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starleska · 1 year ago

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Beach Ken as a mint-condition boxed doll: a heartbreaking Kencanon 💔

Barbie is the kind of movie that’s going to inspire a thousand interpretations, and i wanted to play around with some of the ideas within!! don’t take this too seriously - i do think the Barbies and Kens are more like physical representations of ideas, but it’s still fun to think of them as characters 😉 spoilers for the Barbie movie below!!

so the brilliant @avatarmerida/Allisa came up with this fascinating bit of lore for Ken...that Stereotypical Barbie is not really ‘his’ Barbie, and that Beach Ken really ought to have a Beach Barbie has his counterpart. Allisa posits that Weird Barbie may well be Ken’s original Barbie, prior to her weirdification 👀 check out this behind-the-scenes picture from an apparent deleted scene:

i think this is a marvellous theory that ties up some very interesting things about Ken’s behaviour in comparison to the other Kens, and especially why the other Barbies and Kens seem to be quite comfortable with one another (even if the other Kens also felt rejected enough to follow Beach Ken on his patriarchal bender). we get a lot of Ken’s inner workings and self-loathing in a cover of a song he sings to Barbie, ‘Push’ by Matchbox 20:

'Said, I don't know if I've ever been good enough I'm a little bit rusty, and I think my head is caving in And I don't know if I've ever been really loved By a hand that's touched me, and I feel like something's got to give'

here we can see that Ken’s deep-seated insecurity isn’t a recent development: he isn’t sure that he has ever been good enough. he makes references to never feeling like he’s been loved ‘by a hand that’s touched me’...this supports Allisa’s idea that Ken has never been played with, or was/is neglected in some way compared to the other Barbies and Kens in Barbieland. i wonder if the ‘rustiness’ he’s referring to is actually his capacity for intimacy.

if we run with Allisa’s idea of Weird Barbie being Beach Ken’s Barbie, we have to ask: is Ken intellectually cognizant of ‘his’ Barbie being missing, or does he experience this void in a traumatic kind of way - a deep, sinking, emptiness in his gut? the way Ken’s jealousy manifests makes me lean towards the latter, especially with the way that the Barbies and Kens are largely ignorant of how they relate to the dolls that humans play with. here’s a related thought: isn’t it curious how Weird Barbie, the Barbie who has arguably been played with the most, is the one who knows about the human world? this connection seems consistent: the more Stereotypical Barbie was thought about/’played with’ by Gloria as an adult, the more aware she became of the human world. if we take that bit of canon and work backwards, we have to ask...what would happen to a doll who has been played with the least - or was outright neglected? let’s take a look at some more lyrics from ‘Push’:

‘Said I don't know why you ever would lie to me Cause I'm a little untrusting when I think that truth is gonna hurt you And I don't know why you couldn't just stay with me You couldn't stand to be near me When my face don't seem to wanna shine Cause I'm a little bit dirty, oh, well Don't just stand there, say nice things to me' it’s possible that not only is Ken only vaguely aware of why he’s in so much pain: he could be less aware than another Ken with a missing Barbie would be, because he has been played with the least. although the other Kens are about as insecure and dumb as you’d expect from dolls designed to be accessories, our Ken specifically seems to believe there’s something wrong with him: that Barbie hates him and that it’s down to the way he behaves or just is as a Ken. he moves from describing himself as ‘a little bit dirty’ to begging Barbie to do something, say anything that would make him feel good about himself. everything Ken does from his scary jealous-dancing to his upending of Barbieland shows off how badly he wants to be noticed. Ken isn’t just touch-starved: he’s intimacy-starved.

i don’t think this damage is interchangeable with the other Kens; as of the time of writing, it seems that Ken is unique in Barbieland for not having a Barbie as his counterpart. whether or not the other Barbies and Kens were designed to be together, or were paired together during play, it appears that our Ken is the only one without a Barbie who reciprocates his affections in some manner, or understands they are ‘supposed’ to be together. we see this in his song ‘I’m Just Ken’:

'I have feelings that I can't explain Drivin' me insane All my life been so polite But I'll sleep alone tonight Cause I'm just Ken, anywhere else I'd be a ten Is it my destiny to live and die a life of blond fragility?' those feelings that are driving him insane may not be unique to Beach Ken, but i think either the size of those feelings, or Ken’s capacity for dealing with them, is. the other Kens (notably Simu Liu’s Ken, or ‘Ken 2′) seem relatively well-adjusted (for Kens) until Ken returns with knowledge of the patriarchy. perhaps it’s because we are supposed to focus on Beach Ken’s emotions, but it does seem like our Ken has a disproportionate amount of self-loathing, anxiety, arrogance, and a desire to be loved. why is he like this compared to the other Kens? well, i think that our Ken has the wrong end of the stick. he believes that there is something wrong with him - that he is dirty, defective, or broken in some way - but it’s actually the exact opposite. i think that while his counterpart Barbie - Weird Barbie - was played with and loved a great deal, that our Ken was kept in the box, and has never been played with once.

what would happen to a doll in Barbieland whose self-esteem and understanding of relationships hinges on the way, or how much, they’re played with? when i say i think Ken is a boxed doll, i don’t mean a collector’s item; i’m inclined to believe if he was, he would be able to feel that love the way Barbie could feel how she was played with. i think it’s more likely he’s still boxed, and was forgotten about and never opened. doesn’t it make sense that Ken has so much rage and self-hatred whilst looking physically ‘perfect’, whilst Weird Barbie is more than content despite her body being so physically altered? there’s nothing to suggest that a boxed doll couldn’t exist in Barbieland, but i wonder what that would do to a doll’s psyche...we’re having a real Toy Story moment 😭 hell, we could take this a step further! the emotionally volatile, restrictive, stunted aspects of Ken’s personality could be down to his never having been played with. this could be why our Ken is so insistent that he isn’t allowed to be on a certain part of the beach. this could be why he considers himself ‘fragile’. this could be why Beach Ken wears his emotions on his sleeve and looks visibly more upset than any of the other Kens. self-actualisation was achieved for both Stereotypical Barbie and Weird Barbie because they were thought about, played with, acknowledged...and above all else, Ken craves acknowledgement from Barbie. he ‘only has a good day if Barbie looks at him’. when Ken tells Barbie, ‘I only exist within the warmth of your gaze’...he means it 💔

that’s the idea!! i hope i’m making sense with my ramblings 🙈 fanfic authors, fanartists and theory-makers, feel free to go nuts with this silly little notion...as much as i adore how terrible and arrogant and sexy Patriarchy!Ken is, i would love to see some stuff exploring this angst and him finally getting all the love and attention he deserves 😖💖

#barbie movie spoilers #ken #gosling!ken #beach ken #barbie #barbie movie #starleskatalks #long post

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loosesodamarble · 10 months ago

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Hello soda, I love your blog. I'm a huge Nacht fan and I want to write a Nacht x reader/oc (haven't decided) fanfic . I'm too shy to post it but I want to write it for myself. Can you give me tips to write fanfic especially about Nacht.

🖤 Anon! The answers you seek are finally here!

It's very exciting that you're writing some self-indulgence! It's one thing to make requests for what you want to see but taking the writing into your own hands is something else entirely! Make the most of it!

(This post ended up being longer than expected so pardon for the rest of it being under a cut.)

First off, reader insert or oc, or heck you could even do a full self insert. Any way you go about it, do what gives you the most fulfillment! You said that you aren't gonna post it but even if you did, your first and most important audience is yourself, so cater to what you want.

Second, when it generally comes to writing fanfic, play to your preferences. Do you enjoy banter or heartfelt dialogue? Then you can easily write scenes that focus more on characters speaking with little sprinkles of scenery and action written in. Or if you prefer prose and detailing the finer details of a moment, feel free to write a fic where you go five paragraphs without character speaking.

(For me, I like fic that's a little introspective. Where prose isn't just about the characters' actions or surroundings but also acts as their inner monologue. And thus, I tend to write fic that's a lot of "their feelings swirled inside of them like a storm" stuff.)

And don't worry about skipping over stuff that you don't feel confident or interested in writing. For me, I can manage a bit of fight scene choreography but it's not my strong suit so I don't write fights often and I usually keep it vague and short. The less interest you have for writing a certain thing, the less you end up writing. (That's not the whole picture since burnout/writer's block can leave you wanting to write but not having the energy or mind to do it.)

Something that I try to keep in mind when writing is the question of "what is the ultimate point of the piece?" It can be anything from a simple "I want these characters to talk/fight/kiss" to a complex "I want to show how a single event is actually a chain reaction of smaller happenings and how they can have massively different effects on people's lives and personalities." For me, the answer should be less a plot summary of the piece you're writing and more your motivation for writing it.

TL;DR for those previous points: write what you like, don't write what you don't like, and know why you're writing (since that can help you stay motivated).

Now when it comes to writing Nacht specifically, I keep these character details in mind:

Nacht has self-loathing issues, making it hard for him to believe he is good.

That self-loathing is projected onto others, mostly Yami.

While he does care for others, Nacht is afraid of loving and being loved. He fears hurting those he loves (see Morgen's death).

Those are probably the most important traits of Nacht's to keep in mind when writing him, pre or post Morgen's death. Although the projection aspect of his personality more shows up afterwards.

I also tend to write Nacht repeating the same mini arc. -He looks down on himself -He resists happiness when he has a chance for it -Someone talks some sense into him -Nacht lets himself be happy

Yes, it's keeping his character kinda in the same arc over and over. But to me, Nacht is a character that I see struggling to accept that he's allowed to be happy despite his dark past. He lets himself be happy but he doesn't want to risk too much good fortune in case it blows up in his face, if you know what I mean.

I think that writing Nacht is about finding the balance between suffering and salvation. He hated and punished himself for the longest time until he finally learned to let go of his guilt. Although I personally like to keep Nacht from fully letting go of the guilt and grief. Because squeezing out angst from Nacht's character is fun. Giving Nacht love and letting him be happy is ultimately more fulfilling though.

Really, like for any character, you have to write what you want for Nacht. And for me it's that ever present sorrow in his life. For you, it could be something else entirely.

You gotta write for you, 🖤 Anon. But hopefully my advice gives you something to work with. Good luck with the Nacht fic and I hope you enjoy what you come up with~!

#questions from the ask box #soda asides #🖤 anon #initially i was going to start the post with a joke of like #i dont write i just black out and a few days later i wake up to a fully written fic #but eh seemed inappropriate #so you get the watered down version of the joke here in the tags #i really hope that what i wrote actually makes sense and helps #there's no real concrete writing advice #like when it comes to grammar or story structure #but that's not what was being asked for anyway

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icypantherwrites · 4 months ago

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Hi Icy! I have a question, and I’m sorry if somebody already asked you before, but what does your writing process typically look like? I’m just in awe in how you can write so much! Do you plan plot points out beforehand? The angst? The dialogue? Or do you freeball it all? It’s crazy how you have so many works! Thanks!

Hi there, so sorry for the delay in responding to this. Life's been a little crazy and I wanted to write a thorough response to your question :)

My writing style is the "pantser" style which is short for "flying by the seat of your pants" aka the writer who uses no outline in any way, shape or form. I literally sit down at my computer, put hands on keyboard, and write and see where it goes, hence why I tend to wind up with lots of tangents to my stories (but I think tangents are organic to life and so long as they all get wrapped up I don't mind meandering down them). That said, that way of writing is definitely not very helpful when trying to provide writing advice ^^; Although also said, I personally loathe outlines as I find them very constricting and also a waste of time, but I've hated outlines since I was a kid and told to write an outline for my essay and it's like, but I'd rather just spend the time writing the essay why do I need to do this too? xD That's also a nod to my awful, awful handwriting and computers not being a thing way back when so having to spend the time writing the outline to do it all again just made me die inside each time ;p

But let me try to provide a little writing advice as even without an outline there are some things I use as sort of guidelines. I preface though that what works for me might not work for you and that's completely okay: every writer has their own system and all are correct 🧡

I will say I typically go into a story -- whether it's a prompt, a commission or a vague idea I had that I want to explore -- knowing if I want a happy, tragic or open-ended ending and I tend to let that guide me to ultimately where the story will end. I do think it's important, even if you don't quite know the how, why or any details to it, what the feeling of the final product should be as that sets the tone for how you write and what decisions you make along the way.

This is more of a fanfiction specific writing advice, but I also identify quickly which characters will work best and, if given a prompt or commission of pre-selected characters, which season/timeframe would then be the best to set the story in for maximum impact, because that can have a huge change on a story. For example, going off of just a prompt of angst/whump Lance and Keith prompt the story and its characters change a great deal between seasons where season one we have rivals and not a lot of common ground and bigger feelings of jealousy and inadequacy from Lance, season two where they're starting to form a tentative friendship AND depending even in there you have Keith's Galra heritage coming into play, season three beginning where Shiro is missing and Keith is thrust into this role as leader and Lance is his literal right hand and later season three where Shiro is back and Keith is trying to figure out his place while Lance is caught between supporting his friend and his hero, and that's just the first three seasons and very broad takes at that. Based on whatever story you're trying to tell there's always going to be that "sweet spot" of timeline where your story will have the most oomph.

The other thing I'd like to note is no matter what plot I ultimately meander down my main focus is never actually the plot. Plot to me is the background device moving the story but my focus is and always will be the characters and their emotions. Emotions tell a story. People tell stories. Not plots. So I treat all of the characters as people first and foremost and get to to the core of their characters: their motivations, their fears, their relationships, their beliefs, etc. And knowing your characters also helps you figure out both the trajectory to take a story and oftentimes also your narrator(s). Every character has their own voice and just like timeline, some fit in certain stories better than others based on what story you want to tell. I also keep that in mind back during my commission/prompt days as every different perspective you add to me adds at least another third word-character count to a story as no matter what you will in some way end up re-telling bits and bobs of the previous perspective and then you layer that character's feelings and reactions to it and it just balloons and balloons.

It's honestly how both Bottled Ocean reached 250k+ plus words with three narrators all being given mostly equal screen time (it's probably a 40/30/30 split of Lance, Shiro, Keith) and As Color Fades Away reached 435k+ words with 11 various narrators (I think there could be one more but for sure 9 main narrators) and that story even had the benefit of me switching perspectives every paragraph or so (which is a writing style I ultimately moved away from) so there was no major recapping.

So while I write with no outline, those three things -- ending, characters and word count -- definitely help guide me in storytelling. They're not always foolproof (cough, Bottled Ocean was supposed to be max 100k and it does suck as there's legit just 2 people reading it so all those extra words and tears and sweat and blood and no one even sees them, but it was the last fanfiction I ever wrote so it's okay with me that it went off the rails and then some) but they can at least help provide a guide even without an outline.

Hope that answers your questions!

#icyanswers #writing #icypantherwrites #fanfiction #writing advice

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lilyvines · 2 years ago

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Got any headcanons about Dipper and Mabel? (if there's no new content we'll make our own >:3)

yess!!

dippers bad with technology, like modern phones and laptops and stuff. he’s not like “tech hates me” because he doesn’t know how to use it, he knows how to use it fine, it just legitimately hates him. he writes an entire essay and his computer decides to spontaneously crash. he keeps paper versions of most things because of it

mabel bullet journals!! dipper does too, kinda, but his is more of a clean and orderly planner, hers is glittery and covered in color and stickers. at first glance it looks like the least functional planner in the world but she makes it work really well somehow

mabel never does her homework unless she finds it interesting. dipper LOATHES busy work, like more than the average person.

once they get back home they probably both sign up for some basic fighting lessons under the assumption that it’ll help them in their supernatural happenings, but it doesn’t really, because the stuff they learn isn’t super helpful in fighting gremloblins

mabel keeps every card she’s ever received in a neat little pile in a drawer!!

dipper probably does some more chill exploring on school breaks and stuff, like he’ll go looking for supernatural stuff that he can solve (and Mabel usually comes along) in order to find these supernatural happenings he’s subscribed to like 400 small town newspapers. his parents don’t approve of this so he pays extra for a guy to covertly deliver them to him during school (some of the other kids in his class TOTALLY think he’s buying drugs)

as dipper gets older & learns more about science he prob takes a more science-y approach to his research. however whenever he hits a road block he brings whatever rock or shiny object he’s looking at to Mabel and goes “ok. what’s the weirdest thing I could try to do with this”. this method is how he’s solved like at least 6 major mysteries

mabel gets SUPER into the supernatural for a little while because she wants to find something that will let her talk to animals, she ends up buying some magic potion from a fairy and drinks it (much to dippers distress) and eventually concludes she got scammed. despite this, sometimes she swears squirrels are attuned to her desires

this one doesn’t really count but they both have nicknames for Pacifica! dipper calls her paz and Mabel calls her pax. at one point i imagine some kind of shapeshifter thing where Pacifica immediately knows something is up bc the shapeshifter used the wrong nickname

also bonus bc it’s not abt dipper and Mabel: stan doesn’t really remember things as clearly from the years where he was on his own, he has vague memories and ideas, but nothing specific, so whenever he gets asked about anything he was up to during those years, he just makes up some absolutely absurd lie. he thinks it’s always obvious he’s lying, but it’s gravity falls, so there’s multiple people who believe he killed jfk

the stan o’ war looks like a pretty basic boat, but since supernatural adventures take them many places and ford gets bored sometimes, stan allowed him to make modifications, so it can now fly, go on water, and go on land. when they go to see the twins, Mabel and dippers parents are like “how did u get here??” and they’re like “uhhh we drove our boat down the highway. don’t worry about it”

#obviously they all reunite in Oregon every summer and some times during the year #asks #jesterjazz #sorry these aren’t very funny but yeah

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lucy-the-cat · 11 days ago

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Do you think maven has any weird kinks? What about Mare? Sorry if this is weird to ask

Beware ye who enter here. I have given this too much thought . . .

(Minors DNI on this post)

(Also this is only the weird-ish ones, so excluding the base "Maven is a soft dom switch who doesn't like sadism and Mare is a hard dom/sadist who likes masochism but not submission")

Maven

Breeding Kink - I mentioned this in his NSFW alphabet but I think he's really into the vague idea of getting Mare pregnant as like this means of "ownership"/control without necessarily liking the idea of actual children, which he hates (Mare's 100% not into this and when she is it's purely a romance and not a sex thing)

Blood Play (as in the physical substance not a fetish for the blood divide) - I think the danger and intensity of having actual blood in the situation is like, 10/10 to him. Gonna lump knife play in here too (I think a gun is too dangerous for him, self-preservation kicks in instead of arousal. He needs to listen to my favorite Lady Gaga quote smh)

Breath Play (Choking in Specific) - do I even need to explain this

Orgasm Control - Fits very well into mind games, I also think he just loves teasing and being teased respectively

Objectification - I think he likes to just . . . forget he has a body and a mind sometimes. Also I think he eroticizes his own self-loathing and this is an extension of that

Humiliation - especially Mare's, just this kinda private erosion of her self that convinces him he's won something. And also his, because eroticized self-loathing is like half his sexuality

Pegging - the vision. THE VISION.

I will go on the record to say that he does not have a mommy kink (I could see him having a daddy kink tho . . . no I will not elaborate)

also I think he's really into her collarbone

I'm going to hell

see ya

Mare

Overstimulation - I tried to write a clever description for this but Im not horny enough use your imagination

Breath Play (Choking in Specific) - She doesn't like it as much as Maven does, but hey, who doesn't want to put their hands around his throat every now and then

Cuckolding - Maven's so not into this it's not funny

Orgasm Control - she loves teasing what can I say

Electric Play - Maven's not screamingly into this in particular but she really does love sending little sparks into his foot or lips or dick

Spitting - this one really turns me off so you'll never see it, but it's in character

#red queen #maven calore #maven #red queen series #mare barrow #mare #mareven #mare x maven #maven x mare

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starlightrosari · 1 year ago

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Reassessing transition: Do I want to go on Testosterone?

I’ve been thinking on this a lot and feel kind of strange about it because while I do have dysphoria, I don’t have an overwhelming sense of dread for my appearance. However, I am a nonbinary boy who wishes to look androgynous in a way akin to androgynous men (think vampires and elves, or for more human examples, androgynous male models or celebs and emo boys). I often feel limited in how I’m able to look because I can’t be androgynous in the way I wish for being a petite AFAB person and it holds me back a lot on feeling comfortable embracing my masculinity because I feel like no matter what I do, I look to some extent like a girl.

Section 1: Dysphoria as a feeling

I would describe my dysphoria as more being saddened at times by the way I look being overly feminine to a female appearing degree when I want to be androgynous masc leaning in appearance. I get upset when I’m dressed very typically masculine and still don’t look how I want, knowing it’s because I’m limited in how to achieve that because of my petite body and young feminine appearance. I get jealous of people who can be both masculine and feminine and not look like women, and as much as I tell myself “clothes don’t have a gender” or “androgyny shouldn’t be based on AGAB,” I still can’t shake the dissatisfaction of how I look compared to others. Sometimes it can mean almost crying staring at myself or being in a space where I’m aware of others perceiving me and look around being surrounded by androgynous male leaning appearing people who I wish I looked more like. Other times I get dressed fem anyways and then feel really uncomfortable about my body being so apparent and feminine and don’t want that attention on me, feeling like I look even smaller than I already am and that my curves are overly visible in a way that’s too female appearing that it’s not androgynous anymore, so I change into something else or just bare with the minor annoyance of dysphoria because I don’t want to sacrifice style for comfort when I probably don’t pass no matter what anyways. It’s upsetting if I think too hard on it but I’m sort of numb to how prevalent this feeling is because I’ve always had it and dealt with it by just looking cool enough that it didn’t matter that much as the alternative of hyper-fixating on how I should look sometimes makes it worse. That was how I coped with it growing up with a poor view of myself that I could never look right as a girl or as a boy. Because of this, when I acknowledge how I actually want to look or the parts of my body that bother me, although it’s obviously dysphoria, it doesn’t make me feel much of anything, just minor annoyance, discomfort, sadness, and a feeling of wishing I could look the way I always wished to be.

Section 2: My dysphoria

So I’ve explained how my dysphoria feels and vaguely what it is, but how about specifics? What feels wrong? Well, for starters, I have always loathed my tiny skinny arms hands and shoulders, wishing desperately that they could be bigger, partially because it’s an inconvenience stylistically (for example, I have really skinny fingers and wrists that make jewelry shopping difficult), but also because I just don’t want to be so small and feel dysphoric seeing my tiny arms. My height is another thing that I absolutely hated growing up, being triggered by how behind I was from everyone else and how overall young I look being petite and only 5’ tall, also worrying this is a big deterrent from me ever appearing masculine (so much so I repressed that I felt trans for most my life even though I’d have thoughts along the lines of being trans through most of it). I worked on this a bit in Highschool when I realized it would never change, and that even if I were a girl I’d still be bothered by this because it’s annoying for anyone, but it’s still difficult at times. Another thing is my feet. I hate how my feet look and how skinny and small they are, same with my toes. I try to keep socks on and not wear sandals to help this, and when I was young I always got uncomfortable comments about how tiny my feet were and would purposefully sit in a way that would hide them even though it was uncomfortable. It’s also annoying because my tiny feet and ankles and calfs make it hard to buy cool shoes. And I have huge thighs that sometimes bother me, and then below the knee is skinny when I wish at least that my legs were pencil shaped. My small waist is something I feel mixed emotions about. On one hand it’s kind of cool to have a unique feature on my body, and it can be hidden underneath shirts anyways, but then it also makes me really uncomfortable having it exposed. I feel similar about my hips. It’s cool my hips even out my body features a little but I don’t want them super visible, though I’m grateful to have them at the small size I do because they’re not so noticeable but they also make my big thighs appear slightly slimmer. My torso in general is really thin when I want it to be more square shaped. My voice sometimes bothers me too, more than I think even realize. Like, I don’t like hearing my voice back in recordings, and I don’t like repeating sentences because it makes me aware of how I sound. I feel annoyed that hard of hearing people can’t hear feminine voices as well as masculine ones because I hate shouting and hearing the sound of my voice so loudly, and I also internally think of my voice as androgynous so it’s frustrating realizing it’s not. I also hate when I subconsciously raise the pitch of my voice to seem more approachable to other people because it’s not how I want to sound. I also have mixed feelings about my face because I like the shape of it and my bone structure and big nose, but I wish it didn’t have such feminine fat and stretch to the skin, and I wish my jaw were more prominent and in general that my features were less round and more angular. And then there’s an area of my body I try to not ever think about that I hate, I have bottom dysphoria. I hate the function of that area, and how it genders me as belonging to women’s space. It always felt icky to me and I feel major dysphoria if being asked by a doctor about my fertility/sex life or about my period. I have an irregular period but when I get cramps and bloated and bleed, I feel so miserable and too embarrassed to tell anyone, and I hate thinking about how people in the house probably can see someone is on their cycle and know it’s me. My chest normally doesn’t bother me that much because I’m small but I wish I could have a flat chest and sometimes feel like my chest is just another obvious indicator of my assigned sex at birth that I don’t want to be referred by or seen as.

Section 3: Transition goals

Transition is complicated because I want to look like an androgynous boy, but not male. I want the effects of a deep voice, but still in the androgynous range. I want to get taller, which I doubt would happen but I’d be really happy if it did. I would be a lot happier with my skinny small body if it were more angular and masculine, with a wider torso and broader shoulders. I want my feet and hands to get bigger. I want my face to mature in a more masculine way. I want an atoms apple. I want bottom growth. I want my periods to stop, and to be infertile. I want fat redistribution to move fat away from my thighs, chest, and butt and distribute it in a more muscular male appearance. I want the curvature of a masculine frame that’s more stoic and angular, and to not be so overwhelmingly circle, pear, and curve shaped like women are. I want to wear makeup and pretty clothes and feel like I look like a pretty boy in it, not having to feel dysphoric for a way of expressing my style that I enjoy. I want to be non-normative in my appearance, feminine and glam or soft and masculine, but underneath all the styling have a boy base for my body that I much rather have than the feminine base that makes me uncomfortable in feminine clothing because I want to look like I boy in it.

Section 4: Doubts

I’ve explored what I want and how I feel dysphoric, even linking back to feelings that have been with me since childhood, and I understand how I feel limited in these goals without transitioning, but there’s still some things I haven’t quite figured out if I’d be okay with about transition. Since I want to be androgynous and T is geared towards masculinizing people to a male appearance, I worry some of the effects may not come across as androgynous as I hope for. I am very small and petite, and my features reflect that through the delicateness of my skin and bones and lack of muscle, and my hope is that T would masculinize this in an androgynous way that I’d be really happy with, where I look between male and female, masculine yet androgynous. I’ve felt this way since before I even fully came out to myself as trans or even was questioning my gender fully, and often envied how T effected people who were petite like me pre T. So I’m not nervous about the body and face changes, in fact I feel like those are what I want most out of T and am confident I’ve been really bothered by these things without it my whole life, wishing to be more androgynous. And I know I want the bottom growth because that was the first obvious dysphoria I had since I was a kid, and however strange it might be I feel like it will feel more right, as I always wished I had something different than I’ve been given. Any amount of doubt I sometimes have about this is more societally based, like concerns over if pants will be harder to find or if people will find my body strange or if I’ll still feel uncomfortable with my naked body. I also worry about if the hair increases will look strange on me, or if I’ll feel weird growing facial hair because “fems aren’t supposed to have hair.” I feel like on my own, I don’t think it’s weird to be hairy and have facial hair, even with me being small and androgynous, but the idea of other people seeing it makes me nervous. The voice change makes me nervous too because I don’t want my voice to get too deep and I love singing and don’t want to lose the ability to sing. I also feel like I’m supposed to want everything and feel terrible in my body because that’s what I see so many people say but I don’t want every effect and feel invalid for that. I feel like I’m supposed to know 100% that I’ll love every change of transition, and I don’t think I can know that to be honest. Though my body gives me dysphoria, the idea of changing it however fascinating it may be also is scary to me, and it’s a big decision that I’d like to feel more strong feelings about before deciding on it, as well as more good about the secondary sex characteristic changes I’ll get. I think it’s okay to not want so much of the hair changes, I can just be a guy who shaves, and I don’t mind so much being hairy on my body even if I would prefer not to be, it doesn’t feel like I’d feel wrong about having that change, it’s mostly just I don’t know how I’d feel with the facial hair, and I don’t want to feel ugly or not like myself. I think there’s just a lot of work I need to do to understand myself better, because I know I’ve felt immense jealousy over guys deep voices, flat chests, facial hair, and hell, even body hair sometimes, yet these are all the aspects of transition I’m least sure about.

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troquantary · 3 years ago

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Twilight Reread, Part Two: It’s Still Just Chapter One and I Think Bella Has a Persecution Complex, Among Other Problems

I’ve had this half-written in my drafts for weeks and keep getting lost trying to cram all my observations into a cohesive form, so obviously the solution is to just put things in numbered, vaguely-themed chunks and hope that it fools people.

1. Props to Meyer: Bella Is Not a Vessel

People talk a lot about wanting “flawed” protagonists in stories, especially flawed women, but I don’t believe them -- if that were true, Bella Swan would be Exhibit A. It seems to me that when people say they want to read about a flawed woman, they mean “flawed in this highly specific way I approve of” -- e.g., a wronged and angry woman bent on revenge, or a woman whose flaw is that she isn’t feminine and like...says “fuck” or something. They want to see attitude, biting wit, and ideally for the heroine to kick at least one (1) ass. Bella Swan doesn’t really fit the bill; she’s very feminine, surly but not in the way that comes out as snappy sarcasm, and she doesn’t kick a single ass even when she becomes a vampire. She’s extraordinarily flawed, but not in a way that’s satisfying to vicariously experience. So she’s dismissed as boring, or worse, a void for the reader to inhabit so they can experience romance with perfect, sparkly Edward Cullen. I consider this is a fundamental misreading; I think Meyer did a fantastic job of making Bella a nuanced, interesting person.

Interesting, but not necessarily likeable. But not liking her doesn’t mean that Bella is a poorly-drawn character. She’s very much an individual, and in fact her lack of relatability is why she grated on my nerves so severely as the series progressed. Not just anyone would think and behave the way Bella does, but to Meyer’s credit, Bella’s questionable decisions are driven by and stem from a consistent worldview and inner logic. That’s an achievement -- Bella’s personality doesn’t shift around so that she’ll act in the way that best suits the plot, but rather reacts to situations according to who she already is.

In just the first eleven pages of the book, we get a strong sense of Bella’s personality and how she’s been shaped by her particular background and dynamic with her mother. Bella clearly views herself as the practical, responsible adult to Renee’s whimsical child, and it’s given her a skewed view of her emotional maturity. It’s why she’s so susceptible to Edward’s surface charms, and it also explains a lot of her, frankly, melodramatic narration throughout the rest of the first chapter.

2. Fear and Loathing in Forks

Bella’s already made up her mind that Forks sucks, everything about it’s depressing and it’s too green and she’s going to hate it there. That fits with her overall characterization -- Bella is stubborn, and once she makes up her mind about something it’s very hard to change it. So it makes sense that she’d think about her approaching first day of school with a kind of fatalism. You know, “I bet my locker won’t open, and I won’t know where to sit at lunch so I’ll be standing there holding my tray like a goon, and everyone will be staring at me thinking I’m a loser,” etc.

Except she goes well beyond ordinary pessimism. She kills any fleeting sense of happiness about her truck with the comment that “[her] horrific day tomorrow would be just that much less dreadful.” [8]. That’s...kind of extreme. Later, while she’s mournfully staring at herself in the bathroom mirror, conveniently cataloguing her appearance for the reader while she thinks about how everything’s terrible, Bella’s narration suggests that she isn’t just afraid of not fitting in, but of being actively ostracized. It’s bizarre.

I’ll break down her thought process in excruciating detail. First, she’s worried about being an obvious outsider: “All the kids here had grown up together -- their grandparents had been toddlers together. I would be the new girl from the big city, a curiosity, a freak.” [9-10]. On the surface, this isn’t too odd; naturally she worries that the social groups in Forks are already set in stone, and there won’t be any place for her (except Bella also never expresses a desire to make friends, just to avoid scrutiny). There’s some judgment toward the small town, too, in that “girl from the big city” line -- like these people can’t possibly relate to someone from the sprawling metropolis of Phoenix, because I guess in her mind no one in Forks has ever gone on vacation. But that last bit? She’ll probably be a curiosity, sure, but a freak?

She admits that she “[doesn’t] relate well to people [her] age,” or “relate well to people, period.” [10]. Again, we’re still in the realm of normalcy, until Bella escalates again: “Sometimes I wondered if I was seeing the same things...that the rest of the world was seeing.... Maybe there was a glitch in my brain.” [11]. Bella never adequately explains, here or later, what it is that she supposedly sees differently, or where the disconnect is between her viewpoint and others’. Even as a reader, it’s difficult to infer; my best takeaway is that it’s not really a problem of relating to others that Bella has, but a general lack of any interest in other people (besides the Cullens, but that’s for later). It’s certainly unusual that Bella has no interest in making friends, and that she’s so sure she’ll be this reviled outcast even though she never even hints at being bullied in the past -- she’s just a wallflower.

Bella also has a skewed perception of her physical appearance; she considers herself very strange for being a pale, slender brunette, claiming that “physically, [she’d] never fit in anywhere.” [10]. Which...well, from the outside, this is fucking laughable. But for the sake of argument, let’s say that Bella has internalized a particular idea of what constitutes “normal,” informed by the blonde, tanned athlete that apparently every other girl in Phoenix embodies. Bella obviously doesn’t fit this mold, but considering how worried she is about standing out, wouldn’t it be worse if she did? If she were a tanned volleyball player with a blonde ponytail, she’d stick out like a sore thumb in Forks. Instead, though, she’s worried that not fitting her classmate’s expectations of what a Phoenix girl will look like will be yet another black mark on her social record. She’s really set this up so that she’ll be unhappy either way.

Overall, to Bella, the cause of whatever is so off-putting about her isn’t important: “All that mattered was the effect. And tomorrow would be just the beginning.” [11]. This is so ominous, for no apparent reason! The next day, she’s practically hyperventilating in the parking lot as she drags herself to her first class. [15].

My god. What is Bella so afraid of? Maybe this is just the product of general social anxiety, but I think a large part of it is that she imagines this cloud of stigma around her based on her parents’ divorce, and particularly her mother’s reputation in town. In the front office, she reflects that “[she] was expected, a topic of gossip no doubt. Daughter of the Chief’s flighty ex-wife, come home at last.” [13]. Implicit here is her assumption that everyone in town has a disdainful impression of Renee -- that they’ve all taken Charlie’s “side” in the divorce and are still thinking about it seventeen years later. Charlie’s own stagnation probably contributes to this impression; when Bella was sitting at the kitchen table earlier, she noted that Charlie hasn’t changed a thing in the house since Renee lived there, and that “it was impossible, being in this house, not to realize that Charlie had never gotten over [Renee].” [11-12].

So maybe Bella thinks that Renee’s supposed bad reputation in town has tainted her by association. After all, Bella’s stayed away from Forks all this time, too. This plus her (very believably teenage) tendency to over-dramatize results in Bella feeling like she’s under a negative spotlight as soon as she goes out in public. I like this interpretation because it’s consistent with the other ways her parents’ divorce has shaped her personality -- in my last post I went into detail about how it’s bred this resentment toward Forks and Charlie, and now it also contributes to Bella’s feelings of being an unwelcome intruder.

3. Fuck Me, I Still Haven’t Gotten Past Page 15

Okay, I’m at like 1,400 words and Bella hasn’t even made it to class yet, but I’m not splitting up this post or I’ll never escape this single chapter. Fuck.

4. Bella Is Kind of a Dick

For all that I appreciate how much there is to see in Bella when you look under the hood, she’s...really not a nice person. I can write off her grumbling early on in the chapter, when she dismisses Billy Black (along with the majority of the time she’s spent in Forks) as one of those “painful, unnecessary things” she’s so good at blocking from her memory, as sounding worse than it actually is. [6]. As a general rule, Bella’s not malicious, she just doesn’t care. Plus, that conversation with Charlie was already fraught, so she wasn’t in the most charitable mindset.

She seriously turns up the judgmental energy once she gets to school, though, and starts directing it not just at the town in general, but particular people. For all that she was expecting, and dreading, being shunned, Bella’s no happier when her classmates make friendly overtures instead. She’s consistently dismissive and critical of pretty much everyone she speaks to: Eric is “a boy with skin problems and hair black as an oil slick,” and Bella immediately pegs him as the “overly helpful type” for...talking to her [16]; she describes Jessica’s conversation as “prattling” and “[doesn’t] try to keep up” [17]; she smirks at the idea of Edward rejecting Jessica -- who has been nothing but pleasant to Bella so far -- and has to bite her lip to hide it [22]; in the next chapter she describes Mike’s lab partner as a girl with “braces and a bad perm and compares Mike himself to a “golden retriever” -- and then, hilariously, notes that she’s “never been enormously tactful.” [31]. Yeah, no shit??

In contrast to her opinion of the general “gawking” horde (she uses that word three times in seven pages), Bella’s descriptions of the Cullens glow with praise -- they strike her as odd, but Bella’s neutral-to-positive in her narration. The section where she first sees them was actually the least interesting part of the chapter to me on the reread, notable only because it highlights another unsavory aspect of Bella’s personality: she’s shallow, in that she’s far more forgiving of beautiful people than she is of the ordinary, pimpled rabble. For instance, when Edward keeps looking at her, Bella says he��s “still staring, but not gawking like the other students” [22]. Sure, Bella. She also, again hilariously, sniffs at Jessica’s reaction to the apparent incest-fest going on at the Cullen table, calling it “the shock and condemnation of the small town” before grudgingly admitting to herself that siblings fucking would be weird in Phoenix, too. [20-21].

A theme that recurs throughout this chapter, and the series in general, is Bella’s desire to rise above the ordinary; her reaction to the Cullens is just the first seed. She’s so taken in by Edward’s beauty, in fact, that she dwells on his handsomeness and pleasant voice even as he’s glaring at her and giving off what should be obvious serial-killer vibes.

5. Bella Is Shocked -- Shocked! -- When She Gets the Unfriendly Reaction She’s Been Expecting This Whole Time

And this is the last thing that really stood out to me on the reread: all the time that Edward is staring her down in Biology, ripping chunks out of the desk to keep from killing everyone in the room and probably drooling a little, Bella's main takeaway is, “How rude!” rather than “Holy shit this guy wants to eat my face.” When she first notices him glaring at her, she calls it “the strangest expression...hostile, furious.” [23]. She’s “shocked” and “bewildered,” but not actually frightened -- right now she’s a little busy sniffing her hair and telling us that she uses strawberry-scented shampoo [23]. She’s oblivious to the murderous intent radiating off of Edward (and to be fair, murderous intent is not what you expect from an unfriendly lab partner), instead continuing to describe him as simply “strange” for never relaxing his posture or the hand he’s clenched into a fist. Even though she spent a lot of time expecting to be shunned (see above), now that it’s happening, she’s surprised and even tries to reassure herself -- “It couldn’t have anything to do with me. He didn’t know me from Eve.” [24]. Later, when Edward is trying to switch classes, she adds, “It was impossible that this stranger could take such a sudden, intense dislike to me.” [27]. But like...wasn’t that exactly what she thought would happen, with everybody? All I can reason is that Bella was settling into the pattern of being welcomed, only to be jarred when someone finally was unpleasant.

And I’m not saying that Bella actually has great self-esteem, but it’s also not completely in the toilet at the start of the series. I just want to note that, before she gets all caught up in Edward, she does have moments where she doesn’t blame herself for everything. It’s only once Bella starts judging herself against a vampire standard of physical perfection that she starts self-flagellating for things like [checks notes] “having blood.”

Anyway. Bella continues to be more startled by than afraid of Edward throughout Biology, and when class ends and he rushes out, she’s angry: “He was so mean. It wasn’t fair.” [25].

Interestingly, when Mike approaches her in the aftermath, Bella is much more receptive to him than she’s been of anyone else so far. She describes him as “cute,” “baby-faced,” and having a friendly smile -- suddenly she appreciates being acknowledged by a classmate, one who happens to be good-looking. Tellingly, she smiles back and describes his talkativeness as him being a “chatterer” (rather than “prattling” like Jessica), and doesn’t mind that he’s “clearly admiring,” although the flattery isn’t “enough to ease [her] irritation” at Edward’s unfriendliness. [25-26].

However tempting it is to blast Bella for being shallow, especially after sitting through all her critical narration so far, ultimately this reads to me like she needed some reassurance after a weird social encounter, not just that she’s more tolerant of attractive people. (Although she is more tolerant of attractive people. But then again, so are most humans, so it’s not just her.)

When Bella encounters Edward again in the front office, she finally experiences “a thrill of genuine fear,” which again is quickly overshadowed by offense. Also, this sentence: “But Edward Cullen’s back stiffened, and he turned slowly to glare at me -- his face was absurdly handsome -- with piercing, hate-filled eyes.” She follows that up by saying his voice is “like velvet.” [27]. GIRL!! NOW IS NOT THE TIME!

And so, finally, the first chapter ends with Bella fighting angry tears the whole drive home. Honestly, I'm not sure what she wants from her classmates, other than for them not to particularly notice her. Things don’t get any friendlier on her end even as she’s drawn into Jessica and Mike’s social circle -- Bella’s just along for the ride, because by the end of the first day she’s already thoroughly preoccupied with Edward. And preoccupied she will remain.

#tl;dr: bella is complex and also a jerk #i'm sick of messing with this so i'm just going to post it with resigned disgust #twilight renaissance #bella swan #i stared too long and the twilight abyss gazed back #honestly i don't think section 5 even has like...a point #and i think i did have one in the beginning but also fuck it #twilight meta #twilight reread: i've made a huge mistake

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sinnersandsaints-linwrites · 3 years ago

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hi! hope you’re doing well. i am a big fan of your current work.

i was wondering how the RO’s would react to an mc so full of self loathing, insecurity, & constant guilt that every single day is a mental fight just to find any, singular reason to love themselves. an mc that is so afraid to upset the people they care about that they’ve learned to say “yes” & “okay” to everything because they’re so afraid of disappointing their loved ones, to the point where they bury everything down and no matter how bad they want to talk to someone about it, they feel that deep down they just physically can’t. an mc that does a deceptively amazing job at hiding it all, that feels bad after every little mishap they could have avoided. one that loves fiercely and passionately, yet harbors none of that same love towards themselves. when would the RO’s catch on? what would happen?

sorry if this was oddly specific, or just too much. i’ve just been thinking about it all day.

hello dear, hope everything is going good (or will be better!) <3

when would the RO’s catch on?

I'd say all of them caught on fairly soon - especially Khari & Riven who are (against their will tbh) more sensitive to people's true emotions. Morgan knows the game, so they'd recognise the familiar things, Roan and Sage are just scarily good at reading people this way. Ariel and Sasha's been there, for a while, so they would recognise it because of that.

what would happen?

Few things;

Khari would stage an intervention - MC is getting help, now. Therapy, counselling or at least talking to someone about all this is a must. They'd approach from the side of "if you don't want to help yourself, then think what could happen if this affects your work - your work that is about keeping others safe."

Roan is the one to take more gentle and compassionate approach - offering their ear, their arm to cry on, or easy activities that could take MC's mind off of things. They'd make themself more accessible to the MC, always there to help with anything, listen and be their rock.

Morgan would take the approach of 'if you think its okay for you to do it, it's okay for me to do it too' so all of their dark and similar thoughts would now be voiced - loudly. Want them to stop? Too bad, they'll get help when MC does. Is it fair/healthy? No, but if it works, it works, and that's all they care about.

Ariel would sit down the MC and explain how they felt (the same) for several decades. How it influenced their personality, life, decisions, relationships. How they broke out of it, and that they are more than willing to help. In between all that would be, of course, many compliments and words of affirmation directed at the MC, as well as a few "it pains me to see you hate the person I love so much."

Sage has a very unique way of approaching this - they'd straight up bully MC into loving themself. Aggressive comments, vague threats, that sorts of things. "Who gave you the right to look this divine?" "How dare you be this smart?" "Are you trying to start a fight with me over how perfect you are? We both know I'd win." But, their hidden weapon is "[Name], I murdered people. I think we both know who's the better person between the two of us."

Riven does their best to show MC how they view the MC. How beautiful they see the MC, how brave do they think they are, how kind, strong, smart, etc. And they are willing to do it 24/7. Constant texts, calls, left sticky notes, surprise visits, as well as sad puppy eyes and "please stop insulting the person I love/my best friend."

Sasha attacks with aggressive positivity - and it's just what it sounds like. MC is about to be flooded with compliments, affection, praise, words of affirmation. Will also get threats such as "if you make a self-deprecating joke or statement, I will platonically or romantically compliment you for an hour straight. for. every. joke. or. statement."

#ROs asks #if: sinners and saints #anon asks

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theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin · 4 years ago

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In your latest post, you said that Dumbledore MEANT to put Harry in a abusive household. That, or when he found out he did nothing to stop it. Why is that?

You’re going to get a lot of people angry with me. Well, I suppose they’re already angry. Somewhere out there, on the wider internet.

Right, anyway, the evidence of Harry’s abuse is so overwhelming that it seems improbable to me that Dumbledore wasn’t aware of what was happening. More, every interaction he has with not only Harry, but characters in similar circumstances, lends me to believe that in the event that Dumbledore does know he’d take no action.

Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone: Scene 1

We start out the entire Harry Potter series with Minerva and Dumbledore waiting in the early dawn for Hagrid’s arrival and to place Harry with the Dursleys. Minerva immediately announces her discomfort with this,

She specifically says the following:

"You don't mean — you can't mean the people who live here? Dumbledore, you can't. You couldn't find two people who are less like us."

Lily Evans’ relatives are infamous enough such that Minerva McGonagall, who is presumably not as close as her like aged peers (i.e. Sirius, Remus, and Peter) knows about them.

Granted, some of this is anti-muggle sentiment. Minerva isn’t sure that suburban muggles raising a magical child like Harry Potter is a good idea. Nevertheless, she has deep misgivings, and relays them to Dumbledore.

We know from further evidence that Dumbledore is perfectly aware of what Petunia and Vernon are like as well. He gives Harry to the Dursleys anyway.

Dumbledore, for his own reasons, chooses not to listen.

Dumbledore’s Letter to Petunia

Dumbledore writes a letter to Petunia, knowing it is highly necessary, as he gives Harry to the family. The letter is... vaguely threatening but in a very polite Dumbledore way. It pretty much implies “Take Harry, or else, also be nice to your dead sister.”

The point is, Dumbledore is aware that this letter is highly necessary. And then... other things happen.

Dumbledore Sends Hagrid

Dumbledore sends Hagrid to pick Harry up.

Ordinarily, in such circumstances, Minerva is sent to introduce muggleborn children to the Wizarding World. “Perhaps she was busy,” you say, too busy for Harry Potter? Wizard Jesus and the child of perhaps her favorite students who she openly favors throughout the series?

“Perhaps Dumbledore was being nice to Hagrid, and he had an errand to do anyway,” well, it’s all well and good to be nice to Hagrid, but is he really the best guy to introduce anybody to the Wizarding World?

This is Hagrid, the likelihood of him having taken Harry to an exotic pet shop where Harry then gets eaten by the Chupacabra is 95%. The 5% where it didn’t happen is because Hagrid went to the pet shop alone and some, distant, rational part of his brain told him that Harry would want the pretty owl vs. the one-eyed blood sucking rat demon in the cage next to her.

You don’t send Hagrid if you want a child returned to you with all its limbs intact.

So why do you send Hagrid?

When you want someone who’s so painfully oblivious, loyal, and stupid that they could stare a hellscape in the face and wouldn’t even notice.

Hagrid gets a firsthand view of Harry’s living conditions. He learns that Harry’s relatives have been actively blocking Harry’s letters, that they have run across the country to avoid them. He sees the state of Harry’s clothing in comparison to Dudley, how thin Harry is in comparison to Dudley, and the way the family interacts with each other.

Harry’s child abuse is staring Hagrid right in the face.

Minerva would demand that Harry be placed somewhere else, they can find some other means of protecting him.

What does Hagrid do?

He gives Dudley a pig’s tail illegally and proceeds to tell Harry that Dumbledore is the greatest man who ever lived.

Other Evidence Comes to Light

Other characters start getting pretty big warning signs that all’s not right at the Potters.

Ron and Hermione know the situation is “bad” and that Harry’s relatives “hate magic”. They’re also kids and don’t really understand what this means, the idea of being abused and hated by your guardians is unthinkable to them and Harry doesn’t come out and just say it.

That said, they’ve seen enough that they drop hints to those around them. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley are told about the bars on Harry’s window. Ron was so concerned about Harry in the summer after first year that he steals his father’s car with Fred and George to go pick him up. That is not normal behavior, that is deep concern for your friend.

Despite all of this... nothing happens.

Hermione spends far more time at the Weasleys then Harry ever does. Every summer, he returns to Privet Drive, and it’s likely if Arthur and Molly did have concerns Dumbledore told them off.

Arabella Figg

Arabella has been keeping an eye on Harry for years. She’s noted some very disturbing trends and been witness to years of the Dursleys interacting with Harry Potter.

She passes this information on to Dumbledore.

He knows how bad it is.

Harry Potter

Harry tells Dumbledore he does not wish to remain at the Dursleys, he notes that they don’t like him and he doesn’t like them. Now, he tries to downplay it, but this is a child saying some pretty disturbing things. You don’t brush this off.

Dumbledore does.

Dumbledore Visits the Dursleys

In book 6, Dumbledore visits the Dursleys and sees, in person, how bad it is. However, he shows no surprise, only vague disappointment in Petunia. Tsk, tsk, Petunia, I thought you were better than this.

He offers a few threats and then he and Harry go on their merry way.

Severus Snape

Snape is Dumbledore’s spy who reads Harry’s mind for half a year. Granted, Snape is a bastard who loathes Harry Potter, but he sees evidence of the Dursleys abuse of Harry.

We know, from what he relays to Dumbledore later, that he had at least some concern for Harry and was very disturbed by Dumbledore’s plan to murder him in cold blood due to the horcrux.

I think it’s very likely Severus Snape knew and told Dumbledore that Harry was being abused. I’m sure Albus’ response was, “Bitch, I know, would you like a lemon drop?”

Point being, there is no conceivable way that Albus Dumbledore, even if he was the world’s dumbest man, didn’t know exactly how bad it was. He let’s it happen anyway.

But What About the Blood Wards?

Dumbledore eventually tells Harry that the reason he can’t run away from Privet Drive is because of the blood wards created by his mother. They can only be applied if he lives with blood relatives and protect the Dursley house as long as Harry considers it home.

Now, this is a bit suspect given that Harry really considers Hogwarts his home, Privet Drive is just that hell hole he has to go back to every summer. Even the Burrow is more his home than Privet Drive so... That doesn’t sound right.

More, though, there are other means of protection.

There’s the Fidelius which Dumbledore casts on Sirius’ house in book 5. Given that, Harry really could have lived with Sirius (well, Sirius is not in a good place to have a kid around and that would be a disaster and a half). Point being, Harry could be raised elsewhere and there are wards that could protect him.

More, Voldemort and the Death Eaters are out of commission for thirteen years. Indeed, we see Dumbledore up Harry’s security detail by secretly assigning the Order to tail him after fourth year.

So, for a very long time, it’s not about Harry’s protection and when it does become that we see Dumbledore make significant changes.

So, what could it be?

Well, let’s look at Dumbledore’s other actions. Dumbledore prevents Harry from becoming prefect because “he thought it would go to his head”. Which, Harry should absolutely not be made prefect at all, and Ron’s a laughable candidate too but...

To me that’s very telling.

I hate to say this, but this is Dumbledore, but I think he has a very similar reasoning behind Harry going to the Dursleys.

He doesn’t want Harry to be corrupted by the Boy Who Lived persona. He wants him in a certain state of mind when he enters into the wizarding world and... Frankly, he wants him vulnerable. Dumbledore, in time, will need to either murder this boy or have him kill himself. If Harry has a halfway decent guardian, that task becomes a hell of a lot harder.

Harry has to love the wizarding world so much, trust Dumbledore so much, that these things are worth dying for.

You Mentioned Something About Dumbledore’s Other Actions?

Dumbledore has no sympathy for victims of child abuse.

Tom Riddle, an impoverished orphan loathed by those in his orphanage, he thinks is the very devil and sends him back into the Blitz with a smile and a wave. Enjoy the bombs, Tom, hope you die.

Severus Snape, the half blood child of an abusive muggle father and absentee mother, who is nearly murdered by Sirius Black via Remus Lupin, is told to shut the fuck up and sit down before he ruins the lives of his betters.

Dumbledore has a very bad track record with this and, well, Harry Potter is not an exception.

To be fair, I think the wizarding world has not concept of CPS or even child abuse. There’s no hint of a foster system, you go to the closest relative of the godparents. So, I think to them, you’re stuck with whoever you’re stuck with and if your uncle rapes you then it sucks to be you.

#ask #theviolettulip #harry potter #albus dumbledore

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shai-manahan · 2 years ago

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YIPPIE HAPPY BIRTHDAY ALONZO MY FAVOURITE CHILD AND ALSO MY ONLY HAPPINESS IN LIFE HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOUUUUUUU !!!!!!

and regarding my thoughts on Alonzo as of now, i have a feeling that they may play a much larger role in the future than we think, by looking at our circumstances i have a vague theory that they too are walking towards a similar goal to that of MC, maybe not saving the city but perhaps cleaning it of its pests? or maybe they're aiming for something much higher than we can even think of as of right now, BUTTTTT WHATEVER it dosnet matter because they do seem like someone we can trust even though they're so cold with us 😅 but this shall not deter me from romancing them because who dosen't want the perfect enemies to lovers trope plus they give me the vibes of an unwilling mother of the group who just happened to be at the wrong and at the wrong time and now have to deal with an asshole (or two) who have the energy of a handful of nasty goblins, in a nutshell they give me big mommy of the two vibes and it's just my gut tell me that but whatever 😃

as for the theory thing, it's just a casual theory but i believe that MC was somehow involved in either possibly running their normal life (maybe they got tangled with one of their family members who was into some shady business) or indirectly caused them great pain which our little MC isnt aware of (or has forgotten) and maybe that's why both Alex and Vincent are so concerned about them. maybe the event was too traumatic in itself even though they no (or a little) hand in it which drove them down the alley of self loathing , OR JUST MAYBEEEE it wasn't MC's fault at all and they were just at the wrong place at the wrong time and spotting them Alzono just automatically had a misunderstanding and blamed them for the whole shit, whatever the reason is Alonzo hates our guts but i shall not be deterred! come at me you ice cold bastard!!

p.s. may i hug them once??? PRETTY PLEASEEEEEE I SWEAR IM SO SHORT I WON'T EVEN REACH THEIR SHOULDERS (plus i hope they won't kill me :P) , btw , a couple of questions regarding them (its strictly for research i tell you!)

1. what's their height?

2. their favorite colour?

3. favorite flower? and does it have some sort of symbolism behind it?

4. favorite animal? do they have a pet or intend on doing so?

5. what's their comfort food? or maybe their guilty pleasure?

6. do they like celebrating their birthdays?

7. do they perhaps have a family member or sibling? (i would gladly have them as my uncle!)

8. are they a red flag or na? :)

p.p.s by the time i learn how to draw properly you're all screwed :D *secretly holds an Alonzo and Wesley plushie closely*

AND FINALLY I JUST WANTED TO THANK YOU ONCE AGAIN FOR MAKING SUCH AN AWESOME IF AND WONDERFUL CHARACTERS WITH SO MUCH DIVERSITY I HOPE YOU HAVE AN AWESOME DAY AHEAD !!!!! ❤🎉

here's some apple pies that i baked virtually 🍰🍰🍰 as a thank you :D

and oof the ask got lengthy, AGAIN 👁👄👁

unwilling mother of the group who just happened to be at the wrong and at the wrong time

This is so funny to me help 😭 Quite accurate, though. Alonzo has that vibe, indeed.

These are interesting thoughts btw! I love those theories as well. There are actually quite a few hints in the game now with regards to Alonzo's reasons for hating the MC, though I suppose they're not easy to find as of the moment. When they get revealed, however, I suspect tears will be shed (more than the flashback and reunion scenes with Wesley combined). It's just that bad tbh.

And yes, you'll get the chance to hug them :'))))

For your questions--

1. what's their height?

Okay so, I'm gonna shamelessly admit that I forgot the specifics 💦I can tell you they're tall, but I literally answered an ask about this once and now I can't find it lmao so... let's leave it at that for now.

2. their favorite colour?

Hmm... black. Yeah, I think that's what they like the most.

3. favorite flower? and does it have some sort of symbolism behind it?

Ah, man :'))) Their favorite flower would probably the Sampaguita. Mostly because it reminds them of their early childhood. The flower also symbolizes hope and humility, concepts that Alonzo treasures a lot.

4. favorite animal? do they have a pet or intend on doing so?

They like bird-watching, if that counts? Alonzo doesn't have a pet, but they used to take care of stray cats when they were a kid. Sometimes they still do.

5. what's their comfort food? or maybe their guilty pleasure?

Alonzo loves spicy foods!!! (some of their faves are laing, sinantolan, and shrimp bicol express)

6. do they like celebrating their birthdays?

Their birthday is actually a very, very sensitive topic to them jdkasjdkajka It brings back a lot of bad memories, but at the same time, some of the memories also comfort them? It's a bit complicated.

7. do they perhaps have a family member or sibling? (i would gladly have them as my uncle!)

You'll meet their mother in Book 2 :)))))))) that's all I can say

8. are they a red flag or na? :)

I've mentioned it here, but especially in Alonzo's case, I honestly think the MC's the one that should be considered a red flag if we're labeling people lmao. Alonzo also has a very caring side to them, so I'd never classify them as one tbh. But idk. It's very subjective, and I feel like it's your prerogative whether to view them as such or not.

Thank you! I'll never get tired of answering long asks haha

#e alonzo #interactive fiction #interactive story #hollowed minds series #hollowed minds book one #hollowed minds #ask #taconextdoor #writing #wip #if wip #choicescript #cyoa #cscript #interactive game #interactive novel #hosted games

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writteninsunshine · 2 years ago

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All I Ever Knew Was The Taste Of Your Lips Against Mine - Fizzarolli/Asmodeus - NSFWish

Title: All I Ever Knew Was The Taste Of Your Lips Against Mine

Author: Keith

Fandom: Helluva Boss

Setting: Ozzie and Fizzarolli’s Mansion

Pairing: Fizzarolli/Asmodeus | Ozzie

Characters: Fizzarolli, Asmodeus | Ozzie

Genre: Angst/Hurt/Comfort/Romance

Rating: M

Chapters: 1/1

Word Count: 2491

Type Of Work: One-Shot

Status: Complete

Warnings: Gay, Slash, Yaoi, MLM, Mutual Pining, Philophobia, Open Relationship, Amputation, Oral Sex Mention, Food, Fire Hazard, Original Female Character Mention

Disclaimer: I only own Nikiva, who is mentioned.

Summary: He couldn't, or maybe wouldn't, accept that Fizzarolli had to leave.

AN: Hey guys, it’s me again! Just thought I ought to say, if you want vague updates and to talk to me more, I have a writing Tumblr, too! Twitter is Sunshinecackle, and Tumblr is Writteninsunshine! I also have a writing Discord that is currently pretty dead. xD If you want it, please contact me on Tumblr/Twitter!

I sent my spreadsheet of fic ideas for Helluva Boss to my husband and asked him to pick one for me to work on. He chose this one, and I wasn’t sure about it at first. I completed it while I was awake consecutively. Who knew I would get so invested in the Slut Husbands discussing feelings?

Helluva Boss Fic Masterlist

All I Ever Knew Was The Taste Of Your Lips Against Mine

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He swore he’d caught fire in those green eyes, he’d lost his mind and found it in the other’s kiss, he’d been smashed into pieces and put back together with only his plans in mind.

And, yet, he couldn’t ever possibly voice as much.

Fizarolli had seen several ballsy demons try to admit feelings for Asmodeus on many occasions, and every last one of them had not only been thrown out on their ass but banned from Ozzie’s clubs. Love was something he looked at with disgust, the one thing that made him cringe, the one thing that he found to be deplorable. In the Lust Ring, there were rarely taboos, but Asmodeus made it a point to integrate his loathing of love into his entire persona.

It was fine. This was fine. They had all kinds of wild, decadent, debauched sex, they were constantly touching, spent time together, shared meals, and even a bed. It was almost like love as it was, it was easy, comfortable, natural, even. As long as he kept the ‘L’ word to himself, far, far away from Ozzie, then it would be fine.

He didn’t care when Ozzie slept around because, at the end of the day, he’d always come home to him. Hell, he watched sometimes or listened in, and that was always fine. The one thing he disliked was the Fizzbots. Those things, he felt, were competition. There was no framing it any other way, they could be made for any specification, they could do and be anything that Fizzarolli himself was, or even things he couldn’t be.

But they would lack the one thing that Asmodeus hated, the thing that made him sick to his stomach, the thing that his Fizzarolli had found in his heart.

The sunlight streamed through the large glass sliding door in the kitchen that lead to the lavish backyard, lighting up the purple feathers along his shoulders and arms. The robe loosely tied around his hips covered his crotch from the popping grease in the pan and belled out in the back over his tail feathers. Just like every morning, Olli sat on the island behind him on the farthest corner in order to get the best view, appreciating it with his hand on his cock. Since he wasn’t cooking, he hadn’t made an effort to dress, not even like the lazy one his lover (though he’d never say that out loud) had made.

“Like what you see, Olli Baby?” He questioned, not turning to look except for the spectral bull head that turned entirely to take in his wanton form. Fizz pulled his lower lip between his teeth, trying to mitigate the adoring stare and dopey smile he could feel trying to take root on his face. In a way, he thought he already might have gotten caught, but he hoped not. The bull seemed ready to return a mind-numingly happy smile, and that suited him just fine.

It kept him sated. It kept him moving forward. It kept him from divulging his secret, his half-witted, obtuse, imbecilic secret. He was a brainless fool for feeling it in the first place, for wanting to share it. This was something to keep under lock and key; He’d considered another robotic transplant, put a fake heart in his chest so he could remove his Love Organ. That was what everyone called it, right? He could always use the excuse that it would make him fuck longer, even if Ozzie never complained about his refractory time.

He’d already amputated his arms and legs for some of their kinks, he’d removed his horns to make himself more attractive (to impress the imp-hating crowd around Ozzie), and he’d rebranded his sense of humor to suit an adult audience. He’d do literally anything to preserve or boost Asmodeus’ image. Maybe he was his most adherent devotee, but his every breath was owed to the older demon. He was nothing without the King of Lust.

There was no hope for a clean amputation of him from Asmodeus’ side.

“Hell yeah, Babe. You look bea– So fuckin’ hot like this.” Nice slip-up, dummy.

“Thanks.” Swishing his hips from side to side, Ozzie rose his tail feathers to expose his thighs beneath the robe, and Olli made a show of letting his dick wrap around his fingers. With the distracting, stupid thoughts swirling in his head, he was struggling to keep his boner, but hopefully, Ozzie wouldn’t notice. He was too focused on the bacon he was frying, the eggs, french toast, and pancakes all on different burners.

That didn’t mean his other heads weren’t focused on Olli, the goat head having swam over to join the bull in gawking at him.

“You’re flaggin’, Baby, something up?” Ozzie observed, and Fizz flinched, looking away with shame clear on his face. The sight of this stopped Ozzie’s heart, and his stomach cracked in half and plummeted to rest in his feet, “What did we say about shame, Olli Baby?” It was way harder for him to keep his smooth voice steady, now, and he didn’t know why. It only added to his unease, and he finally wiped his hands on a kitchen towel and turned to face his silly little guy fully.

“I– No shame, ever,” Olli murmured, then repeated himself louder. His voice quivered and Ozzie pushed the spatula back on the counter a bit more before making his way to his little imp and scooping him up off the granite countertop.

“What’s got you feeling shame, Baby?” Whatever it was, Ozzie was going to fix it, no matter what it took. If he had to order Brick to take care of someone or soothe him over a new kink that he’d discovered, he would. It would be his new mission in life to wipe that look off of the imp’s face.

“I… I don’t–” There were tears in his eyes suddenly and he looked away pointedly. The bull reached down as much as he could to rub on the other’s horns, and he huffed softly. All three heads looked at one another, a bereft sort of concern on their faces, “I can’t, Ozzie.”

“Let it out, Baby, I’ve got you.”

I’ve got you. How many times had Ozzie said that to him? How many times had he had him? Satan, he couldn’t think of a single time that he hadn’t had him when something was wrong, or when something was right, or whenever he deemed it fit to say it.

Ozzie always had him, and he was going to drop him like a thousand bricks the second he blurted out his feelings.

“I think I’m going to make you sick.” Olli finally choked out, only to be met with Ozzie tutting out a promise that Olli could tell him anything without judgment. There was no holding back, now, because Ozzie was being like this and whenever he was gentle and doting, Olli couldn’t deny him a single thing, “I… I…”

“You…?”

“Iloveyou.” It came out a jumbled, growly mess, and Fizzarolli squeezed his eyes shut so tightly that he thought his face might rip in half. For a long moment, there was silence, the deafening kind, but Ozzie’s grip on him, from his butt to his head pillowed and held carefully in his arms, never loosened. Olli waited, his breath held on an exhale, for the inevitable, for the pin to drop and the grenade to go off, but nothing came. No explosion, no distasteful clucking, nothing.

So far, his answer was absent from the conversation. Not even a breath, an admonishment, a heartbeat. Or, maybe, there were a few ragged breaths and stuttering heartbeats too many, and he was just about to be rattled out of his favorite hammock. A deeper breath, one likely meant to calm him, slowly inflated Ozzie’s chest, and the exhale nearly killed him. It would be punctuated with a quiet ‘get out,’ a promise that Brick and Nikiva would see to it that he had all his stuff and that they never saw each other again.

“You do…?” Ozzie finally asked, his expressions indecipherable, his voice muted and strained. What was usually loud, proud, and velvety smooth almost sounded microscopic and rough, like sandpaper or Fizzarolli’s forked tongue. Slowly, the imp nodded, jingleless without his cap on, still unable to look up at the demon holding him. Never once did his cradle even shift how he was standing, his lax posture having not even gone stiff.

This was off-script. This was uncharted territory. This was unnatural, and it took everything in Olli not to move things along on his own because he couldn’t take the waiting. In the end, he lost his nerve, unable to let Ozzie keep him in the dark. It was fine, this was fine, he was just about to lose his reason to live, that wasn’t a big deal. Maybe if he kept telling himself that, he’d actually be fine.

“I… Can pack my stuff. Brick and Nikiva don’t need to bother with it.” Olli frowned, starting to push at Ozzie’s chest, and the elder demon finally moved. Instead of dropping him, letting him fall from his arms, or even jump down on his own, Ozzie’s grip only tightened until he heard something pop. If it was his or Ozzie’s, he wasn’t sure; The only pain that he registered was the pain in his chest, the hammering of his heart against his ribs as it clawed and throbbed in an attempt to make a quick exit.

“Shut up.” Ozzie’s voice was stern suddenly, and as he kept his unwavering stare at the wall, he continued, “Where would you even go?” This is your home died on his tongue before he could open his mouth again.

“I don’t know.” Olli murmured, his own voice cracking on the ‘o,’ making him flinch, “Back to the circus life or something… If Mammon rebuilds Loo Loo Land I could always go replace the RoboF–”

“Shut up.” It was a demand this time, and immediately Olli’s jaw slammed shut so fast and hard that his teeth clicked. This time, it was Ozzie’s turn to flinch, and his arm twitched, but his grip still didn’t slacken. Maybe, just maybe, it tightened again, because Olli was starting to struggle with each breath. If that was Ozzie’s hold on him or his own anxiety, he didn’t know, “Just… Just stop.”

This time, he didn’t dare speak again. Fizzarolli’s cheeks were wet, but he didn’t dare react to them, there wasn’t even a sob on his lips despite one building in his throat. No, he needed to compose himself, even if it felt impossible. Ozzie was probably trying to pick out a way to tell his longest-running roommate that they had to find new living arrangements.

“...What makes you think I’d want you to leave?” As if it wasn’t obvious.

“You never let anyone stay after they say it,” The dam had broken, “I’ve seen tons of demons say the ‘L’ word, and they didn’t even get a chance to take it back.” They hadn’t even had a chance to put their clothes on, Ozzie threw them out buck-ass naked if that was how they had been during the confession. Olli wasn’t looking forward to people seeing him nude and crying in the street.

The second and a half that it took Asmodeus to process that brought him to the conclusion that Olli had a very good point.

“Do you want to take it back?”

“I–” Olli paused, turning his head to look up at Ozzie finally. Everything about him had entranced him for years, now. They’d lived together for upwards of ten years, and there was only a handful of nights that he hadn’t slept in Ozzie’s bed that entire time. Sharing anything and everything was the norm, he had no idea what he’d even do without Ozzie around. He’d be out of a job, and he’d be entirely out of creative drive. There really was no Fizzarolli without Asmodeus, but there had always been Asmodeus. Asmodeus before Fizzarolli, Asmodeus with Fizzarolli, and there would easily be Asmodeus without Fizzarolli.

“Olli Baby?” The pet name made him shudder and he snapped his teeth.

“Stop. Just… Put me down. Rip the band-aid off, Oz. I… I can’t take the suspense.” Within the space between ‘down’ and ‘rip,’ Fizz’s tone dropped the anger and abruptly the sadness returned to his voice.

“The band-aid?” Ozzie asked softly, barely audible. He didn’t exactly know if he could do it if he had it in him… But he couldn’t just let Olli continue to suffer like this, “...I love you, too.”

Maybe more than anything else that Ozzie could have said, any amount of insults, curses, or rebukes, that was the thing that took him by surprise the most. His eyes had fallen again when he’d tried to get him to kick him out, but they shot back up to him, wide-eyed and confused, at that barely audible admission.

“You… What?”

“Don’t make me say it again, I’m already lightheaded.” Ozzie finally told him, gulping a bit. His eyes had drifted to the ceiling, and he took another shaky breath, “Just… I talked to Nikiva about it. She asked me what I would do without you in my life and I–” Trailing off, he shook his head, “If you walk out of here I’ll be incomplete again.”

Again. Incomplete again.

“You always have someone–”

“I always have you. By my side. You aren’t just some frequent, easy lay. Not… Not to me. You never were. You always put more work in for me than anyone has, and I…” His spectral heads both swapped to the right side, and Ozzie lifted Olli to his shoulder. They nuzzled against Fizz’s face, and after a moment, he returned the kindness, “...I think you need a bj, Baby.”

That pulled a laugh from Olli, who finally grinned at him, his forked tongue popping out and leaving a smirk on Asmodeus’ lips.

“If you need to give me a bj, I’ll take one.” This time, there would be no flagging. Ozzie had been just about ready to take them towards the living room when smoke caught Olli’s attention, “Hold up, big guy– Breakfast?”

Ozzie whipped around to see the four pans filled with charred attempts at feeding them, a fire beginning in one of them, and he hissed through his teeth. Each burner was turned off in quick succession, and he’d grabbed the flaming pan to throw it into the sink with cold water. It hissed at him, and the burnt remains of the bacon slithered off metal and he sighed, deadpan.

“A bj, and then we’ll go out.”

“Sounds like a good morning to me.” Even if it was after noon. Morning was what they made of it, and it if was nine PM when the morning started, so be it.

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AN: Well, it looks like I might have an addiction. I sat down and finished this in like, four hours, I think. With a few spaces in between, but still.

#Helluva Boss Fanfic #Helluva Boss Fanfiction #Fizzarozzie #Fizzmodeus #Helluva Boss Fizzarozzie #Helluva Boss Fizzmodeus #Helluva Boss Fizzarolli #Helluva Boss Asmodeus #Helluva Boss Ozzie #Fizzarolli #cw amputation #cw food #cw fire hazard #November Sierra Foxtrot Whiskey

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fabricated-misslieness · 4 years ago

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Hey, can you do a Dazai x Port Mafia Executive Male Reader. Where reader is Dazai former partner before he gets replace by Chuuya and instead of Chuuya coming for Q and fighting Lovecraft its reader instead. Readers ability is like Shigaraki from bnha.

Dazai Osamu x sadistic!male reader

Ngl I was a little confused cause the last time I watched bsd was months ago.

Also made the reader sadistic because yes. i forgot the reason

Part 2

Requested: Yes

Word Count: 3859

Warnings: Mentions of suicide (Dazai stuff ofc), angsty boi

“You want me to pair up with this rookie?” You gesture in the vague direction of Dazai. You know he’s there, but you don’t act like it.

Dazai huffs, offended by your words. He crosses his arms. You weren’t giving him the best impression and if you were going to be partners, he at least had to tolerate you enough to keep his head on his shoulders.

“Now, now,” Mori chides with a sweet tone. You don’t trust the guy, he may act kind, but you’re sure he hides something with that kindness. “He’s already a port mafia executive.” You roll your eyes, he was only one of them because he witnessed the old boss handing down his title ‘willingly’. You seriously doubted he did do it willingly, seeing as it was a mere few minutes before his death. That sort of coincidence belongs to a movie.

“Like I don’t know that.” You shake your head. “Fine, fine, I’ll be his partner. I only want to know what he can do. He has an ability, doesn’t he?”

You finally acknowledge his presence, turning to him and sizing him up. Dazai is flustered by the gesture, but he pretends to act calm and collected, something that works with that young poker face of his.

“Yes--” Mori is interrupted by the executive himself, who is eager to show off.

“Yes, I do.” Dazai replies, uncrossing his arms. “But what’s yours?”

You furrow your eyebrows. Abilities are wide and unique, ranging from psychological to physical to straight magic. Knowing your ability could be a part of his ability. You were to work together so he’d know either way, but at the moment, you wanted to know his weaknesses.

“That’s valuable information.” You crack your knuckles and stretch, pretending to prepare for a fight.

“No fighting in my office.” Mori reminds you. “Or the building, for that matter. One of your abilities is particularly destructive, and we don’t know what you could do. Go to the training area if you’re going to fight.”

You give both of them a smirk, “Who says I was going to fight? I was merely enjoying the look in Dazai’s eye.”

Dazai frowned, quickly fixing his composure. It’s true, he was a little intimidated and he did not mean to let it show.

“You’re quite sadistic, aren’t you?” Mori chuckles, shaking his head.

“That’s one thing right about me, boss.” You smile brightly. Dazai furrows his eyebrows and examines you. That smile of yours is sickeningly sweet, almost mocking. You look like a monster, but maybe that was part of your act. He’d know your ability in no time.

“Well, as partners you do have to know each other’s abilities. I picked Dazai specifically for you.” That gave each of them a hint to each other’s abilities, more to Dazai than anything.

You nod letting out a sigh, “Do you have anything you don’t want, Mori?”

Dazai quirks an eyebrow, interested in the peculiar question. Mori nods, nudging forward a tongue depressor, those big wooden popsicle sticks, one he could very well spare.

You pick up with all but one finger, your middle finger, holding it up for both of them to see. “Do you have anything for the debris?” Mori slides a metal tray towards the edge of the table.

“Pay close attention, Dazai.” You give him a glance before looking back at the stick, putting your final finger on it. It disintegrates in a matter of seconds, turning into pieces so small that they look like ash. “What’s yours?” You turn to him.

Dazai seems to shrink under your gaze, but he keeps a stoic look. “Put your hand on my arm.” You raise an eyebrow. Does he wish to experiment with your ability or is it part of his?

You put your hand on his arm, once again with all but one finger. You don’t trust him, that much is clear.

“Trust me.” The look he gives you is genuine, albeit the smile is devilish, though you oblige all the same.

Your eyebrows furrow when your ability has no effect. The skin doesn’t disintegrate, nor does it fall apart as usual. “That is my ability, No Longer Human.”

“And that is why I paired you two up.”

You huff a little angrily once you realize. His ability stops other abilities, what triggered it you didn’t know, but that wasn’t the most important thing for you. He paired you two up to have him be your control. You don’t need anyone to control you and you don’t want anyone to control you. You want to do you and you do not want this boy to hold you back.

You open your mouth to protest but Mori interrupts you. “This is my decision and mine alone, you cannot say otherwise.” As much as you want to mess up his pretty face, you couldn’t disobey the boss.

“Fine.”

As time grew on, Dazai had become a friend, though sometimes he felt like more than a friend. Despite your early refusal to the idea, you’d really warmed up to each other.

Dazai, the young bastard, was also quite the prick at times. Though you couldn’t really complain about his age since it turns out you’re within the same age range. While he was a prick, he was also caring, as you’d come to learn.

Sometimes he’d hold your forearm when you were touching something, even though over the years you’d built up the habit to not use your middle finger. Every time he did so you would laugh and it would somewhat fluster you, you’d tell him you didn’t need it and without fail he would say “Just in case.” It was nice to know he cared, and the other little gestures he would perform were even nicer.

You were known for being a little sadistic, taking joy from inflicting pain for no reason. When he’d hold you back from attacking some random lackey at the time it would make you angry, but a few minutes later you’d be grateful for it. After all, that lackey wouldn’t be very useful with an injury.

Though sometimes even he couldn’t hold you back. When you’d start a fight with another executive just for your enjoyment, he was quick to be there and keep you in touch. Perhaps you did need control after all.

The other executives were rather thankful for Dazai, as you chose someone to pick on every week. Something you hated about Dazai was that he was immune to your mockery. He got used to it from your partnership and he couldn’t be hurt by your ability. But you supposed it was for the better, the other executives were starting to get really annoyed by you.

Except everything changed when Nakahara came along.

Although your partnership was relatively new, you found comfort in each other’s companies. You protected each other’s weaknesses and complemented each other’s strengths; so when the news came along that Chūya would replace you as Dazai’s partner, both of you were a little ticked off, per say.

Dazai’s first impression on the newer rookie didn’t help their relationship. Chūya annoyed him to the very ends of the Earth and he did not want him to replace you. It wasn’t just Chūya either, he’d grown very fond of you. Sometimes he couldn’t even fight without you; He was used to you being there to back him up, though this detail he would not tell you.

In time, you didn’t look like the monster he’d thought you were in his first impression of you. You actually looked sweet.

Your smile, which for everybody else would be sadistic, turned out to look more endearing to him. Everybody caught onto the fact that the smiles you’d directed at him weren’t the smiles he’d show others. Somehow you hadn’t realized it, but he had.

You’d grown to like him, dare say crush on him, which was something you denied. His triumphant smile after the end of a mission and the jokes he’d make as you fought were always the highlight of your day.

None of you wanted to give up the other.

“This is his decision and his alone, we cannot say otherwise.” You mocked, making Dazai snicker. The fact he used the same words was quite ironic, really.

Tomorrow marked Chūya and his first mission together, so you’d dedicated this day to each other. Dazai did not look forward to tomorrow, and as much as he wanted to vent to you about Chūya’s very abundant annoying qualities, you’d both promised not to talk about it.

The news of your separation had made both of you realize your growing crushes for each other. You were no longer in denial, though you loathed the idea… but when you really thought about it, you didn’t loathe the idea. Musing to yourself about hugging him, playing with his hair… thinking about the fact that you did in fact like it made you gag.

As the night neared to an end, your guts told you to tell him. You wouldn’t see each other all that often anyway and if you were never to interact much, at least you would be getting this off your chest.

“Dazai.” You both stared out the window of the HQ, prior to you speaking up you were in an awkward silence. None of you wanted to say goodbye.

He turned to you and you to him. As much as you wanted to avoid eye contact, you thought it might help. “I like you… don’t joke with me.”

Dazai was going to make a joke. It was amazing how much you got to know him in so little time. He smiled, and your hopes raised when you took notice of how it wasn’t pitiful. “I like you too.”

You immediately let go of the breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“Where’s the big sadistic lion?” Dazai questions, playfully mocking how meek you are right now. His smile seems more joyful than usual, as it should with what just happened.

You snicker, giving him the sadistic smile he’s used to. “I’m right here.”

Dazai was your anchor in the Port Mafia, even when he plead for double suicide with you. Before you were partnered up, you absolutely despised the place. The other executives and the occasional lackeys were fun to provoke but it was almost as if that was your coping mechanism. You often complained about how awful the Mafia was handled with the previous boss, but he would never change anything. He was an idiot up until his very death.

You thought Mori’s recent ‘crowning’ would change your opinion, but it didn’t change it at all. You still hated the place. It was almost as if their only objective was to keep their hands on Yokohama. You wanted more than that, you wanted the whole of Japan to be your turf.

Mori didn’t want that and while he would take the opportunity once presented, he wouldn’t do a thing otherwise. He was perfectly happy with that and you weren’t.

Dazai was the only reason you stayed, but now the reason had been diminishing. You barely spoke and barely hung out. This wasn’t what ‘dating’ was and both of you knew it.

He wanted to try harder and so did you, but with your current situation, you couldn’t. When he wasn’t with Chūya, you were out on a mission. No, you weren’t jealous. This wasn’t Chūya’s fault nor was it something either of you could control. There were various times you debated on breaking up.

Dazai was the only thing holding you back from leaving, so if you broke up you didn’t have to worry about him. But you liked him and both of you would be heartbroken. You never liked thinking about it, but someday, it had to be addressed. That day never came.

The final day you were with the Port Mafia was the day that you had a brush with death.

You’d called for backup, you’d received none. The henchmen you were commanding left like cowards. To think these were the people you’d trained.

One of your big weaknesses was fighting groups of people alone. These henchmen knew that and they’d run. Where were their morals? Where was their faith, their loyalty? Where was their honor, their pride? It was then that you’d learned the Port Mafia wasn’t your place. These people weren’t your people, this turf wasn’t your turf. They were cowards and you were no coward.

Alone and fighting recklessly, you were down. You refused to flee, and that stubbornness was what caused you to nearly die. Luckily, you never crossed death’s doorstep. The people you were fighting presumed you dead the moment you dropped to the ground.

They were fools but a fool you were too to let your emotions get the best of you.

That day somebody had found you on the brisk of death. They claimed to be a spy and they offered to get you help.

Of course, you accept without asking for conditions. You were dying, what else could you have said? The conditions turned out to be joining his organization and feeding them with information or something equally as important.

No longer would you be associated with the Port Mafia. You were glad to leave them. But your only consequence being leaving behind Dazai, the love of your life and the highlight of the day. It was a hard decision to make that was for sure, but it was either this or death.

You felt selfish.

Months after joining them, the so-called ‘Guild’, your heart ached. Leaving Dazai was your biggest mistake but joining the Guild was the best thing that had happened to you since him. For the longest time, you’d wanted to tell him. You never had the guts to. And then you left Japan to join the bigger part of the guild in North America.

In time you’d stopped thinking about Dazai.

The crew was polite, a contrast from the cold lackeys and executives from the Port Mafia. It’s a nice change, one you wish won’t ever change. But maybe the hope of a different life blinds you from how bad these people really are, their underlying motives and morals, their similarities to the Port Mafia executives.

The guild is ambitious, their leader most of all. They have a turf and the turf is way bigger than the Port Mafia’s, something you’re proud about. You certainly feel better about this place than the Port Mafia.

Your sadistic personality never changes either, and while the others are certainly annoyed by it, they handle it in a different way. They make sure you know that you can’t hurt them severely, or there’ll be repercussions. Maybe not repercussions from the Guild’s rules, but them hurting you back. It’s a nice change, one that gets your adrenaline pumping every time you pick a fight.

The only time you did think of him was in your nightmares, the middle of the night. Those nightmares consisted of him calling you a traitor, betrayer, but that wasn’t what hurt you. They played out scenarios of you telling Dazai.

He’d kiss you, hold you tight, ask you where you’d been, question the new stitches and scars… and then you’d tell him.

His face would be ridden with denial. “No. No you couldn’t have! You’re joking, you’re lying!” He laughs, tries to believe it’s a joke, but he can’t get it out of his head that it isn’t.

“It’s not.”

It’s then that he lets out a sob. He trembles, pushes you away from him, looks you in the eye with a look full of betrayal. It’s then that he calls you names, which stated before aren’t what hurts you. It’s how he looks and what he says next that hurts the most, “I thought you loved me.”

That’s when the nightmare ends. You wake up with tears of your own, they’re hot and sting on your cheeks. You furiously wipe them away, but more keep coming.

You sob loudly, which wakes up John and Lucy. They’re the only ones you’ve trusted with your secret, Dazai. They comfort you the best they can but the most they can do is tell you it’s going to be okay or something along those lines. As much as you try to believe them, you can’t.

Dazai becomes a mere figure of your past. You think of him as unreachable, unattainable, as something you should scold yourself for thinking about.

If you could’ve taken him with you, you would’ve.

Learning that you will go back to Japan because of the leader’s obsession with a ‘tiger’ almost breaks you like your ability would.

You hadn’t thought about Dazai nightmares in the past year, but now you remember him again. You begin to regret leaving him, your heart aches again and your nightmares act up again. Everything gets worse when you arrive in Japan.

War breaks out between 3 organizations but the only thing you can think of is the Port Mafia. It’d been 6 years. Could he still remember you?

You don’t care who wins, you just want this whole thing to be over with. It upsets your ‘teammates’, but you don’t care. Once again, you think about leaving the organization, maybe live a normal life. That sort of life feels far-fetched right now and you know it’s something you’ll never have the chance to achieve. But still, you hope for it.

But then you see him again.

The second your eyes land on him you want to run. His eyes land on you and they must look the same as yours.

It hurts, but you have to persevere. “Hey, Lovecraft?” You glance at the man with the strange ability and appearance. “You want to go sleep, right?” You let out a mocking yawn of your own, giving the two in front of you your signature sickly smile.

“Yes.” Lovecraft replies, voice monotone and deep as always.

“Go get John and leave, get to sleep faster.” You nod in the direction you’d seen Chūya knock John towards. Your eyes stayed on the two in front of you. They both act as if they’d never seen you before, which you’re glad for. You don’t know if you could’ve handled seeing the same look Dazai would give you in your nightmares.

“But Francis and... you.” You’d like to think you’d gotten close to Lovecraft, but really he treated everybody the same because of his ‘contract’ with Francis.

“I’ll be fine. I know these guys’ weaknesses, anyway.” He doesn’t question how you do nor does he protest further and leaves immediately. “Quite the reunion, huh?”

“(y/n)..” Chūya growls. He glares at you, something you’d never seen 6 years ago as his senior executive. He never dared to interact with you. He knew he’d be replacing you as Dazai’s partner and knew about your relationship together. If anything, it was out of pity, and that you hated.

“Chūya.” You reply. “How’s the family, the mafia, the kids?” You mock. Chūya all but seethes, he looks like he’s ready to strike.

“(y/n),” Once Lovecraft is gone, Dazai gives you the look you dreaded to see. “H-How--” He doesn’t know what to say and neither do you. Your smile fades, turns into a frown. You don’t want to fight him but you also don’t want him to take on Lovecraft. As much as you liked the guy, he was a nightmare incarnate.

“Dazai.” Is all that you say. The vague response hurts you both.

“Chūya you might want to do that here.”

Chūya looks back at Dazai, shocked and taken aback. “You want me to do that? Dazai, I don’t think that’s needed and you know how shit that makes me feel.” It’s clear he doesn’t want to give into his corruption.

“You shouldn’t underestimate him.” Dazai speaks with experience, and it hurts you to know that he knows that.

“Don’t hurt him too much, we’re dating.”

“You’re still dating?!”

“Technically we never broke up!”

You laugh, staring at the limp body next to you. Chūya is deep asleep, or knocked out, you don’t know. You never really saw the aftermath of his corruption.

“That was a nice fight.” You remark, loud enough for Dazai to hear despite how weak you feel. Chūya had basically broken both your legs and injured you, but at least he hadn’t killed you or put you into a coma. The pain was unbearable for most people, but it was a simple background thought for you.

“It’s been…” Dazai starts.

“6 years.” You finish for him.

“I missed you.” You’re glad to hear that instead of the words from your nightmares, but you’re sure those words will eventually come.

“I did too.”

“You did?”

You sigh, nodding. “There were plenty of errands I had to run around and do for Francis. That rich old guy didn’t do anything himself. I didn’t think much of you, but I never forgot you. I had my own fair share of nightmares about you, they’re all the same.”

Dazai moves you to lean against the bark of a tree. You look into each other’s eyes, and you can tell that his are pleading. “Please stay.”

You ignore his remark, weakly reaching over to feel his coat. “New coat?”

“Yes.” Dazai grumbles, sitting down next to you cross legged. “Answer me.” He pleads again.

“You don’t want to know why I left, first?” Dazai shakes his head, taking your hand in his and squeezing it, prompting a pained groan from you. He quickly apologizes for it.

“I don’t know if I can.” You sigh, rubbing the back of his hand. You were quite touch starved, seeing as you couldn't really hold or touch anything properly. “If Francis wins I’d have to stay with him. If either of you win, I’ll most likely end up in prison.”

“Join me.”

You think back to the Guild. They were inviting and you thought them to be good, but just then did you think about how bad they really were. You’d known all along but you always refused to believe it. You wanted to be there just to escape the Mafia, you never wanted to be there because it was the guild.

“What was it… the Armed Detective Agency?” He nods. “How would that stop me from going to prison?”

“I don’t know.” Dazai admits with a huff. “Just.. please stay.”

“Okay.” You smile at him. Dazai remembers that smile, it’s burned into his memory and he takes note of how it hasn’t changed a bit. He’s missed it ever since you left. “Would they accept me, though?”

“They will, they will.” He says it as if he were determined, but he knows there’s a high chance they’ll refuse.

Dazai pulls you into a much deserved kiss. Long, gentle, sweet, and full of fireworks, it’s almost like your first. The only thing is it’s a little weak on your end, but he can’t blame you.

“Not going to mention sucide?”

“I haven’t seen you in 6 years, at least let me cherish this for another 2 months.”

#anonymousrequest #dazai osamu x reader #dazai osamu x male reader #dazai x reader #dazai x male reader #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs x male reader #bsd x male reader #angst fic #bsd angst

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fllagellant · 2 years ago

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49 and 43 for cycii and urien :D

:D!!!

43. Which version of the Normandy do they like best? For Urien, I feel like he's very much a 'I like the classics' kind of man. The original SR1 felt like it was built with closeness in mind, and it wasn't hard to navigate and talk to everyone quickly. It was also the first ship he'd ever served on by choice, not being forced into the assignment by the alliance. It was his first attempt at freedom- or, as free as he could get- and it was a success! The SR2, both when it was owned by Cerberus and when it was recaptured by the Alliance, lost that connection. Both times, he wasn't given a choice of "Which ship will I command?" it was handed to him, without the option to say no. It also lost that sense of closeness the original had. Even after the retrofits, it didn't feel like the Normandy he chose. It didn't help that both added a lot of extra hunting to try and locate people he wanted/needed to talk to. It's embarrassing getting lost on the ship you command. For Cycii, he leans towards the SR2 while it was owned by Cerberus. He hates Cerberus as much as he hates the Alliance, but the SR2 helped him, strangely. The SR1 felt...off. He couldn't name why, but he never liked being on it for too long. He sorta thinks it was because of the silence of the ship, also the limited spaces for people to be. This limiting of space also applied to the SR2 while it was under the Alliance brand. They removed certain areas and crammed things into smaller spaces. The openness of the Cerberus design is something he preferred. He needs places he can go and just be alone, or removed from others without having to go to his quarters. He also admits that a majority of his growth as a person and his healing happened while on the Cerberus owned SR2. Strange, considering that he does view his work with Cerberus the worst part of his life. He had a lot of emotional connection to the Armoury, specifically. So having that gone definitely was a kick in the teeth when he was reinstated

49. What is Shepard’s happy ending? What’s the dream that keeps em going Urien!!! Wants!!! To!!! Go!!! Back!!! To!!! Earth!!! He wants to see Manitoba, he wants to see The Rocky Mountains, he wants to see Niagara Falls! He forever loathes the Alliance for taking him away from home and raising him off Earth, he was supposed to learn and grow in the fields of Manitoba. His childhood snack should have been pemmican, not MREs. There were so many things he was robbed of and so many things he wishes to give to himself. He lives for him, for the child in him. The child that spoke Michif to the Alliance Representatives and Sargents when they would question him. The child that used his rare free time on the extranet watching recordings of Powwows on Earth. The child that still counts the days until he's home. The child that stares out ships windows, watching, waiting. Waiting for Earth to come back into view and see Turtle Island again. Waiting for him to come home too. He dreams of the reunion. Cycii has a hard time picturing the future. He can only answer in vague statements when asked things like "Where do you see yourself in five years?" Not from a lack of wanting to see the future, it just seems impossible to picture himself in it. Things get blurry when he tries to think about the next week. For a long time, this issue made it hard for him to think of an ending, a dream, a finale. Even after healing himself, even after settling into a relationship, the future seemed so impossible to picture. So, he made it easy. His happy ending is greeting the next day. And the day after that. He just needs to live on, to welcome the new days and accept the past days. That's all he works for. And it pushes him forward. Everyday he makes it to his ending, and everyday he works toward it again.

#mass effect #oc tags #urien deere #the reanimated #cycii durand #cycii shepard durand #the banshee #TYSM BRYYY EEP #my blorbos #<333333

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imagine-darksiders · 4 years ago

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Just like. Head canons. For our lovely Dad Guys. Whoever you want. Whatever you want. I don’t care. Just. The Fluff Beast. 😫 Getting too strong...! Help! (I’m sorry 😂 Seriously, just do whatever you want. It’ll be beautiful and I’ll love it regardless)

Well, I’ve had this little Eidad fic on the back burner for a while now, sitting in my drafts and not doing a while lot. This seems like a good time to post it <3 <3 <3

It’s a sick fic. Nothing too drastic, just an old maker getting worried about his human friend.

---

Eideard has always been an especially unflappable maker, a trait that tends to come with the territory of being the village elder.

He never gets flustered, and he always maintains the poise and composure expected of him.

Unless, of course, one of his fellow makers is under threat. Only then, by his own admission, does decorum fly out of the proverbial window and little else but worry takes over him, mind, body and soul.

Recently, he's come to discover that the same rule applies to a very specific, little human.

----

“I'm cold.”

That ought to have been their first clue.

You're sitting in the maker's forge, seemingly content to remain still and quiet beside the roaring fire whilst Alya and her brother, Valus, are hard at work at their anvil.

“Cold?” the former twin laughs incredulously, glancing up from the sword she's forging to turn and fix you with a raised brow, “You're sittin' close enough to that fire!”

Her brother though, always the more perceptive of the siblings, ambles around her and makes his way towards you, tugging at the green cowl that sits around his neck. You may be vastly smaller than him, but even behind that visor, he can see the shivers you're trying to suppress. Blinking, you watch him as he bends onto one knee in front of you and holds his treasured garment out, uttering a low, almost undetectable whine.

“I'm okay, big guy,” you murmur, sounding far from it, “Think I've just got a bit of a chill.”

At that, Valus doesn't wait for you to reach up and take the cowl from his grasp and instead, with a huff, he leans forward to drape it around your shoulders, his thick fingers tucking it up underneath you as carefully as he can. Once he's finished, he sits back on his haunches to inspect you, satisfied when you snuggle further into the fabric and give him a shy smile.

“Thanks.”

Pacified, the burly maker returns your smile with a nod and pushes himself onto his feet, turning back to his sister and the anvil.

With their attention elsewhere, you allow your smile to fade, burying your face into Valus's scarf.

You're loathe to tell them the whole truth, that accompanying your chills is a raw throat that feels as though it's been rubbed tender by sandpaper, and an ache in your limbs that only grows worse and worse by the hour.

There's no denying it.

You've come down with something.

At the very least, the makers don't know a lot about human biology, so you're relatively hopeful that you'll be able to pass this off as a mundane occurrence – definitely not anything they should be worrying about.

There is an unspoken rule amongst the giants, one that came about the moment they first laid eyes on you – a small, cowering little thing whose world had been destroyed only a few days prior.

The rule, never spoken aloud, yet understood by all, is that you are a youngling – despite your insistence to the contrary – and younglings are to be protected, especially those who have yet to reach their first century of life.

It also doesn't help that you're a human, and consequently only stand about as high as the makers' knees.

But for as endeared to you as they all are, there are none who are quite so taken as Eideard.

The village Shaman, Muria, speculates that their elder has seen more younglings and friends die off over the centuries than any of them, and thusly, that's where his protective tendencies stem from.

Thane, on the other hand, attests that Eideard has always been enormously tender-hearted, long before grief softened his edges.

If he were to find out that you're sick, you can't imagine he'd take it well.

Bottom line? You'd hate to worry him.

Unfortunately for you, there are some things that can't be kept from a group of watchful makers.

It's impossible to hide glassy eyes, tremors that rattle your whole body and a sudden, explosive sneeze that causes both Alya and Valus to jump out their skin, tools clattering to the stony ground.

“Stone's blood! Bit of warnin' before you go makin' noises like that, please!” Alya exclaims, resting a hand over her heart whilst Valus hurries over to you again.

“It was just a sneeze,” you try to protest, but the forge brother isn't buying it. Without a word, which isn't unusual, he clenches his fists and heaves himself about on a heel, marching purposefully towards the forge's entrance, deaf to his sister calling after him.

“Oi, Valus? Where are you off to?”

It's hardly a surprise that she doesn't get a response.

He disappears through the doors and you share a look with his sister, who hesitantly asks, “You.. sure you're okay?”

The fake smile you plaster on your face is apparently as unconvincing as it feels, judging by the flat look you receive from Alya in response.

A few moments later, the doors swing open once again and your ears pick up two pairs of resounding footsteps thumping through the forge.

Valus appears first, lumbering up the short flight of steps onto the raised dais where he's soon followed by the second maker, a particularly concerned-looking Eideard.

As soon as the elder's pale, grey eyes lock onto you, you slump forwards in defeat, any hope of riding this illness out in privacy now dashed. Of all the makers in Tri Stone, Eideard is the most well-versed in anthropology.

Shooting Valus a glare for his betrayal, you swallow your cough and groan, “Valus, I told you, I’m okay. You didn't need to bother Eideard.”

“I for one, am very glad he did.” From underneath his bushy, furrowed brows, the old maker studies you closely until you duck your head, weighed down by the heaviness of his stare, the whole while, your throat burns with the need to cough. Then, in a blink, his eyes widen again and the fingers clutched around his golden staff turn white as he breathes, “You're sick...”

At once, Alya shoots upright from where she'd been leaning casually against the anvil. “Sick!?” she blurts, her gaze snapping between you and her elder, “Why didn't you say somethin'?!”

“Because!” you argue, hating that Eideard’s face now appears almost twice its age thanks to the worry lines permeating his forehead, “It's not a big de-” As fate would have it, the raw spot at the back of your throat finally chooses its moment, and before you can stop yourself, you're lurching forwards into a vicious cough that burns at the tenderness like acid, bringing tears to your eyes and shame onto your clammy cheeks.

You become vaguely aware of a vast hand coming to rest on your back and fingers that pat you gently until you can catch your breath. Even after you've hacked yourself silly, you push Eideard's silken, blue sleeve away and try to get to your feet, hoping that if they see you standing, they'll be less inclined to fret. But the moment you begin to move, the same hand is cupping around your trembling body and you find yourself being lifted up and nestled against a broad chest by a maker who is wholly undeterred by your feeble resistance.

“I'm not a baby, Eideard!” you complain, trying to wriggle free as the maker presses delicately on your chest, forcing you to lay across his forearm, “Put me down! I can walk just fine.”

“Easy, now. You'll only hurt yourself further if you keep that up,” he rumbles in a tone that's far too gentle for your pride to withstand.

Embarrassed, you wilt down behind his fingers when you hear Alya's stifled giggles, but the old maker doesn't pay her any mind, simply turns away from the anvil and begins to shuffle down the steps, heading for the entrance. Almost immediately, you miss the fire's warmth and Eideard feels your shivers turn violent, his heart seizing at the sound of your teeth chattering together like rapid gunfire.

“You – you're not going outside, are you?” you croak, pulling Valus's cowl up to your neck, “It's freezing!”

“The weather is perfectly mild. You, on the other hand, are burning hotter than forge-fire.”

You open your mouth to protest but find yourself cut off when he continues, “I’ll not have this sickness turning into something worse. We may belong to separate species, but I wasn't born yesterday. A little fresh air will do you some good.”

“Ugh. You sound like my mum.”

His reply comes in the form of an affectionate, rumbling chuckle that you can feel travelling up through his palm and into your bones. Letting out a final huff, you flop backwards and turn limp in his hand.

It isn’t as though you can fight your way out of the Old One's grip, after all. For such an ancient maker, Eideard is powerful, and his age does little to detract from that strength. The meagre resistance you put up is also proven ineffective by the silken softness of the fur trim on his sleeves that you run between your fingers.

Perhaps if you'd been looking at Eideard's expression instead of the doors as he pushes them open, you'd take notice of the disquiet lingering at the edge of his eyes.

He plans on taking you to see Muria in the hopes that she might have a remedy that can alleviate the fever spreading through your delicate body, and, failing that, he will sit with you in the peace of the night air and keep you still and safe until your tremors cease and his old heart stops trying to beat its way out of his ribcage.

You're more than welcome to resent him for this, he muses quietly, but after seeing so many of his people lost to corruption, it isn't such an easy feat to quell the pervasive anxiety that writhes like an impatient, snarling beast in his stomach, and he would much rather endure your resentment if it means keeping you out of harm’s way.

The village elder is supposed to protect his own, and glancing down at you and seeing that you've buried your face into the fabric of his robe to escape the cold, Eideard realises with a sudden surge of paternal drive, that you fall under the scope of those he considers 'his.'

The old maker clutches you possessively against his chest and hurries as well as his tired legs can carry him up towards the Shaman's gazebo, knowing that his soul will never know peace until you’re well once again.

#darksiders #darksiders 2 #Eideard #Eidad #super rushed #sorry #Sick fic #reader #g/t

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