#being regarded as a woman feels bad. but so does the idea and practice of a guy. oh! im nonbinary!

[sweet-as-an-angel]

MW2 Reaction to You Being A Virgin

Warnings: 18+, Implications of Smut, Corruption Kink, Purity Kink, Innocence Kink, Ownership Kink, Age Gap, Implied Slight Yandere Graves Inexperience, Objectification, Dominant MW2, Soft MW2, Gaz is anxious :-( but trying his best, MW2 Trying To Be Smooth, Profanity, No Pronouns Used For Reader Except ‘You’.

Ghost

The fact that you, innocent, are his to love and corrupt sends white-hot anticipation between his legs.

He’s imagined what you’d be like in bed: how you’d take him, the sounds you’d make. Of course he has – practically everyone on Base has.

But now, his fantasies are tinged with something feral. A primal need to show you that he is the best choice for you (even if he doesn’t believe it himself) – the only one strong enough and skilled enough to be yours and to make you his.

He’s fantasised about you looking up at him with doe eyes while he pins your wrists to the mattress, voice meek as you tell him, as if it’s a secret, that you’ve “Never done this before…”

He can’t live without it. The fact that he can – will – be your first time. Satisfy you in ways nobody else will ever be able to compete with.

He’d never admit it, but a dark part of him has plagued him with ideas of ravaging and corrupting you, about making your first time so pleasurable and carnal that nobody will ever be able to satisfy you as he can.

“Don’t worry, Sweetheart,�� he tells you, taking your chin between his fingers. He lowers his lips to your ear. You don’t see the dark gleam in his eye. Don’t see the deliciously dark idea cross his mind – the impulse to fuck you so hard that you won’t be able to feel anything, nevermind pain. And he makes a promise to you anyway.

“I’ll take care of you.”

König

“Thought as much.” König’s words are blunt yet sharp.

“Seeing as you have everyone wrapped around your finger, it’s clear you have no regard for the way you conduct yourself.”

You may construe König’s words as mean. Derogatory, even. He means it as a compliment. Even if you don’t know it yet.

“You think I don’t see the way you flaunt yourself in front of the soldiers – thinking that you’ll be able to get away with it without consequence.”

König’s frame towers over you. His gaze is ice, and any trace of the socially anxious soldier you knew is gone.

“I wonder how you like it.” he muses aloud. His voice is tinged with something unreadable. Venomous.

“How you’ll take it. Rough, gentle…” His eyes narrow.

“Mean.”

He’s boxed you in with his stature alone.

“Makes no difference to me,” he tells you. Deceptively calm. And then, an offer. One you can’t refuse.

“I’ll fuck you every which way until I find what makes you scream the loudest.”

Soap

“Oh, really?” he says, eyebrow quirked and a hidden smile teasing his lips.

Johnny really couldn’t care less that you’ve never had sex before. But, the fact that you shared this information with him – albeit after he steered the conversation towards more…intimate topics – gave him hope that you were hinting towards something.

Something that Johnny’s wanted since he realised he was massively, whorishly down bad for you.

From his position opposite you, against the kitchen counter, he takes a step forward.

“I suppose you’re not very experienced then, are you?”

He advances until he’s in front of you. A wolf and a lamb. Close enough that you can smell his cologne.

His eyes are piercing, but there is a softness behind them. Something that writhes and wants and needs.

His hands come to rest upon the counter behind you. Nowhere for you to run. The heat from his body is scorching.

“Though, I’d be more than happy to…” His voice husks. “Beef up your résumé.”

Valeria

Corruption kink to the MAX

Valeria is a territorial, dominant woman – that much is easy to see.

And the fact that you haven’t had anyone else before her just does something to her.

Alters her brain chemistry permanently.

There’s not one soldier, police officer or government official she doesn’t own in Las Almas.

So why shouldn’t she own you, too?

Now she’s thinking of every conceivable way she’s going to take ownership of you.

She thinks about it so often that she struggles to complete her paperwork without having to disperse the issue before she can continue.

But be warned: there will come a day when satisfying herself just won’t cut it. When she’s going to seek you out and ruin you.

“It might hurt at first, mi Amor,” she tells you, hand stroking your cheek, coming down to your jaw. “But trust me when I say that–”

Her hand grips your jaw. Tight. A viper’s strike. A fire burns in her eyes and the corners of her lips curl up in a cruel smile.

“I’ll make it hurt a whole lot more if you don’t do as I say.”

Price

Given his age, Price has had his fair share of experiences.

But that doesn’t harden him to the simple fact that you haven’t.

In his eyes, there’s something endearing about how you’ve yet to give yourself to another person.

Another person that, he hopes, will someday be him.

The idea makes something in him stir. The fact that the difference between your age and his makes him that much more confident in his ability to please you in ways no mere boy can makes him anxious to act.

“Oh. Is that right, Love?” He says, eyes light and his smile dangerous.

“S’ppose you’re waiting for the right person.” His posture is inviting. Tempting. Belies the rush he’s feeling — the desire to have you at his mercy in the most carnal sense.

“Pretty little thing like you, you could have your fill of men.”

He’s angling for something. His face says it all.

He steps towards you. Again. Again. He’s in front of you.

His chest is almost to yours. His smile is shallow now. Strained. Like his pants.

“Probably looking for someone with experience.”

He thrives on the way your chest flutters. His does, too, but it’s masked beneath a  heavy stare.

“And trust me, Love,” his voice is low. A message for you and you alone as he brings his lips to your ear, breath hot against your skin.

“I’ve got plenty to spare.”

Horangi

You don’t hear it for his mask, but Horangi lets out a shuttered breath.

“That’s why you’re always so quiet when sex talk comes up.”

He says it as a fact, but you take it as a question. You nod.

Horangi’s arms unfurl from his chest, come to rest at his sides. He’s looking at you.

Even through the layers of his mask, his gaze is heavy. Leaden.

He steps towards you. His frame, broad, fills your vision.

You can hear how heavy his breathing has become. How thick the air is.

How much he’s trying to restrain himself.

“How about a deal,” he proposes. Commands.

“You give me something to have a nice, long, hard think about,” his hips are to yours. You feel him pressing against you.

“And I’ll give you something to talk about.”

Alejandro

“You surprise me, mi amor,” he says, natural as anything. As if he already knew.

“I’d have thought someone would have swooped in and claimed you by now.”

Truth be told, Alejandro wanted to be that somebody so badly that it made him ache in places he’d rather not think about. Especially when you’re already making containing himself incredibly difficult with that pouting, wide-eyed, innocent look.

God, you had no idea what you were doing to him.

“Or…are you saving yourself for someone specific?”

Before you, his frame is broad and imposing even without all his military gear on.

He takes your chin between his fingers. Tilts your head so your gaze can’t escape his. A shiver runs up his spine at the sound of your breath stuttering.

His words aren’t rhetorical. He’s pulled the answer from you – seen it in your eyes.

“Or are you just waiting for a man who knows how to take care of you?”

Rodolfo

“O-oh!” Rudy chokes out. His cheeks are already giving way to a telltale pink. He tries to cover it.

“But– you’re so pretty and smart and kind – I thought you’d have a boyfriend by now!”

In some ways, Rudy’s a bit of a traditionalist: his mind still jumps to the idea that you’d typically only be intimate with someone you’re already in a relationship with.

Not that he’d judge you if this were not the case for you.

But he sees his chance. And he takes it.

“Well, if you’re not with anyone, then…would you like to go out sometime? With me?”

His eyes are wide and filled with hope – something you’d never have expected from a  man in such a brutal line of work.

Sex is the last thing on his mind right now: truly, he’s so taken in with the idea that you’re single and available that your sexual status means very little to him.

Though, that isn’t to say he hasn’t thought about you like that before, or that he hasn’t spent many a night with his face smothered with pillows as your name escapes from between his lips, panting, moaning.

That’s a little secret for you to uncover later in your relationship…

Graves

“So you’re tellin’ me that no one’s had the privilege of fuckin’ that pretty little ass of yours?”

Graves sure has a way with words.

For all his slimy business practices, this is the one time he’s genuinely surprised. Unable to be slick.

He puts his game face on. Gives you a half-lidded stare and lowers his voice. His heart hammers: he conceals it behind a cool tone.

“Well, colour me impressed, Angel,” he says. A hand comes to the hem of your shirt, takes it between slow, intentional fingers. He has to resist the urge to look at your chest when he pulls the fabric taut.

“And here I was thinkin�� I already knew everything about you.”

He’s moving in before you can analyse his statement. Before you can begin to understand how badly this man has lusted after you – how deeply entrenched in your life he’s become. And all without you knowing.

He places a hand on the wall behind you. Presses himself closer to you.

“How much to let me be the first,” he drawls. Your eyes widen. His thin smile grows.

“And last.”

Gaz

Bless his little cotton socks, he doesn’t know what to do with both this information and himself.

See, despite being incredibly intelligent, Gaz is still the youngest of the 141, so he’s not entirely accustomed to situations like this.

He can’t tell if you’re hinting, flirting, or just telling him something about yourself.

He remembers what Soap taught him, though.

Should a situation arise where someone is flirting with you, just use your intuition and don’t fuck it up.

Gaz leans against the doorframe, almost misses, scrambles to resume his ideal posture.

“Oh, so we’re more similar than you’d think, then.”

He can feel Soap banging his head against a wall. Jesus, Gaz – at least try to impress (Y/N) !

At your raised eyebrow and your playful “Oh?” Gaz coughs. His voice lowers.

“But…” he steps closer. “Maybe we can un-virgin each other.”

Long story short, Gaz has no idea what he’s talking about. But, somehow, his nervous disposition and pretty boy charm have enamoured you. And you may have told him you’d take him up on his offer 👀.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

Yandere Masterlist Juicy Original Content <3

[steampunkedparm]

me and my grandma were at a cafe a few months ago or something and at one point had gotten onto the topic of identity within the queer space and their respective nuancs and cus of how many lables i use i often use my own identity as examples and at one point i revealed im not opposed to polyam relationships and she asked me how i knew that and??

how the fuck DO i know that??

[yanderes-galore]

Fandom: HOTD

Characters: Aemond Targaryen, Aegon Targaryen

Pairing: Rivalry (romantic for both)

Type of fic: Concept

Extra info: Both Aemond and Aegon start to take notice of maid!Darling. I was thinking Darling being / becoming a handmaid of,, Helaena for example, could be a way for both Aegon and Aemond to have a way to constantly see Darling, thus letting their obsession grow even more

-🥝 anon 🤎🤎

Poor girl just trying to do her job only to have two princes after her....

Yandere! Aemond Targaryen vs Aegon II Targaryen with Maid! Darling

Pairing: Romantic - Rivalry

Possible Trigger Warnings: Female Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Possessive behavior, Jealousy, Violence, Mature themes, Harassment/Unwanted affection, Murder, Targcest (Aegon and Helaena due to canon), Forced relationship(s)

Being Helaena's handmaid is usually a quiet job.

The woman often keeps to herself, muttering to herself as she plays with her insects.

You clean, speak to her, and act as a companion to the Targaryen princess.

You're around the same age and are always at her side.

However, this naturally gets you in contact with her siblings.

Both princes are bad in their own ways.

Aegon is bad because he's... touchy.

Aegon is infamous for bedding any woman he has access to.

Maids, brothels, any woman.

Which means you are constantly hit on, courted, and cornered when around Aegon.

Aemond is much better in this regard.

While he is similar to Daemon, his uncle, in many ways...

Aemond does not have the hedonism his uncle and brother have.

No... But he does have the very same bloodlust Daemon does.

Meaning he tends to duel (or straight up murder) those he thinks are too close.

So... both brothers are bad in their own right towards their obsession.

Them in a rivalry? Well, based on what I've seen and written...

Sibling rivalries within the Targaryen dynasty are quite dangerous.

Or any family at all in ASOIAF.

Would the two murder one another? Aemond might.

However, he knows better than just doing it.

He'd want to frame it as an accident or frame it on someone else.

An example of this in canon is during Season 2 of the show with Aegon vs Rhaenys.

He felt he could get away with burning Aegon with Vhagar during the battle.

And if Criston Cole didn't catch him?

He probably would've finished the job.

Now, would Aegon?

He seems to be the one more likely to tease or threaten, but not entirely follow through.

However, both princes are still dangerous and possessive.

It just appears Aemond, ironically the one who isn't trying to bed you every five seconds, happens to be the biggest threat.

I want to add spice to this request and say Helaena would try to support and protect you from her brothers.

Although... Her character isn't very... assertive.

She would probably try to keep you away from her brothers.

Yet Aegon would ignore her, trying to pull you away, saying you'd serve him better as his servant.

While Aemond may compromise, allowing Helaena to stay beside you while Aemond has your company.

Aegon's yandere behavior is both dominant and submissive I feel.

He can be intimidating, yet alone with his obsession and if you play your cards right?

Putty.

Aemond, however, is just dominant...

He's more attentive to your needs but is controlling.

Naturally, though, both princes like the idea of controlling a maid darling.

All while Helaena pities and worries for you... as when the rivalry occurs, you're barely attending to her.

Both brothers are affectionate in their own ways.

Aegon likes to corrupt you, offering pleasure and gifts to make you like him more.

While Aemond tries to be more of a chaste gentleman, still giving you gifts but often offering dances or walks.

Occasionally you're around to watch their sword practices... and the two destroy one another when they notice you're there.

Ser Criston Cole has to pull the maway from one another, both men bleeding and fighting like moody teens.

Alicent grows increasingly concerned that her two eldest sons are fighting over a handmaid.

She's been trying to work on betrothals for them in order to help them stay on track.

Yet both princes keep clinging around you while Helaena begs her mother to help her.

Helaena considers you a friend since youth, she just wants you happy.

She can tell you're overwhelmed by her brothers' infatuation over you.

You may be a simple maid, a woman made to serve...

But the princes don't care.

They want your hand regardless.

This is strange for both of them, especially Aegon who never even considered marriage for a long time.

The only reason Aegon begins to accept Alicent betrothing him to Helaena is because he has better access to you.

Which just makes Aemond more determined to marry you, begging Alicent to betroth you both so Aegon can be kept away.

You begin to wonder if you'd make better money somewhere else... serving some lord far from King's Landing.

Alas... fate isn't merciful to you.

As war eventually comes to be, more attempts at kinslaying come up.

During The Dance... Aegon is crowned king and Aemond is meant to serve him with his dragon Vhagar.

However, the two are still planning on keeping you to themselves.

Aegon may have more opportunities to keep you to himself, much to Helaena's dismay...

But the two brothers still have each other to deal with.

As more battles begin, the two siblings start plotting betrayal.

In fact, if we want to follow canon, Aemond may get Aegon back by burning him.

With Aegon bedridden or dead... and Aemond in power...

You'd belong to Aemond.

Although... maybe you want an alternate timeline, where Aemond is assassinated either by Aegon's order or Daemon's...

Allowing Aegon to keep you as his beloved maid.

Either way... it looks like you'll be stuck with one of them in the end.

Hopefully The Blacks will win against The Greens...

Maybe then you'll be freed from the twisted princes... maybe then you can go back to your old life with both of them dead.

[ladyniniane]

The worst Greek mythology retelling?

Unless you live in a cave (lucky you), you can't have escaped the wave of Greek mythology retellings. Some are bad, some are good and most of them are mediocre. Among those I've read, one was particularly bad and cringe and we are going to dissect it today.

PSA: As you can see, I didn't include the book's title in the post, nor use specific tags. This post is primarily aimed at me and my mutuals. If you disagree, feel free to block me and mask my username. You're the master of your ship and the only one who can curate your internet experience. Rude comments will be sent to the Tartarus blocked. And I mean, you aren't going to change my mind anyway so don't bother trying😎.

Now that we are done, let me introduce you to this book.

I already see some of you in the back rows being like "But Niniane, why did you bother with this? It's obviously going to be bad!". Well, sometimes I need things that are light and easy to read. Everyone needs to turn their brain off from time to time.

And besides, it looked inoffensive. The idea of modern women being isekaied during the Trojan War is fun. As a writer and enjoyer of OC fanfics, I absolutely love new takes and dynamics with existing characters.

Except that...it wasn't fun at all! Let's dive! And I hope you're prepared because it's gonna be a ride.

-So it starts with the goddesses being fed up with the Trojan War and male egos (Lego des Zhommes if you're French). They decide to find a way to stop the war. So far, so good.

-And their solution is to...send modern women back in time. Yeah, because they think that ancient-era women are too weak and meek. Only independent modern women will be able to handle those strong warriors:

"modern mortal women are different from ancient women [...] they're independent and smart and not used to bowing down and taking orders [...] maidens from the ancient world are not equipped to handle such a man, but I know that modern mortal women are different ---stronger, smarter, more independent."

Yes, you've read correctly.

First of all, it reeks of victim-blaming. If the Trojan women had been more assertive, they could have stopped this. It could have prevented them from being raped and enslaved! They just had to lean in and...Stop, stop. And I'm sorry but those ancient women are more equipped with dealing with that sort of men because they live with them every day. Idk the goddesses could have just...empowered the Trojan women so they could resist? Send the Amazons to help (with more success than in the original myths)? Give them a safe place where they could be protected?

-So, anyway, the heroine is transported in the body of a Trojan princess. But there is another problem. The heroine's friend who transmigrates with her is black. And she gets turned into a white woman. The reason? "Jacqueline’s lovely dark skin would be too hard to explain among the golden Greeks"(sic.). Here, we can see that the author didn't bother doing her research. Many stories regarding the Trojan War have an African king come to the Trojans' aid. The ancient world was furthermore interconnected. So yes, it would have been f*cking easy to explain. And to add insult to injury, our black woman turned white becomes the servant of the main character and is treated as her property.

-So anyway, MC becomes Achilles' war prize. And being a war prize is such a cool and fun life! You can wander around the camp, with no fear of being sexually assaulted!

-MC is a therapist and wants to try to help Achilles. She thus practices hypnosis on him and decides to have sex with him while he's still in that state. So, she basically rapes him. The worst thing: she knows it's wrong, but she does it anyway and she isn't sorry.

-Then, Achilles tells the MC that he has frequent bouts of berserk rage and that he even raped a woman. But he didn't mean to do it. Poor meow meow.

Needless to say, I stopped here. This wasn't fun, this was downright insensitive. The ending is predictable: MC ends up with Achilles and MC's best friend with Patroclus because no one can stay single!

Anyway, that was, imo, the worst Greek mythology retelling.

[immoralimmortals]

A Song With Ten Names

Chapter 3: Misanthrapologist (1)

Chapter 1 ☆ Next chapter

Summary of chapter: Time for a sacrifice.

Author's note: This chapter was originally part of the upcoming one, but I decided it should be standalone, both because it is Hidan-centric and because of its contents. I plan on more installments with this song, and if I follow through they should overall end up more fucked up each time. In addition, please regard the notes and warnings of chapter 1 if you have not read it already. Song is Misanthrapologist by Will Wood.

CW for references to periods, being on your period. Also, Hidan, of course, does not reflect how a normal person should view a chronic condition and he's a bit of an ass about it.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

I wanna meet your maker

Shake him by his ensanguined damask lapels

Holler "Look what you've done, gave this planet a sun

And made a man to wonder if he's more than the sum of his cells"

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It becomes impossible to hide, no matter how hard she tries. A flush face, tired bones, and overly sensitive heart make one very vulnerable, especially if those who judge know the reason why. The two Akatsuki don’t yet, and the performer hopes to mitigate it as much as possible.

Doesn’t keep Kakuzu from inquiring, though.

“Sick?” he asks abruptly, looking up from counting the tips made yesterday. It’s been half ten minutes, and the most she’s done for practice is hold her guitar to her abdomen and look pathetic and self-pitying. She fidgets from her seat on the rugged couch, embarrassed as hell.

“...A bit,” she admits.

“Will it effect how well you can work?”

She forces herself to shake her head “no.”

“Alright.”

And that’s the end of that on his end, but unfortunately, after much deliberation, the performer finds she must stand up. A violet eye cracks open from his side of the living room. It watches as she leans down closer than she’s every purposefully been to Kakuzu, and covered lips whisper in his ear. “...Hn,” the older one grunts, “How much?” She mumbles a number as Hidan’s mouth goes into a lopsided pursing. “Mm.” A few bills are dropped into her trembling hand. “Get a receipt.” Without even a look to the prophet, Jashin's disciple is gone; the nature of the whole thing leaves Hidan sour.

“The hell was that all for?” he inquires, praying hands still clasped around his pendant. Kakuzu doesn’t even look up.

“Nothing,” he responds, same tone as ever.

“Fucker.”

“Sure,” he dismisses.

Kakuzu gets the receipt he asked for an hour later, slip of paper in his hand from out of a bag the bard otherwise keeps closed up, lest contents see daylight. He grunts again. Couple cents off, but same bill amount-- decent enough guess, and he got all the change. She thanks him with a small bow and excuses herself up the creaky stairs. As soon as Hidan’s nose is in his space, Kakuzu shreds the paper till unrecognizable.

“OI!”

The old man hasn’t decided yet if this is funny or about to be supremely, unnecessarily annoying, seeing his partner squirm so badly. “Just don’t bother her about it.” Oh, how he should know that kind of talk will only plant ideas in Hidan’s head.

Ugh. People speak too lightly of this kind of thing, she laments in her head as she props herself up against a bedroom wall. “Sick” is the only way to describe the sensation. Her stomach curdles and insides burn. It’s like a vampire bit her and pulled out a cork at the same time-- just totally drained of energy. This pain is so bad her lips quiver as she frowns. The door is closed, but Hidan isn’t the type to knock.

“Oi!” Her eyes flutter open; he walked up without her noticing, somehow, so close she starts with his legs and works her way up. He continues speaking once the eyes lock. “The bastard won’t say anything.” A silver eyebrow raises. “The fuck is your problem?”

Oh. The woman’s cheeks get so red they begin to sting, her mouth feeling more like a squiggle than the line she tries to maintain. “I’m just sick.” The word “just” was a mistake.

“Dying? Fuck, you’re not contagious, are ya?!” Sounding bored with the former option and annoyed with the other. Urgently, the woman shakes her head. “So! What else is it then?!” Frustration loosens up in his expression as he comes up with the only option left. “...Chronic?”

…

…

She nods.

“Painful?”

Quietly, again she nods.

The expression he has is something you never want from Hidan:

Pity.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

'Cause you defy creation

I hate you, I hate you, I do

Hands to the night sky, praying you might die

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The preparations have been made for her mercy kill. Yes, Jashin has convinced him, Hidan needs to end this now. Despite being an immortal, he understood at least a little bit what Deidara was always on about-- the beauty of the end. Last breaths, a body draining till pale like a tipped inkwell, till it stains the ground around it. It was glorious. His disciple had even witnessed first hand! She listened to Hidan, eagerly, curiously; she always asked questions, ones that no one has bothered to since the Akatsuki swallowed him up. Yet...she doesn’t LEARN. The beauty of slaughter has yet to sweep her away in a tangible way, not just philosophical bullshit. The follower will never, ever WANT to kill.

And so it’s better to kill her now and not make anything more of it. Maybe Hidan misunderstood his lord, perhaps she was only to serve as a refresher to his faith, his excitement for the hunt. No more of a pointless existence being whored out for cash by his dumbass partner while he watches idly by. What kind of life is that for him to come back to, night after night?!

It’s time for a sacrifice.

“Uh.”

As she’s wont to do, the performer wrings her hands when particularly anxious about what’s to come. He’s certainly set...a mood…to warrant some tension, her corner of this dilapidated home swathed in shadow, shades down, door closed as a candle passes its light to the others while Hidan savors the burning wax bleeding down his fingers.

For once, he says nothing to even the slightest of words. His gaze concentrates on the fire till he sets the last one, light flickering in anticipation over his purple irises. It’s a sight to behold, someone willingly within his ritual circle. She’ll be good for something, after all.

“I think I complained too much,” she tries to backpedal with less urgency than she really should have, as he begins to prowl towards her backside. “It’s not...curable, per say, but it’s not something I can’t handle. If that’s what this is about,” she adds almost guiltily.

There’s no going back now-- in his mind, she’s a wilting flower, one he’d rather cut and frame for his savior than let decay into nothing at all, but damn if he isn’t curious still about whatever it is making her suffer so much. “Really,” he states, skeptical. His own shadow now doubles over the others, over-top her head. The shift from blades hitched to his spine to being wielded in front of him is unperceived from where she is, seated on the floor, thanks to the refraction of candlelight upon shapes making every one a blur.

“Hidan, I-- it’s-- it’s not a big deal. I promise.” The scythe pauses in place from the height of his swing, only being held by his own insatiable need to know what- exactly- has made her such a tragedy.

“If it ain't a big fucking deal, then stop dancing around and tell! Me! What! It! IS!”

His words come vicious and desperate, hardly contained before, and it makes teeth grit so much Hidan’s mouth begins to ache. Later, he will find, this passion surprised even him-- not because he’s incapable of passion- hell no!...it’s the reason behind it.

Jesus, it’s really going to be like this, huh? Breathe in...breathe out. Alright. It’s gone too far, she decides. He needs to know.

“I. I....period. I’m on my. Period.”

Static and white noise briefly take up the space of the voice in his head, the narrative he made no longer words but nonsense, drowned away. He shorts out, not moving an inch, like a guillotine still waiting to drop down.

“I’m sorry. It’s not a big deal, it’s really not! I can handle it, I have to. I’m just...in the bad part.” The part where she can hardly stand up, that is. Pathetic. “I’m sorry,” she says again.

The shadow of the blades shifts, slowly, surely, bit by bit, as his wrist lowers to his side. Ah, what sort of punishment was she going to endure? For making him go through...whatever all this preparation is meant for.

He walks around the circle, scythe still in his hands as he wraps his head around this. The woman is kneeling down, obedient to him, to his judgment. Her face is drained of color, hardly keeping her head up and not bothering to brush the hair out of her way. Hands folded, hands praying. Her eyes are wet, refusing to meet his own. Something occurs inside of him that’s less of a “click” and more like a sunrise: gradual, consuming, warming. It's foreign, and yet a part of him-- guiltily-- accepts it. Though he doesn't fully understand why, he is granted wisdom that this "condition" is not something he shall remedy.

After all, bloodshed is bloodshed.

“Ah. Well. Shit, then.”A small clink as he reattaches his red guillotine to his back. “Why didn’t you just say so?” Truth is, the performer had correctly guessed that he has a bit of a religious obsession with blood-- didn’t need Kakuzu’s advice to keep the subject private. God, but does she really have to feel so silly right now? That Hidan thought that he needed to do something to save her from it?! She’s...huh.

She’s flattered.

The woman sits lowered before him, and though as helpless as she is, damn if she isn’t curious.

“Did I really worry you that much?”

He quickly spits the taste of affection out of his mouth.

“Sorry.”

“...Shut up,” he murmurs.

“Sorry.” She shuts her eyes.

But just as soon they have reason to flutter open; they can only do so, of course, when she finds a gentle hand takes her own. Hidan’s fingers brush over her knuckles. It’s him, this time, that won’t meet her eyes, his own narrowed while closed lips try to seal in the little breath not lost. The chain around his neck rises over his head. The pendent is set into her palm, and then his own palms fold underneath it. Abruptly, the world is hers.

“We praise Jashin for this pain, for this blood. Thank you for our lives, as we are reminded of the mortal cycle. In life, we anticipate death. In death, we begin to feel alive. Thank you for blessing your disciple, lord Jashin.”

He’s never prayed out loud before in the time they’ve known each other, let alone for both of them. There’s a long pause; the assumption it’s her turn comes around. What should she pray for?

...She doesn’t know. But still, with this spectacle, she’s filled with something overwhelming, and it should come out. Instinctively, she leans down at the end of his prayer, and Jashin’s cold silver sigil is pressed to her lips gently, reverently. He’s foolish enough to look up at this moment and witness this kiss. For the first time, in all her pure, weary glory, Hidan sees he was wrong. He sees she is radiant. He sees she is beautiful.

And silently, unknown to her, he repents for the sin of doubting his lord.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Before I fall in love with you

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

[away-ward]

NAUURRRRR I SAW THIS, AND KO YOU JUST HAVE TO SUFFER WITH ME 😭😭😭 MichaelRikaKaiBanks bonus i swear im not lying, please be angry with me 😭😭😭🤡. L*nk on twitter/ x:

https://x.com/mytinyfighter/status/ 1702017261370851814?s=61

Just delete the space between / and 7.

I hope there'll never be a willemmy alexaydin istg 😭😭😭 ngl i kinda pd now

Ohhh someone told me about this! Thank you so much for sending it to me. Congratulations, you get a live reaction.

Wait... EmoryWill? D-do they not know Willemmy? Do they not use Willemmy? Willemmy is such a cute name for the pair/ship and honestly much cuter than the other couples'. I'm not being biased, this is fact.

EmoryWill. I'm already mad.

They're what? No. No. Rika is not the most hated. We hate how you interject her in scenes she's not needed. And I've never gotten anything but love for Banks.

Although, I do get a lot of Rika hate in my message box. I never get Banks hate. What are they talking about????

What side of the fandom are they interacting with?

How does everyone know about the steam room? I remember someone coming in on them but it's really gotten around like this that even in their own club, a "young woman" feels bold enough to sass Rika? And Rika has to keep "her chin up" like what? Are you embarrassed suddenly? Can't handle someone sassing you? Have you grown up at all, Rika?

And why is this girl allowed back if she's been given bloody noses before, probably for trying to insult Banks? Clearly, she's not there to learn so maybe they recommend they find a different club, hmm?

And Banks comes in with the logic. This is actually good for me because I've framed Banks differently in my head. So, for a clearer idea of her, I appreciate this.

I can't. I just.

It's not the overwhelming "Rika is perfect and beloved" narrative. Don't get it wrong. It's the way in contradicts the way I've framed them in my head (which, again, we've established is way off anyway so I don't know why I'm so annoyed). But I want them to all be all the same level. Why is it that Em and Alex and Will and Winter all love Rika, but Banks doesn't feel that same love from them?

In short, this is not the "chosen family" vibe I wanted. And now I'm mad. And sad. I'm Smad.

Let's see what else is in this box of fun, shall we?

Of course it was! He didn't practice abstinence before he met you. He had plenty of practice that had nothing to do with Rika.

I don't like her jealousy. Where's my logical Banks? *checks under a rock*

"It's been sitting between us." No, Banks. It's been sitting on you. No one else cares.

Does this mean Emory's safe??? I don't have to worry about random scenes popping up to ruin my ideas of her?

oh wait. you're right. Alex and Aydin are still waiting in the wings for their chance to steal the spotlight.

And on one hand, I get where Rika is coming from regarding Kai. On the other hand her saying things like "I don't think about Kai" and "Don't bring him up again" feels rude. Like dude, what he'd do to you? As far as I know, he's always been nice to you. You should think about him. I mean, respect that he has a wife and don't objectify him. But like... have nice thoughts about the guy.

I don't have to have nice thoughts about him. But I'm mad on Em's behalf.

I really wish this was the end of it. I wish it ended here with Banks agreeing but letting know Rika she doesn't mind and then they leave as friends with a deeper understanding of each other. Yay.

Knowing Michael (which, again... I don't), he probably got a little kick when talking to Kai, knowing that Rika wanted Banks more than him. He also probably kept it a secret because it fixed the relationship between him and Kai. No reason to be jealous of his best friend when his wife doesn't even want him.

She's what...? What kind of family is this????? Ten years and she's never had a reason to call Michael?

Michael starts talking and I immediately retch. That's horrible.

Well... that was something. I kind of feel bad for Kai. Is it just me, or does the line "trying to sort out his feelings" seem like he's not all that into it? I mean, of course he is because PD created him to be, but like... doesn't sound like someone who was positive that what's happening is what he wants.

Anyway. Thanks, I think. I don't know why I'm so annoyed. I knew how this was going to go and yet...

I object to everything here. Just for the record.

[pink-strawberry-kissess]

So, while I do think a lot of the criticism of Remake Ada is in bad faith, I do think there is something to be said about how the design of the character does not match the personality they gave her.

They clearly want to portray Ada as someone who puts up a cold, professional front with a heart hidden underneath but the outfit they gave her still screams Femme Fatale and is in some ways even less appropriate than her original outfit. The animated direction doesn't help either with quite a few shots of her ass. Not that any of this is remotely the fault of Lily Gao who clearly knows what type of character she is supposed to be voicing.

Basically, the writing and acting for Ada aren't the issue, the design and visual direction are the issues.

i really took some time to think of an answer because i know this is not sent in bad faith

i think i can agree on the basis of (this outfit is still not practical) but when have her outfits been super practical? you could even argue that her re6 top has JUST WAY TOO MUCH OPENAGE.

i could see it being, her personality is meant to be colder, so why is she dressing like that? but at the same time, ada has always had this innate girlness that i think male audiences sometimes doesn't understand. like the inherent.. girlness of dressing for yourself. her outfit isn't inherently sexy. i can see her dressing like that, entirely for herself. and it aligns with most of her outfits in a sense.

it can be hard from a male perspective to see a sexually provocative woman and be unable to detach their own sexual desire for said woman. i think a good way to maybe understand is how woman do not inherently dress for men, and i've never seen ada dressing for a man in this sense. (sure, you can argue that a male developer dressed her) but in this narrative, i can see her dressing for herself.

i respectfully disagree with you on the basis of, ada dresses like this, because ada WANTS to dress like this. she's always worn heels, so no argument there. she's still covered nearly head to toe. i think i just need a bit more substantiation on this idea, because i think i have to respectfully disagree.

i can understand in some ways, but ultimately i don't think her outfit conflicts with her personality. let alone her sexualization with the direction of her scenes. she doesn't do anything overtly sexual, and even the bed scene could be interpreted as a nervous response to avoid more confrontation from wesker. her response to wesker is a way to not show that she's weak or afraid of him, her "flirtatious" response she defaults to because she's already been shown to be incompetent. she's "flirting" to remain in control of the situation.

in regards to her outfit again, she's always been a feminine but stylish person. i don't see how her outfit doesn't fit or doesn't scream her.

one could argue- well ada's outfit is skin tight, so is leon's top? she still shows no skin at all so i think i have a hard time really sexualizing her outfit that much to the point where it feels out of place.

i know this isn't sent in bad faith, but i just can not see it

thank you for the discourse tho! made me think a bit

[lookbluesoup]

(New Adventurer Asks) 6A, 8A, and 5B?

6A. Which Scion(s) did you meet first and how did you initially feel about them?

Nahte met Y'shtola first. He was a bit skeptical of her initially, given how abruptly she appeared during the goobbue attack. But he recognized her Sage tattoo and, being relatively sure it wasn't a glamour, afforded her some credibility and conditional trust lmfao

He found her to be very self-assured and somewhat... difficult to read. He didn't take her confidence for arrogance, but did feel that whatever angle she was approaching the situation, and the world in general, was coming from a very different perspective than his. As a fellow student of the arcane, it made him curious!

8A. How painful is the Echo to you? Do you appreciate the insight it offers, or is is it more uncomfortable, emotionally or physically? Does this change over time?

Answered here!

But I'll add that the "sixth sense" it gives Nahte has been a massive boon to him and allowed him to save both himself and others on countless occasions. He is extremely grateful to have this ability, but it does cause him some internalized conflict. He's killed a lot of people, and though it's always been with the goal of protecting others, and he often had no practical alternative, it has felt a bit unfair at times given the advantage he has over them. He feels guilty about it on bad days. Nahte holds himself to an impossibly high standard and has sometimes weaponized his gift as a way to self-flagellate.

5B. How did you feel about being invited to join the Scions of the Seventh Dawn? Did you travel to the Waking Sands to hear their pitch? What was your initial impression of Minfilia, and her reveal that she also had the Echo? What did you make of the rest of the Scions?

Answered here!

I'll add that Nahte found Thancred a bit of a puzzle, especially with regards to his womanizing tendencies. In Nahte's culture, of course, polyamory is the norm rather than the exception. However, he'd lived long enough in the city to have a grasp on the idea that in most other places, monogamy was the standard, and whoring on the side or taking multiple lovers was considered 'normal' but... frowned upon, if done too openly, by ""good honest folks.""

Nahte was not overly fond of Thancred's tendency to lead women on and lie to them, but it was also a bit frustrating to see him get in trouble with women (and occasionally their boyfriends/husbands) who placed so many contradictory, arbitrary restrictions on a facet of human nature that simply was not sacred in Nahte's culture. Between that and Thancred's fondness for wandering and circumspection, Nahte thought Thancred would have been a much happier person if he'd been born a Keeper of the Moon. Nahte still thinks that, frankly.

[moviemunchies]

Being the owner of an English degree, I get alerts whenever there’s a big Shakespeare movie or television show that comes out. And of course everyone wants to do something with Romeo and Juliet, because that’s the most famous Shakespeare play. So I was a bit interested in this project when I started seeing trailers for it.

Rosaline tells the story of Rosaline, the mysterious Capulet woman Romeo was in love with before he met Juliet. Rosaline, upon finding out that her secret boyfriend has ditched her for her cousin, decides to break the two of them up by any means possible. Meanwhile, Rosaline’s father has been desperately trying to get her engaged to a man, any man, much to Rosaline’s chagrin. Though his last attempt isn’t quite as bad as the usual senior citizens.

This is a movie that’s quite fun for people familiar with Romeo and Juliet. Mind you, I don’t think it’s a deep dive into the text–there’s nothing about the movie that makes me think it was written by, or used research from, any Shakespeare scholars. There are some jokes regarding the original text, but there are a lot of things changed as well. Which is probably best for the tone that the movie’s going for–it would probably have quite a dark final act. That’s just not what this movie is.

What Rosaline does best is that it’s a comedy about a side character in Romeo and Juliet trying to take hold of her own destiny. It’s a silly movie, overall, but it’s also loads of fun. I know plenty of people reading Romeo and Juliet felt that they would do a better job if they were in the story and were able to affect the events. I know I certainly did at the time (I did not enjoy reading the book very much in eighth grade).

The resulting film is certainly loads of fun, and it’s satisfying for the most part, but it’s not particularly clever. For instance, there’s a really nice moment towards the end in which Rosaline’s father helps her in her hour of need, but he’s not actually been that supportive for most of the movie. It’s a nice, heartwarming moment, but it doesn’t feel entirely earned in the movie itself because I don’t think it’s gotten quite the proper buildup.

Still, it is loads of fun, and it does have some neat character work. Rosaline isn’t presented as being the perfect person who would have fixed all of the story’s problems–in weirdly Shakespearian fashion, she’s part of what causes a lot of the problems in the first place, and it takes a while for her to own up to it.

It’s another one of those movies that you feel like you’ll get exactly what you expect from watching the trailer. It is a lot better of a film than another Hulu original I said that about, The Princess, and a lot more complex. (And The Princess wasn’t aiming to be that deep of a movie anyway, so that’s not to slam that movie.) 

And also–it IS a bit of a romantic comedy, so there is a romance arc. If you were expecting this to completely lampoon all ideas of romance, then sorry, Rosaline has a love interest that’s not Romeo. Which is fine, because Romeo kind of sucks.

The movie deconstructs Romeo as a love interest in some interesting (if fairly obvious ways). He’s not a bad guy in this film, but he isn’t all there, not precisely a practical sort of guy you can depend on. Part of his appeal in the first place was him being one’s lover in a secret relationship, but once you take that away, what does he really have going for him?

So I enjoyed this film. I didn’t think it was brilliant in terms of reworking the Shakespeare story, but I did find it massively entertaining. If you need a relaxing comedy lampooning Shakespeare, or never really liked Romeo and Juliet in school to begin with, you’ll probably have a lot of fun with Rosaline.

[angelqueen04]

Have been lurking around liking everything in sight and this ask (and a few others) has just made me have thoughts and OMG I can’t help myself. 

I could see the whole ‘Blood and Cheese’ incident happening very differently than in canon, book and however the show handles it, if only b/c of Babey’s presence. She too is devastated over Luke’s death, no doubt she’s enraged. But at the same time, she is very much the bridge between the Blacks and the Greens, having the affections of practically everyone on one side, and a few key members on the other. I cannot see Babey ever being okay with the idea of Daemon sending Blood and Cheese into the Red Keep to torment Helaena and murder one of her children.

If one brings in the other anon ask about Helaena possibly fleeing King’s Landing with her children when Viserys dies and the Greens launch their coup, then odds are, she’d make it there even before Luke headed for Storm’s End in any case. It could just as easily be Helaena who delivers the news of Viserys’ death instead of Rhaenys. 

But anyway, Helaena and the kids are there, Helaena acknowledges Rhaenyra as the true Queen, Luke leaves, Luke *dies*. People are screaming for blood, for retribution, but even if someone had the balls to suggest that they kill little Jaehaerys, Babey herself would shut that right TF down. She’s just lost one nephew, they are not going to kill another one. What if she instead redirects everyone? Daemon’s got some people who can get into the Red Keep and kill someone? Okay, let’s use that, and be fucking smart about it, particularly since there will be only one chance to do something like this. Who better to kill to cause emotional devastation (for Alicent, anyway - I don’t think the kids are that attached to him given how little mind he seems to truly pay them) but also to weaken the Greens immeasurably than Otto Hightower himself? He’s the freaking puppet master. His death this early on would be a huge blow to the Greens’ cause.

Honestly, it shocks me that the Blacks didn’t take advantage of the opportunity that Blood and Cheese afforded them in canon. Instead of going for straight revenge, they could have gone for revenge and also doing something to aid in their cause. But no, better to just send someone to torment an innocent woman and murder her child. *facepalm*

And some other thoughts regarding the anon ask about Helaena. When Babey makes the offer to Helaena to have her come to Dragonstone if “something bad” happens, Babey may not even be thinking of a potential coup. Perhaps she’s worried that Aegon might be abusing Helaena? While Babey is aware that Aemond is very protective of Helaena and acknowledges that he would do all he could to keep Aegon from hurting their sister, there are limits, particularly in a society and culture such as this. As Helaena’s husband, Aegon technically has the right to do whatever he wants to her (ick). But Babey loves her sister and would not be willing to stand for something like that and would definitely lay out that offer of sanctuary, and browbeat Rhaenyra into backing her up if necessary. 

So with that lifeline in place, Helaena decides that Viserys dying, Rhaenys being imprisoned, and her family deciding that putting a crown on her useless husband’s head is the best idea ever all constitutes as “something bad”. Heck, Helaena’s own sight/dreams may push her down that road as well, giving her the feeling that if she stays in the Red Keep, she will die, and her children will die too. Going to Dragonstone at least offers *some* hope that that won’t happen. So she plucks up her kids, jumps onto Dreamfyre, and hightails it.

Of course, if the story dictates that Aegon’s family still needs to die, Helaena and the children staying on Dragonstone won’t necessarily mean that they survive. Dragonstone is pretty safe for most of the Dance, but it does eventually suffer a coup. What if, during the fight to take it, little Jaehaerys is killed? Like a Green loyalist thinks he’s gotten his hands on one of Daemon and Babey’s kids and decides he’s going to make them suffer that loss (or Alicent or Aegon orders that Babey and Daemon’s kids be killed). Helaena loses it and later commits suicide, and something also eventually happens to little Jaehaera. :( So, overall, nothing really changes - Alicent’s bloodline is wiped out (except for maybe Daeron, if he manages to survive as a supporter of the Blacks), but Babey does manage to prevent Daemon from ordering the murder of an innocent child and instead focuses his murderous rage upon a much more deserving target (Daemon’s only regret would be that he didn’t get to kill Otto himself).

So... yeah. Like I said, I had thoughts. *blush*

Ooooooh. What about if blood and Cheese happens but its ordered by Larys Strong as a means of assassinating Daemons reputation and driving a wedge between Babey and her half siblings so that the green kids won't defect to the blacks? Just an idea.

Thanks!

I do kinda like this idea; been struggling with how to approach it. At the moment, my lazy out is to see how the show handles it - I may well decide bloodthirsty assassin-ordering Daemon is too seksy not to incorporate, so we'll see, haha!

Thank you so much for the idea, anon!

[rae-is-typing]

Being Asahi’s Crush Part Two: Operation GAG brought to you by Suga’s schemes

Notes: Welcome to part two! Part one is here :)

Description: headcanons about suga scheming and hinata being precious, part two of four

Characters: you, karasuno’s vbc

Warnings: you get hit in the head with a volleyball and somehow sprain your wrist in the process 

Word Count: 1.8k

I wholeheartedly believe that this man knows how to give gifts

Look at me and tell me he wouldn’t know exactly what to give everyone he loves

That being said, he doesn’t know what to get you

He likes you so much and with the cultural difference, he doesn’t want to offend you/make you uncomfy or do literally anything that would ruin his chances with you

Hell he wouldn’t want to ruin the friendship either because you’re one of the only people not to judge him off his looks alone

So now he’s in an awkward stage 

When is he not in an awkward stage lets be real

Anyways our lovely and chaotic sugawara notices this immediately 

He devises a plan

Thus creating Operation Get the Ace a Girl, or Operation GAG

Okay maybe the name could use some work

But the plan is going to work, yeah?

Well… 

Let me explain

There were three phases 

Phase one: they spend time together

Phase two: they confess to one another

Phase three: they get together and make beautiful babies

Easy peasy lemon squeezy

Except you aren’t in the same year which means you aren't in the same classes

And it appeared that you were very busy after school

And they don’t know what you like 

…

Okay this is gonna be harder than he thought

But never fear, karsuno’s goddess Kiyoko has a loophole 

“It may be a good idea to recruit another manager to keep Hitoka-chan from getting overwhelmed next year.” 

Kiyoko you brilliant woman queen goddess

Now suga has another plan to devise 

Commence Operation Recruit the Foreigner or Operation RF for short

Much better than operation gag if i do say so myself 

But for this to work, he needs help

Help from a certain ray of sunshine 

From some light stalking asking around, he found out that you enjoyed tutoring elementary and middle school aged kids in your spare time

So he recruits Hinata, the babiest baby to ever baby ever

He doesnt tell hinata the whole truth, just that he should ask the foreign second year for help in his foreign language class and if things go well, he should see if she was interested in becoming their third manager

Hinata, you sweet summer child you

Baby boy didn’t even consider that his senpai could have ulterior motive for having another manager

But alas, he asks

And how can you say no??????? He hits you with 🥺 when asking for help

Seriously only a monster could say no

And so it begins!

He explains that it would be best to study near the gym so he can make it to practice on time

You shrug, honestly not caring all too much

But then he invites you to stay and watch because he wants his cute senpai’s praise and attention and he wants to show off a bit, sweet tangerine has a small puppy crush 

ANYWAYS

You say yes, because as we’ve established, you genuinely enjoy playing and watching volleyball

You two are there first and he’s talking so so so fast and showing you everything with no regard to whether you know anything about volleyball or not

Your heart melts because AH HE'S SO EXCITED

Like hinata is such a cute lil guy and he wants to share the things that make him happy because it could make them happy toooooooo 

As you can see, i am platonically whipped for precious #10

And so are you, Y/N, I’m happy we have something in common

OKAY BACK TO THE PROGRAM

So the next people to come are obviously the captain and the coach

You feel a bit bad for crashing practice so you explain that you were helping Hinata with his course work and he asked you to stay

Daichi smells something fishy 

He knows suga’s schemes when he sees them

But he agrees and so does coach ukai on the stipulation that you aren’t a distraction

Thats a lot ask lmao these boys have two moods: volleyball and girls 

I mean… same

But this can go one of two ways:

You distract everyone

You motivate everyone to play their best as to impress the new girl

spoilers its the second one

Suga thought it was going to take a minute for the plan to really kick in, but he was pleasantly surprised to see you at practice

He didn’t tell asahi you were there

He was gonna wait cause hes a bastard that loves drama

Again, same

So everyone shows up and practice is about to begin

Hinata is an oblivious bb that is somehow unaware of the absolute chaos that is about to ensue when he excitedly announced that he asked the pretty second year to watch practice 

Deadass Hinata is like 

“I GOT Y/N-SENPAI TO WATCH US TODAY :D”

How he said :D idk but he did and it was precious

Tanaka and Noya get whiplash from how hard they turn their heads to where you, Yachi, and Kiyoko are standing

You smile and wave at them while you promise not to be a bother

“Oh, Y/N-san, you’ll never be a bother to us!” Suga reassures while elbowing asahi 

Asahi.exe has stopped working

He was conflicted

He wanted to show off because you like volleyball

But he doesn’t want to fuck up and make a fool of himself

At this point coach ukai was getting impatient and practice starts

You chill with yachi and kiyoko

Yachi asks you if you were a model and felt like throwing herself into the sun when you said no

You talk about your old school and how lucky the boys were to have managers as nice as them

Kiyoko offhandedly mentioned something about needing another manager for next year when she leaves so Yachi isn’t alone wink wink nudge nudge

You say you’ll think about it 

Kiyoko is pleased

Yachi is shocked at how slick Kiyoko is

Lets be real here, kiyoko knows

She knows 

What does she know? 

Everything

She knows about suga’s plan and she wanted in even if she didn’t say anything 

All she needed was a few minutes after hinata wooed you with his precious boy tendencies and she had it in the bag

But would this be a haikyuu headcanon set without someone getting hit in the face with a volleyball? 

No 

No it would not

Let the headshots begin

This time, it is you

Sorry girl

But asahi doesn’t hit you!

I’m pretty sure he would drop dead if he did tbh

Instead its tanaka 

Sorry bro, i’ll say some nice things at your funeral

So tanaka is up to serve and at the same time, you’re walking over to grab something

The ball goes out of bounds because tanaka wanted to show off and he hit it with enough force to dent metal

But instead of metal, it was the back of your head

ouch

You fall forward, hitting your head again and land on your wrist as you try to catch yourself

Double ouch

The gym erupts into chaos

Yachi is sobbing 

Yamaguchi is shell shocked

Suckyshima is laughing

Kiyoko is getting the first aid kit

Daichi and suga are running to you 

Kageyama is stunned

Hinata is D:

Noya is maiming Tanaka

Tanaka is being maimed by Noya

And asahi

Poor sweet baby asahi is furious

But his body won’t move

He just witnessed the attempted murder of his girlfriend fiance wife mother of his children and pets crush friend!!

It takes him a good five minutes to come out of the shock

Now back to you, my friend

So i don’t know any language other than english 

I know i know im working on it 

But i can imagine that getting hit in the head twice can disorient someone to the point of not being able to process a non-native language for a good few minutes

So when they try to ask if you’re okay and you don’t immediately respond with words they’re concerned

But what’s even more concerning is the look you give them

You look at them like they grew two heads

Everything becomes even more chaotic

Tsukishima actually grows slightly concerned

Hinata is actively crying 

Kageyama is yelling that he shouldn't be crying because he was not the one that was hurt

Yamaguchi was yelling for someone to call an ambulance

Asahi is still frozen

Tanaka and Noya are praying lmao

Kiyoko is back with the first aid kit

Daichi and Suga panic as well

They think you’ve forgotten where you are and who you are

Coach Ukai and Takeda, the reasonable adults deescalate the situation like pros

Coach Ukai tells everyone to give you space 

Takeda aska series of questions to which you’re like 

😃?????

So with his limited knowledge of your native language, he asks if you’re okay and then you nod

Okay everyone breathe a sigh of relief

He helps you up and walks you to the nurse and to get paperwork for the incident 

You can’t tell me there won’t be any paperwork for this lmao

After you leave, they try to continue on with practice

Key word being try

Everyone is very worried so it ends early 

Shocking, i know

Anyways, they all feel awful about what happened

So when the next day comes and you aren’t in class, everyone assumes you’re dead

Practice turns into a eulogy 

Rest in peace my love

Jk you aren’t dead, just navigating an entirely different healthcare system and that takes some time

To make it worse, no one has your contact info and it’s a friday 

So they have to go the entire weekend believing they killed you

But then you show up on Monday with a wrist brace

You didn’t break it, just sprained it

Tanaka omg he literally falls to the ground and begs for forgiveness

He thought you would be seething

You were upset at first, but you had gotten over it 

You laugh it off

He is  s h o o k

it was music to his ears

The third years weren’t lying, you really were super duper chill

When he stands up, you punch his shoulder lightly with your good hand and complement his serves

Again, he is  s h o o k

But it was break time and the break was over so you parted ways

Noya deadass had to drag him to his classroom because he didn’t want to leave

Hinata, the sunshine baby boy he is, brought you snacks and cried because he felt so bad 

Poor baby was blaming himself because he invited you to watch

Pls hug him tightly and give him all the head pats  

You do lol

You give him a small hug after getting permission and ask if he needs help

You keep helping him, but you don’t watch practices 

So Operation Recruit the Foreigner fails

P S Y C H 

It doesn’t 

You actually missed volleyball a lot more than you thought, so you stayed behind one day, wrist brace and all, to talk to kiyoko 

She was happy and happily helped you talk to the coach and takeda

They triple checked you were sure after what happened last time

You were like 

Fuck yeah mate lets go

Operation Recruit the Foreigner was a success

@millenialfanfictionaddiction @rebloging-everything

[ashesandhackles]

The Hogwarts Express scene in Prince's Tale: A Sirius and Snape analysis

I really, really enjoy Sirius and Snape as characters and their respective narrative functions in story. But what gets me most about them is how much Rowling hints about their backgrounds and so much of it makes sense with regard to who they are as adults. So I am going to be breaking down a very small scene from Prince Tale and getting into long winded hypothesis about their respective childhoods.

So, let's start with Snape. The scene begins with Snape rushing to find Lily, already in his Hogwarts clothes. Harry notes he must have been eager to get out of his clothes - ones that look like he borrowed from his mother, as Petunia spitefully pointed out. This has always been a very interesting detail to me - first off, it indicates how poor Snape's family is. Second, this indicates his tiny rebellion from his father - he refuses to wear clothes of the abusive man, and prefers his mother's. I admit, I am partial to the reading that Snape refuses to associate with his father in tiny ways, rather than Tobias refusing to hand his son clothes.

(I have seen readings which say that it is also a sign of neglect - perhaps his parents bought clothes that simply don't fit him, but I am more inclined to think it's a hand me down, simply because Harry identifies so strongly with it. Because Harry knows what it is like to wear a hand me down that don't quite fit, that are too big for you, or the ones that make you look ridiculous.)

Lily and Petunia's relationship is fraught with Petunia's jealousy. And young Lily is upset over it when Snape meets her. "I am not talking to you. Tuney hates me" she tells him. "Because we saw the letter from Dumbledore". Young Lily shows signs of being extremely emotionally reactive and this scene is one of them. It's easier for her to deal with Petunia's rejection of her by telling Snape she doesn't want to talk to him. It's a childish displacement of her hurt over her sister's rejection. (I am genuinely baffled by interpretations that Lily and Hermione are similar. Hermione is very cognitive person, Lily, as we have been shown repeatedly in memories, is not).

Snape, however, with his bad history with Petunia and his inability/ poor social skills to understand why this matters to her, goes: "So what?"

Lily, who throws him a look of deep dislike, says "So she's my sister". This seed is important because this is what develops into "he doesn't get me" feeling she later displays in her teenage scenes with him. Interestingly, most of Lily's personal relationships have deeply interwined love and dislike - Petunia (whose rejection bothers her but she cheerfully informs Sirius that Harry nearly broke a vase her sister sent - which means there is resentment on her end too), James - who she was attracted to even before 7th year but also disliked at one point, and Snape - again, a contentious friendship filled with love and distance.

"She's only a -" we dont get to hear what Snape intended to say. And given his own acrimony with Petunia, it could be anything. However, I read it as "She's only a Muggle" because it ties into his feelings about his father. Snape, who is proud of being half a Prince, emphasizing his magical lineage from his mother's side, his refuge in a violent, neglectful home. (Barty Crouch Jr and Snape with their disappointing fathers - I imagine Voldemort is supremely attractive leader to people with broken homes like this)

Snape, by all accounts, shows a disorganised attachment style. His caregiver, his mother - and perhaps the only parent he seems to have regard for, is too preoccupied by her own abuse to be there for her son - we see this in glimpses Harry sees in OOTP: " woman cowering" where a man shouts at her, and a young, neglected Snape cries in the corner. Children born in homes like this have trouble regulating their emotions, simultaneously displaying tendencies to aggressively lash out or show disassociative symptoms. Both of which Snape displays. Statistically, this is also seen more in low income households where economic instability and resulting domestic instability creates an unsafe environment for the kids to safely form ideas of their identity, or express emotions in healthy ways, modelling instead out of behaviour seen at home.

Then, Snape reminds her that they are going to Hogwarts. He is already in his Hogwarts clothes - now, Snape gets to be the impressive figure. The one who told her about magic, who theorised about how Muggles get letters from magical people, the one who told her about Dementors and Azkaban. He has already left behind the Spinner's End version of him, he wants to bigger than that, and is keen to be in place of magical learning and to join Slytherin. Essentially, he shows signs of unstable identity, insecurity - all prime for grooming into a cult.

And here comes along James Potter, who looks around at the mention of Slytherin. James's comment uses Snape's line and directs it to Sirius instead and it becomes a conversation between them, as a way to bond more with a fellow "rowdy boy" Sirius. Effectively ignoring the other two.

Sirius as we see here, "does not smile" when James talks about Slytherin. He essentially says something that can be construed as a way to nip that conversation in bud: "My whole family has been in. Slytherin". This suggests to me that there is some loyalty to his family there and his disillusionment with them isn't entirely fixed yet. After all, Sirius's intense loyalty to his friends, more specifically James, did not come out of thin air. It is reasonable to suggest that he felt some loyalty to his family at some point and the intensity with which he regards his friends is a reaction to burned off and being a "displaced person without a family" as Rowling put it.

Interestingly, while his reaction to his mother and Bellatrix are obviously sore spots, his response to Regulus is comparatively quite soft. ("Stupid, idiot" - something he calls James later on in the same book, OOTP). I imagine Sirius has quite complicated feelings about his brother and he is capable of nuance (when the person isn't Snape, where his dislike seems to be borne of an intense projection): "The world isn't split into good people and Death Eaters". As someone who is grown up among them, Sirius would understand that.

His framing of Regulus's need to please his parents also further highlights what exactly is the source of disillusionment. He calls Regulus "soft enough to believe them" - which means he is crediting his own intelligence to see through his parents bigoted world view. Clearly, bigotry is not something the Blacks explained in a way that Sirius, eldest of their male line and their heir, bought it. It also probably didn't help the Blacks case that Grimmauld Place is in a Muggle neighborhood and that their eldest son is a bit of a wild boy with interest in pushing boundaries. His intellectual disconnect leads to the righteous rage he later feels but it began there. (Boy, it must suck to discover that everything you have been taught to value in the world and in yourself as the heir is essentially rubbish). Since his differences with his family began with seeds of intellectual disconnect rather than on intense empathy with downtrodden, it makes him, as a pureblooded privileged boy, unable to truly understand Lupin's fears regarding his lycanthropy. Hence, the Werewolf prank (I am not getting to the Snape bit, just the Lupin bit). To James' credit, he does understand what that means for Lupin and saves all three of them from different set of consequences.

Anyway, back to the scene. James, who has made an ass of himself in front of his new friend, who he was getting along with fine until now, then goes "Blimey, I thought you seemed alright". (Btw, I find James wildly large ego kind of hilarious here, especially in light of Snape's comment about him to Sirius in OOTP: "You will know he is so arrogant that criticism simply bounces off him"). Sirius, who I believe has been raised like "royalty" as Blacks would, has good enough social skills to defuse a situation. He grins and says: "Maybe I will break the tradition".

This line is an indication of Sirius's desire for independence, an identity seperate from his family. The use of the word "tradition" is interesting. It sounds like Sirius is expected to behave in a certain way, the heir of Black family whose parents thought being a Black "made you practically royal". Adult Sirius is contemptuous of this, or their "valuable contribution to Ministry" which means they just gave gold - it tells me that any and all conditions put on him by his family were to fulfill tradition that is either worthless or holds no meaning in his eyes. The root of the emotional abuse Sirius suffers from his family is this - realising his parents love for him is conditional on him being a certain way. (In fact, you can read Regulus desire to emphasise his connection to the family as a reaction to what he sees with Sirius - Sirius does not behave, Mum and Dad don't love him). As a child with unconscious knowledge of lack of love, Sirius then acts out, they react, rinse and repeat "until he has had enough". Sirius chafes against boundaries well into adulthood and doesn't react well to people enforcing it on him, even if it is out of love for him. Cue the fire scene with Harry where he behaves as if Harry is rejecting him instead of protecting him.

Sirius asks James about where he wants to go, and Snape, who is incensed about James being insulting about a House he put stock in, which he made part of new identity (so that he is no longer that Snape boy from Spinner's End) and was in general trying to be impressive about in front of Lily, "makes a disparaging noise" once James talks of Gryffindor. Snape's response to James' : "Got a problem with that?" is interesting. He says: "If you'd rather be brawny, rather than brainy-"

This is an important value for Snape. He knows he is clever and values it. He spends his spare time inventing hexes, making great shortcuts to Potions. He has genuine thirst for learning and he hones it. In SWM, we see that he has written far more longer answers than anyone else, he is poring over his paper after exams. He even mocks Hermione's lack of inventive answers: "Answer copied word to word from the textbook, but correct in essentials". He values originality. It may be me stretching this, but I am partial to the reading: this is his way of rejecting his father once again, who is implied to be a violent man. (in other words, someone who is hypermasculine - "brawny". In fact, Snape's rejection of hypermasculinity is a huge post on it's own - Potions (brewing, cauldrons - coded as feminine arts), the doe Patronus, his proficiency in Occlumency and Legliemency (intuitive mind arts, again seen archetypically feminine) etc).

"Where are you hoping to go, seeing as you are neither?" - Sirius is quick with emotionally cutting insults. Snape hasn't even finished his sentence, but Sirius is already on his case. Which suggests growing up in a household with sharp tongues. It's a fair assumption, given Mrs Black's half mad portrait. It also tallies with Sirius's talking about his mother: "My mother didn't have a heart Kreacher, she kept herself alive out of pure spite" . The wounds are fresh enough on this. (Another interesting way Snape and Sirius act as inverse mirrors - Snape rejects his father, Sirius rejects his mother. Sirius acts as proxy for James for Harry while Snape takes on Lily's role of protecting him). However, you know who else is spiteful? Sirius.

While James is the physical bully (the tripping Snape, doing most of the bullying in SWM), Sirius attacks emotionally. ( Sample the one about Snape's appearance - "I was watching him, his nose was touching the parchment, there will be great grease marks all over it, they won't be able to read a word" or even the carelessly vicious- "Put that away, before Wormtail wets himself in excitement"). Curiously, with all that talk of how his mother being spiteful, it's her room he spends time in when he is depressed. (Again, in inverse mirror way, we can talk of how Snape looks for a father figure in Dumbledore - craves his validation and is proud of Dumbledore's trust in him). We could argue it's also because Buckbeak is there, and perhaps it's the largest room in the house, but it's very telling that's where Sirius spends time when he is "in a fit of sullens". Sirius's sense of abandonment from his family, makes him look for family connections with friends - a trait he shares with Harry. Interestingly, the first time he glimpses Harry in Privet Drive, Harry is also running away from home - just like he did. Anyway, I could go on.

[brotheralyosha]

Art does not exist to be evaluated on a scale of “harm” to “uplift,” and if we want to talk dog-whistles, that right there is a huge one: it’s deeply anti-intellectual, and it centers a form of toxic individualism that evacuates solidarity/difference in favor of moral purity.

Also, relevant from other recent intra-community trans Discourse: the fact that something triggered or hurt you, personally, is real— but that doesn’t actually make it bad, or wrong, or Harmful (tm) because you *are not the center of the universe.* Other trans folk who have different experiences of gender and the world might be deeply seen by the art that you think is morally bad and harmful personally. To some extent, we know why this is common: traumatic stress forces your focus to be survival oriented, internal, and evaluative. It’s hyper-vigilance! However, what it is *not* is healthy or productive—especially when turned relentlessly outward to hold others responsible for your bad feelings as opposed to processing them, or saying “ouch, not for me.” (Which is not to say artists shouldn’t be cognizant of other people’s pain and the larger social implications of their work, so please don’t reduce what I’m saying here to “fuck it, who cares.”)

The other huge flaw with “the story harmed me” or flat harm-critique is the lack of acknowledgement that, if we’re using that metric, then your insistence on the story harming you is EQUALLY harming to the other trans folk for whom the piece was a revelatory story, or productive. It’s powerfully self-centered and not feasibly sustainable. This is where the whole “criticism is an art itself and has theory” thing comes in. Because Sedgwick wrote re: queer theory’s internal failings a long ass time ago about “paranoid” vs “reparative” reading practices.

What we saw here was a classic case of destructive/paranoid readings that (1) FORCIBLY OUTED A TRANS WRITER and (2) caused a lot of misery and stress across the board for everyone... but that stress has been processed unevenly. Paranoid readings are also a valid understandable response to a violent world that seeks to harm us! But they close in on themselves and each other like a fucking bear trap. Reparative readings are open to pain as useful and potential, and are by definition attempting generosity.

Generosity in critique MATTERS. And furthermore, here’s where I get mad as hell: direct-effects audience theory has been discarded for like 40 years for a reason, but it HAUNTS twitter discourse like a hideous revenant. This framing of art and culture is very conservative, pretty fucked up, & spooky to someone who does this stuff professionally. If your replies are full of people saying “hell yes this is critical theory RUN AMOK” I want you to think hard about that.

And regarding some subtweets: it is, in fact, some people’s job—a job for which they have trained extensively!—to do critical work. That does not mean your opinion doesn’t matter, but it does mean (as I teach students every semester!!) that when doing heavy lifting with art, perhaps the metric of “who is allowed to speak about rhetoric and discourse” is not *solely* an identity based category. That’s a dangerous game. All of us can read badly, or be missing the background that a piece is speaking from, and being trans is NOT a guarantee against that. I’m exhausted and upset by the idea that we can’t have things that dig into more than 101 level exploration of gender, or our pain and tropes and violence, because it won’t be perfect for Everyone. And a queer woman who has the background to engage with what rhetoric and discourse and criticism do, weighing in specifically on those things, is not out of line—and neither is a trans person speaking to their identity experiences. Both can coexist and be discussed with an ethical approach to critique that is not infuriating.

I’m extremely tired and frankly feel violated by the level of anti-intellectual rhetoric and vitriol that cropped up in this discussion, and I’m not talking about fair critiques of a story’s functions or failure to fulfill those. Shit got personal quick, in unproductive ways. In short: harm-based critique of art sounds reasonable on the surface but its application & implications are intensely problematic and almost impossible to ethically or properly deploy, particularly when applied not to, like, egregious hate speech, but affectively difficult art.

That Twitter Thread (On Criticism), By Lee Mandelo

[stillness-in-green]

No, Re-Destro Is Not Destro’s Literal Son

and

Yes, I Will Die On This Hill

I have a number of small, persistent quibbles with some of the widespread misapprehensions I see included in BNHA fanfic, quoted as fact in meta posts, even cited on the wiki. Quirk cancellation restraints, what the 20% quirklessness data point means in practice, when Kurogiri comes into existence relative to the time of the Shimura Family Massacre, things like that. My biggest one, though, is as the title suggests: the idea that Yotsubashi Rikiya is Yotsubashi Chikara’s son.

I don’t entirely know where this confusion comes from. As far as I can tell, the early scanlations didn’t get it wrong—one rendered the line in Chapter 218 about Destro having a child he didn’t know about as being children, plural, but otherwise, they were all accurate enough. It seems people just assumed that the child mentioned in 218 must be Re-Destro, who was, after all, right there on the panel. Even though the scanlations never said it, even though the official translation never said it, even though ample evidence in the manga disproves it, the idea still got around that Rikiya is Chikara’s son.

I have and will maintain that this is obviously wrong if you stop to think about it for even a moment, but unfortunately, most people don’t. The error can be found on less well-tended parts of the fandom wiki[1]; it’s in tumblr meta posts about the villains; it’s in fanfic.

And now, god help me, it is on the official anime website, too.

“Stillness-in-green, maybe you should consider that you might just be wro—”

I will face BONES and walk backwards into hell.

But if you want, you can come with me, and I’ll explain on the way. Hit the jump.

Dialogue + Narration

There are two places where the relationship between Chikara and Rikiya is explicitly addressed—the lead-in to the dinner scene in Chapter 218 and the fight between Clone!Shigaraki and RD in Chapter 232. If you include the Ultra Analysis databook, the number goes up to four: once each in Re-Destro and Destro Classic’s character blurbs.

Let’s take a look at each of those places, shall we?

The relevant Japanese text here is in the first narration box: 子ども, kodomo.

Kodomo is not gendered. It literally just means child. The key kanji is 子, ko. Like most kanji, it has a lot of potential readings, and you can add other kanji to it to modify it. Add 息 and you get musuko, son. Pronounce 子 as shi instead of ko, and you get a term that is frequently, though not exclusively, used to refer to boys. Add 女 to that reading and you get joshi, woman/girl. 子 is in a lot of words, many of them gendered! Used for kodomo as Hori does here, though, it does nothing to indicate a gender one way or the other.

Also too, it does nothing to indicate that Rikiya is the child in question; it simply states that there was such a child, somewhere in the world. Now, the natural assumption for anyone who knows how the graphic novel medium works and who understands basic literary analysis would be that the significant character we just met is, in fact, the child in question—except that everything else we learn about Destro and the original Meta Liberation Army here makes it entirely impossible.

I’ll do a full breakdown on why that is in the next section. In the meantime, here’s the next reference:

Here, we’re looking at the phrase the Viz translation renders as, “His blood runs through these veins.” The literal Japanese there is, Desutoro no matsuei chi o tsugu mono! In a literal translation, chi o tsugu mono means, “one who inherits the blood,” or, more loosely, “blood successor.” It’s matsuei—末裔—that’s the key word here.

Japanese has several words to express the concept of “descendant.” Matsuei is one word; the data book uses shison. So what’s the difference? Well, I’ll talk about shison in a moment, but I had an inkling of it just from looking at the kanji in matsuei—“end” and “descendant” respectively, leaving me with an impression of something like a final descendant or the terminus of the bloodline. Further research confirmed it: shison can refer to any lineal blood tie, but matsuei refers to a bloodline’s final inheritor, the person at the end of a long line of many, or even countless, generations. It’s the difference between being able to point to a grandparent and the kind of painstaking genealogical research that lets you[2] point to a famous royal from eight hundred years ago—matsuei is a word that very much assumes the existence of those countless generations.

So not only does Rikiya’s line there not imply that he’s Chikara’s son, but his specific word choice also tells us that he cannot be Chikara’s son. That’s, uh. Pretty conclusive, I would say.

Lastly, though, there’s also the data book. This is, perhaps, the actual closest you’re going to get to a manga equivalent of those character blurbs on the anime website, at least until such time as Hori deigns to give the MLA types character profile pages. (I live ever in hope.)

There are two relevant bits of text, one in Re-Destro’s entry, and the other in Destro Classic’s. The first describes how Re-Destro organizes the MLA as Desutoro no chi o tsugu mono: the same phrase he uses for himself in the manga, minus the matsuei. @codenamesazanka (the one who told me about the databook references among other citations, bless) rendered it as “Destro’s blood successor”; I have also seen it given as “the successor of Destro’s bloodline.” Note again, the lack of reference to a father/son bond.

Chikara’s entry uses that other descendant word I mentioned before, 子孫, shison. Notice that the term uses that ko kanji from kodomo before? As it does in joshi, 子 here reads shi. The other kanji, 孫, means grandchild. Thus, literally, grandchild-child—or, in the vernacular, simply descendant.

And then we have the anime website.

So, for comparison’s sake, the anime website uses 息子—the same combination of kanji that I said earlier gives you musuko, son. Heck, it even uses 父, chichi, for Destro—father. It’s as explicit as it’s possible to be, and I just don’t know why or how the anime website could fuck that up so bad when absolutely nothing in the manga describes the two Yotsubashis that way, and, indeed, one specific word choice actually rules out the possibility.

So, that’s all the manga says directly. It’s not the only evidence there is, though. In fact, the next piece makes it even more clear how colossally and impossibly wrong a father/son connection for Destro and his modern successor is.

Timeline

The long and short of this section is, “Since Harima Oji was Sako Atsuhiro’s great-great-grandfather, there is no possible way that Destro—who pre-dated Harima—can be Re-Destro’s father.” If you read that sentence and nodded your complete understanding and agreement, feel free to skip ahead to the last section. If you’d like the full explanation it takes to reach that sentence’s conclusion, though, read on.

So, aside from the word matsuei, the timeline is the most telling piece of evidence to my eye. I address it secondly rather than firstly because it’s less direct than the explicit narration; it relies on drawing conclusions based on things we’ve been told elsewhere rather than on the immediately relevant text. Oh, Mr. Compress’s relationship to Harima is explicit enough, but on what am I basing my claim that Destro predates him?

Regarding that, there’s no explicit year relative to My Hero Academia’s current events given for when Destro and the original Meta Liberation Army were active; the same is true for Harima Oji’s escapades. However, we are given some broad-strokes information, relative not to current events, but rather to the history of heroism as a legal institution in Japan.

We know that there was a widespread, lengthy period of chaos following the rise of quirks—called meta-abilities in those early years. At some point, however, people began to search for a way for meta-humans to live in peace with non-metas. The compromise that was reached was the foundation of professional heroism in Japan—while the use of meta-abilities would be legal in private settings, it was only by becoming licensed by the state as “heroes” that people could use their quirks in public.[3]

The legislation curtailing the use of meta-abilities—and the appropriation of a dead woman’s language to popularize a law establishing exactly the opposite of what she used that language to call for—is what catalyzed the rise of the original MLA. Thus, we can position Destro as being alive and active around the same time that heroism as a legal institution was being formed. Since we further know that he committed suicide in prison, we can assume that his child was conceived at some point prior to his capture. Ergo, Destro’s child, were they alive today, would be as old as Japanese professional heroism itself.

Next, consider Harima Oji, the Peerless Thief, a criminal who targeted the riches of “sham heroes.” We’re specifically told that he was active in the days in which the current system was settling into place—e.g. he only became active once the Hero System was established enough to have produced corrupt heroes. We’re told he preached reformation—he wasn’t just some pre-existing criminal who saw a shiny new target in heroes; he had specific grievances which he wanted addressed by the system, and which the system was not addressing.

The earliest Harima could possibly be active, then, is concurrent with Destro—Harima fighting against the corrupt people who had found their way into the new heroic institution, and Destro fighting against using the institution of heroism to oppress non-heroes. What I think is more likely, though, is that Harima came after Destro—Harima needed to have had time to realize what kinds of fakes had been drawn to this shiny new career path, maybe even to spend some time trying to change things the legal way.

I don’t suspect they were separated by very long—I would imagine Destro was easily within Harima’s living memory, and might well have influenced why he chose the path of protest that he did—but I do think they were separate.

Moving forward, then, Mr. Compress is four generations distant from his famous ancestor. Thus, even if you assume that Harima is of the same generation as Chikara, that’s what you’re looking at for Chikara’s child: someone who, were they alive today, would be old enough to be the great-grandparent of a thirty-two-year-old man.

Re-Destro’s probably a few years older than Mr. C, sure,[4] but that man doesn’t have Ujiko’s slow-aging quirk. Unless you want to start pulling theories about cryogenic stasis the story for some reason never saw fit to mention out of thin air, Re-Destro is in no way old enough to fit the bill.

This is backed up by one other piece of the timeline as well, and one more place we can look at language:

The small child at the center of the image is Rikiya, so young that he’s in schoolboy shorts for a meeting otherwise so formal that he’s been made to wear a tie. He’s, what, six to nine here, tops? And the adults speaking to him say that they’ve been in hiding for generations—代々, daidai, the kanji for generation followed by a kanji that just means, “See that kanji written right before me? Yeah, just read that one again.”

The original MLA was active for only a handful of years, and, per Chapter 218, they didn’t dissolve until Destro was captured. Thus, we can assume they have been in hiding since then, but not before then. With that in mind, this is another line that renders a father/son relationship impossible.

Remember, Chikara already had a child in the world circa his capture. If Rikiya were Chikara’s son, then Destro’s capture and his army’s subsequent dissolution could not have happened any farther back than nine months plus however old Rikiya was in this exact moment of his youth. Rikiya, who we see here as a child of less than ten.

Ten years in hiding doesn’t make one generation; it damn sure doesn’t make multiple ones.

Now, you could make theories about cryogenic statis that would explain this ludicrous discrepancy, sure. You could also theorize about e.g. artificial insemination,[5] or time stop quirks, or any number of other possibilities in the vast panoply the HeroAca world offers. The point is, though, that you don’t need to. There was, in the manga, no discrepancy that needed to be explained. It is only fanon misinterpretation and a glaring disinterest in the series’ villains from official sources that have presented this issue.

I’m praying that it’s all just a misunderstanding on the part of whoever maintains the website, and that the anime itself will render the relevant bits of dialogue correctly. Given the extreme cuts and alterations that My Villain Academia has been subjected to thus far, though, I’m sure you can appreciate my being concerned.

…So that’s the meat of it. The idea that Rikiya is Chikara’s son is wrong simply on the basis of what’s said in the text, and it’s doubly wrong on the basis of the timeline. There is, though, one other thing I think points towards Re-Destro being exactly the descendant he says he is, not a son playing down the connection out of humility or something. This one is a lot more headcanon-y, though, so I saved it for last.

MLA Social Dynamics

It’s quite simple. We have, in the MLA, a group of people that venerates Destro’s bloodline to an obviously unhealthy degree, putting up portraits of him wherever they can get away with it, tagging his successor with a “Re-” as if to invoke reincarnation or miraculous return, entirely willing to throw their lives away for what they think was his cause, and others’ lives if those others say anything too scathing about the words Destro wrote, quite as if they treat Destro’s memoir as some sort of holy writ.

They venerate Destro that much, and you’re trying to tell me that they wouldn’t just call a spade a spade and acknowledge RD as the son of their great leader? Come on.

Since long before I turned up the matsuei factoid in researching this piece, since long before Mr. Compress gave us such a helpful generational comparison, I’ve held the opinion that, given a group that holds their leaders in such high esteem, with such particular regard for bloodline, the only reason Rikiya does just call himself a descendant, rather than citing the specific term for what he is, is that the specific term is distant enough that it actually does sound more impressive to just say “descendant,” rather than something like, “great-great-great-grandson.” That kind of thing just begs the question, “What took you guys so long?” or, “You and how many other people, buddy?”

Mr. Compress may have the panache to carry off a line like that, but Rikiya’s a different story. If he had something so amazing up his sleeve as, “I am the son of the great Destro,” I have to think he’d just say it proudly, not fall back on the impressionistic vaguery of something like chi o tsugu mono. Even if I had no other evidence to work with, I’d think the same—all the evidence you need is right there in the character writing of who Rikiya and the MLA are and how they talk about the man whose dreams Re-Destro was raised to carry.

A closing note: I will allow that Rikiya is being overdramatic when he uses matsuei and its connotation of countless generations. There are a few other things we can use to trace the history of heroism—Ujiko’s age, and the 18-years-or-less periods that One For All was held by its pre-All Might bearers—and running those numbers leads me to believe that it is, in fact, entirely possible to count the number of generations between Rikiya and Chikara, and the number, while higher than one, is probably not all that high. Certainly matsuei is being more dramatic about it than is entirely warranted, hence the poetic flourish of the official translation’s, “His blood runs through these veins!” The theatricality only makes me fonder of him, however.

------------------------

FOOTNOTES

[1] It was changed and reverted on Re-Destro’s page at least twice before it finally stuck in January of this year. Chikara’s page took until July to be corrected, and it’s still wrong on various other subpages.

[2] Or your kids, if you have those. Only the last generation in the bloodline is the matsuei, but that’s a moving goalpost as long as the bloodline is still propagating.

[3] This summary of events combines what we know from both My Hero Academia proper and the Vigilantes spin-off, which I recommend to anyone who’s at all interested in finer-grained worldbuilding on Hero Society Japan than the main series makes time for.

[4] I personally headcanon him as 42.

[5] To which point I would refer back to the word kodomo, and note that that word choice indicates that Destro had a child in the world. Not a sperm sample kept in a freezer somewhere, waiting for the right would-be mother: an actual child. Some quick research on my part says that the farthest that term stretches is in using it to refer to yet-unborn children, fetuses still in the womb. Seeing as Japan doesn’t even allow inmates conjugal visits in real life, much less in a setting where villains are so dehumanized that Tartarus is an acceptable punishment for them, the line about Destro “having a child out in the world” takes us right back to a date of conception no later than Destro’s final night of freedom.

[marvellovegalore]

Loving You

Chris Evans

Synopsis: Chris is over the moon, he's met you and life couldn't be better - you're all he's ever dreamed of and there's nothing you could do to ruin that.

Warning: explicit language, sexual content

No one in your industry would ever consider you difficult to work with, neither mean, arrogant, conniving or calculating. Most would go out of their way to praise you, proclaim their adoration for the movie star of dreams. On the other hand, your previous partners would. Ex-boyfriends that would bravely volunteer to be interviewed about your past relationship would recount their experiences with the same look as a shell-shocked soldier. If they could, they would gather in a support group for those left with deeply affecting, unresolved trauma - left by you.

You would deny it, if you could be bothered; or if the media had declared your heartbreaker ways to be of public interest. Which they are, but you’re largely untouchable therefore they're unreported. A Hollywood starlet, philanthropist, trend setter and tastemaker - alongside with being viewed largely as a sweetheart. Your childhood nannies coming in storming with adulations and saccharine recollections of a sweet and shy child. Friends that are more than happy to celebrate you on social media and fans who fill the internet with high production videos of you strutting on the streets and red carpets cement the idea that you are the moment, and you are loved.

To the world outside of the sphere of your ex-boyfriends, you were the most eligible bachelorette. There was no flaw in sight, no illusion to dispel or enchantment to break; you’re the real deal. Until you get bored, and you need to hurt someone. Because hurt people, hurt people. As the saying goes. There’s no need to go into that - just yet.

So, when Christopher saw you at the 2019 Vanity Fair Oscars after party, he fell head over heels. Your eyes cast a spell on him, and the enchantment was cast by the world’s master mage, you. You barely realised what you did, you were in no mood to flirt or truly fraternise. You were attempting to drown your sorrows of missing out on another Oscar win for the second time - in a mojito glass. You looked spectacular, possibly more than how you looked during the ceremony. But to Chris, your face of indignation looked like the angelic expression of a good second place loser with no hard feelings. He attempted to approach you, but too many people go into his way, they came with unprovoked film criticisms and pseudo interview responses that would get them into the academy board. All he wanted was to see your face up close and know how you spoke when you weren’t being regarded by a crowd of enraptured spectators.

He could see that you weren’t being left alone either, you hadn’t won the Oscar, but you are being treated as if you did. Your eyes bounce off of him every once in a while, but he couldn’t capture your attention - and then you left the party. You hardly made the French exit you were seeking. Stars old and young clamoured to say their goodbyes and kisses on your cheeks. You finally managed to escape. If Chris were to attempt to lie and say that he wasn’t disappointed, a blind woman could have seen right through him. His heart dropped, and he couldn’t explain why - he didn’t even know you.

Some other actor friends managed to drag him to a more intimate after party, the setting hardly intimate. A compound nestled in Hidden Hills, twenty-four-hour security circling the property, of one starlet who presented herself at the beginning of the night but chose an early slumber rather than socialising.

You came in half an hour after him, a miniskirt showing off your incredible legs - which were insured for an absurd amount.

His breath caught in his mouth. You were dressed down, but you looked too incredible to even try and claim you didn’t try. Everyone’s head turned and everyone was captured by the beauty at the door, accompanied by a friend. Your demure appearance fooling everyone into thinking that the attention was unwanted. You grabbed yourself a drink and half an hour later you were still enveloped with a group of equally intoxicated friends.

Though, Chris was determined to get your attention. He grabbed a drink off of the barman and slowly and easily made his way to you. The word ‘chill’ being chanted over and over again in his head. He was dead set on not making a fool of himself. Three steps away from you, glass of mojito clutched in his hands, his anxiety being beaten down and desperately suffocated into his stomach and away from his brain. He goes over his words, and before he finishes walking to you, you turn suddenly.

Your eyes pierce into his, a smirk glossing your lips. “Hi.” Your voice is low, characteristically different from your stage voice - your accent just as strong.

“Hey, got this for you.” Chris thrusts the glass into your unexpectant hand, some of the drink splashing out over the frosted rim. “Hope, it’s not too presumptive of me to have gotten it for you?” His eyes have glossed over, he shifts his weight from one foot to another. You shake your head no, a sweet smile playing at your lips. He’s even easier on the eyes much closer up. “Sorry you didn’t win that Oscar, real shame, I was rooting for you!”

You store it in the back of your mind that this man manages to look like a golden retriever even when he’s several drinks down, “It’s nothing, what does it mean anyway, I’ll still get more jobs in the future.” You take a sip of your drink after he takes a sip of his.

He compliments your eyes, your complexion and goes on an eager rant of how much he admires your capacity for acting. You drink in the adoration diluted by alcohol and take his words with a pinch of salt. After twenty minutes of solid, drunken conversation you’ve moved to a nook shadowed by statues. Your legs next to his on the red velvet sofa. You remark on the class of the artistic statues, clearly purchased illegally from a Mediterranean museum. He barely takes in your words, much preferring to intoxicate himself with the sight of you - and his fifth beer.

You’ve decided that you want him. Badly. But you’ve sussed him out. He’s not just going to be a one-night stand - in the animal kingdom he’s a Golden Retriever, and those aren’t dogs to be messed with. Your last fling was essentially a Doberman pinscher - discardable - but this Chris had to reeled in slowly.

You interrupt his musing about the Boston markets with a kiss.

Your lips smoothly capture his, your lipstick smearing over his lips. His hand presses tightly on the small of your back, arm underneath your waist holding you up higher. Stars explode inside your eyelids and his fingers grip tightly onto your shirt as your tongue licks his bottom lip. Your entry is granted, you lips pressing tighter against each other. Your eyelashes dance over his. Your hands rise to his face, your hands imprinting themselves onto his cheekbones. His hand brushes over the bare skin of your leg, his fingertips tracing the insides of your thighs. A small moan rises from the back of his throat.

The hold you have on him is cemented, you part away from him. You untangle yourself from him and stand up from the sofa, your eyes refusing to look at him, you smooth your clothes and slowly strut away from him.

Chris looks at the fire that you’ve set on his limbs in disbelief, he doesn’t grasp what you’ve just done. Did he do something wrong? Does he smell? No. You just didn’t care for the ceremony of the first ‘after-kiss’ moments.

He doesn’t see you for a year.

You truly are elusive - to the media and him.

He couldn’t get you out of his mind, and the fact that you starred in another award-nominated film did little to help him forget you.

You were curious to understand whether you really enticed him or not. You decided to not pursue that line of questioning, and never bothered to reply to his direct messages. It wasn’t done with the intent of hurting him, you just didn’t care. But life has a way of putting things in your way that deep down you didn’t know you wanted.

--

Nevertheless, here you are, with your boyfriend of a year - Christopher, sat across from you telling you story about his nephew. You simper, your eyes flitting between the sight of him and the view of the sea. The coast of Martha’s Vineyard enraptures you, you drink your wine, eyes steadily moving to the coastal view.

You grew up coming here. Your family often choosing the quiet island to rest in during the late spring holidays. You brought Chris back here to stay at your family holiday home as it’s not too far from his own family home, a perfect last stop after spending the week with his family.

He watches you curiously, his blue irises begging you to let him in to your thoughts. You refuse silently and beckon the waiter. You ask for the bill, it’s quickly on the table and you pay - ignoring Chris’ refusals. You smile at him, for the second time during dinner. He responds in kind, remarking on your bad mood and how he’s glad you’ve cheered up after having some food. He muses on the lovely weekend you’ve had together as you leave the restaurant. Candlelight following you as you make your exit with your hands holding each other tightly, his other hand in his preppy shorts.

You walk slowly, watching the sunset. His arm finding its way around your shoulders. His sweet and intimate embrace enveloping you in warmth. Your heart beats quickly against his bicep as you near your home. Your hands tremble for some reason and you practically sprint up the porch steps after you’ve crossed the gate and walkway, leaving Chris five steps behind you.

You open the door and make a quick beeline for the kitchen in the far back of the house. You enter the pantry, ignoring Chris’ questions of what is wrong. You take a bottle of Rosé out of the wine fridge and forgo pouring it into a glass and drink it straight from the bottle. It tastes incredibly sweet, and Chris finds you eventually in the pantry. He looks at you in surprise as you gulp the drink.

“Everything okay, baby?” He walks to you, his hands failing onto your hips, his adoring eyes almost boring into your soul. You refuse him entry into the pits of your emotions. Steeling yourself against the onslaught of therapy-like talk.

You don’t want him to know that hurt people, hurt people. And that you’re one of them.

You kiss him, silencing his calming words.

His fingers tighten on your sundress. The colour melding with the colour of his fingers. Your lips become one.

You go through the steps of getting out of the pantry in a seemingly choreographed dance, your dance ends in the smaller reception room; your bodies tangling themselves on the rug. Neither of you giving a care to fact that you’re undressing in front of the window overlooking the pool and coast.

The flickers of the setting sun’s rays highlight his now bare chest. He returns his lips to yours in a hypnotising kiss. Your hands dance with the muscles of his back as you caress his skin, his torso vibrating in between your legs with the fervour of his movements. Your dress is ripped off your body. He directs his attention to your right breast, his soft lips caressing your skin. His tongue lashes slowly against your nipple, you fight to hold back your moans as his hand lowers to your pussy. His fingers pushing aside your pants, his fingers sink into you like it’s their second nature. Your head rolls back as he makes love to you with his fingers and his lips lower down to where his fingers are. He licks you where you need him most, his love for you being written inside you with his tongue.

You orgasm. Slowly.

And all that runs through your mind is how much you’ll miss him.

You pull him up to you, you turn over and straddle him. Tasting yourself on his lips as the sun sets even lower. The waves crash against the shore violently as the wind picks up. You lower yourself onto him and start riding him, your hips bucking in an impassioned manner against his. He doesn’t hold back his moans as he caresses your breasts and stomach.

You realised you loved him four months ago, but every time you catch sight of his loving eyes when you’re fucking, it makes you fall in love all over again.

Chris switches and puts you on all fours, he grips your hair in his hands, the rising intensity making him grip you harder. His thrusts are merciless, his spare hand spanking you and stroking, you’re on the cusp of a sensory overload when he turns you over. On your back you have the most beautiful view. A strong ray of sunlight brightening his eyes as he makes love to you. His kisses are tender but intense. His hand grips onto yours, your fingers intertwined and his other hand griping onto your face.

A tear slips out of your eye, you wipe it away quickly. Your increased sensitivity makes the second orgasm come, Chris fucks you through your breathy moans and you throw your head back. Momentarily blinded by the bliss; the pink sky wakes up from the saccharine, cloudy state. Chris orgasms into you with four thrusts.

You push away from him and stand up; you pull on your silky pants. You sigh and leave Chris on laying breathless on the rug. You walk upstairs and enter your room. You use the toilet, wash your hands, have a glass of water and throw on a short black dress. As you pull on your boots Chris enters the room, a smile gracing his lips.

He pulls on some shorts, “Want to tell me what all that was about?” He gives you a confused expression as he lies back against the bed, taking one of the fluffed pillows from behind him and tucking it between his chest and arms.

Hurt people, hurt people.

You turn towards him, facing away from your walk-in closet. “When we fuck, I have to think about other men to get through it.”

His eyes widen alarmingly, he turns to you, the light of the tv making him blue. “Say that again?” The disbelief is almost tangible in his words.

“I feel embarrassed about being seen with you now. I feel I’m just too good for you.” You walk into the closet and you hear him stomp off the bed.

“No, rewind to what you first said.” His voice is louder, his features twisted with confusion and hurt.

“I have to think of other guys to get off,” your eyes connect with his, you don’t look away, you fight the smirk biting at your lips. “I can’t stand the thought of being with you any longer. I’m sick of it.” You grab the suitcase that was packed for you when you were at the restaurant. “Also, you’re not as ripped as you were when we met, there’s other guys that can provide that image for me.”

“Take it back.” The hurt he’s feeling is completely tangible now. “Take it back right now. Right. Now.” His eyes are pleading with you to have mercy.

You've decided that you've gone past the point of no return. “I’d be happy never have to see you or have to hear from you - ever again.” You scan his eyes, your heart swelling with an eerie feeling of pride as his eyes flood with held back tears.

“This must be some elaborate prank— “he chokes on his words, his hands reach for yours, but you step back.

“This year has been tedious, completely boring and I’ve gotten nothing but only ten decent fucks from you.” Not true, and both of you can attest to that, you've had the best sex, your mutual adoration is clear when you make love. So, Chris is at a loss to understand how this is all being said and happening. “I’m off to New York, stay as long as you like or don’t. I don’t care. Have a nice life.” You slip past him.

Taking his heart and soul with you.

He can’t stop the tears from ballooning in his eyes and then trickling down his cheeks.

He must be stuck in a nightmare. He doesn’t know how long he’s been pacing in this closet filled with your clothes, your smell haunting him.

He rushes downstairs and there’s no sign of you. He stumbles outside and there’s no sign of you or your driver. He rushes in to get his phone and calls you. Five times. The sixth time it goes straight to voicemail.

He feels his heart break.

He falls right in the spot he’s in. He vomits his heart out, the pieces being spat out onto the wooden floors. The blood shinning underneath the soft lights of the lamps.

He wants death. Slow and steady death.

——

Part Deux -

[tales-unique]

FAITH, LOST  II

Tagging @chelseareferenced so she can read this goodness first hand! ;3

Chapter 2

“You have got to be joking!” Heisenberg can’t contain himself, not that he ever censored himself in the past. This is beyond ridiculous, even for the high and mighty bitch herself. He’s quick to turn on his heel to stare down the deceiver but he doesn’t call her out. Not yet anyway. He doesn’t need to, not when Lady Goliath looks about ready to burst a vein. “Mother Miranda, I must protest!” Lady Dimitrescu hisses, eyes practically glowing with rage. “Heisenberg hasn’t the faintest idea of the gift you are giving, he’d sooner throw it to the dogs!”

You wince at how little she regards you, conflicted. As it stands Lady Dimitrescu is fighting viciously to no doubt claim you as her own, which bodes marginally better than the man who would sooner toss you aside without a second thought than look at you. The Countess stands tall but her posture reminds you of a petulant child, demanding to be given what they want. Albeit a regal one. All while Heisenberg stands there with a mean snarl on his lips that brandishes his impressive canines, aimed squarely at Mother Miranda. Lady Beneviento sits silent as the grave watching the exchange while her devilish doll wiggles in excitement on her lap. Lord Moreau lingers on the edge of the fray, wringing his hands; he’s clearly distressed at the fighting and you almost feel ashamed for being the cause of the turmoil. “My decision is final,” Mother Miranda states firmly, voice echoing unnaturally around the room, her form already receding towards the doors. “Mother Miranda, please!” Lady Dimitrescu calls out, a brief look of panic flitting across her porcelain features when she receives no response at all. The cracks are already showing — she will not get her way today. In a desperate attempt to regain control she turns to Heisenberg, who stands tense as he watches Mother Miranda leave. “Heisenberg!” She seethes, hands balled tightly into fists that threaten to snap the delicate neck of her opera length cigarette holder into splinters, “say something!” You watch, helpless, as he casually lifts his hammer, taking his sweet time under Lady Dimitrescu’s smouldering gaze. The others have already made a hasty retreat, following their Mother’s steps closely, leaving you at the mercy of the feuding siblings. When Heisenberg finally locks eyes with her, hammer set proudly on his shoulder, the tension is so thick you struggle to breathe. Then, he smirks. The tautness of his body melts away into a well versed confident swagger, complete with a wolfish grin, and Lady Dimitrescu recoils so quickly in rage that you fear she’s given herself whiplash. The tirade of pure and unadulterated hatred that spills forth is in no way befitting of a woman of such high standing but Heisenberg seems unaffected. In fact, it amuses him to see her become undone when he ignores her. You don’t understand how he’s so calm when faced with such venom, practically cowering when she turns to you, face twisted in indignation. “Now don’t be a sore loser,” he tuts, quickly tugging you to his side, “Mother Miranda made her choice, are you really going to defy her?” He teases, grin widening at the sight of faint colour spreading on the Countess’ face. Heisenberg always knew how to get under skin and make her squirm. Sparing you one last glance Lady Dimitrescu turns sharply on her heel to leave, huffing in annoyance and frustration. Neither of you are worthy of even a biting retort, it seems. “You can breathe, you know.” You startle at Heisenberg’s teasing remark, finally releasing the breath that you didn’t realise you had been holding the whole time. You had been so transfixed on the very real prospect of your demise at the hands of a nine foot tall Vampire woman that you may have neglected that small fact of life. Lightheadedness makes your vision swim and for a moment you think you’re about to faint. If ever there was something to make you feel like you had one foot in the grave that moment was very much it. It does not bear repeating. Heisenberg takes in your deer-in-headlights expression, chuckling at the way his stare makes your little hummingbird heart flutter more. You’re absolutely petrified. It’s understandable, he knows that he’s dangerous and your little flock has more than enough stories about the big bad Lycan master that lets his hounds descend from the ominous Factory to feast on the nonbelievers. Utter bullshit. Well, mostly. But they don’t need to know that, of course. “So,” he drawls, tilting his head, “Mother Miranda says you’re my new— what was it? Ah, right, right, my new servant.” It’s a statement, but you’re not sure if he fully understands what he’s supposed to actually do with you, just like Lady Dimitrescu remarked. You nod shakily, bringing your still bound wrists up in a feeble attempt to warm yourself. It doesn’t offer much, the metal is so cold it brings your skin out in goosebumps. Thankfully, Heisenberg notices. “Oh, uh, sorry about that,” he clears his throat, a sudden switch, and with a flick of his wrist the shackles snap apart and shoot off to the side. They clatter to the ground unceremoniously, rusted and broken. It’s almost sad how much you relate to them at that moment. “T-thank you,” you answer meekly, rubbing at your sore wrists. The blood rushes to your fingers, making them tingle. It’s an odd, but muted, sensation, given the gravity of your situation. He doesn’t reply, merely tips his hat at you before motioning for you to go ahead of him. You’re unsure if it’s because he’s a gentleman or if it’s a power play but you move regardless, your pace hesitant. You’re not eager to be thrust out into the chill of the mountain, not that it’s any warmer inside at this point. You can only hope that the Factory is better than this.

It’s so much worse. The heat— it’s humid, stagnant, and downright heinous. Steam hisses and spits from rusted, internal pipes that streak across the walls and ceilings of the corridors, making the air humid and cloying. Your feet ache through your boots as you try to keep up with Heisenberg's strides, echoing off the metal grating underfoot in an annoying clank clank clank rhythm. In an attempt to cool yourself down you try to sweep up your damp hair from where it sticks to the back of your neck, grimacing at the wetness that covers your fingers. You’re a sweating mess and you hate it. The elevator is your near breaking point. In such a small space the heat intensifies, stuffy and borderline unbearable. It’s normal, your muddled mind tries to rationalize, since the lower levels are closer to the furnace, and it’ll get better once you go up, but it doesn’t take away from discomfort. You notice with great irritation that Heisenberg is barely batting an eyelid, though it’s to be expected. He lives there, of course he’d be used to it. The ride to the upper levels is uncomfortable and not just because of the humidity. His eyes are on you the entire time, at least you think so given those round glasses that he wears obscure his eyes from your view, no doubt wondering just why he’d taken in such a mess. And a mess you most certainly are. Heisenberg can see how your desperately try to keep stringy, moist hair from plastering itself to your sweat-soaked skin, failing miserably as the rebellious strands slip from your fingers. There are dark patches to your simple dress, made worse by how it clings to your body from the heat. He can barely stop himself from smirking when you curse quietly under your breath, rolling your eyes in irritation as you fuss over your hair. It’s the first time that you’ve shown some real spirit. Your annoyance is refreshing on your flushed face, the dim, artificial light casting you in a dewy, warm glow. Sadly, it’s not enough to overpower how badly you need a bath and fresh clothes. “Well, here we are,” he announces as the elevator stops and the door opens up; your new home. It’s another long hallway that looks similar to the dozen odd that you walked through to get here, but you do notice that it’s comparatively cooler. It must be near the top of the Factory. It’s a pleasant relief and you follow Heisenberg to a cluster of rooms a little lighter on your feet. The tour is, well, barely that, as he shows you a bedroom, a kitchen, and a bathroom, all outfitted with the barest of necessities and far too much scrap metal, tools, and other engineering components. You linger in the doorway of the modest bedroom, staring at the single bed pushed up in the corner as though that’s the out of place object in the room. He leaves you for a moment, fumbling through papers and projects on the heavily cluttered desk that takes up the length of one wall, and you wander the hallway, peeking inside rooms with doors slightly ajar. Most are storage rooms with all sorts of junk inside, but one looks salvageable with an old, banged up couch and minimal debris. As you look about envisioning how to make it more homely, leaning against the door frame, you’re not paying attention and it gives Heisenberg the perfect opportunity to scare you. “Found yourself a room, huh?” He whispers into your ear, pulling back quickly as you shriek in alarm and swing out your arm instinctively to hit him. You can barely hear your heart hammering wildly in your chest over the sound of his raucous laughter, retreating from him quickly. “Why would you do that?” You shout, wide eyes staring at him. Heisenberg can barely pull himself together, breaking into small fits of laughter at the sight of your astonished expression, exhaling deeply to try and ground himself. “Couldn’t help it,” he explains, grinning at you, “it was a perfect setup!” Flabbergasted, your mouth falls open at his response; this man was one of the four Lords of the village, not some child playing tricks! Noticing the offense you take at his actions Heisenberg scoffs, his own expression souring as he turns away from you. What was he honestly thinking? You were just another haughty, stuck-up, loyalist to Mother fucking Miranda that clearly wouldn’t know a joke if it came up and slapped you in the face. “Bathroom is right there, you reek,” he snaps harshly, pointing into a small room lined with cracked, dirty tiles and rusting, dated appliances. You glare at his back, wordlessly going inside and doping your best to slam the door shut, but all you manage is a half-descent rattle. You look about yourself and suppress a shiver of disgust, staring at the old, rusting shower that has clearly seen better days, questioning whether you can forgo washing after all. Needs must, you think to yourself, as you dig out the cleanest towel you can find from a rickety old cabinet in the corner. Thankfully the water is fine when you turn the handle and you quickly strip to take advantage of the first good thing since you came to the Factory. As you stand under the tepid spray you wonder if you are, as Mother Miranda had said, perfect for this task. Doubt nips at your resolve and tries to whittle down your faith, but you refuse to let it win. You must succeed, for Mother Miranda.