#No. But both choices do speak of the physicality of the character. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 3 months ago

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FIREFLIES NEVER CAME ; SATORU GOJO

synopsis; your seat is close to the heater. that’s the only reason gojo comes there to warm up.

word count; 4.2k

contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, teen!satoru, set in a canon au, mutual pining, fluff, a little bittersweet (melancholic winter vibes <3), introvert/extrovert, reader is antisocial and dense as a brick (black cat vibes :3), also kind of self-deprecating, satoru is very shoujo manga coded, just lots of puppy love!! feat. wingman!suguru <3

a/n; this wasn’t meant to be a fic …… it was gonna be really short and sweet ……… (T_T) anyway i am very fond of this reader/character dynamic so i hope you enjoy reading abt my emotionally stunted kids 🫶 biggest mwah in the world dedicated to professor logan (@staryukis) for teaching me about physics so i could find a loophole in satoru’s infinity :3c all for the sake of lore-accurate (kinda) fluff <3

”what are you listening to?”

your seat is close to the heater.

it was nothing but a lucky draw, really. yaga-sensei was organizing the desks when you transferred, and so he gave you the first choice; one you had no trouble making, latching on to the chair in the very back, right by the window, right by the sole heater of the room. vital for surviving your chilly winter classes.

so there you sit. a warmth sneaks through your fuzzy socks, tends to your restless legs. your feet tap and tap, on the cold floorboards, in rhythm with your never-ending thoughts, spinning like a planet in orbit.

through the fogged-up, frosted glass of the window to your left, you observe the world. headphones covering your ears, safe and snug, muffling all noise. you watch as snow falls, wholly entranced, eyes stuck on the icy snowflakes descending from the wool-gray sky — blanketing the frostbitten landscape of the courtyard. it’s pretty, all those skeletal trees, glittering and gleaming like they have something to say. sometimes they look like stars.

”… hey. did you hear me?”

gojo is being particularly chatty, today.

out of the corner of your eye, you see him wave his hand right in front of your face. you’re almost certain he doesn’t realize that it’s rude; he must be used to all eyes being on him, from the moment he speaks.

with a flutter of your lashes, you lift your weary head. meeting his gaze, the blurry shine of your own visage, reflected in his circle-frame glasses. a soft tilt of his head, and then his lips are twitching upwards, just barely, snowy strands gliding across his forehead and falling over his face. like an excited puppy.

”what are you listening to?”

you read the words off his lips, all sound muffled by your headphones. quick to lift one of your hands, pulling one of the heavy ear cushions away — letting all white noise in the room flood your senses. the snarls of the wind outside, ieiri’s laughter, the scribbling of geto’s pen against paper.

it’s overwhelming, but a small price to pay. his voice is softer than usual, during moments like these; there’s a pleasant lull to it.

gojo tips his head to the right, still awaiting your response. all you can do is stare, watching your own reflection, fingers gripping onto the edge of your desk. as if seeking to ground yourself.

with a spoonful of hesitance, you part your lips.

”… do you like music?”

the words seep out into the air, a softly exhaled breath. gojo watches you, silently, for just a moment.

then he gives you a shrug.

”i guess?” he hums, shifting his weight from one foot to another — hand slipping into the pocket of his uniform. ”that’s more suguru’s thing.”

ah.

your mouth forms around the syllable, as if responding, but not making any sound. gaze fleeing from his glasses, crumbling under their weight, straying towards the frosted window to your left. safe, familiar, rotting trees and twitching branches. snow just as pure as the boy in front of you.

silence overtakes you both, once more.

”... not gonna answer?” he asks, with another tilt of his head, absently rocking side to side as he lets out an exhale. ”is it a secret, or something?”

(it is, you think. but you can’t say it out loud.)

before you can part your lips again, the classroom door slides open — and you know it’s yaga-sensei just by the way his feet hit the floorboards, the decisive weight behind every step. you know even before he’s telling you to get back to your seats.

on cue, gojo stands up straighter, shooting you another glance. bright-eyed, easy-going, every star in the sky leaping out from the glimpse you get of his eyes when he angles his body. two blue pools, flecked with white, like frozen puddles in the street.

and then he’s strolling away.

gojo leaves, and you take off your headphones; stretching your legs underneath the desk. reaching for your ballpoint pencil, flipping open your textbook, and indulging in sleepy blinks, as yaga begins to drone on and on. you stifle a yawn with the sleeve of your blazer, resting your jaw on the heel of your palm. eyes inevitably straying towards a head of white hair.

but your name is called before you can get lost in your daydreams.

”page 27, from the top.”

your chair scrapes against the floorboards, as you sluggishly stand up. holding onto your textbook, flipping the pages until you land on the correct passage. with shaky hands, not enough to notice, you read out loud; voice controlled, almost monotone. all you can think is that you feel his frost-clad eyes on you, from the row straight ahead.

but you continue to speak. you speak until you reach the end of the page, until you’re allowed to take your seat again, happy to feel the warmth of the heater radiate against your legs. it’s this warmth that’s important, the most important thing of all.

without it, gojo wouldn’t bother to stop by your desk.

nearly every recess, as soon as yaga leaves the classroom, he’s waltzing over — leaning against the wall, stretching his arms out, purring contentedly as heat spreads throughout his body. you think he must run cold. chatting with you, just to pass the time, just until your teacher comes back. just to warm up.

then he’s leaving, again.

that’s all it is. a cold boy, and a heater by your desk — a conversation that otherwise wouldn’t have occured. even the strongest is vulnerable to changes in temperature, you suppose.

though if warmth is all that binds him to you, it’s bound to dwindle away.

(you’re sure he’ll stop as soon as spring comes.)

the next day, gojo is nowhere to be seen. you saw yaga-sensei drag him out of the classroom this morning; something about a clan meeting, something you weren’t paying attention to.

but now you wish you had.

(it’s quiet, without him around. eerily so.)

with nothing to lose, and nothing else to do — you push your chair away from your desk, and walk up to your classmate, a question on your mind.

”… music? are you looking for recommendations?”

you nod.

geto blinks. caught off guard, you’re sure, surprised that you’d approach him without any prior coaxing. he’s usually the one striking up a conversation with you, like a responsible class president, making sure the weird kid doesn’t feel left out. you’re almost certain he doesn’t realize that it’s patronizing.

”hmm... well, that depends.” he gives you a smile, soft around the edges. it never feels as genuine as gojo’s, but it’s calming. ”what kind of music do you usually listen to?”

…

you glance down at the floor. bundling up the cuffs of your uniform, fingers clawing softly at the fabric, bottom lip trapped between two sets of teeth.

”… what kind of music does gojo like?”

silence. your words are barely spoken, just above a whisper, just like always, but geto picks up on them anyway. you can tell he does, can feel the weight of his keen eyes on your face. analytical.

then he parts his lips.

”… ohhh.” a low hum, ripe with meaning, buzzing at the bottom of his throat. the corners of his lips quirk up into a knowing smile. ”i see.”

heat rushes to your cheeks, blossoms under your skin. if he notices, he’s even more composed than you thought he was, because he doesn’t mention it. only continues to speak, in that soothing voice, crossing his arms in silent thought.

”hmm…” you follow his gaze, out towards the window, the same webs of frost as always. it’s not snowing, but you still can’t see the blue of the sky. ”i’ve never seen him listen to music before, so i wouldn’t know.”

you can’t help but deflate, at that.

geto only smiles. exhaling, through his nose, mildly humoured — though he’s good at hiding his amusement. ”… what do you think that means?”

a blink. your lashes flutter, as you gaze up at him.

”… huh?”

”satoru doesn’t listen to music, but he wants to know what you’re listening to.” he says the words almost coachingly, like he’s listing off a string of numbers. you realize he must have been listening in on your conversation, but it doesn’t bother you nearly as much as his tone. ”what do you think that means?”

…

(you haven’t got a clue.)

geto lets out a chuckle, laced with mirth, no longer trying to hide it. paired with a soft shake of his head, a crinkle to the corners of his eyes. ”why do you want to know about his taste in music, then?”

(… that’s a good question.)

he seems to notice your hesitance, your apprehension, the way your teeth seek to trap your bottom lip; always the victim of your muddled mind. you know the answer, of course you do — but it isn’t something you want others knowing.

thankfully, geto breaks the silence for you.

”i don’t think you need to try so hard, when it comes to him.” his voice is soft, almost sincere, something warmer than usual. glancing away when you meet his eyes. ”… he isn’t worth the effort, anyway.”

but that’s where he’s wrong.

satoru gojo is a special case. a special person. in the orbit of your life, there’s no star you’d rather keep — no one quite as ripe with colour.

geto couldn’t possibly understand, because gojo is always with him — always orbiting around him. he always will, until you graduate, probably even beyond that. geto has him. they’re the strongest, a pair, always matching their steps to one another. but you only have these quiet days, these chilly classes in between never-ending missions — and that’s all.

when the frost outside the window thaws, gojo will surely stop visiting your desk. your lonely little world.

that’s exactly why — you need to find a song. if you just teach him about something wonderful enough, if you can give him something other than warmth…

(… maybe he’ll stay with you even after spring comes.)

”next time, why don’t you say what’s on your mind?”

geto’s suggestion breaks you out of your thoughts. when you raise your head, to meet the warm pools of amber in his eyes, he gives you a smile. there’s nothing patronizing about the way he’s looking at you now — if anything, you think it may even be slightly fond, but you can never tell what he’s actually feeling. he’s frightening, like that, always a mirror to his circumstances. a chameleon, tilting his head at you.

… though you can’t help but fall victim to the kindness in his eyes. the velveteen purr of his voice.

”i’m sure he’ll appreciate that.”

a nervous pit opens up in your chest, an empty space that gnaws incessantly at your heart. will he?, you want to ask, but it feels like the words are made out of lead. you can’t get them out of your throat.

”… okay,” is all you end up whispering, a soft lull of your tongue. ”i’ll try… thank you.”

geto rewards you with a full smile.

”don’t mention it.”

spring is closer than you thought.

it’s all you can think, when you step onto the pavement, when you feel the morning air gnaw at your frostbitten cheeks. it’s freezing, it’s winter, but the signs of changing seasons are still there — a lonesome snowdrop, the crackle of an icy puddle beneath your feet. the frost is beginning to thaw.

in a month or so, spring will be here — there’s no stopping it.

”did you bring your card?”

your headphones rest around your neck, allowing you to listen in on your classmates' conversation. all four of you are together, for once, all first-years, walking towards the nearest konbini — at gojo’s insistence.

it’s been a week since you had that talk with geto, but you still haven’t made any progress with him.

”huh? was i supposed to?”

”… are you kidding me?”

you glance up at the pair. always walking just a little bit ahead, their tall statures obscuring the view in front of you; shoko lags behind, with lazy steps, a trail of tobacco drifting out into the crispy air. all while snowflakes fall from the sky, gently, landing in your hair, on your shoulders, melting on the inside of your palm when you hold it out to catch them. watching as they turn into droplets of water, slip through the gaps between your fingers.

someone taps your shoulder.

geto has snowflakes stuck in his hair. they’re melting, in the strands of ink-black framing his face, matching the colour of the thick polo jacket he’s wearing. a bright red scarf is tied around his throat, and there’s a weighty look in his eyes — something telling.

a silent cue.

he falls back, slowly but surely, into ieiri’s lazy pace. not before murmuring something unintelligible to gojo, and shooting you a wink — one that makes you frown, confused, a low heat blooming at the base of your spine and crawling up your neck.

and then you realize what he’s done.

gojo is looking right at you, through the black glass of his specs. only wearing a baseball jacket, no gloves or scarves to keep him warm, despite the harsh bite of the open air. for a guy who runs cold, he must not put much thought into his clothing.

more importantly…

it’s just the two of you, now.

you blink at him, silent as a mouse. it only takes a moment for him to start moving, for you to follow, taking your place beside him while staring right ahead. if he’s bothered by geto slinking away, he doesn’t show it — only continues to walk.

”… that’s so unfair.”

gojo’s voice breaks the silence. you turn your head to gaze at him, the way his lips wrap around the vowels, haphazardly hanging onto every word he speaks.

”just ’cause i have clan money,” he kicks at a pebble on the side of the road, wisps of white hair swaying with a shake of his head, ”suguru thinks i should pay for our snacks. isn’t that unfair?”

you hesitate. then you nod along, absently.

he seems to take that as a yes, because it makes him brighten — as if gleaming with your approval, standing a little straighter, puffing out his chest with an exhale that turns into white smoke.

”right? they only give it to me because they want me to come back to kyoto, anyway…” he trails off, holding the tip of his tongue between his lips. ”… not that it matters. anyway, i just think he’s oppressive.”

”… mm.”

from this angle, you can see a sliver of his eyes. can see the way he steals a glance at you, without even turning his head — hands slipping into his pockets. there’s a moment of silence, until he’s parting his lips again.

”… i can buy some for you, though.”

(you barely pick up on the words, spoken almost in a whisper — as if an afterthought.)

he clears his throat.

”… if you don’t have the money, i mean.”

you can’t help but blink, at that — lashes fluttering in rapid succession, wondering if you heard him correctly. he doesn’t seem keen on elaborating, though. walking on, ignoring all snowflakes descending from the sky, eager to nuzzle in between his locks. his infinity keeps them out.

”… why?”

it’s all you can say. all you can verbalize.

(in a story like this, why would the brightest star of all orbit around someone like you?)

gojo gives you another glance. his iris cuts into your skin, observes you on what you’re sure must be a molecular level. he lets silence linger, for a moment, tipping his head back to look up at the sky.

gray, and more gray. flecks of white. you’d see the same thing he does.

”hmm…” he lets out a breath, head falling forward again, snowy strands ghosting against the skin of his forehead. ”let’s call it a trade.”

another series of blinks.

gojo turns towards you, then — a fresh grin blooming on his lips. white teeth, pink gums. it makes him look boyish, innocent, just another city boy with too much time on his hands.

”i buy you snacks — and you tell me what music you’re always listening to.” he bends his body forward, tilts his head at the same time, all lanky and charming, like a big cat. ”deal?”

you stay silent.

he’s looking at your headphones, still left neglected around your neck. your gaze falls down to the icy concrete, the thin layer of frost, waiting to be melted by the first sunrays of spring. whenever that will be.

geto and shoko are still behind you — you can hear their low, muffled chatter, smell the remnants of tobacco in the air. and you swear you can practically hear geto’s words, echoing through your head.

(why do you think that is?)

gojo is still looking at you. expectantly, lips curled up into a lazy smile. he’s waiting, you know he is, and you also know he isn’t very good at that. you know a lot of things — what you don’t know is what to say. you don’t know if you can believe in whatever geto was insinuating, don’t know if you can grapple with your own longing to do so.

(next time, why don’t you say what’s on your mind?)

geto doesn’t get it. he doesn’t know what your feelings towards gojo truly look like. doesn’t know that what’s on your mind when he’s around is always something horrifically embarrassing. something like, i want to know more about you, or maybe i wish i could tell you more about me. something awfully cheesy, like — i’m jealous of how bright you shine, but i can’t help but like you anyway.

if i become your friend, would it be okay to say i understand your loneliness? that i notice it, even just by a fraction?

would that be okay with you?

(words that should be left unspoken.)

”… well, it’s not like you have to.” gojo exhales, again, the words a heavy weight seeping past his throat. his shoulders slump, as he turns forward, fingers trailing up to scratch at the back of his neck.

all you can think is that he’s getting ready to leave. that nothing will change, at this rate, that spring will wash winter away. that geto should be more direct with his advice, and that if it’s not the music itself that gojo is interested in knowing more about, then surely —

” — i don’t listen to anything.”

gojo stills. the words have flown past your lips before you can reach out and grasp them, slicing through the open air.

he spins around, glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose at the sudden motion, exposing his widened eyes. those white lashes, fluttering softly, like a pair of doves eager to get above ground. you grip onto the insides of your pockets, warm and cozy against your freezing hands — it grounds you, keeps you tethered down to earth, down to him.

”music,” you continue, sputtering slightly, as if your lungs don’t quite know how to work under pressure. winter air seeps into your windpipe, cuts the skin there. ”i don’t listen to music.”

you lift your hands, fingers curling around the soft earmuffs wrapped around your neck, hesitantly meeting gojo’s gaze — an overlapping sequence, blanketing his view. then you’re gazing down.

”it’s just… comforting,” you try to explain, speaking softly. ”to wear them. white noise.. tires me out, so…”

the sentence trails off, unfinished. you feel silly. silly for saying anything at all, for building it up so much. silly for being the way that you are.

but when you look up at gojo, he’s brightened like a star.

white teeth, pink gums, that breathtakingly boyish grin. his blue eyes gleam with colour, almost spilling over the corners, like watercolour paint on a too-small canvas. he tilts his head, looking at you carefully, as if truly seeing you for the first time; absently swaying side to side.

if he had a tail, you’re sure it’d be wagging.

”i see!”

a silent breath spills into the air. your lips part, but no sound comes out, only vapour; heart pumping blood through your writhing veins, warming you up from the inside, a co-conspirator to the heat blooming in your cheeks. gojo continues to speak.

”i guess that counts,” he nods, crossing his arms with a satisfied hum. ”alright. i’ll get you any snacks you want! you can be greedy, it’s okay.”

a murmur of thanks escapes you, although you’d like to tell him there’s no need. something tells you denying him this would be like taking another step backwards, in this budding connection between you.

(… if you can even call it that.)

geto and ieiri catch up to your unmoving figures, finally, and only then does gojo spin on his heel and pick up his previous pace. calling back to you over his shoulder, a smile you can’t see but still hear.

”just don’t give any of it to those two, yeah?”

”cheapskate,” ieiri calls back, lone cigarette hanging between her lips. geto lets out something like a chuckle, his shoulder brushing up against yours.

you watch gojo’s back as he moves forward. unbothered, untethered. you think of him a snowflake in the breeze.

spring is almost here, now. it’s a bittersweet feeling, to know your conversations during recess will surely dwindle out — but at least you’ll have had this. one normal conversation, the knowledge that he was curious about you, even if you may just be the classmate by the heater in his eyes.

you’re too cold to keep him warm all on your own, so there’s no helping it. you’re willing to accept that some stars only show from the surface during winter.

you’re willing to accept this. it aches, a little, but you’ll be okay.

”i’ll take it things went well, then?”

geto is wearing his signature smile, when you look up at him. an expression of carefully concealed composure, lips curled up, but a knowing look in his eyes — something that borders on teasing.

you give him a nod, a bow of your head, to silently convey your appreciation. chameleon or not, you don’t really mind his ways. it’s hard to fake the warmth in his voice, when he speaks.

”i’m glad.”

the two of you watch gojo’s back, like birds gazing out at a body of water. silence lingers.

”won’t that moron get cold?”

ieiri’s voice cuts through the mold of your mind, low and gravelly, right beside you. she’s pointing towards gojo — the flimsy jacket he’s wearing.

you’re wondering the same thing.

geto casts her a glance over your head, before gazing down at you, seemingly noticing your curiosity. he lets out a low hum; reaching a hand out to brush away the snowflakes on his shoulders.

”temperature,” he begins, slipping his hands into his pockets; that familiar coaching tone to his voice, purposefully slow. ”is just a measure of atoms in rapid motion.”

you tilt your head, in tandem with ieiri — looking to your classmate for further elaboration. he seems to enjoy your confusion, lips curling up just a bit. gojo calls out to you, in the distance, waving both his hands, and geto returns it with a wave of his own.

an amber eye flicks towards you, an explanation on his tongue. ”his infinity can regulate that motion.”

… another tilt of your head.

geto lets out an amused breath. it scatters out into the air, a cloud of smoke, almost a chuckle.

”basically…” he sighs. ”he does just fine, in the cold. don’t worry about it. he’ll keep himself warm.”

ieiri mutters something, beneath her breath, something like you could have just said no, but you don’t really hear it. you think your heart must have climbed up, somehow; got caught in your windpipe.

ah.

gojo can keep himself warm.

the thought spins inside your mind, over and over, a realization that makes your inner palms feel clammy. stupid, silly, this pitter-patter of your heartbeat. but what else could it mean? if the cold doesn’t bother him, if he doesn’t run cold, then…

(he wouldn’t need it. he wouldn’t need it here, wouldn’t need it during recess, within the chilly walls of your classroom. he wouldn’t need it to stay warm.

gojo isn’t after your heater. if that’s true, then…)

…

you bury your nose in the soft wool of your scarf. breathing in the fading scent, vanilla and cinnamon, grounding you to earth, lingering in your nostrils. distracting you from the rush of warmth, that blooms in the frostbitten apples of your cheeks.

as if sensing your thoughts, or maybe just noticing your embarrassed expression, geto laughs — soft and breathy, shoulders shaking to your left. you hear it, only nuzzling deeper into the comfort of your scarf. feeling your heartbeat spin out of orbit.

in the distance, gojo continues to wave, yelling out something unintelligible. you could mistake him for a star.

spring is almost here, now. in just a month or so, it’ll be at your doorstep — waltzing right in.

(but you aren’t worried.)

#gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x reader #jjk x you #gojo fluff #jjk fluff

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yusiyomogi · 18 days ago

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i think that kui portrayed kabru's mental health issues in a very interesting way, but it's what makes it subtle to some readers. the fact that he seems so functional to the readers, especially in the first few appearances, not to mention that a lot of his problems and symptoms are not obvious and can only be seen in additional materials, seems like an intended choice from the character writing perspective.

the way kui constructs his character centers around the idea of duality. he switches between two "faces" in the story constantly, he uses two speaking styles (and two pronouns indicating them), he's a tallman who lived with elves for a long time and carries both cultures, he's caught in the conflict between long-lived and short-lived races, he's constantly stuck between two choices in his inner conflicts (what to think of laios? should he prioritize preventing another tragedy or taking away power from long-lived races?), he's bisexual. kui also made him a gemini, yknow, a zodiac sign associated with twins and duality.

there's a certain theme in this and it does affect the way we interpret his personality and choices and it goes beyond text, it's metatextual too. it's a sway between what's hidden and what's shown to the readers about him.

the thing is, i think his mental health issues are meant to be downplayed and hidden, because it's true to his character. what do we notice about him in the main story and what's hidden? well, one of the first things we see is that he's not great at fighting monsters, he suffers from ptsd that makes him basically freeze up just from thinking about them. images of dead people turning into monsters, tearing each other apart and eating each other haunt him, making him feel ill from monster food. he downplays this a lot, hides it from other characters, straight-up lies about it, but at least readers got to see it.

with a keen eye you might notice that he doesn't eat enough food, almost never eats anything on-screen. he mentions that he's never cooked food in his life: wait, kabru, don't you live alone? in that sense "don't you wanna eat?" moment reveals two details of kabru's character at once: we got to see his aversion from monster food related to ptsd, but also his inability to notice his own hunger in general. he's strong and he almost always wears armor, but we know that he often dies in the dungeon. the armor hides that he's pretty scrawny for someone who fights physically, again, something that we can only notice after he takes off his armor (symbolism!).

funnily enough, here we have our first glance at this through additional materials: in the info page about the importance of calories and fat, kui mentions that kabru has lost a lot of weight since he started exploring the dungeon, because he died a lot. what it means is that he doesn't eat enough to cover the loss of weight. subtle, but clever detail.

speaking of him not knowing how to cook, this is another clever detail that hides bigger truth: kabru doesn't know how to do chores, he doesn't take proper care of himself. extra materials reveal to us that kabru lives in the basement, lacking light and clean air and he doesn't know how to clean his room or how to iron clothes and simply... never cared to learn? this is mostly omitted from the main story, even if it does have a place for it: for example, his journey with mithrun becomes infinitely more fascinating, when you know how little kabru cares about himself. but since those chapters are told through kabru's pov, he basically "hides" this from the reader, takes control of the narrative in the same way he tells a polished version of his tragic backstory.

he talks about mithrun's story like there's no connection, like he's not literally looking at the dark mirror of himself. and, ironically, he chooses to not be vulnerable in front of the readers just like young mithrun wouldn't. extra materials give us a glimpse again: when in the main story mithrun said "i can't fall asleep without spell or potion", in the extra comic (literally behind the scenes) kabru says "i use alcohol to help me fall asleep". there's a connection and kabru sees it, but he's not telling it to us. (and yes. there's evidence that kabru is an early-stage alcoholic. we can see bottles under his bed and what he says basically imply that he depends on alcohol: he's not using it for recreational purposes, he's using it as a substance to make himself sleepy and, probably, less anxious. when that dependence turns uncontrolled, it often leads to full-blown alcoholism).

bigger connection to mithrun is of course kabru's refusal to accept his own humanity, to see that he's alive, that he has his own needs and desires. he's suicidal in the same way: he can only see his goal, he doesn't care about his life, he only sees the value of his life in relation to that goal and he never think what's gonna happen to him after he reaches this goal (because he unconsciously believes that "the after" wouldn't happen to him). and he doesn't reflect on it, again, until he's met with a question "what do you want to do?". the way he doesn't see himself as alive is omitted again in the big portion of the story and only really comes up in the end, when he asks "what was the point of my survival?", in a basically joking moment.

but we can see it through the symbolism, through his connection to death in the story, through his eagerness to sacrifice his life for the idealistic goal in his mind. and of course, we can see it clearly through his mirror: there's a strong parallel between kabru almost committing double suicide while chasing his goals and mithrun literally getting himself killed while chasing his own.

what i'm trying to say, it's interesting that kabru uses his control of the narrative to hide his own vulnerability from the readers. maybe mithrun sees himself as leftovers and it's something cathartic for him to admit in the end, but kabru really doesn't want you to see that he feels the same way. that he's also "leftovers". but you see, they are standing together in that panel. as kabru continues to try shielding himself from your view, kui puts the mirror next to him, revealing what's hidden.

#dungeon meshi #kabru #kabru of utaya #dungeon meshi analysis #text post

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tteokdoroki · 8 months ago

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𐙚 🪷 TRUTH OR DRINK katsuki bakugou .ᐟ

⋆˙ᝰ about ! “you love me, you take care of me. that’s the most romantic thing you’ve ever done f'me." with the release of your husband's newest album and the announcement for his latest tour, the two of you are invited on set to film a special kind of promotional video for newlyweds. hopefully, this married couple leave without a hangover. ( 4.8K )

warnings ! minors blank and ageless blogs do not interact. sfw, fluff, suggestive, angst if you squint, celebrity!au, all characters are aged up to 20s, mentions of sex, mentions of alcohol, drinking, newlyweds, exes, some family issues, long-distance, idol!bakugou, fem + model!reader - not beta read!

aali’s love letter ! happy birthday bakugou! another splendid year for our lord saviour dynamght !! i posted this late boo but its out!! i hope you guys are still able to enjoy <3 ty to @cuntcure for helping out n motivating me !! - m.list ⋆ read on ao3 ! ִ ࣪𖤐₊ ⊹

“fuck, we’re really doing this, huh?”

across from you, katsuki bakugou shifts uncomfortably — ruby red eyes darting around the plain white set. studio lights glare from all directions, illuminating the slight sweat that beads at the blonde’s hairline. artificial lighting, bright and made to capture everything, refracts of the pearling perspiration and almost creates the illusion of a halo around the crown of your partner’s head. almost as if he’s an angel.

reaching over the small table that the producers have set up between you both, you grasp at katsuki’s rough fingers, toying with them as if to test the waters before you hold them fully — once he’s comfortable enough to accept your physical affection. his palms are warm and a little sweaty, but that doesn’t stop you from giving them a gentle squeeze.

“it’ll be fun,” you whisper, keeping your voice low and calm as the production crew continues to contrastingly flit around you in preparation for the shoot. “and it’ll be great promo for your album!” lifting his hands, you press a kiss to the blonde’s knuckles as though you’re sealing a promise, ensuring that they’re not empty. you smile reassuringly and bakugou returns it awkwardly, drawing back just a tad when a member of production sheepishly approaches the table to set down three different bottles of alcohol, two shot glasses and a pitcher of pineapple and coconut juice as your mixer of choice.

glass bottles of whisky, rum, and vodka glit under the white light too.

“we can back out at anytime,” comes your soft reminder once the crew member retreats to check the sound mic and cameras along with some other staff. “i want you to be comfortable.”

bakugou shakes his head, this time, bringing the backs of your hands to his lips — pale blonde lashes fluttering as he shuts away ruby framed eyes and takes a breath to calm himself. “wanna do it. like y’said it’ll be good. fun.” when he opens his eyes again, he’s looking at you with a toothy smirk that never fails to send a shiver down your spine and butterflies in a flurry through your tummy. “besides, we haven’t been able t’do somethin’ like this together in a while.”

nothing beats your grin after that and with a few more touch ups to your make up ( the both of you ) — you’re ready to begin filming.

“okay guys!” the director on set claps their hands. “wanna start us off? who are you and what are you doing here today?”

you give katsuki’s hands one last comforting squeeze before his crimson gaze slinks towards the camera that’s now rolling, fixating on its blinking red light as it matches his stare. “‘m katsuki bakugou ‘nd this is my wife,” he juts his head over to you gently, muttering your name with love laced between each of its syllables.

you too turn to face the camera, award winning smile settling gracefully on your lips. “and today we’re playing truth or drink!” you squirm excitedly. “we’re really happy to be here! thank you for having us!”

“i’m not.”

“katsuki!”

with a laugh behind the camera, the producer speaks again. “so, you’re some pretty special guests. what do you guys do? how long have you two been married?”

bakugou rolls his eyes at the enthusiasm. “i’m a singer-songwriter slash idol or whatever you wanna call it…and i’m on tour right now. so buy my album or you’re shit.”

“and i’m a fashion model slash content creator. we’ve been together for like…five years? married for half a year? a year?” musing out loud, you switch your gaze from the camera to katsuki — letting him know with your eyes that he’s doing a great job.

“eight months, three weeks ‘n two days.” he corrects you seriously, causing sweet laughter to bubble up on your lips.

“sorry, folks. eight months, three weeks and two days.” you retort jokingly. bakugou rolls eyes ruby framed eyes again.

“okay, so still pretty new. let’s start with a shot, shall we?”

ever the gentlemen, your husband pours you a decently sized shot using a drink he knows you like without even asking. he even tops it off with a mixer because he knows that sometimes you can’t get past a bitter aftertaste if the alcohol is too strong. once done with yours, he fills up his own glass before clinking it against yours — both of you knocking back the shot with practised ease.

“god, that shit’s strong.” the pale blonde grimaces.

despite having a facial expression to match, you somehow make light of the situation. “really puts hairs on your chest, doesn’t it, kats?”

“you like my tits naked and juicy, shut the hell up,” smirking cockily, katsuki slides your shot glasses to the side and toys with the stacked white question cards in front of him. “her words not mine.”

“anyways…first card please.”

doing as he’s told, katsuki flips the first card over — skimming the letters written in bold on the other side before he slams it back down. “‘m takin’ a shot.”

the shoot has barely begun and you already find yourself bursting into fits of adoring, amused giggles. “no! it’s not even your question to answer! you have to read it, it’s the first card!” you whine playfully.

“alright, fine,” flipping the card over again with a dejected air about him, bakugou announces the question to both you and the camera. “when was the last time we had sex and where did it happen?”

“oh god.” you pinch your brow.

“told ya. no shots, it’s the first card. y’gotta answer it, babe.” bakugou teases as he casts the card aside, leaning back in his chair slow and sexy like while he watches you hungrily. it’s like making you embarrassed has made him forget that he’s on camera.

sighing through your nose, you pout at the camera and producers who watch eagerly. “on the way here.”

“on the way to this shoot? oh my god!”

“yes! omg. shut up, this is so embarrassing. katsuki don’t laugh!” you practically wail as the set bursts out into laughter. “god, okay. it was on the way here and in the back of the SUV with the partition up. don’t ask me how we had time. katsuki always makes time.”

said katsuki wiggles two fingers towards the camera knowingly and chokes back a raspy chuckle when you frown in response, scooping up your own card. “next question,” your say as your gaze skims the card. “who is your least favourite parent in law? oooh, spicy.”

“definitely her dad,” your husband points a thumb in your direction without hesitation but mouths his words straight into the camera. “you’re a piece of shit by the way.”

the producer pipes in. “can we elaborate?”

“my dad was never the most supportive of my career…but claims everything i have is because of him. it sucks, he's a narcissist and we don’t really speak because of it.” you answer truthfully, attempting to shrug the weight of your familial situation off. you know that most girls dream of having their father walk them down the aisle on their wedding day…but it’s just not in the cards for you. sensing your anger, your hurt and your pain beginning to rise to the surface, katsuki takes the card from you and grasps at your hand — eyebrows raised earnestly into his hairline while he checks to see if you’re okay. a small, wistful smile plays at your lips and you give your partner a gentle nod. “it’s okay though, my mum, mitsuki and masaru have been great parents. katsuki’s mum and dad kept me grounded throughout our engagement, pretty much designed all of my wedding outfits. they were all custom.”

“outfits? as in multiple?”

“ah yes! mitsuki insisted that i had changes throughout the day.” you beam, a giddiness replacing any negative emotion you once felt. your future mother in law had done everything in her power to make you feel like a princess on your wedding day — to this day it made you feel extremely grateful for your positive relationship with bakugou’s family.

“they still fuckin’ spoil her, ma styles her for a lot shoots,” the blonde scoffs but the adoration dancing in the almost brown flecks of his carmine eyes tell a different story. “no seriously, ma ‘n pa love you so much. you’re like the daughter they never had.”

“aw, that’s so cute. i’ll cry.”

katsuki’s turn to pick a card rolls around again, but he doesn’t let go of your hand the entire time — index finger toying with your engagement ring. “what’s was the most stressful part about planning a wedding?” he reads. “oh, definitely the micromanaging from other people. shit pissed me off,” your husband answers almost straight away, already preparing to fix himself a shot when the producer asks him to elaborate.

he shakes his head and the producer turns to you. “our managers thought that they could have a say in our ceremony since it was like the celebrity wedding of the year,” shrugging, you fix your own shot which makes your spouse grin. “we ended up having one public and one smaller, private wedding to say fuck ‘em. and no, they didn’t fire me for this.”

“so a follow up, when you announced your engagement to the world what was a difficult thing you dealt with publicly?” someone from behind the camera asks.

pursing your lips, you look to katsuki for an answer. “the fan wars? some of my fans were…are still caught up on my ex and others think the great singer katsuki bakugou is too good for an influencer like me.”

“they don’t know shit. you’re too good for the world baby, i don’t deserve you.”

“corny ass,” you snort directly into the camera’s shot. “i’m sure that’s one of his song lyrics.”

“is fuckin’ not!” bakugou pouts, though he’ll deny that he was later. “pick another damn card.”

he pushes the pile towards you once more and you cheekily swipe one from the middle to make the video a little bit more interesting for those watching from home when it comes out. hopefully the viewers get a laugh out of bakugou calling you a cheater and you sticking your tongue out at him in retaliation — he pinches it back.

“ouch! owie, okay! okay, let go!” flipping the card so that the text is facing you, you begin to read it out loud slowly — nearly bursting out into an incredulous fit of giggles at the question printed in thick black letters. “this is so ironic, baby you’re gonna love this one,” katsuki raises a brow, intrigued by the coy smile you’re barely trying to hide now. “i dare you to call an ex and remind them that you’re happily married.”

a small silence echoes throughout the studio as you stare at one another, waiting and waiting, until a loud, raspy and haughty laugh rips through bakugou’s throat.

“what’s so funny?”

the blonde sat opposite you, still as handsome as the day you first met him — with glittering gem eyes that sparkle under the studio lights and a toothy smile that never fails to melt your heart, suddenly grows shy. a rose tint spreads its way over the bridge of his nose and his cheeks that have lost their youthful roundness, katsuki blushes softly but laughs with his entire body — only just embarrassed by the secret he's about to reveal to his most dedicated fans and the rest of the world.

leaning forward on the table, elbows on the edge, while you tuck your chin in the seat of your palm — biting your lip in amusement. “do you wanna tell them or should i?”

“i wanna take a fuckin’ short first. can i?” katsuki asks, almost innocently. he knocks back a glass of dark, bitter whisky once he gets the go ahead. “she’s my first. my first everythin’. girlfriend, time, wife—“

“i sure hope i’m your first and only wife, kats.” you cut him off swiftly, a mischievous lilt layered thick on your tone.

he slings an arm over the back of his chair, waving you off lovingly. “—you know what i mean, sweets.” bakugou shrugs in the direction of the producers. “i don’t have an ex to call.”

“okay, we’ll have your wife call one.”

at the film crew’s suggestion, your voice raises an octave, notes of surprise littered through out your melodic voice. “me? who would i even call?” you can’t help but snicker, trying to reach for the juice used for mixer so you can plan your escape route out of the dare.

your husband snatches the bottle from your reach, holding it protectively against his broad chest. “call shindou.” he grunts out low but highly amused.

“oh no, i’m not doing that. let me take the shot katsuki.” comes your instant response, tone turning slightly serious.

“who’s shindou?”

“her ex.”

“my ex.”

the both of you announce in unison, though you’re a little less entertained by your menace of a blonde husband — still guarding the drinks as he chucks the used question card to the side.

“why not?”

“cause it’ll be mean? he still hasn’t recovered from finding out i’m dating the idol he used to train with. yanno, the one who debuted over him.”

bakugou clicks his tongue cockily. “he’ll get over it. call him. c’mon, it’ll be funny and you love making me laugh.”

“alright fine but you have to swear you’ll answer the next one.” you turn to the camera. “he’s right though, his laugh is the prettiest in the world.”

bakugou blushes as you pull out your phone and scroll to the bottom of your contact list, surprised at yourself for not blocking and deleting the number. holding up the sleek device for everyone to view, you jab a thumb into the speaker button and watch with baited breath as it begins to ring throughout the studio.

“hello, yo speakin’,” a voice a little higher pitched than your husband’s filters through the speaker. it’s familiar, but doesn’t hold any of the comfort that bakugou brings. it’s been years since you ended things with your ex, the relationship was rocky and full of miscommunications and mistrusts before either of you skyrocketed to fame. there’s no malice between you both or a reason to cause katsuki why worry, you hope, but talking to yo shindou nowadays is akin to talking to a stranger.

giving the camera an awkward thumbs up, you reply shyly. “hi shin, what’s up?”

“oh hey sweetheart, this is a nice suprise.” your ex purrs through the line. you click the buttons side of your phone to turn up the volume — making sure his every word is picked up by the mics in the room.

bakugou chimes in, clearly looking for an opportunity to show off. “hey asshole, don’t get too excited.”

“hello to you too kats, what can i do you for princess?”

“shin, don’t call me that. also we’re shooting truth or drink right now — newlyweds edition with kats. they wanted me to call, tell you i’m married or something… which i’m sure you know by now.” explaining in a rush, you push at bakugou’s forehead, right between arched, dark blonde brows to keep him and his laughter at bay.

“it’s all anyone can talk about these days, especially when i’m on set. married couple of the year.”

the producers mouth to you to ask shindou a question, in which you almost miss underneath the sounds of your newlywed husband suppressing snarky jokes and giggles. “they’re telling me to ask you if you’re happy for me ‘n kats. you don’t have to answer—“

“i am. happy for you. katsuki, as big as of an asshole as he is, makes you way fucking happier than i ever did. he’s good to you, but you’re better to him. the world wants to see you guys grow old together… i hope it stays that way or else i’ll have to swoop back in—“

cringing along the millions that will be watching in the near future, you slice through his words politely before bakugou can blow a gasket. “thanks, shin. you’re sweet.”

“anything for you, sweetcheeks—“

“alright, alright. you’re pushin’ it now, freak. r’member i’m the one clapping these sweet cheeks and i’ll always be a better fuck than you—“ abruptly, your newfound husband snatches up your phone — growling possessively down the line as if to ward your ex off.

“okaybyethankyou!” squealing you hang up the phone and breathe a heavy sigh of relief, head banging on the table in front of you as you try to hide your flustered face. “that went better than expected.”

the blonde before you shrugs nonchalantly as if he wasn’t seconds away from reaching into the phone and tearing shindou’s head from between his shoulders. “i do love an opportunity to show you off, rub our marriage in people’s faces.” alas, he pours you both a shot, adding a mixer to yours, sort of as a reward for making it through the call. “kay, next card,” he swipes one from the top of the pile once more, carefully murmuring its contents into the studio’s cool air. “can the both of you name one person you would have invited into your marital bedroom on your wedding night? see if you’re both thinking of the same person. easy. on three?”

“sure! one, two—“ you count, the temperature of the room raising as it awaits your big reveal. “kirishima.”

“kirishima.” katsuki says at the same time before smirking cockily at the film crew. “next!”

you join him just as your foot flirtatious slides up his leg from underneath the table. “kats says eijirou is packin’, by the way.” your husband’s smile fades into an embarrassed look, everyone in the room laughing along with you. of course he’s seen it. of course you’ve talked about this before. “anyway, my turn! most romantic thing i’ve ever done for you? c’mon now kats, you can think of something. i’m pretty sweet.”

reaching for your hand for the nth time during the shoot, bakugou laces his fingers with yours — decadent dark red eyes instantly drawn to the big rock on your engagement ring and the simple gold wedding band that sits above it as he recalls everything you’ve ever done for him. every gesture; every text, every act of physical touch or service. it would be hard to choose just one romantic thing.

the silence as he ponders almost fills you with dread, a nervousness fluttering about in your chest like a butterfly whose wings are beginning to fail them. they’d have to edit this part out if he couldn’t think of anything.

but then, those plush pink lips that kiss you and call for you, part gently and a soft sentiment escape’s from between them. “you love me,” is all bakugou can say, eyes wide and genuine. “you take care of me. that’s the most romantic thing you’ve ever done f'me…and, if we’re talkin’ specifics, you remember that time just before my album came out? before our wedding? i was fuckin’ stressed ‘n i was always locked up in the studio, trying to figure out the track list, the final song…”

you nod slowly, exhaling deeply through your nose. “yeah?” the background noise from the crew, cameras and mics wither away until it’s just yourself and bakugou in the room — holding hands as though you’re one another’s life lines.

“it was three am ‘n you were in another city for a shoot but…you still made the drive over to have dinner with me. to make sure i ate,” the tip of katsuki’s rough and calloused thumb brushes over the bumps formed by your knuckles. “just to help me run through things even though i was freakin’ the fuck out and you had a flight to milan the next day. you ate with me and that meant a lot.” he seems wistful as he talks, forgetting that the world will be able to see his heart beating all tender like when the cameras are put away and the footage is polished up.

perhaps he doesn’t care if the world sees him being so vulnerable with the woman he loves on screen. they’ll usually find such openness hidden between the lyrics of his songs. so, perhaps it’s the little alcohol running through his system. nevertheless, quiet love and appreciation seeps from katsuki bakugou’s pours into the quiet atmosphere of the set, the emotions crash over you in waves that you welcome — almost reducing you to tears brewed just for him.

“you asshole,” you sniff, lacking all the spite the insulting nickname carries. “i didn’t think that night meant so much to you… i just wanted to see my baby. wanted to make sure you were okay.”

cocking his head to the side fondly, the blonde singer uses the back of his hand to wipe at your free falling tears you hadn’t realised were there. bakugou doesn’t let go of you the entire time. “don’t cry sweets, you know i hate t’see you cry.”

watery laughter bubbles up on the seam of your lips. “don’t tell me what to do,”

“you said she drove from another city, would you guys say that distance made things difficult for you?”

“sometimes,” you answer the director truthfully. “while we were engaged we’d plan our wedding across different time zones. when i was awake walking for fashion week he was sleeping in his studio making songs.” you explain, looking to katsuki to confirm.

he nods along with another squeeze of your hand. “it was hard yeah, but we got through it. now she has my ring on her finger ‘n she’s stuck with me.”

“send help.” you mouth to the camera.

resuming the game, you snatch up a card and secretly hope that the question is a little more light hearted than the previous. “has my line of work ever made you jealous? oooh, good one,” adding the card to the ones already discarded, you squirm in your seat — excited to know your husband’s answer. “no shots! i want you sober and honest.”

“i’ve hardly had anythin’ to drink!” katsuki snorts. “what’s the sayin’? a drunk man’s words are a sober man’s thoughts? let me have something.”

“no! i want sober words and sober thoughts, that’s the aim of the game, stink.”

katsuki rolls his eyes so hard you fear they might drop out of his skull. “spoiled brat,” he mumbles begrudgingly, sucking his teeth. “okay before anyone says anythin’, i’m a secure guy. i trust and value my girl’s word above anyone else’s. i love seein’ her on billboards in every country i visit, on magazines at every airport I’ve ever flown from…”

“it feels like there’s a but coming.”

“wait for it…” you hum gleefully.

“but i hate that one cover shoot you did with that nerd, izuku, for vogue. that’s it. never do that shit again.” bakugou finishes, crossing his arms over his chest like a petulant child.

nearly leaping out of your seat, you point at your husband — bewildered. “i knew it! you said it didn’t bother you!”

“of course it did! he had his grubby arms wrapped around you! he stinks.”

“you did not just call izuku stinky, he’s got a feature on your album!”

“his feature can kiss my ass,” you know that bakugou is only half serious, the two have written some beautiful songs together and the cover hardly meant anything — izuku models from time to time as well. it just so happens you also work for the same brands. “my turn again, rate my proposal on a scale of one to ten. how good did i do?”

“nine point five.” you nod assertively, speaking to your audience with love bursting through your heart. “he proposed to me at his first sold out concert, like literally stopped singing and apologised to all of his fans because he had something important to say. that’s when he asked me, in front of his entire world. kats’ is real private so it meant so much to me…”

the blonde leans back in his seat but brings your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss directly to your wedding rings. “only nine point five? cheeky fucker.”

“it’s only ‘cause your genius-self decided to chuck my ring into the crowd?” you scoff.

“oi! i have good aim, you’re just shit at catchin’ things!” katsuki scoffs back, nudging you with his foot under the table.

“back to the game love birds.”

the two of you put your playful little spat on the back burner and you grasp the next card. “how many years into our our marriage do you think we’ll stop having sex—?”

“never,” katsuki cuts you off, looking directly into the lense as he jabs a thumb in your direction. “i can’t ever get her off my cock. she’s fuckin’ insane.”

heat flares up underneath the surface of your skin in embarrassment. “fuck you.”

“right after this shoot, sweetheart.” he winks right back at you before nodding down at the cards. “last two, yeah? did your life turn out as expected?”

chewing on your bottom lip, you give the question some thought. life has an unpredictable nature, no matter who you are or where you come from. if someone had told you a year into your college degree, that you’d be in front of sorts of cameras as a profession for the rest of your life — you wouldn’t have believed them. if someone had told you that you’d find the love of your life shortly after, you would have called them a liar too. your past has been heavy, a dark cloud you never thought you’d be able to escape — hauntingly daunting.

and even though you know that it’s a burden to place the weight of your happiness on someone else’s shoulders — but you know that katsuki has always been your golden, blinding light at the end of the tunnel. he’s something you never expected, but someone you entirely deserve after everything life has thrown at you.

“no, it hasn’t,” you whisper softly, ever so slightly distinct. your lover leans in, watching you curiously from over stacked question cards and bottles of barely touched alcohol. “i never expected to be so famous so young, that a silly little dream of mine could come true. that i never expected, i still can’t believe it…but, it’s like… meeting you. falling in love with you, on top of all that? it’s like i was destined to be with you, kats. you’re my soulmate. i knew that from the start.”

just like you earlier, emotion wells up inside katsuki. it breaches the cavity of his chest, slows down the rate of his heart and lungs and brings a slight shine to his beautiful blood red eyes. he sniffs but doesn’t dare look away from you — reading deep into your soul despite knowing the pages of it off by heart. “i feel the same,” he mumbles, reaching over to cup your face even with all of the cameras around. “i never expected to go on tour, sell albums and make music…but i feel like my heart always knew you were waitin’ for me.” quietness fills the space between the two of you, neither of you needing to say much. you cup the wrist of his hand that touched your face, leaning into his palm and pressing a kiss to it. “we’re so fuckin’ corny.”

“you love it.” you reply instantly. “i love you.”

“see?” katsuki asks the production crew as he draws the last card for both of you — holding it out for you to read. “cornball.”

“it’s cute! she’s cute and corny!”

“what about the rest of our marriage do you look forward to most?” since the video shoot is coming to an end, and you hardly want to cry any more, you both decide to make your answers short and sweet. “i look forward to spending forever by your side, taking over the world one continent at a time.” you gush, meaning every single word, smiling adoringly.

“ditto, can’t wait to grow old with you, brat.” bakugou mirrors your expression and finally, finally ends the shoot by pressing the ghost of a kiss to your awaiting lips. you feel warm knowing how comfortable he’s grown over the course of filming, even more so at all of the truths he’s given you tonight.

“that’s a wrap! thank you so much guys!”

katsuki salutes the camera, finishing up for you. “we’ve been the bakugous playin’ truth or drink. buy my album, see me on tour, buy a magazine with my wife’s beautiful face on it. like and subscribe.” all the while, you reflect on everything that you’ve learned about your husband whilst filming — that he loves you a lot more than he lets on, that you have his heart for all of eternity, that nothing in this world and cause his love for you to waver,

and as your matching wedding bands continue to gleam beneath the dimming studio lights, you only hope that he knows that you feel the exact same way about loving him too.

3K notes · View notes

beforetimes · 28 days ago

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my headcanon about the alternate timeline we see in s2ep7 is that instead of ekko and powder being close friends throughout their childhoods who became lovers with no friction, it actually took a while for them to bridge the gap that vi's death caused.

when we see ekko and powder go to vi's memorial for the first time and ekko asks if she was the one who caused their death, powder very quickly retorts that it was ekko's tip that ended up sending them on the job that killed her. i think that this is important not just because the writers wanted to explicitly say that the chain of events that led to the original timeline hinged on ekko's tip but also because in how quickly she said it, we can assume that this is something that's come up between them before.

ekko already is seen as a character who carries a lot of responsibilities on his shoulders, mostly self-ascribed, which i tend to characterize as being born partially of guilt. i think guilt is a large part of his character and it would be somewhat irresponsible to shrug that off when speaking about his character in the alternate timeline that the original ekko drops in on.

powder is characterized as brighter and happier than jinx when she grows up in this universe with a support system, obviously, but she still has a tendency to anger. this is shown through how she tells ekko to get out before she does something she'll regret rather than rolling over in the face of his interrogation and insensitive statements. she also holds a grudge, as we see it takes ekko physically taking her to see vi's painted memorial in the firelight lair before she stops scowling at him in the bar and warms up to him again.

looking at all of these things, i think it's a fair assumption to make that following vi's death, there was a period of time where powder directly blamed ekko for what happened, and that ekko blamed himself as well. this, in my opinion, doesn't cheapen their relationship when they grow up into the people we see in s2ep7, but deepens it.

i think the act of forgiving is something that takes a long time, whether you're forgiving yourself or someone else, and ekko and powder's relationship being as comfortable and easy as it is in s2ep7 speaks to the fact that they had a long stretch of time to get to that space where they could move past the circumstances that led to vi's death. at least, they both do until original timeline ekko drops in and reopens that wound, which in turn leads powder to throw blame back in his face, similarly to how i assume she must have done directly following vi's passing.

the idea that powder and ekko in this alternate timeline had to move past anger, grief, guilt, and blame makes their relationship feel more heartfelt than if they were locked in since day one and there was no more work to be done. love as something that has to be earned and worked for even in a world where things seem mostly ideal shows that it wasn't just a fluke that they got together but a deliberate continuous choice to work through trauma to allow themselves to be together.

it also legitimizes the idea that original timeline ekko and jinx could hypothetically be together as well. not just because we see "oh, one version of powder and ekko can get together so this one can, too" but because both versions have baggage to work past before getting together, but the universe we see displays how this pair managed that with the luxury of a support system and a kinder environment that original timeline ekko and jinx unfortunately weren't afforded.

i think this also makes their team-up in s2ep9 more heartfelt because we can see ekko move past blame when he comes back for jinx to help in the fight, similarly to how i assume ekko in the alternate timeline had to work through his own to eventually get together with powder. both relationships hinge on the fact that they have to put effort in to get comfortable with each other following the consequences of the job that ekko sent them on rather than letting the alternate universe relationship ultimately act as a fluke that can't be replicated because of how drastically different that world is.

#arcane #arcane meta #arcane season 2 #arcane s2 #timebomb #ekko #powder #jinx #ekko arcane #jinx arcane #powder arcane #ekko x jinx #ekko x powder #s2 ep7

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ireneaesthetic · 9 months ago

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Pointing out little moments and details of my fav s3 scene.

choir practice scene • episode 2

this scene caught me so off guard, in the best way possible.

it only took simon's "you should do an activity you actually like" for wilhelm to drop everything and choose getting to spend more time with him!

simon's reaction at wille joining the choir was also mine: he can't believe his eyes and keeps looking back at him with the brightest smile on his face. and simon shifting wille's attention to where the song lyric is bc it's all new to him is adorable.

wilhelm's little proud smirk between the kisses while simon is so into it: he knew and imagined simon's surprised and happy reaction to all this, but i bet he was thriving to see it up until this very moment. so he might just be thinking that he made the best choice of his life.

having to practice and wait for everyone to leave was probably torture for simon, when all he really wanted to do since wille came in was this (simon's main love language is clearly acts of service btw *cough*). he felt important, cared for, loved - and couldn't wait to reciprocate it.

also, he's holding the key chain and happens to do the middle finger with the same hand. if you look at it as a way of saying 'mind your own business' to us is quite funny.

simon setting the rhythm and wilhelm fully going along with it. they don't even separate their lips before leaning in for another kiss - melting into it. they literally said 'no need to catch air bc we're already breathing each other in'.

simon not breaking physical contact even once. his hands are the third main character in this scene: they act like a glue for their bodies and carry so much passion. it is peak chemistry.

going on his tiptoes to push himself as close as possible and clinging to wille for dear life is the most simon thing he's ever done. love really brings out the cuddliest version of him.

smiling into the kisses and out of the kisses? insane of them if you ask me (i support it) (keep doing it lovers).

wille smiling and biting his lip bc he's the one overwhelmed by simon's presence now. physical touch is his love language and he's flooded with simon's - he must feel the luckiest boyfriend on earth.

one of their greatest proofs of love has always been to provide each other's comfort by being exactly what they lack receiving from other people or what they need most of the times - it's a constant learning of how to give and take.

they can't get enough of it: it's not even only about the kissing but more about their need to just keep pulling the other closer, leaning into each other, slowing their movements to not leg go yet but take time to touch and deeply feel instead - wille's face speaks for itself. this hug is so intimate ugh.

it's finally shown a glimpse of wille's hand on simon's back! it was always there obv but it's nice to see it more properly.

wilhelm obsessing over simon's neck and simon who tilts his head back to make it more accessible. wille could've done it all and trace the path with kisses - simon wished - but the boy knew what he was doing!

the way simon looks up at him and wille rubs their noses back and forth, keeping his eyes on him, gives me butterflies.

they're super affectionate and it's the easiest thing for them to do. the intimacy that comes with their whispering, their own personal space becoming one for both of them to share bc it's safer, warmer, a lot more comfortable. everything is such a manifesto of how much they genuinely adore each other - it's what makes this the it scene for me.

their bottom lips touching are sooo *internally screaming*.

wilhelm stands still to let simon's lips brush past his own and simon's cheek resting against wille's lips to enjoy the feeling a little longer. they look so peaceful.

it happens after wille's "i like listening to you sing": they went from "he likes it when i sing" / "i do too, don't i?" (locker room's fight in s2) to wilhelm actually telling him that listening to his voice is one of the main reasons he joined the choir. it has to be extremely special for simon to finally hear it.

idk if it's just my mind making this up but let's pretend simon is kissing wille's neck here!

wilhelm picking simon up by the waist to carry him elsewhere and keep the thing going more privately. that's my wille.

can you believe this is the face of someone who's saying that he needs to go? to not miss the bus? he just looks crazy in love to me.

wille's laugh is cute! and simon throwing his stuff on the floor bc the priority was to push his boyfriend against the lockers to make out will never not be funny.

also, @allthefakepeople once said the only thing that could've made this scene even more perfect is if simon paused when walking away and ran back to wille to steal a quick goodbye kiss - ahhh i'd have been so here for it!

#sorry not sorry for rambling #this scene deserves all the praise #young royals #young royals analysis #yr s3 #choir practice scene #wilhelm x simon #wilmon

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darklordofthesimp · 2 years ago

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Anything VI (König x Reader)

The 6th instalment in the Anything-Verse

Main Masterlist

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 7

Like the characters? Read their fics below!

Sunshine Masterlist || Saint Masterlist

Series Summary: A lack of information from the chain of command results in König mistaking you for an enemy sniper.

A/N: It’s been a while

Category: Angst || Hurt/Comfort || Unrequited Pining || Tension

Warning: Graphic Language

The sunrise had become a welcomed sight, it was always something that you craved after a night of fitful sleep. You were never well rested when you opened your eyes but, by God, were you relieved.

However, unlike the hundreds of mornings before, this time you woke up with a pit in your stomach. There was no relief and only a sense of dread as you lay staring at the ceiling. You took in a deep breath.

The sun crept through the window, reminding you that it was the weekend and that you should be out and about. You'd done plenty of contemplation, wondering about your circumstances every day and every night for over a year.

You weren't going to solve the mystery in one day.

Wrong place, wrong time.

König's words resonated in your ears like nails on a chalkboard. A shiver stroked the length of your spine and the heaviness in your stomach deepened. Since when has that monster been the point of clarity? How is it that he was the one to begin unravelling the string of tragedies you’d been subjected to?

You sat up sharply, lobbing the blanket away from your body.

You needed answers and you weren’t going to find them in your bedroom.

It pained you to leave the safety of your room and it didn’t help that the hallways were colder than usual. The thin hoodie that you’d swaddled yourself in wasn’t doing much against the chill. You grimaced, pulling the fabric closer against your body. Somehow, it always felt like you were making the wrong choices, even with just clothes.

As you approached the common room you could hear low murmuring. The voices sounded like a buzz, both familiar but one of them entirely unmistakable. His accent gripped you by the throat and you felt your stomach flutter.

The physical effects of König lingered long after your injuries had healed.

You stepped into the doorway with a dry throat and shaking hands. Warm light illuminated the room, a singular globe perched above the cheap dining table where two figures sat.

The low talking came to a halt and your eyes were instantly on König. You took in the way his spine straightened, the way his fingers clenched- it was as if his body was electrified by your presence. You knew too well how it felt, bumps raised along the lengths of your arms and a chill stroked your spine.

“Birdy,” König’s voice was barely a whisper. You said nothing, only offering a small nod of acknowledgement.

There’d been a shift between the both of you, tangible and tense. Since your late-night escapade, things had changed- everything was different. There was something different lingering between the two of you, maybe a craving for closure or maybe misguided resentment. You were drawn to him. You needed something from König, something that would fix everything.

You just couldn't figure out what.

Perhaps, untangling the web of coincidences and conspiracies would tell you.

The man took a deep breath and you watched as he forcefully relaxed his body. Those swift and deadly hands unfurled as he leaned back gently into his seat. The picture of nonchalance.

Liar.

“Speak of the devil.”

You dragged your sights to König’s companion and immediately rolled your eyes.

“Sunshine,” you ground out through clenched teeth. “Never a pleasure.”

The sniper in question only offered you a wolfish grin, leaning back into their chair arrogantly. They were dressed in sweatpants and a hoodie that clung to their wide shoulders- accenting every inch of mass that they’d carefully built.

You wished you could say that they were all brawn and no brain, but the irritating creature was as cunning as they were strong.

“Oh,” Sunshine pouted mockingly, “I haven’t even begun to give you shit yet, you can’t be mad already.”

You glared at them, raising a shaking finger to point. “It’s not even 8 in the morning. Are you capable of shutting up long enough for me to get a coffee?”

“Uh,” Sunshine pretended to think, “no. But I appreciate the gentle diplomacy. Your character development is astounding.”

You growled harshly, storming past the snickering cretin and making your way towards the coffee machine.

“Better buckle up, bitchy buttercup,” Sunshine tossed over their shoulder as they got up from their seat. “Apparently we got company today.”

You didn’t get a chance to reply before they sauntered out of the room. Unfortunately, the lingering stench of their arrogance didn’t disappear with them. You huffed, smacking the button frustratedly.

“Company?” You asked.

“Rank from some elite company. Not sure.” Was the cautious reply.

You angled yourself so that you had eyes on König, leaning against the bench warily. The sniper remained in his chair, he’d made no move to leave with Sunshine. It seemed he didn’t want to run from you this time and you weren’t planning your great escape just yet. The machine whirred as it dispensed your coffee and you tried to calm your heart rate. The balaclava was still on, leaving only his eyes to decipher his thoughts.

You hated it.

“We have training this afternoon,” König murmured, dipping his gaze to his hands.

Take it off.

You hated when you couldn’t see his face.

“I know,” you rasped.

Get it off.

“Do you think you’re up to do some groundwork?” The question was tentative but you couldn’t hear it from the blood rushing in your ears.

You hated that you were forced to look at nothing but his eyes.

“I- Uh…”

Just like that night.

Get it off.

“I’m not…”

Get off.

The foam cup in your hand crunched as it fell to pieces. The sharp pain of the boiling coffee ripped you from your spiralling thoughts and had you gasping for air instead.

“Birdy!”

König was on his feet before your name had finished leaving his mouth. Your hand pulsed from the burn, your skin red and raw. He loomed over you, his gaze running up and down your body. A horrid sound pulled from your throat. The man’s fingers were around your wrist, gentle but firm. Unyielding.

You tugged against him lightly, your chest heaving. The bench pushed into your spine reminding you of your position, trapped between König and a dead end.

“I’m okay,” you rasped.

“No,” he said hoarsely, “no, I shouldn’t have pushed it-”

You couldn’t breathe. His presence was overwhelming, it was staggering- it was all-consuming.

“Please,” you whispered, lowering your head. Your forehead brushed the hard contour of his chest lightly and you tried to ignore the way he took in a sharp breath. You didn’t mean to touch him, you just didn’t want to look at him- not with that mask.

You were so sick of being afraid.

“Please, what?” König murmured, his hands hovering by your shoulders but never touching. “What do you need, Birdy?”

“Let me see you,” the words fell from your lips shakily, almost desperate. “The mask, take it off. Please.”

There was a moment of silence as he processed your request then he swore under his breath.

“I forgot,” he shook his head, “I’m so sorry. We had an agreement-”

The words died on his tongue when you tilted your head up to look at him. You were inches apart, the staggering height difference acted like a thin barrier between the two of you. You could taste his stuttered words, you could see the blue flecks within the jade of his eyes.

Your heart squeezed when they widened. You could hear his breathing pick up and your heart thrummed between your ribs.

You reached upward with shaky hands, the bench pressing harder than ever into your back.

“Can I-...” Your tongue was heavy and dry like sandpaper. You swallowed thickly.

“Of course,” König said, voice steady and eyes fixed on yours.

Your fingers brushed the skin of his neck as you felt for the fabric. He was hot, as though his blood simmered just beneath your touch. You prayed he wouldn’t notice how you shook- you tried to pretend you couldn’t feel him trembling either.

He was holding his breath, suspended in time like an intricate statue, carved from marble and timeless throughout the ages. A picture of sorrow and angst and stories you weren’t sure you wanted to hear.

Your journey together had played out like a Greek tragedy.

But, as the herculean man let you unveil him, you wondered if there could be redemption.

You wondered if you could both be saved.

“Well, isn’t this adorable.”

You jumped back, stabbing pain shooting up the length of your spine like a rocket. You corked yourself against the bench, a jilted gasp ripping from your chest. König’s hand gripped your bicep, holding you upright as the other readjusted his mask.

Your body throbbed as you peered at the entrance through squinted eyes.

Phillip Graves.

The man offered a smarmy grin, arms crossed and leaning on the doorframe like he owned the place.

Bile rose from your stomach to your throat, leaving your fingers scrambling for purchase on the countertop. You steadied yourself as best you could. Nothing was going to prepare you for Phillip Graves but if you could stay upright you’d have a fighting chance of getting through unscathed.

“It’s been a while.” The Shadow Company commander raised a brow. “Heard you been havin’ a tough time, Birdy.”

You forced yourself to stay still. König shifted beside you, his body angled in front of yours. Your mouth dried at the protectiveness in his stance, though, it also didn’t go unnoticed by the unwelcome guest.

Graves raised a brow as he examined you both, pushing off from the door.

“Now, who’d have thought that you’d both be so…” he pretended to deliberate on a word, “close.”

Your eyes widened. “We’re not!”

The urge to slap your hand over your mouth was overwhelming and red-hot shame licked your cheeks. A slow smile spread across his mouth at your desperation. You felt cornered, you felt vulnerable- Graves was the fox making his way through the coop and you were the stupid chicken standing still.

“Oh,” he chuckled, taking slow strides towards the table. “I’m sure, sweetheart.”

You grit your teeth.

“And you are?” König growled, his back straightening as he glared down at the smaller man. “I’m afraid I don’t recognise you.”

You’d almost forgotten he was there.

For the first time ever, König wasn’t the biggest threat in the room.

Phillip sighed, unfazed by the clear hostility souring his tone. “I’m here on a task, just thought I’d check in on our injured soldiers.” He paused, deliberating. “Well, that really just leaves us with you.”

Anger flooded your system as Graves turned on his heel, stretching his arms over his head. He sauntered towards the exit, snickering beneath his breath. “How lovely to see you’re on the mend. Adios.”

“Yeah, not so broken anymore,” you snapped, unable to stop the words from spilling out. You didn’t want to antagonize him but you also were fully aware that you sounded like an angry high schooler.

“No!” Phillip laughed, offering you a sidelong glance as he paused. “Big boy really did a number on you though. I gotta be honest, I’m surprised you pulled through.”

You wanted to throw the coffee machine at his head and, judging by the way König’s fists clenched, he did too.

“It’ll take more than that to kill me,” you ground out through your teeth.

The smile wavered on Grave’s lips and he watched you closely for a long moment. “Noted.”

Your stomach dropped.

When he turned around again, you planned to let him leave with the last word. He could take the small win and you’d leave with nothing but churning nausea and anxiety. Graves wasn’t worth the stress, in the grand scheme of things he was insignificant.

Though, the parting words thrown over his shoulder made you question that statement.

“On that note, General Shephard sends his regards.”

Graves disappeared into the corridor, taking the last tether to your sanity with him.

____

“I think something is wrong,” you huffed as you smacked the door open.

Saint raised a brow, throwing their hands up flippantly. “Oh no,” they rolled their eyes, “please just barge into my office unannounced with vaguely ominous statements.”

They chucked their phone onto their notebook, crossing their arms when you closed the door behind you. They were irritated and unsettled, it was an unusual mood for the Doctor but you couldn’t find it in you to care.

“This is literally your job,” you sniped, dropping into your designated chair.

Saint’s jaw dropped. “No, it fucking isn’t!”

“Listen!” You exclaimed with pleading eyes. The doctor's mouth closed, resigning to form a displeased scowl instead of words. You knew that Saint hated surprises, that’s where appointments and bookings kept them in control and prepared for the incoming onslaught of issues.

But this was too urgent to wait for your next meeting.

“I’m spiralling,” you gasped, running your hand over your face.

“Birdy, I’m sure-“

“I think the accident was a set-up.”

Any words that Saint conjured had guttered out and died. Your hands shook on your face, palms pressed into your cheeks.

Their eyes flit around the room as if scanning for spyware. You held your breath as the Doctor took a deep one in.

“Birdy,” they said slowly, leaning their elbows onto their knees. “Are you sure?”

“Something is wrong, Saint,” you whispered.

“But,” they raised a brow, “are you sure?”

Your lips trembled and your eyes burned.

“Yes,” you shuddered. Saint leaned back with a rush of air slipping from their lips. You could see the cogs and gears in their head working to make sense of it, you could see their hesitance to believe you.

You wouldn’t believe you either, you supposed. Not with your… history. The scars on your face burned at the thought. But, for the first time in a long time, you were confident that you were right.

If you were right it meant that König and yourself were pawns in somebody else’s games.

It meant that your own people had done this to you.

It meant that somebody wanted you dead.

#könig cod #cod x reader #cod mw2 x reader #call of duty x reader #call of duty mw2 #call of duty #könig call of duty #konig call of duty #könig modern warfare #könig mw2 #könig #könig x reader #konig x reader

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maximumzombiecreator · 4 months ago

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I would actually like to know what you consider the basics of improv to be! If nothing else, you phrase these things really well and in ways I haven't heard before, and I'm also aware there's a lot of things I don't know (I'm in a student run college improv group, our theory might be a bit lacking)

Be glad to. A lot of improv stuff is just oral tradition at this point, passed down in musty school drama rooms and community centers, so everyone has to pick it up somewhere. When I've taught people before, beyond the basic definition of what an improv scene looks like, I usually focus on a set of do's and don'ts.

Do's:

Make offers, and make them good offers. A good offer should be strong and elegant, like a power lifter in a ball gown.

Broadly speaking, I'd say the strength of an offer refers to how much it establishes about the scene, and how much what it establishes is different from a theoretical "default" scene. Typically, you think about how much an offer is establishing in terms of the questions words: who are the characters, what are they doing, where are they, etc. An offer that establishes "two characters who are old friends since high school meeting up at a coffee shop to catch up" is establishing a lot, but it's still a weak offer because it's such a typical scene. You're not adding much that can't just be taken for granted.

When I say a good offer should be elegant, I mean that it should be as compact as possible while still doing a lot. The typical inelegant offer is verbose and unnatural. A character walks into a scene and says, "Hey, big brother Billy, I hope you're recovering from the illness you've had for the last six months, ever since our father died," or some other expository nightmare.

So, the best offers are both. They create a lot of unique, interesting details about the scene, and they do it quickly. Let's say you stagger into the scene, miming carrying something under your arm, and say, "Doctor! I've been decapitated again!" In five words, you've established who you and another character are, where you are, and why, and you've implied a lot of very unusual details about the scene, world, and your character's history.

When thinking about elegant offers, it's also worth noting that a lot of offers that you should be making are physical. Depending on the type of improv you're doing, you might be physically embodying objects and the environment, and if you're doing background like that you can add a ton of detail that the audience can pick up without friction. But even if you're not, you can establish location through miming actions, you can create details about your character through how you walk and hold your body, you can endow others with traits through how you physically react to them.

That brings us to the next do: make strong character choices and enhance other actors' characters. People have written whole books on what comprises a "strong character" but for improv purposes I'd focus on three details: quirks, status, and connections.

Quirks are fairly straightforward: what makes this character unusual? Establishing character quirks is the focus of a lot of improv games and exercises, and the best quirks are quick to establish, significantly inform the character, and are handled with enough sincerity to make the character compelling rather than only funny.

Status refers to how powerful and important a character is. High status characters will command the room, low status characters will be ignored or mistreated. Status might shift over the course of a scene. The sheriff is a high status character until the king shows up, for example. Status might seem like an obvious thing to figure out from a character's role, but it's useful to play with it. What does a low status king look like? What does an employee-boss scene look like if you decide your employee is higher status than the boss?

Connections refer to the relationships between characters. This is going to drive scenes more than most other character details, and you almost always want to avoid unconnected characters. Choosing a connection to an existing character is a very good first choice when entering a scene, as it should immediately suggest a direction for the scene to take. This is also a reason to favour unusual connections. If two actors are in a scene where they're arguing about a fender bender they've been in, you could choose to enter as one of their friends, but it'll be far more dynamic if you choose a more unusual connection. What if you're one of their anger management therapists? Their boss? Their dominatrix?

In addition to creating your own character, you should add to other actors' characters. The main way you do this is endowment, giving the character traits through your offers. Direct endowment is when you simply ascribe them a trait. If you say, "Bill, you've been mayor for the last ten years," then you're obviously giving them the trait of "mayor." But there's also indirect endowment, where you add something to a character through part of how you react to them. If you flinch when another character moves suddenly, you're endowing them with the traits of being dangerous and erratic. If you speak to them very slowly and simply, you're implying something about how intelligent your character perceives them to be.

Putting it all together, the last big thing to do is build up. There can be a temptation in improv to build out, to add new details to scenes that sort of sprawl outward from the original premise. Try to avoid that. When you add new details, make them ones that build on the existing details. Instead of adding new tensions or conflicts, raise the stakes of existing ones. Reincorporate and re-contextualize things that have already been established. Incorporate audience suggestions repeatedly, using them to colour other offers.

Don'ts:

No blocking. This is the one even people who don't know improv know. If someone adds something to the scene, go with it. Don't reject or ignore offers, incorporate and build on them.

No wimping. Whatever the scene is, whatever your character is, whatever offers are made, fully commit. Bring all your energy to it. If someone says your character is on fire, don't just stop, drop, and roll and then go back to whatever else was going on. That's wimping. Be the most on fire that you can be.

No dithering. When you're in a scene, always be adding to it or moving it forward. Saying something that just fills space, at best makes a joke, and doesn't add to the scene is bad form, it doesn't give other actors anything new to work with. If you're dithering, you're forcing other actors to pick up the slack. This is called "gagging" if you're being funny by not adding to the scene, and is a great way to be popular with the audience and have everyone else hate you, don't be that person.

Don't make yourself look good at the expense of your scene partners. It's okay to get laughs at the expense of other characters, but not at the expense of other actors. Help others get into the scene, develop their characters, and give them things to respond to, add onto their offers.

Related to the above, don't steal the spotlight. If there's a scene going on that you're not the focus of, you should be trying to figure out how to enhance what's going on. Everyone can tell when an actor can't bear to be in a supporting role, and it's not a cute look.

More than anything, don't betray the trust of other performers. All theatre requires trust, but improv requires so much trust. If you lose that trust, you're done, you've got nothing.

#ask #improv

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bibuckaroo · 1 month ago

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i need to talk about this because this is very important to me:

yes, khun is down bad for bam and we KNOW that, but we need to start appreciating the fact that bam is down bad for him too and he’s just as embarrassing about it, like, this is not one sided, guys. the only difference is that bam always has a lot of shit going on, while khun always only deals with bam related problems.

but examples of bam being down bad:

• always singles khun out in a group, he’s the first person he sees and unless someone else interacts with him, he continues to only focus on khun, to the point that endorsi herself talks about this more than once, because she’s jealous that bam isn’t paying attention to her.

• while bam doesn’t like seeing any of his friends hurt, he usually doesn’t stop them from joining fights if they insist on it, he’ll just do his best to protect them. but here’s the thing: if he can help it, he doesn’t even let khun join a fight in a physical way and when khun looks like he’s going to leave his post in his lighthouse, bam explicitly tells him not to do that because it’s too dangerous, because to him khun belongs in the safety of his lighthouses, strategizing and protecting their friends.

• at the end of the day, the person bam is going to open to will always be khun. this is explicitly made aware when he bids both endorsi and yuri good night (two people who are his close friends and he’s known for years, and could’ve open up to at anytime) because they said they were going to rest, but when khun tried to do the same, he stopped him and asked if he could speak to him about the master key. very important!!! bam also wants to be the person khun opens up to, but every time he manages to ask him something personal, they get interrupted (looking at you, endorsi).

• bam actually stated it himself that khun ‘is his most precious friend’ when talking about why he was protecting ran, in terms of him being khun’s brother. enough said about it, khun is already on a whole other level to anybody else, and how insane it is that he’s willing to lay down his life for ran because he knows it would upset khun if anything happened to him?

• RACHEL HERSELF POINTED OUT THAT KHUN IS BAM’S PRIORITY!!! when she asked bam why he was giving her a fair chance in terms of getting the thorn fragment, literally her first assumption was because she had saved khun’s life.

• i also feel that is important to point out that while bam may not want khun in the direct line of danger, there is no one he trusts more than khun, because he knows that at the end of the day he can take care of himself, he just wishes he wasn’t put into a position where he had to. like in the sweetfish situation, he had a choice of where to go and he chose to go to hoaquin because he knew khun was with the sweetfish and he trusted khun to have a plan, even though he was worried.

• lastly, i need to mention this because i have never seen nobody talk about that: bam tries to hold on to the image of himself from the test floor in his interactions with khun a lot. after his time as jue viole grace, every time we see him interacting with other characters we see him serious and determined but rarely smiling, even with his old friends, but with khun i noticed a lot of instances that he does the closed eyed smile to reassure that everything was fine and while a part of me wants to believe that the only reason this happens is because khun just brings out this side of him, i also believe that is because (at least in a subconscious level) he believes that is the version of himself khun grew to care for (since we know bam segregates his personality, since his sworn enemy is the version of himself that is jue viole grace) and if he’s not that version anymore, will khun still care for him? (welp, this just got really angsty).

to end all of this: basically, i feel like we talk a lot about khun and his obsession with bam (affectionate) but we don’t talk enough about bam’s with him because his moments are always more subtle and usually get lost in everything else that’s happening on bam’s life.

and i noticed that we, in the khunbam fandom, tend to be able to read khun better (he truly is easier to read) than bam, but now this post makes me want to do a character study on bam.

#lari reads tog #tower of god #tog #khunbam #the 25th bam #jue viole grace #khun aguero agnis #if you made it this far #congratulations!!#also i’m so sorry!!#i got carried away with my rant #but can you tell this subject is important to me??#like i cannot stress this enough!!#KHUNBAM IS NOT ONE SIDED YOU GUYS!!#they just express their love in different ways #but it’s soulmatism all the way with them

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coefore · 10 months ago

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I did it! This is an IDW AU born while watching The Green Knight (2021), specifically from one movie shot that I'd like to redraw. I was torn on whether or not to draw them all as robots or humans, so I started making designs for their human counterparts first - mostly because it is more fun to come up with clothes and accessories. I will eventually tackle a robot version. This is a long post, btw!

Indeed, this is a completely separate version from the Lion King AU I had come up with a couple of years ago, I just borrowed the crowns because I really liked those designs lol.

But let's set the stage under the cut. You can listen to the playlist on spotify dedicated to it: I've placed the songs in sequence so that they can create a certain vibe for the scenes I had in mind. You can read the plot part while listening.

Some character traits

This royalty au supposes a parliamentary monarchy (like the UK, Spain or Japan). This work is an in-between of later Roman/early Medieval aesthetics and some Futuristic Stuff. The Autobot brand is the royal family crest, while the Decepticon brand can be used to signal the Protector and their entourage, but only in formal settings outside the nation. Usually, the Protector can show elements of the Decepticon colours (red) in their attires.

Optimus Prime

Optimus is prideful and domineering: he knows he has the power to do real damage to people. After all, he was born into royalty and has known no other life. He has anger outbursts, but that's a side effect of his paranoia. At the start of the story, he is not the prime yet. He's around 23-24, already suffering from a mental affliction much like schizophrenia, but, just as in ye old days, the court and his father (Zeta) are not really concerned about his odd behaviours. "He is just volatile", you know. He is also dramatic, making big scenes when his emotions are too cooped up. Optimus, though, is not intentionally cruel - this isn't a Shattered Glass au where he wants some kind of bloodlust sated. He has a deep inner mind, feeling much more like a philosopher and a writer than a brute. This makes him a little naive, too, having people in court (like Prowl) taking advantage of him - and sometimes even Megatron uses his influence on Optimus to stir him where he wants to. He reads a lot, is curious, and is deeply in love with Megatron - sometimes becoming a little cringy about it. He can be a bit of a goofball, telling jokes and being rather affectionate with his family. Sadly, he's a Pisces.

Megatron

Megatron is a diligent engineer who just so happens to pick the Prime's son's interest at some point while assisting his father (Terminus, a strict, distant man) in a job at court. Optimus and Megatron are the same age. He is aloof, quiet and a very good listener. That means he often allows people to speak over him or for him - that doesn't mean, however, that he isn't going to correct them or speak his mind. He is just a careful man. Coming from a rather cold family environment, he has a hard time expressing his emotions, both verbally and physically: he kisses and hugs, sure, but that doesn't come naturally to him. After becoming protector, he has a hard time getting used to the court lifestyle since he is quite bothered by the intricacies of royal "rituals", may they be clothing, hairstyles or make-up choices. Or Starscream fussing over him about that all day. He also often stands up against abuse of power, especially from Optimus. They fight quite a lot. He enjoys drawing (buildings, like architecture) and reading novels, but he's not particularly cultured. He is also, sadly, an Aquarius. (And transgender, but this has no political or social bearing in the story besides being Rodimus' biological carrier).

Prowl

Prowl is about fifteen years older than Optimus, becoming his advisor once Zeta Prime passes in "a tragic accident". He is ambitious, cunning and... Deceptive. His ultimate goal is to push Optimus to insanity, convince the parliament he is unfit to rule and become reagent in his stead. This would allow him to create an oligarchy with other senators. His words always support Optimus' delusions, abusing the Prime's naivety for his scheming. Prowl thinks of Optimus as an idiot lucky enough to be born in a high position in the social pyramid. He has attempted various times to "warn" Megatron, one of the few people who is extremely suspicious of Prowl. And by warn, I mean having him pushed down the stairs, giving him a nice broken leg. He also acts suspiciously around Rodimus.

Zeta Prime

Zeta Prime was a balanced, careful ruler. He held concerns about his son's future, as he thought Optimus wasn't fit for a leading role. He was a stern man and often frustrated by Optimus' antics. However, their relationship was on good terms. He was "found" dead by Prowl during a political meeting abroad, as he was standing in for Alpha Trion (Zeta's advisor), prompting Optimus' coronation. Zeta wasn't sick, but all primes in this AU suffer from haemophilia (a hereditary illness that makes it harder for the body to stop bleeding).

Rodimus

Rodimus was born three years into Optimus' primacy. He was brought up in a restrictive environment, as Megatron grew more suspicious of Prowl, fearing for Rodimus' safety. That translated into Rodimus feeling anxious when Megatron's not around (for too long, at least) and becoming a little jealous of him, even if it's Optimus taking Megatron's attention. Rodimus uses "dad" for Megatron and "Father" for Optimus. He doesn't like Optimus too much, usually bearing his presence and ignoring him whenever he can, but deep down he worries about his father, too. He is a very knowledgeable child with a vast vocabulary, as he enjoys books of every kind and, just like his dad, he is a good listener, learning a lot from the "adult conversations" around him. Rodimus is often seen together with Starscream (his nanny, in a way lol), who he is fond of but has difficulties showing it. He becomes Prime-to-be at the age of 16, like all Primes.

Starscream

Starscream was the royal alchemist, an inspired researcher and a man of science. He is loyal and has strong opinions on many subjects, especially on morals and ethics. That is also why, during Zeta's late reign, he was demoted to servant with the accusation of insubordination. He is still a high-grade servant, usually dealing with bureaucracy... Until a new Protector shows up, that is. As soon as Megatron becomes a Protector-to-be, he is assigned the role of first maid in assisting him, a task he takes very seriously. Although Megatron's distance and lack of interactions with him drive him quite mad at first, he slowly realises they're quite compatible. Their relationship evolves into confidants and then friends, as Megatron often takes Starscream's side. Also, Starscream has been suspicious of Prowl since day one. He enjoys Rodimus until he starts being a little opinionated pest-- but he's fond of the child, even as he grows older and more anxious. His hobby is sneaking into the court laboratories and fixing whatever annotations made by other alchemists he deems wrong.

Skywarp & Thundercracker

They are part of the Protector's entourage (and Starscream's brothers). Skywarp is a little airheaded, a bit clumsy, and usually focuses on entertainment, mostly writing poems and songs. He is the only one who knows all the intricate inner passages of the court's buildings by heart, meaning he never gets lost. Thundercracker, on the other hand, is a bit more cocky. He is built like a brick, so he helps with manual tasks and is a decent leader, usually picking up the ranks when Starscream is busy. Both of them were not demoted like their brother, they just started working at the court as high-grade servants. They are very loyal to Megatron, although they treat him more like a royal than a friend.

The Plot (generally speaking)

Optimus is interested in this one engineer working at the court he has seen a couple of times in the last few months. He is gorgeous, and it sounds like a fun time to fill in his afternoons, maybe even getting some sex out of it. That's a thing he hasn't lacked in his life, like most royals he was used to having sex workers available at whim. However, Megatron doesn't seem too affected by the Prime-to-be's attention. He is very deadpan and interested in him as a person; he finds Optimus interesting and funny, so, in a matter of weeks, they kind of hit it off, Optimus falling madly in love with this man, spending most of the time daydreaming and absolutely useless at his duties, much to Zeta's dismay.

As this love story progresses over the next couple of years, Prowl's machination starts rolling out: being a young overachiever, he patiently waits for the chance to get rid of Zeta in a way that doesn't point directly to him. After all, Prowl is trusted and seen as loyal and caring for the Primes he serves; he is an incredibly talented actor, having the support of a few Autobot senators, too. On an out-of-country political trip, he lets Zeta bleed to death, coming back home in a hurry to announce the Prime's death and rushing Optimus' coronation. At this point, Optimus is not mentally ready to hold that position; he is quickly pushed to marry Megatron, making him his Protector. In a matter of a year and a half, Optimus' mental state quickly deteriorates, allowing Prowl to take hold of the neo-Prime's decisions.

Optimus' mental illness worsens, which stresses Megatron into stirring his husband away from Prowl. Rodimus is born in that worried, paranoid environment. Although mostly wanted by Optimus as one of his fixations (and also discouraged by Prowl himself), Rodimus brings more stability to the court. Megatron finally takes hold of Optimus' volatile behaviour as Rodimus grows older, making the Prime doubt his advisor's suggestions more than once. Prowl, thus, "warns" Megatron to lay low, having him pushed down the stairs. The goal wasn't to kill Megatron but to show him Prowl could. As Rodimus turns seven, Megatron becomes more anxious and paranoid, rubbing that over to his son. Optimus doesn't allow them to go around the court or outside without being accompanied.

Prowl's hold on Optimus slowly slips away. At the time of Rodimus' coronation as a Prime-to-be, during a medical examination for his haemophilia, the court physician (Ratchet) tells him he needs to be careful, as that illness was Zeta's cause of death. That was a known thing, of course, but it made Optimus think over the mechanics of his father's death in a way only an obsession-driven man can. He confides with Megatron over his suspicion of Prowl killing his father, and finally, they seem to be on the same page on this...

This is somehow the story up to now. I don't know if I'll update it further. I just enjoy the idea of whatever can happen in this setting. I hope you enjoyed reading this wall of text.

#transformers #shattered glass #maccadam #starscream #megop #megatron #optimus prime #rodimus #megaop #prowl #alternate universe #skywarp #thundercracker #humanformers #fanart #erinni #Spotify #a morte

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shsl-analyzer-guy · 2 months ago

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got a totally random rush of Emotions about Chihiro's gender so hi let's talk about how the entire account of Chihiro 'totally being a cis dude guys' is told by Monokuma, the guy that later goes on to fake a suicide note and falsify an entire class trial just to be pissy. Ah yes top 10 most reliable narrators ever of all time, yes, yes, very convincing

Not to mention in the exact same fucking motive he's very obviously purposefully warping the truth and lying to the cast's faces?? Within the 'embarrassing memories' motive Mondo's is a warped version of the truth. "Mondo killed his own brother" but he didn't, and just about everyone is able to grasp that one. He indirectly led to the accident, but Daiya made his own choices. So wouldn't the same logic apply to Chihiro's motive? "He dresses like a girl but actually is a boy" sounds like you're actively warping her own life experience to send her into Despair.... which is Monokuma's primary character motive.... crazy how that works........

And now, a compilation of every line Chihiro delivers in her own backstory, without the narrative padding from Monokuma explaining to you why this is totally her hating being a woman and wanting to be a man

"Now nobody will be able to say anything about 'even though you're a boy'..."

"I'm... weak... Weak, weak, weak, weak, weak, weak, weak, weak...!"

"Now's my chance..."

"I'm going to get stronger... and accept who I am..."

"Strong enough so that when someone says 'even though you're a boy' it'll be okay. I'll get better!"

"Maybe talking to Mondo about it will help give me some courage..."

So yeah, once you pull out the unreliable narrator. You get like, 6 lines total. 1/3 of which specify that she IS AFRAID of people saying "even though you're a boy". Now, call me crazy, but if we're genuinely arguing that Chihiro is a cisgendered man, why the hell would she say the equivalent of "I need to accept being a boy. Gee, I sure hope no one calls me a boy while I do so!" That's. That's inherently contradictory. More than anything, looking at Chihiro's lines as the most reliable source of Chihiro's thoughts about herself, it starts to look less and less like a man who wants to rise above being gnc and be a true manly man, and more like someone who's about to get fucking outed and mocked by Monokuma and trying to do damage control, steeling herself to be called a man and strengthening her mind and body to prepare for said outing.

Earlier in chapter 2, Chihiro is already thinking of starting to try working out, but is too afraid to enter the lockers because she's well-aware she can only enter the boys' locker rooms. The inference that Makoto comes to is that Chihiro is an individual trapped in a killing game that couldn't defend herself verbally in the library the morning prior, and is visibly the physically weakest in the class. Ergo, perhaps she wants to be able to defend herself better? Well, neither of those facts that lead to said inference magically change after the discovery of her dick, so perchance, the reason she wanted to get stronger was still so she could defend herself both verbally and physically?? The ONLY reason you'd have to come to the conclusion she wants to reconnect with her assigned sex is because she is being actively threatened into it by Monokuma's motive, or if you take Monokuma's story at his word, that he'd speak respectfully of the dead. Just like he did with every other character in that game, right?

Also, it's worth noting that in the actual conversation-turned-spiral between Chihiro and Mondo before Chihiro's death, neither Chihiro nor Mondo actually talk about Chihiro's gender, only her strength and desire to destroy her weakness. Yes, Mondo is using he/him in the voiceover, but the entire class is atp, and again. Using that as genuine evidence falls flat because we see in that very same scene that Mondo WAS NOT completely present for that conversation. He saw Chihiro's willpower and spiraled, conflating Chihiro with his brother and lashing out in a ptsd-induced blackout.

Also also, if you're gonna argue Chihiro has no reason to need to get physically stronger unless it's to be more masculine, A) Sakura exists in the same game, and B) please god look up any statistics on the amount of violence trans teens receive. That alone is a perfectly reasonable justification for a trans woman to want to be able to defend herself, especially when locked in a place where you cannot escape your potential aggressors.

TLDR Chihiro is legitimately more believable as a trans woman, and every intervention attempting to explain otherwise comes from a character defined by his love of twisting the truth for the sake of causing suffering. Hi hello does anyone hear me

#idk I've just seen one too many ppl saying anyone who hcs Chihiro as transfem is “disrespecting his character arc” and I just #did we play the same game #and I really don't care if you like masc Chihiro who dresses femininely! It's fine! Art is meant to be interpreted by the viewer and all th #but are ppl seriously arguing Chihiro MUST be referred to as a man because Mono-fucking-kuma said so #all the themes of mental v physical strength actually completely continue to exist and be meaningful even if one of them is a girl actually #strength =/= sex #gender =/= genitals #chihiro fujisaki #ranting #sometimes 'men who dress like girls and use she/her' do so because they like being girls actually #sincerely a gnc trans man

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andthespidersfrommars · 4 months ago

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other people have worded it better then me, but inej's assertion about having kaz in the without armor scene was clearly not just about emotional vulnerability. it’s a powerful line in the books and a nice metaphor for emotional intimacy, (something inej deserves from kaz) but let's not shy away from the fact that she also made it clear she meant physical intimacy, as her words were "fully clothed, gloves on, head turned away so our lips can never touch"

this nuance is important to consider, as it reflects the depth and complexity of her feelings at the time. it’s ironic that for people who apparently care so much about inej’s boundaries, the fandom rarely pays attention to what she says. inej has flaws and virtues, some affected by different experiences she's had, and that affects her choices. her words aren’t any less hurtful because of this. she got kaz in a vulnerable moment and said something cruel. later she reflects on this and admits she shouldn’t be holding kaz to standards she can’t meet herself, and she likely said that to him in the first place because she lashed out about something that’s personally a trigger for her and she’s vulnerable about. they both have a lot of issues surrounding physical intimacy.

that’s one reason why kanej is such a good ship- one of the most healthy, beautiful and nuanced relationships ever between two children who have been through horrific things, exploited, abandoned, and put in danger every day, who have found safety and friendship and understanding in each other. they aren’t going to be speaking super politely and using sensitive, respectful, inoffensive woke therapy speak at every second because that’s not their situation or their relationship and their interactions are raw and real. sometimes they make mistakes (kaz calling inej an investment, inej saying kaz wouldn’t be able to have her if he couldn’t touch her, etc) but they recognise and admit when they do and work through that. the beauty of their friendship lies in their imperfections and their capacity to learn from each other. the bare honesty they share is a testament to their growth, even when it leads to moments of pain or misunderstanding.

to suggest that holding inej to a higher standard and not acknowledging that her words could be perceived as hurtful is akin to ignoring the very human aspects of her character. it’s essential to recognize that she is capable of making mistakes or risk turning her into a perfect fandomised queen incapable of fault. her character's journey is not about being infallible, but about growth, self-reflection, and the courage to confront and overcome her fears. strong and resilient, yet also capable of causing harm, even unintentionally.

there’s a phenomenon in fandom spaces but particularly the grishaverse where fans have an opinion of something and then deem everyone else’s as bad or wrong, going so far as to make posts calling out other people for having different analysis. literary discussions should encourage an environment where different interpretations are welcomed and discussed respectfully, not minimised and devalued for a more popular fandom take that’s often incorrect when compared with the text of the book anyway. it’s okay for inej to make mistakes and learn from them, just as it's okay for readers to have varied interpretations of their interactions.

#six of crows #inej ghafa #kaz brekker #kanej #grishaverse #kaz/inej #shadow and bone #mine

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blakeswritingimagines · 6 months ago

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Yesterday Seems So Far Away

Summary: Tactics and Whims in the midst of an impending war don't quite work out unless you're a throuple.

Word count: 8.3k

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Rhaenyra is sitting by a room window, staring out into a dark night, lost in her thoughts. She is clearly troubled. Her heart had been hurt countless times, and she felt like her life was spiraling out of control. She heard the door open, and she turned her head. She smiled but quickly realized that it was not one of her advisors coming to visit her with news of victories across the Seven Kingdoms. It was you and Daemon. Daemon looked at the woman before him, the two he had given his heart to and was willing to do whatever he could to protect his wives. His thoughts were in a mix as he witnessed the troubled expression and wondered what was wrong. His eyes followed her gaze, and he saw nothing but the darkness of the night outside the room. He was curious as to what had her troubled and asked softly as he sat by her side. “What is troubling you, my love..?” He asked, placing his hand on hers. “Dear, tell us what’s bothering you?” You softly asked.

Rhaenyra slowly sighed and looked at you both, her eyes were full of unshed tears. "I am worried about everything." She whispered quietly. Rhaenyra couldn't really put her feelings into words. The world seemed so fragile, and the weight of her responsibilities was overwhelming her. She was trying to make the right choices and keep everyone safe, but it just seemed like everything was falling apart. She felt like she couldn't trust anyone, and that everyone had a secret agenda. Her heart was heavy with stress and fear. The prince listened to her speak quietly. He could already tell that her stress had her mentally and physically exhausted. He was beginning to understand her thoughts, but he didn’t wish for her to feel that way. The crown was a dangerous thing that could easily swallow a person, and he could tell that was what was about to happen to Rhaenyra. “Shhh, quiet now..” Daemon whispered, stroking her soft blonde hair. “Do not let the world get to you.” He said, gently taking her into his arms. Daemon placed a comforting hand on her cheek and looked at her with eyes full of love. It was one of the worst things to see either of his wives troubled by stress. The last thing he wanted was for you two to have to suffer. “My love, listen to me, you’re doing everything you can to keep the kingdoms safe, and I’m so proud of you for that. We are always here for you, no matter what may come.” You told her softly with a reassuring smile, your hand still placed on her cheek.

Early the next morning, you were sitting on the edge of the bed, having just woken up next to Rhaenyra and Daemon. You yawned and stretched but didn't move too much so as not to disturb your partners. The events of the previous day were still fresh in your mind and you couldn't help but worry about her. Rhaenyra was always a strong woman, but you could see that she was carrying so much weight, and you hated seeing her like that. You knew that the crown must be heavy, especially now during the dance of dragons. Rhaenyra was sitting at her desk, trying to focus on the map of the Seven Kingdoms laid out before her. She was tracing her fingers across the coastlines of the Realm, studying it and trying to plan out their next move. She was clearly still consumed by her worries and responsibilities. You could see this and came up behind her, pressing a hand on Rhaenyra's shoulder.

Jacaerys and Lucerys entered the room, giving Rhaenyra a small bow. As they approached her, she could see that they looked nervous and worried. They didn't say anything, as they waited for her to speak. She immediately felt their anxiety but tried not to show it. "Is there anything you would like to tell me?" Rhaenyra asked with a soft smile. She tried to hide her own worries and fears and to be strong for her sons. Jacaerys and Lucerys exchanged a look before Lucerys spoke to her, his tone was nervous yet sincere. "We wish to volunteer to go and gather more allies…" Lucerys gulped, hesitant to say the next words. He held his breath and waited for a reply from her. Jacaerys and Lucerys looked at each other nervously again, before turning their attention back to their mother. Jacaerys spoke up finally, his voice steady as he was confident in this choice. “We have decided to go and forge alliances on our own. We have discussed it between ourselves, and we have decided to go to Storm's end and the North.” He said, speaking quickly and nervously. His eyes were fixed on everyone, waiting for a reaction.

You could feel something about Lucerys going to Storm's End, like a premonition or a bad feeling. You couldn't quite pinpoint what it was, but something about it just felt off. You decided to trust your instincts and speak up. You walked closer to Rhaenyra, wanting to pull her aside and speak with her privately. You whispered in your wife’s ear, “I have a bad feeling about Lucerys going to Storm’s End. Something just doesn't feel right about it.” Your voice was soft, yet filled with a mixture of worry and concern. You didn't want Rhaenyra to overreact, but you also felt like you had to speak up and say something. "I trust him," Rhaenyra whispered, giving your hand a squeeze as she leaned in to speak. Something about going to Storm's End just didn't feel right, but she tried to push those thoughts away. She had always taught her sons to be strong and confident, and she didn't want to undermine that by showing her own doubts. She also trusted Jacaerys to look out for his brother, and she was confident in their abilities to forge the alliances they needed.

Rhaenyra slowly turned her head to stare at Lucerys. Her face was solemn she knew that you had a good gut instinct, and she also knew that she shouldn’t ignore your concerns. She spoke carefully, trying to choose her words carefully. “But if you really feel that Lucerys shouldn’t go, then you have a good reason. Tell them. I will make adjustments in our plan.” A few more months had passed, with the tide of war slowly shifting in the Black's favor having intercepted the supplies to the Green capital. The news that came through the reports filled the couple with a sense of relief, knowing that the efforts were paying off. Rhaenyra can't help but allow herself a small smile as news of the victories comes in. The war is still far from over, but the tide is slowly turning in her favor. Having managed to intercept the supplies going to King's Landing, preventing them from reaching the Green base of operation. This means that the Green forces are stretched thin and they have a disadvantage on both land and sea. The Queen feels a sense of relief wash over her, knowing that everything is making progress. She can only hope this continues.

"I'm glad to hear about our victories. But I must admit, I'm worried about the common people. I know that we're fighting for the Throne and the Seven Kingdoms, but I can't help but think about all those people dying. And all those who lost their homes and loved ones… It breaks my heart. Do you have any idea what we can do to help them… to alleviate their suffering?" You ask your partners with a genuine concern in your voice. Rhaenyra sighs deeply as she hears your genuine concern. She understood the concern about the innocent lives caught in the crossfire of the war, it breaks her heart too. She knows that there is little that can be done now, but once winning the Crown, she intends to do as much as she can to rebuild the kingdom and help those who have suffered. "I wish there was more we could do, but for now we have to focus on fighting this war. We will rebuild when it is over, I promise." The Queen replies solemnly.

Daemon paused as he listened to your words, and a solemn expression quickly covered his face as he thought about the innocent people suffering the most from the war. He listened to you, his hands clasping your shoulder as he stared at you with a thoughtful look in his eyes as he spoke. "We have to win the war, that is the only way to stop the suffering of our subjects, that's the best way to help them." He paused for a beat before a pained expression crossed his face, "We cannot allow the Greens to win." Rhaenyra looks at you thoughtfully as you suggest doing more than their part. She appreciates the concern but also the initiative taken to help the common folks. The Queen sees the value in your efforts. Despite the war they are fighting, the Realm is still their responsibility and they must look out for the people within it. Despite not being able to act on it currently, Rhaenyra is open to exploring possible ways for them to help the common people during times of war.

Although the war has brought about great losses and suffering to the people of the Seven Kingdoms, you were determined to help them in any way you could. Over the next few weeks, you dedicated yourself to providing aid and support for the common folk, who have been hit hard by the conflict. You arrange for food and supplies to be sent to villages and towns throughout the land, providing relief for those who have been struggling as a result of the hostilities. Your efforts gain the recognition and appreciation of many of the locals and even win some of them to Rhaenyra's side. Daemon was glad to hear the news of how you were helping the common people, they were the ones taking the brunt of the war and needed all the help they could get. He had heard of how the locals were praising your actions and felt pride swell in his chest as he watched his love doing good for the people. In the weeks that followed, Daemon would join you in some of your efforts, doing all in his power to help the innocent people of the Seven Kingdoms. Both of you making sure not to let a single person go unhelped.

You paused as your thoughts were interrupted by a sudden feeling ill and your stomach had a sharp pain. This sudden sickness had struck you by surprise, and you could feel the nausea overwhelming you. You felt weak and felt the room begin to spin around you as you gripped your stomach. Both Rhaenyra and Daemon were immediately concerned when they noticed your sudden illness. Both were quick to your side and taking your hand, gently stroking it as Rhaenyra looked at you with worried eyes. "My love, what is it? Are you feeling alright? Rhaenyra said with a concerned look on her face, clearly worried for your well-being. You groaned as the nausea became overwhelming, and you gripped your stomach tighter while letting out a small cough. You managed to raise your head to look at both of them, your eyes were heavy and you looked washed out. A small sweat on your forehead, you attempted to smile at the two of them, but your efforts was in vain as you felt more ill. Daemon was by your side watching closely, his eyes filled with concern for your well-being. He placed a hand on your forehead briefly, and could feel your body burn up. "I-I'm fine."

The Queen was quick to notice the symptoms that you were experiencing. Your body temperature felt hot to the touch, along with the sweat and cough were signs enough that you weren't well. She glanced over to Daemon, their worried faces were telling enough. They knew you weren't okay. "My love, you are not fine," Rhaenyra said with concern in her voice. "Let us go see a maester about this." You nodded weakly, as you grasped tightly onto Rhaenyra's hands for the support you needed. You could barely stand up on your own, your legs were shaky and you felt as if you would faint. Despite your weakness, there was no denying how ill you were, and a maester was the only answer. Daemon supported you on one side, his hand tightly grasping yours. Rhaenyra gently wrapped her arm around you, while Daemon supported you on your other side to hold you up while they walked her to the maester's quarters. Both of your partners were concerned to see the state that you were in, it was clear that you were very ill and needed medical care. In the moments it took them to travel there, the Queen spoke softly to you. "My love, stay with me. I am right here, nothing will happen to you."

Daemon's hand grasped yours tightly as they led you through the halls, taking you toward the Grand Maester's office. As they reached the office, the Grand Maester stepped towards you, his expression concerned as he observed the condition you found yourself in. "What seems to be the problem, my Lady?" The Grand Maester asked, his eyes scanning the three of them, before narrowing at you. "Our wife has fallen ill, but we don't know with what," Daemon said, his voice serious as he watched the Grand Maester's expression. He could tell that the man's concern mirrored their own, the expression on his face was enough for him to know. You remained quiet next to him, letting out a small cough, while still clinging onto the Queen's hand. You smiled weakly as the maester approached, Rhaenyra's grip on your hands had given you some form of comfort, you were thankful that you could be able to lean on Daemon and Rhaenyra when you needed it most. Daemon's presence by your side was also a comfort, knowing that he was beside you, keeping his presence close. The maester's words alerted all of them in a quick motion, and Daemon spoke up again. "She doesn't feel well, she is nauseous and feels like she couldn't stand on her own," Daemon explained for you.

"I see." The Grand Maester's expression remained serious, observing your demeanor as you clung to your partners. His eyes darted from you to Daemon. When Daemon explained the symptoms you were experiencing, the Grand Maester sighed, before nodding to himself, as if something had just fallen in place. "May I speak with her in private, please?" The Grand Maester requested. Daemon and Rhaenyra both looked at you with concern, yet neither said anything as they awaited your response. Despite the feeling of nausea, you forced yourself to nod as the Grand Maester asked to speak with you privately. Your lips curved upward, and a weak smile was still possible on your face. You had a feeling of what the maester was going to say but decided to let him say it, you would not deny any help you were offered at this point.

The Grand Maester led you to a secluded room, away from Rhaenyra and Daemon. They all sensed the possible nature of the subject the Maester might bring up but remained silent as the two entered the room. The Grand Maester motioned for you to sit on one of the seats in the room, his look was sympathetic. "Now, dear Lady, I must ask you some questions." The Maester began, his tone was kind and patient. You sat on one of the chairs, feeling even more dizzy and ill than before, your mind was a blur and you could barely think straight. The room seemed to spin once more, and you thought you might faint. You gripped the sides of the chair, to keep still, and glanced up at the maester, feeling yourself getting tired. "Of course." You said to the maester in a small voice of your fatigue, your breath coming out in shallow rasps. The Grand Maester studied the condition you were in, with signs of nausea, weakness and fatigue. He sensed the possibility of one specific diagnosis given your symptoms. It was a diagnosis that they were all hoping it wasn't true right now, but deep down, they knew it could possibly that. "My Lady…" The Maester began again. "When was the last time you had your moon's blood?"

You paused for a moment, struggling to recollect your memories, it was all a bit of a blur to you due to the large fight taking place. You were exhausted at this point, even thinking was taking a toll on you. But you remembered, it had been a while since you had last had your moon's blood, far too long than it should have been. "I don't remember exactly, but it has been some time. Why?" You asked the maester with a faint look of confusion, feeling the weakness wash over you. The Grand Maester knew that he had his answer. His expression turned somber and his voice lowered to a somber tone. He didn't want to deliver the news, but someone had to. The Maester could only see the sorrowful and concerned faces when he revealed the truth. "Dear Lady," He began again. "My guess is that there might be a possibility that you are with a child. Do not lose hope, however, my Lady, my examination was not definite. I shall perform some tests and will confirm it."

When the Grand Maester emerged from the small room when the tests were done, his expression was grim, and the faces of Daemon and Rhyraena were also somber. Daemon was watching the maester with a keen eye, he was still on high alert, but he knew deep down the maester would confirm what he already feared. "The Lady of Dragonstone is pregnant with a child." The Maester spoke, and both Daemon and Rhaenyra remained silent as if they were still unable to accept it. They had suspected as much, but the confirmation made it even more real for them. The tense atmosphere remained, as they remained with the silent news for a few moments. Daemon took the lead again, as he took a step toward the Grand Maester. "How far along is she?" He asked with a solemn expression, his eyes fixed on the Maester. The Grand Maester looked back to Daemon, he saw the genuine concern and care for his partner in his eyes. Despite the severity of the situation, he had a sense of understanding that Daemon and Rhaenyra wanted to be there for their wife during the pregnancy. The Maester was quick to give your partners the information he found of your pregnancy. "She is about three months along, we can say she is halfway there." the Maester answered in a serious tone that matched Daemon's as he kept his gaze low.

The two of them entered the room with a sense of quietness to them, both of them were filled with concern and worry, and their steps were gentle as they walked towards you. You were no doubt in a fragile state of your pregnancy and their presence could only be a form of comfort to you at this point. Their eyes scanned the room as they approached, the room was quiet except for your soft breathing. You were still seated in one of the chairs in the room, you were clearly in a fragile state given your exhaustion and nausea. You kept your breaths slow and deep, you could still feel some nausea, but the feeling was slowly beginning to lessen. You could hear Daemon and Rhaenyra slowly approaching, their presence alone was enough to calm you down. Your eyes met theirs as they approached, you took note of the worry in their eyes and the gentleness with which they treated you. You were grateful for their presence. Each of you was filled with worry and concern, the pregnancy felt more real than ever - which was a blessing, but the thought of bearing a child under such circumstances was both a blessing and a curse. Your thoughts were mixed, and your mind was still foggy from the news. "I don't wish anyone to find out yet."

The two of them could feel the fatigue and discomfort that which you were facing, and so they remained a good distance from you, trying to avoid causing you any discomfort. Daemon understood the concern about the news being released to the world, so he did not want to rush into releasing the news so soon. He knew you were still in a delicate place, and wanted to ensure your well-being. Rhaenyra spoke gently to you. "We understand, no one shall learn the news until you are feeling better, we will tell no one our news." She said with a reassuring smile. "We would never tell anyone about this, your secret is safe with us," Daemon replied to you, your concern was evident through your expression and his voice held a level of kindness as he spoke, Daemon knew the stress and exhaustion that came with the news and decided to try and calm you down. The Greens were bound to know the news, after all, the Grand Maester could not keep such a thing hidden for long. This news had been leaked to the Greens, and then it had spread like wildfire across the Seven Kingdoms, and the Green faction had all the more reason to oppose you now. The people loved that you three were having a child, especially in this situation. Your pregnancy was seen as a blessing by the little people, the Greens hated it, but the small folks were praising it.

The small folk praised the pregnancy, not only for the reason that it was a blessing for you, Rhaenyra, and Daemon's marriage, but also because it symbolized the new era and new hope that would come with the child. The small folk would stand by the Black side, for you were the ones offering hope and prosperity to the common people. You were aware that Greens would oppose your pregnancy, but they could not deny its potential and the possibility of a new hope it brought with it. The child carried within you would change the entire scope of the conflict. The Greens are clearly dissatisfied with the news, in fact, the Greens find themselves completely appalled at the news. The knowledge of a child only made it more certain that they would oppose the Blacks, for this would be an outright declaration to crown Rhaenyra as Queen.

Otto attempts to sway the people back to their side, he tries everything to sway them away from the Blacks. However, the people were unwavering in their devotion to your pregnancy, and the Blacks, did not heed his words and simply ignored Otto. The Black supporters would have their devotion to the Blacks further confirmed, and would find themselves even more set in their choice to defend your pregnancy and support the Blacks. Larys would mention that he had a possible spy named Ada, which was no secret, as everyone knew about his network of spies across the seven kingdoms. He would go on to further mention how he was able to influence the thoughts of people and alter their views possiably, using this method to his advantage he would propose using the spy to sway some of the people's favor. He would offer his services to Otto as the two planned on how to combat the growing support for the Blacks and the unborn child.

Ada had infiltrated one of the inns near Dragonstone where the Black's supporters would often gather to exchange information and show their support for the Black's cause. The spy observes the people of the inn, noting down the conversations and thoughts, and listening to the concerns and what the perceptions of the Greens were. Particularly watching out for any whispers or conversations concerning your pregnancy, and how the common people felt about it. She would report all the findings back to Otto. During the next few weeks, the spy worked late into the night in the kitchens, before slipping some poison into the tea secretly, she managed to do it discreetly, slipping it inside the cup of tea that she had learned was part of your nightly routine without anyone suspecting anything. Delivering it to you before being dismissed for the night just to quickly leave without a second thought. You were feeling quite a bit better after resting for a while, you had no more nausea and the feeling of exhaustion was slowly beginning to lessen slightly. However, you still felt a little weak, the fatigue was still evident in your expression. You were currently sitting on one of the chairs in your shared room, trying to remain comfortable as you did so. You were not feeling as terrible as before but were still in a fragile state.

You had drank the tea given to you, unaware of the poisonous properties, and slowly you were suffering from the effects of the poison slowly spreading throughout your body. You began to experience discomfort and nausea again, with chills beginning to set in. You began to feel weak and lightheaded, and your fatigue became more profound. Rhaenyra and Daemon would find you sick and in an almost unconscious state, the pregnancy had weakened you already, and now the poison made things worse. Rhaenyra and Daemon's faces both turned grim, and their expressions grew solemn as they saw your fragile state of health when they entered the room. The exhaustion and fatigue were evident within you, along with the slight nausea and chills that were setting in. Your weak and lightheaded state caused greater concern for both of them, the pregnancy had already been taking its toll on you, and they feared what might happen to you and the unborn child. "We have to get the grandmaester right away," Daemon spoke firmly, taking note of your state. He could see the sudden sickness taking root and growing stronger and stronger, and the more time it had, the worse the effects would become. His words seemed to indicate that he had a gut feeling about how serious this could be, and a sense of urgency began to manifest in him.

They both knew they needed a Maester, to examine and attend their partner. Both Daemon & Rhaenyra frantically ordered a Grandmaester to come immediately. It was their worst fear realized, but they had to act quickly. You and the unborn child were suffering from the effects, they could not afford to lose you both. The order for a Maester had been heeded, and the Grand Maester soon entered the room and moved towards you. Daemon and Rhaenyra remained aside as the Maester examined you, they were both still in a state of panic, they prayed the Grand Maester would have good news for them, that he would be able to save you and the unborn child. Their hope remained that a maester would have knowledge that could cure you without harming the child. Both you and the baby meant the world to them. The Grand Maester examined you, observing your symptoms of fatigue, exhaustion, weakness, nausea and chills. The poison was slowly taking hold of your body and was the most likely culprit of your current condition, the poison was spreading in your system at rapid pace. The Grand Maester, in all of his knowledge, knew that the poison was not an easy matter to deal with, but he had to find a way to cure it without harming you or the babe. Knowing your safety and well-being was foremost in everyone's mind, most importantly in the minds of Rhaenyra and Daemon.

The Grand Maester worked immediately to counteract the poison, attempting to find an antidote or remedy that could neutralize it enough without harming you or your child. The curing process was risky and difficult, especially given the fragility of their partner and the pregnancy, so the Grand Maester had to be extra cautious to not make the effects worse. Rhaenyra and Daemon watched in silence, their eyes were fixed on the Grand Maester with intensity as the process took place. Their expressions were stoic yet worried, trying to keep strong for not only you but also their unborn child. The Grand Maester's efforts to counteract the poison continued for what seemed like ages. He worked tirelessly, monitoring both you and the unborn child's health to ensure the safety was not further compromised. After a significant period, he finally managed to find an antidote that effectively counteracted the poison's effects. He proceeded to administer the remedy, carefully observing your condition and waiting to see the impact it had on your health and the baby's.

The Grand Maester managed to find an effective antidote that helped counter the effects of the poison, allowing you to begin to recover. It took time, and the Grand Maester had to monitor your condition closely, making sure the antidote did not have any adverse effects. Daemon and Rhaenyra remained present in the room, watching intently as you began to show signs of recovery. Rhaenyra's expression relaxed, her tense demeanor from before had eased somewhat and she seemed more hopeful. As your condition improves, Rhaenyra realizes the need to find out what happened and how the poison ended up in your tea. She looks at Daemon and quietly speaks to him. "My love, we need to find out how this happened. Find out who put poison in our dearest's tea. The culprit must be found and brought to justice. Daemon nodded his head, knowing the gravity of the situation. He understood the need to get to the bottom of it.

Daemon nodded in agreement as he listened to Rhaenyra's words, he knew she was right. They needed to find out what happened and who was responsible for putting poison in their partner's tea. His expression hardened as he considered the gravity of the situation. He knew what needed to be done…the culprit needed to be found and brought to justice, and he was determined to do just that. "I'll find out who did this," Daemon said sternly as he locked eyes with Rhaenyra, his determination and anger were evident in his voice.

The atmosphere was tense as the Black Council gathered, the events that had taken place left an uneasy feeling over the group that lingered in the air. No one could deny the gravity that loomed over them as they all assembled, some faces looked tired, some still held an expression of anger and some showed relief. The Black Council had gathered amidst the storm of chaos, their conversations now held an air of importance. Rhaenyra sat at the head of the Black Council table, her expression stoic and filled with a sense of authority. She surveyed the group and the faces of her trusted council members, she could see the varying emotions on their faces as they sat before her. From the tired expressions to the ones full of anger and relief. Her eyes flicked between each and every one of them, waiting to hear their reports on the current situation.

As you made your entrance into the room, the atmosphere was immediately filled with an air of solemnness and tension. Though you were supposed to be resting, you couldn't stay away as you were compelled by guilt for what happened. The coldness and detachment in your expression didn't go unnoticed as you joined the Black Council, and Daemon and Rhaenyra, despite being relieved that you looked better, were concerned about your behavior and well-being. Despite your exhaustion and the recent events that had taken place, was present and sat between Daemon and Rhaenyra at the table. Your expression was cold and distant as you looked over the other members of the Black Council, your eyes lacked the warmth that was usually present. Your gaze was firm and determined, but there was a sense of pain lingering beneath the surface.

Daemon moved toward you, his expression filled with concern. He knew you were supposed to be resting, but here you were, showing up to the Black Council meeting and acting cold. He could tell you felt guilty for what had happened, and it was clear you needed rest and time to recover, but he knew you felt compelled to be here as well. He gently took hold of your arm, attempting to pull you aside for a moment. Seeing the cold expression on your face and the firmness in your eyes, Daemon couldn't help but immediately go to you, he reached out and gently grasped your arm, his voice filled with genuine concern. "Darling…you should be resting," he said gently, looking at you as if pleading with you, trying to persuade you to let them take care of things. You looked up at Daemon for a brief moment, your gaze softening for a moment. You understood his concern for you and the baby, you could see it in his eyes. Despite the firmness on your face, you couldn't help but feel the need to be here in the Black Council meeting even in your weakened state. You nodded your head in acknowledgment of Daemon's words of concern, but you gently placed your hand on his, silently reassuring him that you wanted to be here before you sat down. Your tone filled with a fierce sense of determination to be in the meeting. Your words were sharp, leaving no room for debate. "I will rest when the matter is handled. Until then, I will need to be here. Please do not fret over me, my love," you said firmly to him, your voice filled with a certain authority.

Daemon looked back at you with a mixture of concern and a reluctant acceptance. He could see the determination in your eyes, and he knew that nothing would change your mind. He nodded to you, reluctantly at first, but then with a sense of understanding. "Very well then," he said with a sigh, his eyes softening slightly as he took your hand in his. He understood how important this was to you, and he didn't want to add to your stress. Later on into the night as you lay there, sandwiched between Daemon and Rhaenyra, you could feel a mix of emotions swirling within you. The events of the day had been a rollercoaster of anxiety, concern, and uncertainty. However, being close to your partners, their bodies providing warmth and a sense of security, made you feel a little more at ease but couldn't seem to quiet your mind like normal causing you to get up carefully and step closer to the window. Daemon and Rhaenyra were both sleeping peacefully, oblivious to your turmoil. They seemed content, but you were too worried to sleep like they were, you had a weight on your shoulders, and it was keeping you up at night. Daemon stirred slightly as you stepped closer to the window, his eyes flickering open for a moment before he saw you standing alone. He silently sat up in bed, watching you with a look of concern.

Seeing you standing alone by the window, Daemon could feel the tension emanating from you. He slipped out of bed and approached you, his movements gentle and deliberate. He stood behind you with a sense of concern and understanding, his hand reaching out to touch your shoulder. "What's troubling you? Why can't you sleep?" Daemon asked you gently, his voice tinged with worry. He hated seeing you so troubled and wanted to help alleviate your pain if you'd let him. The feeling of Daemon's touch was grounding. You leaned into his touch, feeling a sense of comfort in his presence. You took a deep breath and turned your head slightly to look at him as you responded to his question. "It's the incident, the poison that was put in the tea… the thought that someone could do that to me, to us… it's troubling," you admitted softly, your voice laced with a hint of vulnerability. His expression darkened as you explained your worries about the incident and the poison. Daemon gently drew you closer to him, wrapping his arms around you in a protective embrace as a sense of anger and protectiveness took over his features. He hated it as much as you did, and he wanted nothing more than to shield you from any harm. "I know…I know," he said, holding you close, his voice filled with a mixture of sympathy and anger. "But I will not let anything come to you. Neither will Rhaenyra. We will keep you safe, I promise."

You allowed herself to be enveloped in his embrace, finding comfort in his protective hold. You nodded in understanding, knowing that Daemon and Rhaenyra's support and protection meant a lot to you. However, there was a flicker of a small, wry smile on your face as you responded softly. "I don't doubt your determination, my love," you said, your voice filled with affection, your eyes glinting with a hint of playfulness. "But… you do understand I'm not a damsel in distress. I can protect myself too, you know." Daemon couldn't help but chuckle at your words, his expression softening slightly as he felt a sense of admiration for your determination. He grinned as he replied, a note of affection in his voice. "Oh, darling, I know you can protect yourself. You're a force to be reckoned with, but let us take care of the problem, yes?" He reached out to caress your cheek, his eyes filled with a mixture of love and respect. "We just want to keep you safe. You and our child." Daemon couldn't help but chuckle softly as you spoke, acknowledging your determination and strength. He knew you were no damsel in distress, and he recognized your ability to take care of yourself. "I know you can protect yourself," he said with a wry smile, his eyes gleaming with admiration. "Yet I will always want to guard and protect you. Our enemies will rue the day they ever threatened you or our unborn child," he said, a touch of steel creeping into his voice.

A small smile tugged at your lips as you heard Daemon's reply. You reached up to place your hand over his, holding it against your cheek. "You do love being the knight rescuing the fair lady," you teased, your voice filled with affection and a hint of teasing. "Thank you, my love. I am lucky to have your protection," you added, a flicker of sincere appreciation shining in your eyes. Daemon chuckled at your remark, enjoying your teasing banter. He gently pressed a kiss to your cheek, a soft and tender gesture. "Aye, rescuing fair maidens is just one of many of my talents," he responded with a wry smile. His expression grew more serious as you thanked him for his protection. His eyes held a gentle and caring gaze as he looked at you, his hand squeezing yours softly. "And I'm always here to protect those I love. You and our unborn child are my priority." The atmosphere in the room suddenly shifted, becoming more intimate and serious. Your eyes locked onto Daemon's, a flicker of regret and sincerity shining through. "Daemon," you started, your voice low and sincere. "I want to apologize. For earlier, for distancing myself and being cold. I should have let you in more, and I'm sorry for not considering your feelings. You're more than just my lover; you're my partner, my confidant. And I value your support immensely."

Daemon's expression softened as he listened to your words, his gaze filled with a mix of understanding and affection. He could sense the sincerity behind your apology and the regret in your voice. "Darling…I appreciate your apology, and I accept it. I understand that you've been under a lot of stress and going through a lot. But please, from now on, let me in. Share your worries and thoughts with me. You are never a burden to Nyra or me, and I want to be there for you, just like you are for Rhaenyra and me," he said, his voice gentle and sincere. You felt a pang of guilt in your heart, knowing that your distance had affected your partners as well. You reached out and gently took his hand, intertwining your fingers. "I will. I promise. I'll try not to shut you out and keep everything inside. From now on, we'll face everything together, as a team."

The months had gone by, and your pregnancy proceeded smoothly. As the time drew closer to your due date, you were constantly checked and monitored by the Grand Maester, given how risky the poison had been for you and the baby. Rhaenyra and Daemon never left your side; their constant presence provided you with comfort and reassurance. As the day of childbirth approached, your contractions grew more intense, and soon enough, you were ushered into the birthing room by the midwife and Grand Maester. In the birthing room, the atmosphere was tense as the midwife and Grand Maester prepared you for childbirth. Daemon and Rhaenyra stood by your side, their hands tightly clutching yours as you went through each contraction, offering their support and doing everything they could to try and soothe your pain. He whispered words of encouragement, his voice filled with love and worry. You squeezed Daemon's hand tightly, your grip almost painful but he did not flinch. Rhaenyra took a wet towel and wiped your forehead gently, whispering words of encouragement and support as well. “You’re doing well, sweet girl,” Rhaenyra's voice was steady and calming. “Just breathe through it, just like we practiced.” Daemon winced slightly as you squeezed his hand tightly during the contraction but held strong, his gaze filled with a mix of worry and admiration for his love's strength.

"You're an absolute warrior, darling," he said to you tenderly, his voice filled with awe and pride. Rhaenyra continued to wipe your forehead with the warm towel, her whispered words of encouragement filling the room with a sense of reassurance and love. She whispered soothing words and guided you with her words, supporting you through each contraction. You took deep breaths, feeling the pain and contractions growing more intense. You gritted your teeth as you shook your head, your grip on Daemon's hand never faltering. "I… I don't know if I can do this. It’s too much…" you managed to gasp out, your voice filled with a hint of despair. Then, you let out a low groan as your body tensed with another painful contraction. As the contractions grew more intense, Daemon tightened his grip on your hand, his heart clenching in worry and solidarity. "You can do this," he spoke firmly, his gaze locked onto you. "You're one of the strongest people I know, and you've got this. Just a little bit longer," he said, his voice filled with determination and belief in your strength.

The Grand Maester observed your condition closely, the pain and exhaustion evident on your face. The contractions were growing in intensity, and he could tell the childbirth would be difficult and dangerous. He turned to Rhaenyra and Daemon, his voice filled with concern and caution. "My Queen, my Prince, I fear the baby is in distress and the contractions are growing too painful. We may need to consider a cesarean section to ensure the safe delivery of both the mother and the babe," the Grandmaster said cautiously. Hearing the suggestion, your eyes widened and flashed with a mix of fear and defiance. You vehemently shook your head and protested against it. "No... No, I refuse," you gasped out, your voice a mix of pain and determination. As the Grand Maester spoke, both Daemon and Rhaenyra immediately tensed, worry etched across their faces. Rhaenyra's grip on your hand tightened, Daemon's heart filling him with dread and anxiety. He glanced at Rhaenyra before turning back to you with a mixture of worry and understanding. "Darling, the Grand Maester only wants what's best for you and the baby," he said softly, his voice tinged with concern. "Please, darling. Let's consider all options to ensure a safe delivery."

After refusing the c-section, you insisted on giving birth naturally. You ordered the Grand Maester out of the room and had the midwives fill a warm tub with water. Once everything was prepared, you let yourself be helped into the water, your body finding a little relief from the pain as the water gently cradled you. You reached out for Daemon's hand, your grip tight, while Rhaenyra remained by your side, ready to support you. Daemon turned to you, his voice filled with love and worry. "My love, do you truly want to go through this without the Grand Maester's assistance? The risk…" Once you finally allowed yourself to get into the water, you felt a slight relief from the intense contractions as the warm water enveloped you. Your grip on Daemon's hand tightened further, squeezing it firmly as though seeking his strength through your own. Rhaenyra stayed by your side as well, her presence a silent comfort and support for you. The midwives had left the room, leaving the three of them alone. Daemon's voice, laced with worry, rang out as he questioned your decision.

You nodded your head resolutely, your eyes filled with determination and resolve. "Yes, Daemon," you said softly, your voice betraying your pain. "I want to try to do this without the Grand Maester's assistance. I trust you and Rhaenyra to help me through. I know the risk, but I have faith in us. We can do this together." As the hours passed and your contractions intensified, the pain becoming almost unbearable, you began to waver in your decision. "I… I don't know if I can do this, my love…" you gasped out, your voice filled with despair. Yet, you steeled yourself and shook your head, your expression determined. "But… I have to." Daemon squeezed your hand, his expression one of love and encouragement. "You can do it, my love. Just a little more. You're almost there." After what felt like an eternity, the room filled with the sound of a wailing baby. Rhaenyra carefully placed the newborn baby, a healthy baby girl with tufts of blonde hair, in your arms. Tired but relieved smiles spread across their faces as they witness the arrival of their child.

Daemon stared down at the newborn child in your arms, his eyes filled with a mixture of awe, wonder, and a profound sense of overwhelming love. He reached out, gently cradling the baby's head in his hand, his touch filled with tender adoration. His gaze flicked between the baby's face and yours, his heart swelling with an unquantifiable amount of love and pride. As the sound of the newborn's cry filled the room, a wave of relief washed over Daemon and Rhaenyra. Rhaenyra looked at you and the infant with a mixture of love and wonder in your eyes, your own exhaustion mixed with the radiant joy of a mother. Daemon's eyes widened in awe and pride, his fingers tracing gently over the baby's soft skin. "You did it, sweet girl," Daemon whispered tenderly to you, his voice filled with admiration and love. "She's…. perfect."

Tears streamed down your face as you held their newborn daughter in your arms, your expression filled with a mixture of exhaustion, joy, and awe. You looked up at Daemon and Rhaenyra, your voice filled with overwhelming emotions. "She's here… she… she's real." You whispered, your voice choked with tears. You held the precious baby girl in your trembling arms, feeling a well of love and joy, unlike anything you had ever experienced before. Rhaenyra's heart swelled with pure joy and love as she watched the tender scene unfolding before her. She gently placed a hand on your shoulder, her voice filled with tender contentment. "Yes… she's real, and she's beautiful," Rhaenyra spoke softly, her gaze flickering between you and the tiny bundle of joy they had brought into the world. Daemon's eyes softened as he watched the scene unfold, his heart filled with an inexplicable love and gratitude. He reached out and gently brushed a stray strand of damp hair away from your forehead, his touch tender and filled with affection. "She is real. She's ours," he whispered, his voice filled with a mixture of warmth and a hint of awe. Rhaenyra leaned in closer, her own eyes gleaming with adoration and love as she gently wrapped her arms around you, creating a tight embrace.

As the three of them embraced, cherishing the precious moment together, Daemon leaned in close and whispered in your ear. "I am in awe of you, my love. Your strength, your determination… you're a force of nature. And now we have this beautiful, miraculous girl, all because of you. I will forever count myself lucky to have you ladies in my life." You leaned into the embrace, letting the exhaustion and joy wash over you. You were overwhelmed by the love and adoration that filled the room, the feeling of your family surrounding you creating an indescribable sense of fulfillment. You looked down at the newborn daughter, your eyes filled with love and wonder. You gently caressed the baby's soft cheek, your touch filled with a mother's tender adoration.

"I love you, sweet girl."

#house of the dragon #daemon x rhaenyra #rhaenyra targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen x reader #daenyra #daenyra x reader #hotd fanfic #hotd

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knight-says-rollout · 2 years ago

Note

Would you mind telling us about more disabled Cybertronians?

Oh boy would I

For this list let’s focus on physical disabilities, both because they’re the most commonly dismissed by the fandom and bc if we try to cover everything we’d be here all day (that can be another list, maybe, if y’all want)

This isn’t going to be comprehensive bc I’m tired but!! I will aim for a broad variety of examples nonetheless

Bumblebee - You all know him, you all love him. He’s the most obvious and most well known example of a disabled Cybertronian character.

In many iterations he is mute

Not by choice but because he lacks a voice box. Bee physically isn’t capable of speech and depending on the version has different tools to work around that. Sometimes he uses his radio to repurpose song and radio dialogue into speech, in cyberverse he also makes use of the internet for clips. In the aligned continuity (tfp and connected media) he speaks in binary, a very simplified form of language using beeps and buzzes, but still lacks a real voice and can’t form words.

In IDW he has a cane

At one point in the comics Bumblebee was shot by a human protester and as a result used a cane for a good bit of time. I haven’t had the chance to read that far into IDW yet so I’m not sure how long he had the cane for but it was enough time that it’s a solidified part of the charcaters history. I’ve seen little models of the cane for sale, to be paired with bee figures.

TFP Ultra Magnus - everyone’s favorite awkward commander, despite his popularity he’s surprisingly overlooked when it comes to this discussion

An amputee, he lost his hand

During an energon raid with wheeljack, magnus’ hand was crushed. Ratchet couldn’t save it and had to amputate, replacing it with a hooked prosthetic. I call it a prosthetic rather than replacement part because despite him being able to move it, it’s not a hand. Not in the way he had previously, and he has to relearn how to use it at all.

I think that’s an important distinction to make when discussing disability and transformers. Some bots might have only ever had one hand, or no legs, or etc but that’s always been their level of ability and since they Are robotic. Yeah they might not have the same capabilities as another bot but that’s a hard metric to go by. Seekers can fly but a grounder isn’t disabled because they can’t fly too, it’s a different standard.

WFC Shamble - far lesser known than Magnus, and reasonably so, this background character is Also missing a limb

Amputee, leg edition

His prosthetic is a lot less fancy than magnus’s, it’s a simple peg leg. Put em together and you get a pirate. Not much to say about him since i don’t know how he lost the leg, just that he did.

Shadow Striker - Most awesome lady in cyberverse. Unlike the above two, she Was able to get actual replacement parts rather than prosthetics. Despite this, she is both shown throughout the show and implied to have

Impaired mobility

Chronic pain

She was able to get replacement parts yes but they were needed because she was blown up. The limbs she was given were kinda just what the others could Find and as such are mismatched and don’t fit her very well. Her motor skills took a blow especially when it comes to combat, something she used to excel in. Her new limbs are described as unstable and prone to malfunction. The loss of mobility and implied chronic pain that come along with her situation are rough, but she makes do.

SG Soundwave - my favorite little guy, he’s in a bit of a different situation than the previous.

Bad Joints ™

His body was entirely overhauled multiple times, successfully, but the latest frame change was done with conflicting metals. Earth and Cybertronian materials clash in his joints, making them prone to getting stopped up. The most affected hinge being the one on the door to his tape deck. It is so prone to getting stuck that his cassettes refuse to dock with him at risk of getting trapped. To work around this, Soundwave has the aid of a personalized case he carries around that they dock in instead.

IDW Sunstreaker - speaking of assistive devices, this guy was (for a time) a wheelchair user! Or,, hoverchair.

Temporary,,, paraplegic? Correct me if another term fits better

Taking this moment for an aside to say hey!! Lookit that, both canes and hoverchairs are things that canonically and casually exist on cybertron!! It’s not too wild to assume there are bots out there who use them long term!! Yes both characters on this list were repaired eventually but they’re also both very popular old characters from an action based franchise and hasbro doesn’t have the balls to make something like that permanent yet. We the fandom are not hasbro. We can do whatever we damn want with our OCs. It’s canon that ur little guy can use mobility aids.

Ok, PSA over, anyway yeah Sunny’s body was basically wrecked and alpha trion was able to repair all of him except his legs. This put him in a hoverchair for a good amount of time.

Finback - he’s a con, a pirate, who developed a “metal wasting disease”

He’s on permanent life support

The disease is going to kill him eventually, and it’s explicitly stated that he’s come to terms with the idea of his death. In the meantime he’s using pretender tech, kinda like fancy armor, to reinforce himself and boost his immune system

Perceptor - for a microscope, the fact he’s got vision issues in multiple continuities is kinda ironic

He’s fully blind in cyberverse

He lost an eye in IDW

Between the two we get to see both routes taken to work with this. Adaption and technological aid. In cyberverse he uses his scope to compensate for the loss of vision Toph-style. In IDW he built himself a monocle that basically replaces the pieces that are missing.

Now we get into the uniquely Cybertronian disabilities, one’s that don’t quite translate to human conditions

Transmutate - is a beloved bot from beast wars

They can’t transform, they don’t have an alt mode

I’m hazy on the details of their character but afaik they came from a damaged stasis pod. Described as deformed and handicapped for their both their lack of an alt mode and general appearance, they are probably the oldest explicitly disabled Cybertronian character

Xaaron - from G1 is in a similar situation

He can’t transform, it would kill him

Unlike transmutate he does have an alt mode, a tank, but after thousands of years without transforming he is no longer able to. The new stress it would cause on his body would kill him.

Broadside - continuing with the subject of alt modes, this clumsy boy is a boat! That’s not a good thing.

He’s very prone to motion sickness

As you can imagine, chronic sea sickness isn’t the most helpful thing when you are the boat. This brings in the entirely new element of mobility issues that are inherent to alt modes. A bot that functions fine in root form might not in alt mode and vice versa.

Trailbreaker - is another instance of this. He’s not a fast car by any means but that doesn’t stop the fact

His frame has a very high energon cost

Possibly the least fuel efficient autobot, he’s got an outlier ability on top of it all that only further increases his required energon intake. He needs to pay more attention to his energon levels and refuel more often overall.

G1 Knockout - yes that’s right the shiny medic himself is on this list, though not for the same reason as his tfp version, g1 knockout still lives up to his name

He’s prone to fainting

A knockout in the more literal sense, he faints when he gets too excited. Fully collapses and everything. Since he’s a fall risk, his teammates take care to keep an eye on him.

Annnnd Yknow he probably should’ve been earlier in the list along with the “human-ish” issues but I’m tired, it’s late, and I’m bringing this list to a close

Im sure there are more characters that I didn’t mention but I hope this helped! Thank you for the ask

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absolutehomosexuals · 2 months ago

Text

The Infamous "Durge Is a Man" Essay

I - INTRODUCTION

There's one simple question that led us to developing this theory: "would Bhaal want a female heir?"

Bhaal created Durge to be his ideal successor: the hand who would've reaped death in the world, conquering it in His name.

Every detail we get about Durge's lore is tied to this objective, the entire purpose of Bhaal's creation.

The cult is obviously shown to us as patriarchal, which is hinted at from the sole fact they worship a male deity: the argument may come off as silly at first, since one could argue Gods do not understand nor care for the concepts of gender.

It would be a valid counterpoint, if it wasn't for the fact Bhaal used to be a human, having navigated the world as a fully grown man before he eventually became a God.

If we believe he created Durge in his ideal image, it seems much more intuitive for his offspring to be male.

II - THE MATTER OF SUCCESSION

We must note that Bhaal's plans heavily rely (as we can read in Durge's "diary" tab) on reproduction ; e.g "siring lots of Bhaalspawn".

This alone isn't coded as one sex or the other but, if we think of it in terms of convenience, a female heir wouldn't be your first choice for the task: women can only gestate one child per year and conceive in very specific windows of time within their cycle, while men can potentially impregnate countless women in the same time span and not suffer any physical disadvantages during gestation.

We should also consider women tend to develop a bond with their newborn and the latter needs to rely on them for survival during the first few months of their life, while a man:

1. has no such obligations from a social point view (especially in a medieval context, where bastard children were the norm)

2. isn't strictly needed by the child for survival, biologically speaking.

I doubt Bhaal was expecting his heir to keep track of her cycle, gestate for nine months with all the drawbacks that come with it, give birth risking death and spend the following months caring for a newborn – all of this, on repeat for years if not centuries.

"But he's a God, he could potentially speed up the process!"

Technically true, but why would he go through such trouble, if he could craft his ideal child as a male and avoid complications?

The game itself seems to agree with this theory, since you get the "Bhaal's stallion" line regardless of your Durge's gender, in one of the bad endings.

We could also consider the idea that reproduction = power, "spreeding the seed", to be a typically patriarchal concept.

Bhaal himself isn't fond of the idea of raising children, as he let Durge be raised by an adoptive family – a "regular" one no less, meaning he didn't even concern himself with choosing one.

III - IN-UNIVERSE MYSOGINY

There are many aspects of the religion that seem to glorify manhood, and for its leader to be a woman (by Bhaal's choice, no less) seems inconsistent.

Let's think of the infamous blessing granted to Bhaal's favourites, the Ecstasy of Murder, which basically consists in a pseudo prostatic orgasm.

Then we consider the presence of predominantly-male sexual crimes, both coming from Durge and other important figures within the cult.

We cannot deny necrophilia, for functional reasons, is extremely uncommon amongst women: necrophilic acts are typically carried out by penetrating a dead body, as it's almost the only pleasurable act you can perform on a corpse ; Durge being a known necrophiliac pre-lobotomy could be one of the many hints the character is meant to be read as male.

Not to mention the horrendous way in which Bhaalist female characters are treated in-universe, between Sarevok sexually abusing his daughter (and this concept being treated as completely normal by the narrative, as far as we know of) and Orin being constantly belittled.

We never hear of any male cultists undergoing the same treatment, meaning abusing women is the norm amongst Bhaal's faithful – yet again, a telltale sign of a patriarchal religion.

"But Orin isn't mistreated because of her sex, she's mistreated because she's not the true heir!"

Orin is, indeed, not Bhaal's biological daughter: she's related to Him by blood, but as Durge himself says, her blood is "diluted".

However, while he acknowledges she's not his biological sister, he still addresses her as such in multiple sources, meaning the cult leader himself doesn't care about her actual origins.

She's constantly portrayed as someone who gets talked down to, cast aside and her beliefs are harshly criticized both by Durge and others influential members such as Sarevok.

For Larian to choose a woman to fill this role could have been accidental, but we must admit the symbolism is quite clear.

Orin interprets murder as a form of art, while her Bhaalist peers frequently accuse of her misunderstanding her own faith, considering her too immature to lead the flock.

She's the only Bhaalist female character we're shown as remarkable, and she's coincidentally used as an example of someone the cult does not respect ; she's even biologically related to Bhaal and yet, she had to seize power by force.

IV - ROMANTIC SUBTEXTS

Another interesting matter are the characters commonly paired with Durge in fanworks: Durgetash and Durgestarion are the most popular romantic pairings according to ao3, and we cannot blame the fandom for catching up on the subtext.

Durge's "admiration" (as he calls it himself) towards Gortash is viewed as controversial and arises suspicion in-universe, to the point he feels the need to apologize to his Father and repent for an implicit sin.

While it would be scandalous to fraternize with Gortash even in a platonic matter – he's practically the leader of the rival cult –, the emphasis put on justifying their interactions has been interpreted by fans as romantic subtext.

The letter in which Durge addresses the issue is titled "Letter for Forgiveness", despite Gortash only being mentioned at the beginning, while the rest of the letter focuses on different topics entirely.

Right after expressing guilt for the way he views Gortash, Durge proceeds to repeat Bhaal's plan and promises to follow it, stressing that he would have made his Father proud regardless.

The letter overall comes off as an attempt to justify being attracted to Gortash and reassuring Bhaal that it wouldn't come in the way of their plans, as it would pose an enormous threat otherwise.

Durge being attracted to Gortash – if we choose to interpret him as a man – would come with a handful of important challenges: first of all, sympathizing with the 'enemy', implying Durge could abandon the idea of betraying him or even allow Gortash to do the same to him.

Second of all, being capable of such vulnerability that would come in the way of being a sentient weapon: a killing machine isn't supposed to feel pity, let alone experience something as foolish as forbidden love.

And thirdly, for Bhaal's heir to prefer the company of men is simply a disgrace, as it would come in the way of reproduction and possibly undermine his public image.

While all of this may have not been meant as a homosexual allegory, the fact you can find the Letter for Forgiveness on Durge's corpse if you play as Tav, still comes off as "bringing a secret to the grave".

Not to mention the note at the end of the letter, written by another cultist, reading: "Ha! Orin was right about her sibling." which is clearly a jab at what we mentioned above.

When you go to confront Orin in Act III (as Durge) about the fact she has been following you around town, she replies: "The little lordling has been whispering in your ears? He always knew how to tumble and twist your mind matter, leaving you knotted in his chords."

The matter of Durge's attraction to Gortash is seen as something silly and shameful at the same time: it's an open secret cult members dare to joke about, because they find it ridiculous.

If a hypothetical female heir of Bhaal had the slightest possibility of reproducing with the Chosen of Bane, I'm pretty sure they wouldn't find it as humorous – they find it hilarious because it's taboo, a powerful demigod developing a "school crush" on a male ally.

We should also talk about some of the in-game implications about Gortash, such as being someone who possibly "slept his way to the top": managing to charm and daze a much more powerful man on purpose sounds surprisingly in-character.

What we find even more interesting are the implications that come with Durgestarion, a pairing the writers are openly fond of.

We know both characters were characterized by the same writer, the latter going out of his way to include personalized romance interactions between the two: unlike other characters, romancing Astarion as Durge gives the player access to tons of new dialogue lines and greetings, sometimes making for a completely new experience compared to romancing him with a regular Tav.

Some hints may point to Durge being the "canonical" romance for Astarion, as many fans have speculated ; while one may disagree with that sentiment, we must admit it's not far fetched.

If we consider all of Astarion's canonical past relationships (meaning, the few ones he actually deems important and genuine) were with men, and the emphasis put on Durge's "admiration" towards Gortash + the incessant pressure Bhaal puts on him to reproduce, the thought of these characters romancing each other in an alternative timeline actually sounds liberating.

Some Durge-specific lines Astarion says during his romance arc seem to be aimed at a male character, rather than sounding gender neutral: the first example that comes to mind is "Are you alright now, or is today a 'I will wed you with a delicate veil of blood blooming over your white curls' kind of day?"

Astarion sarcastically references Durge "wedding him", thus putting the player in a stereotipical "groom" role from the start, with the veil resembling the one brides typically wear during the cerimony.

If we consider all other aspects mentioned in this theory, the line reads as somewhat... male-coded.

If we want to be truly insane about this theory – and of course, we do – , we could even add a "gay allegory" element to the equation.

A vampire and the spawn of an evil deity, excluded members of society who'd usually feel a compulsion to hide, are implied to fall in love by the narrative.

V - ACTING CHOICES

Finally, we come to the voice actor: while a specific actor was chosen to play the character and is regarded as the iconic Durge VA, Larian didn't concern themselves with choosing a female voice actor to include the possibility of a female Durge, which is why we can only hear his intro in Neil Roberts' voice.

VI - CONCLUSION

With all of this taken into account, a female Durge seems to be an after-thought, if not directly a fantasy or a headcanon that the game gives you the possibility to play out.

The original narrative, as we can see, best accomodates a male character.

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