly fall as soon as the plant feels the opportunity to spread its seeds.

–So we won't fly over? M-m-m, then we'll have to fight. Are you ready, children?

–Ah, crocodiles!  – Clara screams and jumps on the adult's back. This adult is not you.

–Get off me! Immediately!

–I'm afraid of crocodiles, Eggie-sensei!

–Don't call me that!

–By the way, I'm also afraid of crocodiles. Clara-chan, move.

And you find yourself hanging on your favorite demon, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and legs around his waist so as not to fall. Valac screams when monsters appear from under the water, and Alice on one knee offers Iruma her back.

–Arch, okay! The sooner we start, the sooner we'll finish!

You feel the negative energy gathering around Kalego. The demon easily holds you and the girl on himself, going forward purposefully and confidently.

Crocodiles immediately swim up and start clapping their mouths, in this sound you hear the phrase "our food has come". You cling even more tightly to Naberius.

And Kalego doesn't stop. He doesn't even slow down to cast a spell. He simply raises his foot high enough to put it on the crocodile's "nose" and push hard, pushing the animal into the water. The creature tries to resist, but the demon with a dissatisfied face begins to walk on it like on a carpet. The rest of the monsters that tried to resist or bite were waiting for either kicks, or the most creepy look, a frightening aura and a quiet and calm saying: "If you dare to open your mouth at me, I will turn you into fertilizer for cacti." 

(Meanwhile, Alice was just passing between the trembling and frightened crocodiles, carrying his close friend on his back).

The demon poked the crocodile in the belly with his fingernail, lightning illuminated the cave for a second, and then the monster fell into the water, raising a wave that, as if also frightened, did not reach Kalego and Clara.

When the big monster boss obviously appeared from behind, Kalego didn't even use his clan's magic. He turned to the creature and said through his teeth,

"You are so weak that using Cerberion on you would be a waste."

When you find yourself on the other side, Valac giggles slyly and abruptly moves her teacher's head forward, which is why he almost kisses you on the lips. Your face so close to his that it calms Naberius, that's just what his student did infuriates much more…

–And what did you try to do, Clara Valac?

–O-ops, the kiss didn't work out!

–What kind of kiss?!

–Clara-chan, you can't force demons to kiss each other against their will, – you quickly jump to the ground and take the girl in your arms, carrying her away from the ready to kill Kalego. – Would you like it if you were forced to kiss Kalego-kun?

–No, phew!

–At least we agree on something…

–You see. So don't do it again, please.

–OK... (Y/N)-san, – the girl mutters with puffed cheeks.

Alice and Iruma are next to you in just a minute. The demon's pants and boots are wetter, and the man is worried, but Asmodeus assures that everything is fine, that he is ready to help his master in any way, that he can easily dry his clothes with fire.

You keep walking, feeling only by the atmosphere around Kalego that he is going to kill someone today. And it won't be monsters.

I-is his Evil Cycle about to begin? I'm not ready for this!

And the more you tremble with fear of the unknown, the worse Naberius becomes.

After some fifteen minutes, during which you stopped feeling your right hand, because the demon squeezed it too hard, the company finds itself in front of another canyon, only this time there is a bridge. Iruma offers to go ahead, feeling that the head of the cult is already nearby.

The boy takes a step, and the trap is triggered. Fortunately, he manages to dodge. Unfortunately, a live rope suddenly grabs your leg, you fall, and someone starts dragging you along the ground, and then over the bridge. Kalego, distracted for a moment, looks at his hand with incomprehension and shock.

You suddenly realize that you are on the opposite side. You don't have time to get up and shake yourself off, as they lift you up and squeeze your hands hard, a knife is pressed to your neck. Many demons in robes come out of previously unseen caves. S-so this is... a "cult"?!

Kalego freezes, the book falls out of his hand. He looks with a tense and focused gaze at what is happening, but you can only feel the cold metal almost sticking into your neck. 

–We knew the guild would send someone to deal with us, – shouts the demon who took you hostage. – But you're too late, you should know that. We have already done everything to summon the Great Monster, you will not defeat us!

You can't even swallow when the knife presses even harder against your skin. 

–And the first sacrifice we will make for the glory of the Great Monster will be this woman!

That's not true, is it? I can't die in real life if I get stabbed here... but my other wounds are real, my fatigue is real! I d-don't want to die so stupidly! I h-have to… I have to call for help!

You open your mouth to shout "blood and apple", but you freeze, with your mouth open, looking at the creepy monster frozen in front of you. The knife twitches several times, and then falls out of the hand of the head of the cult.

There is a Kalego in front of you, but not your Kalego. More precisely, not at all the one you are used to meeting with a smile in the morning before work.

His nails seemed to turn into claws, merging with his fingers, his fangs became more visible. The pupils, almost invisible before, became long, thin and so dark that even the usual eye color could not hide them.

And the aura... the aura of the demon is so heavy and oppressive that you can barely breathe, much less move. It seems to you for a second that you have felt the taste of death on your tongue. You felt somehow cold, the air tastes like ozone, no, like real lightning. 

Naberius slowly, twitching, moves towards you, stretches out his hand and squeezes the wrist of the demon holding you. You hear an unpleasant crackling that sobers you up. You want to turn your head and look at the head of the cult, but your lover's left hand squeezes your body, you find yourself pressed against his chest.

–Do not turn your head if you want to preserve your psyche.

Screams of panic and pain are heard from behind, in front Alice hastily covers his friends' eyes with hishands. You are trembling, not feeling safe in your lover's arms, you are afraid to move just as when a knife was put to your neck.

"Great Monster, come and protect your slaves!.." – an inarticulate squeal, and the floor begins to shake. You squeeze the Kalego harder against your will, closing your eyes, but still seeing before that a huge monster peeking out of the canyon, similar to a surgeon's sick fantasy: many different parts of animals and monsters are connected into one terrible creature with many eyes.

Naberius turns around, and for a second you can see the corpses lying on the floor. Cowering, you hide your face in his shirt, afraid to move, afraid that the demon's anger will pass on to you. His claws are so sharp that you can feel him tearing your clothes when he squeezes your waist.

The word "Cerberion" has never sounded so creepy and frightening.

Suddenly you are moved closer to the hole in the ground, you are afraid that you will be thrown down, but you suddenly find yourself sitting on the lap of Kalego, who has called for a chair. You raise your head with an effort and look at the stern face of the demon, at his eyes full of cruelty and sadism. Even when Naberius turns to you, his gaze is full of something animal and so natural that it seems creepy.

–Cerberion will tear it apart for a long time, you will get tired of standing.

You just nod and bury your forehead in his shoulder again, looking only at the shiny buttons. You feel like you are in the hands of a tyrant who has taken over your country

You turn your head only for a second when it seems to you that everything is over, and then again you try to become smaller in the sharp embrace of Kalego, when you realize that everything just goes on and on…

At some point, you are wrapped in a long jacket and left to sit on a chair, Naberius slowly walks to the edge with his hands in his pockets and falls down. You hear the flapping of wings, then an angry scream through your teeth, and then... then everything stops.

You get up on shaky legs and get closer to the canyon, but not too close, so as not to accidentally fall down. You're almost falling backwards when Kalego suddenly appears in front of you, his wings are bigger than usual, the tips seem particularly sharp. The demon looks less evil, but just a little bit. He holds out his hand to you, and you accept it with a fast-beating heart.

Naberius is on the other side in the blink of an eye, where Asmodeus looks at him with wide eyes, covering his friends with his hands and ready to fight, even if he is scared himself.

–I hope you will be able to deliver the reward to the guild yourself. Blood and apples.

And you find yourself in a familiar corridor, and an employee trembles next to you, seeing a high-ranking demon in his Evil Cycle.

A pale and sweaty man tries to stay away, suggesting that you and Kalego wait for the children in a separate room. You are sitting tensely on the sofa next to Naberius, who not only doesn't speak, but doesn't even seem to blink. He stares at one point, frowns and sometimes clicks, showing dog fangs, which makes him seem even more predatory and dangerous than before.

When Iruma, Alice and Clara return, they shun Kalego. Fortunately, it's not for him to take them home. While the employee was giving the children a special artifact with which you can come here and continue playing the same story as today, you are dragged towards the exit without even asking if you really want to go with the demon.

Opera is standing at the entrance to the building, they already want to make a joke at the sight of their kohai, but suddenly freeze, frowning and fluffing their tail. The demon watches junior's every move with a squint and concern, you only have time to wave to the first Sullivan servant before you are dragged into the air, carrying it is unclear where.

E-even Opera-san didn't try to do anything with it. Did he really never have an Evil Cycle that even a demon like Opera-san was afraid to get into a fight once again?!

After a short journey, you are sitting in the middle of the bed belonging to Kalego, Naberius himself is sitting on a chair in the corner, his arms crossed over his chest, you feel a look that makes every cell of your body burn.

W-what should I do? What if he suddenly pounces on me? Opera-san told me that they almost destroyed the village during their Evil Cycle, w-what will happen to me if Kalego-kun suddenly attacks me and decides to... devour me alive?!

You swallow and open your hands, nervously stretching out:

–Kalego-ku-u-un, come here! I'll hug you!

The demon slowly stands up, looking like a predator, unsure whether the prey is worth the effort spent. He walks over to you and nuzzles your shoulder, then slowly slides down until he is lying on his stomach, his arms hugging your knees.

 You lower your hand and start gently stroking his horns and hair, run your fingers a little deeper to do a little head massage. The feeling of imminent death gradually fades into the background, but you still clearly feel it if you are distracted for at least a second.

Naberius lies like a log, not moving, until at some point he rises, pulling off his shirt, the buttons of which he somehow managed to unbutton before. His wings immediately open, the sharp edge touches the cactus on the bedside table. The demon moves its dark appendages several times, then falls back to its place, now lying on your right cheek.

You continue stroking his head, but suddenly Kalego makes a dissatisfied sound and moves his wing, causing a slight breeze. Only now do you notice that he has been trying to draw attention to them all this time.

Leaving one hand on his head, you lower the other to his back, starting to gently and lovingly rub the bases of the wings, dark skin and scars. Naberius puffs contentedly, practically not moving. His wings sometimes twitch, and you hurriedly press your hand to your chest, fearing that you have hurt the demon. But in fact nothing bad happened, Kalego just wanted you to scratch it lower-higher-right-left.

Gradually you begin to relax, thoughts of imminent death fade into the background. Naberius continues to lie like a stone, and you think that he has fallen asleep, but exactly until the moment when the demon rises, opening his huge wings.

He takes your hand and opens his mouth, picking up the ring with his sharp teeth and spitting it somewhere towards the floor. You feel defenseless without mana, but you cannot move, you are only free to watch the demon sniffing your wrist.

He doesn't break eye contact when he sticks out his tongue and runs it over your sweat-salted skin. You're not sure if it was a good idea, but Kalego doesn't seem to be confused by anything. The demon continues to slide his tongue over your skin until it loses all taste.

It's even... calming, even if it causes more awkwardness.

And then you scream in surprise and pain when his sharp fangs pierce your flesh. Blood pours into the demon's mouth, and you suddenly realize that you are finished.

H-he won't stop. He'll eat me. Now he doesn't think anything, which means that it means!..

You try to cover your face with your hands, although this will lead to nothing. You are knocked down on the bed, your own blood falls on your face. Kalego bends down, licking a red stripe first from your wrist, and then small puddles from your cheeks. You try to cry, to scream, but the lump in your throat does not allow you to do it. And what's the difference? This demon knows no mercy.

You close your eyes when someone bends over your face with a growl. Please... just don't make it hurt… A chuckle comes out deep from Naberius' chest, and you hear a voice that is still rude and monstrous, but still filled with something familiar:

–And you continue to be a pervert, (Y/N).

It looks like you said those words out loud…

You force yourself to look into the eyes of the demon attached to your wrist. He slowly sucks the blood out of you until he pulls away, leaving a small kiss on the wounded skin and healing it with magic. Surprisingly, his face is perfectly clean, as is his chin, as well as his neck, especially when compared with your hand.

Kalego presses the tip of his nose to yours, his eyes are still filled with cruelty, his open wings cover the ceiling of the bedroom and seem to say that you will not be able to escape anywhere. Naberius laughs unpleasantly and kisses you on the lips.

–Do you really think I'm going to hurt what I swore to protect? –  another chuckle. – Even if I do something to you, it will be a completely different thing.

The demon laughs softly.

–Guess, – he opens his wings even more, showing his dominance. – The answer lies in just a few layers of clothing separating us from each other.

Kalego kisses you again, then pulls away and smiles with his mouth open, teeth dangerously shiny.

–I've never crossed the line, so I don't know how to get back to normal. Now I want to either kill, or... – he glares at your face. – And I like the second option much more.

You don't have time to say anything because the demon pounces on you, making you scream and giggle from his lips touching your neck so sharply.

Bonus (?)

When Kalego wakes up, he feels very strange. Yes, he's in his room, but why is he half naked? And why does the kitchen smell like food?..

The demon enters a familiar room and sees a little man sitting and drinking cocoa. As soon as she hears footsteps, she immediately turns around with such fright that it's like someone is hitting Naberius in the heart. Who dared to scare her? Is she hurt? Where did so many injuries come from?! I'll find the one who touched her! ..

–D-don't come near me! – she screams, rushing away with a mug to the corner of the room.

The teacher's heart falls down, he takes a step back, afraid to scare off his beloved. He swallows, desperately trying to remember what happened yesterday... or the day before... or even earlier…

–I won't let you bite me anymore! – the little man continues to squeal, hiding behind a mug, like a cross. –I t-thought I was going to bleed to death! And d-don't you dare to praise my blood like you've been doing these days, again! That's it… it's embarrassing! It's vulgar! A-A-A-A-A!

–What did I d?..

–And I won't bite your wing! Don't even think about it! And your tail too! OUR RELATIONSHIP IS NOT SO CLOSE THAT I WOULD DO SOMETHING WITH YOUR WINGS OR TAIL!

Kalego slaps his forehead sharply, almost screaming in despair. He seems to guess what happened after he got into the Evil Cycle…

Ha... ha.

[drewlover]

the legacies of zeus pt. 2 ─── the making

i. hephaestus; god of fire ── a burnt child loves the fire

ㅤㅤㅤdark hair the colour of charcoal. manic eyes driven by automatons, the strive for perfection. fingers that claw at cliffs, trying to reach the unreachable. ‘trust no one but yourself and your creations.’ the quickness of their hands match the speed of their brains. skin too hot to touch. you tell them this and they laugh, saying ‘we know, we keep it that way.’ aloneness. they’re never perfect no, but their fingers always are. inferiority complexes that lead to death. automaton or human? no one knows. upturned smiles that make you shiver in fear. do not ask them to make something for you, because it will end up perfect. nothing perfect ever means happiness. perfection leads to tragedy.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤthe fire weaves through his fingers, braiding into his veins. he remembers the way the cradle laid over the fire, the lullaby tia callida had hummed. accept it, because it is yours, the only thing that’ll ever be. the seventh wheel, that is what you are. stay with your automatons instead. glow, explode, die. maybe then you’d feel the way the fire heats your skin and melts your bones. maybe then you’ll feel human.

ii. hermes; god of thieves ── homesick, and not sure where home is

ㅤㅤㅤcoloured hair, never black. smirks that cut through your soul. quick hands and feet, almost invisible. they’re never really there. skin that fades into the background, turning see through. eyes that constantly shift. lips that kiss so sweetly and lie so quickly. they are cloaked in thousands of lies, and there’s no use cutting through it- they’re too covered. wax melting through skin, sealing letters never to be read. secrets that topple kingdoms, the knowledge a single curve of a pen holds. they talk to ghosts, and they know your secrets. they walk with the dead, who are you to think that you can intimidate them?

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤluke stares kronos in the eyes and he lies, twisting them to prayers full of reverence. kronos never suspects a thing. travis walks up to katie and kisses her, quick hands grabbing her waist, her wallet, her heart. he smirks into the kiss. connor presses his hands against a door and it opens, presses his hands into the hot wax and reads the letter. chris holds the ghost’s hand gently and guides them to rest, wrapping the secrets around his heart like barbed wire and allows himself to bleed. truth. they don’t know the word.

iii. dionsyus; god of wine ── ‘i exist.’ in thousands of agonies—i exist.

ㅤㅤㅤpurple hair mistaken for black. grape vines turning into amethyst. a single stare at them leaves you intoxicated, unraveling you, leaving you at your worst. voices that sounds like fires that crackle softly. unnerving laughs, the screaming of a madman begging his wife to come back to life. their gazes are empty, cold. their feet are light, and when they walk, they look like swans gliding on a lake. the air around them is sour, like the scent that fills the room when bad wine gets opened. you look at them and you want them to feel alone, but they get there first. they look at you and detach you from the world, cutting your roots and letting you float to space. there is nothing there. you can’t breath. drunken laughter fill your ears.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤpollux yells in anger as castor falls. the monster flinches, the scream filling him with haunted dreams. it falls to it’s knees, speechless, haunted, empty. everything is silent, and there’s blood on the floor, getting gathered into a wine cup and offered to it. they look into the cup and the reflection staring at them makes it scream. pollux’s smile twists into something sinister. castor’s love turns into madness. the smell of wine and blood fills the air

[paradisecas]

just to find a love that feels this right

midamoul week day 1: family (? kinda)

Kate used to tell Adam that all she ever wanted was for him to find his person and never ever pick someone like John. She never said it outright, but her life was meant to be a warning. An omen. Adam should avoid people who could fuck him up like John did her, even if he didn’t mean to at first.

A decade and a thousand years later, Adam has ignored that warning and decided that his people are the two beings that have hurt him the most.

It’s fucked up. He knows it’s fucked up, in some tiny crevice in the back of his mind—Ghoul is a monster and Michael is technically the oldest being in all of creation after Chuck and Amara and Death all died or were transferred. Nothing about them cries relationship material.

It’s so fucked up that he hasn’t gone to see Kate yet; he knows what she’d say, and it’s the same thing she told him a hundred times growing up.

Make sure they’re right for you. Don’t stay because you feel like there’s no other choice. Don’t ask for something normal from someone who can’t provide it.

He doesn’t think he’ll be able to look her in the eye when he’s ignoring everything she taught him.

They’re probably not right for him. He doesn’t have any other choice. And they’re so painfully abnormal that it hurts sometimes.

But—they try. They really try.

“We’re out of eggs,” Michael tells him, standing in front of the open fridge. “I wanted to make breakfast for you tomorrow.”

“There’s no bacon either,” Ghoul adds, peering over Michael’s shoulder a safe distance away.

“That’s because you ate it all,” Michael gripes. “Adam, would you like me to do the shopping for us?”

Technically, Michael could probably snap his fingers and their fridge and pantry would be stocked with everything they need for a week. Technically, Michael could do a lot of things with his powers, but Adam quickly realized that letting him felt like using him and the ease of it all meant he’d never leave the house, which wasn’t good for anyone’s cage-or-graveyard themed trauma.

Adam also quickly learned that sending Michael to the grocery store, even with a list, would end up with him buying the most ridiculous ingredients, like four dozen eggs that he can’t eat before they expire because he doesn’t even eat eggs that much and Michael can preserve them but that feels wrong because some things are just meant to go bad, or a whole box of bruised beets because they’re healthy and Adam should eat better even though beets are actually disgusting, or a live lobster that he felt bad for, or carb free bread that’s unsettling and crunchy because of all the seeds? wheat? in it. The bill ends up being hundreds of dollars that he doesn’t pay and he usually has to wipe a memory or two in the process which fills Adam with an indescribable guilt and the horrible thought that Michael can be so similar to Chuck, which he has to tuck into the darkest recesses of his mind lest Michael see and have a crisis of biblical proportions.

Ghoul can’t do the shopping either. He’ll come back with nothing but raw meat that technically Adam can eat too and a live lobster as well because that’s the one thing those two can agree on and, one notable time, looking like someone else because he quote, saw this total smokeshow and thought it might be a nice surprise for Adam so he snuck a bite in the middle of Aldi and definitely didn’t get kicked out before he could even buy the groceries.

They also can’t go together because they’ll end up with yet another live lobster—Adam is not immune to feeling bad for them when Michael and Ghoul are in his ears talking about the poor things being trapped for entertainment and bought for the slaughter—and he’s tired of telling Michael to take it back to the ocean and he just knows that they’re gearing up to ask for a tank to keep them all in that he won’t be able to say no to because they’ll be on the same team for once, and Michael will brandish his beets and multi colored carrots with bright eyes and Ghoul will point at people he thinks are attractive and say that Michael’s here so there’s no risk and Adam will come back home with nothing he went there for. 

Kate would call it weaponized incompetence. They do such a bad job so he has to step in and do it for them, but she wouldn’t understand. 

They’re not John. They’re not being ridiculous on purpose. This is them trying, really earnestly trying because they want to make Adam’s life easier, and they do! Michael makes him breakfast and Ghoul never forgets to thaw the chicken and going to release another lobster is like a mini vacation sometimes and people watching has turned into a game of Who Should Ghoul Eat Next, which would horrify Kate and should horrify Adam but the reality is, people are just so young and so small after all his time locked away with the biggest being in the universe. 

Everything that happened to him at the hands of Michael and Ghoul set him on the outside of the world; he can’t live the normal life she wanted for him anymore. Maybe this is why so many people stay hunters; it’s easier to keep to the outskirts rather than integrate with people who don’t know anything.

At least they’re on the outside with him.

That’s what Kate wouldn’t understand, so he doesn’t go see her. He doesn’t ask Michael to take him and he doesn’t ask Ghoul to stay behind because this is his life, for better or for worse. 

“I’ll go,” he says, “but you can help me make a list.”

[ererokii]

Pretend I Am || Zhongli

note: hi! This is super indulgent for some reason because I just wanted to write this so bad. Thank you @reddriot and @etegomanere for betaing!

Warnings: spoilers for archon quests (?) angst, insecurity, identity crisis

WC: 5.1k

Synopsis: After his first love joined dust once again, Zhongli can’t help but believe she’s still here, through you.

Staring into a mirror wasn’t the same as it was before. An image was put into your head, your mind playing tricks upon tricks that got you dizzy just thinking about it.

Many tales of the God of Dust were passed down from generation to generation. Your family seemed to be fond of her stories, especially hearing about the creation of the Guizhong Ballista.

The more you heard of her, the more you wanted to be her. She was your idol as a young child. A woman building something was not commonly heard of at that age, but it was possible.

Now at the ripe age of 24, you despised hearing of her.

Glaze lilies.

How horrid, yet so beautiful. Delicate shades of blue sprouting up at you, with a deeper meaning behind the petals that saddened you. Staring down upon them, you were drawn to them despite having harsh thoughts of these flowers. When the sun went down and the moon took over, you would be home and have glaze lillies in your vase by the window.

Amber eyes would stare at you from the hallway, drinking in your appearance. The funeral consultant, Zhongli, would look on with a rather perplexed and sorrowful expression. The amount of times he found you with Glaze Lilies by your side was enough for a pain to form in your chest.

And that’s how it started. Something as simple as a flower was able to ruin your own image.

Accidentally slips of the name would be heard, causing your head to perk up at the sudden change. Not long after, formal apologies would be sent your way, gloved fingers would intertwine with yours, thumbs rubbing your knuckles.

It felt as if you weren’t enough. Hearing her name felt like a spear being thrown through your heart, ironic because the one saying her name was Rex Lapis himself.

Many times Zhongli would go on a tangent, speaking about the era eons ago; the two gods ruling over Guili Plains. It never bothered you, but by the way he spoke so highly of her, how his voice got more soft to the point where it sounded like he was whispering; you knew he wasn’t over her.

And all you could do was listen with a sad smile and nod your head to the things he spoke about.

In Zhongli’s eyes, you were beautiful, ethereal, and intelligent.

Just like Guizhong.

-

Your words seem like idle chatter in the back of his mind as he peers over at you from the sofa in the main lounge of your shared house. Your back to him, hands moving to grab things. There’s a slight downward curve to his lips, his gloved finger tapping away at his knee as if concentrating.

His golden eyes take notice of the dress you’re wearing. A shade of white with intrigue designs at the bottom. The forsaken flower that seemed to the base of his problems, shined like gold in his vision.

With slightly widened eyes, he leans forward, his hand balled. His calm breathing changes to something shaky, a small pant leaving his mouth. His vision becomes cloudy, tears threatening to spill past his lower lids. The Archon wants to reach out and grasp, wanting to make sure she’s safe forever.

But dreams could hardly become reality.

“Zhongli,” she whispers, a concerned look plastered on her face as she turns around to gaze at him. “Why are you crying? What’s wrong?” He recognizes the sleeves from her dress; something he made poked fun at her for being too big. But for some reason, he can’t see her features. All he can take notice is the Glaze Lilly tucked behind her ear, holding a strand in place.

He’s unable to say anything and blinks, the tear trickling down his face as he stares one more time.

“Zhongli,” you call out for once more, taking a seat beside him on the sofa. “What’s wrong, my love?” you whisper, cupping his cheek.

“I’m sorry.” His voice is raspy, eyes looking down at the floor. “I’m sorry..”

“W-What are you even sorry for? What did you do?”

And he doesn’t tell you. He composes himself and says he’s out for a walk, alone.

From that night on, he never brought up what happened. But you weren’t stupid; you knew what was going on.

It was growing harder for you to stare at your reflection. It felt as if your face was a lie— like you were being lied too. The longer you gazed at the mirror, the more you got confused. In the eyes of everyone, they see a young adult woman with unique features that could make her desirable to any man in Liyue.

But in your own, you couldn’t even see yourself. All you could see was the stem, leaves and petals of a Glaze Lilly. No matter where, no matter what, it was there.

She was there— someone you looked up to in your childhood years.

Your fingers hesitantly stroke the glass of the mirror, feeling the cold underneath your fingertips. They trace the outline of your cheek, to your eyes, to the curve of your nose. It wasn’t you.

“Who are you pretending to be?” you whisper, taking a step back as it becomes clear.

Staring back at you was a faceless woman, though she wore a frown identical to your own. Her clothes were drastically different from your own. Gold and white silk robes adore her upper body, the only thing your eyes can grasp. The woman seemed strangely distant, something that you couldn’t quite comprehend, something that wasn’t you.

Your hand shakily lifts to your face, your skin warm to the touch. Your chest heaves slowly, deeply inhaling as you exhale, pinching the skin of your cheek. It feels all too real.

Your hands travel over your shoulders to your chest; the clothing of your night time wear does not feel the same as the silk robes she is wearing. It feels too real, yet the person in front of you threw your sense of reality for a loop.

You admire your hand, staring at the palm and the back. It looked as if you were first staring at your limbs like you never have before.

“Guizhong,” you whisper, one hand gripping the counter of the sink, your body leaning forward to stare closely. A yellow stem catches your attention, eyes gazing at the flower in her hair. Mesmerized, you place your hand on your head, feeling for the petals.

In the reflection, she has a petal in between her fingers, rubbing it gently. But you— you’re rubbing nothing but a few strands of your hair. Disappointment runs through your veins, hand dropping back by your side.

Your mind is swirling with thoughts that scare you. The feeling of not being able to recognize yourself was driving you up the well. They were hallucinations, you knew that. You wanted them gone.

You wanted to be able to stare at yourself, to truly be able to do that and speak with confidence and say it’s you.

Now you aren’t able to do that.

Who are you?

-

You never told Zhongli how you felt about yourself; you didn’t want him worrying. Chances are he probably will never know.

A night out was something you desperately needed and that, Zhongli gave you. Not one for fancy things, you told him just going to Wanmin Restaurant would be enough for the two of you.

It was back to the good days when you first got with him. Laughter was shared between the two of you, looks of love and adoration was sent your way. His hand resting on your thigh, giving it an occasional squeeze as he speaks about the interesting history about Liyue (even though you practically knew everything already).

When it’s your turn to speak, you speak with confidence. He loved hearing the words effortlessly flow from your mouth. You knew how to hold up a conversation and draw someone in.

Not to mention how extremely intelligent you were. You talked about inventing things that no man has ever thought of but never brought yourself to do so. Maybe there could have been a weapon to protect Liyue from monsters now with the Archon gone.

“And then if that’s even possible...” you trail off, a sparkle in your eyes as your hands are lively, emphasizing your points. Zhongli can’t help but pay more attention once you talk about inventions. Maybe you could build something like the Guizhong Ballista? But then again, she was one of the smartest women in his lifetime.

He takes his eyes off the woman beside him for a second, watching the waiters pass him with trays of delicious Liyue delicacies being served to other customers. He glanced back over, freezing in his spot.

Guizhong continued to talk, letting out a sigh of defeat, her head hanging forward that showed her being displeased. “It seems almost impossible at this point.”

Instead of getting emotional like the last time, he lets out a hum, then chuckles. “You’re an intelligent woman,” he tells her, looking down at their plates of food that’s almost wiped clean. “I’m positive you’ll manage it.”

“You really think so, Morax?”

“Huh?” That catches his attention, his head snapping back over to the woman. “What did you say?”

“I said you really think so, Zhongli?” Your eyebrows are furrowed, lips pursed ever so faintly as you shift in your seat. “Are you okay? You seem out of it.”

He’s unable to answer, staring down at you with a frown. From your view, he looks disappointed. “Forgive me, I don’t mean to make you repeat yourself but...did you say Morax?”

You’re confused. You have no idea what he’s talking about.

“No,” you start, tilting your head to the side faintly, “I didn’t say Morax...maybe you’re hearing things. We can go back home if you’re not feeling good.”

“No, that won’t be necessary.” He lets out a sigh, closing his eyes for a split second before reopening. “Maybe I’m a little tired. It’s okay, darling. I’m fine really. Let’s just enjoy ourselves for the night.”

The calm and collected man did not seem okay, but you decided it was best if boundaries weren’t pushed tonight. “Alright,” you say with a small smile, grabbing his hand, squeezing gently. “If you say so.”

“I know so.” He leans closer, his hot breath against the shell of your ear, the hairs on your neck standing up. “You seem to doubt me on many occasions. Why is that?”

You scoff lightly, rolling your eyes as you turn your head to face him. “Oh stop it. You know I never doubt you.”

“If you say so.”

“I know so,” you say, copying his words moments prior; cupping his cheek and stroking his skin with the pad of your finger. “I love you, Zhongli,” you whisper, pressing your lips against his in a gentle kiss. His eyes flutter close, his hand dropping to rest on your waist, reciprocating the kiss.

And I…

That little incident of him hearing his old name did not go unnoticed. Throughout the day you would catch him staring at you like he was lost. His mouth would be slightly parted, eyebrows furrowed to the point where a small wrinkle formed in between them. Whenever you called him out on it, he would lightly shake his head to get his sense of reality straight again before brushing it off.

“Zhongli? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, my love.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Of course this worried you to no end. Maybe he was tired?

Maybe he was looking at someone?

Someone who wasn’t you.

-

A night stroll was something you both enjoyed immensely. The soft light of the moon gazing down at you, lighting up the dirt path of Dihua Marsh. No words were spoken between the two of you, rather enjoying the serene silence.

Your eyes focus on the trail in front of you, the leaves of the Sandbearer tree wisp in the cool air of the night. As you venture forward, you lightly kick the pebbles that rest by your foot, watching them roll forward or to the side. You earn a chuckle from the older man beside you; his eyes focused straight ahead.

There’s no definite place you’re headed too. At this point, you might as well be stuck here for the rest of the night.

At this time, monsters roam around, but tonight feels different. It feels as if you don’t have to watch every empty space of land to make sure nothing comes at you. There’s a churning in your gut, but you can’t put your finger on it.

Your eyes catch onto the river on the left side of the trail, the reflection of the moon evident in the rippling water. “That’s pretty,” you state softly, looking up at your lover, “don’t you think?”

“Mhm. I do believe it’s very beautiful,” he says, voice gruff and firm. His ponytail moves with every step he takes, the auburn color at the tips glowing slightly— something that wasn’t out of the ordinary.

“This area used to be pure, untouched by wandering monsters, bearing their hands on any living thing. That of course was what happened before the rest of the Gods decided to take seat upon the divine.”

Divine was Celestia. You heard numerous stories told by storytellers that stay in the small restaurant in Liyue. Each story was unique— not like the other. Many citizens of Liyue often got into bickers when it came to telling the ‘true’ story.

The God of Salt’s people refused to call the Geo Archon by his name. Morax was basically poison to them. They believe Havaria was murdered out of sheer jealousy. But of course, that wasn’t true.

When you first heard the story by none other than him himself, you were in awe. Despite the brutality and casualties placed upon god after god and innocent citizens, it left you with nothing but questions.

“Man is known to let their greed take over every ounce of them. Of course, me being ruler over Guili Plains at the time, I had no choice but to protect my people...then the death of Guizhong–” He stops talking, tongue peeking out and licking his lower lip.

You take notice where you’re at now.

A small field of Glaze Lilies.

You watch his shoulders rise slowly as he inhales deeply before exhaling, letting his head fall back as he turns his face to the sky, eyes closed.

“I’m sure you remember me speaking about the Memory of Dust correct?” You nod to his question, following him quite closely as he begins to walk once more, hands behind his back.

“She gave it to me a few months after we met. It’s something no mortal can handle. Even I wasn’t able to open it. I spent months on end, trying my best to open the mystery that was contained inside. It was truly a challenge. But of course, she was a woman with extreme intelligence. Guizhong was the brain for the two of us.”

And thus Zhongli continued to speak highly of her. He shared the moments when the God of Dust. Cloud Retainer and himself would meet up for tea and lunch in Mt.Aozang. He spoke when they would take walks together in Dihua Marsh, walking through the glaze lilies; listening to her sing at the blooming flowers.

Hearing him talk about his previous lover set a fire within you. Insecurity ran through your veins when he would smile, bringing up something else that came into his mind. It made you feel as if you weren’t enough at this very moment.

But, it made you feel loved.

A warmth blossomed in the pit of your chest, your body feeling light and relaxed. The way his eyes sparkled to the way he gestured— everything just seems so perfect. Your lips curled up in a smile as you gazed up at him lovingly, your heart skipping a few beats to the nervous feeling in your stomach.

You were in love.

It was as if he was praising you. You were the intelligent woman, the most beautiful being in Teyvat all those years ago. Generous, kind, thoughtful. Each of those words, you thought it was for you.

You were going deeper and deeper into a hole you knew you wouldn’t be able to get out of. Love was something that was meant to be cherished, but was also the more cruel thing a human being can go through.

Love made people blind, and you were one of love’s victims.

“She sounded amazing,” you comment, running your hands through the spot of glaze lilies you’re currently sitting in, the cool green grass rubbing against the palm of your skin.

“She was extraordinary.”

You hum in return, closing your eyes as a cool breeze whooshes by you, goosebumps littering your arms as you shudder under the cold. With the wind, the blades of grass danced under the air, the nearby flowers swaying.

Zhongli peers down at your seated form with the flowers. He watches with intent eyes, looking at the way your hands hold the plant, careful as if it were a form of porcelain.

He can’t help but feel sad as you stroke the blue petals with the tip of your finger, a faint smile on your lips. He pondered to himself; why were you staring up at him with a dumb founded look of love? Surely he wasn’t saying anything great at that moment.

He can recall the way you stared at him with half lidded eyes, like you were dozing off in your own dream state.

It throws him for a whirl. These past few weeks messed with his head— more than anything has in his life.

“Glaze Lilies were her favorite, huh?” you spoke up, bringing it closer to your nose, sniffing as the aroma filled your senses, a pleased sigh passing your lips. Your fingers mess with the stem, no thorns popping out from it.

“They… yes indeed they were.”

It’s silent for a moment before a hum breaks the silence.

Sitting in a small field of Glaze Lillies in Dihua Marsh, you hummed softly to yourself as you become one with the flowers in your mind. If all of Teyvat was silent enough, your melody could reach all ears; the young and the old.

A sheer screen of white flashes before Zhongli’s eyes, blinding the archon for a split second before his eyes snap open, a small pant leaving his lips.

It’s no longer night. The sun has risen for the day, the rays shining down on him.

His arms feel slightly heavy as he gazes down, notice the black and gold lines littering his arms; the color of Geo glowing with each second. He checks his palms then the back, taking notice of the white robe he now wore along with his slightly baggy pants and no shoes.

Unsure, he slowly lifts a hand to the top of his head, feeling a sharp pole coming from under the hood. His horns stood up, tall and proud for everyone to know that this was Rex Lapis.

It’s quiet among the trails in Dihua Marsh. Something catches his eye as he turns his head, noticing the small traces of civilization.

“Odd...everything was in ruin after the war,” he mutters to himself, the dirt rubbing against his bare feet.

Instead of being near the field like he was moments ago, he’s rather far away; the patch of flowers in the distance. Morax is confused as to how he ended over here but decided not to comment.

With each step he takes, the rocks buried in the ground poke at his feet, making him wince faintly in pain. He most definitely recalls wearing shoes before coming out in the open.

Everything now seems to be beautiful, at peace. Nothing was out of the ordinary, the old statues were up, not a single crack on them.

The walk seems to last a millennia to the God of Contracts but eventually reaches the green patch that leads to the blooming flowers.

The first thing he takes sight is the clothed back of what looks like a woman who happens to be sitting in the field. The second thing he notices is a flower of Liyue that rests in her hand.

As he gets closer, his ears catch the melody the woman is singing. It tugs at the strings of his heart, yet drags him deeper into the hole of curiosity .

The red baggy robes are the things he recognizes on the spot. The sleeves are far too large for this lady, the white belt that is loosely wrapped around her waist that gives the idea of carelessness; but the way she moves, the way her voice reaches his ears.

There’s no doubt in his mind.

He gets closer and closer with each note she hits before he’s only three steps away from her. His pupils are dilated, his hand reaching out to grasp.

It’s only seconds until he feels a droplet trickle down his face, dropping to the grass underneath him. One tear turns into two, then three until he’s quietly crying behind the woman, remembering every note.

His arms that glowed have now dimmed, faded from its bright color. His head is hung forward, shoulders slugged as he lets out a shaky breath, bangs brushing against his forehead.

“You know, you don’t have to stand right there and stare.”

“P-Pardon?” Morax stutters, lifting his head up to see the woman’s head turned faintly to where he can see the outline of her nose.

“I said,” she started, her voice soft yet demanding, “you don’t have to stand and stare like that. You can approach me too.”

“My mistake,” Morax clears his throat, one hand wiping away the clear liquid from his cheek. “I hope I didn’t frighten you.”

She lets out a laugh that makes his heart flutter. “You didn’t scare me. I was able to sense you when you were back there by the old tree. You have a very powerful presence, Morax.”

“I’ve been told that before by old friends of mine.” He peered down at her, taking in the shape of her nose. “Might I ask, what’s your name?”

“My name?” She asks, not giving him what he wanted. “And why might you need that?”

“Well shouldn’t every god know one another?”

She’s silent for one second before nodding. “I suppose you’re right.”

“My name is—“ she tells him but he doesn’t quite catch it. He asks for it once more but does not hear it again. Morax rubs his ear gently before noticing that she’s standing up; back to him.

“It’s nice to meet you, Morax. I think we’ll get along just fine,” her bare feet move in the grass blades, her body beginning to turn.

The wind gets knocked out of his chest, lips parted in shock. A face he’s been trying to remember for eons— isn’t the same as it was.

Her eyes sparkled, a gentle smile on her lips as she approached him. Her features were unique, something that looks awfully familiar but cannot put his tongue on it.

“Don’t you think?” Her head tilts to the side, lifting a Glaze Lily in front of their face. His bright eyes can’t even stare at the plant, fixated on her face that he seemed to see every day of his current life.

“I…”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to answer me just yet, Zhongli.”

“What?” He asks in a whisper, voice barely audible to her ears. “What are you talking about?”

“I know, Zhongli.”

There’s a dull ache in his frontal, a hand clutching his forehead with a wince, eyes squeezed shut.

So many things hit him like a meteor. His head is spiraling, his heart feels as if it could burst out of his chest at any second. All he wants to do it lay down on the floor and let everything wash away. That seems like the best option.

“Zhongli...”

His eyes flutter open, adjusting to the now dark setting of Dihua Marsh. Clear liquid cascades down his face as he quickly scans the area. The old traces of civilization were now gone, the area nothing more than flora and fauna; the statues broken down.

“Zhongli.”

Your voice catches his attention, your body standing right in front of him, holding a glaze Lilly in front of your face.

It clicks in his brain for only a second when he sees the tear slipping down your face.

But the thing that throws him off the most is that beautiful smile you’re wearing.

Smiling through the pain as you told yourself many times in the past month. Your sad eyes aren’t even staring at him, rather looking at the petals that seemed to weigh as much as the rocks that surrounded the area.

Seeing your current state set off a small alarm within him. His hand as if automated too, reaches out and cups your cheek, a gloved thumb rubbing against the soft skin.

“What’s wrong?”

“This whole time–” Your voice is shaky, unstable as you steer your gaze to stare into his golden eyes. “–I was confusing myself to no end. Every night I would walk up the mirror and try to figure myself out but I never could. When I closed my eyes, I couldn’t see anything but this...this flower. It was all I saw.”

When you spoke, your smile never faltered. In all honesty, it was starting to get him a bit frightened at how calm yet broken you were.

“It wasn’t me.”

“Maybe you’re just tired?” he suggests, worried about your wellbeing. “You might be stressing yourself too—” You cut him off with a shake of your head, reaching up and cupping both of his cheeks, the stem rubbing against his skin.

“When you close your eyes… I know who you pretend I am.”

At this moment, his vision is blurry as more tears form before slipping past his lower eyelids. He’s unable to see your face, blinking the tears away, but more form in their wake. He’s unable to see you.

“I don’t understand what you mean...”

“I know who you pretend I am, and it’s okay.” Your lips brush against his own for a second, your tears mixing with his own.

Through his tears, he catches a glimpse of your face. To him, you look devastated. Your lips are down in a frown, your head hung forward with your body hunched just a tad, hands by your side. To him, you look done.

But you, you’re far from it.

The circumstances of the now don’t affect you as they did when you first caught onto the strange behavior. The longing glances, how he would spend his hours of the night trying to open the dumbbell that contained her wisdom. Not to mention the slip ups of her name being said rather than her own. Even in his sleep, you could hear him calling for her once in a while.

“I’m not upset. It took me a while to accept it but...I’m ready.” You bring the flower to your nose, taking a whiff then presenting it to him.

Once again the archon stares at you with a dumb founded look, something that was strange to see on him. He can’t say anything as you look forever different in his eyes.

It’s like your body was split in half, making two completely different people. The right side staring at him was Guizhong. His first lover and former ruler of the Guili Plains. Her eyes were sad with a smile, her body stiff as all she could do was stare at him.

The left was his current lover. Someone who went through months of denial, confusion and hurt. Your eyes shone as you offered nothing but a flower and your love and devotion to him.

Two women that happened to be one.

Yet one outshined the other.

“I’m ready to be who you want me to be.” Your hand runs up his face, tucking the stem of the flower behind his ear that now takes a seat in his black hair. “No matter how you see me as, my love for you can never change.”

Zhongli feels his heart flutter at your words and the small laugh that slips past your lips when you catch his look. Yet each time he closes his eyes, your face becomes blurry before going normal. Your clothes change, and so does the style of your hair. Everything changes once he closes his eyes to get his reality set straight.

I know who you pretend I am.

“Even if I’m not Guizhong, I’ll be her for as long as you need...until I die. I’ll always be here, Morax,” you whisper, gazing at his lips before pressing yours against his. Your arms slither around his neck, cradling the back of his neck.

Morax melts into the kiss, his arms encircling your waist bringing you flushed against him.

In his mind, he’s standing in Guili Plains with the sun shining down at him, the God of Dust currently in his arms as their people cry in joy that they found a safe place to live— two caring gods to watch over them forever and protect them from harm's way.

All the worries were thrown out the door as the now is most important to him.

But now, he’s standing in a field covered with the most beautiful flowers known to man, their petals swaying with the sudden harsh wind that hits against him and his lover.

After eons of waiting and in sorrow, Morax now has what he desired the most once the chaos of the Archon War was finished. To hold the one most important close again.

Unbeknownst to him, a single tear slips down your face as you begin to revel in the new identity you gave yourself. Pain will continue to surge through your veins but you could care less.

If Morax was happy, you will continue to be happy for him.

For you are Guizhong, the God of Dust. Lover of Morax.

I love you, Morax.

And I love you too, Guizhong...

taglist: @reddriot @kaqinq @thicmitten @katsuhera @novvabeam @patt-writes-stuff @etegomanere @tspice283 @bonitoge @mysticalchocolate @alexisskywalker @nyangorogoro030303 @frassycassy (add yourself to the Genshin taglist HERE)

[linkspooky]

Who in you’re opinion are the 5 best written characters in jjk?

1. Suguru Geto

Geto is the type of character I refer to as an "empathy monster", his genuine feelings of empathy for other people just make him all the more monstrous. Empathy isn't a positive or negative trait, it's just one personality trait that makes a person. It's just the ability to inuit other people's emotions naturally. It's not some magical trait that makes you a good guy. Suguru starts out his story as someone who strives to be good, but in a "self righteous" way. He's trying to assure himself that he's a good person, that his beliefs are the right ones.

Geto and Gojo work so well as character foils, because they are essentially the same person. They're both "the strongest" and that makes them see themselves as apart from normal people. Geto at first believes it's his duty to help weak people, but that still comes from a place of looking down on them.

Then Geto is put through something no normal teenager should have gone through, he gets close to a girl, only to watch her die right in front of him when he promised to be the one to save her and fall away from his best friend shortly after, because when Satoru became the strongest it seemed like he didn't need him anymore.

Geto sees himself above normal people, but it's actually him genuinely connecting to someone he and Gojo would have dismissed as a normal person before in Riko Amanai, and seeing her desire to live in this world the same as everyone else, only for it to be taken away that breaks Geto. Geto feels this empathy deeper and stronger than everything else, and because he cares the loss absolutely devestates him and the only way for him to go forward is to just cut off that empathy. He starts seeing everyone, except for the sorcers closest to him as being human. He disqualifies them.

Geto works so well as a character, because it's his good qualities that drive him to tragedy not his faults. He shows how uncaring the world of sorcerers is, if trying to be a genuinely caring person can be a fault that drives you off the edge.

2. Satoru Gojo.

Gojo's writing is well done because it's balanced, the entire character is built around the idea of being "the strongest" but instead of it being a power fantasy, Gojou's character revolves more around how much it sucks to be him.

Gojo can win any fight alone, but it doesn't get him what he wants. He can't use his strength to solve every problem. There are several things he can't do, he can't teach that well, understand or relate to other people, play politics with others.

What Gojo wants is a better world, and comrades that can stay by his side without getting left behind, but he can't have those things. Gojo actually has an insecurity around being the strongest, because he thinks it's all that defines him. He sees his strength as insufficient ultimately because there is so much he failed to do. He has strength, but he couldn't save Geto. Gojo is the strongest man in the whole world and still he fails, he makes mistakes like any other human. Just like his character profile says, Gojo can do almost anything, but there's nothing he particularly wants to do and when he does find something it slips out of his fingers.

3. Okkotsu Yuta.

Jujutsu Kaisen writes main characters well, and it does this by not allowing them to be "the main characters' of their stories. In most stories the world revolves around the viewpoint of the protagonists. However, in the case of both Yuji and Yuta every time they try to view themselves as the heroes, or act self-centered in their viewpoints, they get slapped in the face and reminded that they're not the only ones fighting here.

Yuta is a well thought out version of the "nakama" trope, in that Yuta's entire problem is how codependent he is. He can't function without people around him. He was so afraid of losing Rika when he was young, that he cursed her and bound her to him for years after her death which inevitably made her suffer.

Yuta's passivity is also a serious flaw. Maki calls him out for "playing the victim" as an excuse to avoid responsibility. If he lets others push him around, then he doesn't ever have to make decisions for his actions because he's "not at fault." Yuta's arc in Zero is forcing him to grow up and take responsibility, otherwise he'll keep hurting the people around him like he did Rika, and I hope we can see the conintuation of that arc.

4.  Kokichi Muta.

Kokichi is a perfectly executed tragic character. His circumstances aren't his own fault, but he still makes bad choices in those circumstances.

Kokichi's desire is to be together with everyone else. However, Kokichi is so afraid of his friends hating him, because of how worthless he believes his own body to be that he can't let them close. Kokichi has internalized the idea that he's weak, so he takes all the burdens on his own shoulders in an attempt to prove he's strong.

That, is what leads him to try to challenge Mahito all on his own. He wants to be closer to the others, but he can't bring himself to rely on them. It leads to one of the saddest scenes in the manga, and expresses the tragedy that's repeated again and again in the jujutsu world, that these are all just kids that want to be friends, and have the normal lives everyone else have. I want to be together with everyone. That's what Riko said. That's what Kokichi said. That's what Yuji tried to promise to Junpei. We want the characters we like to be happy, but to the ones with unhappy endings their story still matters.

Kokichi couldn't leave his room in the end, but even so there was still someone who loved him in Miwa, there's still someone who will remember him - and there's a power in someone who tried their hardest to live and love even if they failed in the end.

5. Mahito.

Anyway, now I'm going to praise the asshole that killed my other favorite.

Mahito is a frankenstein's monster like Dabi, he's just a little uglier. Mahito serves as an embodiment, a walking, breathing, id of human selfishness and desire. What's so interesting about his character are all his nasty traits are perfectly human ones. Human pettiness. Human jealousy. Human fickleness. The things that Mahito does are all things other humans do with each other. A confrontation with him is like an acknowledgement of just how terrible people can be to each other.

However, there's more to him than that Mahito is basically an infant, he is frankenstein's monster, a creation of humanity but distinctly not human and unaware of what he truly is. What I'm invested in is the potential of a character like Mahito. His starting point si the absolute worst of humanity, but humans are ore than just their bad traits. Just looking at the bad parts of people you're not looking at the whole truth. I'm interested in what kind of character that Mahito can grow into as he gains a wider view of the world around him, because he is a curious learning thing.

I actually hope we see him come back in canon after being eaten by Getwo, because there's a lot more that could be done with a character with so much potential as him.

[allisondraste]

Death and Other Things That Should Have Been Fatal

Fandom: Mass Effect

Pairing: Female Shepard/Garrus Vakarian

Word Count: 4715

Summary: A follow up to Cockroaches and Other Things That Just Keep Living, Shepard wakes up after destroying the Reapers and copes with the fallout. Thankfully, she doesn't have to do so alone.

[Click Here for AO3]

“Shepard?”

The voice was little more than static in her ear, jarring her back into excruciating consciousness, head throbbing, extremities numb.  Spears of pain coursed through her chest with each and every breath, and she didn’t know whether it was the several broken ribs or the sight of Anderson's lifeless body slouched next to her.  She tore her gaze away from the closest thing she’d ever had to a good father figure, eyes fluttering closed as she attempted to focus only on the person speaking to her.

“Garrus?”  His was the first name that rolled off her tongue, the only person in the galaxy she wanted that disembodied voice to be.

“No.” Came the stern reply.  There was a long pause as any hope for comfort in her final moments came crashing down around her.  Then the voice spoke again. “It’s Hackett.”

A jolt of resentment toward the Admiral coursed through her at his introduction.  What more could he possibly want from her?  Had she not already done enough, sacrificed enough for just a ghost of a chance to stop the reapers.  Surely someone else could take it from there.  Why did everything fall on her?

Because someone else would have gotten it wrong.

She shook herself out of her head and back to the present. She would have been mortified under normal circumstances, but she couldn’t bring herself to give a damn now. “I apologize sir, I’m— What do you need me to do?”

“The Crucible is docked, but is not activated,” he explained, “We think there’s something that needs to be done on your end.  Is there a trigger? Some sort of terminal?”

His words clung to the air around her, and her eyes locked onto the terminal the Illusive Man had used earlier.  It was just a few feet in front of her and still so far away. She tried and failed to bring herself to her feet, legs buckling beneath her and sending her plummeting to the floor.  Hot tears burned in her eyes as a new array of pain shot through her body, and she groaned in agony.

“Shepard?”

“I’m here, sir,” she growled, forcing herself up onto an elbow and dragging her body to the terminal, vision beginning to blur at the corners.. Not yet , she pleaded with her consciousness as she reached up toward the terminal, hand sweeping clumsily across the haptic display. Not. Yet.   “I’m at the terminal but I… I don’t— I can’t find—”

Her vision went dark, supporting arm trembling and giving out as her consciousness faded.  Hackett’s voice called out to her repeatedly, further and further away until it was gone entirely.

She awoke to bright, burning light, buzzing in her ears, sensations anyone else would have associated with death.  But Shepard had been dead before, and this was nothing like the last time.  She’d never forget that dark, quiet empty.

“Shepard,” shouted a voice, both familiar and foreign, “Wake up.”

“What?” Blood dripped into her eyes from a wound she couldn’t feel. “Where am I?”

She scrubbed her face with the back of her hand, blinking until her vision cleared.  Her body screamed in protest as she rose to her knees, louder still as she brought herself to her feet and searched for who—or what— had spoken to her.

“The Citadel,” came the reply, “It is my home.”

She snapped her head in the direction of the voice, it’s owner a glowing, translucent entity in the shape of a ghost.  Her heart slammed against her aching ribs, and a name rushed to her mouth before she could stop it. “Kaidan?”

The entity examined her for a moment that felt more like an eternity, long enough for her initial relief to fade, consumed by dread as she awaited its answer.

“No,” it stated in a cold, matter-of-fact way Kaidan could never have managed, “I am the Catalyst.”

Rage ignited in her stomach and chest at the sound of him twisted and distorted by a chorus of synthetic echoes, and she growled. “I thought the Citadel was the Catalyst.”

“The Citadel is part of me,” it explained, then paused, tilting its head in examination of her again, “My appearance disturbs you.”

Shepard let out a derisive snort. “Yeah. You could say that.”

“I apologize,” it said, “I chose a form that I believed would help us communicate. You had fond memories of this one.”

“Too fond.”  She looked down, unable to meet its vacant eyes. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

“Is this one more suitable?”  It’s voice shifted registers and when she glanced up Thane stood before her.

Hot tears burned in her eyes but she held them back and shook her head. “No.”

“Perhaps you would prefer this?” This time it’s tone was higher pitched, clipped.  Mordin.

“No,” she spat through clenched teeth, “I’d prefer if you’d just pick a nightmare and tell me whether you can help me or not. ”

“Very well,” it said, Kaidan once again as it motioned for her to follow after it toward the beam of light before them. “Perhaps we can help each other.”

She limped after it, listening as it spoke, as it explained its creation, it’s function, the purpose for its very existence.  It was nothing the Leviathan had not already revealed to her, but spun in a way that painted the Reapers as innocent pawns simply fulfilling their duty, wiping out entire civilizations to ensure galactic balance, to protect organic life from its own chaos.

Bullshit , she thought as flashes of destruction played behind her eyelids with each laborious blink.  She remembered the sinking void in her gut as she fled Earth, watching it burn beneath Reaper hands.  She thought of Palaven, the harrowed Turian faces as their military and government collapsed, the anger and disbelief that vibrated in Garrus’ voice and beneath his skin. She recalled Thessia, the most advanced civilization in the galaxy reduced to rubble before her eyes and she, helpless to even salvage one artifact, Liara’s anguished sobs as she trembled in her arms.

The Catalyst and its Reapers were responsible for every lost colony in Batarian space that Shepard had shouldered instead.  Every single face on the memorial wall at the Citadel, every orphaned child and refugee, every life touched by this goddamn war, and the lives of those in every cycle that came before— it was all their fault.  They had corrupted and indoctrinated some of the greatest minds of her time, broken some of the strongest wills.  She wondered what had been said to convince Saren and Benezia. What had the Catalyst become to take hold of The Illusive Man?

The echoes of Sovereign’s boasts of supremacy and Harbinger’s threats of annihilation rang out in her ears as clear as the days they’d been spoken. And this entity, this artificial intelligence with the power and capability to stop it all, expected her to believe they were simply creatures bound to a purpose. The Catalyst truly believed she would help it achieve its pinnacle of evolution.

No, just because it was in a shark’s nature to eat her, did not mean she would allow it to do so. Despite the original intent behind their creations, the Reapers were monsters, and they had to be stopped. The galaxy deserved justice. She took one lumbering step toward the trigger on the right, one step closer to settling things once and for all.

“It will happen again,” the Catalyst called after her, “Machines will be rebuilt, and chaos will continue. Organics and synthetics cannot coexist separately.

“That’s…not true,” she grunted, and took another step, “The geth and the quarians have brokered peace.”

“It will not last.”

“You don’t know that,” she shouted, fists clenched at her sides, “The beauty of chaos is that you can’t know that.”

The entity fell silent, briefly considering what she said, then continued. “Perhaps not; however if you choose to destroy the Reapers, the geth will be destroyed as well. The two will not have the opportunity to disprove your hypothesis.”

A pang of guilt pierced her and she halted in her tracks.“All of them?”

“Yes.  The Crucible’s beam is powerful but unfocused.  It will be unable to distinguish between Reaper technology and other forms of synthetic life.”

Another pang of guilt as realization dawned on her. That meant EDI would die, too. Someone who was every bit a friend and member of her crew as anyone else, someone who had put herself on the line multiple times to protect Shepard, to make certain she could get the job done.  EDI, who confessed just before the battle that she finally felt alive. Now, Shepard was forced to weigh her newfound life and the newfound intelligence of the geth race, against the destruction of the Reapers.

What was it Garrus had called it? Ruthless calculus, that brutal math that awaited anyone who spent enough time at war.  Shepard had done plenty of those calculations, had made more than her fair share of difficult decisions, and she’d dealt with the consequences, good and bad.

This time, it was different, more final.  And she was entirely alone.  The future of the galaxy lay upon her weary back, and she was far past the point of compromise.

Shepard wanted the Reapers to pay for what they had done for millennia, wanted to watch them disintegrate in space as the cheers of her fleet rang out over the comms.  She wanted to know with certainty that the war was over.

More than anything, however, and most heavy on her mind,  she wanted to survive. It was a potent wave of selfishness that overwhelmed her as she thought of her friends back on the Normandy, of the relationships she’d forged and that had forged her.  Her heart ached at the thought of never seeing them again, never hearing their voices. She was sick at the possibility that her last moments with those who had carried her through every storm were hurried and spent in a war torn camp on Earth.

Knowing that they were worried and waiting for her to return, remembering Garrus’ desperate plea that she come back alive, it was more than she needed to motivate her to do so.  For the first time in her three decades of life, she had something to go home to. She had given so much of herself to save the galaxy, and she had more than earned the right to live in it.

There was no certainty that destroying the Reapers would ensure her survival, but it was the only choice without the certainty that she would die.  She was willing to take her chances. She had to. With a trembling arm she raised her pistol, aimed at the glass case guarding the trigger mechanism, and fired.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered as the glass shattered and her vision faded to white. “I’m so sorry.”

Shepard had been dead enough times to know that sound always came first, the discomforting beeping of medical equipment and garbled chatter ringing out in the darkness as her nervous system attempted to orient itself. Smell and taste came next, a package deal.  This time the antiseptic and the metallic tang of blood barely masked the rank of burnt flesh.

Then the pain set in, dull but constant and everywhere, numbed only slightly by neural blockers and local anesthetic.  She did not need to see her injuries to know how serious they were, how fatal they should have been.  Yet there she lay, once again waking up from something that would have killed anyone else.

And she was alone.  Again.

She began to panic as her eyes opened to the empty, sterile room, setting off the many monitors she was hooked up to.  Her heart pounded violently, each breath she took sharp and shallow as she yanked herself free from the dozens of tubes and IVs constraining her. How long had she been out this time? What covert operation for which secret, extremist organization had found and resurrected her for their benefit? How much more could one galaxy ask of her?

There was a hiss of opening doors and an unfamiliar asari entered the room urgently, arms extended out in front of her.  In one breath she reassured Shepard that everything was going to be all right  and in the next called for a medical restraint, a sedative.  She stepped slowly toward Shepard as one would approach a frightened, feral animal, and two more uniformed aliens entered the room.  Shepard stood tall, despite the ache in her bones and glared at the three of them.

“Ma’am, I know you must be very disoriented right now, and I am happy to answer any and all of your questions,” the asari said, holding her hands up, “But you are in no shape to be out of bed.  I need you to calm down before you hurt yourself further.”

Shepard glanced from the asari to the two salarians on either side of her.  They all wore generic attire that was standard for medical professionals across the galaxy, but their uniforms had no indication of their names or who they worked for.  She crossed her arms and winced through the pain as she argued. “How about you start by telling me where I am, then I’ll decide if I want to calm down or not.”

Just as she finished speaking the doors opened again, this time to faces she knew, and the subsequent wave of relief that washed over her nearly knocked her back into the bed on it’s own.  On the right stood Dr. Michel, who she remembered helping out on several occasions during the Reaper War.  A bit sweet on Garrus, if she remembered correctly. On the left, wearing a smirk and a raised eyebrow, was none other than Miranda Lawson.

“Sit down, Shepard,” Miranda asserted in her trademark tone.  She flashed the hint of a smile and continued, “The residents aren’t being paid enough for you to harass them.”

Shepard’s eyes flicked over to the three aliens who’d been tending to her just moments before.  They were now speaking nervously with the doctor, who muttered something about tests they needed to run followed by some other medical jargon that Shepard couldn’t decipher.  She did as her friend directed and eased herself back down onto her bed, offering a sheepish grin as she did so. “I feel like such an ass.”

“Don’t,” Dr. Michel chimed in as she approached the bed, and began to scan Shepard with her omni-tool, “You have been in a coma for almost a month.  It was expected that you would be agitated when you awoke, especially considering everything you’ve been through.”

Shepard’s chest swelled with something like gratitude.  A month .  She’d only been out for a month, and she had woken up in what she could now tell was Huerta Memorial under the care of a physician she trusted and one of her closest friends.  This was nothing like the last time she died. She looked up at Miranda and asked,“Had to put me back together again, I see?”

“I only helped this time,” Miranda explained as she worked to reconnect some of the IVs Shepard had ripped out, “Dr. Michel contacted me a few weeks ago for a consultation about your cybernetic augmentation.  I was already on the Citadel, so I came in person to oversee the repairs.”

“Is everything working?”

“Mostly,” Miranda shrugged, “Not quite up to specifications, but your injuries are still healing. With time, you should be fine.”

“And hopefully far away from any more life-threatening battles, yes,” remarked Michel, moving to a terminal near the wall and transferring data collected from her omni-tool scans.

Shepard let out a huff, and let herself recline onto the bed, walls crumbling away at the comforting conversation.  She took a breath and let her eyes flutter closed for just a minute, and said, “If I can. If the galaxy will let me.”

“The galaxy’s going to have to,” announced an unmistakable voice from the door, and Shepard bolted upright to face it.  To face him .

She hadn’t even heard the door open, and yet there stood her turian, with all that easy confidence he’d always carried himself with and a bouquet of indistinguishable gift shop flowers in each hand.  Her pulse jumped, a fact the vitals monitor in the corner was quick to inform her and everyone in the room about. She would never live that one down.

“Garrus!”

“Is that cardiac arrest—“ he motioned toward the screen with one of the bouquets— “Or, uh… are you just happy to see me?”

Shepard just rolled her eyes, unable to stop the grin that twitched at the corners of her mouth as he sauntered up to the bedside.

“I wasn’t sure which you’d like better,” Garrus explained, glancing with uncertainty between the flowers in each hand, “So I got both.  There’s also some chocolate and a few books of hanar poetry back at the gift shop if you just absolutely hate the flowers. I can run back down and—“

She laughed and shook her head at him. “They’re perfect.”

“Are you sure?” He examined each bouquet again.  “You might need the poetry to bore you back into a coma.”

“I thought that anthology was quite beautiful and romantic, myself,” Michel remarked, amused.  She approached Shepard again and administered something that relieved the throbbing pain in her head she’d barely noticed in all the commotion. “There, that should keep you comfortable for a time. I will come and check on you in a  few hours ”

“I’ll be going as well,” Miranda said, eyeing Shepard and Garrus knowingly. “Call me if you need anything.”

She turned to follow the doctor out of the room but stopped and looked over her shoulder. “Oh, and Shepard?  I’m glad we got to see each other again “

Shepard nodded. “So am I.”

With that Miranda left the room, the door sliding shut behind her.  Shepard turned her gaze up to Garrus who was already looking at her, pale eyes scanning every inch of her face intently.  His mandibles twitched and flared in the very specific way they always did when he was agitated or worried.  He shook his head, discarded both bundles of flowers onto the nearby bedside table, and sat down on the edge of the bed next to her, staring off at the wall in silence.

“Shepard I— I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you woke up,” he said finally, turning to look at her and placing a hand on her leg, “I’d just gone to get some air…I didn’t want you to be alone.”

“It’s okay,” she reassured him, reaching for his hand and wondering just how many sleepless hours he’d sat by her bed waiting for her to come to. “You’re here now. That’s all that matters.”

He leaned forward and pressed his forehead to hers, lingering there for several long moments.  She brought a hand up to trace the rough ridges of scarring along the right side of his face.  His eyes fluttered closed at the touch, and he let out a heavy sigh, as if she’d lifted some invisible weight off of him with just the tips of her fingers.

“You know,” she spoke up, breaking the powerful silence between them, “I think I finally have some scars that’ll give you a run for your credits.”

Garrus laughed, but it was quiet—almost sad— and he pulled back to examine her.

“How bad is it,” she asked, “There aren’t any mirrors in here.”

He laughed again, this time with more enthusiasm. “Hell, Shepard, I don’t know. You always were ugly, so it’s hard for me to say.”

“Okay,” she admitted with a smirk, “I had that one coming.”

The room went quiet again, with the exception of the buzzing and whirring of the equipment around them.  It wasn’t uncomfortable, though— nothing had ever been uncomfortable with Garrus— but it was heavy with unspoken pain and unasked questions for which Shepard wasn’t sure she wanted answers.

“How’s everyone else,” she ventured.

“Recovering,” he answered with a sigh, “Joker tried to outrun the blast, but even the Normandy wasn’t quick enough.  Crash landed on some human colony world. Everyone made it except—“

“EDI,” she said, name bitter on her tongue. She’d hoped the catalyst had been lying about the Crucible’s effect on synthetic life.

“Yes… how did you—“

This time, she was not able to dam up the wave of emotions that crashed into her.  Tears rushed to her eyes, shame and remorse tightening her chest like a vice. She was a soldier, and she knew that sacrifices won wars, but that did not make it any easier.

“It’s a long story,” she said with a sniff, looking away from him and attempting to wipe away the tears before he could see them, as if he hadn’t already.

“Well—” Garrus reached out and grabbed her chin, gently, giving it a tug until she brought her gaze back to him. “It’s a good thing I cleared my afternoon schedule, then. Tell me everything.”

And so she did. With a shaky voice, she recounted everything that happened from the time she called the evac for Garrus and Liara to the moment she was struck by the Crucible’s blast.  She told him about The Illusive Man, Anderson, the Catalyst who wore Kaidan’s face, and the impossible choice she was given.  He listened to every word, offered her his hand, and didn’t complain as her grip grew tighter and tighter with each devastating revelation.

When she was finished, eyes swollen and head throbbing, she looked at him and said, “I fucked up, Garrus. I had a chance to save EDI and the geth, but I just… couldn’t do it.  I was so angry and… scared , and—“

“Shepard,” Garrus interrupted her, laughing and shaking his head.

“What?”

“You’re about the only person I know who could save the whole damn galaxy and feel guilty because you didn’t save it better.”

“My life isn’t worth more than EDI’s was, and it definitely isn’t more important than the entire geth race,” Shepard argued.

Garrus blinked back at her a few times, then responded.  “It is to me.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but the words didn’t come, so she clamped it shut and frowned.  Her entire argument fell apart in the wake of his blunt confession. How the hell was she supposed to respond to something like that?

“It was selfish,” she finally managed past the lump in her throat, “It was genocide.”

“Maybe,” he answered, firmly, “Maybe not. We have no way of knowing that anything the Catalyst told you was true.”

“Why would it lie?”

“I don’t know, maybe to save it’s own ass?”  His words were pointed but not directed to her.  “It was clearly trying to get in your head, Shepard, using Alenko like that.”

“But—”

“No,” he snapped, “You made the right call, and no one is going to fault you for it except you.”

“ Garrus …” she began, but trailed off when she noticed him looking down at their intertwined fingers, shaking his head and seeming to struggle with his emotions.

When he spoke up, his voice was hoarse.  “You’ll forgive me if I say I don’t think you owe anyone—not EDI, not the geth, not the Alliance, not the rest of the galaxy— any more than you’ve already given.”

He paused for a beat, then added in a lighter tone, “Except me. You owe me a long retirement on your fancy Alliance pension.”

Shepard snorted out a laugh, despite everything, and reached up to take his face in her hands.  She pulled him closer to her, just so that she could press a kiss against the side of his mouth.

“I’ll think about it,” she whispered.

Just as they pulled apart, the door opened and they both turned to see who had entered. Dr. Michel stood at the threshold smiling at them apologetically.  “I am sorry for the interruption, but—”

“Someone tell Garrus to quit hogging the Commander,” complained an all too familiar voice as he pushed past the doctor and into the room. “The rest of us have been waiting just as long as he has.”

“Joker,” Shepard exclaimed, nearly jumping up out of the bed to greet him.

“The one and only,” he said proudly then held up a small plastic crate to show her, “And I brought you something.  Basically had to wrestle the Alliance brass for it when they declared you dead.”

“What—,” she asked as she squinted at the box, noticing movement in the corner, “Is that my hamster?”

He sat the container down carefully on the table next to the flowers Garrus had tossed aside,  “It’s not two bouquets of useless flowers or anything, but, well…you know.”

“We can’t all be as romantic as you,” Garrus said sarcastically as he stood up and stepped away from the bed, allowing the other man space to approach Shepard.

“Thank you, Joker,” Shepard said with a nod as she sat up in the bed, “And about EDI, I—“

He cut her off with the shake of his head, clearly not ready to discuss it. “Not your fault, Commander.”

Shepard just nodded, sorry, but not wanting to force the issue.  Joker puffed his chest out and saluted her, just as more commotion rang out from the door.  She darted her eyes across the room again to see the flood of other people pouring in from the hallway.

Ash was the first to rush to the bedside, throwing appropriate Alliance protocol out the window as she threw her arms unceremoniously around Shepard.  The embrace was firm, but not so forceful that it caused her aching body any extra pain, and when Ash pulled away, Shepard could see the tears glistening in her eyes. She stiffened up and saluted just as Joker had done, and said “Ma’am.”

Much to Shepard’s surprise, Ash then approached Garrus and embraced him briefly as well, pulling away and then giving him a pat on the arm.

The others followed suit after that, offering words of gratitude that she had saved the galaxy, and relief that she’d managed to pull through.  Tali and Liara had followed Ash’s example and hugged her.  The others didn’t but greeted her with enthusiasm all the same.  Vega mentioned how “epic” it was when the fleet realized she’d made it to the Citadel and got the arms opened while Traynor and Cortez nodded along.  Javik, in his typical fashion stood quietly in the corner but nodded at her with a look of admiration she had yet to see from the Prothean.  Dr. Chakwas and the crew from engineering squeezed themselves in the now cramped space as well. Chakwas approached the bed and gave Shepard’s hand a firm squeeze.

Humbling was not a strong enough word to describe the experience of seeing everyone who’d been on the Normandy with her in that final journey to Earth gathered around celebrating her survival.  They had all meant so much to her, and only now did she realize that she’d meant the same to them.

She’d grown accustomed to being a sole survivor, watching her own back and carrying on alone with each of her mistakes strapped to her shoulders.  She was used to blaming herself with the voices of those she lost, of nightmares and flashbacks and consoling herself back to sleep in the middle of the night.  She had trained herself to be numb because she could not bear feeling guilty.

Now, she didn’t have to.  For the first time in as long as she could remember, she had people who cared about her, people who she trusted, and they had survived. For the first time, she wasn’t alone with her grief and she didn’t have to be numb.  She had friends who would hold her together while she sorted herself out, just as she had done for each and every one of them.

“You okay,” Garrus asked as he approached the bedside again, letting a hand tousle her hair gently before falling to her shoulder.

“Yeah.” She nodded and glanced around the room slowly, taking it all in. “I really actually am.”

[phy-be]

| treasured | a david/genya fic

my participation to the mini-bang for @grishaversebigbang ♡ This was so fun to write, and a million thank you to my two wonderful materialki! Please check out their amazing work:

@nuclearnik [link] @zemenipearls [link]

Rating: General Audiences Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Trauma, proposal, set between Ruin and Rising and King of Scars, Canon Compliant, david is a nerd and he loves his soul mate very very much, cw: nerdy descriptions of rocks, Grishaverse Minibang Summary:

“David, you didn’t have to…”

He frowned and cocked his head. “Yes, I did. It’s customary to gift a ring when asking someone’s hand in marriage.”

He was never good at understanding social norms, but he was pretty sure he’d gotten that one right.

David pressed the button on the side of his microscope goggles, switching the lens to a more magnifying glass. In the palm of his gloved hand, a crystal gleamed, like sparks of purple fire trapped in stone. The light hit each of its faces in slightly different ways, creating an explosion of colours and geometrical shapes. It was even more beautiful seen up close, when David could not only admire the beauty of the thing, but also the elegant laws of science that made the light refract just so.

Crystals were complicated to work with. Their beauty was due to a highly specific geometry at the molecular level, and any careless alteration could damage their inner core, breaking the stone or making it duller. Even if some were strong enough to cut glass, crystals were precious; they needed to be handled with the utmost care.

David loved working on crystals.

His quiet work was interrupted by anguished sobs coming from the bed.

Quickly, he slipped the stone in a bit of fabric and rushed from his desk. Genya was having another nightmare. Throwing off his glasses and gloves, he hurried to find her on the bed. He took her in a protective embrace as she sobbed, screamed, legs jerking in panic. She clawed at the air around, desperately chasing off a horde of invisible nichevo'ya.

“Stop,” she begged. She wasn’t talking to him.

David held her tighter. Every time he saw her this way, so anguished and pained, helpless to her inner demons, a bitter guilt settled in him, consigned in a single thought: I should have protected her.

Then the guilt faded into hot-white anger — at the Darkling, who had done this to her, who had known how much it would hurt and keep hurting her — until David discarded that emotion, too. Rage and regret were not useful feelings to linger on. Helping Genya get through this, making her pain more bearable — these were the only things that mattered.

Eventually her movements calmed, her hiccupping sobs turning into shallow breaths and silent tears. David caressed her hair, the auburn locks softer than any silk he’d ever felt, and dropped feather-light kisses on her forehead. Genya nestled closer to him, burying her face in his neck. He could feel the wetness of her tears trickling on his skin.

“You’re safe, dear,” he whispered, knowing that he would do everything in his power to make sure this would always be true, from now on. “You’re safe.”

Her grip tightened on his shirt.

“W-were you awake?” she said, her voice still shaken.

David recognized the change of topic as her way to distract herself from the nightmares that lingered in her wakefulness. He played along.

“Yes,” he said, kissing her hair. “I was working late.”

“It’s almost morning,” she murmured. “You work late a lot lately.”

“I’m working on a project.”

“What project?”

David hesitated; Tamar had said he was supposed to keep it a secret. Keeping anything from Genya was hard enough normally, but when she was vulnerable like this, it was downright impossible.

He got up to get the piece of fabric — Genya followed him out of bed, not wanting to let go of his embrace, and he smiled, endeared. Gently, he led her back to the bed, sat next to her, and put his creation in her open palms.

“It’s not finished,” he warned.

Genya carefully unwrapped the silk. Her eyes widened at the sight of the ring, a glistening band of grisha steel wrapping like branches around a rose-shaped stone. When she turned it to get a better look, the candlelight shining through the crystal switched its colour from red, to purple, to blue.

“I altered the refracting index at different levels of the structure to make the crystal polychromatic,” David explained, excited in spite of himself. “I’ve done this with metals before, but never with crystal. It still needs polishing before I can give it to you, though.”

Genya’s eyebrow shot up, looking shocked. “This is for me?”

“Of course.” He admired the ring against Genya’s hand, as beautiful as he’d expected. It would be perfect once she wore it. Silver and red always complemented her pale, rosy skin, the way gold and purple complemented the bronze colour of his own.

“David, you didn’t have to…”

He frowned and cocked his head. “Yes, I did. It’s customary to gift a ring when asking someone’s hand in marriage.”

He was never good at understanding social norms, but he was pretty sure he’d gotten that one right.

“Y-you’re—” Genya croaked, her skin visibly flushed, “you’re proposing to me?”

“Not right now,” David corrected. “Tamar told me it had to be a special moment, so I’m still working on the details of that.”

He’d been thinking of doing it at sunset, for one. The fiery hues of the sky when the sun slipped under the horizon always reminded him of Genya’s hair, and it would look good on the ring. He’d calculated which part of the palace would be the most adequate spot — a corner of the Summoner’s field provided the perfect exposure for the ring to reflect sunrays and shimmer beautifully — but he needed a reason to bring Genya there that wouldn’t alarm her. Tamar had suggested a picnic, which David had found confusing since they never ate on the training grounds, but Genya did enjoy it when he cooked for her.

His thoughts came to a brutal halt when he realized Genya was crying.

David blinked. Had he done something wrong? He was always so bad at this stuff — he couldn’t count how many times he’d offended someone without meaning to, but Genya usually saw past his awkwardness and understood his meaning.

“Genya…” he said, hesitant, “I’m sorry, did I…”

“You’d want to marry me?” she sniffled, eyes cast down, tears gliding down her cheeks.

David was even more confused. Tamar’s advice hadn’t covered that part. “Yes. Of course.” Had that not been clear?

“Why?” Genya met his gaze. “Why would you… We haven’t even been together that long, you can’t know —”

Like the unknotting of a rope, suddenly, David understood. This was just like the imagined nichevo'ya. She was panicked, sure that the worst was yet to come, that she couldn’t be safe in her own home.

Softly, he cupped her cheeks, bringing her closer. He wished he could take some of the burden that weighed on her, carry it on his shoulders instead of hers, for once; wished he knew the right words to make her feel better, the perfect formula to soothe her fear. But this burden was Genya’s, and David was never good with words. All he could say was the truth.

“I agree that our romantic relationship has not been exceedingly long,” he admitted. A year only accounted for a twentieth of their age so far. Five percent of a life, and some change. “But I have been in love with you for seven years, five months, and twelve days. Our friendship is even older than that,” he pressed his forehead against hers, “and I’ve wanted to marry you from the first time you kissed me.”

His lips brushed hers, an echo of that day at the Spinning Wheel, when the bravest woman in the world had first chosen him.

“I realized at the time that this wasn’t a rational impulse,” he conceded, “so I waited to see how our companionship would grow. I believe I’ve now waited long enough to know. I feel at peace in your company, and I want to make you as happy as you make me.” He pulled back a little, retreating his hands. “Unless you do not want that, in which case I will respect—”

Before he could finish, Genya pulled him into a kiss — the dizzying, head-spinning kind of kiss he’d only ever experienced with her. When she kissed him like that, arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders, lips flush and panting, David’s usually overworking mind would quiet, snuffed out like the wick of a candle, replaced only by her . Soft hair, delicate skin, lips scarred and still wonderful, her scent a unique aroma he’d come to associate with peace, with home.

“Of course I want to,” she whispered against his lips, smiling coyly.

David kissed that smile, then her cheek, then her temple. “I’m relieved to hear that,” he sighed. “I’ll keep working on that proposal, then.”

Genya laughed, sweet and bright — David didn’t care much for music, but he could have listened to Genya’s laugh for hours. He tucked the ring back in the fabric and put it on the nightstand, where it wouldn’t get lost in the sheets, then took off his shoes and his shirt.

They lied together, Genya’s body half on top of his, snuggling close, as though any space between them might bring in the cold.

Genya brushed her fingers on David’s chest, tracing some patterns.

“So,” she said, her voice now clearer, more sure of herself — Genya in daylight, where the monsters couldn’t touch her. “What was that about seven years, five months, and twelve days?”

“Oh, hm…” David said. He could feel his face heat up, and felt irrationally glad for the brown of his skin, unlikely to show any hint of a blush.

Still, he told her the story of that day. Genya had visited the Fabrikator’s laboratory to make a new cosmetic for the queen. She’d been thirteen years old, and already so creative with her powers. At the time David had only reproduced what his masters had taught him as perfectly as he could, never trying to invent, to create.

But there had been Genya Safin, the first of her kind, inventing everything she did.

It wasn’t the first time they’d met, not even the first time they’d enjoyed each other’s company, but it was the first time David had watched her work. He hadn't even bothered saying hi (which he now realized had been rather rude), too eager to ask her question about her experiment. They’d talked, and when David had gone on a long tangent about his favourite way to colour glass, Genya hadn’t been bored or made fun of his enthusiasm, the way the other students usually did if they bothered to listen to him at all.

She’d listened with care and attention, and then she’d given him her opinion — smart, succinct. Perfect.

“How do you even remember the day this happened?” Genya laughed. “It was so long ago.”

David caressed her shoulder, a soothing, circular motion. “I remember everything, when it comes to you.”

“Cheesy,” she grinned.

“Maybe.” He felt his lips quirk in a smile of his own. “But it’s true.”

She rose up to look at him, her expression turning serious.

“I love you,” she said, the words like a promise. “For even longer than that.”

Gently, David took her wrist, and kissed her palm. “Now, let’s not make it a competition.”

“Wise. You know I’d win.”

“My dear,” he smiled against her hand, “I think I share this victory with you.”

[itsclydebitches]

The thing that feels disingenuous about Miles answer about Ironwood is that he was part of the writing staff that framed the general as a cool character to start with. I do think that the signs about Ironwood's evil were clear since V2 and in V7 he was an outright dictator from episode 1. Nonetheless, he was still consistently framed as a cool character, someone you can trust and rely. You don't get to blame the fans for liking a genocide if you was the one framed him as cool in the first place.

I actually don’t think being cool is the problem. If we’re satirizing and/or making a  statement about the toxic masculinity that leads to something like a dictatorship, then being “cool” is a crucial part of that. People don’t leverage the power they have by looking lame, they do so by appearing desirable, enviable, awesome. Being in the military is supposedly “cool.” Being a white guy with a giant gun is supposedly “cool.” Having power over an entire nation is supposedly “cool,” etc. If you only make such characters look revolting  — even when they are  — then you miss one of the main recruitment tools for this kind of rhetoric. Any version of Ironwood that’s meant to make a point about the dangers of following someone like him needs to make him look “cool” and then deconstruct that, pointing out the ways in which this cool veneer is a lie meant to pull you in. To do otherwise is to claim that evil people are always easy to spot. Making your villains “uncool” implies that the people who do appear cool in real life must be fine then. That good looking, charismatic leader is great. Why would I look critically at his actions? He’s too cool to be evil. 

My personal problem is not that “They made the dictator look cool and we can’t possibly expect the audience to tell the difference between someone who is truly good and someone who is just using various Cool Points to skate by” because that would be the point of such a character  — the work the show needs to do. My problem is that RWBY didn’t do that work. At least, not to the extent they needed to. Rather than making Ironwood a truly heinous character (prior to Volume 7 ‘s shooting, I mean) and allowing the audience to learn how appearing cool can’t hide that, they just made him good person. Straight up. Flawed, absolutely, but no worse than any of the other character on screen, particularly post Volume 6 when our heroes are frequently putting people in danger, seizing power, telling lies, keeping secrets, and generally acting in the ways we’re supposedly meant to condemn Ironwood for. Since talk of Miles’ vid last night I’ve seen three separate “Ironwood was always bad, idk how people can miss the signs” posts and those people are half right. There 100% were signs we were meant to pick up on. The problem is RWBY then went and deconstructed those signs. Ironwood didn’t just bring an army to a peace festival, he brought an army to an event he had good reason to believe wasn’t peaceful  — and he was right. Ironwood didn’t wrest control from Ozpin (using a series of checks and balances that exist for this very purpose...) because he has an obsession with being in control, he did so because he honestly believed Ozpin was putting people in danger  — and he was right. Ironwood didn’t step up post-Fall because he arrogantly believes he’s the only one capable of saving Remnant, he did so because he’s actually the most qualified: a fully trained huntsmen leading an Academy (like Ozpin) with an army and knowledge of this secret war. What, was Ironwood supposed to read the script and wait for the group of dropout teenagers to arrive and save the world instead? To say nothing of how his power and responsibility are framed as sacrifices, not something he sought out. Ironwood doesn’t want to be the sole ruler here. His desperate relief at having allies again proves it. Good setup for the rise of a dictator would have been Ironwood being cagey with his information and exerting control over the group... not telling them everything, not giving them more power, not letting them keep the Lamp, not taking arrest off the table so as to keep them in line, and generally doing the opposite of everything he did do to share that responsibility and power. RWBY got very good at giving us the first half of these red flags  — he has an army, he’s stubborn, he’s hurting Mantle, etc.  — but then time and time again introduced a context that changed that flag dramatically: they are fighting literal monsters, he’s no more stubborn than our title character, hurting Mantle is a consequence of a plan he thinks will help the whole world and our heroes back this. Those who insist that Ironwood was 100% a villain in the making (or a villain already) prior to shooting Oscar are working from their assumption of what his archetype represents, not what RT actually put on screen. Because RT is just really bad at writing a dictator character. They didn’t have the skill to manage someone who only appeared good on the surface, let alone a character with the complex nuance of wielding “coolness” to their advantage, which is why in Volume 8 they had to resort to cartoon villainy with literal, evil spotlights. It’s not that the audience is too dumb to pick up on those red flags, it’s that RT couldn’t manage to plant them without continually introducing valid justifications. You can’t say, “Bringing an army is a bad thing. Look at this dictator coding!” without me going, “Yeah, except in the fictional world you created an army does not represent the problems it does in our real life societies. This isn’t a guy amassing soldiers to go after oil, he’s trying to protect people from monsters. Not even metaphoric monsters acting as stand-ins for a minority group. Literal, evil monsters!” RWBY ignores its own context and a good chunk of the fandom ignored it too. 

The problem with that (besides the general frustration of someone ignoring parts of canon to forward a particular reading) is that the fandom’s go-to claim is that everything is meaningful  — and it’s a reading the writers very much support. Fans do not, as the above attests, push for a simple reading of, “Don’t think too hard about it. Just take the surface reading and run with it” which, while still frustrating, would have at least been a valid stance. Rather, they insist very strongly that nuance and depth are what drive the show. From the song lyrics to a tiny detail in the opening, everything is important and if you don’t accept that then you can’t appreciate RWBY’s complexity. 

“Okay,” I said. “Then in that case Ironwood coming around to Ozpin’s position is meaningful too? Glynda  — one of our best and most faultless characters  — supporting him is meaningful? Flipping his gun, defending Weiss, Qrow writing to him, the group working with him for months on end... all of it is meaningful to his characterization? You said so yourself.” 

“No, no, no,” comes the reply. “He’s just bad. But he’s also nuanced. He’s tricked you into thinking he’s a good person by acting kind sometimes, by getting support sometimes, but none of that is true. His actions are what matter and his actions are simplistically bad.” 

“Ohhhh. So then does that mean this story is really about the creation of a villain?” 

“Huh?” 

“Well, Ruby. She’s ‘nuanced’ in the same way. She acts kind sometimes and gets support, but her actions are terrible. She endangered an entire city because she couldn’t wait to see if Ironwood got his letter. She condemned Ozpin for keeping secrets about Salem and then kept those same secrets just two days later. When the kingdom was under attack she sat around drinking tea, crying on a staircase, just hoping someone would come fix things for her  — all while actively sabotaging the one person who was trying to save people, even if that action seems silly to us (let’s fly really high). So if we’re looking at the impact of someone’s actions outside of their intent, as we just did with Ironwood, then she’s a bad guy too, yeah?” 

“No! She’s the hero!” 

“... these characters don’t know she’s the hero from a meta perspective. If we’re supposed to judge the meaning of RWBY based on these details — ” 

“But it’s not just the details. It’s also the allusions. Everyone in RWBY is based on another person or character. It’s very complex and that inspiration drives their story, so if you don’t have that information it’s no surprise you’re confused. For example, this is why Penny had to get a human body. That’s what happened to Pinocchio!” 

“Oh! So then Ironwood is destined to be a good guy!” 

“What?” 

“Well, you just said the allusions drive their stories, right? The whole point of the Tin Man is that he always had a heart and just needed to realize that. So clearly — “ 

“No! He’s supposed to be a classic dictator, he’s only bad!” 

And ‘round and ‘round we go. RWBY’s writing is atrocious yet the fandom pushes this narrative that it’s all a complex, multi-layered story that requires taking every part into account to understand the “real” message... but when you try to do that with certain characters like Ozpin and Ironwood it’s, “No, actually, they’re just simple archetypes of Bad Men.” Nuance exists for the bees, but not other ships. It exists for the characters fans like, but not the ones they don’t. And RWBY’s inspirations have to predict the ending for this character... but not that other character. It’s a nonsense grab bag! 

Fans are right that Ironwood had a lot of red flags to set up this downfall. Fans are also right that those red flags were severely undercut, thus reversing their impact. Fans are right that Ironwood becomes a 100% bad guy who kills because he can and threatens to bomb a city. Fans are also right that this characterization feels absurd for Ironwood, both in terms of his morality and his intelligence (how does bombing Mantle help you now??) Ironwood is badly written. He was badly written in 7 and 8, if he was always meant to be a dictator in the making then he was badly written in 2-6, and he’s conclusively badly written when it comes to lacking a backstory and a canonical semblance  — two things are are supposedly driving all of this characterization. That’s the answer: not that he’s good, or bad, but that RWBY can’t write a consistent character, let alone a nuanced one, so it’s no surprise the fandom can’t decide on anything. What’s there to decide on? It’s that nonsense grab bag. In a different show I think making the dictator appear cool would be a crucial bit of commentary, but RWBY doesn’t have the skill to pull that off.