#but I believe his best path forward is acceptance

[epicfroggz]

Do you think miquella's needle could have helped Messmer? I believe that if the tarnished gave him that (in an AU) at least his Fire curse/the Fell God's influence would have been removed, and probably the Abyssal Serpent too would've left him, since wasn't it staying in his body because of Messmer's kindling to begin with? Without that source of infinite power it would have no reason to stay there, right? Or maybe miquella's needle is powerful enough to remove two curses at the same time, who knows. What do you think?

Also, hypothetically speaking, after both his curses are gone, how would he look? Sorry for this weird question, but I actually want to draw Messmer in an AU where he isn't cursed anymore, but I need some guidance from people who are more informed and smarter than me to make it as close to canon as possible lol. Personally, I think he would obviously still have his deformed body with his snake-friends, but under his flesh there would be no visible serpents, and no more scales on his skin, but when it comes to his face? I believe he would still miss his eyes, but maybe without the burned skin? I really don't know, but I would like to hear your interpretation about this one too.

Thanks in advance, and sorry for my English, it's not my mother tongue. Have a nice day!

Hi, thanks for the ask! I’m afraid I don’t have a good answer for you, though…

The thought disturbs me, Messmer without the serpent entirely. But, for the purpose of the AU, I suppose he would look like he did with the seal, like phase 1 Messmer. The burns on his face would have mostly healed, and he would either wear a blindfold or find a suitable replacement for his eye, like a glass eye.

But, I am of the belief that the Abyssal Serpent is not a curse. I agree Miquella’s needle would be able to quench the Fell God’s flame within him, but I’m not sure if that makes him better off than he was either. Despite hating it, Messmer found a way to use his flames for good and share it with his army, going so far as to develop incants and weapons for them to use when the flame did not take within them. He has complete control over it. (Of course, “good” here is the decimation of his mother’s enemies—it’s a matter of perspective lol.)

Messmer and the serpent are too entangled together to be separated I think. If they were separated somehow, Messmer would be but a husk of his former self. Removing his “curses” makes him what his mother wanted, but is that really what’s best for him? He’d be a demigod, but one without grace, without power, without a significant part of himself—what’s left? He has already forsaken his mother by removing the seal. There would be nothing for him, no purpose. When Morgott, our only in-game example, is stripped of his Omen curse, he dies.

It would result in a pretty dismal fate, if you ask me. I am certain there is a way to make it nice, but you would have to ask someone else, sorry… Good luck with your AU!

- Froggo

[itsblubun]

Talking about Nathaniel and the homophobia allegory / artist themes in The Ruler because I am not sane (very unorganized thoughts ahead)

First of, oh my god the homophobia allegory. I have so many sporadic thoughts that I'll try my best to explain.

Homophobia is such a taboo topic, especially in children's cartoons, that it's incredibly refreshing to see miraculous of all shows tackle it with such forwardness. There's really not all that much sugarcoating, it's the story of a queer kid growing up in a homophobic household, having heteronormativity indoctrinated onto him, having to deal with close-minded family who refuse to support you, because they fully believe you're on the wrong path, making decisions that will "ruin your life", claiming your passions as "just a phase", and being threatened to live in isolation from your peers, the people you are most close with in the world due to being "a bad influence" on you.

They push their ideologies so hard on Nath that he actually goes through with what they say. He destroys his art, literally shreds the story he's worked so hard on because of his mother. She says so many times how she's going to "set him straight", saying that he needs to be "converted" to be successful or for the world to accept you. That his art is meaningless and immature and he needs to make "real art".

His father also adds onto it by saying the comic book knights should fall in love with the literal villain because "that's what people want to see". Like the relationship between the knights wasn't sentimental, like it was meaningless, like it wasn't love.

Marc's parents also show up for the first time, and they're the complete opposite. They're incredibly supportive, accepting, kind, and they absolutely love the script for their comic, saying that it clearly came from the heart. They let Marc express himself, they let Marc love who he wants to love. It's honestly a bit jarring to compare Marc's parents to Nathaniel's. (Nath always looks so sad with them oh my heart 😭)

But despite everything I just said, the ending is a really beautiful conclusion.

The comic knights get to be together, and Nathaniel finally gets the acceptance of his family. His mom finally accepts him for who he is, and supports the art he makes. Because it's so clear now, that it's from the heart. And that's the most beautiful thing art can be.

A lot of artists have dealt with invalidation, wether from uneducated people or other artists, for "not being professional" or "not what's expected to make in in the industry". Because these artists choose to make the art they want to, choose to express themselves and be bold.

Nathaniel's mom being an architect really sells the themes of art in the episode. She's strict, unbending, and she clearly has very closed minded views on what art should or shouldn't be made. In her standards, if it's not in a museum, it's not art. But that's just simply not true.

Art is a beautiful thing, in whatever form it is. It's pure, it's passionate, it's what makes us human.

While its incredibly refreshing to see such a bold queer allegory in a kids show, it's also beautiful to see the story of an artist like Nathaniel be put front and center and tackle the many sides and points of view that someone can have on your art.

Because, while his mom sees it as immature, his friends and boyfriend absolutely LOVE it. They adore the story they're telling and literally flock in a circle to be able to see it.

And then the fact that the episode ends with Marc and Nathaniel revealing their identities to each other, the same way the comic knights revealed theirs... Ties the allegory with a beautiful bow and ships it over straight to my heart.

I love this episode so much, and I seriously can't wait to see more. Miraculous team, you cooked.

[moonstruckme]

I am clean from sh for about 6 months now (yay me) and lately, idk why, I’ve just kinda been struggling with accepting my scars and the fact that I’ll have them probably forever and your writing is really comforting and actually helps, so I wanted to ask if u could maybe write something with Spencer helping reader feel ok with having them on reader‘s thighs?

totally understand that that’s a touchy topic and if u don’t wanna write it, I also completely get it, thanks anyway for even reading this xxx

Ahh yay you!!! Congrats baby, and thank you for requesting <3

cw: past self harm, some nudity that's really not sexual but they joke about it a bit

Spencer Reid x fem!reader ♡ 1.3k words

You’re sweltering. D.C. doesn’t usually get very warm, but for the last week you’ve been on a streak of record-breaking temperatures that’s made your clothes stick to your skin and has caused even your perpetually chilled boyfriend to refrain from putting on his cardigan until he gets inside his work each morning. Just walking between your car and various air conditioned buildings is enough to make you consider moving to the Arctic. 

“Oh my god,” you groan, flopping inelegantly down on the bed to peel your jeans off. “Can we turn the A/C down to sixty, please?” 

“Let’s start with seventy,” Spencer negotiates. You hear his footsteps stop halfway down the hall as he adjusts the monitor. “I think we still have some lemonade left, if you want some.”

“Ugh, yes.” You tear your jeans off your ankles with enough force to nearly send them flying across the room and sigh blissfully as the A/C kicks on. 

You change out of your sweaty shirt too, going for your pajamas despite it being hours from darkness falling. You have no plans to go out into that hellscape again until tomorrow. You hesitate over a pair of pajama shorts before slipping on loose pants instead, not quite as cool but still light enough to allow some air flow. 

“I love you,” you tell Spencer when he passes you your lemonade as you come into the living room, sitting beside him on the couch. Ice clinks inside your glass, which is already forming little beads of condensation. You have the urge to rub it on your face. “I mean, unconditionally, but especially right now.” 

“I’ll take it,” he jokes back, tilting his head back so his face is in the path of the A/C vent. When he looks up, he finds you pinching up the fabric of your pants around your knees, trying to create a pathway for the air to move up your legs. “Why are you wearing those?”

You know what he’s asking you, and you intentionally misunderstand. “I felt like it was pajama time. No way am I going outside again today.” 

“Right, but aren’t you warm?” Spencer tilts his head. He looks like a particularly cunning puppy, brown eyes soft and inquisitive.

“A little,” you admit. 

“Then why not wear something shorter?” 

“That’s awfully forward of you.” You do your best to give him a smile. It doesn’t stick around long in the face of your boyfriend’s serious expression, increasingly worried. “Maybe I don’t feel like parading my legs around for you.” 

You can see the cogs turning in Spencer’s brain, and the usually fascinating process is suddenly almost painful to watch. You know he’s thinking of what you refusing to wear shorts used to mean, how nobody ever thought anything of it because, again, D.C. doesn’t tend to get very warm. How evasive you were about it then, too. An uncomfortable weight settles in your stomach. 

“Is there a reason you don’t want them out?” he asks, and his voice is gentle but his gaze is unflinching. 

You try to hold it as you shake your head. “I’m still clean.” The words seem to take more air than they should. Your guilt and embarrassment are enough to choke on. “I promise.” 

Spencer nods. “I believe you.” 

His eyes don’t so much as twitch down to your covered thighs. Relief like a cool breeze passes through you. It’s no small thing, his trust in you. Not after you’d gone so far out of your way to hide the evidence of your hurt from him before. 

“But it’s still related to that, isn’t it?” He lifts his glass, taking a sip before wiping the corner of his mouth. You almost smile, picturing your boyfriend in an interrogation room asking questions with this same gentle tone and wide open, curious expression. You don’t think Spencer could ever be harsh. 

“Yeah,” you say. What felt like something private and humiliating a minute before you suddenly want to share with him. Spencer tends to have that effect on you; he makes divulging your most gut-twisting secrets feel natural and easy. “My scars just haven’t gone away. I don’t really want to see them.” 

Spencer’s mouth pinches. “You know they won’t ever fully go away, right?” 

“Yeah.” You sigh, but it doesn’t feel like letting anything out. “I know.” 

“They will probably fade, though.” His fingers circle your ankle loosely, calluses skimming softly over your achilles tendon. “Is it that you don’t want to see them, or you don’t want me to?” 

You rub your lips together. Shrug. “Both, I guess.” 

He tilts his head. Like your answer is expected, but nonetheless perplexing. “I don’t care if I see them,” he says. His hand coasts up your leg, over the fabric of your pants, until he grasps it by your knee. “Can I?” 

You nod. You know he’d let it go if you said no, but it’s not worth begrudging him. “Sure.” 

Spencer brings both hands to the fabric at your hips, and you lift your bum up off the couch as he pulls downwards. Your legs are happy to breathe, the cool air coming out of the vent even nicer than you’d thought it would be. Spencer keeps going until your pajama pants are balled up underneath your feet. 

“You really were hot,” he says. It’s neither teasing nor gloating, a simple statement of fact. His fingers come to rest at your ankle again, and it’s the only kind of warmth you’ll allow. “Is it actually worth it?” 

You look down at your thighs. Your skin feels better than it had covered up, but it’s also a physical reminder of things you’d rather forget. “I don’t know,” you reply. 

“I understand why you don’t like them,” Spencer says. When you look up, you expect him to be as stuck on your scars as you are, but he’s looking at your face. His stare is calm and unmoving, like they don’t command his attention the way they do yours. “But I think they may be with you for a while. It might help to start trying to get used to them.” 

You blow out a breath. “I want to.” 

“I know,” he says. Easily, the way he’d said I believe you. And you think that he probably does know. Spencer has things from his past he can’t fully leave behind, too. 

His forefinger moves slowly up and down the back of your ankle, an absentminded gesture for him and a comfort for you. Slowly, his eyes dip down to your legs. You fight the urge to squirm and hide. 

“You know,” he muses, “there’s actually one thing I sort of like about seeing them.” 

Your top lip starts to curl automatically, your brows pulling together. “What?” 

“Just, that they’re old.” Spencer seems not to have noticed your reaction. His gaze is contemplative. “I mean, it’s not that I’m looking for them all the time or anything, but it’s nice to see them and know there aren’t going to be any new ones. These ones will fade, and then that will be it.” 

Something new clogs your throat. It’s just as heavy as before, but far kinder. 

Spencer looks up at you. He looks sheepish, the corner of his mouth uptilted self-consciously. “Sorry, it’s a weird line of thinking. I don’t want you to think I’m always checking on them.”

“No,” you swallow, “I get it. That’s nice, Spence.” 

He shrugs. “It’s the truth.” 

You could almost laugh. He makes things so simple. “I’ll change into shorts.” 

“You don’t have to,” he says. “If you’re already cooling off.” 

“Oh, yeah?” You keep your voice light, grinning at him as you shuffle over to straddle his lap. His fingers brush over a couple of the lines on your thigh as he brings them around your back, and the sensation doesn’t make you feel as shuddery as usual. You hug him with your arms around his neck. “You’re cool with me just staying like this then? No pants?” 

“Not if you don’t want to wear them,” he says agreeably. 

You laugh and hug him harder. “Thanks,” you tell him sincerely. 

Spencer only makes a soft dismissive sound as he hugs you back. 

[julietcpulet]

Resentment vs. Change

The palace women vs. Jinshi and Maomao

(Spoilers) So much of the end of LN 4 focuses on the different ways people learned how to respond to the resentment and abuse that has built up since the reign of the former Emperor. It’s contrasting Jinshi and Maomao who have both grown up suffering consequences from that reign but are using it to make decided change vs the palace women from that time who decided instead on paths of revenge and self-destruction, often becoming abusers themselves.

We see Jinshi who has been compared to the former Emperor multiple times by the women who only would’ve known him then, unfortunately because no one knows Ah-Duo is his mother and that’s who he resembles. As such he’s been subjected to fearful resentment and claims of illegitimacy as well as the terrible weight of guilt from these women for an accountability of the past Emperor’s actions that is not his own, merely for his looks. Instead of making himself a victim though he’s tried to improve the lives of those in the rear palace, the women trust him and as evidenced by his speech to the fake Loulan, he knows all of them there, down to the smallest detail. We could say that’s a frightening thing but Jinshi has shown incredible restraint for a person of only 19 years of age. He knows their names and details in order to care for them as people and individuals. Later he makes it clear this system of “a garden of women” doesn’t appeal to him and his whole goal is to keep those he loves away from it (namely Maomao). The point here being that instead of letting the abuse and trauma he’s experienced of living a life of others looking at him as if he’s at all similar to the former Emperor just because he bears a resemblance, he took that chance to make the line between them clear, to do something wholly different than that Emperor and his own father.

The same goes for Maomao. She was a product of palace politics in that her father was taken from her mother due to what happened with the La Clan because of Luomen’s involvement in the delivery of the consorts children. This pulled Lakan away from the family and while it resulted in Luomen becoming her adopted father, Maomao suffered immense trauma from her mother descending into sickness and abusing her as a baby. She also didn’t have the best upbringing with the courtesans. But instead of letting these things sour her towards revenge or bitterness, she uses her knowledge to help others even if she can act like she merely wants to be a bystander. She doesn’t let the problems that have come about in her life be a deterrent to helping people going forward. Like when the opportunity presents itself she maneuvers things in such a way that her father and mother have the possibility be together again. Also she puts forward Luomen to come back to the rear palace even though he was banished and it’s at great risk to suggest him. She believes in Gyokuyou and even I would say Jinshi to accept him back without treating him as a criminal. These choices show that while Maomao has been through a lot she manages to find opportunities to improve the situations of those around her without making it about being a victim.

As for the palace women, many took the opposite path like Shinmei and Shenlu. Yes, we know and are shown that they were brought into the rear palace and taken advantage of by the former Emperor, that is a fact not to be diminished. But I believe the whole point here is about what a person chooses to do with their past. Can they move past it and make better out of it or does it just become resentment never to be changed? The palace women chose the path of never ending revenge that got them nothing but fear, destruction and sadness. It was disheartening to see these women blame Jinshi for appearing in a way he had no control over. Like him taking the blame on himself and being willing to take the scar from Shisui so her mother could get revenge on a man long dead. It proves that some people (Shenmei) will hold onto victimhood and grudges to the point of becoming abusers to others who shouldn’t shoulder that blame.

To me the story is meant to portray the importance of the choice to acknowledge the wrongs of the past but learn to put them in their rightful place. Not to keep dwelling on what has gone and harming those who had no part in it but to help those who can be helped now. And that’s the difference Jinshi and Maomao show for the present. Taking steps to try and root out the problems of the rear palace, to change it for the better for the women now in the ways they’re able. Maomao with her medical knowledge and Jinshi with the power he holds. From eliminating face powder, disciplining harmful ladies in waiting and being able to help a difficult pregnancy, to so many other instances, it’s things like this that have shown Jinshi and Maomao are about change and not about making themselves the victims regardless of what they’ve suffered. Because no amount of payback would make a person feel better for abuse but proving that good could come from choosing not to dwell in the past, that’s a worthwhile endeavor.

[3amfanfiction]

It’s just dinner

Kyle asks you to have dinner with his captain—that’s normal, right?

2.1k, CW: sex work, unknowing prostitution, manipulation, gazslighting, enjoy!

You don’t know how you got here.

You’d think it would be obvious—what actions caused which responses, what conversations indicated acceptance. But as most things do, it all started so innocently.

Kyle was the perfect boyfriend. He was caring, understanding, and gave mind blowing head. Sure, sometimes he got a little bossyprotective, but it was always in your best interest!

He needed to know who you were hanging out with to make sure he could find you if there was an emergency. And he ended up being right about your friends, they weren’t looking out for your best interest.

You had a good thing with Kyle and it broke your heart when he came to you about your best friend propositioning him while you were out of town. You never would’ve believed it if he didn’t show you the texts himself. Honestly, it’s for the best that you cut ties. You haven’t had a chance to find new friends just yet— scared to put yourself out there as well as Kyle becoming extra protective over you after that incident. He practically glued himself to your side, wouldn’t even let you out of the house alone after that. He always looked out for you — the perfect boyfriend.

Maybe that’s why you didn’t push back very hard when he first brought it up.

“I know this makes you uncomfortable love, but it’s the Captain. I trust him with my life and he’s done so much for me—for us, lately,” he brushed the tips of his fingers along your hairline, down to your temple in a soft caress.

You were sitting on his lap, both legs thrown to one side while you leaned your shoulder against his chest. He had pulled you onto him shortly after lunch, saying he had something to talk to you about. Honestly, you were expecting a vacation—not this.

When you don’t respond to his statement he continues, “Remember last month when I was home for your birthday?” you nod shallowly, eyes darting to the side, “Cap pulled in quite a few favors to make it happen. I told him how important it was to you and he delivered.”

You force a swallow, trying to work up any amount of moisture in your mouth as your stomach knots in discomfort, “I didn't ask him to do that, Kyle,” defensive, why did you feel like you were in the wrong? “Regardless, why would he want dinner with me?”

This felt so far out of the realm of ordinary you didn’t have a clear path forward.

You’d spoken with John Price a handful of times. There had been get togethers with Kyle’s team and you’d gotten to visit with all of them. While your conversations with John were always easy, you felt they weren’t anything out of the ordinary.

“Hey now, I don’t want to hear any of that," Kyle frowns at you in admonishment. "You’re gorgeous and smart and any guy would be lucky if you gave them the time of day.” He cups your face in his palms, turning you fully towards him, “I love spending time with you, is it any surprise that my captain, the man I admire, also wants to spend time with you?”

His eyes are warm brown pools and they pull you into his orbit with ease. You feel yourself begin to fold. “I mean, wouldn’t it be weird?” You try, searching for a handhold in this free fall, “We’re dating and you want me to go on a date with another man. Wouldn't that make you uncomfortable?”

You try and turn your head away, attempting to put some space between the two of you so that you could breathe. It felt like you were drowning in his pull. He gently guided your face back towards his before shaking his head exasperatedly. “Love, it’s John,” as if you were a toddler that asked if you would go down the drain with the bath water. He tilts your head down to kiss the furrow between your brows before pulling you back up, eye to eye, “there’s no one safer I would have you with. Now, no more of this, you’ll have dinner with him this weekend.” His ‘I mean business’ voice coming out and you knew you had lost any chance of further arguments.

“Okay,” you stammer weakly, “okay, you’re right. It’s just dinner with your captain. I can do that.” You try to reassure yourself. You honestly don’t know why you’re so nervous. He’s always been a perfect gentleman, if a bit of a flirt, whenever you would speak. And it was just dinner. It would be like going to grab a meal with a friend.

Really.

Why were you being such a baby about this? You felt kind of silly that you were making the situation bigger than it was, now that a decision had been made.

Kyle beamed at you as if you had just told him you loved him for the first time. He peppered kisses all over your face, his faint stubble tickling the sensitive skin of your jaw and neck. “Such a good girl for me, pet,” in between nips and flicks of his tongue, “you’re absolutely perfect, do you know that?”

You giggle and wrap your arms around the back of his neck, keeping him close to you and tilting your chin to give him more access, “Yes, yes, I know, I’m wonderful.” You say in mock haughtiness.

You gasp as his hands work their way under your top to flick and pinch at your nipples, “so bloody wonderful,” is growled into your skin.

Before you can blink you’ve been flipped onto your back on the couch, Kyle pressing into your soft body, pinning you down. “Let me show you just how wonderful you are—” is all the warning you get before you’re stripped naked and he makes his way between your thighs, showing his appreciation. Again and again . . . . and again.

///

That led to tonight. Date night. With Captain John Price.

John was sitting across from you, eyes crinkled with the force of his smile as took you in.

“Doll, you look—“ here he trailed off for a second, looking for the perfect word, “like a dream.” He decided on with a decisive nod. You had to admit, he wasn't wrong.

Yesterday, Kyle convinced you that you needed a new outfit before your dinner with Captain Price.

"I can't have you showing up without looking your finest, babe," he said, bundling you into the car to head downtown. "We're going all out, do you hear me? New dress, new shoes, new lingerie."

"Kyle Garrick! We are not buying me new lingerie. This is just a dinner!" you screech at him in shock, astounded by his audacity and maybe a little bit hurt when he laughed at you.

"Calm down babe, it's nothing like that," he reassures as if you're a spooked horse, "that'll just be for us. You're going to be sitting with the Captain—eating dinner, laughing at his jokes, batting these pretty eyelashes for him— and I want to know that you're dressed like an absolute slut under your pretty dress."

Your damp panties made sure you couldn't look anyone in the eye the whole time you were at the boutique.

The fact that he made you pose for pictures before stepping into your dress tonight was very on brand for him. I need something to keep me company while you're at dinner. I'm going to be lonely sitting here all by myself while you're having fun.

You realized your date for the evening was looking at you, waiting for your response. You smoothed your palms over your thighs bashfully, "thank you, Captain Price. You look very handsome tonight also."

"Bah! I've told you pet, it's John. No need for formalities between us," he brushed you off with a smooth shrug of his wide shoulders, reaching across the table to pat your hand, leaving his palm to linger for a few heartbeats before withdrawing.

For tonight's dinner he had poured himself into a button up that was straining at the seams to keep his mass contained. A watch glinted at his wrist, drawing your gaze to his strong hands and thick fingers. His scarred knuckles causing something to flutter deep inside.

"John, then," you felt your cheeks warm with the gentle chastisement, taking a small sip of your drink to give yourself a moment to recenter. When you reached forward to set the glass back down you noticed John's eyes zero in around your shoulder, his gaze shifting away after a few moments, something flitting across his gaze, too quickly for you to make out.

"Tell me about your week, pet, what have you done?"

What followed was several hours of conversation and laughter, with good food and drinks mixed in. John had you eating off his fork, here love, you have to try these potatoes. I've never had them better, drinking his whiskey, you haven't had something this smooth in your mouth before, dove. Give it a sip, no I'll hold the glass, just tilt that pretty chin up for me, and slapping at his shoulder with an admonishing John Price! when he moved his chair around the table to whisper into your ear about the other patrons at the restaurant. His lips touching the sensitive skin with every gravely word spoken, those two over there? It's definitely their first date. Look at them, I bet he's going to have her dress up around her waist before they even make it out of the parking lot. I bet if we listen closely we'll be able to hear her squealing.

You did your best to mask the shudder that went down your spine as he continued, ignoring your censure as if you hadn't spoken, his deep voice causing the hair on your arms to rise. You were completely unprepared for his big palm to come down on your thigh under the table. If he wouldn't have been pressing down so firmly, your jolt would have sent your knee slamming into the underside of the table.

"Are you okay pet? Not cold, are you?" he asked in a concerned burr, already starting to reach for his jacket, ready to bundle you up if needed.

"No, no, I'm okay John," you reassured. As tempting as it was to be wrapped up in a thick coat that smelled like John's tobacco and woody cologne, it was probably best if you didn't cross that line. It felt too much like what someone would do when they were out on a date. You didn't want to send the wrong impression—you were here for a dinner between friends, that was all.

John of course was perfectly understanding. "Lovely. I'd hate to cover up that beautiful dress, anyways," he gave you a wink like you two were in on a joke together. He straightened back up to continue his comentary of the different dates happening in the restaurant.

You hadn't noticed it at first, but each table did in fact seem to be on a date. There wasn't a single group or family sitting down for dinner, it was all made up of couples. How strange.

With your last drinks finished, it was time for the night to be over. John pulled your chair back for you before offering his arm, walking you outside.

Standing under the stars, he reached up to adjust the shoulder of your dress with a secretive smile, fingers lingering to brush the soft skin before raising his hand to cup your jaw. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss into your cheek, keeping your face still—pinned.

After a heartbeat too long, he pulled back, the car service reaching the curb. He helped you into the backseat with a soft 'goodnight, pet, until next time'.

///

When you get home Kyle is waiting up, watching a movie quietly on the couch. He stands to greet you with a smile and a hug.

"My best girl, I've missed that pretty face," he crows, drawing you in for a kiss that never seems to end, making out like teenagers. Kyle seems ravenous, like he will die if he doesn't get the breath straight from your lungs. Your fingers press into his tight curls while his hands grope and squeeze the fat of your hips, kneading you similar to a cat.

He finally pulls back, leaving you panting and dazed, unsure of what precipitated—a reward? That's what it felt like, like a reward for doing something correctly. Mistake after mistake and you finally nailed the trick, aren't you so smart?

One final peck to your lips and he's taking a step back. He glanced down towards your shoulder and gives a little laugh, 'your pretty new bra is showing baby, are you trying to tease me?'

|||

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[maxinehufflepuffprincess]

I Love You

Chishiya Shuntaro x Reader x Niragi Suguru

Taglist. Masterlist. Progress Update. Love Line Collection.

Summary: You tell the boys you love them.

When you first realise you love a person, something inside of you bursts. It makes your heart stop and flutter at the same time. It makes your mind feel both clear and foggy at the same time. It makes your stomach flip and feel like it's turning into knots. It leaves you with a sense of fear and confidence within you. It makes you feel like you could fly. It makes you feel like you could be torn apart in seconds. It makes you ready to see the world in a new way. It makes you ready to hold everything you hold dear close to you, willing to burn the world to ashes.

Not everyone believes they deserve love. Not everyone thinks they'll find love. Not everyone thinks they'll find the person who makes them smile just by catching a glimpse of them. The person who just had to smile at you and your worst day suddenly becomes the best. Some people believe they don't need love. It makes things messy, and not everyone wants that kind of mess. Love can tear a person apart. To put the worst parts of themselves forward and never look back. It can make you act without thinking. Hurting anyone and anything in your path. Love can make you feel like you're losing your mind.

Then there are the people who wish for nothing more. To be able to find the person who makes them feel at home. To find the person who can soak up the little moments with. To have the feeling of a hand in yours or lips on your temple. Arms holding you close at night like nothing in the world could ever tear the two of you apart. Some people see the mess. The arguments, the hugs, the playful moments, the tears, the kisses, the promises. They see the good and the bad and decide it's worth it. It's worth it for that one person. Or in this case, for those two people.

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

You had been wanting to tell Chishiy and Niragi those three words for a while now. But never seemed like the right moment. A small voice in the back of your head had you worried. Because what if they weren't ready for that step yet? And yet, you knew you had to tell them. They deserved to hear it. Even if they couldn't say it back just yet.

The three of you were enjoying a rare moment at the pool. The beach was so quiet. Like no one even lived there. But in reality, most people were sleeping off the night's party. So, you had taken the opportunity to actually use the pool with your boyfriends.

Chishiya was sitting on the edge of the pool. His legs are in the pool. Niragi was in the water. Though he was leaning against the pool edge, next to Chishiya. One of his hands rested on the blonde's thigh. You were on Chishiya's other side. Your elbows on the pool's edge as you looked up at the man. His hand ran through your wet hair.

"You sure you don't want to get back in?" Niragi asked the blonde. Chishiya had gotten out of the pool not too long ago. Chishiya shook his head as he looked at Niragi. "I'm good here, watching you two splash around." Chishiya liked those moments. The ones where he could watch his two favorite people be at their happiest. Of course, he adored joining the two of you. But sometimes, all he needed was to sit back and watch. It was like he was letting this all sink in again. This was real. You were there, Niragi was there. The star and sun. Suppose that made him the moon.

Niragi shook his head as he gave Chishiya's thigh a soft squeeze. Those were the things he lived for. The touches. The hand holding. The hugs and cuddles. His arms wrapped around your waist or Chishiya's shoulders. He lived for when you both leaned into him. Like he deserved the touch of another person. The feeling it gave him was like a rush of acceptance. It wasn't something he had once been using to. It was something he was still getting used to. But it was the touches that reminded him this was real. You were here. With your giggles and happiness. That Chishiya no longer hated him so much that he wanted to burn him alive. Touching one of you also seemed to help ground him in a way. He was still ruthless. Murderous. But he had softened. One touch from either of you and he'd lay his weapons down.

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

You quietly looked between the two. The way they were looking at each other made you swoon. You were proud of them. They had gone from hating each other, from threatening and fighting, to holding each other and opening up. The fact that they were both smiling at each other made you smile. The way Chishiya smiled whenever Niragi squeezed his thigh didn't go unnoticed by you. You loved seeing that glint of recognition in Niragi's eyes whenever Chishiya praised him for something. Because he knew Chishiya didn't look down on him anymore.

The two turned to look at you. A grin adorned Niragi's lips. Chishiya had a small smile. Both just looked at you. Neither could forget about you. Neither could forget their light. You looked between the two of them. Niragi's body was wet. Hair all over the place and dripping wet. The way he looked so relaxed and at peace. He was having fun just being in the pool and talking. Chishiya had his jacket on. It was a little damp since he was still a little wet. His hair wasn't totally dry either. Water droplets dripped down from the strands, running down his shoulders and underneath his jacket. You were pretty sure they were as close to perfect as a human could be. Both beautiful in their own right.

"I love you both." You spoke softly.

Silence. The two looked at each other and then back at you. You looked between them for a moment. You turned your body to fully face them. You reached out, gently taking their hands in yours.

"You don't have to say it back. I don't want this to be something you think you have to say. I want you to say it when you're both ready. I just needed you both to know. You're my world. You're the first thing I think of when I wake up and my last thought before I sleep. You make me feel safe, happy, at home. You make me feel like I'm the prettiest girl. Like I'm worth something. You both make me feel whole." You poured your feelings out before them. Letting them take it.

You looked up at Chishiya. "I love you. I love everything about you. I love how smart you are. How you dominate Diamond games. I love how you even in the worst situations, you can stay so cool and collected. Like you were waiting for it to happen. I love you. Including the parts of you that don't think I should. I've seen you puppeteer people to their deaths. I've seen you look down on people for being stupid. I love how you can turn anything into a weapon. I love how you let me in. I think you're so incredibly gorgeous. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise. I admire how you watch a person and know how to both build them up and rip them apart. I love your sassy side. You're cheekiness and willingness to push things. I love how you hold me. I love the feeling of how gentle you are when you brush my hair or help me paint my nails. I love your smile. Your heartbeat is one of my favourite sounds. I love you, Chishiya." You smiled up at him. You could see his brain turning, taking in your words. His bottom lip quivered for a moment.

Then you turned to Niragi. You squeezed his hand. "Niragi, I love you. I've seen you shoot people for looking at you wrong. I've seen you push a man in the pool because he looked at you for too long. I love you. I love your sharp tongue and your wit. Because you are so fucking smart. But you hide it behind violence. I've seen you go into games and treat them like you're at a funfair. I love how you sleep on the right side of the bed because you're ready to fight anyone who dares to come into our room to hurt us. I love that you don't hesitate for those you care about. I love that you gave Kuina a chance, and not just because we wanted you to. I love hearing you laugh. Like everything is right in the world. I love your piercing. I love your cockyness and your confidence. I love how you hold me. You're so incredibly handsome. You know that, right? I love you, Niragi."

Niragi squeezed Chishiya's thigh. Trying to ground himself as your words sank in. His chest felt heavy and light at the same time.

"I love that you both have let me see all the different sides of you. That you let me see the good, the bad and the dark. I love that you both make me feel so safe that I can tell you anything. That you both feel so safe to tell me and each other anything."

"Loving you both is as easy as breathing."

-------

Your words lingered in the air. You didn't expect anything from either of them. You just needed them to know. And your words sank in. Both were lost deep in thought. You were in love with them. Men who treated people like they were nothing. Boys who acted like they were above every person they crossed paths with. Guys who were so willing to kill at the drop of a hat.

But you saw that and you still loved them. You didn't try to change them. You didn't ask them to change. They had softened up and let you in because they wanted to. Because being with you and each other just felt so right. Like the three of you were always meant to find each other. Like the three of you were in your own little twisted yet beautiful fairy tale. A beauty, a monster and a beast. All happy together, feeling something they never had before. The feeling was lovely yet so scary.

Chishiya looked down at Niragi. The two shared a look. He reached out and wiped a tear off of Niragi's cheek. Niragi didn't even realise he had been crying. It wasn't a lot, but still. Everything you said had made them both realise that this was real. That's what the three of you had was real. They weren't imagining it. It wasn't just fun. It was raw and it was real and it was everything.

---------

Niragi pulled you closer to the two of them. "Baby." He said as he placed a hand on your cheek. "I love you too. I love both of you." He said as he looked up at Chishiya. "I never thought I'd find anyone to love me or I would want to love, let alone two people. You make me want to be a better person."

Chichiya sucked in a breath. "I never thought I needed love. I thought it was pointless and stupid and a mess not worth making. However, being with you two makes feelings bubble up, and it feels good. I don't want to stop feeling like this. I love both of you."

You smiled sweetly at the two. Your heart could burst. They both love you. Niragi leaned forward and kissed your lips. Your lips moved in sync. The kiss was passionate and deep. Like he was trying to show you how he felt through the kiss. And you felt everything he was trying to say.

A hand on your chin pulled your face away after you and Niragi pulled back from the kiss to breathe. It had left you breathless. Soon enough, you felt Chishiya's lips on yours. His kiss was hungry yet soft. Like everything he wanted to say wasn't nearly enough. He drew you close, and your lips moved in perfect harmony. The kiss made your head spin.

Chishiya pulled away before looking at Niragi. The two leaned in and kissed. It was probably the softest kiss they had ever shared. But the kiss did its job. It told the two everything they needed to know. What they had with you was real. What they had with each other was just as real.

The two parted, and the three of you smiled at one another. A new step in your relationship had been taken, and you couldn't be happier. You'd found your love. You were lucky enough to hold the hearts of two people in the palm of your hands and have them trust you entirely to keep them safe and happy. Their love was everything to you.

To them, loving you was easier than breathing.

---------

Taglist: Thank you for supporting me.

@thecheshireprincess @mocchii-writes @moonchild323232 @potato-vagina @monkey4lifer @kimsrie @so-dramatic1 @28361573 @onceinablueberrymoon @spanish-delulu-23

[hellsquills]

Dragon!Stan be upon ye

A short thing for @babyblankyerror 's Dragon!Stan AU. Please go check their art because it's infesting my brain /pos

⪻ ⪻ ⨳ ⪼ ⪼

"Hello?"

Ford's voice echoes through the cavern. He hears some small steps in return that turn louder and heavier as they approach, until he sees the familiar –and gigantic– face of his dragon friend. Despite the tightness in his heart, his face relaxes a little as he greets him.

"Good night, my friend. Sorry for disturbing your dreams."

It's way later than he usually visits the creature. These past weeks, Stanford left his house around 5pm and arrived at the cave at 6, trying his best to be punctual, even though time probably means nothing to this dragon. Having this little ritual amongst his otherwise chaotic schedule helps him. Today is already dark out, not pitch-black, but enough to make the path slightly dangerous.

The beast approaches slowly, looking somewhat sleepy, and lowers its head so Stanford can pet it. It is then, as they are eye-to-eye, that the dragon stops and tilts its head.

"What? What is it?"

The creature moves its head forward, brushing its snout against the man's cheek. Ford is taken aback, shocked by the delicate and understanding move.

"This? Those are just tears, don't worry about it."

The dragon huffs like an exasperated child, as if implying that it doesn't believe a word he's saying. Stanford sighs.

"I guess I can't fool you, huh?" Another huff. "I suppose that you're even smarter than I assumed. Which, rest assured, was already a lot."

The beast turns around and lies down in the middle of the cave, much closer to the entrance than it previously was before Ford arrived. The man walks to it, accepting its silent invitation. He lies down next to its chest, which is soft and warm with all the fur covering it. He nestles against it, making a spot for himself, just like many other times before.

"I... haven't had the best of days, I'm afraid."

The dragon's head is now resting on the floor beside him, its right eye looking straight through him. As uncomfortable as he is around people staring at him, this barely bothers him. The dragon's eyes are kind, attentive, so different from all the others he's used to have on him. Something in those colors fills him with a sense of safety that helps him breathe easier. It also helps with pulling out the words from his throat.

"I had... an argument with my Muse. Which wasn't his fault, really! It was all mine. I didn't... expect him to be this angry, though." The sentence ends just as quiet as it starts. "I simply mentioned that I needed some rest during the night, that I couldn't properly carry on with my research unless I got a full night's rest, but he didn't like it. He said I was being selfish." Ford's words are slow, as if working out a way to properly covey what he means. "I understand where he's coming from, I really do. He just wants to escape his dimension– the Nightmare Dimension, he calls it. Obviously the name is already enough of a hint, but above all... I know he wanted to escape before that. No one understood him back there. I know what that's like. To be in a place where you're not welcome, nor wanted, nor understood. I really do."

The dragon doesn't move, just blinks lazily. Ford continues.

"I just asked him for a full night without him entering my mindscape and using my body to work while I slept. He says any human should be able to withstand it, so maybe I'm just weaker than average, which I already knew, but regardless. I needed some time to rest not only my body, but my mind as well. He... didn't like it. We argued, I tried to explain it to him in a way he could understand, but he was so mad... I ended up relenting, but he said it was too late. Now he couldn't forgive me. He said that... if I really wanted him gone that much, then he'd leave. And he... he did."

Ford's voice faults as he utters those last words. Nonetheless, he keeps talking.

"I didn't mean to upset him, I swear I didn't. I just wanted some time to improve myself before I kept working on the portal, but... Moses, what have I done? What if he doesn't forgive me? What if he never comes back?" His shaky voice now warns new tears. "I guess that's what I deserve for failing to keep my promise. I told him I'd do anything in my power to help him, since he's spent his entire time in this dimension helping me discover the universe. And what do I give in return? Just utter weakness."

"I don't deserve him. I don't deserve the people that cared enough to get close to me. Not Bill, not Fiddleford, not..."

The sentence cuts early, leaving things unsaid.

"What am I going to do now? I have no one else, I'm alone. I..." A shaky breath, way too close to a sob for comfort. "I don't want to be alone anymore."

The dragon is quick to react, as if it had been waiting for him to finish. Carefully, it lifts its head and puts it on Ford's lap. Noticing the man's quick heartbeat, it moves it up, until it's resting on Ford's chest. They both lay there, Stanford feeling lightheaded from his sudden panic attack and the accumulated anxiety. However, the slight but grounding pressure against his chest is comfortable, calming, and it helps him breathe despite the weight directly on top of his lungs. His hands absentmindedly envelop the creature's head, hugging it lightly at first and then tighter when he's sure the other being is comfortable with the action. Through the warmth, he can feel another sensation: the dragon appears to be... purring? Not exactly, but something akin. It's definitely vibrating softly as it breathes slowly in what seems a calculated rhythm, although that would be impossible for the creature to understand.

A memory hits Stanford as he keeps his eyes closed: the same weight on top of his torso after a panic attack. The familiar sensation of those soft vibrations against his chest, much less like an animal and much more like quiet snoring. A slow, even breathing rhythm in contrast to his agitated one.

His brother, having yet again braved his fear of heights to lay on him when he had a paralyzing nightmare. A head full of curls as unruly as the boy they belonged to beneath his fingers, now replaced by hard scales.

"Lee..." Stanford cries, not even processing his own words. He repeats it once, twice, thrice, as the sobs grow too loud to continue. The creature above him shakes slightly before returning to its previous position.

Both beings stay still in silence, save by Ford repeating several variations of his brother's name, as well as the occasional "help", "I can't", and "I'm sorry". This last one is the quietest, as if the man had a split second of clarity and realized he did not want to say it any louder.

Eventually, exhausted by the rush of emotions, Stanford falls asleep. His cheeks are damp and his face is red, but he seems more peaceful as he evens his breathing, holding the dragon's head more delicately now.

Somewhere inside the creature's head, Stan is filled with a rage that burns hotter than the flames that sometimes escape his throat. As much as he'd like to shape-shift into his humanoid form, he can't. Not until whoever that Bill thing is is shattered into a million pieces by his own hand.

[crk-kr-to-en]

Watch and listen to Kr trailer for the best Smilk voice experience. >>

Let's start with an easy question.

What do you think lies are?

So what do you think is the truth?

A world where lies become truth and truth becomes lies.

It's going to be confusing and beautiful.

Because it's your future

you choose yourself

What are you hesitant for? Are you afraid?

It's like running around like that and then breaking down,

feel helplessly afraid and frustrated.

Isn't that much more fun than sitting around?

No matter how much you run away, you are in the palm of my hand.

This is my torso.

You are all in my stomach.

Scream, scream, sream, scream in despair!!!!!!

> Another vers: Scream and suffer and despair to the fullest!!!!!!

In the end you will thank me!

I believe that you thought and chose for yourself.

>Another vers: Believing you thought, chose, fought for yourself...

I'm talkig about every moment of yours!!!!!!

Accept the truth you love so much

You follow my lead

I'm living the same way I've always lived.

So you'll end up being me.

Come into my world.

This work will be my greatest masterpiece.

You can look forward to it.

☆

Hehe. I'm sneaking an analysis in here too wait a minute please.

Analysis/Comparison with the En trailer.

How Smilk asks the questions really sets up for the next lines he's gonna say which is "lies become truth and truth becomes lies," because he's causing more confusion to the audience by asking more questions.

Ugh. They really removed "What are you hesitant for?" in favor of "Why the long face?" because it juts makes it more sillier than how they intend for Kr Smilk to sound more scarier.

Smilk describing his body parts is 💯💯💯. It makes him feel in control that you are contained in his domain because you are basically surrounded by everything that's hinself.

The next lines after that is just him narrating how much he's gonna project unto PV.

"I've lived the same way I've always lived." Obvious lie. That's him coping with the fact that he wasn't the same back then when he was a Virtue, and pretending bad things never happened to him.

"Greatest masterpiece." is certainly more better than "Finest creation." because he's directing a play. He is bowing on a stage. How does the En make this shit so fucking stupid.

And I always love the Ep titles in Korean making sense, and not just "Spire of Deceit" or "Beacon of Truth." "Tower where shadows whisper" and "Path the light points to" are much more descriptive in of itself. Shadows is to lies, Light is to truth. Get lost in the darkness, or follow the path of the light in that darkness.

[causenessus]

happy birthday. | oikawa t.

oikawa x reader (female reader implied, one use of word girlfriend)

written in 2nd person

"i wanna see what makes my life and all the little things, i wanna see the mountains in view and the part when i meet you <3" from when i meet you by hollow bastion

word count: 2.5k words (headcannons & little fic <3)

happy birthday to the boy whose been with me for 4+ years <3 longer than anyone else <3 all sweet toothrotting fluff!! not edited bc i'm really tired goodnight :)

contrary to popular belief, tooru does not hype up his birthday

he never tells anyone it’s coming up and he doesn’t always do something big for his special day

he’s grown a *tiny* bit more mellow since high school, from when he did always make a big deal out of it

fans continue to send in heaps of mail but like the actual day itself, he doesn’t really pay any mind to it

there’s two reasons for this:

now that he has you, he doesn’t care much for others

as long as he gets to spend the day with you, even if no one else wished him a happy birthday or gave him something he’d be happy

second of all, he likes things to be genuine

with popularity has come a lot of shallowness from others, and he’s had to put up many of his own fronts

so he doesn’t want hundreds of people messaging him happy birthday, he only really cares to hear it from his close circle of friends

and it’s no problem if he doesn’t receive a message from one of those friends, he doesn’t expect people to know everything about him (a big change from high school, he’s very proud of it)

it’s just something that he realized after graduating high school. after his last year and the underwhelming end to his high school volleyball career after the spring high playoffs, he realized that life was not all about getting as far as you can on a straight path; sometimes you take turns that diverge you from the main path a little bit, but you still keep moving forward, and sometimes you end up finding something on that little path that makes it all worth it <3 (with age comes wisdom, right?? don’t tell him that, it makes him sound old 🤭)

after all, that’s how he found you <3

at the airport waiting to fly to argentina, he just couldn’t get enough of you, even after spending the entire flight at your side.

and you were just as interested in him

he realized after your first date that he was always meant to be here. he had a restless, adventurous soul that hadn’t been satisfied in japan, and it had been fate to meet you while he was taking the next big step in high life.

and don't mistake his acceptance of where he is in life for laziness, he’s just as hardworking as before if not more, but he’s realized he doesn’t need to aim for perfection

and once he became more lenient on himself, he ironically became the best version of himself he’d ever been

with your support and love easing him through this new mindset and the bad days, he began to win medal after medal <3

you’ve been with him for it all. he wholly believes you were made for him, and he loves you so much

so the only happy birthday he cares to hear is from you

and if other friends wish him a happy birthday? he will thank them. he will say that he appreciates them and he means it, but nothing is as important as you

if you insist that he can’t stay at home with you the whole day and that he should celebrate with some of his friends, he’ll eventually comply

he likes to keep things small. it feels nice to choose to have a quiet day on a date dedicated to him with a small group of people

tooru and you had started the day together in bed. a summer in brazil had seemed appealing to you both; it was the perfect time and place for him to play volleyball on the beach by the sea and you were there to relax and keep him company. he had reconciled with shoyo, who you both had planned to meet for lunch to celebrate the day.

you had decided on the place after receiving input from both of them. tooru had been complaining for days about wanting lemonade, and shoyo had suggested somewhere small, open, and simple as opposed to an overcrowded fancy restaurant. you could easily get that experience just by walking down the hot streets of brazil.

the three of you had spent the afternoon inside a conditioned cafe. it was a cozy place, with lots of greenery and wide window walls to let in lots of sunlight. you had sat there for several hours, people watching and chattering, tooru rubbing circles on your thigh the entire time as shoyo and him recounted their time and experiences in high school and how they had traveled around the world since then.

by around four in the afternoon or so, shoyo had perked up, suggesting that they play volleyball which had riled up tooru, a smirk on his face as he teased the ginger, “oh? you think you can beat me if we play one on one, shrimpy?”

shoyo had grinned back, sitting up proudly and flaunting his sun-bronzed skin. tooru had gotten a little dark, too, but not nearly to the extent that shoyo had.

“you guys have fun sweating and running around in the sun,” you sighed, placing your hand over the one tooru had on your leg, “i’m going to go home.”

when tooru whined you hushed him with a finger to his lip, “you enjoy your time with shoyo. today is about you. i'll still be here when you guys are done playing.”

he gave you a slight pout but you knew you had won him over. he was never one to fight much, especially because he knows you only want the best for him, and he'd be lying if he didn't say he was excited to play against the orange-haired boy sitting across from him.

you had waved the two boys off as you split up after exiting the cafe, stopping by a bakery before running home. little did tooru know, this had been your plan all along and everything was going smoothly so far. shoyo was in on it too and had been assigned the job of distracting tooru while you got home.

tooru woke up with messages from his family, but none of his three closest friends. you’d seen the disappointment in his eyes although he tried to hide it, saying that they’d probably just text him later due to the big time difference between japan and brazil.

but in reality, they hadn’t messaged him because they had just arrived in brazil. they'd come to help you with decorations and to celebrate tooru, of course. you met the three at your door, each of them holding a bag or box with decorations and gifts inside.

“thank you guys for agreeing to do this with me, he’s gonna love it,” you smiled, opening the door and holding it open for the four of them to walk in.

“of course he will, he's gonna let out the most dramatic gasp ever when he sees something set up for him,” hanamaki said with an amused smile, slipping off his shoes.

“he’s gonna love anything, he’s never satisfied,” iwaizumi added with a roll of his eyes. “and he’ll probably complain that none of us texted him.”

“times never change,” mattsun whistled, stepping through the door last. “remember when we surprised him in the gym with the entire team? he wasn’t even happy until makki finally arrvied with the cake like an hour later.” 

“you gave me the wrong address, that was not my fault! and he wasn’t happy until i got there because he was waiting for me, not the cake,” makki retorted and the rest of them had laughed.

you had met his old teammates from high school a few times before on visits back to japan, and tooru continued to keep in touch with them while he was overseas. most often, on late nights that neither of you could sleep, he would ramble to you about the national volleyball team iwaizumi had been putting together.

you had also exchanged phone numbers with the three boys after hitting it off with them, which had come in handy for planning this birthday. you all worked quickly to hang up decorations around the foyer and kitchen while the cake you'd bought earlier stayed neat and pretty in the chilled fridge.

all the while, shoyo kept you updated on tooru through texts. they were on the way back to the apartment now after shoyo had insisted on walking with him back home.

“he’s almost here,” you informed, unable to contain the excited smile on your face as you slipped your phone back into your pocket. “everyone ready? iwaizumi, will you get the lights, please?”

you all waited in the dark until you heard their footsteps approaching, the muffled sound of their voices through the wall of the apartment. you lit the candles on the birthday cake, the warm, flickering flames providing the tiniest bit of light in the dark room, illuminating the neatly iced cursive that read out "happy birthday tooru ♡ " 

you heard his noise of surprise as the door swung open into the pitch black apartment before you stood up from your hiding spot behind the counter, “happy birthday, my love.”

 “y/n? is this why you left early?” he asked, a smile full of love and adoration on his face, looking at the dimly lit cake on the table.

you hummed in response, wrapping your arms around his neck, giving him a kiss before you looked at shoyo and gave him a nod.

the lights came on overhead, making tooru squint at the sudden brightness before he nearly fell forward from a slap to his back.

“happy birthday, man,” mattsun grinned, stepping into his sight before he saw iwaizumi and hanamaki as well.

“you guys?—” he started, frozen in place in surprise at seeing the three boys in his apartment. “you guys came all the way here for me?”

“no," hanamaki replied sarcastically with a shrug before giving tooru a hug, "we just happened to be in the area, you know. i’m thinking of moving to brazil and decided to stop by.

tooru lets out an offended huff at the joke, crossing his arms as hanamaki steps back. “i can’t believe you guys are really here. and even more i can’t believe none of you guys texted me! i thought you all had forgotten, you could have at least sent a message so i wasn’t moping around all day.”

you and iwaizumi both roll your eyes at his dramatic complaint as matsukawa laughs, “aw, did you miss us?”

“and where’s the fun in that, dumbass? we thought a happy birthday in person would mean more to you, anyway,” iwaizumi speaks up, revealing the gift bag he’s been hiding from behind his back.

tooru gasps, practically melting at the sight as he steps closer to his best friend, “well, i guess you guys were right. this means the world to me, thank you so much for coming.” he takes the bag from iwaizumi before pulling him into a tight hug that lasts a few seconds, and says more between the two than hours of talking could. they haven’t seen each other in months, but they’re still just as close as they’ve always been.

“and,” tooru says, turning towards you with a smile, “thank you for setting this all up, y/n.”

the party lasts a few hours, with mellow music playing in the background as the six of you catch up over a few drinks before everyone decides it’s a good time to head out back to their homes, leaving the two of you to collapse into bed. 

tooru is hugging you close, face nestled into the top of your chest as you comb your fingers through his hair and draw circles onto his back.

“did you have a good birthday?” you ask him, eyes closed as you both find rest in each other’s arms.

his shoulders relax with a deep sigh as he gives you a small nod, his face rubbing against your shirt.

“anything i can do to make it even better next year?” you talk softly, twirling his brown curls around your finger.

he hums in thought for a second before he peeks up from your chest, innocent brown eyes staring into yours. “more time with you next time,” he answers, mouth still muffled from your shirt. 

“what?” you chuckle, rubbing the back of his head, “i was with you nearly the entire day, and we live together. you see me every day.”

“ ‘s not the same,” he whines, nuzzling his face into your body again, “and today didn't count, 'cause i didn’t get any alone time with you.”

you can’t help but smile at his sweet words, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of his head, “but today is your day, tooru. i want you to see as many friends as you can. because we all care about you, and sometimes you need to be reminded of that, mr. i-don’t-tell-anyone-when-my-birthday-is.”

his grip tightens on the back of your shirt, “yeah, but i don’t need any of that if i have you. you make me feel loved and cared for. your happy birthday is the only one i care about hearing.”

“is that so?’ you reply, returning to raking through his hair.

he gives you another nod before looking up, one of his hands trailing up your back and tangling into the back of your hair, pressing your head down to meet his lips. “mhm,” he hums against your mouth, “all i need is you.”

his lips trail down your jaw and then to your neck, making you laugh as he moves down your sternum before he returns to his original position, holding you close, his face buried into you. “well then, i’ll keep that in mind next year. i’ll make sure everyone texts you happy birthday whether or not they fly across the world and i promise we'll get some alone time, okay?”

he hums in acknowledgment of your words, wrapping his arms tighter around you. “what’re you thinking about?” you ask softly.

“nothing,” he mumbles, “i just feel really happy right now. i have the best girlfriend in the world that cares so much about me and plans out all my birthdays to make me feel loved. and we’re lying in bed right now and i’m just listening to her talk and i feel so comfortable. like next year we could just lie here all day and i’d be the happiest man ever.”

you laugh at his words and he likes the way he can feel it reverberate through your chest because of how close he is. “you’re sweet, tooru. i’ll keep talking until you fall asleep then, okay?”

“mmkay,” he responds happily, moving his legs around under the sheets to hook around yours, intertwining your bodies.

you press another kiss to his head, smiling the entire time, your heart full of love for the man, “and if it really means that much to you to hear it from me, i’ll say it again, too. happy birthday, tooru. and i love you so so much. you’re the best man i could ever have fallen in love with.”

[justsomerandomfanfic]

Flower Crowns - Dwalin X Female (Baggins) Reader

Title: Flower Crowns

Dwalin X Female Reader

Additional Characters: The Company, Ori, Kili, Fili, Thorin, Bofur, Balin, Oin (Mentioned), Bomber (Mentioned), Gandalf (Mentioned), Bilbo, Bard (Mentioned), Bard's kids (Mentioned), Alfrid (Mentioned), and the Mirkwood Elves (including Legolas and Tauriel (Mentioned))

Requested By: Anon!

WC: 5,252

Warnings: The Hobbit canon violence/weapons/death/etc, Reader is Bilbo's sister, misunderstandings, broody Dwalin, blood, injuries, nicknames, crying (brief), orcs, death, Ones, giant spiders, movie reference to a different movie (bonus points for those who get it), yelling, angst, and fluff

Trudging up the path with a woven basket of homemade muffins, you made your way up to Bilbo's home. You were a bit late. You were supposed to be at Bilbo's over an hour ago, but you had misjudged when you'd finish your muffins. And you knew how much Bilbo loved your muffins, so you were sure he wouldn't be too annoyed by your tardiness after eating a muffin or two.

Stopping at the door, you let out a small huff before knocking on the round door... Only to receive no answer. You frowned, furrowing your eyebrows before just entering. Pushing the door closed behind you, you heard voices from somewhere else in the Hobbit hole, confusing you even more. Had Bilbo invited others to dinner?

"Bilbo?" You called out, beginning to wander over towards the voices that quickly stopped after you spoke.

But before you could say anything more, Bilbo popped out into the hallway, rushing over to you. "Y/N, I believe we'll have to reschedule dinner." He spoke, rushed as he tried turning you around.

Your frown deepened as you twisted around in his hold, your eyes staring at the circular entrance of the dining room, "What do you mean? Who have you invited over?" Your curiosity was peaked now, and you wanted answers. 

"Nothing! No one! Lovely seeing you!" Bilbo exclaimed, pushing you backward towards the door, ready to get you out. But before he could, you ducked out of his arms and sped towards the dining room. 

You skidded to a halt at the entrance, eyes widening as your jaw dropped slightly. Bilbo sighed, rubbing his face with both of his hands before walking over and standing beside you. Eyes glued to the surprise visitors, you leaned over to Bilbo slightly; eyes unmoving from the surprise guests, "Bilbo... Why do you have thirteen Dwarves and a wizard in your dining room?"

~~~

And that was how you got roped into traveling alongside Bilbo, Gandalf, and the rest of the Company. Gandalf somehow convinced Thorin that having a second Hobbit would benefit the Company. And, unlike your brother, you wanted to go with them. You had read so many books about adventure and heard so many stories... You wanted to get out into the world and go on adventures that you had read in those books. 

During the first few days of the journey to The Lonely Mountain, you became friends with most, if not all, of the Company. Kili and FIli, for example - the two youngest members of the Company - took you under their wing. When Thorin allowed the Company to rest, they would teach you how to defend yourself. Most lessons usually turned into fooling around most of the time, despite Thorin's grumblings. Fili and Kili were fun people to be around. They never failed to make you laugh, which was welcomed when having to face orcs and goblins almost daily. 

Balin was like a father figure to you, always giving worldly and wise advice. Bomber often let you help in the making of breakfast and dinner. Ori, the sweetest of the bunch, would tell you stories, which you eagerly accepted to listen to every time. It gave you something to look forward to. And Oin, when free to do so, would teach you the basics of healing; showing you what herbs and plants worked best for certain ailments, which ones should be avoided, and so on.

You enjoyed each member of the Company's presence, but Thorin and Dwalin were the only two who hardly spoke a word to you. You weren't sure whether it was because they believed you didn't belong in the company, or because they were just not talkers. You hoped it was the latter.

But between the two, you really liked Dwalin. You liked his gruff demeanor - the brooding look on his face - and in addition, you really found him attractive. His muscular build, strong arm muscles, and dark hair; not to mention the tattoos on his arms - you wondered what their stories were. It surprised you, in the beginning, when you finally let the realization sink in. Even Bilbo, the only one that you had told about this attraction - you didn't fully trust Kili and Fili with the information - Bilbo was shocked, to say the least. 

~~~

Walking with Kili and Fili, you snatched up bundles of flowers as you went, weaving and braiding them together into a crown. You had already made one for yourself, and Fili and Kili were quite invested in your creative, colorful craft.

"Where did you learn to create such things?" Fili asked as he watched you bend down, snatching up another flower from the grassy ground.

You shrugged, tying off another flower, "In Hobbiton, of course, Fili, dear," You began, fixing some of the flowers before continuing, "In originality, my mother taught me." You finished, weaving another flower into the crown.

"How does one make such intricate designs?" Kili then asked, twisting the stem of a flower between his fingers in thought. 

You smiled back at him, "Well, it is quite simple, Kili, dear," You began, "You just have to braid the stems of the flowers together. Simple really." You answered, spying on Dwalin near the front of the line - just behind Thorin, you glanced over at the two Princes' beside you, "I'll be just a moment." You spoke before jogging over.

Your smile widened as you matched Dwalin's pace once by his side. Looking over and up at him, he didn't acknowledge your presence. It never bothered you, him ignoring you... You understood that Dwalin was not the type of person to just chit-chat, especially when there were bigger things to do and worry about. Lonely Mountain speaking. 

Finishing the flower crown in your hands, you offered it up to the Dwarf, a bright smile on your face. "I made this for you." You explained softly, the flower crown - made of yellow, white, and red wildflowers - sitting in your hands. 

Dwaling stopped, and so did the rest of the Company. You suddenly felt a wave of anxiety wash over you - all eyes on the two of you - watching as Dwalin slowly turned his head to look down at you, to the crown, and back. And for a moment, you thought that you saw something flash in his eyes, something that wasn’t brooding, determined, or angry. You swallowed, finding yourself unable to take your eyes off his, your ears and cheeks burning as he grumbled and huffed through his nose. You were confused, your hope and happiness dwindling - your hands lowering slowly - as Dwalin turned and continued walking. 

Fully dropping your hands to your sides, you watched him go; feeling completely rejected. You knew that it was stupid. It was just a flower crown... And yet, you still held onto it with all of your heart, clutching it tightly in your hand; unintentionally crushing the flowers beneath your fingers. What did you do wrong? You just wanted him to like you... Tears stung in your eyes, but you refused to cry in front of everyone. 

The rest of the Company soon passed you, some giving you sympathetic smiles, some patting you on your shoulder or back. Fili and Kili stopped beside you, Kili frowning softly, as Fili gave you a pat on the top of your head; careful not to disturb the flower crown on your head. 

"Don't worry, Miss Y/N," Fili spoke, "He'll come around."

Kili nodded, "I assure you, he will." He let out a small chuckle, but you knew he wasn’t laughing at you. That was just him.

You nodded, doubting, but saying nothing more as they turned and followed the group; Bilbo finally coming over. "I'm alright." You muttered, looking up at him. You knew that he was going to ask you if you were alright.

"I'm sorry, Y/N..."

You shook your head, "No, it's okay." You whispered softly, trying to give him the best smile you could give him to ease his worries, "I don't know why I am so caught up in this... I must understand that I'm not really everyone's cup of tea. Not everyone wants to be my friend. If he doesn't want to be friends with me... Then, that's alright." You explained softly. Bilbo stared at you for a long moment before you began walking, dropping the flower crown to the ground. 

~~~

The night was cold, the stars shining brightly down from the sky as you huddled close to Bilbo; next to the fire. It was hard to sleep, still not fully used to sleeping on the woodland ground, but you were getting there. And, soon, you found yourself drifting off to sleep.

Dwalin, on the other hand, having the first night watch, stared into the fire before him. It was quiet, aside from the fire crackling and the crickets chirping. Dwalin seemed to be lost inside his own mind, his eyebrows furrowed, and dark eyes narrowed in thought. Hearing a small grunt and feeling the log under him move slightly, Dwalin glanced over to see Balin sitting beside him. Balin hummed lowly, staring at the fire, rubbing the palms of his hands together.

"She didn't know, Dwalin." He spoke softly, not wanting to wake the others from their sleep, and only getting a deep mumble from his younger brother; at the mention of you, Dwalin's eyes flickered from the fire to your sleeping figure; curled up beside Bilbo. "She does not know of our courtship rituals. I should’ve told her more about our culture." Again, getting nothing from Dwalin, Balin continued, "She only wishes you to speak to her. You have hardly spoken a word to her since leaving Bilbo's home." He stared at his brother's side profile, "You can confide in me, brother."

Dwalin continued his silence, his eyes falling upon you once more. He was conflicted. Ever since he saw you enter the dining room of Bilbo's Hobbit hole, Dwalin had been unable to stop thinking about you. The way you moved and talked... Your features were sharp, yet delicate, your lips pouting, and your hair flowing. You were kind, bright, and soft; everything Dwalin wasn't. Dwalin was rough and tough. He had scars, he had seen death, and he had seen suffering. But, you... He had never seen someone as beautiful as you. You were different. Dwalin sighed deeply, looking away from you. He didn't know how to approach you; he couldn't bring himself to act on his feelings. 

But he knew that you were his One.

He knew the moment he saw you. 

Dwalin hated being vulnerable, and he hated admitting anything to anyone. So he sat, his jaw clenched tight, trying his hardest to fight his growing feelings for you. 

"She's my One." Dwalin found himself muttering, far too quiet for most to hear, but Balin heard.

A knowing smile graced his oldened features. "I presumed so." Balin spoke with a hum, "I can only... Advise that you should speak to her. She cares for you. I am sure that she would understand." Balin stated, before letting out a small sigh, standing, "Think about it, will you?" And with that, Balin found his sleep sack, rolling into it and falling asleep.

Dwalin stayed awake much longer into the night, contemplating his decision as he waited for Gloin to take over the night watch. His older brother's words echoed throughout his head, and with a deep gruff, he let his eyes stray from the fire; the light making his eyes burn slightly. His eyes flickered from around the woods that surrounded him, to the Company before finding the stars and the moon in the sky, and finally... Back to you.

You, in your sleep, muttered something softly, unnoticeable. He watched as you rolled to your side, shivering, your hand pulling the fur blanket closer to you. Dwalin's eyes lingered on you, his mouth slightly agape before he snapped his gaze away. Feeling a wave of frustration towards himself, Dwalin's gaze landed on his sleep role. 

~~~

The next morning, you woke up to a bright blue sky, filled with white, fluffy clouds. You let out a sigh, eyelids fluttering as you shifted slightly and let out a breath. You groaned lightly before freezing. Your fingers brushed against the fur blanket over you, feeling the coarseness of the material. It was warm. Very warm.

Your eyebrows furrowed; confused. You opened one eye, squinting at the bright sun that was peaking above the tree canopies. Slowly turning over onto your back, you sat up, looking down at the blanket... Or should you say... Blankets?

You stared down at the fur blanket, that was not your own, before flipping the fur up, spying your fur blanket underneath. This second fur blanket - which wasn't yours - was a deep brown color, with little bits of white. Who gave you this last night? Were you really that cold last night that one of the Dwarves had given you their blanket out of kindness or pity? You felt a sense of gratitude fill your chest. Looking down at the furry blanket, you couldn't help but let out a smile. 

Looking up, you let your eyes survey the small camp, hopping from Dwarf to Dwarf until they settled on one. Dwalin. A wave of warmth passed over you, watching as he packed his sleep role away and into his pack. As Dwalin stood to leave, he glanced over at you, meeting your gaze for a brief moment; before quickly darting his eyes away, going over to Thorin. 

You felt the corners of your lips twitch slightly, a frown threatening to form on your face as you looked at Dwalin's retreating back. Did he hate you? Did he find you annoying? All these questions ran through your head, but you only huffed, getting up from your sleep role. You were not going to let Dwalin's behavior towards you sour your mood. Today was a beautiful day, and you wanted to savor it. 

~~~

You couldn't see, and all you could feel was the feeling of falling. You felt as if you were wrapped in something. It was tight around you, almost suffocating. Anxiety washed over you, gripping your heart painfully as your lungs begged for air. But you could hardly breathe. You needed to breathe, but you were trapped. You clawed at the sticky white substance that surrounded you, trying to rip it and free yourself, but you were not strong enough. You felt like giving up, though you knew you couldn't, but as you clawed at the sticky film, you could finally hear what was going on outside of the cocoon. You could hear the Dwarves yelling, yelling about spiders. 

Before you could do anything else, someone from the outside ripped open your cocoon. You blinked rapidly at the slight change of light, finding yourself back in the creepy woods. A large hand reached out to you and you quickly grabbed it, the person behind the strong hand pulling you up with force. Stumbling slightly, you felt slightly dazed, the hand still in yours as you found yourself in a giant spider fight. 

As you stood amidst the chaotic scene of giant spiders attacking the Company, your heart raced with fear and adrenaline. Eyes unable to leave the giant spiders - tunnel-vision - you gripped the hand in yours; giving you slight reassurance. The air was filled with the sounds of battle - the clang of weapons, the hiss of the spiders, and the shouts of the Dwarves. You could feel the sticky strands of webbing brush against your skin as you dodged and weaved through the throng of arachnids. You felt gross and dirty; and for the first time since the start of this long journey to The Lonely Mountain, you missed your Hobbit home.

With each passing moment, the fight intensified, the odds seemingly stacked against you and the Company. Your wide eyes danced around you, trying to spot Bilbo, but you couldn't find him. You wanted to yell out, to shout, but as your mouth opened, no words came out. There was an odd buzzing noise in your ears, your heart was beating loudly in your chest; harsh against your ribcage. Only then, did you look at the person who held you so close to them. You thought it couldn't have been Kili or Fili, but you spotted the two Princes when you lifted your gaze. Looking down at the hand that held yours, you felt your racing heart freeze for just a moment; an auditable hitch escaped your throat, but you didn't dare utter a sound. 

Standing in front of you and holding your hand tightly in his own was none other than Dwalin. You knew it was him. You knew those tattoos. Trailing up his muscular arm, you were finally met with the side of his face. His expression was hardened as he held his weapon tightly in his other hand. Aside from the anxiety and nervousness that had overcome you, you were incredibly impressed. Dwalin, with one hand, fought off giant spiders, whilst also keeping you perfectly safe. 

At the sound of something coming from up in the trees, you looked up, watching as no more than two dozen elves jumped to the ground, taking out the last of the large, monstrous spiders from around you. One of the Elves spoke to another, you noted her red hair as they spoke in Elvish. You wished that you could understand them. Your awe of them quickly diminished when they drew their weapons, arrows drawn and at the ready; circling around you and the Company. Soon, they demanded your weapons, and before you knew it, all the Dwarves were weaponless. 

"What about her?" One Elven guard asked in a demanding tone. Your eyes lifted up, finding the guard staring down at you. "Hand whatever you have over instantly." He demanded, holding out his hand, only for Dwalin's hand in yours to tighten slightly, gently pushing you behind him.

"She bears no weapons, Elf." He spoke in his deep, gruff, disgruntled voice. The Elf stared down at Dwalin for a moment before staring right back down at you, with a sniff and a small 'humph' he turned away. 

The blonde Elf, the one that you believed to be in charge of the whole group, yelled out something in Elvish, and before you knew it, you and your Dwarven friends were being pushed along, being led to hopefully, not your doom. Passing Thorin, you looked at him with pleading eyes, "Thorin, where's Bilbo?" Only for your answer to be unanswered. 

Your hand never left Dwalin's, your free, unoccupied hand found his arm; the skin upon skin contact grounded you, allowing you to calm yourself ever so slightly. You finally took a chance to look around, finding the forest opening, revealing a stone bridge. Pillars, beautifully carved, gave way to the entrance of Mirkwood, the Elven Kingdom. You wished you had the time to admire the architecture of the kingdom, but, sadly, you did not. Before you knew it you were being tossed into a cell.  

A hand fell upon your shoulder, pulling you to the side, your hands falling from Dwalin's. "Dwalin!" You called out, trying to reach for him, but you were soon shoved into a cell. Stumbling over your feet, you braced yourself on the rock interior of the cell. Hearing the heavy cell door close behind you, you snapped your head up; feeling exhausted, mentally and physically, but you pushed yourself forward. Your hands curled around the bars, trying to look at the cells beside yours. The sound of the now-captured Dwarves - yelling and complaining. 

"Miss Y/N!" Fili yelled out, only a few cells away from yours, "Are you alright!?"

"I'm fine!" You called back, "Is everyone else alright?"

Most, if not all, of the Dwarves, replied with various 'ayes’. You sighed in relief, closing your eyes; the chill of the cell door refreshing on your forehead. 

Sitting on the floor - you felt the hours pass you by slowly - you pressed the back of your head against the wall; tired. "I wager the sun is on the rise. Must be nearly dawn." Bofur called out, his voice echoing throughout. Your eyes fluttered open, a yawn leaving your parched mouth. 

"We're never going to reach the mountain, are we?" Ori asked, sounding resigned, making you sigh.

"Don't fret, Ori, dearest." You spoke up, sounding a bit resigned yourself, but you were determined to keep everyone's spirits high. "We'll make it." You continued, looking out of your cell door, "We will." With that said, you stood up from the ground, wincing as pain shot through your legs. Looking down, you noticed a rip in your trousers that you replaced your usual dress with. Pushing the ripped fabric to the side, you then noticed a red substance that trailed down your leg; coming from a small scratch on your calf. "Well," You spoke up, clearing your throat. "I may have been slightly injured."

Simultaneously, the Dwarves began to talk. Their voices became louder, some with more worry and concern. "Miss Y/N, you are injured!?" You heard Fili call from his cell.

"Yes, tis but a scratch." You explained, hoping the Dwarves would stop fussing over you. You weren't a damsel in distress. You were strong, even with a bloody scratch. "But worry not, dearest Dwarves, it's nothing I can't handle."

"You won't have to handle it for long." You heard, eyes widening - mimicking your bright smile - as Bilbo appeared at your cell door, holding the keys. 

~~~

When you joined the Company on their journey, you did not expect that you'd trick goblins, climb bit trees, fly on eagles, fight giant spiders, and barrel ride down a raging river. This was certainly an adventure that you'd go through again, minus the goblins and giant spiders; you'd love to fly with the eagles again.

Somehow, you survived, floating down the raging river, your clothes all sopping wet, and river water dripping from your hair. As all of your barrels fell down a waterfall, you couldn't help but let out a small laugh. Behind you, you could hear the laughter of some of the dwarves. For a moment, you forgot about your injuries; and the exhaustion that was seeping into every fiber of your body. Your hands tightened your grip on the railing of the barrel, praying for it to not capsize or tip over, your fingers growing numb with cold. You tried desperately to ignore what was going on around you. Smelling the fresh air, and hearing the birds chirping above you, almost made you forget everything else.

But at the sound of a horn, you were quickly snapped out of your head, watching as the suited Elves began to shut the gate; the only way to escape. All joy, and a sense of freedom, flew right out of the window. You all collided with each other at the closed gate, you huffed, glaring up at the Elven guards before your eyes caught sight of an arrow flying through the air, and into one of the guards. 

"Orcs!" You yelled out, gesturing up at the guards, as the one that was shot fell into the water below; almost hitting you. "Why does it always have to be orcs?"

You dodged the best you could when dead elves and dead orcs fell into the water, along with dodging arrows, and over-confidant orcs that tried to swing at your head. 

You were about to call for Bilbo, but when you turned your head, you watched as your brother stabbed a sword into an orc, defending one of the dwarves. 

"Miss Y/N!" Ori cried out, making you look over to him, only for him to point above you. 

You looked up, your eyes widening at an orc - dead - began falling towards you. Unable to move, almost frozen in fear, you squeezed your eyes shut and shielded yourself with your arms, only for your barrel to be pushed back and out of the way. You opened your eyes, blinking them rapidly as the river water splashed in your face. Looking over, you just saw a glimpse of Dwalin turning back around. Despite the obvious danger that you were all in, you wondered what you could do for Dwalin since he had saved your life twice now. 

Turning your eyes to the side, you watched as Kili ran up the side of the stone top of the gate, you covered your mouth as an arrow flew through the air and hit him in the leg. Fili cried out of this younger brother, as Kili then opened the gate, and fell into an empty barrel. 

Falling down, yet another waterfall, smaller than the last, you pushed your wet hair from your face, only to grip the barrel with as much force as you could; the raging, white-foaming waters continued. Looking to your side slightly, you watched as Bilbo held onto a barrel, holding onto the sideway barrel, his own death-like grip. You felt a small bit of relief, seeing him safe. You, and the Company, continued down the river, and the longer you tried not to tip over and drown, the more you wished that you weren't in the freezing waters. 

Finally, the raging stopped, and the river was calm. Leaning over slightly in the barrel, you brushed your hands in the freezing water, moving your barrel forward slowly, but carefully. 

"Make for the shore!" Thorin yelled out, receiving some 'ayes' in return.

Pushing your barrel forward, you pressed your cheek against the rim of the barrel, your eyes drooping slightly as you continued to push yourself toward the shore. Your barrel soon hit the rocks, and you used the rest of your strength to get out of it, climbing up onto the rocks; completely soaked. You trudged up the rocks, wrapping your arms around yourself as you mentally counted those around you, counting fourteen. Mentally, you could rest.

Feeling a hand on your upper arm, you looked to the side, seeing your brother Bilbo. Just his presence made you give him a small smile, seeing the worry in his eyes. "I'm alright." You spoke to him, wanting to reassure him, "I'm just cold."

At the surprise of meeting Bard, the human, you sort of let your brain shut off. You felt your feet move as you followed the Dwarves to Bard's boat. You felt yourself sitting down in the corner next to Bilbo, and hiding from Alfrid, but you were far from the present. You were so tired, mentally and physically, that you let your mind quiet, letting yourself only fade back into the world you knew once you felt the warm fire at your feet.

"Wee lass hasn't spoken since the Elves." You heard a hushed voice, it was Bofur. 

You pressed your legs closer to yourself, staring into the flames. The clothing you were given, having been one of Bard's daughters, was warm; the fabric soft - your fingers toyed with the soft material. 

"Is she alright?" Ori asked worriedly, only for Bilbo to nod, crossing his arms. 

"She's alright. She had told me so." Thorin only gave you a short glance before turning back to Bard. 

Dwalin, with his arms crossed, turned to look at you, staring at your side profile. Glancing over at the table that Bilbo sat at, Dwalin said nothing, walking over to the table and grabbing a plate. Bilbo, in turn, watched as Dwalin filled the plate with a few potatoes, two small tomatoes, and a small slice of bread. 

Your eyes picked up the sound of heavy footfalls coming towards you, and at the sight of a plate coming into your field of vision, you moved your head to look up. As you looked at Dwalin, his face stoic as usual, you couldn't help but smile. Taking the plate, your fingers briefly brushed against his.

"Thank you, Dwalin." You spoke softly, but before he could slink away, you grabbed his hand, stopping him. For a moment, you thought back to when he held your hand so tightly - protectively - in the Mirkwood forests. "Thank you for saving me. Twice." You smiled at him softly, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. "And I apologize if I had anything to upset you, or make you uncomfortable." He glanced over at you, then down at your hand which was wrapped around his. He didn't remove his hand from yours, giving you the same squeeze that you had received from him earlier today. 

Dwalin stared at your hand in his, his jaw clenching before he looked back to you, his eyes softening. "You did not, dorzada." He spoke gruffly, “Eat.” He finished before leaving your side, your hand dropping from his. 

You looked down at your plate of food, your stomach grumbling and spinning, as your mind wandered. Picking up the slice of bread, you bit down on it, thinking about the word that Dwalin called you. You wondered what it meant. 

~~~

"Oin, stay with Kili." Thorin commanded as the rest of the Dwarves began to gather their things. Without being told, Fili stayed by his brother's side. 

"I want to come too." You spoke, grabbing a random weapon from the wooden table.

Dwalin quickly turned, staring down at you, "It will be too dangerous for you, lass."

You huffed, lightly glaring up at the Dwarf, "I have fought trolls, orcs, what have you." You pointed out, causing him to raise an eyebrow. "I want to fight."

"This is against us Dwarves and the dragon." He grumbled, his hand taking a hold of the weapon in yours. "You'll die before the beast does."

"I'm already dying anyway," You shrugged, looking back down at your weapon, "From the moment we're born, we're dying. So, what is the point? I want to help."

Dwalin breathed out of his nose as he took hold of your other hand, "No, no, lass, you are staying here, with Kili, while the rest of us fight."

"Are you telling me, or are you commanding me, Dwalin?" You asked, voice becoming soft as his eyes bored into your own. "Do as you wish then," You sighed when receiving no answer, letting go of his hands, "But please, do not die." 

Dwalin humphed, the corners of his lips just twisting up into a small grin, and for a moment, you were stunned. Dwalin was smiling. "Don't worry," He spoke. "I won't." His gaze softened, as he stepped back from you, "Be safe, lass." With that, he started to walk away, only for you to grab his arm and stop him. You didn't say anything else, merely pulling him close to you.

You felt him tense in your abrupt embrace before his one hand, not holding his weapon, circled you. But, it all ended too soon, as he pulled back from you, nodding to you before turning his attention to the group, as they set off to The Lonely Mountain. 

Your shoulders sagged when the door closed, a small pout upon your lips, "Do not fret, Miss Y/N," Fili spoke from beside his brother as you turned to look over at the four Dwarves - Kili, Fili, Bofur, and Oin. "They will return."

You let out a sigh, looking out at the window. A fuzzy feeling rose within your chest, and you couldn't help but smile to yourself. After watching them disappear into the distance, the sun went to sleep, "I know."

---

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Messages from the GazettE to the fans (Google translations)

〈 RUKI 〉

At the end, he said, "I want the GazettE to be forever." I think what he meant by "forever" was that he hoped that the amazing scenes he saw from the stage in 2023 would continue forever.

The scenes he saw with his fans, the happy faces of his fans, and the scenes where we all sang together were treasures that could not be replaced by anything else, and I think he hoped that moment would continue forever.

I remember him saying that he wanted to perform live soon.

Even now that he's grown up, he was a kind and passionate man who can honestly say, "Even if something bad happens, it's the most fun when we get together like this and laugh with the band members."

I loved that honesty.

This year was no different, and every year on our birthdays we would jokingly tell each other to take care of our health.

The band will never be a four-man band.

No matter what anyone says.

Because you're the only bassist we have.

Because I believe that my soul is always beside me to the right.

I'm sure everyone can feel it, even if they can't see it.

The proof that Reita has built up in the GazettE so far will not disappear and will definitely live on.

I believe that, so I will continue to sing beside him so that his soul can be right beside me.

I will not become the GazettE that Reita hates.

I don't want to make him sad.

Although all humans live in a finite life, I believe that souls never disappear.

Reita's soul, the members, myself, and the fans.

I want to continue to perform live shows that make all the people who loved me want to come back to the stage forever, even after they have become souls.

So it is only with each and every one of our fans that we can create the scenery that we hoped he would be eternal.

That's why I want him to stay by my side and be there, unchanged from now on.

He should look at me and smile, and think, "He was the best guy!", rather than looking at me with a sad face.

We are more determined than ever to protect this band.

We will make Reita's wish for eternity come true.

So, Reita, rest assured that you can come to every live show from heaven.

Your seat will always be there.

You're going to be super busy from now on.

I'll contact you again when the schedule is decided.

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

<Uruha>

To all the fans who have supported REITA up until now.

I think he was a huge support for everyone, and for me.

I myself have not been able to accept and realize the fact that he is no longer here and that we can no longer stand on stage together.

There may be many things that I will come to understand little by little from now on.

However, if I continue to be drowning in sadness, I will not be able to make his wish for eternity come true, and I strongly feel that now is the time for me to have the strength to look forward and move forward.

I also think that the path we walked together until now was irreplaceable for him, and I think it will continue to live in the hearts of everyone and myself.

He gave us so much, and we walked together for so long, and he is still and will always be our best friend.

Please treasure all the words, memories, and love he left behind in your heart.

REITA will continue to exist and live in everyone's hearts.

We would like to express our sincere gratitude to everyone who has supported and cheered on the GazettE REITA.

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

〈 Aoi 〉

For a long time, the members and a small staff have been working on various projects, saying "this and that," but writing this letter was the last thing I wanted to do.

There have been moments when I felt like giving up on my dreams.

Every time, we talked about it again and again, sometimes pushing each other, and pulling the members' arms so that they wouldn't give up.

Because we were such a band, the GazettE has been able to keep moving forward without stopping.

REITA, you're not the one who wishes for eternity, you're the one who connects eternity.

I can't say something clever like "I'll take care of you."

I wanted to make more music with you, and see more scenery together.

Every scenery is wonderful because we see it with the five of us, surrounded by our fans.

I don't know why, but it's so painful that I can't make it happen even though I have so many things I want to say.

When I get there, I'm going to start with a big lecture. I know it's lonely because we're gone so suddenly, but please take a rest until then.

I have a few more things to do here.

Thank you for walking this long road with me. Rest in peace.

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

〈 Kai 〉

For me, REITA is an immeasurably big presence, saved by his many words and sounds, the mood maker for the band, and all I remember are really fun things, and above all, the sight of him shining on stage.

He is the best partner and the only one in the rhythm section.

That has never changed, and will never change in the future.

I want to continue carrying his feelings and continue with the GazettE with even greater resolve.

Finally, to all the fans and people involved who have supported us for the past 22 years.

Thank you very much.

And from now on, our feelings will remain the same and we would like to continue running as a group of five, so please continue to support us.

REITA

Thank you for all your hard work.

With the same feelings, we will continue to protect the GazettE together with our many friends... I promise.

There are many friends out there who don't want your 22 years to go to waste, and they are waiting for you.

You must come to our shows too!

Let's have some good sake again.

[stillness-in-green]

What do you think of shouto's arc? As a person who uh. used to be pretty similar to his "earlyroki" incarnation for lots of similar reasons I find it really reassuring that he gets to be a happy person who is generally content(somewhat negated by the treatment of Endeavor in the story admittedly lol)

Hey, anon; I'm touched that you'd come to me, a dedicated endgame hater with a question like this. I appreciate the interest and/or faith! This reply is going to talk a lot about the family in general and the broader themes of the story, as well as Endeavor and Dabi and their own arcs, but I've tried to keep tethering it back to Shouto throughout and at the end.

Shouto isn’t a character I devote a ton of thought to—I’m so-so on most of the Heroes at the best of times, and Dabi is an easy pick for my least favorite of the core League.  For a long while, Endeavor actually was my favorite of the Todorokis because I found him the most interesting—that went out the window in the last war, alas, as it became clear that the narrative had no intention of meaningfully grappling with his repeated failures to work with and prioritize his family despite his repeated promises to do so.

As to Shouto, though, I suppose I have three major thoughts: that he does okay for himself, that he got a bit shafted all the same by the decision not to kill Endeavor, and that I wish I felt more confident that his arc had any impact at all on his opinions about the Hero System.

(Hit the jump.)

Taking the last of those first, as it’s the point that involves Shouto himself the least, the systemic problems of the setting were always my primary interest with regard to the conflict between Heroes and Villains.  Because I was invested in relatively few of the Heroes, and also because the story was pretty assiduous about not letting the League kill off any characters the reader could reasonably be expected to give a shit about anyway, I never bought into stuff like Deku getting righteously fired up about the people Shigaraki had hurt.  For the most part, I cared about the Hero/Villain interpersonal dynamics only insomuch as they served as a path for the Heroes to recognize the scope of the real issues they needed to be addressing, and the Villains as—while dangerous—ultimately victims of those issues.

Unfortunately for me, the Todoroki plotline is ultimately treated by the overarching narrative as being, by and large, self-contained, unconnected and unreflective of the broader society in which it plays out.  Thus, while Uraraka connects Toga’s tragedy to the lack of acceptance of her quirk and devotes herself to finding some way to correct for that problem going forward, Shouto and Enji don’t make that same connection between Dabi’s tragedy and the problems in Hero Society that led to it.  Touya is, to be sure, primarily a victim of Enji’s choices, with Dabi being the ultimate result, but while no one forced Enji to make the choices he made, they were not made in a vacuum.

By my count, there are three ways in which the structure of Hero Society failed Todoroki Touya and his siblings, only one of which impacted them directly.  Firstly, Hero Society demonstrates a studied lack of concern for the mental health of orphaned children, which meant that young Enji was never going to get appropriate amounts of grief counselling, meaning there was nothing to inhibit his spiraling obsession with strength.[1]  Secondly, that obsession was given a perfect frame to build on in the form of the Hero ranking system.  And thirdly, we have no evidence that the Todoroki family was so much as mildly probed by law enforcement or regulatory bureaus about the string of accidents and tragedies facing it.[2]

1: From the Shimura Kotarou of forty goddamn years ago to the Izumi Kouta of the present, there is zero reason to believe that Enji would ever have gotten professional psychological help following his father’s death.

2: One might also add a fourth consideration, that being the whole-ass Himura situation that led to Rei feeling her abusive marriage was as inescapable as it was.  Perhaps if she felt less trapped by her family’s need—itself entirely a result of quirk-based bigotry, remember, so that’s a fifth societal consideration!—then maybe she would have been more willing to try taking the kids and leaving, or seeking help from authorities.  My focus here, however, is more on things that could have directly circumvented Endeavor's abuse, so I’ll leave the other factors here.

But BNHA doesn’t probe any of this, either, nor does Shouto.  The only people other than Endeavor who are remitted any scraps of responsibility about Dabi’s entire existence are All For One (for saving Touya’s life!) and Rei, Fuyumi and Natsuo, collectively given a few moments in which they regret not doing more. Otherwise, Endeavor is allowed whole and unadulterated blame for the situation.  It’s not something Shouto blames on any outside parties or circumstances, and so, once it’s resolved, he makes no efforts to try to address any of the very obvious contributing factors.

While it’s very much to Shouto's credit that he put so much proactive effort and thought into stopping “his” Villain without causing further harm—by far the most forethought of any of the students with Villain foils!—I’m not as positive about how he just lets everyone but his rotten father off the hook.  It’s a problem I think is less about Shouto as a person and more about the meta-narrative’s sudden third-act unwillingness to engage in systemic critique, but a problem it remains, given that it’s the systemic critique that I really wanted.

Moving on, I also think Shouto’s arc is severely hindered by Horikoshi changing his mind about not killing off Endeavor.  I’m not one of those people who thought Endeavor had to die to make up for his crimes, or who desperately wanted him dead because he’s an abuser and All Abusers Should Die, Actually.  Solely looking at it from the perspective of Endeavor’s arc, I think he should have lived!  It’s much more interesting for him to live and have to grapple with the consequences of his actions!

…But that would require that he actually have to grapple with said consequences.  Which he doesn’t.  And if he was not going to, and the story was not going to address him not going to, then yeah, absolutely, he should have died.  What’s the point of him surviving if he’s going to face no story-impacting consequences?  Feeling sad and bad about it, and getting yelled at once or twice by nameless bit characters, do not count as story-impacting consequences, I’m afraid.

More to the point, though, that’s Endeavor’s arc.  Endeavor’s arc, however, badly needed to take a backseat to Shouto’s arc, and probably Dabi’s, too!  While I think Endeavor could have survived without his arc torpedoing the arcs of his sons, that’s definitely not the story we got.  And I think this is in large part because Horikoshi didn’t change the story enough to account for Endeavor’s survival.

The echoes of that original story are all over the third act.  Consider:

Endeavor does nothing of consequence in the Edgy Deku arc.  His press conference doesn’t prevent societal breakdown; he limply defers to Deku in ways that let him remain active while ensuring those actions have no impact on the plot; he makes no major contributions to Hawks and Jeanist’s talks about the Villains; he’s not involved with the plans for the second war; and finally, we learn nothing from the hospital flashbacks that we couldn’t have gotten from any of the other family members, instead.      

We get early hints about too many quirks causing mental breakdowns, and this foreshadowing is fulfilled in Spinner’s corroded perceptions at the hospital—but miraculously, Lady Nagant has no problem at all with having an extra quirk.  Sure, she’s only got the one extra, and maybe it doesn’t happen every time, but…  Isn’t it a little odd that she comes out of nowhere, with very minimal foreshadowing, an elaborate HPSC backstory that Hawks shares, and the combination of quirks she’s packing is one that precisely replicates Hawks’s “long-distance flying attacker” shtick?  It’s pitifully easy to imagine a scenario in which Endeavor’s death in the first war leads to Hawks going rogue.  Also, while I don’t know exactly what circumstances would lead to him and Deku fighting, I do think Deku’s platitudinous speech about light and dark and reaching out to people feels far more tailored to a Hawks who only just went rogue than it does a woman betrayed by her own bosses who hates shallow platitudes, especially coming right on the heels of Deku rescuing Overhaul in a way that strongly echoes Hawks’s reflexive rescue of Twice but carries no inherent meaning for Lady Nagant.[3]       3: See here for the whole rant about this, but the short version is that it’s goddamn absurd that Lady Nagant hates platitudes and shoots at Overhaul on the assumption that Deku will have to save him, only for her heart to be changed by Deku’s platitudes and saving of Overhaul.      

Speaking of Hawks, the whole matter of Twice’s death goes less than nowhere, which makes one wonder what was the point of including it as an ethical dilemma at all? The public didn’t care, Hawks faced no consequences for it, and he was never forced to change his stance or grapple with his decision in any way, to the point that when he’s faced with the same situation later, he makes the exact same judgement, and this is something the narrative doesn’t even seem to notice, much less address.  Toga’s very personal feelings of hatred for Hawks get relegated to a single shallow knife slash from a clone that doesn’t even manage to leave a goddamn scar.  And all this lack of consequence leaves Hawks free to be reduced to nothing but an Endeavor Supporter in the final arc, possibly because whatever his arc could have been was incompatible with Endeavor’s survival, leaving Hawks with no final arc of his own but also no established place in anyone else’s.      

Endeavor’s dream about the family eating dinner around the table but him not being there, on top of Shouto’s stated intention to eat soba with his brother—seems like foreshadowing for an ending in which the family eats dinner around a table, doesn’t it!  But because Endeavor lives, Natsuo cuts contact in a way he’d have had no reason to do if Endeavor had died, and so there can be no family dinner, and Shouto’s soba thing has to be relegated to a frankly pretty thin line of dialogue about mutual favorite foods rather than an actual shared meal.      

The whole thing about buying/building a new house for Rei and the kids to live in so they can be away from the bad memories in Endeavor’s house.  Does that happen?  It kinda seems like that doesn’t happen, given that Rei seems perfectly happy to be pushing Enji around in a wheelchair at the end!      

The strange replay tape finale version of Shoto beating Dabi, where he does the exact same move twice, just once alone and once in the presence of family.  Almost like Horikoshi only came up with the one idea?      

The fact that the family promises to deal with Touya together but then Endeavor not only spends a chunk of time running from Dabi when he does arrive, but even when he does finally try to talk, he can’t because Dabi’s brain is so overboiled that he’s incapable of rational conversation—even though he was having rational conversation with Shouto some five minutes prior!  And then it’s Shouto and the family’s ice that actually save Dabi from those consuming flames, with Endeavor contributing nothing to that finale—huh, almost like the family saving Touya wasn’t written to include Enji to begin with!      

The Geten as a Himura reveal feels super vestigial.  I like it, mind you!  I like it a lot!  And I don’t know exactly how it would have factored into a version of the endgame in which Endeavor died, save that the Dabi-Geten combo really feels like The Final Boss Scenario That Wasn’t for Shouto—one guy with fire hotter than his who hates their father and Shouto personally, and one guy who can take control of any ice around him and stop it from melting and who hates the other side of Shouto’s family![4]  But instead Geten just winds up in prison and the Himura reveal does nothing but handwave Dabi having latent ice powers, which didn’t need a Himura reveal to justify it since we already knew Dabi had a physical compatibility with ice!  And even, via Shouto himself, that the mixing of ice and fire could produce a quirk with elements of both!  Geten being a Himura simply feels like a relic of a story in which Geten had more of a role to play, and while that may be my bias because I feel like the entire MLA was set up for a bigger role than they wound up having, it’s still easy to wonder if part of the whole, “We’ll deal with Touya as a family,” promise would have involved facing the other side of the family’s damage as well. 4: While also espousing a writ large version of Endeavor’s own Strength Is All That Matters mentality and still being a victim of eugenicist machinations masterminded by Shouto’s relatives!  Truly it is a mystery to me how Geten could just get defeated by Cementoss when he’s such a perfect distillation of so many of the issues swirling in and behind Shouto’s family situation. He even connects to a potential systemic critique in his ties to the MLA, who are practically nothing but systemic critiques of Hero Society.

And so on and so forth.

Shouto is a major character: by far one of the most prominent student characters, Deku’s first real victory in terms of changing someone’s heart, a foil for one of the central Villains, and with a profound insight into the kinds of damage the current system encourages and then willfully ignores.  He desperately needed an arc that centered him and his perspective.  But that arc also has to contend with Dabi, and Dabi as-written simply cannot convincingly prioritize Shouto when Endeavor is still alive.

There are certainly signs that Dabi did care for his other family members at one point in time, most prominently that he thinks remorsefully about how he acted towards them when he wakes up after Sekoto Peak, and emphasizes that he has to apologize to them.  But when the story so prioritizes Dabi’s obsession with Endeavor, to the point that he’s gleefully endangering the rest of the family’s lives and peace by sending dangerous Villains to their door, airing videos outing Endeavor as a domestic abuser, and talking about Shouto like he wants to leave him disemboweled on the Endeavor Agency’s front stoop, then that obsession has to be dealt with in some way before I’m remotely capable of believing that anyone other than Endeavor can get through to him.

So, Endeavor could have died, which would have neatly deprived Dabi of that driving focus that kept him going—what does he do without it?  That’s a question Shouto could have given him an answer for.

Endeavor could have fallen into a coma, leaving genre savvy readers confident he’d eventually pull through but the characters themselves in a state of muddled emotions about when or if he’d ever regain consciousness—that’s a half-measure, but I like it better than the half-measure we got.[5]

5: And heck, maybe we could have gotten Dabi trying to invade Central Hospital alongside Spinner and the heteromorph army, since that plot included a number of small nods to the Todoroki plot anyway via Spinner reflecting on Dabi’s unstoppable will and Shouji on Shouto’s strength of character.  Also, you know, more chances to poke at Dabi and Shouto’s tendency towards calling heteromorphs derisive animal names.  Probably not a scenario that does the heteromorph mob scene any favors, I’ll grant, but it would be hard to make it worse.

Heck, I could even see a version of the story where the narrative was simply more cynical about Endeavor’s ability to prioritize his professed atonement.  All his actions in the story as we have it show him continuing to prioritize his Hero duties despite his repeated claims that he intends to prioritize his family.  If the story actually recognized that contradiction, it could build Dabi up to a point of screaming frustration that I could, hypothetically, see Shouto breaking through.  Endeavor could still be trying, still be sincere, but if his ego or a rational decision to prioritize the lives of strangers over those of his family mean he cannot ever be counted upon to truly put his family first, then maybe that would be something the rest of the family could tackle.  Alternatively, the whole story could have had a mindset more like Natsuo’s, with the goal being to cut Endeavor off because his desire to atone, regardless of its sincerity, does not entitle him to a presence in the lives of those he hurt.  But none of is an option when the story itself is cheering for Endeavor the way BNHA does.

For Shouto’s arc to be at its best, something needed to give.  Dabi needed to be more open to the rest of the family from the start, or Endeavor’s desire for atonement needed to be complicated or stymied in some way that made it not feasibly attainable, be it his narcissism, his health, or the whole story’s outlook on abusers trying to atone and whose perspective to center in a story involving such abuse.  But with the Dabi we have and the Endeavor the story insists on, Shouto’s arc itself is what wound up giving.  It certainly has its moments, but I can’t imagine a world in which it wouldn’t have been far, far better served by Endeavor kicking the bucket as originally planned, allowing the brothers to confront each other, properly and fully, with Shouto the primary driver in saving Touya rather than having to constantly fight for screentime in his own finale.

That all said, I can definitely see the perspective that Shouto is just one kid from a shitty family situation and he does not deserve being called upon to solve the problems of the whole world and wrangle his family damage for the rest of time.  It’s not what I would have prioritized, in that I have pretty steep meta-narrative demands for a class of kids that we’re being told collectively became the greatest heroes, but from a more grounded, realistic, in-story, individual frame of mind, I think it’s wonderful that Shouto is exploring who he is as a person separate from his family issues and the career he semi-chose when he was in pre-K.

No sarcasm here; I do actually quite like his last scene.  I have some quibbles with the framing—I don't like that the rankings still exist, and I think he should just be allowed to go on sabbatical rather than trying to fit time for self-improvement/self-exploration classes in between Hero work, if we’re really meant to believe that the Villain incident rate is declining.  But just in concept, taking pottery classes and cooking classes and figuring himself out? Good for him!  That’s wonderful!  He did his best and he deserves every inch of it.

That is all to say, what I want from a fictional character in a relatively moralistic narrative is not what I would want from a real person in a situation anything like Shouto's, and while I don't love what we got in the former regard, I’m glad that people who empathize/identify with him can take comfort in the ending he did get. You, anon, and any others to whom that applies, deserve all that and more.

Thanks for the ask!

[jennysparksandtheauthority]

The fallacy of realism in Life is Strange Double Exposure. Another more or less analytic rant :)

Okay. I lied. This is the real LAST commentary about Deck Nine's fiasco. Or maybe not.

ANYWAY. I'm reading a lot of discourse of how it's realistic that Max and Chloe would break up.

Even the devs have been on Twitter saying the most basic stuff you've heard a thousand times before:

As someone who’s been in a loving, committed relationship for more than a decade (and we met in our early 20s), that shit MAKES NO SENSE FOR PRICEFIELD. Move forward? Yes. Absolutely. But you can move forward with another person. Moving forward doesn't have to mean leaving your partner behind, and certainly not for these two.

Max and Chloe didn’t create a “trauma bond”. People seem to forget they were childhood best friends. They went through trauma together. There’s a difference.

Each time my wife and I went through devastating shit (cause life is a bitch sometimes), I leaned on her, we carried each other. We went through rough days, of course, we fought sometimes, but we grew together. I fell more in love with her seeing her taking decisions, reacting to me, dealing with her own shit, taking care of me when I didn’t have the energy to take care of myself as I would take care of her when the roles were reversed.

Sure, some relationships don’t survive when they go through bad times.

But Max and Chloe? These two literary broke space and time for each other.

Characters have to be profoundly CHANGED at the end of stories for them to be meaningful, for stories to move us. This has been established since we began to tell stories around campfires thousands of years ago. It's been engraved in conventional storytelling even way before Aristotle gave it a name in his Poetics.

At the end of the BAE romantic path, Chloe was ready to die for Max, and for a whole town of people who mostly despised her. She had changed profoundly. She had understood the meaning of love and loyalty and devotion, because Max showed her.

Max was ready to face the consequences of choosing Chloe. She had changed too. She had understood that loving Chloe made her better, braver, determined, that the past was in the past and that she couldn’t keep rewinding. That she had to accept herself, fight back, take ownership of her destiny.

When they left Arcadia Bay they were both devastated, but ready to fight for each other and move on. The Chloe that gave Max that reassuring touch and that loving look at the end of the game would NEVER, under no circumstances, break up with Max by letter saying all kinds of mean shit. This destroys both their characters' arcs from LIS1. It's an unsuccessful, poorly camouflaged reboot.

Maybe if the break up was presented differently it wouldn’t have enraged so many people. Maybe. We’ll never know. I’d still argue that having a path where Chloe is dead, the decision to break them up was absolutely unnecessary. But to have made that decision, and to justify the OOC behavior and the outcome of their relationship by saying “it’s realistic” (some people have taken the devs' discourse to heart) is just ridiculous and dissapointing, and just straight out unprofessional. This kind of revisionism and lack of understanding of the themes and motivations of the first game is truly baffling, so much so it’s hard for me to believe how NO ONE at Deck Nine or Square Enix with some level of responsibility and proper education in media stopped the madness.

Writers choose what to include in a story, meaning they bear responsibility for the narrative choices they make, regardless of whether those choices are realistic. Fiction is an inherently constructed art form. Authors decide what to include, exclude, emphasize, or downplay. Using “realism” as a justification can be seen as a way to avoid responsibility for narrative decisions, especially when those decisions are unpopular or ethically troubling.

This is writing 101, and I can’t believe a supposedly professional game dev studio is acting like children writing their first fics on Wattpad and falling into the realistic fallacy.

In “The Decay of Lying,” Oscar Wilde famously argued that “Life imitates Art far more than Art imitates Life,” suggesting that art should not be constrained by realism. Another example is the philosopher and literary critic Roland Barthes, who in “The Death of the Author,” argued that the meaning of a text is not determined solely by the author’s intentions, thus challenging the notion that invoking realism absolves a writer of their choices.

They CHOSE to break them up.

They chose to villainize Chloe, the canonically queer, fan-favorite character that was at the heart of the story along with Max. Together.

Crying realism doesn’t make it any less senseless, knowing damn well they knew how it would affect people.

So, Deck Nine, Square Enix: please take some fucking responsibility.

BONUS (Michel Koch ❤️):

[pitracklane]

snippets of our memories

lando norris x emilia OFC

storyline — childhood friends weave dreams of speed and ambition, unaware of the paths that will diverge them. one of the two seeks refuge from their troubled past, igniting the lost connection that hints at long-buried secrets and unspoken feelings. their worlds collide again, in monaco.

warnings! mentions of abuse, dark emotions, panic attacks, and anxiety.

chapter ii.

emilia had been ecstatic when she received the acceptance email for the prestigious dance recital in monaco—a chance to showcase her talent against the stunning backdrop of the mediterranean.

an overwhelming sense of pride washed over her as she reflected on all the hard work that had led to this moment.

juggling ballet classes, auditions, and her part-time job at the quaint little bookstore owned by mabel was no easy feat, but it was all worth it. mabel, an eccentric 70-year-old with colorful scarves and whimsical stories, treated emilia like her own daughter.

she was the first person emilia confided in about applying to the recital, fearing her parents would dismiss her dreams if she didn’t make it. her father, who often sent money as a way to compensate for his absence, didn’t believe ballet was a viable career path, and the tension in her relationship with her mother weighed heavily on her.

but mabel understood, offering unwavering support and encouragement.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯⋯⋅๑┈· ✦•┈๑⋅⋯⋯⋅๑┈·✦•┈๑⋅⋯⋯⋅๑┈·✦

every morning, before the sun had fully risen, mabel would greet emilia with a riddle as she walked through the door of the bookstore.

today, the shop smelled of coffee and old books, an aroma that always comforted emilia. mabel’s latest riddle was posted on the chalkboard by the counter: “what can travel around the world while staying in the corner?” emilia chuckled, shaking her head.

“a stamp,” she answered, as mabel glanced up from behind a stack of books with a mischievous smile.

“that’s right, my dear,” mabel beamed. “now go, chase those dreams.”

emilia couldn’t help but smile at the warmth mabel provided, something that felt more like family than her own blood.

after the store closed that evening, emilia rushed to the apartment she shared with her two best friends.

jasmine was already lounging in their living room, cat curled up in her lap, watching tv. daphne was sprawled across the couch, an open novel beside her, a coffee mug in hand. the mismatched trio had formed a perfect little world inside the cramped apartment.

jasmine, the practical one, with her cool-headed advice, and daphne, the fiery spirit who never hesitated to throw in a little mischief.

as emilia burst through the door, her face flushed with excitement, both girls looked up, instantly noticing her beaming expression.

“you won’t believe what mabel said!” emilia exclaimed, a grin tugging at her lips.

jasmine lifted an eyebrow, her voice a comforting mix of curiosity and affection. “you look like you’ve seen a ghost. what did she say?”

“she was right—her 8-ball told her this would happen!” emilia nearly squealed, mimicking the dramatic gesture mabel always did when telling her future.

“i got in. fully paid expenses to monaco. for the recital!”

daphne let out a little squeal herself, jumping up to pull emilia into a tight hug.

“i knew it! told you all that practice would pay off,” she said with a grin.

“so, i guess that means you’ll be dancing with the mediterranean as your backdrop, huh?” jasmine teased, settling back into the couch, though her eyes were filled with pride.

emilia smiled but then hesitated, the thrill of the moment waning just slightly as a familiar weight settled in her chest.

her shoulders stiffened, and she inhaled deeply. “yeah… but what if i mess up? i mean, it’s monaco and the judges there.. the pressure is—”

“hey,” daphne said, her voice steady as she leaned forward, locking eyes with emilia. “look at me. you’re going to be amazing.”

“yeah,” jasmine added softly, her tone more reassuring than she meant. “remember all those late nights you spent practicing? you’ve got this, trust me.”

they both exchanged knowing glances, and emilia could feel the tightness in her chest start to loosen, she rubbed at it but the familiar undercurrent of anxiety remained.

it had been there for days now, simmering beneath the surface, always just a breath away from overwhelming her.

“you guys…” she started, but before she could finish, daphne leaned forward, her voice shifting with playful seriousness.

“we need to see this recital. no excuses, nada, emilia. we’re coming. no arguments.”

“i would love that, but—” emilia started, but jasmine cut her off with a decisive shake of her head.

“no but! it’s happening. we’ll take a few days off along the weekend and fly out there. we’ll be there, cheering you on.” jasmine’s words were firm, but her smile softened the weight of her insistence.

emilia’s heart warmed, the anxiety creeping back but tangled with a sense of support. “thank you” she murmured, feeling a mix of gratitude and calm ever so slowly replacing the edge of worry.

daphne smirked, shifting the tone of the conversation. “oh, and speaking of support—guess who’s also in monaco right now?”

emilia’s brow furrowed, the flicker of tension rising as daphne’s words hung in the air like an open invitation, jasmine’s eyes sparkled with mischief as she chimed in.

“lando,” jasmine teased, her grin widening.

emilia’s stomach dropped at the mention of his name, a thousand memories flashing through her mind. her breath caught, and she forced a smile, brushing the unease aside.

“lando?” she said with a forced nonchalance, raising an eyebrow. “wow, he’s popping up in my life a lot lately.”

daphne leaned back with a grin. “maybe it’s a sign, you know. he’s living in monaco now for the races and whatnot. could be fun to see him, right?”

emilia rolled her eyes, trying to suppress the tightness in her chest. “if it were a sign, we would’ve never drifted apart in the first place.”

they both exchanged glances but let it drop. they didn’t know what happened between them but they knew the topic was sensitive.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯⋯⋅๑┈· ✦•┈๑⋅⋯⋯⋅๑┈·✦•┈๑⋅⋯⋯⋅๑┈·✦

later that week, emilia stood at the gate in the busy airport, the anxious hum of voices around her growing louder with every minute. the overhead speaker announcements seemed to echo, bouncing off the glass walls, filling her ears with a loud buzz that made her head throb. the tightness in her chest had returned with a vengeance, the crowd of people and the sterile air pressing in from all sides.

she felt a little lightheaded, shaky as her palms grew damp. it was just a flight. she could do this.

but still, every step felt like an effort, and her heart pounded a little harder with each moment. she clutched her boarding pass tightly, focusing on it to ground herself. she didn’t want to look around at the sea of faces. she didn’t want to hear the shrill announcements.

she wanted to be anywhere else, anywhere quieter, more controlled.

finally, after what felt like an eternity, the announcement came for boarding. emilia stood up slowly, bracing herself. “deep breath,” she whispered under her breath as she walked toward the gate.

though her hands were still trembling slightly, she focused on the flight ahead and the soft music coming from her noise canceling headphones. she was determined, she wasn’t going to let anxiety control her life more than it does already.

as the plane took off, her heart rate settled into a gentle rhythm. the view from the window as they ascended over the clouds was breathtaking, and emilia let herself enjoy the rare beauty of it all, even as her mind wandered back to her safe small apartment, the cozy clutter of books and blankets. she thought about the gifts she had bought for mabel, jasmine, and daphne—carefully chosen little trinkets from the airport that would make them smile.

she thought about the many stories she would have to share with them when they joined her in monaco later in the week.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯⋯⋅๑┈· ✦•┈๑⋅⋯⋯⋅๑┈·✦•┈๑⋅⋯⋯⋅๑┈·✦

the bustling streets of monaco appeared like a shimmering jewel below her as the plane descended toward the runway. everything looked so different, so foreign yet exhilarating. the mediterranean gleamed beneath the fading light of the setting sun, and she could feel the pulse of something new in the air.

she was about to step into a new chapter of her life, one that felt daunting but exciting at the same time.

chapter iii.

[intimidating-fettuccine]

okay, but I haven't seen EJ content lately and I miss him :(, could I request an angsty question with him?

https://www.tumblr.com/intimidating-fettuccine/728812046178811904/httpswwwtumblrcomintimidating-fettuccine6891?source=share

We're back in the fucking building again, another one for the series of 'Slender pulling the creep away from Y/N after Y/N died in their arms.'

Jack hasn't been able to breathe for what seems like hours. The second you took that fatal blow on your mission he'd rushed you home, blood dripping in a steady path the whole way as he rushed you to the medical lab. He'd tried just about everything he could think of, but the damage had already been done, and with how easily you accepted it, it just served to make him feel more dissociative. This couldn't be happening. It's not possible. He's worked so hard to learn how to apply and use medical techniques to keep everyone in the mansion safe, but he couldn't even save you, the person he loved most. By the time Slender comes down to the medical lab Jack is hunched over your body and clutching onto you, an animalistic look in his eyes as he hyperventilates, losing himself to his instincts to protect. Slender has everyone else cleaning your blood off of the flooring upstairs, wanting the lab to be empty for this. 

As Slender slowly moves closer to the two of you, Jack lets out a deep, vicious growl that would scare anyone else, but Slender keeps creeping forward. He speaks slowly, telling Jack it's okay, Slender isn't going to do anything bad, that Jack needs to calm down, that your body has to be taken care of, but he just bares his fangs and continues growling. Eventually, Slender gets too close, and Jack in a moment of weakness to his instincts latches onto him, sinking his teeth into Slender's arm, but the second he tastes Slender's blood he snaps out of it, weeping like a baby as he holds Slender's arm in his mouth. Slender gets him off of him, pulling him into an embrace as Jack begins to finally break down now that his senses are coming back to him. He clings onto Slender to ground himself, if only to prevent himself from clawing his his face and head as he feels increasingly angry at himself for not being able to save you. Slender stands with him for a while, getting him to calm down and be more stable, reassuring him that it's not his fault. Once that injury tore through your body it had already been too late, and you wouldn't want him blaming himself. Jack doesn't know what to believe anymore, but he tries his best to listen to Slender's words. 

The two of them work quietly together, getting your body cleaned up and ready to go into one of the morgue freezers. Jack wants to be the one doing it all himself, but he knows if he was left alone he'd lose himself again. Jack is shaking by the time they're done, and Slender grabs a damp cloth, tenderly cleaning your blood off of Jack's exposed skin, ridding Jack of the scent of blood keeping him riled up. He feels like a fraud. His medical talents were so good he was renowned for them in the Underworld, but he couldn't-- He inhales sharply to prevent himself from doing something rash to himself, and he stands there, flipping rapidly between ultimate despair and extreme self-loathing. Slender sits up that night, choosing to forego sleep so that he can keep Jack company, considering Jack is nocturnal and Slender doesn't want him unsupervised until it's time for him to finally get some rest he desperately needs. Slender's company is the only thing preventing Jack from breaking, and he doesn't know how to handle himself without you there to calm him down. Though, he bitterly thinks to himself as tears slide down his face, he's going to have to learn now, now that he doesn't have you to help him anymore. He's never felt more alone in his life, and that thought scares and distresses him.

[madou-dilou]

My analysis of Viren's death

Viren’s death in The Dragon Prince is one of the series' most ambiguous and tragic moments —a conclusion both majestic and cruel for the best character in the show.

Such a complicated and torn character couldn't possibly die a clear-cut death. He had to deliver a multi-faceted answer that refused any binary reading.

From the very beginning, Viren saw himself as the only one capable of protecting Katolis, willing to sacrifice himself for the greater good. But he didn’t just want to be the executor of necessary sacrifices; he wanted to be the one who decided them, who bore the burden, the hero bound by necessity, clad in luxurious black outfits, who dirties his hands for the salvation of others, who nobly accepts to soak his hands in blood because no one else has the guts to, because someone has to. And, above all, was thanked, celebrated, and obeyed for it. Even if it meant usurping the throne and claiming the title of lord protector of the realm, for he has not the idealism granted by a priviledged birth. He is an adult, a key political player of recent history, he can see what needs to be done, he is quick, decisive, and ruthless. When Harrow rejected the sacrifice of his life, dismissing him as a "nothing but a servant", it was particularly painful for him... but it wouldn’t have been if Viren had been willing to sacrifice not only his life but, more importantly, his ego.

And it is that very ego that eventually leads him to his moral downfall.

Viren’s hamartia is not that he seeks validation, but that he lets this need overshadow his empathy and morality. He says so himself: he’s desperate to matter.

And yet, though his death ultimately serves the greater good, strikingly similar to his sincere claims, it is far from a martyr’s death. It happens after he has recognized his sole responsibility for all that happened, pleaded guilty, crawled before the rightful king, his luxurious black robes gone for tattered white rags soak in sweat and dirt and blood, and all in the greatest indifference—without witnesses, without recognition, without honor, leaving no trace. "I am a servant." No one is there to see the blood he spills onto the ground. In choosing to expiation this way, just like he chose all the rest, in humility, he finally accepts what he had always refused: to be nothing more than a servant whose existence leaves no trace. This renunciation, this ultimate submission to erasure, seems to mark a true transformation for the better.

However, with this reading of a purely redemptive death comes along a different one. Equally true.

I understand why the way his death happened doesn't sit right with most of his fans. Because why on earth bother spending a whole season on a whole introspection dream teaching him that on contrary to what he always believed ("Every step I took, I took because I had to."), he was always free, thus the sole to blame for all his awful decisions ("No. No matter where you come from, no matter what you did before, each step forward is a choice. I am free and so are you""), but also therefore able to take a different path, if it's to conclude his arc (reducing him to a passive figure, trapped, framed as fly caught in a spider's web) like this... ?

... but I think the bare minor piano music, reminescent of Ramin Djiwadi's best compositions for Game of Thrones and House of the Dragon, acknowledges how awful Viren's fate actually is. The show itself acknowledges how unfair it all is.

Viren’s descent into darkness, from his first compromises to his final act, was never solely dictated by cold ambition or political calculation. It was, above all, an expression of profound self-loathing, fueled by the conviction that he could be nothing but a monster.

When Lissa called him a monster for what he was willing to do to save their son, he couldn’t help but agree with her. He once ripped the heart from a monster to save innocent lives, and now, he is doing the exact same thing. From the beginning, he has proven willing to offer his own life—not out of pure altruism, but because he has always seen himself as the monster who had no choice, the necessary instrument of a cruel balance. This is what dark magic teaches its practitioners: to see themselves and others only as tools. Viren was raised by a man who devoured his own arm to fuel his spells. His suicide, rather than a release from his ego, is its ultimate culmination: convinced that he deserves neither forgiveness nor recognition, he burns his note to disappear in silence.

His act, far from the nobility of sacrifice, instead reaffirms the worst belief he has ever held about himself—the one that led to all the others: if he believed he had the right to sacrifice others, it was precisely because he saw himself as devoid of intrinsic worth. Or rather, only ever worth whatever he was willing to lose. We’re talking about the man who screamed at his own reflection that he was nothing, worthless, until he collapsed in tears in the dark. Being indispensible was the only way he ever knew to prove he was worth something, anything.

So this final sacrifice is also the inevitable conclusion of a death wish he never truly escaped. Despite all his attempts to free himself from it, he was ultimately helpless to defy his fate. After all, sacrifice is the only thing he ever knew how to offer.

There is also a ... not pleasing classist dimension to this: Viren is a man who tried to rise above his station, to prove that his intelligence and dedication could transcend the established order, but he is punished for it. While Ezran and Callum, rulers by birthright, retain their legitimacy without ever having to earn or prove it, Viren is condemned to crawl, to cry and beg, to call himself a servant, and to disappear. His final erasure, where even his name is ignored, suggests a social fatalism: he never had a place among the born rulers, and his ascent was an aberration that history quickly wipes away. It is unfair, considering he saved countless lives—especially when Avizandum, who caused famines that left thousands of humans to starve, and Zubeia, who ordered Harrow's death, were given an entire memorial right beside Sarai’s and Harrow's tombs. I’m willing to let go of past grievances, but what would the Sunfire elves say if a statue of Viren was erected right in the middle of Lux Aurea?

Look : I wouldn't even have minded Viren's erasure from history if it had been debated on by the Katolis Council, for it would show how history is always constructed and biaised. But the show apparently doesn't care (and neither does Soren given his incoherent, insufferable persona in Book VII). Anyway

The ambiguity of Viren's death also extends to the impact of his death on his children.

His act is a liberation for Soren, a royal guard and an heir deemed disappointing, who grew up in the shadow of a father resigned to seeing him as nothing more than a sacrificial pawn. By choosing to disappear without explanation or justification, Viren spares Soren the burden of a grief weighed down by guilt or the ambivalence of a farewell letter that would have attempted to justify the wounds he inflicted. Soren can finally break free and move forward without carrying the weight of the past.

Claudia, on the other hand, a dark mage like her father, who sacrificed everything to bring him back, is shattered. Where Viren realized he was so toxic his mere presence was poisoning her, where he hoped he was freeing her by leaving, liberating her from everything she was willing to endure for him, and offering her a new life, he instead plunges her into an abyss of anger and despair from which she may never escape.

However, it is implied that Soren’s instant proposal ""take my heart" and long-acted enlistment in the royal guard, is not just noble but also the awful result of the deep self-devaluation Viren instilled in his children. Soren felt so neglected and unworthy of love he thought he could only prove himself by enlisting as a crownguard, in other words by sacrificing himself. And even now, that's probably what he's still doing when he orders Viren to take his heart. Fortunately, Viren immediately realises this and instead offers his own heart.

Similarly, Claudia, who amputated herself to save Viren, screams at his corpse, "You taught me how to love myself"… when she has just proven that she doesn’t love herself at all. It is a purely tragic paradox.

Her definition of self-love is entirely shaped by Viren’s sacrificial ideology: to love is to give until there is nothing left. He did not teach her to love herself, but to give everything, to burn herself away for another—to the point that she no longer exists outside of this devotion. This is exactly what Viren meant to stop by leaving her.

Viren realized the awful truth that he had transmitted a twisted vision of sacrifice to his children, the "dark and lonely path" : he taught them that their worth could only exist through what they were willing to lose. Soren by offering his heart, and Claudia, by tearing a leg apart, embody this bitter legacy each in their own way.

Yet, far from only ending the destructive cycles he chose to set in motion, Viren inadvertently prolongs them: Soren is freed, but Claudia is consumed by grief.

And the final nail in the children's coffin : when Viren tried to die for Harrow in episode 3 of Book I, he told what he intended to do to Soren, the crownguard, knowing he would understand, but kept it a secret from Claudia, knowing she'd try to stop him. It ultimately exactly what happens in Book VI.

Of course, because TDP loves parallels, many other parallels come to sublimate Viren’s death.

Both Ziard and Viren die defending humanity from Sol Regem, using dark magic. But Viren refuses to make others (magical creatures) bear the burden of his heroism. Ziard’s act unwittingly set a precedent of conflict and retribution, while Viren takes full responsibility upon himself.

Like Harrow, Viren, after writing a note to his son, gives his life as a lord protector of the realm, in a desperate hope to break the cycle of violence and pain they instigated—yet tragically, both inadvertently spark new cycles in their wake.

Runaan also sees himself as taking on the burden of monstrous actions for those they love. Him and Viren killed each other’s kings. The visual symmetry between Runaan’s capture and Viren’s death emphasizes their shared tragedy: bound by duty, yet, as Rayla says, monsters leaving behind a daughter who still needs them.

All these parallels show that Viren’s death embodies the show’s core themes: cycles of violence, sacrifice, and unintended consequences. Does sacrificing oneself to end them ever truly work, or does it only perpetuate them? What agency do we have in them? Can we ever escape them? Are we to blame for choosing between bad options, or to blame for not seeing these good options even exist? Do the dead ever stop breathing within us?

Despite all these contradictions—or rather, because of them—his death remains a moment of huge intensity. It is both a redemption and a condemnation, a liberation and a punishment, a necessary sacrifice and a cruel end. His final act refuses to be confined to a single interpretation, and it is precisely this complexity that makes it so unforgettable. It's just like the double-headed snake he gave Harrow. Whether one sees Viren's death as the deserved punishment of a monster who tried to be more than he could be ("leader of heroes"), or the ultimate surrender of a man convinced of his own worthlessness ("virus"), the mere fact that it could be both at once and more makes it like a multifaceted gem. An indifferent death, yet grandiose. An unjust conclusion, yet perfect.

Well I would have loved it if he had healed Lux Aurea, mentored Callum for a while and contributed significantly to Aaravos's downfall but anyway.

(Book II foreshadowing, rubbing his own wrist as the sky is set ablaze by a dying sun, on the very balcony he'll eventually commit suicide on, god I love him so much)