#I feel I should make it clear that this is parody and no way intended to convey any particular accuracy to the books 😅😂 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

wakaoujisenhime · 3 years ago

Text

Just once - Choso x reader

Synopsis: At a party you get roped up by your classmate Momo to conduct a summoning ritual for a demon she assigns you. Though unwilling, you still comply and do as instructed. Unfortunately for you, the ritual you hoped to debunk as pure nonsense unexpectedly worked out...

tags/warnings: Choso x reader ✅ blood kink ✅ (slight) blood/knife play ✅ (and for the more sensitive readers a tw.) a more or less detailed description of skin being cut open ✅ more erotic than nsfw ✅

A/N: I just needed an excuse to write for my main man Choso and thanks to @seijorhi and her Deal with the Devil collab I found the opportunity! Please enjoy and make sure to check everyone else’s wonderful works out as well!! (〃ω〃)

.wc 5.4k

━━━━☆ ━━━━☆ ━━━━☆

Booming music, colorful and constantly changing LED lights, people who were either drunk or high, in some cases even both, surrounded you. Such a sight wasn’t unfamiliar to you since most university students celebrated their monthly parties in the same fashion. You weren’t a regular participant in these events, but tonight you just wanted to let loose and dance the stress, which had accumulated this past week, away.

After doing what you came for, you went up to the small bar, ordered a drink, and disappeared into the crowd to look for someone you were familiar with. And truly, you spotted two familiar faces in one of the gigantic room’s corners. The pair you were now walking towards consisted of Megumi and Momo. It was truly rare to see these two together let alone see them talking to each other while others surrounded them, but you figured that in such get-togethers nothing was impossible.

“Hi there you two, how are you doing?” you asked the moment you joined their small group.

Megumi greeted you with a small nod and a rather tortured expression that was most likely supposed to represent a call for help, but before you could find out more about that, Momo took a hold of both of your hands and squeezed them slightly as she said: “(Y/N), you’ve got a perfect timing as always! We were just discussing our summoning plan and we needed one more participant, so pleaseee could you do us the favor and join us?”

To clear up your obvious confusion, the black-haired young man explained to you that the group, which surrounded you, had talked about the occult before they reached the topic of demon summoning rituals and eventually ended up wanting to try different ones out themselves.

You found it rather funny that someone like Megumi had been caught up in such a talk, but it wasn’t surprising, considering that he had two tattoos, which resembled some kind of triangular runes on the back of his hands, dressed entirely in black, and had a rather dark and gloomy aura that surrounded him. Though many people avoided him, thinking that he was really scary, you knew that he was one of the nicest people you’ve come across and that his mood was heavily influenced by his rather lively best friends who often embarrassed him in public, just so that he could remain by their side.

Momo on the other hand was notorious for her fascination with the occult and supernatural phenomenons in general. Not only was she always dressed in a stereotypical way for those who shared the same fascination as her, but she also preferred to make it known rather than hide it. Threatening people to curse them if they annoyed or attacked her in any way, openly experimenting on self-made voodoo dolls, and carrying various charms with a questionable appearance as accessories for her backpack were some of her many daily characteristic features she displayed. The two of you weren’t especially close, but you were one of the few who understood her true intentions and beliefs that were hiding beneath her many layers.

“I’m not quite sure if I’m the best fit for this...task, maybe you should pick someone else” you finally said with an apologetic smile on your lips, but the blond simply brushed your refusal off with a wide grin.

“Oh, nonsense! There’s no such thing as the ‘perfect fit’ in stuff like that, anyone with an intention of summoning is enough!”

And with that, you were now one of the participants.

After basically being forced to comply, your group sat at a remote table and discussed the upcoming procedures. Throughout the entire talk, both you and Megumi simply chatted with each other and half-heartedly agreed to anything the others asked of you. By the end of it all, you two were stuck with individual books about the entities you were supposed to summon.

“So, who did you get?” you asked after taking a glance at your own rather thin book.

“Apparently, I’ve been given the privilege to attempt a summon of ‘The King of curses’, what about you?”

You couldn’t help but giggle at the sarcastic way the young man had quoted his book’s title and answered that yours didn’t even have a fancy name like that, and just went by “The Blood Devil”.

The two of you stayed at the party for another half an hour during which you basically complained about your individual lives and then slowly but surely made your way back home…

——

With a somewhat relieved sigh, you remove your shoes from your feet and throw them in the corner of your entryway. Your hands massage the back of your neck slightly while you slowly make yourself on the way to your bedroom. It was no secret that you were fatigued enough to just drop everything and fall asleep right then and there, but your conscience nagged you like some kind of parental figure, whispering one order after the other until you just gave up and decided to do everything the proper way.

After leaving your bag on the chair next to your desk, you quickly get rid of your slightly sweaty clothes and enter your bathroom to take a much-needed warm shower, in hope that it would help you relieve some tension. And it did.

A couple of minutes later you exit the steamy room and start getting ready for bed. Just as you were about to turn off your room’s lights, the book Momo had given you caught your attention. After motionlessly standing in one spot for what felt like half an hour, you cursed your curiosity and took said book out of your bag, and began skimming through its contents.

You didn’t intend to read more than necessary, just the first page which warned you of possible risks should’ve been enough, but the moment you had continued past it, it was as if you couldn’t stop yourself anymore. This book that supposedly held dangerous information on how you’d be able to summon some kind of otherworldly entity seemed like some kind of fairytale collection to you.

The first chapter talked about some kind of man who had made use of a woman and her unborn children, a pretty disturbing and inhuman act that you skipped for the most part. Next in line was a whole chapter dedicated to these nine unborn and mostly undeveloped children, the tragic story of them getting locked up in jars, and how only three of them had managed to gain some kind of stability (if you can even call it that). Finally, the third and last chapter before the entire ‘How-to-prepare-the-ceremony’ segment focused solely on the eldest brother and how he’d successfully escaped his dire fate and had become the being known as the ‘Blood Devil’.

Now that you had reached the end of the introductory phase, the preparations for the ritual awaited you, and even though you hadn’t intended on trying your luck with summoning the same night you had received the book, you decided to just do it as quick as possible so that Momo didn’t feel the need to bother you daily with how far you’d gotten.

Shortly after you had gathered the needed materials and had prepared the requested furnishings for the ceremony. With the booklet in one hand, you once again checked whether everything you needed was fulfilled.

Four candles, a small table, a bowl, a kitchen knife, and some salt...Ok, that should be all

Looking at the items before you, you couldn’t help but wonder whether this ritual had indeed some kind of truth behind it and wasn’t just one of many parodies.

With this slightly uneasy feeling, you once again took a look at the list.

𝙵𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚛𝚎𝚍/𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚔 𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚕𝚎𝚜, 𝚊 𝚠𝚘𝚘𝚍𝚎𝚗 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎 (𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚋𝚔𝚢 𝚊 𝚜𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎), 𝚊 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚋𝚘𝚠𝚕 (𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚢 𝚖𝚊𝚍𝚎 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚌𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚌 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊 𝚟𝚘𝚕𝚞𝚖𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝟹𝟶𝟶-𝟻𝟶𝟶𝚖𝚕), 𝚊 𝚔𝚗𝚒𝚏𝚎 (𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚢 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚠𝚊𝚟𝚢 𝚋𝚕𝚊𝚍𝚎), 𝚝𝚠𝚘 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚏𝚞𝚕 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚊𝚕𝚝 (𝚙��𝚎𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚢 𝚜𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚊𝚕𝚝)

For a ritual to have such specific instructions, it’s quite...unusual, isn’t it?

The required items weren’t the only detailed requirements you had to fulfill, secondary things that mainly concerned the atmosphere were also important to consider. Things such as the right room temperature, the dark lighting of the room you’d use for the ritual, the exact sequence of preparing the summoning circle and its unique symbols, and many more were enumerated just below the first bulleted list.

You set your worried thoughts aside, deciding to just humor this ritual and complete it to the best of your abilities, because the satisfaction you’d feel after this summoning ceremony fails despite you doing your best, would be indescribable. And with that, you began preparing everything step by step, double and triple-checking the book for confirmation until everything was ready.

With a sigh of satisfaction, you take a step back to admire what you had just spent half an hour on. You had placed the table in the middle of your room, the red candles positioned on each of its edges, on top of the wooden surface you’d drawn the circle as good as you could with your slightly trembling hand, and lastly, you’d placed the bowl on the floor in front of where you were to kneel with the knife on top of the rim of the receptacle.

Here goes nothing…

You kneeled and put the book beside you. With slightly shaky hands you took the knife and cut a horizontal line along your palm, as expected it stung a little but the pain wasn’t something unbearable. Slightly fascinated by the deep red color of your blood you watched the liquid slowly roll down your hand and drip into the empty bowl, staining its white material. As instructed by the book you poised in that position until your wound started to congeal and that was when you were finally allowed to relax yourself and continue.

Next up you had to pour the collected blood over the salt circle and retrace its lines and patterns as precisely as you could, which you did. Now that this step was done as well, you looked at the completed handiwork and sighed to yourself, dreading the thought of having to clean all of this up later on.

You took another glance at the instructions and couldn’t help but cringe internally at the next and supposedly final step.

Alright then, let’s get this over with…

“With this humble offering I, (Y/N)(L/N), hereby summon thou. Oh, Devil of blood please, hear this mortal’s desperate plea and allow me to bear witness to thyn unique countenances that thee possesses.”

And with this the ritual was complete.

You remained motionless, waiting for something to happen, but everything stayed the same and you couldn’t help but embrace that internal relief inside of you which was silently thankful for the failure.

Just as you were about to get up from your uncomfortable pose and begin to clean everything up, the candles’ flames suddenly went out before your very eyes and without your influence. With slightly wide eyes you scanned everything before you. You knew that you had closed the windows before even starting the ritual, so that eliminated one possible reason and at the same time, the most rational one.

As nothing else happened you decided to simply blame it on your imagination and slight paranoia, but that’s when the faint sound of bubbling liquid ruined that small ray of hope you’d held on to. You slowly looked down at the bowl which was filled with your blood and you could’ve sworn that the deep red substance was slowly rising until it overflowed.

All you could do was back away from the red puddle which was steadily growing and showed no signs of stopping anytime soon.

“W-What the hell is happening?” you asked yourself in panic as your wide eyes observed the way your blood began forming something, or better said, someone.

The mass before you began to take form and it was then that you noticed the knife which was lying a few inches away next to the inhuman heap.

Driven by nothing but adrenaline you began crawling towards it and just as you were about to reach for the blade, something similar to a hand took a hold of your wrist. You jumped back in shock and fell rather uncomfortably on your bottom as you looked up to the blood-covered thing, watching its appearance slowly contort into that of a human.

And there before you stood a tall man with shoulder-long dark hair, a rather tired expression on his face, and his most prominent feature, a dark stripe running horizontally across his nose bridge. His eyes were focused on you for the first few seconds, then he began looking around as if to take in his surroundings.

“Where am I? …were you the one that summoned me? …what is it that you require me to do?” he asked in a monotone voice, not giving you even a second to collect yourself. Your panic didn’t allow you to form any rational thoughts, let alone answer him properly, and all you had in mind right now was to run away from whatever this person in front of you was.

The man watched how pale your face had become and simply stood there motionless, as you sloppily got up and sprinted out of your room’s door. He cast his gaze down to the knife you had intended to pick up and cracked an ever-so-small smile before leaving the room himself.

Meanwhile, you had reached your front door and were hurriedly trying to unlock it, but the multiple bolts and your trembling hands were set on making you fail such a simple task.

When you finally turned your keys for the last time, a big hand slammed the wooden door shut. The weight that pressed against your back made it unable for you to move away, so you simply leaned your forehead on the door in defeat, knowing fully well who had stopped you in your tracks.

I’m finished…

Now that the man behind you had rendered you more-or-less immobile, he decided to take a proper look at you and your body. His eyes traveled slowly along every curve, no matter how small or voluptuous, until something far more interesting caught his eye. Your injured and slightly bloody hand that still bore the cut you had to inflict on yourself for the ritual and even though the wound had begun to slowly close, it was still bloody enough for his preferences.

He removed his palm from the door and slowly let it slide down from your shoulder to your slightly trembling hand. The way his long fingers wrapped around your wrist made you shudder and as if that wasn’t enough, he also had to slowly turn you around so that he didn’t hurt your arm or dislocate your shoulder.

Now that you were facing the man, you couldn’t help but stare directly at him and the way he inspected your wound. His gentle touch contradicted his looks as well as every thought you had about him, but that animalistic glint you noticed in his eyes failed to hide his true nature.

With utmost care he let his fingers glide along the cut and if it weren’t for the unpleasant sting, you wouldn’t have noticed that with this small motion he had peeled off the thin layer of blood, which was trying to close up your wound. Despite your slightly agape mouth, no words were uttered, I mean, how could you?

The man in front of you had reverted that small amount of red crust to its original liquid form and then by some magic turned it into a wonderful red ruby that resembled a bonbon. His dark eyes peered right into yours and didn’t even waver in the slightest as he slowly brought the red stone to his lips, gave it an experimental lick, and finally swallowed it.

D-Did he just…?

Judging by the satisfied expression on his face you thought that he would finally step aside and at least introduce himself or give you some sort of explanation as to what he just did and why, but no. The way he did nothing else and simply waited for some kind of reaction, annoyed you and it didn't take you long to act accordingly.

“Now that you’ve got what you came for, would you mind moving out of my way?” you asked in a rather unfriendly tone, one that completely contradicted your earlier fear of this still nameless entity.

Your behavior not only surprised the man but yourself as well. Summoning a literal demon wasn’t your typical everyday occurrence and yet you couldn’t quite comprehend it. The fear that should’ve rendered you immobile was good to non-existent and you figured it was thanks to his surprisingly tame and innocent behavior, so it was only natural for you to be in the illusion of holding the reins, right?

And that arrogant behavior of yours only escalated further as you managed to push the man to the side and finally get away from your front door.

Being as naive as you were, you turned your back to him and not even a second later your entire body’s movement was shut down. No matter how hard you tried to move your legs, hands, or even fingers, nothing seemed to work - no, on the contrary, it appeared to you that the more you struggled against this seemingly invisible force, the harder it became for you to breathe.

“If you don’t want to collapse and die, you’ll need to seize all of your movements for the time being,” said the lean man in a low voice, and the moment his eyes met yours, you could’ve sworn that the corners of his lips shot upwards for a split second before he continued, “…since you’re already aware of my abilities, I’ll skip most of it and directly tell you the two most important things you’ll need to keep in mind from now on.”

Without waiting for any type of signal that could’ve represented your answer, he closed the distance between you two, and this time he got so close that you could practically smell him. Contrary to your expectations his scent was fairly faint and by no means unpleasant. If confronted with the question of what he smelled like, you’d have to say it resembled that of burning wood.

You watched helplessly as the man showed you the slightly bloody knife you had used for the ritual and that’s when the long-awaited fear suddenly overcame you. With widened eyes, you followed the blade which was mere inches away from the center of your chest, and the moment you felt the small tip pierce your shirt a silent yelp escaped your lips.

Not fazed by your obvious fear, the man proceeded with whatever he had in mind and moved the knife until it had reached your shoulder, cutting the thin fabric along the way. In response to his cold fingers that glided along your exposed shoulder and collarbone, goosebumps peppered your skin. Your heartbeat quickened and you didn’t know whether this was because of the fear of what he’ll do next or because you were kinda curious about what’s about to come.

Still unable to move a single muscle there was nothing left for you but to watch and feel how the blade was pressed against your skin until it had cut through it. The fact that he’d cut so close to your heart made it hurt more than your harmless cut earlier, but as if that wasn’t painful enough he began to slide the blade up until its tip had reached the top of your right shoulder.

Your throat dried up, muffling the scream you so badly wanted to release. A stream of warm tears ran along the curves of your cheeks and dripped down to your cleavage, where a rather thin but bloody line had split your skin open.

“I can control your blood flow and if I so desire, I can make you move your limbs according to my wishes…to put it simply, by summoning me with your blood, you made yourself my marionette.”

His expressionless eyes followed the many thin blood droplets that oozed out of your wound and just before they were able to stain your clothes with their deep scarlet color, he extended his finger, positioning it mere millimeters away from your skin. Through half-closed eyes, you watched in awe as your blood was being drawn to the fingertip of the man like a magnet and slowly turned into the same gem-like form from before. Your injury still hurt, but as you dared to take a slight glance at it, you noticed that all the blood was gone, sucked up by the finger of the demon, and turned into a shimmering stone that was once again swallowed like candy.

——

Some weeks passed after that surreal encounter and since then you’d been more or less forced to live with the entity you’d summoned. On that night he’d introduced himself as Choso and despite your desire to either send him back to wherever he came from or simply throw him out, neither option was going to end well. According to the man himself, summoning rituals were easier to conduct than the ones to banish demons back into the abyss. You would need to take several precautions into account and in Choso’s case, you’d have to fulfill nearly impossible tasks, such as collecting 20 liters of blood from pure-blooded siblings or finding and freeing one of his many siblings.

Your second option of throwing him out was dismissed almost momentarily after he’d told you that he can’t survive without consuming someone’s blood; ideally, he’d only have to take a small amount of your blood once a week, but if you insisted on kicking him out, then he’d have to attack random people and since they didn’t summon him, the amount of blood he’d have to take from them would be fatal.

Living with a demonic entity was surprisingly pleasant, but you knew that this was most likely because of the man’s personality and that if you’d summoned someone else, it would’ve most likely ended up way differently.

He was taking his role as the eldest brother very seriously and despite not being part of his family, he treated you very lovingly and even willingly took on most of the homework, but only that which he was familiar with, such as sweeping the floor or washing the dishes. Whenever he behaved like that, you found it difficult to remember the fact that he was some type of devil and sometimes you even caught yourself thinking how you wished he’d stay with you forever. It was good to have someone living under the same roof as you, someone you could more or less trust with your possessions, and someone to lie down next to in the evening.

But despite these few perks you noticed how your health slowly started to deteriorate. Simple tasks such as homework, reading texts, or concentrating during lectures; things you usually mastered almost effortlessly, became more and more difficult with each passing week, and the reason for that was none other than Choso.

Being his weekly food source didn’t come without any risks.

He’d warned you that the amount of blood he’d take from you and then consume, won't be automatically regenerated by your body and that if you refused his help, you’d slowly die away. Being the rational human you were, you didn’t believe him, thinking that something like your blood being slowly taken away by him was sheer impossible, so you refused his offer of help even before he’d properly explained it.

A mistake you slowly came to regret.

This morning you had felt as if someone was constantly hitting your head with a thick book, your body felt so heavy that your usual walking speed had decreased drastically and because of it you were ten minutes late for your first lecture.

You figured that your appearance must’ve been quite horrible, since your usually uninterested teacher, Sir Nanami, actually stopped mid-sentence to ask whether you were feeling ok and whether you wanted to go to the nurse’s office for a while. You wanted to brush it off, but as soon as you shook your head, your vision blurred and you felt like you were losing the ground under your feet. Luckily, your seat neighbor Maki reacted quickly and held onto you before you fell from your chair. Anything that occurred afterward was lost to you and the next time you came back to your senses, you found yourself on your bed, wrapped warmly in your blanket.

“What…happened?” you asked half loud, not expecting an answer, as you slowly sat upright, leaning your back on your bed’s headboard and letting your eyes roam around the familiar surroundings.

“You lost consciousness during your class,” said a silent and gentle voice, “thanks to our…contract, I felt that you were close to collapsing, so I followed the scent of your blood and when I found you, I took you back home.”

While you were processing the information you were given, Choso slowly walked towards your bed and kneeled next to it, placing one of his hands on top of your own, softly caressing it in the process. You couldn’t help but crack a small smile at the gesture and sighed as you imagined how he must’ve entered your classroom, ignoring everything and everyone and simply coming to your seat, taking you in his arms, and leaving, as if it’s the most normal thing to do.

“I told you to be careful, didn’t I?” His sudden question caught you off guard and all you could do was look down in shame. Seeing you look so sad and crestfallen reminded Choso of his younger brothers and he instinctively reached for the top of your head with his free hand and softly petted it a few times before caressing it. Being comforted by a demon-like that truly did wonders. For once you ignored the fact that it was partially his fault and savored the moment.

“I know that you didn’t want to hear about it, but in view of your wellbeing I’m obligated to tell you about a way you can minimize the harm done to you” he paused and took a short breath before continuing, “if we make a proper deal with each other, I’m allowed to share a portion of my blood with you and that will make up for the amount I’m taking…but it’s not risk-free.”

This time it was you who had to take a long breath, a futile attempt to make your heartbeat calm down. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise to you that a deal with the devil contains several risks, but the fact that Choso was willing to tell you about them, relieved you in a way. Before reluctantly accepting his offer you requested a more detailed explanation for your own mind’s peace. According to his words, the danger of consuming a demon’s blood was very addictive, and if not done properly, the human risks becoming entirely dependent, meaning, they would prefer blood instead of real food or water.

The thought of not being able to eat and drink what you loved scared you of course, but the wish to gain a sense of normality back in your life prevailed and you eventually caved, telling him that you’d agree to his terms and drink his blood just once and never again…

At first, everything seemingly worked out. Your focus was back and you could once again dedicate yourself fully to university and friends. You were happy…but not for long.

One week passed and your throat began to feel raspy and dry. Accompanying these uncomfortable feelings was the undying urge to constantly drink something and whenever your drinking bottle was empty, you’d get really nervous and start nibbling on your lip. But the worst part of it all was how you’d caught yourself, thinking about wanting to bite Choso and lick the blood right out of the wound like some kind of vampire.

“What the hell is wrong with me..?” you thought to yourself while you gently let your hand run along the man’s head. He looked up at you for a mere second before he continued to enjoy his “meal”. A small and barely visible blush adorned your cheeks as soon as you realized what kind of situation you found yourself in right now.

The man, whose head you had just caressed, was kneeling between your thighs, a small portion of your plush flesh between his teeth. He bit down until they pierced through it and drew blood. All the while your eyes followed every ever so small movement of his’s until the big red droplets of blood caught your attention. The two of you observed how they slowly grew larger than Choso’s teeth marks and finally began dripping down your slightly raised leg.

With an unexpected smile, the man bent down and licked the blood from your skin before it stained anything. Your breath hitched for a moment and usually, you’d either look away or close your eyes while he got his weekly portion, but this time you couldn’t help but downright stare at him as he sucked on your small wound. It shouldn’t have surprised you to see someone enjoying themselves when they eat, even if that someone was a supernatural entity, but this was the first time you had properly looked at Choso while he consumed your blood and for some reason, your heart started beating faster than ever before.

You bit your lower lip as you watched how his slightly longer tongue slithered over the bloody marks on your thigh and the way he sometimes planted a soft kiss on it made you shiver from pleasure. Your body became gradually hotter, resulting in you having to breathe harder, and the slight red that had tainted your cheeks had now taken on a deeper shade.

“C-Choso…I need your blood, please” you stuttered out of nowhere in between your labored breaths.

At the mention of his name all of his movements seized and the man’s eyes slowly moved up to your reddened face. After what felt like minutes of pure silence, he let go of your leg, licked his lips, and removed the scarf around his neck.

While he was getting himself ready for you, you looked at his pale skin and the black markings, which resembled Kinesio tapes that athletes sometimes used, running along it.

Your impatience got the best of you and without wasting a second you got on your knees and faced him while he began looking around for something. Meanwhile, you were unable to focus on anything at all. Your eyes wandered from his face, down to his neck, along his collarbone and shoulder, and then back to his face yet again.

That something he searched for turned out to be the knife you’d used for his summoning ritual. He handed you the blade with the same stoic expression as always, but instead of taking it, you slapped it away and next thing you knew, you had wrapped your arms around his torso and had buried your teeth deep inside of his shoulder’s skin. The only reaction you got from him was a simple flinch as a result of your sudden embrace and nothing more, no sound, no sigh, nothing.

But as of right now this was the last thing that occupied your mind, all you wanted to do was drink this man’s blood and finally quench the thirst you’d been suppressing for so long.

“That’s it, (Y/N)…satisfy your thirst…give in…don’t be afraid, it’ll only do you good” he cooed seductively in your ear as he let his big hand softly glide along your back.

With a devilish smile, he listened to the hungry way you lapped up the blood from his multiple shoulder wounds that you’d inflicted within a matter of seconds.

Satisfied by your behavior, he gently patted your head and closed his eyes, relishing the feeling of your wet and slightly rough tongue.

If it weren’t for your indescribable hunger, you would’ve noticed the red glint in Choso’s usually dark and soulless eyes…

Now, you’re mine…

#deal with the devil collab #jjk scenarios #jjk imagines #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk choso #choso x reader #choso x you #━𝙹𝙹𝙺

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prepare4trouble · 3 years ago

Note

Idk if you ship Heahmund/Ivar but if you do, wanna write something with Hvitserk dealing with the fact that his brother is falling hard for a christian menace?

I don't ship them, but I thought I'd give this a go anyway. Unfortunately, it didn't go according to plan, and I ended up writing and re-writing it for over a week until I ended up with one single scene that... isn’t exactly what I intended to write. Still, I have to post it or I'll keep chipping away at it forever

Sorry if it's not what you were hoping for...

(Prompts are still open, by the way)

Seated on a bench in the hall of King Harold’s home, Hvitserk watched out of the corner of his eye as Ivar made his way slowly across the room. His brother leaned more heavily than usual on his crutch, his steps shorter and slower than they had been earlier in the day, and it was clear that he had spent too long on his feet.

Hvitserk knew why. He had been visiting the prisoner again, the Saxon priest that they had, for reasons known only to Ivar, brought back with them from England.

Ivar reached the table and carefully lowered himself onto the bench next to Hvitserk, but leaving some distance between them. He sat with his back to the table, then turned to meet Hvitserk’s eyes as though daring him to say something. Hvitserk declined the offer, and turned his attention instead to the cup of ale that sat on the table in front of him.

Hvitserk didn’t trust the prisoner. The priest had betrayed him once before, when he had left he and Ubbe bruised and bloodied before sending them back to Ivar as a message that there would be no peace between their peoples. It was a move that had precipitated the rift in their family, and even if he chose to believe that it had been fate, Hvitserk couldn’t help but hold the priest responsible.

Holding onto the table for leverage, Ivar leaned forward, grabbed one leg with his free hand, and hoisted it up onto the bench with his foot pointing toward Hvitserk. He began to unfasten the buckles on the leather straps that held the brace in place. “Problem, Hvitserk?” he asked.

“Uh…” Hvitserk picked up his cup of ale and downed it in a single gulp. “What?”

“You looked as though you had something to say,” Ivar told him. His voice was calm and measured. He looked Hvitserk in the eye as practised fingers continued to work on the straps. “Why don’t you just say it instead of grinding your teeth and glaring at me?”

Hvitserk tapped the back of a fingernail on the side of his empty cup, and considered the request. “Okay,” he said. “I will. He’s dangerous, and you shouldn’t trust him.”

Ivar’s fingers stilled on the final buckle of his brace, and his brows knotted into an exaggerated parody of a frown. A hint of an amused smile played on his lips. “Who are you talking about?”

Hvitserk scowled, not in the mood to play games. “You know exactly who I’m talking about.”

“No…” Ivar shook his head thoughtfully as his frown deepened. “No, I do not believe that I do. After all, I know a great many dangerous people.” He paused, then smiled somewhat pointedly. “I am a dangerous person myself.”

“I was talking about the Christian, Ivar.” Hvitserk told him. “As you well know.”

Ivar gave him a dismissive shake of the head and turned his attention back to his leg. He unfastened the final strap, then winced noticeably as he removed the brace. He placed it on the floor next to the bench, near to where he had rested his crutch, for some slave to collect and return to his room later.

“Heahmund?” he asked.

Hvitserk scowled at the sound of the man’s name. “Are there any other Christians around here?”

“How would I know?” Ivar asked with a dismissive shrug. “Probably not, but we are in a new place. King Harold’s kingdom could be rife with Christians for all I know. Anyway, Heahmund is a sly one. He tried to convert me to his faith. Perhaps he has succeeded with somebody more weak minded than myself.”

“He…” Hvitserk found himself smiling at the idea of the Christian attempting to convert Ivar of all people. “Really?”

“Really. It did not exactly go as he had hoped.”

No, he imagined not. Hvitserk shook his head. “But that’s exactly what I mean. He’s dangerous, and not just because he will try to poison our minds against the gods. He would kill you without a moment’s thought if he believed that his god wanted it.”

“I know,” Ivar told him, apparently unconcerned by the idea.

“But still you carry on visiting him like he’s an old friend, talking to him for hours at a time. It’s almost as though you are infatuated with him. Almost like you’re...” he stopped as a realisation hit him.

“Almost like I…?” Ivar said, waving a hand in the air as he prompted him to continue.

Suddenly Hvitserk understood. He knew what was happening between his brother and the Christian. He shook his head, as though he could shake loose the thought, but it was stuck fast. Ivar really was infatuated by the Christian. Perhaps he even loved him.

“Hvitserk?” Ivar said. He waved a hand before his eyes mockingly.

Hvitserk blinked. He couldn’t say that, not with everything that it might imply. Not yet, not when he had no idea how his brother might react.

“You… like him,” Hvitserk said instead.

Ivar chuckled quietly under his breath, then turned his attention back to his legs. He moved his other leg onto the bench and began the slow task of removing the slightly more complicated brace. As he did, he shook his head. “You’re crazy.”

“Am I? Why else would you have brought him here? And why else would you spend so much time talking with him?”

“I brought you back, didn’t I? Ivar said. He winced in pain again as he released one part of the brace and got to work on the next. “He’s a great warrior, he has insight I can use. I find him interesting, that is all.”

“He’s a Christian priest.”

Ivar shook his head. “A bishop, actually.”

Hvitserk frowned. “And what is the difference?”

“I don’t know, but perhaps I could ask him for you, and then we will know. And that is why he is useful; it is important to know as much as we can about our enemies, wouldn’t you agree, brother?”

Hvitserk rubbed a hand wearily across his face and reached for a jug of ale. “He would happily kill you, given half a chance.”

“I know he would,” Ivar told him, “and that is one of the interesting things about him. But don’t worry, brother. He’ll never get that chance, and even if he did, he wouldn’t take it.”

That was not a promise that Ivar could make. Hvitserk frowned, unconvinced.

“It is true,” Ivar assured him. “I haven’t simply been talking to him, I have been slowly winning him over, convincing him that I’m not the monster he thought I was. I think he’s starting to like me, too. Anyway, he knows that I am the only person keeping him alive. If he did manage to kill me, you would have him put to death immediately, and he doesn’t want to die. If he were so eager to join his god, he would have tried to do so already.

There was an undeniable logic to Ivar’s argument, as usual. Hvitserk forced down a stab of irritation. “One of these days, Ivar, you’re going to make an assumption like that and be wrong.”

Ivar shrugged. “Maybe. But not today.”

“You should still be careful. Take somebody in with you when you see him.”

“Having an armed bodyguard present is no way to build trust. I am hoping that he will fight for us, remember? Do you think he would do that if he thought I was afraid of him?

“You told him you would crucify him if he didn’t. Don’t you think that is incentive enough to fight for us?”

“Perhaps,” Ivar shrugged, “But I would prefer it if he wanted to do it. That way he is less likely to betray me to my enemies. Besides,” he reached to his belt and removed a short but dangerous looking knife, I am not so stupid as to go in there unarmed. After all, as you say, he would happily murder me if his god asked him to, and I am just a helpless cripple.”

Hvitserk reached for the jug of ale and refilled his cup, then poured one for Ivar too, and pushed it across the table toward his brother. “You are anything but helpless, Ivar, and you know that wasn’t what I meant.”

Ivar finished removing the second brace and placed it carefully next to the first, then accepted the drink with a nod. He smiled knowingly. “Oh, but that is exactly what you meant, brother.”

And once again, he was right. In a way, that was what he had meant. Ivar would be terrifying to face across the battlefield, coated in in the blood of his enemies, screaming a battle cry from his chariot, but in close, one-on-one combat, especially if he caught him off-guard, Heahmund would have the advantage. Even Ivar would have to admit that, surely.

“And you are right,” Ivar told him.

Hvitserk blinked in surprise. “What?”

Ivar slipped his knife back into its holster, produced a length of strong cloth from a pocket and tied it around his legs below the knees. “I said, you are right. Heahmund is a great warrior. I have no doubt that he would be able to overpower me if he chose to do so. In fact, I have no doubt he could overpower you too. But yet I am safe with him, as I have already explained to you.”

“It’s not only that he could hurt you,” Hvitserk told him. “You might find him…” he hesitated, “You might find him interesting, but I don’t think he feels the same way.”

Ivar laughed quietly. “Are you worried about me, brother?”

Hvitserk set his lips in a thin line. There were only so many ways that it could end, and there was no room for the possibility of happiness. He decided to change the direction of the argument. “Father had a Christian that he found interesting once,” he said. “Do you remember?”

“Athelstan.” Ivar shook his head. “Not really. I was too young when he died to really remember.”

“Well, I remember,” Hvitserk told him. He had been a child too, but he had been old enough to understand what had happened, and to follow what the adults around him were saying. “I just don’t want the same thing to happen to you as happened to father.”

Ivar rolled his eyes. “Ragnar was dropped into a pit of snakes by a king that we have since killed.” Ivar shook his head, then took a long gulp of his drink. “It is unlikely to happen again.”

He was playing dumb, of course. Or, perhaps he wasn’t, not completely. Ivar had been little more than an infant when Floki had killed the priest; a coddled and protected child who had had very little contact with his father. By the time he would have been old enough to understand, the people had stopped speaking of Ragnar and his pet Christian. There was a chance that Ivar didn’t know how deep their father’s feelings for the other man had been, or that after his death, Ragnar had never been the same.

Hvitserk sighed. “Yes, Ivar.” he said, returning to the question his brother had asked him a moment earlier. “I am worried about you. No matter what happens, Heahmund will eventually turn against you, and when he does, I think that it will break your heart.”

Ivar shook his head. “It would not be the first break I have had to endure.”

Hvitserk shook his head. “It’s not the same thing, Ivar. It’s not the same thing at all.”

“I disagree,” Ivar told him. “You think my heart didn’t break when Father died? Or Mother? When Floki climbed into a boat and disappeared into the open ocean? I know heartbreak, Hvitserk. I know it every bit as well as you do. Perhaps even more.”

Once again, his little brother was right. Hvitserk sighed and nodded. “Of course. I’m sorry, Ivar.”

“Anyway,” Ivar added, dismissing the moment with a wave of his hand. “If Heahmund betrays me, I will simply kill him, or have him killed.

“And you think you could just kill somebody that you love?”

Ivar frowned. “Whoever said anything about love?”

Hvitserk closed his eyes briefly. He hadn’t meant to say that, it had simply slipped out.

“Anyway,” Ivar added. “I am sure that if I could bury an ax in my own brother’s chest, I would have no trouble doing the same to a Christian priest. Whether I 'love' him, or not.”

Uninvited, the image of Sigurd staggering toward Ivar before dropping lifeless to the ground, forced its way into Hvitserk’s mind, and he took another swig of his drink as though he could wash it away. “He’s a bishop,” he reminded him, repeating Ivar’s words back to him.

Ivar smiled, apparently unaffected by the memory of their brother. “So he is.”

“And whatever you feel for him, Ivar, he doesn’t feel the same way about you.” Hvitserk was still thinking of Sigurd; he had already lost one brother, and after everything that had happened, he doubted that he could ever repair things between himself and Ubbe, or Björn either for that matter; they were trying to kill his mother after all. That left Ivar as the only family that he had left. He sighed deeply, trying not to think of everything that he had lost, but suddenly unable to think of anything else. “I don’t want to lose you as well.”

Apparently unmoved by the plea, Ivar finished his drink in a single gulp, put the cup down heavily on the table, pressed his palms into the bench to lift himself, then slid down to the ground. “You won’t,” he said. “I think we are stuck with each other, I am beginning to think the gods want us to stay together.”

With that, using his hands to move across the ground, he made his way to the door far more quickly than he had arrived on his feet.

For a moment, Hvitserk watched him go. “You might not love him yet, Ivar, but you’re halfway there,” he called after him. “Don’t deny it.”

Ivar paused briefly. He turned back to look at his brother with a smirk on his face, then continued on his way. As he reached the door, he turned again. “I deny it,” he said, then quickly pulled himself out of the door and disappeared out of Hvitserk’s sight, leaving behind nothing but his crutch and braces, and the sound of a quiet chuckle floating back into the room.

Hvitserk glared after his brother helplessly, left, as Ivar had no doubt intended, with two equally unappealing options; chasing after him and attempting to finish a conversation that Ivar clearly didn’t want to continue with, or shouting a response after him through the wall, with no idea whether Ivar had heard him.

Instead, Hvitserk finished his drink and poured himself another. For all that he still thought of Ivar as his little brother, he was a grown man, and he was capable of making his own mistakes. Hvitserk just hoped it wouldn’t be as costly a mistake as he feared…

#vikings #vikings fanfic #ivar the boneless #ivar ragnarsson #hvitserk #hvitserk ragnarsson

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alteredphoenix · 3 years ago

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Hey so, sorry you're getting so much negativity regarding the sylvaina post cause I get the impression it was asked in good faith. I do see Anduin mentioned as a potential political marriage candidate in some fics but well, for one you specifically mention sylvaina political marriage AUs so that's always the ship that's gonna end up happening (no idea if Sylvanduin political marriage AUs exist).

But also, Sylvanas is commonly headcanoned as a lesbian, not to mention that she is canonically a sexual assault survivor - The idea of her having to marry a man for political reasons, especially with the explicit purpose of having children could easily be uncomfortable for a lot of people - which I think is why you're getting such a strong response.

Eh, it's alright. I anticipated this reaction yesterday as I typed that post out before RL work called, so it was to be expected. I don't blame the responses made nor hold any ill will toward them, because they made their reasonings clear. Headcanons are headcanons and they don't always have to make sense - but that's what headcanons are, they make sense to that person.

But for me, I like the fiction I read to make sense, and my headcanons and another person's headcanons are inevitably going to conflict. For me to ship something requires a connection to resonate with me, so if I don't feel that chances are good I'm not going to ship a pairing; it's more about that than, say, 'oh I hate this ship' (which I don't, and if it doesn't jive with me I just move on). Hence why I had 'My Personal Opinion' in the title because it reflects how I see things, case in point being some of the trends I've noticed in Sylvaina political marriage AUs (it's also why I didn't list this under my 'meta' tag, because Jaina and Sylvanas won't get an actual canon interaction until 9.2; that's reserved for lore observations as a whole).

So you're right when you say the post specifically addresses Sylvaina, because at the end of the day if a story has that pairing it's going to be the endgame. And that's fair. The main purpose of the post was trying to postulate how a political marriage storyline would be addressed in WoW canon, and the closest thing we have to that so far - kind of - is Genn trying in vain to convince Anduin to settle on somebody and have a child. But that's within the Alliance proper, and currently the peace is tenuous between both factions, so realistically I don't see an Alliance-Horde marital union ever happening. A succession crisis plot is more likely given Anduin's current state.

I think a political marriage in-game would be interesting, however, but IMO it would have to tackle a lot of problems that are present in AU fics a'la 'how would you get Sylvanas and Jaina/Anduin to bond and have kids during the Legion/BfA/SL era where she may or may not do these things that brand her Enemy Number One'. This is where the 'it's magic, I don't have to explain shit' meme and the Canon Divergence would come into play (as I actually didn't consider magical pregnancy as I was writing that post until I saw one of the replies mention it, so that's Critical Research Failure on my part), so the better question would be 'will these stories be for me?', which I'm willing to give another shot at. And if turns out they're not, then that's alright, it's something I'm willing to accept because they can be enjoyed by others.

People can write what they want to write what they want to see as I will write what I want to see; opinions are opinions, after all. It's why I hoped my post didn't come across as saying 'you should do it this way, not that way'; it was one of my fears as I wrote the post, and if it did then I do apologize. Although my opinion that a political marriage AU between Anduin and Sylvanas being more effective still stands, but I can make exceptions if I find a particularly well-written Sylvaina fic that approaches most of what I'm looking for in a political marriage AU that doesn't completely shaft Anduin's subplot out of the picture.

(In regards to Sylvanas being a SA survivor: was that ever canonically confirmed? I've heard of this, but I've never been able to find a source that states it's intended that way. However, it's been years since I've last read Rise of the Lich King, and at that time I never got the impression it was a metaphor for sexual assault. But if it's metaphorical as in 'Sylvanas dies and is raised against her will because she was a thorn in Arthas's side' then yeah, I can kind of see how people look at it that way and might not like the idea of pairing her with, say, Nathanos or Anduin. I personally headcanon her as bisexual in my Heroes of the Storm parody fic, so even if I don't view her undeath origin in that light nor pair her up with anyone in particular in my WoW-centric fics I do at least understand where the discomfort comes from.)

#warcraft #world of warcraft #sylvanas windrunner #jaina proudmoore #anduin wrynn #armi's asks

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kanohivolitakk · 3 years ago

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Have you done Krekka for the ask game? I know you're a huge Nidhiki fan, curious if you have any thoughts on his partner?

I haven't gotten Krekka yet actually. So far I only done Toa Ignika and Axonn for the Bionicle ask game (which Im still accepting). That being said great choice. Krekka isn't necessarily a big favorite of mine (partially because I'm not that fond of the "dumb brute" archetype barring a few exceptions), but I have to admit I do have a soft spot for the big guy. Krekka is a relatively simple character when it comes to characterization/backstory/role in the story (especially when compared to Nidhiki), but that doesn't mean I don't have any "deeper" thoughts regarding him or that there isnt stuff worth discussing.

Anyways some thoughts/headcanons/general musings:

This is a weird thing to start with but... Krekka is kinda adorable for me. I think its kinda this ...overgrown puppy (bulldog??) vibe due to his loyalty and dumbness. I admit BOADH is a big reason for me feeling this way since it gave him a few moments that made me go "AWWW he's so cute". Just..love his loyalty so much.

His undying loyalty makes him stand out for me across the other dark hunters. While many dark hunters we ha e are opportunistic and schemy, Krekka is just...very loyal. Maybe too much so. But I love that he is loyal. Feels refreshing tbh.

And now I cant help but feel that TSO is just "guys stupid but at least he wont double cross me and is easy to keep in check" when it comes to him.

Not to go woobifying villains but I genuinely dont think the guys that bad. Hes just really stupid, overly loyal and doing his job. Its kinda like w Lariska being a decent person despite being a knife happy murder girl although to a much lesser extent since guys a literalminded fool and also just smashy boy.

I do like his backstory of being a former guard who lost his job and started wreck havoc until one day a dark hunter found and hired him. It isnt anything too complex but it works well for his character and explains why he is so loyal to Dark Hunters. It also helps bringing a bit more light to his homeland and I love when we get more info of places through character backstories, makes the world feel more real that way.

Also can Gorast please stop hurting charaxters I like. This is the reason shes my least favorite character in the 2001-2008 storyline that isnt just a glorified extra or a plot device.

When it comes to Krekka, one scene I always think of when I think of him is in BOADH where he temporarily forgot to fly and Nidhiki was just "WAIT A MOMENT LARISKA TOLD ME YOU CAN FLY????" and Krekka just goes "whoops I forgot". That was adorable honestly. You dumb idiot, forgot you could fly.

Also, I know he's kinda "the idiot character", and while I am NOT saying he isn't, I do think its worth pointing out that he's basically literal minded. In BOADH (again) when Nidhiki tried to do that training scenario Krekka basically was like "wait I’m here, there’s nothing there why should I move there". This is

Another thing I really like about Krekka is that how, despite being an absolute idiot and tool, he still is willing to sometimes not take Nidhikis bullshit, see preventing him from getting the Zamor launchers (geez BOADH did a lot for this guys characterization lmao)

I sometimes call him truck boy because his name is one letter off my languages word for truck.

Also unless canon/word of Greg says otherwise I don't think every member of his species is as stupid as him. Like possibly on similar level but still.

It is made pretty clear that Nidhiki couldn't stand Krekka at all, but I do genuinely wonder how Krekka feels about Nidhiki. Based on the little we have I'd say he liked him to some extent or at the very least, didn't hate him to the same degree. I also have to wonder how aware he was about Nidhikis haterd towards him.

I also love the idea that when Nidhiki was mutated, Krekka just...wasnt afraid of him at slightest, no fear in this dumb boy. (I also like the idea he didnt recognize him at first and Nidhiki just, had to explain to his thick skull who he was. It took a while but eventually he got it.)

On a related note, I find it interesting how the LOMN website describes him working with Nidhiki because guy knows where to get the good jobs or something rather than being his goverment (read TSO) assigned partner The way the twos relationship were described makes it feel that by this point the staff hadnt figured out what they wanted to do with Dark Hunters , or if it even was an organization or just these two tools.

Its really interesting for me how Krekkas characterization not only varies between the books/comics (where hes more intimidating and him being a simpleton isnt as pronounced) and the movie (where hes more of a dumbass) but also how his characterization evolved. Like, his loyalty wasn't that pronounced trait but now I feel its just as important part of him as him being a dumbass (which is to say, very interesting)

I remember how the aftoermentoined Metru Nui movie website described that Krekka hated toa to the point wouldve hunted them for free if Nidhiki didnt make sure the two would get paid. I feel this is somewhat early installment weirdness as it isnt mentioned anywhere else but at the same time Krekka being willing to fight without payment sounds 1000% in character if you ask me

Something I have been confused over: when exactly was Krekka recruited to the dark hunters??? The timeline is very vague about this and I wish we knew.

It's been AGES since I watched my home countrys dub of LOMN but what I recall I really liked Krekka's voice in that dub. He sounded more badass and I loved it, the VA had a pretty unique sound. Sadly dont think there is any clips of the LOMN dub, which is a shame. UPDATE: I rewatched the dub and I love the voice itself but felt the voice direction made him sound kinda inconsistent

This is more a "Nidhiki and Krekka related thought" rather than just Krekka related but one thing I really like about Krekka and Nidhiki is that how they are like a more serious and competent take of "those two evil henchmen with contrasting personalities" trope. Often these types of villains are rather goofy, but these two could be rather dangerous as well and I really like that. I also like their dynamic of just doing Nidhiki being done with Krekkas bullshit. One of the main reasons I wish LOMN was a miniseries rather than a movie is because I really wanted more screentime with the two.

On a related note can I JUST SAY I LOVE the way the two compliment/pararell each other. From design (Krekka being bulky mostly blue colored, Nidhiki being slender and monstrous, mostly green colored) to personality (Krekka being foolish and simpleminded but loyal Nidhiki being cunning and ambitious but treacherous) to powersets (Krekka being strong physical attacker, Nidhiki being weaker(??) but faster and more special attacker).Heck, even their backstories have similarities as they both lost their orginal purpose in one way or another and didnt have anywhere to go but Dark Hunters (the main difference being that Nidhiki inflicted his fate upon himself by betraying the toa while Krekka didnt really do anything iirc)

Now for something crossovery, Krekkas and Nidhikis dynamic reminds me a lot of Kronk and Yzma from Emperors New Groove. Yes I have drawn a parody of the "pull the lever kronk" meme, yes I intend to make more screencap redraws. They also remind me a lot of Mummymon and Archenemon from Digimon 02, partially due to the dynamic (smug spider that tries to be cunning and intimidating but gets outclassed by most other villains in that + loyal blue dumb boy) partially due to their ultimate fate being rather similar.

I don't know how familiar you are with the franchise, but Krekka reminds me a fair bit of Gamel, one of the four villain generals in Kamen Rider OOOs, mainly because "the dumb brute major villain that's kinda cuteish and loyal a f while everyone else is an asshole".

I remember reading a p good oneshot fic that was just him accidentally killing a civilian when all he wanted was a hug and...honestly that is p much what I imagine him being like. Guy may be strong, reckless and a fool but like I said I dont think hes all that bad and just a puppy. An overgrown, moronic puppy but a puppy nontheless

For AUs, I remember I have thought once of "What if Krekka survived but Nidhiki died" and just ...guy wouldve been very lost and confused and unsure what to do tbh. He would most likely returned to Dark Hunters but Mata Nui knows how say TSO wouldve felt about that. Its not too complex au yet but I am thinking of developing it further one day.

Thank you for asking.

Sorry this took longer than expected. I had too many thoughts and half of them were deleted so. I hope its worth the wait tho. I do have a lot of Krekka thoughts and tbh wasnt sure if I was even able to get them all here.

(I am still doing the ask game so if anyone wants to send me a bonkle I will try to give thoughts, meta and headcanons on them)

#ask game #bionicle #Krekka

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hauntedzone · 3 years ago

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man fatphobia in tma fandom... i hated how none of the other characters were ever drawn as fat. no one else just the soft uwu squishy bean (how fandom characterized martin actually made me hate him by the 3rd season lol) which is like... i made me So Uncomfortable as a fat person. and the way jon was portrayed as unhealthy skinny got like.. borderline fetishy at times especially in fic and like. its hard for me to blame this on other people and i wouldnt want anyone who wrote him like this to see this ask and feel bad but the constant waxing poetic abt like his thin wrists and exposed ribcage and whatnot was genuinely super upsetting to me and really effected my body image especially because the only fat character they ever thought to write was like... idk how to describe it really but like there was a very clear disparity in the way they were described and meant to be related to by the reader u know?

also straighttma my beloathed... they had this like disgustingly fatphobic post about flesh avatars (cw for extreme fatphobia but if u just search for "straighttma fatphobia" in the search bar it should be the first thing). i understand its a parody blog but some of the posts and that post in particular especially was just legitimately upsetting. especially since it was anon submitted and i have no way of knowing if thats coming from a thin person or not... and in general i dont really find an expicitly bigoted version of a show particularly funny. like ive definitely made and enjoyed jokes about like characters being cishet reddit bros or whatever which i think comes with an implication of bigotry but... idk i just didnt like it

my response gets long so readmore time. i posted under some tags for bl, if youre in one of these tags and see this id prefer no reblogs on this

i never really got into fanfiction in general aside from reading maybe one or two on sparse occasion, so i cant lie and say ive experienced similar to you, but based on the art ive seen during my time liking the podcast, those descs of martin & jon do check out. (aside from that one artist with tall & fat jon, that was cool.) im sorry youve experienced that, i know one of the reasons people participate in fandom is to find belonging and seeing someone portray people like you in an unempathetic way in that setting must have been incredibly hurtful. i think its important for any media creator to understand that when they write diverse body types, sexuality, race... etc, that their intention shouldnt be to score diversity points, but to communicate to readers that arent cishet white thin abled (etc) that your artwork is also for these people

also god i forgot about straighttma... i couldnt find the post you were looking for bc tumblrs search is busted as hell. i think straighttma was kind of funny as like a 1-post idea maybe but as an entire blog idk, especially since the whole show was ALREADY full of shit youd expect from a white british guy. its sort of like, oh heres a way to sort of imagine awful people in a joking context (and i feel like white people are often looking for a reason to make racist jokes anyway), and also simultaneously makes the indirect statement of "arent we so grateful that the show and creators ARENT like that? arent we glad to get good representation?" even though the show and representation sucks ass honestly. its like the opposite of media criticism

i know i keep going back to this point and i absolutely dont intend to direct attention away from what youre saying bc youre 100% correct, but it feels like the fandom would have done everything in their power to kiss jonny sims pasty ass and defend him to the death. and it was incredibly stupid.

#fatphobia #body image

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manjuhitorie · 4 years ago

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Hitorie Interview - Skream! Magazine - Feb. 2021 Issue

First and foremost, I'd like to address REAMP as a whole. I couldn't help but pick up on signs inner turmoil and sorrow over wowaka's unfortunate passing, among a brand new resolve. What's your opinion on this such take?

Shinoda: We voluntarily chose to vent those feelings without any beating around the bush. This band has taken a huge twist in terms of the one who sings, writes, and produces the music, after all. There’s no point in hiding that, we felt. To be completely honest, even after all this time we still haven’t exactly regained our balance at all. Sad is sad. In order to express our choice to push onwards, the cards we had in our hands are.... -Actually the word “cards” was a poor choice. We merely had no other option but to express our feelings outright. ygarshy: We weren’t in the place to put together a theme or concept for the album or anything like that either. We felt baffled and confused by the very fact that we were making songs at all, but nevertheless I felt we had to do it, we just have to. We were wishy-washy so, we decided to hold the times we 4 made songs together close to our hearts, and use that as our foothold: to just try and write as we always do. Shinoda: Squeezing a song out was our one and only objective. Yumao: Yeah. The universe wowaka alone had created and his structures and all that.. To be honest, this new album is cut off from it... We chose to not agonize over trying to recreate it, and to rather let whatever we could just flow out of us.

I have a question about the timeline. After wowaka’s passing, when did you make the concrete decision to keep Hitorie alive?

Shinoda: To be real, we still haven’t even made that decision. Yumao: We haven’t concretely said “Let’s keep this up.” or anything. Our mixed emotions are still churning, or how to say it... When we wrote the music we become immersed and even excited about it but, once our songs were laid out on the table we came back to our senses, like “Uhm? Is this okay?” ygarshy: Even now I’ll have sudden thoughts like “Hm? What am I doing here?”, even when we toured as a trio for the Hitori-Escape Tour 2019, I never thought ‘Let’s keep going on like this’ as well, owing to the circumstances. Just, if we didn’t do it we would’ve lost out minds is all. Shinoda: He speaks the truth alright. ygarshy: If we had to make a thoughtful commitment, I think it would’ve taken us hundreds upon hundreds of years until we finally made a move.

Was there not any type of critical moment during the tour wherein you realized “We can do this?”

Shinoda: Truthfully, during the tour I was so deep into it that I barely even the foggiest memory as to what was going through my brain back then. What I can say for sure is that 2 years ago on June 1st at the Memorial Concert (At Shinkiba Studio Coast), before that day I hadn’t stood on the stage in months. For the past 10 years of my life I haven’t gone that long without the stage. So when I got up for the Memorial Concert, despite it being a tragic event, I felt that when I’m up on stage with this band my mental state is the most stable it ever is. We even all went out for Chinese food after that.

The three of you did?

Shinoda: Yep. We drank our heads off and talked about how “We could totally manage a tour too, eh?” Yumao: Since our HOWLS tour (Hitorie Tour 2019 “Coyote Howling”) was cancelled, we felt we owed something, that we had to do something. We may be sad but, even more important than that was the urgency of the situation.

So there was no resolve or concrete decision to tour and make an album then.

Shinoda: Yep, looking back, I think that’s right.

Were you writing songs while touring?

Shinoda: We started writing around March of 2020? Yumao: Due to COVID-19 we had a lot of free time on our hands, so we took the oppurtunity. Though it wasn’t as if we said “Alright, let’s get going!”, we just all knew it was imminent, and that we had to do it at some point. That point was then.

Which was the first song you wrote?

Among the ones which made the cut, “Marshall A” was the first one consummated at the studio. Though “Utsutsu” was the first one made in my head. Around the end of the tour in 2019 the idea for the phrases took form. I felt that if I was to ever write for Hitorie again, this would be it.

”Utsutsu” stresses sorrow way thicker and heavier than any of the other songs in the album, so it makes sense that it came first.

Shinoda: It gets my feelings across, doesn’t it... The lyric and sung melody of “Utsutsu da ne” were around since the beginning.

Did you each make a song voluntarily?

Yumao: Yessiree. It was like “I’m’ere writing, so you'd better pick it up too." Shinoda: We had the slogan "Let's make 10 songs in one month". Yumao: Even if it was one chorus of a song, that would be okay. Shinoda: In the end, the ratio of songs I, ygarshy and Yumao completed was 8:1:1 (Though in the album itself it became 6:2:2). It might seem unbalanced, but this is perfectly balanced for us. ygarshy: Shinoda just makes a heap ton of songs. Shinoda: From there we picked and chose.

Did you have any standards for which would make the cut? Such as befitting of the current Hitorie or not?

Shinoda: That too was all over the place. Personally when I write, I place importance in how it will pan out with Hitorie as a whole but, I also contemplated what would fit our band's current climate. "Should the guitar not be too distorted?" "Should it not sound too 'rock band-ish'?", my mind was going crazy, I thought it would be best if it was entirely chilled out and mellow. There was a moment when a switch flipped.

It is true that songs such as 'tat' do take that direction, but after listening to the complete album I have to say, the rock band-ish style is in full bloom. There's a lot of distortion too.

Shinoda: Yep, it's distorted. Yumao: And it's rock (giggling). ygarshy: Listening to Shinoda say that just now made me upset.

Why is that?

ygarshy: Because I had purposefully intended for it to be distorted. Everyone: Ahahaha!

So you like distortion (laughing). To push this point further, would it be true to say that those are core aspects of Hitorie's style? Shinoda: Ahh, there’s definitely truth in that.

Yumao: The one most mindful of that had to have been ygarshy. Whatever we release next can’t be too distant from classic Hitorie, he was the one who secured how best to keep the string in tact.

Where was the poster song ’curved edge’ made in the creative process timeline? Shinoda: We upheld the slogan of 10 songs a month for about 2 months, and ‘curved edge’ was the final one. I wanted to make a classic Hitorie style riff-based song, but I didn’t want high-tempos. ‘curved edge’ was where I finally found the perfect balance between my wishes and Hitorie’s standards.

Hitorie never made songs with unwavering low tempos that take off into an uplifting dance breakdown at the chorus up until now after all.

Shinoda: Yeah. We all made the silent agreement to absolutely not try and make songs like wowaka’s.

I can definitely detect wowaka’s influence on your music, which is natural after being in a band together for so long. So, you kept it at.

ygarshy: We’ve each grown a keen sense for this. Suppose we were to show wowaka a song we wrote that mimics his style... He would make a really disgusted face. We just know, we just have a sense for it.

Shinoda: That’s the thing he despises the most after all.

ygarshy: That’s right. It would be but as a parody. And we wouldn’t want to do that.

ygarshy, you wrote the songs ‘Image’ and ‘dirty, correct. The melody of them feel nostalgic and longing, yet simultaneously evoke a rush and shivers.

ygarshy: In my current state letting the music flow out of me is all I’m capable of. Last spring, or summer was it, where we were showing each other our songs I.... Felt sad. So sad. Like “Why am I writing songs for Hitorie? Why is this what it’s come to?”

Yumao: Yep yep.

ygarshy: That’s why “dirty” and “Image” both are not very elaborate pieces. There’s much room to mix up chords or arrange it to be complex but, I just really had no heart to do that. Whatever popped out of my head wasn’t tinkered in the slightest, my wish was to keep in its organic simple form.

So when you handled the arrangement of music as a band, did you change as little as possible?

ygarshy: For the two songs I brought in, they were nice and stayed as close to demo version as they possibly could. “dirty” especially has a garage-style melody and tone which clicks immediately, so the lyrics and singing were molded to follow suit. Shinoda: Him (ygarshy) and I are the same age and all, so I pretty much can grasp whatever he goes for. Like he was probably going for those late 1990’s declining vibes. ygarshy: Exactly. I had thought to myself that I wanted dirty lyrics, and he actually delivered just that. I’d like to hear the story behind the two songs Yumao wrote as well, “YUBIKIRI” and “faceless enemy”. Both melodies are pop.

Yumao: That just kind of happens with me. Shinoda: He makes my contemplating and agonizing look stupid, because those songs are just as clear as fresh water. Yumao: All I did was squeeze out whatever I could (laughing). To be honest, I think my songs will be the most unacceptable to Hitorie’s listeners. I may be a member of Hitorie, and understand Hitorie like the back of my hand but, from the start I knew I’m incapable of writing songs to Hitorie’s standards. I took a realistic approach. ygarshy: Though I really enjoy the music Yumao wrote before Hitorie. So when he brought it those genuine honest pieces, I was so happy. I think I like the songs more than he himself does.

The fact that you chose to keep Yumao’s songs in the album despite them not being perfectly Hitorie fashioned, sounds like proof that you’ve found your answer for this album.

Yumao: Pedaling to the mettle is what I have to do, it’s all I can do. No matter if it’s acceptable or not, I’m doing what I can. That’s one message behind my songs.

Your song “YUBIKIRI” as the final track of the album has a lot of impact as well. It’s a bright and cheery song yet somehow it brings a tear to the eye.

Shinoda: Doesn’t it?

Yumao: It’s very cheery and it’s the brightest of the mix, isn’t it. When I wrote I was riding the groove in over my head, so I asked Shinoda to make the lyrics sound immature, like something a teenager would click with. I felt knotted up inside, and I needed something to break the chains for me. Completely divert from what Hitorie should or shouldn’t do, I alone needed to express and vent myself. And that’s how this song happened.

Shinoda: Yumao made that direct request of me, so I steered my word choices far away from any purple-prose. The keyboard was played by NariHane of Passpied, and when those 3 were off recording the music without me, I finished the lyrics. That’s how quickly they were zipped out.

After completing a whole album, how do you feel, do you think you will be able to continue on like this?

Shinoda: I don’t know yet. We’ll have to hear the people’s opinions. ygarshy: And what are we going to do after hearing them? After performing all these concerts? is one apprehension I have but,.. everything feels so up in the air.

Yumao: I know we haven’t said anything conclusive but! I want people to know we have a mountain of hypotheses on how we could move forward, on how we could keep Hitorie going, on how we could keep wowaka alive but, for now this album was just a do-or-die for us!

Shinoda: We made it, that’s all we needed.

Yumao: Yep. It was an absolute for us. I want to get that point across. This album is our declaration: that “We’ve taken one step forward”!

#Hitorie #interview #ヒトリエ #REAMP

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revasnaslan · 4 years ago

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I'll be honest about Annilis, I love him and his sympathetic background AS well as his awful approach to keeping Hec-tor safe, because he's probably in some legitimate danger but he took it too far. I love HP, but I also wanna beat his ass too. Just grab him by the ears and yell, "What are you doing you idiot sandwich?!" I just wanna ask him "Are you even happy? And no getting pegged by a Shade isn't happiness." Don't want him to die though, only because it's a cop-out for actual punishment.1/2

2/2 That's what kinda bummed me on HP in-show, he did so much horrible shit, was an arrogant living "God", and he was just killed? That easy? HP's hubris was grotesque and he deserved a worse punishment than just a lightshow to the face. HP was also a non character in the end and whatever characterization he did have was lost quickly, gonna admit. But, an arrogant jerk dying that quickly is too easy a punishment, he has to suffer the consequences of his actions and experience his loss in detail.

sorry I'm sending you so many asks about HP. But dear God did the show drop the ball on Horde "supposedly endgame villain who was woefully underutilized until the last minute and even then was handed the villain ball to make sure what credibility he did have was lost" Prime. Could have been great, his story was there, but Crew-ra wasted time on frivolous characters(star siblings might have been cool but s5 needed to work on its existing characters, not introduce new ones)and wasted plot points.

I actually have done a ton of analysis on why prime just doesn’t work as a villain for pretty much six months now. Like I started doing this pretty much the day that the finale dropped cause I never liked S5 at all. There’s just much wrong with it, strictly from a narrative prospective than I cannot get over it, which I why I’ve kind of retreated into doing Fuck Canon aus. And I don’t think the major problems plaguing prime is that he’s a bad person or a cult leader or whatever, that would be fine. This is a matter of set up and pay off. This is a matter of narrative structure. Those are my major problems with everything about this.

Anyway, I guess we’ll try a flaccid attempt at positivity, just to make it clear that I am not coming strictly from a point of view of hate… the one thing I remember liking about prime is that creepy dinner scene. Loved that scene, I was so giddy when they dropped it as a teaser clip, and I got to enjoy it in peace for like a day and a half before my love for the show went crumbling. Prime is absolutely on his game in that scene, I can very clearly see his mind working, because my interpretation of the scene is that he’s trying to bait glimmer into giving him information. Did he actually intend to harm adora? Who knows! Does it matter? Not really, considering he got the information he wanted, which was what was needed to work the heart. I can feel the tension in that scene, that is how he should have been for the rest of the season.

So what the fuck happened? *cracks knuckles* well let’s see shall we.

Foreshadowing It’s Fun Cause It’s A Thing I’ve Heard Of

So I think we all remember just how shocking it was when prime actually showed up, and he wasn’t anything like we’d all come to assume he’d be based on what had been said about him up until that point. What we had been fed was essentially that he was cold, calculating, and didn’t look upon “defects” well. He saw the clones as disposable. And they set up that aspect of his character just fine, and I don’t have a problem with how that was set up.

What they utterly failed to properly set up (and even contradicted themselves on) was the cult thing, and how prime is essentially this messiah figure to the clones. I highly suspect this occurred because they were writing the show as they went along, and hadn’t fully fleshed out prime’s whole deal until he actually appeared at the end of S4, but that’s just my own speculation given some of the things that had been said in interviews regarding other aspects of the writing (namely that micah was apparently not supposed to be alive in the first place and that happened because of a miscommunication between noelle and one of the other writers).

Regardless, there are a number of things that should probably have been done differently in order to properly foreshadow prime’s cult leader status, that actually would have heightened hordak’s characterization as well. For one thing, there’s a reason we all assumed that the galactic horde was merely a military program and it’s because of how hordak acts throughout the first four seasons. We can talk in circles about headcanons until we’re blue in the face (i.e., he might have memory problems), but the fact of the matter is that those are headcanons and that hordak’s entire narrative changes from one of an ableist family to one of a religious trauma seemingly on a dime come the very end of S4 when prime shows up.

imagine how satisfying the foreshadowing would have been if hordak had actually been spouting dogma the entire show (i.e., “cast out the shadows” and “all beings must suffer to become pure”) only for it peter off once he’s befriended entrapta, if he had been calling those who he respected brother/sister instead of force captains (which is a far more militarized word to use, and judging by the galactic horde isn’t even a term they use), if he had still been dressed in his uniform and only actually started dressing differently after entrapta had helped him? Hell, he never even so much as implies that entrapta is leading him astray before he’s back with prime, he doesn’t even seem particularly distressed about being around her most of the time, and the only reason he even gets persnickety with her is because of his medical condition.

One point I’m going to expand on for a moment is the whole “brother” thing, because that is actually a very good way of explaining what I mean. Now, hordak doesn’t actually mention any other clones at all from what I remember. This is contrary to all of the clones in S5 referring to each other as “brother” pretty openly and it being seen as a term of respect. However, the only person that hordak actually calls “brother” up until S5 is prime, and this inadvertently ended up making the word seem far more neutral than it should have been considering the context of S5. The word “brother” is actually a control tool, and if they had wanted to establish that sooner, hordak should have been calling anybody he respected that.

So, either the writers hadn’t actually thought of that part of the narrative yet, or they’re just that bad at foreshadowing.

There are also three instances of the narrative contradicting itself with regards to prime, one in S3, one in S4, and one in S5. The first is that hordak wanted to make a new body for himself. While one could argue that this was meant to be foreshadowing that prime takes new bodies whenever his old one failed (which is fine, that works as foreshadowing), the act of hordak admitting that he was intending to do that is what actually creates the snag. With the context of S5, we learn that becoming a vessel is meant to be a place of honor, but this comes with the caveat that it seems like only prime is allowed to take new bodies. So why the ever living fuck would someone as “pious” and “unworthy” as hordak think that was something he could ever be allowed to do, much less that prime would welcome him back with open arms if he did it. But there’s zero hesitation on hordak’s part, he doesn’t even mention that this is something usually only reserved for prime.

The second is that prime literally looked at the heart of etheria and said it was “unlike anything [he had] ever seen” despite canonically fighting the first ones, so he’d presumably have recognized the energy signature that first one’s tech gives off and be like Oh Shit. This one in particular drives me absolutely nuts because if I was writing a villain who had lived long enough to fight the people this mystical weapon was created by I would never write them saying that what the actual fuck. My gripe here is not that prime is ancient, that’s fine, I could’ve vibed with that. But the fact that he not only fought the first ones but also recognized mara is really egregious in a way that borders on parody for me. Like what a flimsy excuse for him to be connected to adora (and we’ll get to that!)

The third and final one is that hordak was allegedly thrown out for his defects. That’s what we were told, that’s what a major facet of hordak’s trauma is centered around. However, at the same times, prime seems like… oddly fixated on hordak in a way that usually implies something deeper is going on here. That was why I was so convinced that hordak wasn’t remembering something clearly, because why would prime spare him instead of killing him immediately after returning if he was defective enough to warrant being thrown out? Come S5, prime seems to have forgotten about the pesky little plot detail that is hordak’s defects, since they never come up again! Nope! Hordak is not only completely healed of his ailments (which Can I Get A Yikes?) but he’s also been welcomed back to his original position as prime’s right hand by the mid-point of the season, and he stays there until the finale unless the plot demands he be elsewhere to interact with entrapta cause hordak was added in post. You can’t even argue that he was keeping hordak alive because eThErIaN kNoWlEdGe because he has those fucking mind chips. Literally every single person he’s chipped is connected to the hivemind because of that. He’d have every single bit of knowledge that he could possibly want right there at his fingertips. He doesn’t need hordak alive at all.

Which brings us to…

It’s Almost Like He Wasn’t A Villain To The Proper People

The thing about villains is that, in order for them to not feel out of place, in order for their defeat to actually give a true feeling of satisfaction, you kind of have to put them up against the right people. The reason that prime ultimately fails in this respect is that he is not adora and catra’s villain, despite the narrative pushing him as that…

I actually once joked on twitter that if the rise of skywalker had come out when S5 was being written, then prime would have likely ended up being revealed as adora’s long lost grandfather in some attempt to make his fixation on her seem warranted. That’s the level we’re at in terms of how connected the two of them appear to be for the villain and hero thing. They just are not connected, and prime has absolutely no reason to be this fixated on her. They tried to explain it with she ra and prime being old enemies, but that’s equally as confusing because a) mara hadn’t mentioned him up until that point, b) this inclusion actually makes the first ones creating a superweapon look justified since prime is such a huge threat, and c) she ra is explicitly stated to have been on etheria long before the first ones even colonized it, so why the fuck is she just gallivanting around the cosmos fighting cult leaders?

And to be clear, if this whole prime versus she ra had actually been hinted at, I would not be taking so much issue with this. But as there was absolutely zero mention of him, it just comes off as egregious and very, very sloppy on their parts.

Prime also should not be as fixated on catra as he is, that doesn’t make sense at all. I know why this happened in particular, though, and it’s because the writing team was so in love with her that they just had to give her this arc. That just makes its inclusion all the worse to be honest. Why does he go to such great lengths to use catra to torture adora, why does he go into a total breakdown after catra escapes? He isn’t connected to either of them…

… because he is hordak and entrapta’s villain.

that prime didn’t immediately want entrapta dead continues to confuse me to this day, nearly seven months after the fact. Like you mean to tell me that this cult leader, who is presumably used to complete obedience from his followers, finds one of the wayward members of his proverbial flock lost on some backwater, who didn’t want to be found, and he knows exactly who is responsible for sewing those seeds of discord in this poor lamb’s head. And he doesn’t immediately want entrapta dead?

Not only does prime never mention her, despite it being very easy to push a plotline about how it’s necessary because she’s perceived as a danger to the rest, and especially to the poor lost soul who was ultimately returned to him. Instead, prime just doesn’t seem to realize entrapta exists. He doesn’t know who she is despite literally reading hordak’s mind. He doesn’t even seem to interpret her as threat considering he wasn’t worried about putting her and hordak right next to each other in the finale. He should have been using hordak to torture entrapta, and he should have had his break because hordak escaped him. That whole scene where catra is under mind control and adora was trying to snap her out of it was textbook entrapdak. Hordak should have been the one to delve into the hivemind to help adora. It was his story and it was taken from him when he was sacrificed on catra’s narrative arc altar.

And this is ultimately completely fixable. Because they had a villain they could have been using for adora and catra the whole time. Shadow Weaver. Y’know, their mutual abuser who was the main cause of strife between the two of them, and the person who kind of set the plot in motion since she’s the reason catra is the way that she is?

He Blew It. Super Hard. Complete Buffoonery.

Ultimately one of the biggest writing fumbles with prime is that he is just really fucking dumb as the plot demands, and it doesn’t make any kind of narrative sense for him to be that way, it is literally just him being at the mercy of the writers who need him to do something stupid so they can push the plot forward since they made him too overpowered for it to happen any other way.

There’s numerous instances of this across the season, including him bringing entrapta aboard the velvet glove when the very person he would have had very good reason to not let her near is standing right there, and him deciding to give catra pretty much free reign of the velvet glove and seeming to decide to trust her despite him knowing damn well that she’s likely to betray him the second he does something she doesn’t like, and the time he literally left adora to be beaten by catra instead of just killing her outright when she couldn’t even activate she ra. And in all these cases he had the fucking nerve to seem surprised when it happened?

However, there is one plot point that I feel illustrates how goddamn stupid he is to move the plot forward, and it’s the mind chips.

I mean one of the reasons I dislike it is going back to how little foreshadowing the writers actually seem capable of committing to. There is nothing to indicate in the narrative that prime actually employs mind control on anybody besides the clones, and this becomes especially egregious when we later meet the star siblings, and we find out that there are large swathes of the universe that are seemingly not chipped? It just screams like they needed some type of angst plot point for catra, so they had to find a way to make it work.

But the very inclusion of the mind chips as a plot point makes prime look so ridiculously dumb, because we are told those chips connect people to the hivemind, we are explicitly shown this for catra angst. So a) why does he need hordak around at all, because the excuse he needs to know about etheria doesn’t work since he literally chips like half of the etherian population later on anyway, b) if he needed information on the heart of etheria, why didn’t he just chip glimmer outright, it would have saved him a lot of time and hassle, and c) if he knew damn well that catra had betrayed hordak numerous times and was likely to do the same to him, why didn’t he just immediately chip her so he could mitigate two problems. If he had chipped catra immediately, he wouldn’t have lost glimmer, and it would have been next to impossible for adora and bow to storm the velvet glove through the means that they did.

When your main villain is that fucking stupid, the tension is completely sapped out of your narrative, and prime doesn’t have enough character unto himself to continue holding up his own arc. He is a sexy lamp cardboard cutout that just happens to be brought onto the scene when they were in need of someone to throw the idiot ball at. Prime is supposed to be this thousand year old body hopper who has the wisdom of the ages, and yet he was defeat by a group of teenagers driving a clown card held together by nothing but duct tape and prayers.

Anyway!

Guess Who Just Got Murdered!

Anon, I completely agree that the way prime got taken out was just… hm. Well, it was a choice, given how they had written the rest of the season.

I’ve said this before, but I really wish I could actually enjoy hordak yeeting him, but I just don’t feel anything. That scene is a culmination of an arc that never happened because hordak was barely on screen for S5. It feels like we’re missing this whole season-long arc about how hordak managed to break free of prime and was actively working against him, and that scene is the lowest point, right before the greater scope villain is ultimately defeated by the protagonist. Which just furthers my point that prime is really hordak’s villain, because hordak reads more like a protagonist than I think the writers actually intended for him to.

Since you mentioned anillis, I feel the need to comment on him as well, because I do know exactly what happens to him at the end of my au, because I actually planned for his ending from the beginning and built his arc towards that point. The very bare bones spoilers is that he isn’t going to die, because a) he needs to live with the consequences of his actions and b) him dying would affect hec-tor horribly, especially since if anybody had to deal the killing blow it would be hec-tor. And hec-tor doesn’t deserve to be forced to do that. He wants freedom, he doesn’t want his brother dead by his own hand.

So, I completely agree that just killing prime off feels a little… like a cop out? I’m not going to get into a discussion of how he was defeated by the power of (romantic) love because my issue there is not with the trope itself, but ultimately how it was handled, and that also has to do more with my grievances with how catradora was ultimately handled than my grievances with prime. However, him being like… exorcised…

Well it sure does clean up some loose ends that we don’t want to discuss huh?

#rev's rambling again #i ain't putting this in any tags #i really don't want to get into fights with people about this #but anyway here's 3000 words on why prime sucks from a narrative perspective #i've been bottling up these feelings for seven months #i deserve the chance to go feral #as a treat #Anonymous

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acdhw · 5 years ago

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ACD meeting Oscar Wilde

From Teller of Tales: The Life of Arthur Conan Doyle, by Daniel Stashower:

Why, then, should he have wanted to make his detective a drug user? For the modern reader, the image of Sherlock Holmes plunging a needle into his arm comes as an unpleasant shock. To Conan Doyle’s way of thinking, however, the syringe would have been very much of a piece with the violin, the purple dressing gown, and the interest in such abstruse subjects as the motets of Lassus. With Sherlock Holmes, Conan Doyle intended to elevate the science of criminal investigation to an art form. To do so, he needed to cast his detective as an artist rather than a simple policeman. Conan Doyle himself, with his broad shoulders, muscular frame, and ruddy complexion, could easily have passed for a stolid London patrolman. Holmes offered a striking contrast. He was thin, languid, and aesthetic. He easily fit the pattern of a bohemian artist, with all of the accompanying eccentricities and evil habits—one of which, sad to say, was cocaine. “Art in the blood,” as Holmes was to say, “is liable to take the strangest forms.”

The image of the Victorian habitué would have been very fresh in Conan Doyle’s mind as he sat down to write The Sign of the Four. Only a few days earlier, he had met a young man he regarded as the very “champion of aestheticism.” In August of 1889, Conan Doyle found himself invited up to London for a literary soiree. The editor Joseph Marshall Stoddart, of Philadelphia’s Lippincott’s Monthly Magazine, had come to London to arrange for an English edition of his publication. While in Britain, he hoped to commission work from some of the country’s promising young writers. At the time, Conan Doyle’s work was receiving far greater exposure in America than in Britain, owing to the lack of American copyright protection for foreign authors. Several of Conan Doyle’s stories had appeared in pirated anthologies, which, he noted with dismay, “might have been printed on the paper that shopmen use for parcels.”

Conan Doyle may have regretted the lost profits from these unauthorized printings, but they brought him a substantial American readership at a time when his name was less well known in Britain. Now, with Joseph Stoddart anxious for a meeting, Conan Doyle had reason to feel warmly toward his American audience. “Needless to say,” he later wrote, “I gave my patients a rest for a day and eagerly kept the appointment.”

The dinner was held in the West End at the prestigious Langham Hotel, a setting that would feature in three future Sherlock Holmes adventures (SIGN, SCAN, and LADY—my note). Two other guests enjoyed Stoddart’s hospitality that night. The first was Thomas Patrick Gill, a former magazine editor who had gone on to become a member of Parliament. The second was Oscar Wilde.

At thirty-five, Oscar Wilde was already a notorious figure in London society. Though his great plays were still ahead of him, he had made his reputation with his early poetry and with essays such as “The Decay of Lying” and “The Truth of Masks.” From the first, however, his true fame owed less to his literary output than to his celebrated wit and flamboyant personality.

It would be difficult to imagine two men more unlike each other than Oscar Wilde and Conan Doyle, and their first meeting must have produced raised eyebrows on both sides. The hale and hearty provincial doctor, with his bone-crushing handshake and earnest, direct manner of speaking, had traveled up from Portsmouth in his best professional suit. The world-weary, languorous Wilde cut a rather different figure. “He dressed as probably no grown man in the world was ever dressed before,” the actress Lillie Langtry once wrote of him. “His hat was of brown cloth not less than six inches high; his coat was of black velvet; his overcoat was of green cloth, heavily trimmed with fur; his trousers matched his hat; his tie was gaudy and his shirtfront very open, displaying a large expanse of manly chest.” One assumes that such attire was not a familiar sight in Southsea.

The two men also differed in their literary views. Conan Doyle, the champion of historical realism, was a born storyteller, and took pride in his clear, unadorned prose style. Wilde, by contrast, had set himself up as the leader of a movement dedicated to “art for art’s sake.”

Even so, the two writers got along famously. “It was indeed a golden evening for me,” Conan Doyle said of his meeting with Wilde. “His conversation left an indelible impression upon my mind. He towered above us all, and yet had the art of seeming to be interested in all that we could say. He had delicacy of feeling and tact, for the monologue man, however clever, can never be a gentleman at heart.” Only eight years earlier, Conan Doyle had gone up to London to see Gilbert and Sullivan’s Patience, which featured a thinly disguised parody of Wilde in the character of Bunthorne, the “fleshy poet.” Now he found himself sitting beside the “singularly deep young man” himself, while the pair of them basked in the attentions of a renowned American publisher.

Wilde impressed Conan Doyle with his “curious precision of statement,” as when he described how a war of the future might be waged: “A chemist on each side will approach the frontier with a bottle.” Not all of Wilde’s remarks showcased his famous wit. To Conan Doyle’s surprise, Wilde had not only read Micah Clarke but expressed enthusiasm for it. One must treat this report with caution. It is frankly difficult to conjure an image of Oscar Wilde, the archetype of Victorian aestheticism, with a lily in one hand and Conan Doyle’s robust epic in the other. In The Importance of Being Earnest, Lady Bracknell expresses her disdain for the “three-volume novel of more than usually revolting sentimentality” that she has found in a perambulator. One imagines that Micah Clarke would have brought a similar reaction from Wilde, though he may not have wished to say so to the author.

The evening ended with both men agreeing to produce a short novel for Lippincott’s. A few days later, Conan Doyle wrote to Stoddart to propose an idea. “I shall give Sherlock Holmes of A Study in Scarlet something else to unravel,” he declared. “I notice that everyone who has read the book wants to know more of that young man.”

Oscar Wilde also did well out of his association with Lippincott’s. His contribution was The Picture of Dorian Gray, one of the finest novels of the age. Upon publication, however, Wilde’s book came under attack for its perceived immorality. “There is no such thing as a moral or an immoral book,” Wilde declared, by way of defending himself. “Books are well written, or badly written. That is all.” Conan Doyle, who came to regard some of his own stories as a trifle risqué, would not have endorsed this sentiment. Nonetheless, he thought Wilde’s book was excellent and sent a letter saying so. “I am really delighted that you think my treatment subtle and artistically good,” Wilde wrote in reply. “The newspapers seem to me to be written by the prurient for the Philistine.”

——

To summarise, this excerpt supports the points previously discussed elsewhere:

1. The influence of the aesthetic movement and Wilde in particular on the image of Holmes. No wonder Holmes comes off as queer-coded. He is queer intrinsically.

2. Doyle admired Wilde and was vocal about it but chose to be more cautious in his own writing.

Picture credits: londonremembers.com, hauntedjourneys.com

@garkgatiss, @sherlock-overflow-error, @sarahthecoat

#acd #oscar wilde

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the-awful-falafel · 4 years ago

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Rick and Morty - S4E10 “Star Mort Rickturn of the Jerri” Podcast Summary/Breakdown

I said I’d keep doing these breakdowns if people were interested, but I was also waiting for a podcast that gave some good analysis/trivia on the characters and writing process. And what better podcast to summarize than the one about the season finale? I recommend watching it yourself if you have time.

(Link to full podcast video here!)

The interviewed staff this time are Erica Hayes (director), Anne Lane (writer), Brent Noll (lead prop designer), Steve Levy (associate producer)

The way episodes get scheduled/made is that the writers try to break as many stories as possible and see what sticks within the production time they are given. If they have to rewrite an episode a lot it can possibly get pushed to later in the season than they originally intended

This episode wasn’t necessarily always going to be the season finale during the early writing process, although it was always intended to be in the latter half of the season

Star Wars is so big in our culture that there is seemingly an obligation to trope it, which the writers are kind of exasperated about, so that led to the type of referential humor in this episode

Justin Roiland was the one who wanted Rick’s internal organs to be partially cybernetic/synthetic, and it wasn’t initially in the storyboards. It’s also meant to show that Rick’s enhanced and able to take more punishment than a regular human

The placeholder music for the Phoenixperson VS Rick fight was heavy metal, which made it feel almost DBZ-ish, but they toned it down once the actual track had to be composed because they wanted to focus on the brutality of the fight

The writers try to never force characters/plotlines to come back early, and their idea is that characters should only be brought back when it’s the right/optimal time to use them

They’ve been discussing whether or not Beth is a clone in the writers room since early in Season 4

Anne Lane points out how the show—and, in a way, its take on continuity and its own internal canon—seems to be predicated on “nothing matters”, a viewpoint often shared by Rick, but that philosophy is constantly called into question and shown as not true by characters such as Morty, because things do matter to them on a personal and emotional level. Family matters, their experiences matter, humanity matters. If this was the “Rick” show, it would probably be entirely episodic, but a canon exists regardless because no matter how much Rick tries to deny it, he himself is also human and cannot help feeling human emotions.

The invisible garbage truck gag was originally going to be a part of the main episode as a culmination of Morty and Summer’s plotline. It was planned to get teleported onto the Federation ship, driven by Jerry, and brutally crush guards into a gory pulp while they couldn’t even see what was killing them. The gag was cut because it didn’t help the story enough, but everyone was still really attached to the concept, so it got moved to the post-credits scene instead

The original episode title they came up with was “Star Mort: Bethisode 2: Ricktack of the Clones”. They chose a different Star Wars title to riff on since this version was obviously too spoilery

Space Beth’s spaceship was intentionally designed to look like Rick’s spaceship, as he originally built it for her when he sent her off into space and she’s been making upgrades to it ever since

The Gromflomites’ insectoid ship designs weren’t created until season 2 despite the species originating since the pilot

The interviewed staff are absolutely aware of the fans who idolize Rick, and they believe that viewpoint has become less popular in the fandom as the show went on due to the show increasingly highlighting Rick’s flaws and making it clear how terrible he truly is. Pickle Rick and Dr. Wong’s speech was brought up as an example

The writers didn’t actually go into Season 4 planning “this is the season where Rick is taken down a peg”. It was more of an organic result of the writing as they broke the story for all the episodes, as well as coming from an interest in telling stories about Rick that focused on the side of him that he doesn’t want expressed, rather than focusing on the “badass smartest man in the universe” schtick that we’re already familiar with

They were still aiming to be consistent with depicting Rick’s character in Season 4 as someone who, following Beth taking control of the family back in the Season 3 finale, is trying to not “rock the boat” too much while still attempting to find ways to get away with what he did in the past. They were basically looking at Rick as someone struggling to find his place in his family and the universe this season

Despite the huge episode order and having 60 episodes left to go, they don’t really plan ahead or focus their energy further than a season-by-season basis (10 episodes at a time). So they probably don’t have any massive character arcs set in stone this far in advance, they mostly play it by ear

Rick and Morty is an incredibly difficult show to make from an animation standpoint compared to other adult/”edgy” cartoons due to how high-concept and ambitious its environments, characters, and camera shots are. It’s especially stressful because they said that they reached a point recently where they juggled 3 seasons at once, which has never happened in the show before.

They try to cope with the high demands of the animation by reusing background characters and environments whenever possible. They try not to reuse background characters that got dialogue and then got killed off, though, for the sake of continuity. They also try not to use stock aliens that have gotten recycled too much in past episodes.

A lot of the gun assets are reused throughout the show. The weird organic bug-gun Beth used in this episode was a new design, and it apparently gave Brent Noll a lot of difficulty in the prop design phase

A caller asked what Roiland and Harmon were referring to in a past interview which heavily implied there was a Season 4 post-credits scene which would lead into Season 5, and all of the interviewed staff were confused (since no such scene exists and they don’t recall any from development) and came up with different theories about what they might have been talking about. They also point out that most post-credits scenes are written as jokes and that the only real plot-related one was the Tammy and Birdperson one back in Season 3’s premiere episode. They prefer to keep implied future plot elements within the episode itself. “They’re not like Marvel post-credits scenes.”

The Wrangler jeans joke came pretty late in the process and wasn’t an actual paid advertisement. It was given to the Gromflomite ship as its weakness because the Gromflomites are very corporate and they were already parodying the Death Star trope so they wanted it to feel hackneyed

The Zeus fistfight and the Phoenixperson fight weren’t meant to be parallels to each other despite how brutal they were in episodes released back-to-back. Initially the planet-fucking episode was placed earlier in the season so it was mostly a coincidence. Also, the Zeus fight was meant to be more of “a dick measuring contest between two idiots” rather than anything impressive or epic

The reason Beth turned the clone decision back onto Rick is that she realized the choice he gave her was, once again, him stepping back from the responsibility to care about his daughter. So Beth attempted to force Rick to choose for once in his life whether or not he wanted her around, and he failed to commit to even that, which was the cowardly action needed for Beth to move on from her father’s emotional neglect.

Steve Levy dismisses the allegations that only the first and last episodes of the season advanced the plot, as the staff consider character growth to also be part of the canon and something that is advanced throughout this season (using Morty’s character as an example). They also have pointed out that they’ve done canon-heavy episodes in the middle of past seasons before, such as the Ricklantis Mixup in Season 3, and it was only by coincidence that Season 4 had the major lore episodes be the bookends.

They also point out that some episodes that fans consider “filler” can be called back to later, retroactively making them important to the canon, so there’s always an implied level of continuity going on unless they explicitly call out an episode as non-canon (like the story train episode)

The interviewed staff don’t know when Season 5 is coming out, but they do believe it will be sooner than past seasonal gaps

Many of them are currently working on Season 5, and some of them are even working on Season 6

Erica Hayes is currently working on a different show because the board artists/directors are usually first in the process, meaning they wrap up work first and have to find other work in the meantime. She’s wrapped on Season 5 and expects to be back for Season 6 once the scripts are ready

And that’s it! Hope this was comprehensive enough for y’all to enjoy. (And now, I wait for Season 5′s podcasts.)

#rick and morty #star mort rickturn of the jerri #companion podcast #q & a

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gumnut-logic · 5 years ago

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We’ll Be Home For Christmas 4.2

Title: We’ll be home for Christmas

Day Four – Five Billionaires and No Wives – Part 2 Prologue | 1.1 | 1.2 | 2.1 | 2.2 | 2.3 | 3.1 | 3.2 | 3.3 | 3.4 | 3.5 | 4.1

Author: Gumnut

29 Jan – 11 Feb 2020

Fandom: Thunderbirds Are Go 2015/ Thunderbirds TOS

Rating: Teen

Summary: The boys can’t fly home for Christmas, so they have to find another way.

Word count: 2951

Spoilers & warnings: language and so, so much fluff. Science!Gordon. Artist!Virgil, Minor various ships, mostly background.

Timeline: Christmas Season 3, I have also kinda ignored the main storyline of Season 3. The boys needed a break, so I gave them one. Post season 3B, before Season 3C cos we haven’t seen it yet.

Author’s note: For @scattergraph. This is my 2019 TAG Secret Santa fic :D

I’m still writing this, I promise :D I hope you enjoy this bit.

Many thanks to @vegetacide and @scribbles97 for cheering me on and their wonderful support through this craziness. And to @onereyofstarlight for geeking out with me over the setting.

Disclaimer: Mine? You’ve got to be kidding. Money? Don’t have any, don’t bother.

-o-o-o-

Scott was angry.

He strode down the beach looking for his missing brother and fumed. He had finally been able to relax, finally been able to let go and now Virgil pulls a disappearing act.

Sure, Virgil was a grown man and he could look after himself, but Scott would always be his big brother, always look out for him, always worry about him.

Black sand kicked up as his toes hit a small drift and he stumbled. It brought him to a sudden stop and he found himself standing in the middle of an isolated beach fuming at the sand.

Who was he kidding?

And what the hell was he doing?

He dropped his hands to his knees and stood there bent in half, just breathing. The Virgil in the back of his head...because yes, there was one who sat beside both the Mom and the Dad in the back of his head...it was a crowded space...raised an eyebrow.

He was over reacting, wasn’t he?

Scott let out a breath and cursed the sand beneath him before pushing himself upright and continuing his slog down the beach. He would just be happier with Virgil in sight.

The Virgil in his head rolled his eyes.

Yeah, well, it’s my prerogative as your big brother.

The beach curved slightly, which explained why Virgil was likely out of sight, but Scott discovered his brother’s detritus before he found the missing man.

Discarded red flannel shouted amongst the greens and greys surrounding a small steaming spring. Footprints led to it and then away. Scott’s eyes tracked the direct line to the water...

“Virgil, what the hell?!”

His brother was almost waist deep in the surf, each wave battering at him as it rolled in. Apart from the fact the idiot wasn’t supposed to submerge his incisions in the water, what the hell was he doing?! “Virgil?!”

Unable to hear Scott above the surf, his brother continued to stare out to sea. As if to taunt Scott, he took another step deeper.

Scott cursed and shed his shirt and shoes, dumping them beside the red flannel, and ran towards the water.

-o-o-o-

Virgil was frustrated.

He could feel the questions, the song in his body, but he had no way to answer. Without the technology to shift his voice to the right frequencies, he wouldn’t be heard. Without amplification, any vocalisations would be muffled by the water.

He so wanted to answer.

The whales knew he was there. They hovered out of reach, beyond the surf line. He hummed deep in his throat, echoing the thrum vibrating through the water. Without thinking, he stepped closer, wanting no more than to be able to reach out and touch.

A large head peered over a dissipating wave and a huge eye latched onto him for only a second before disappearing beneath the surface.

Another step.

A hand landed on his shoulder and gripped hard.

“Virgil, what are you doing?!”

Scott.

Blink.

The thrum stopped and Virgil wilted. His feet shifted as the next wave hit him and he stumbled. Scott grabbed his arms, holding him up. “Virgil?”

“I’m good.” But it was automatic. He realised he was far too deep, his incisions submerged in the water, his heart was pounding and Scott was staring at him with worried eyes.

Another wave hit side on and soaked the both of them. Virgil spat water.

He didn’t get a chance to turn towards shore before Scott was dragging him in that direction. His brother didn’t say anything further, but the grip on his arm was tight and Virgil knew he was going to pay for this.

Fortunately or not, Mel was standing on the shore waiting for them when they finally stepped out of the waves. Her eyes darted back and forth between them, but she didn’t say anything, simply handing the both of them their shirts and shoes and Virgil his phone as well.

“They followed us.”

“Who?” Mel was frowning up at him. Scott’s hand tightened on his arm.

“The whales. The mother and calf. They’re out there.” He pointed out into the bay.

Mel’s frown deepened. “Are you sure? They should be migrating south. They need the feeding grounds. Maybe they are another mum and calf?”

His lack of knowledge slapped him in the face, but something told him it was them. “It was them.”

The frown didn’t disappear, but her gaze did flick to Scott and back. “Okay. We should tell Sam.”

“First we change your dressings.” It was the Commander who spoke and Virgil found himself automatically straightening in response. Hell, even Mel stood taller, her eyes widening as she looked to his brother.

The surf hissed around Virgil’s feet as an extra large wave dissipated on the sand.

Scott hadn’t let go of his arm.

Internally, Virgil sighed. Great. His brother was pissed and stressed again and it was all his fault. His shoulders dropped. “I’m sorry, Scott.”

Blue darted at him and the thin line of his brother’s mouth tightened for a moment before softening. “C’mon.” And he was being led back towards the other end of the beach.

-o-o-o-

The walk back was nowhere near as relaxing as his initial venture down the beach. Scott let go of him eventually, but his eyes hardly left him. Overreaction much?

He would have shouted that he was fine, that he could take care of himself, for crying out loud, but it was so obvious that he had screwed up royally, that he didn’t bother.

To be honest, he was a little freaked himself. He hadn’t intended on going into the water that deep. It wasn’t like he had almost drowned himself, but he had been caught up in an almost thrall in the whales’ voices.

Scott had a right to be at least a little concerned.

Being Scott, he blew a circuit.

And Virgil wrecked three solid days of his attempt to get the man to wind down.

He spent the walk back mentally kicking himself.

Gordon strode up grinning, but that grin faltered badly when he caught sight of Scott’s expression. Virgil saw the moment the dots connected and his fishy brother’s shoulders dropped. John’s reaction was less obvious, but his frown at Virgil’s soaked appearance was pretty clear.

Sam, somewhat clueless, bounced up all grins and smart comments. Liam was a little more sensitive to the situation and grabbed his husband by the scruff of his neck.

Suffice it to say that the party packed up and climbed back up the hill rather quickly. Scott on Virgil’s heels the entire way.

The damned hill he had to climb didn’t help and by the time they made it to the island’s small infirmary, Virgil was tired and frustrated.

The finger that pointed him to the examination table was firm. Mel had made herself scarce. His brothers had quite willingly fed him to the wolf once they found out why Virgil was being glared at by his older brother.

Of course, nothing was stopping Gordon and Sam from locating those whales now they knew they were there and John was roped into helping with Five. They had all found a decent excuse to run off.

So, the two brothers were left alone in the infirmary with plenty of time to ‘talk’.

Initially, Scott was silent, his actions abrupt and precise as he removed Virgil’s old and now sodden dressings, exposing his stitches to the air. The incisions were actually quite small, thank goodness for keyhole surgery, but they cut through his abdominal wall and messed with his movement.

His brother wiped him down with antibacterial solution. “You better hope you haven’t caught yourself an infection.” The tone was cold.

“I will be fine.”

“How do you know that?” Scott stopped and glared at him. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“I’m fine, Scott.” The problem was he hadn’t been thinking.

The dressings were ripped out of their packaging rather vehemently and Scott’s ministrations, while gentle, were sharp and vibrating with suppressed anger.

“You do know I can do that myself.”

Scott stopped what he was doing. His shoulders dropped and his eyes closed. His sterile and gloved hands hovered in the air as if lacking direction. He didn’t say a thing.

Virgil struggled to push himself into a seated position, levering his feet off the bed, grabbing his brother’s arm. “Scott-“

“Why?” Blue eyes opened and were actually pleading at him. “Of all of them, I trust you the most to not do something stupid.”

“What? So, I got my dressings wet. It’s not a big deal.”

“Virgil-“

“I’m fine. Quit worrying so much.” He grabbed his brother’s arms and squeezed gently. “Take a breath.”

“Virg-“

“Stop. Take a breath.”

Fire ignited in those blue eyes, but Scott stopped.

Air whistled across his teeth.

“Now. I’m sorry I apparently vanished. I was not aware I couldn’t be seen. I’m sorry I got my dressings wet. I was distracted.” Very distracted. Zombified was a more apt description. “But I can look after myself. You don’t have to worry so much.”

“You’re my brother.” It was a simple sentence, but it said so much. “Now lie down so I can make sure your wounds are properly protected.”

Virgil sighed, his own shoulders dropping in parody of his brother’s moments ago. But he didn’t lie down.

Instead he looked up at his brother and drew him into a hug. “I’m okay, Scott. I promise. It was nothing. It was stupid. I’m fine.” Please calm down.

Scott’s arms curled around him, sterile hands still held out awkwardly, but the man said nothing.

“You need to relax.”

“I was relaxed until you up and disappeared.”

“I went for a walk.”

“Into the damned ocean.”

“I was looking at the whales.”

“You didn’t hear me. I called you repeatedly.”

“I was focussed on their song.”

Scott pulled away and stared down at him. “They were singing? I didn’t hear anything.”

“You can’t hear most of it. It is below our hearing range.”

“Then how?”

“I could feel it.” His whole body was the receiver.

Scott eyed him a moment before swallowing and grabbing a new dressing. “Lie down.”

Virgil rolled his eyes and did as he was asked. Scott finished his administrations quickly and quietly.

“I want you to go to bed and rest while we pack to leave.”

“Scott-“

A hand came up. “No. You do stupid things, you give me this.”

Virgil sighed. “Fine.”

His brother helped him up again and off the bed before letting him go.

Virgil left him putting away equipment, making his way out the door and down the steps. Okay, if he was honest, all that walking, more than he had done for days, not to mention that blasted hill down to the beach, had taken a lot out of him.

And the song...

Kind hands helped him the last two steps onto the grass, John still sporting that frown. Great another brother he had to convince yet again he wasn’t dying.

“I’m okay, John.”

Turquoise flashed in the sunlight. John’s voice was quiet, but firm. “We know that. But you have to understand, you scared us. You folded while flying. What would have happened if you had been flying alone? Could you have made it home?”

Virgil froze. The sun was warm, but he felt chilled. “I would have done my best.”

“We know that. But you scared us. You scared Scott. Satisfy our need for reassurance.” An indrawn breath. “Especially Scott.”

A stare was the only reply Virgil could manage at first. Quiet. “Okay.”

John’s smile was small, but fond. His hand landed on Virgil’s shoulder and squeezed gently. “Now, go rest. No doubt what he told you to do.”

A resigned nod.

“I’ll take on ‘the Commander’.” John sighed quietly. “Don’t disappear again.”

“I won’t.”

His shoulder was squeezed once more and let go, John stepped gracefully up the steps and vanished into the infirmary.

Virgil let out a breath.

Well, shit.

Guess he was ‘resting’ for the next hour or so at least. Resigned, he turned and headed off to the hostel.

-o-o-o-

John watched as Scott put away the last of the extra dressings. His brother knew he was there, he had no doubt of that, but neither said a thing.

Eventually Scott finished up, straightened and turned to face John. “What?”

“You’re going to have to back off.”

“Why?”

“You’re hovering like a distressed parent. Virgil is a grown man. Sure, he did something stupid, but this is the brother who throws himself through walls into burning buildings on a regular basis. He had appendicitis. He had surgery. He is recovering.” Eyebrows for emphasis. “You’re overreacting.”

“He was alone on a beach, waist deep in surf and walking deeper. It was like he didn’t know what he was doing!”

John flashed back to the day before when Virgil had sung to the whales. It had been worrisome.

“We will keep an eye on him. But back off.”

“Easy for you to say. You’re not responsible-“

“Bullshit, Scott.” He took a step forward. “I send all of you into danger, everyday! Don’t you lecture me on guilt!”

“I’m in command.”

“You’re on vacation!” He drew in a breath and forced his calm facade into place. What was it with Scott that messed with his control so much?

Family knew how to press all the buttons.

“I am responsi-“

“No, you’re not.”

“John-“

“We are all adults here. Yes, even Allie.” And he said it with sadness. “You need to relax. This isn’t good for you.”

“Yes, everyone says that. ‘Relax, Scott, put your feet up.” He waved a careless hand. “You’re on vacation. It never stops, John. Never! I’m still responsible. It all comes down to me.”

A sigh. “It really doesn’t.”

Scott stared at him.

“We are responsible for ourselves.”

“John-“

“I guess from my perspective, it looks different, but I have to trust my brothers know what they are doing. I can’t reach out a hand to catch them. I have to trust them.” He straightened a little. “You have to trust, Scott.”

“I do trust you.”

“Do you really? Do you think Virgil really would have drowned himself?”

Scott opened his mouth, but frowned instead.

John pushed the point. “Do you really think Virgil has lost his mind enough to voluntarily injure himself?”

“Well, no.”

“When he vanished on the beach, did you think he was in danger?”

“I...well, maybe...” A blink. “Okay, no, not really, I just...am used to being in direct communication with all of you and he wasn’t answering. What am I supposed to think?”

John had to concede that Scott had a point. They were spoilt with the ability to contact each other on whim. Virgil obviously hadn’t thought of that when he removed his shirt and left his phone behind. “You have to trust that Virgil will be okay. That he can handle himself.”

Scott made a disgusted sound and threw himself into a chair, rubbing a hand over his face. “Easier said than done.”

John grabbed another chair and sat down opposite his big brother. “You do it every time we go out on a rescue. You do if for me all the time I’m on Five.”

“Yeah.” But it was a mocking sound.

“You have to let go.”

“I can’t! You’re my brothers!”

Different tactic. “Do you have any idea what you did to all of us those first few years after Dad went missing?”

Scott’s head came up, his eyes wide. “What?”

“You went nuts. Taking horrible risks. Virgil was beside himself. He ended up on Five terrified we were going to lose you as well as Dad. Did you know that?”

Mouth open. “N-no...”

“He said he spoke to you several times. It wasn’t until the aurora generator incident that you finally started to listen.”

Eyes on the floor, but focussed ever so far away. “He didn’t tell me.”

“Yes, he did. But you weren’t listening. Please listen now.” Another indrawn breath. “We don’t want to lose you, either on a mission or to burnout.”

Ever so quiet, Scott’s entire body slumped into the chair. “Okay.” Whispered. “I’ll try.”

“As for the whales...I think we should throw Virgil at Gordon. He knows what he is doing. We can trust Gordon to keep Virgil safe, can’t we?”

Vulnerable azure glanced up at him. “Yeah.” Back down at the floor. “Yeah, we can.”

John shifted where he sat. There was silence for a moment as he reordered his thoughts to work out a way to draw Scott back out again. The last thing they needed was for him to retreat to nurse his wounds and suffer in silence.

Alone.

“So, you going to dish on what’s happening between you and Mel?”

That startled him. Even a small smile appeared on his brother’s face. “What did you want to know?”

John snorted a little. “Without going into detail, spill, big brother.”

That smile, to John’s relief, widened. “She’s remarkable.”

“And not immune to a little Scott Tracy charm, apparently.”

“Hey, I play to my strengths.”

A soft smile. “Then go play some more while the rest of us pack up.”

“Virgil has gone to rest.”

“I know. Now you go rest and talk to Mel. You’re on vacation.”

His brother’s lips thinned, but he stood up and offered John a hand, catching his eyes.

John took his brother’s hand and found himself drawn into a heartfelt hug. His big brother, holding him tight. “Thanks, John.”

“Anytime.” Scott’s shirt was soft under his cheek. “We’re brothers, remember?”

“Yeah, we are.” His brother drew in a breath.

“We are.”

-o-o-o-

End Day Four, Part Two.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #Virgil Tracy #Scott Tracy #John Tracy #kermadec fic

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