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thiccpettybitch · 1 year ago

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Sweet Sorrow - Ch. 1 Miguel O’hara x F!Reader

Phew, alright, I have to admit, this chapter was a bit of a struggle to write. My self-doubt and anxieties are having a go at me, and I can't help but feel like I rushed it a little. But you know what? I'd rather get it out there than keep overthinking it until I can quote it word for word.

I know it might be a bit confusing or jumbled right now, but I promise it'll get easier to understand as the story unfolds. There are so many good moments planned that I can't wait to share with you 😭

Today's been a self-doubt day for me, but hey, it happens. Now, let's talk about Sweet Sorrow, the spin-off of my baby Bitter Sweet. I'd really appreciate it if you could let me know what you think about it. If you have any questions, don't hesitate to ask.

Also, I want to take a moment to say thank you so much for all the support. We've reached over 1000 likes and over 100 reblogs, and I'm incredibly grateful for every single one. Your likes, questions, comments, and asks truly make my day brighter. I can't say it enough – thank you all from the bottom of my heart!💖

(I’ve also gotten all your asks so don’t worry! Once the next chapter of Bitter Sweet is out, i will begin slowly releasing them as well! ty again, ilu all!)

Now, I'm going to take a deep breath and keep pushing forward with the story. With your support, I know I can make it even better, and I'm excited to see where this journey takes us.

Part 2

As you find yourself hurtling towards an inevitable end, you gaze upward, and there is Miguel, falling with you. His hand reaches out with desperate hope, as if trying to bridge the impossible distance between you. Despite his bloodied and battered state, he grits his teeth, calling out for you with a heart-wrenching cry. You don’t have the strength to call out for him, tears well up in your eyes, suspended in the air like tiny, glistening droplets, as you continue to fall.

You know he won't be able to catch you; the fall is too fast, the distance too great. However perhaps selfishly so, you still use the last of your strength to call out for him, begging him to save you.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, the Green Goblin appears, swooping in on his glider. He crashes into Miguel's side, sending him careening into another building. You close your eyes letting out another sob as you watch The Green Goblin looks down at you, his face twisted with malevolence. He gives you a small, taunting wave, relishing, before setting his sights on Spiderman, on Miguel.

Will it hurt?

As you plummet, the inevitable ground approaches, and you can't help but think that this is it. In a final desperate act, you call out Miguel's name, as if it's your way of making a lasting impact on the world. The prospect of death might be beyond your control, but no one can take away the memories of his name, his face, his smile, his touch, and his love. They will be the last thoughts in your mind before you touch the ground. Before you die.

With a loud gasp, the back of your jacket unexpectedly snags on a flag post, suspending you high above the ground. As you look down, the world spins around you, making your head swirl with dizziness. Panic takes hold, and you cry out in a desperate attempt to free yourself. The flagpole protests with creaks, and you find yourself trapped, unable to move without facing a deadly plunge. It's as if fate is playing one last cruel joke on you, leaving you helplessly suspended, caught between life and death.

---

Miguel's expression contorted with pain as the glider collided with him, forcing the air from his lungs in a pained grunt. Amidst the chaos, Osborn's sinister laughter echoed in his ears, fueling his determination. He mustered every ounce of strength, pushing himself up, his talons digging into the glider's metal.

‘’Miguel--!!’’

Rage and panic surged through him, driving Miguel to lash out. With a fierce punch, he thrust his hand through the metal, causing cables and sparks to fly, but he paid no mind to the chaos around him. Osborn cursed and fought back, trying to halt his advance. Fingers closed around Miguel's mask, but he didn't care anymore, not even as the mask was yanked off, and their eyes met. A roar escaped his lips as he smacked Osborn in the face, the broken glider sending the villain flying into a nearby building.

Despite his aching body, Miguel webbed onto two buildings simultaneously, propelling himself forward through the air. He ignored the pain, focused only on reaching his destination. Landing on the roof of the building where you had fallen, he scrambled up on all fours, rushing to the edge. Before he could react, a blinding light burst through the air, and he collided with a solid mass, sending him falling backward.

Looking up, Miguel froze in astonishment. Before him stood a large, futuristic-looking Spiderman, his face concealed behind a mask, yet the intensity of his gaze felt palpable. It was as if he was scrutinizing Miguel's very soul. But the urgency in your cry brought him back to the present. Determined to reach you, he rose to his feet, ready to dash over, only to be halted by the other Spiderman's outstretched hand, signaling him to stop.

"Don't kid," the man's voice resonated with a deep yet strangely familiar tone.

"What- ¡Bastardo! ��Fuera de mi camino!" Miguel practically spat, his frustration boiling over as he tried to move past the other Spiderman. But his defiance was met with an iron grip on his suit, forcing him back to the ground with a powerful slam. Despite his own strength, Miguel found himself overpowered as the other Spiderman held him down effortlessly with just one arm.

Rage surged through him as he yelled in frustration, attempting to push the man off, but to no avail. The other Spiderman responded by slamming him back down, now using both arms to maintain control. Their faces were inches apart, and the intensity of the moment was almost suffocating.

"Listen to me!" the other Spiderman growled; his voice urgent. "I can save her! But you have to listen to me; I don't have much time!"

Miguel's eyes locked onto the stranger's face, wide with unfiltered rage. Their attention was momentarily drawn to the ledge by the sound of a creaking pole and your desperate cries.

"Hijo de puta! Get off me, I’ll rip your head off!" Miguel yelled in frustration, but his defiance only resulted in another punishing slam into the roof, leaving him gasping for breath.

As if by some futuristic mechanism, the man's mask suddenly dissolved before Miguel's eyes, leaving his face fully exposed in an instant. He froze, staring up in pure shock.

"Yeah well, good luck with that, kid," Miguel looked up at the older version of himself, utterly speechless and shocked.

"¡Escúchame!" The older man's voice echoed with intensity, his crimson eyes locking fiercely with Miguel's brown ones.

"Even if you save her now, she'll be in danger again, maybe later today, maybe tomorrow, maybe next shocking week. It doesn't matter! She'll keep facing death over and over!" Miguel shook his head, about to protest, but he was forcefully pushed back against the roof, the pain shooting through him.

"SHUT UP!" the older version of himself shouted, cutting off any further objections.

"She is destined to die! Because of you! Because of who you are, because of who WE are! But I can save her… I can save her life, you understand?’’ Miguel gazed up at the man, still in shock and pain, his eyes glazing over as he looked toward the ledge of the building.

"I can save her. But she can never see you again. She will be safe with me; she can have a life with me, but only if I take her with me. You have to let her go." The older version of himself pressed him down before rising and leaning over Miguel, hovering just above him, his finger pointing directly at his face.

"You go over there now, you save her?" He pointed towards the edge. "She dies. And there is NOTHING I can do about it. You have to make a choice, right now." Miguel swallowed hard, his eyes glossing over as he looked at the ledge and then back at the older version of himself.

"I…" Miguel hesitated, his heart pounding in his chest.

"CHOOSE, NOW!" The older Miguel barked, his teeth showing in a fierce display of impatience.

"I… Save her! I love-" Miguel's voice trembled as he looked up at the older version of himself. To his surprise, the man's expression softened slightly. In that fleeting moment, they shared a connection. Miguel blinked, and just like that, the mask formed back over the older man's face, concealing his emotions once more. He stood tall, turning away from Miguel, leaving him sitting there.

"I'll keep her safe. Tienes mi palabra," the man said, glancing briefly over his shoulder before leaping off the side of the building.

Miguel remained sitting there, a mixture of relief and sorrow flooding through him. He watched as bright lights illuminated the scene, listening to your desperate calls for him. His entire body went rigid. He dashed up, rushing to the side, only to catch a fleeting glimpse of the portal closing, taking you away with it. You were gone, leaving him standing there alone, his fists trembling at his sides. The distant sounds of the city were drowned out by the deafening sound of his heart hammering in his ears.

---

The flagpole keeps creaking, and panic engulfs you as you frantically search for anything to hold onto, causing you to swing back and forth in desperation. With every creak, the pole bends a little more, making your heart race even faster. You stretch upward, trying to grasp onto it as it starts bending downwards.

Your hands wrap around the pole, but you feel yourself slipping, and in desperation, you cry out for Miguel, for anyone, to come and save you. The bolts that attach the flagpole to the wall begin to move as your weight puts strain on the weak fastenings, threatening to give way.

In a terrifying moment, the small flagpole is pulled out of the loosening bolts, and you scream as it drops, together with you.

Suddenly, a figure casts a shadow above you, and you look up just in time to witness another Spiderman's arrival. His talons dig into the wall as he slides down, causing it to crack apart. In a swift move, he snatches the collar of your shirt, catching you, and with incredible strength, he pulls you up and holds you with one arm. For a moment, you stare at each other, shocked and slightly bloodied you stare up at the eyes of his mask slowly narrowing, as if he waited for something to happen.

But before you can comprehend what's happening, the man throws you through a portal, and you scream out for Miguel, your voice echoing in desperation. He follows right behind you, and the world around you shifts drastically.

The surroundings are strange, uncanny, and constantly morphing into different shapes, colors, and constructs. It feels as if you're floating in space, yet there's a sense of movement, as if the world around you is shifting and transforming. Shapes, sounds, and colors blend together, creating an otherworldly experience. It's as if you've entered a realm where time, space, and reality intertwine, leaving you in a state of awe and bewilderment.

Suddenly, the man reappears, the other Spiderman, leaping towards you with a trademark Spiderman leap. Panic grips you as you scramble to escape. Whoever this guy was, whether he wore a Spiderman suit or not, he wasn’t Miguel.

You flail your arms and legs, akin to a dog attempting to swim for the first time. However, before you can fully comprehend what's happening, a hand snatches you up and propels you towards yet another bright light. Your body is flung through the portal, leaving you disoriented and landing on your front in a large and dimly lit room.

Slowly, you push yourself up on your arms, whispering a quiet, pained "ow..." The realization of the situation dawns on you, and your eyes shoot open. Flipping over onto your back, you begin to crawl backward, putting distance between yourself and the man who is stepping toward you.

Every muscle in your body tenses with fear and uncertainty. Your heart pounds loudly in your chest as you try to make sense of where you are and what's happening. The dim light in the room casts eerie shadows, adding to the surreal atmosphere. You don't know who this man is or what he wants, and your instincts urge you to keep your distance.

"Lyla!" His voice startled you, and as you turned around, a cheerful yellow hologram of a woman materialized on the man's shoulder.

[Oh, hey Boss~ How’d it go- Oh…]

Suddenly the hologram playfully teleported in front of you. Instinctively, you scooted back, keeping both of them at arm's length. The hologram, Lyla, flickered momentarily before returning to the man's shoulder.

"Check her vitals and bring up the statistics from her dimension," he says, drawing a circle with his hand to encompass all of you. As he walks past, you scramble away, realizing that he doesn't seem interested in you. Making his way over to some monitors, he starts typing something in.

[Got it]

The hologram nonchalantly shrugs her shoulders as a bright yellow light shines over you, seemingly scanning your body. You instinctively move away, flinching as the light flicks from one side of you to the other.

[Elevated heart rate; 123 bpm. The respiratory rate is increased, steady at 15. Without a thorough check-up, I can't provide precise statistics. However, based on a quick review, she shows possible signs of anxiousness and confusion, and she might be somewhat disoriented. Additionally, she could be showing signs of paleness, which might indicate a drop in her blood pressure, although that could also be due to a lack of sun exposure... sorry to call you out, y/n]

"Lyla..." The man's voice carried a cautious tone as he swiftly typed on a hologram keyboard, summoning screens before him.

[The canon is stable, no disruptions or anomalies detected.] The hologram swiftly flicked around and settled in front of you, making you flinch involuntarily.

[I'm so excited to have you here! I mean, hiiiii! My name is Lyla! I have so many questions for you~ By the way, is that your natural hair color? Because-] Lyla's bubbly introduction is interrupted as you ask, your hands trembling slightly.

"How do you know my name…?" you inquire, feeling a mix of curiosity and unease.

Lyla flicks, and in an instant, her back is turned towards you, now facing Miguel with her hands on her hips. Then she flicks again and reappears in front of him.

[You didn't tell her?] she asks Miguel, sounding somewhat surprised.

"Haven't really had the chance to yet," he snapped at her, clearly annoyed, as he finished whatever he was doing on the monitors. Finally, he turned around to face you.

The man walked over towards you, and fearfully, you scrambled backward. He stopped, holding his hands up in a sign of surrender, and let out a tired sigh. "I won't hurt you," he reassured you. Despite his words, you still flinched and moved back even more as he takes another step towards you.

"You have my word; you are safe here. I just need to give you this," he said, holding up what seemed like a futuristic watch.

As he moves forward and you flinch back once again, your back pressed against the wall, he lets out a frustrated sound. Suddenly, he leaps at you and snatches your wrist, causing you to cry out and instinctively smack your closed fist against his chest.

"Stop! Wait! Just—just hold still!" You try to pull away from him as he tris to calm you down, his grip tight as he tries to hold you in place.

"No, stop moving, I'm—stop," he says wearily, trying to get you to calm down.

"No! Let go of me! HELP ME, SOMEONE, PLEASE!" Panic surges through you, and your body is on high alert as you thrash around in his grip, your eyes darting around the room for someone, anyone.

He snatches both of your wrists, trying to hold you still, but your panic escalates into a full-blown panic attack. You pull, hit, and kick him, desperately trying to pry your hands away and get away from him.

"Just—STOP!" The man finally says, grabbing the bottom of your face and forcing you to look up at him. You resist at first, attempting to break free from his grip, until you finally open your eyes and freeze. As you watch, the Spider-Man mask covering his face dissolves away, revealing his face.

The man standing in front of you was a spitting image of Miguel, a bit older, with a few more wrinkles likely from frowning and stress rather than actual age, you would have guessed. He stared down at you, his eyebrows knitted together in a frown. Shocked and unable to move, you could only stand there, gazing up at him.

He took the opportunity to snap the bracelet onto your wrist. It wasn't tight, but it felt secure enough that it wouldn't easily come off. You didn't even notice, too absorbed in staring at his face.

Finally, Miguel, older Miguel, let go of you and straightened up, his gaze turned away with a noticeable frown on his face.

"Who..." you asked, your eyebrows tightly together as you took in his appearance.

"My name is Miguel O'Hara. I lead an elite strike force dedicated to the security of the multiverse-" he began explaining.

"What- no," you interrupted, taking a step back and shaking your head, a look of confusion and disapproval on your face, "I know Miguel, you—you're not my—"

"I am Miguel, but not your Miguel, I am from another dimension," he clarified, attempting to make sense of the situation.

[This dimension, to be more specific], Lyla chimed in, appearing hovering above his shoulder, seemingly nonchalant.

You shook your head slowly, your lip trembling as you glanced down at the floor, trying to process what you had just been told. You closed your eyes tightly, attempting to stop the swirling emotions from overwhelming you. It was as if by not agreeing and not wanting it to be true, you hoped somehow to fix the situation.

"I don't—I don't know you. I want to go back; I need to make sure Miguel—MY Miguel is okay!" You push past him and walk over to where the portal had been, running your hands over the surface of the wall, searching for some sort of button or switch.

"You can't go back," he says firmly.

"What?" you ask, turning around to face him. "What do you mean 'can't'? You brought me here, so you can take me back!" you protest.

"You," he sighed, glancing around the room, searching for the right words before finally closing his eyes in defeat. He looked at you with a serious expression, "You were supposed to die tonight, but I managed to find a way around it. However, for that to happen and for you to survive, you can't.... you can't go back. I'm sorry."

"You're lying... I survived! I've been in dangerous situations before! I—this was no different, I got saved—" you protested, your emotions running high.

"You got saved by ME; I interfered. Without it, you would have been killed," he explained, his hands now on his hips as he walked over to you slowly.

"In our worlds... as Miguel and y/n, we are the equivalent of a Spiderman," he pointed at his own chest and then gestured to yours, "and a Gwen Stacy."

You frowned, looking at his hand, and he let out a quiet sigh. "It's a messed up 'never meant to be' canon event that is unavoidable, trust me – I have tried. As soon as versions of us meet, it starts."

"What starts?" you asked, feeling confused.

"A canon event, something that can't be avoided without the risk of total and complete destruction of that dimension," he responded matter-of-factly.

You let out a bitter laugh. "You're kidding me, right? You want me to believe that an entire dimension, world, universe—whatever—would collapse just because versions of us start dating?"

"Do I look like I'm joking?" he asked, taking a step towards you, his voice low and dangerous as he towered over you. "In every universe, versions of us date, and you, almost every version of you, die. That's your story."

Miguel leaned back, looking down at you with disdain. "Or, if you're lucky, I'm the one who dies. Either way, that's our story, our fate. If anything, or anyone, breaks that cycle, THAT then threatens that dimension's safety."

"Why?!" Your voice broke, and a mixture of anger and sadness welled up inside you, tears building up in your eyes.

He let out a sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Because it's a canon event! And canon events cannot be broken without the risk of complete multidimensional collapse."

Everything he said sounded so foreign to you, yet strangely believable. The sincerity in his voice and the evidence you had witnessed so far led you to believe him. He didn't come across as a man who would lie. But believing his words didn't mean you had to accept them.

Your hands felt clammy, and a cold shiver ran down your spine. A headache began to pulse in your temples, and as you looked up, the room seemed to spin around you, leaving you feeling dizzy and disoriented. This couldn't be happening... this couldn't be real.

"I-I want to go back. Take me back..." you desperately say, your words a mix of a plea and demand.

"I can't do that," he responds, his hands on his hips.

"Let me go back!" you cry out, tears spilling down your cheeks.

"I can't do that," he responds again, avoiding your gaze, a heavy weight in his voice.

You feel yourself heat up, anger and panic mixing into a dangerous and unfamiliar mess inside you, threatening to erupt. Suddenly, a door next to you opens, revealing two people dressed in Spiderman suits—one wearing a blue vest, and the other clad in a fully black suit with white marks.

"Take her to my quarters, let her lay down and rest until I find a place for her to stay," Miguel mumbles, tiredly rubbing his eyes with one hand as he turns around to leave.

"Don't touch me... I’m not going anywhere!" you warn, your voice firm

Miguel stops and his head whips around as he looks down at you, his eyebrows raised. The unspoken question, dare, hung heavily in the air.

Is that so?

---

You thrashed around, your fists smacking into his bulky back as he had you slung over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Curses and threats spilled from you, but he remained nonchalant, walking ahead with a frown on his face. Your yelling caught the attention of people around you, and as you looked up, you realized that everyone was wearing different kinds of suits, all with some sort of Spider symbol or design.

After an awkwardly long elevator ride, during which you had tired yourself out with all your kicking and thrashing, you heard the ding as the elevator doors opened. Stepping outside, he carried you until he ended up in front of a pair of doors. He dropped you on your feet and you opened your mouth about to curse him out when he spun you around and pushed you inside.

"You—YOU! You can't just... I HAVE RIGHTS!" you shouted in frustration and anger.

"Oh? Great, oh wow" he responded sarcastically, barely letting you get your words out.

"AND YOU CAN'T JUST, JUST TAKE ME AND—" you continued to vent your anger.

"Uh huh, uh huh," he nodded, his hands on his hips, watching you storm over towards him with a mocking smile on his face.

The doors closed abruptly in your face, and you stopped, your eyes wide with pure shock. For a moment, you were left speechless, trying to process what had just happened, your eye twitching in annoyance.

And then? Then you began breaking stuff.

You were yelling a mixture of gibberish and curses, you had been smacking your hand against the metal sliding doors for what felt like hours, kicking at them, and demanding to be let out. When that didn’t work you began trashing the place, kicking chairs out of your way, smacking over books and bowls and- well… the place wasn’t really decorated much. Until finally you were left pacing back and forth, a pillow held tightly in your hands, it was the only thing around not yet on the floor.

You finally stopped, backing up to take in your surrounding and the state of the room, as your back hit the wall, you slowly came to a stop, dropping the pillow you had been holding. It wasn't much of a weapon, but in that moment, you didn't really care; your mind was not thinking straight.

Your eyes shifted around the room, taking in the destruction you had unintentionally caused. Finally, you slumped back, feeling your body slide down against the wall until you landed softly on the floor. You pulled your knees up against your chest and wrapped your arms around them hiding your face.

In your mind, this felt like a terrible nightmare you desperately wanted to wake up from. You yearned to open your eyes and find yourself back in the safety of your bedroom, with sunlight streaming through the blinds. The comforting routine of having breakfast with your aunt and uncle, followed by a trip to school to meet your friends and, of course, Miguel. It filled your heart with a sense of normalcy you sorely missed.

Your chest felt so tight for a moment that you thought you might be having a heart attack, but it was more likely a panic attack taking hold of you. The knot in your stomach tightened, and the silence around you only amplified your distress. It felt as if the world was closing in, leaving you struggling for breath and unable to think straight.

You desperately needed to wake up. This had to be nothing more than a terrible nightmare. Lifting your tear-stained face from your arms, you took in the surroundings of the room, hoping to find some semblance of familiarity. It was a small, cramped space with a kitchen area, a bedroom, a compact living area with a large desk, and finally, a door that you presumed led to the bathroom. At first glance, it didn't look like a jail cell, but then why did it feel as though invisible metal bars were closing in around you?

Your eyes shifted to your wrist, and you had to take a deep breath to steady yourself. The braided bracelet encircling it suddenly felt so heavy, like a weight pulling you down. Your chin trembled, and your vision blurred as tears welled up in your eyes. Finally, unable to hold back any longer, you began to weep, tears streaming down your cheeks as you rested your forehead against the bracelet.

After what felt like hours of crying, you noticed a bright yellow light shined down on you. Looking up, you watched as Lyla materialized in front of you, silently observing you.

[Miguel has instructed me to give you a quick tour of his quarters. Would you... like me to show you around?]

If you had to guess, you would probably say she's some kind of AI; thus, who knows if she could feel sympathy or even understand what you were going through. Running the back of your hands over your eyes, you wiped away some of the tears, but you were still unable to get your breathing under control.

[Is there anything I can help you with? I could pull up a few breathing exercises or calming videos of puppies if you would like?]

You eyed her for a moment, contemplating whether she was being genuine or making fun of you. Based on the tone of her voice and the hologram itself, Lyla seemed to be at least trying to comfort you.

[I have to admit... I'm not really good at this. It's not as if Miguel possesses a wide range of emotions.]

"What time is it?" You asked, choosing to ignore her attempt at small talk.

[It's approximately six PM.]

"Why is it so dark in here?"

[Miguel prefers it that way. In his work station and quarters, you'll find the lighting is usually kept dim.]

You glance around the room and realize that one of the reasons it feels like a glorified prison cell is the lack of a window.

"Does he hate windows too?" you ask bitterly.

[No. However, I was instructed not to open it due to...] She trails off, nervously flickering her gaze around the room.

"Due to what?" you press, narrowing your eyes as you slowly stand.

[There are napkins in the third drawer of his desk, please help yourself,] she said, smoothly changing the subject.

Silently, you walked over to the desk, your gaze fixated on the drawers. You made a mental note to check them all out later, when you weren't being watched. You pulled on the drawer, and there, on top of some files, you found the box of napkins. You consciously ignored the box of lotion that lay behind it.

"Terrific..." you muttered to yourself, feeling slightly frustrated.

"Why can't you open a window?" you demanded.

[I am fully capable of opening a window, it's—] Lyla began to explain.

"Why were you instructed not to, then?" you interrupted, your upper lip twitching in annoyance.

Lyla fell quiet, flickering around until she reappeared in front of you on the desk. You wiped your nose and some tears off your face, feeling a mix of emotions. Suddenly, a noise on the far wall caught your attention. You looked over and watched as some blinds, which had been impossible to spot in the dark, cracked open, allowing a stream of light to finally shine in.

[Ooh, WOW! Haha! Look at this place! You ripped it apart! That's so funny, Miguel is gonna lose his mind,] she exclaimed.

"Is he violent?" you ask, making your way towards the window.

[What? Of course not! Well, if you're wondering if you have anything to fear, then no,] she assures you.

"Oh good, I'm glad my kidnapper doesn't have violent tendencies," you retort. There was a time when you might have felt guilty about your attitude, but after everything that had happened, you couldn't care less.

[Would you like me to put on some music? I know what you like! I have a few playlists saved based on your—] she begins to suggest.

"How high up are we? Are you able to remove the blinds completely?" you inquire, glancing out the window as you test the strength of the metal blinds.

[y/n... Even if I opened those blinds, and even if you weren't several hundred feet above the ground (I do not have permission to disclose HQ information with you), and you could get out...] Lyla flicked to your side, her avatar looking at you with sympathetic eyes, or as close to it as she could manage.

[You're not in your own dimension. You're not even really in your own timeline; you're about an average human's lifetime ahead of your own timeline. Even if I let you out... you'd have nowhere to go], she gently explained, delivering the disheartening truth.

As the blinds peeled back loudly, the entire window was revealed, causing you to flinch instinctively. You turned your head quickly to see Miguel, the other Miguel, leaning against the doorframe with his hand sliding off a button.

Glancing outside, you watched the city before you, and the knot in your stomach grew. Everything looked futuristic, with cars soaring down below and buildings towering even taller than those back home.

Home...

The only thing that looked remotely similar to home were the large, over-the-top billboards littering the city. You were too high up to actually see the people walking down below, which did prove that Lyla hadn't been lying.

Lyla flicked over to Miguel, hovering above his shoulder, engaged in a quiet conversation with him. As you turned towards them, the growing tightness in your chest returned. Slowly, you walked away from the window, positioning yourself on the opposite side of him—more importantly, the opposite side of the door. Miguel casually observed you, and for the first time since you had seen his face, he wasn't frowning. You glanced at the open doorway behind him and then back at him, trying to keep your face as neutral as possible.

"Don't..." He casually warned, staring down at you.

Turning around, you began walking towards the kitchen, attempting to feign hunger by casually sliding your hand over your stomach. But as soon as you were near the door, your only plan was to get the hell out of there and away from him.

With a swift move, you tried to slip past him, but he reacted lightning-fast, grabbing your wrist and hoisting you up in the air. He forcefully pulled you backwards, leaving your toes barely touching the floor, before throwing you onto his couch.

"Enough already—" Miguel started to say, but he had to stop himself as you made another desperate attempt to dash past him. He pushed you down against the couch, one hand on your chest.

"Let me out of here! Send me home!" you hissed, trying to push him away, but his grip was firm.

"YOU ARE AN ANOMALY! If you go back there, your whole dimension will disappear, together with everything in it! Everyone you know, your friends, family, loved ones—everyone will die," Miguel explained, his hand keeping you in place as you stared up at him, breathing heavily, and eventually slumping back against the couch.

You didn't have the energy to question him further. You smacked his hand away from you, sitting up and leaning forward. Your arms rested on your knees, and you covered your face with your hands. The amount of information from unreliable sources was overwhelming, making your head spin and your stomach churn.

You fell backwards against the couch, silently staring out the window. For a brief, beautiful moment, your brain seemed to take pity on you and dissociated from reality, allowing you to watch the sun finally set and the darkness of the night slowly taking over. While Miguel occupied himself with some paperwork, speaking into his bracelet, and moving about his quarters, he eventually settled down across from you on the couch.

As you continued to gaze out the window, he watched you intently, about to say something when you interrupted him. "Is Miguel safe—my Miguel?"

He nodded silently, and you closed your eyes, letting out a breath. "I... I won't ever see him again, will I?" you asked, your eyes welling up with tears as you looked over at him.

"No," he answered quietly.

Closing your eyes, you felt tears streak down each cheek. "Why is this happening? Why—" you began, feeling overwhelmed with emotions.

Miguel sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. After a moment of silence, he looked up at the spot above your head before his gaze settled on you, making it appear as though he almost looked down at you as he spoke.

"Every Spider-person's life is connected, woven together in this... beautiful web of life and destiny. It's called the Arachno-Humanoid Poly-Multiverse," Miguel explained.

As you blinked in bewilderment, a look of pure confusion crossed your face. Miguel, looking annoyed, glanced away before sighing.

"Or... The Spiderverse, if that makes it easier," he muttered. "It's easier if we just—Ugh. Lyla, do the thing!"

[Huh? What thing?]

Miguel's stoic expression melted into one of confusion and borderline bewilderment. He shook his head, clearly perplexed, and turned to glance at Lyla, ‘’What- What do you mean ‘what thing?’ The information, explainy thing!’’

[Oh, okay!] Lyla responded.

As the blinds fall over the window again, you jump in your seat, and suddenly the room transforms from pitch black to a display of red laser-like shapes forming in front of you. The shapes resemble hundreds, if not thousands, of small webs, all interconnected. Each one takes the form of a small heptagon with tiny images inside, depicting various events. However, the images are too small to make out clearly, and Miguel mumbles something about it being easier to show in the "big room."

You lean forward, engrossed in his explanation. "These nodes," he points them out for you, "they're where the lines converge; they are the canon. Chapters that are a part of every Spider's story, every time." You watch as Miguel leans forward, his eyes shifting from one node to another as he speaks.

"Some good..." He looks over at another node. "Some bad..."

"Some very bad." He stops at the node in front of you, his gaze shifting up to meet yours.

"That's how the story's supposed to go. The canon events are the connections that bind our lives together," Miguel said, his eyes narrowing slightly as he watched you. "But those connections can be broken. That's why anomalies..." He looked away from you, his expression turning bitter, "are so dangerous."

"In universes where versions of us meet and become... close, our relationship becomes a canon event, an event that always has and always will end with one of us dying. You weren't supposed to survive in your universe," he explained solemnly.

"Do I always... die at the same time?" you ask, your voice tinged with sadness and confusion.

"No. Sometimes you... we—" Miguel hesitates, searching for the right words, "Versions of us begin lives together. Some get married, some have children, and some... some die before even making it as far as you did," he says, bitterness evident in his voice.

"And now, because that story has changed, you have become an anomaly. Which means that if you return, your dimension will begin unraveling. And there is no stopping that," Miguel explains, his tone somber and resigned.

"What..." you say, distraught.

"It's what happens when you break the canon,"

"Then why... why am I alive? Why did you save me?" you ask, eyebrows furrowed.

"Because I... I found a way—a way to save you," he responds, his expression serious, but a hint of melancholic determination gleaming in his eyes, as if just speaking those words aloud was an act of defiance against some unfathomable force.

"How many other versions of me have you saved?" you ask, his gaze remaining on you for a moment before faltering, and he looks away, seemingly feeling ashamed.

"None. You are... you are the only one I could save," he admits.

You silently watch him, trying to process the weight of what he had just revealed, whether intentional or not.

"That's why you can't go back. If you break enough canons, we could lose..." He gestures, and you watch as nodes begin to crumble, causing the entire web to slowly disintegrate. "Everything."

"We...?" you question, seeking clarification.

Miguel let out a tired sigh, scooting forward and reaching for your hand. You flinched at his touch, and he looked up at you, his frown slowly softening as you held out your arm. He lifted your sleeve and showed you a small red spot, the mosquito bite you had gotten a few days ago.

"For you to survive, you..." He trailed off, his thumb running over the spot slowly. "There can only be one Spider-person in every dimension. If, for whatever reason, another person becomes one, then they also become an anomaly. At that point, one of the spider-people either dies, or the dimension itself collapses. Sometimes, it's both."

Your eyes meet as he holds onto your arm. "For you to survive, you had to become... an anomaly. Instead of you dying, you became an anomaly and then got removed from that dimension. Things change without tipping the scale, without breaking the canon."

"An anomaly... You turned me into a Spider-person?" you gasp.

Miguel silently watches you. "Not exactly... I injected you with—"

"Wait! So, Miguel could die? I mean, if there can only be one Spider-person, what if the universe or dimension or canon, or whatever it is, doesn't realize I'm gone? It could still kill him?!" you interrupt, your concern and anxiety evident in your voice.

[I have run hundreds of statistics, and so far, none show any dimensional rupture or damage. The canon has technically not been broken, only altered. The end results are still the same—only one Spider-man, only one of the two of you in the dimension.]

‘’This was just some test to you? You’re risking Miguel's life, my entire dimension because of what some AI calculated?!’’ You stand up abruptly, staring down at Miguel.

[Hey!] Lyla objects, clearly offended.

‘’As long as you don’t go back and interact with that dimension, it should be safe,’’ Miguel leans forward, looking up at you with a hint of a smile on his face. ‘’You were— are, a scientific miracle. A breakthrough never thought to be possible. However, if something does disrupt your dimension, it’s our job to try to fix it. We’re not always lucky, but—‘’

You leap over the small coffee table between the two of you, aiming for the collar of his suit. Miguel swiftly captures your wrists in his hands, holding you firmly in place as you glare down at him, tears welling in your eyes.

‘’You sick-‘’ you hiss, baring your teeth at him, your nails digging into his hands.

‘’y/n, you were going to die. If not you, then your Miguel would have. You can hate me as much as you want. I didn’t make the rules, you think I’d want this…?’’ Miguel's voice wavers slightly, his eyes reflecting a mix of guilt and desperation.

In that moment, the anger inside you clashes with a sudden wave of overwhelming sadness and helplessness. You struggle against his grip, but Miguel's hold remains steady, as if he's trying to protect you from yourself.

‘’You should have just let me die,’’ you glare at him, and he looks at you, his eyes widening in surprise, ‘’At least then my dimension, my Miguel would have been safe.’’

‘’I... couldn’t...’’ Miguel mumbles, staring into your eyes, his own welling up with emotion.

‘’Why?!’’ you ask with tearful eyes, glaring down at him, your heart heavy with frustration and grief.

He watches you silently for a moment, his expression pained, before his eyebrows knit together, and he pushes you back against the couch, releasing your wrists as you fall back. ‘’No more questions for today. Lyla, get her something to eat. I have a headache.’’

You continued objecting, ignoring Lyla's attempts to distract you with food recommendations and takeout options. Your mind was consumed by the weight of the revelations, and the internal struggle left you feeling torn apart. Miguel eventually left, locking the door behind him, leaving you alone to process everything that had been revealed.

Unable to find solace in the chaos of your thoughts, you finally dropped down against the couch, pulling your knees up into a fetal position. The tears welled up again, and you cried yourself to sleep, exhaustion and emotional turmoil taking its toll on your body and mind.

---

In the following days or weeks – time seemed hazy in this new dimension – you settled into a monotonous routine. Conversations were rare, especially with Miguel. Sleeping on the couch, facing away from the room, you woke each morning to find a comforting blanket placed over you. Emotions churned as you grappled with the reality of being an anomaly here. Memories of home and loved ones tugged at your heart, while uncertainty and vulnerability clouded your mind

As days passed in the unfamiliar dimension, you grew closer to Lyla. Despite your attempts to ignore her, she proved to be persistent and engaging. She spent time with you, sharing stories and anecdotes, breaking through your emotional barriers.

During a conversation, you discovered that she had been "observing" you for quite a while. While it felt like stalking to you, she insisted it was part of her duties. After a two-hour debate, you agreed to disagree.

Lyla's presence became a source of solace in the disorienting dimension. She became a friend, easing the burden of being stranded far from home. In this vast multiverse, her companionship reminded you of the need for friendship, someone to confine in, someone to speak to.

She reminded you of Gwen…

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turningsoft · 11 months ago

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Richie Tozier & Will Byers Werewolf Metaphor Post

@pinkeoni's old What's up with all the werewolves? post and its further discussion made me think of a lot. Seriously, it's lengthy.

I wanna preface this by saying I don't actually believe everything is connected or intentional, as it would be a huge reach. However, it's rather interesting to draw connections even where there were intended none. Proceed at your own peril.

As we all know, the Duffers originally wanted to write Stephen King's IT remake. Naturally, we also know they took some inspiration from King's various work, so for me it was a really small leap from werewolf references in Stranger Things to Richie's werewolf in IT.

Richie Tozier Was A Teenage Werewolf

In the book, Richie goes to see a horror double-feature, which includes movies I Was a Teenage Werewolf and I Was a Teenage Frankenstein (both 1957). Let's read the excerpt from the novel.

The Teenage Frankenstein was suitably gross. The Teenage Werewolf was somehow scarier, though… perhaps because he also seemed a little sad. What had happened wasn't his own fault. There was this hypnotist who had fucked him up, but the only reason he'd been able to was that the kid who turned into the werewolf was full of anger and bad feelings. Richie found himself wondering if there were many people in the world hiding bad feelings like that. Henry Bowers was just overflowing with bad feelings, but he sure didn't bother hiding them.

Now, this quote contains a lot of information to suggest that Richie at least empathizes with the character, but we don't actually see him relating to Tony until Richie comes face to face with Pennywise — for the first time, or so he thinks. During this encounter, It takes the form of the Teenage Werewolf and chases Bill and Richie out of the house on Neibolt Street. His appearance is described in great detail and mostly doesn't contradict the original movie, except for the werewolf's silk jacket.

It was black with orange piping — the Derry High School colors.

And a bit further on:

It was the other thing that made him feel as if he might faint, or just give up and let it kill him. A name was stitched on the jacket in gold thread, the kind of thing you could get done down at Machen's for a buck if you wanted it. Stitched on the bloody left breast of the Werewolf's jacket, stained but readable, were the words RICHIE TOZIER.

In the movie it's Tony's signature jacket that allows others to recognize him in his werewolf form, so it only makes sense to assume Richie's scared because he's forced to recognize himself in the monster. The implications affect him so deeply that he considers giving up his own life.

Bad feelings

It provides a bit of insight into Richie's head and makes us question what exactly he considers “bad feelings” within himself, if not anger (he doesn't seem to be an angry person). Some speculate it has to do with growing up and becoming an unstable, hormonal teenager in the future. Others link it to his possible undiagnosed ADHD, self-hatred and the ever-present fear of being ostracized for his differences, both visible and not. Being a queer person in the 50's would also fit the narrative pretty well. For those who are interested, I strongly recommend reading expanded analysis on the matter here (werewolf as a symbol in IT), here (bisexuality viewed as “monstrous”) and here (Richie's fears explained).

Not his fault

Obviously, none of the aforementioned reasons justify putting such strong labels (monster, werewolf) on a literal child. Richie seems to understand he's not at fault for whatever makes him a target, but he also believes in a strong possibility someone can inflict this inhuman identity upon him. Despite already being bullied, he fears his situation can take a turn for the worse. And despite having a wonderful support system, he somehow knows it's not enough. If someone or something decides to “fuck him up” and exploit his vulnerable state, they will, so he cuts down on the amount of vulnerability. Heavily. I can't believe I'm still not talking about Will Byers.

Hiding stuff

As ironic as it sounds, Richie Tozier is canonically good at hiding. Other people find it difficult to make up their minds about his personality and actions — the most famous instance being, perhaps, this quote.

He had known Richie Tozier for four years, and he still didn't really understand what Richie was about.

Richie uses his Voices and “numbers” both as a shield and a weapon. He shows raw emotions only when he considers it absolutely safe. He takes “refuge in absurdity”. To reiterate @/jasperathrifteddoll's werewolf symbolism post, Richie 1) is confusing; 2) tells half-truths; 3) puts up facades; 4) “through his concealment of his inner thoughts to the reader, seems almost aware of his status as a book's narrator”.

All of Richie's fears are connected to or based on public perception. “But he knew well enough” has earned a meta post in and of itself.

Will Byers Has Werewolves In His Closet

So what's the meaning behind this werewolf costume in the Trick or Treat, Freak episode? Maybe it's a manifestation of one of Will's fears, or maybe there's no hidden message. After all, even if Stranger Things and IT are connected, I Was A Teenage Werewolf has nothing to do with ST… Unless we consider it left a huge legacy and inspired The Cramps to write a song of the same name — the one that introduced Eddie Munson to the audience in S04E01. Frankly speaking, I don't think this was an easter egg the writers were actively trying to include, but it doesn't take away from the parallel. It's still fun to compare Will and Richie, especially because on a surface level they're so unlike.

To execute Stephen King's werewolf metaphor, one would need:

a character with enough emotional baggage,

who is afraid of being perceived as a monster,

especially as a result of trusting an authority figure,

who breaks his trust and exploits his vulnerable state,

potentially making him dangerous in the process.

Let's see if Will ticks all the boxes.

Bad feelings

Will's otherness is easy to pick up on. It's either “being a sensitive artistic kid who grew up to be gay in the 80's” or “being a child who was abducted to a horrific dimension and is now attached to it”. Arguably, we don't even have to choose: these two plots are closely related and can become one through the AIDS metaphore. Not to mention the whole “growing up poor with an abusive and neglectful father” thing. Simply put, Will Byers has plenty reason to experience “bad feelings”. On a rare occasion, we can hear about his struggles firsthand.

Bad feelings = self-hatred

So far, Will has internalized a variety of epithets:

“Zombie Boy”

“Freak”

“Stupid”

“Mistake”

We can see each of them affect him to some extent.

In season 2, during multiple heart-to-hearts with Jonathan, Will expresses his desire for everyone to stop treating him different, like there's something wrong with him. Meaning, he himself doesn't think there's something wrong. He stubbornly insists: “Yeah, I am. I am [a freak],” but he's quick to be offended when Jonathan agrees. It reads as a defense tactic, not his own opinion. After all, when you pointedly address yourself in a hurtful fashion, shouldn't those words stop holding power over you?

When drawing the Zombie Boy, Will essentially tries to reclaim this identity in a way that's true to him — by using art. He doesn't want to passively accept the label, he wants to strip it of its negative connotations. But then again, when a kid deemed as dead comes back to life, it's a pretty dumb reason to bully him. Will probably knows it's dumb, so he fights back. His homosexuality, though, is a harder pill to swallow.

There's no denying he feels guilty for his attraction to Mike (well, boys, but Mike specifically). Guilty and other things as well, a mixture of shameful, jealous, hurt, confused and angry. In seasons 3 and 4 he learns that even the tiniest portions of his affection and his sincerest attempts at salvaging a friendship can be neglected or misconstrued. It cuts deeply.

Then there's, of course, the van scene. Will says he feels like a mistake sometimes. Not all the time, he clears up. Mike makes him feel better for being different, and yet Will cries after the speech, knowing full well his differences don't make his life any happier or simplier, or better.

Bad feelings = past trauma

Still, all of it pales in comparison to plain old trauma and its prolonged effects. This anon ask and @/heroesbyler's answer have summarized it better than I ever could. Here's a quote that I can't not mention:

His trauma is one of the most if not the most multifaceted in the entire story, and also he literally is the main character foil to the big villain. Saying that Will hates himself for being gay is such a gross oversimplification of what we see. It's haunting to know that people want to project a stereotypical situation to his nuanced one.

Additionally, there were theories that Will is a victim of CSA, and I'm not only referring to the ones about Vecna/MF/UD allegories (these I very much agree with) but those about full-on CSA by Lonnie. While I'm still on the fence about it, I acknowledge this is also a possibility.

To sum up, our boy Will has been through a lot. Emotional baggage? Check. Susceptibility to “monstrous” labels? Check.

Not his fault

Up until this point I was being ambiguous about whether my theory is applicable to S2 only or other seasons as well. I have to admit, right now the werewolf costume guy is no more than a little foreshadowing of the S2 plot. However, given the fact that S5 is promised to take inspiration from S2, some of its key elements or plot points may be reused, albeit probably in a different fashion. Additionally, new information might be revealed, meaning that the metaphore has potential to grow into something bigger in the future.

For now I'll focus on the S2 events mainly and compare them to I Was A Teenage Werewolf.

___

Movie: Tony Rivers embodies a typical delinquent from the 50's. He's a troubled rebellious teenager with anger issues. He exhibits such violent behavior that he's advised to seek psychological help.

IT: Richie doesn't fixate on the anger part and instead uses “bad feelings” wording to convey broader (or perhaps, entirely different) meaning. Ultimately, we're led to believe that it doesn't matter what character traits Tony possessed. What's more important is 1) he had psychological issues; 2) he was advised to seek out professional help.

ST: Will has a lot of unresolved trauma from his experience in the UD, which manifests in “bad feelings”, so-called flashbacks and coughing up demonic slugs. He's advised to undergo medical supervision/scientific surveillance at Hawkins Lab.

___

Movie: Dr. Alfred Brandon embodies the classic mad scientist archetype. He conducts experiments on people by using hypnosis and medication in unconventional ways and claims it's for a greater cause. He draws out Tony's traumatic childhood memories during their sessions. Brandon has an assistant, Dr. Hugo Wagner, who comes across as compassionate and humanistic.

ST: Dr. Martin Brenner is affiliated with multiple scientific projects that conduct experiments on people by using sensory deprivation, psychedelic drugs and various abuse/manipulation tactics. He, too, claims it's for a greater cause. Also works with traumatic childhood memories, e. g. the whole NINA project. If twelvegate is proven true in S5, these parallels will become positively unhinged. Brenner repeatedly works with Dr. Owens, who on the outside seems more sympathetic towards main heroes.

___

Movie: Tony finally accepts Dr. Brandon's help after a Halloween party gone wrong. He decides to trust everyone's opinion, goes through the procedure and ends up becoming “possessed by wolves” (= made into a werewolf).

ST: Will accepts the fact that he's spiraling and needs help on Halloween night. He decides to trust Dr. Owens, Joyce and Bob that his visions are just PTSD-related episodes. He follows Bob's advice and ends up possessed.

Ultimately, this is the moment when Will's trust is broken. Although it's definitely not Bob's or Joyce's fault, a collective authority figure represented by Hawkins Lab fails Will. It fucks him up big. And one can argue, Owens' incapacity to protect him wasn't a simple negligence but an extension of Brenner's politics. @/runninguplenorahills suggests the following:

If Owens knew about Brenner being alive and deliberately kept that information to himself (which he did), and if Owens knew about Henry and everything that happened (which seems to be the case too)……. Well….. doesn't that make Owens' inability to help and protect Will in s2 a deliberate choice?

Regardless, it isn't Will's own doing that turns him into someone dangerous — it's the Lab's fault.

___

Movie: Dr. Brandon and his assistant argue about the necessity of transforming Tony because it might be harmful or even fatal to him.

“But you're sacrificing a human life!” ”Do you cry over a guinea pig?”

ST: Dr. Owens argues with other scientists over attacking the UD vines/tunnels and potentially harming Will in the process.

“And if it kills the boy?” ”Then quite frankly, Sam, it kills him.”

___

Movie: In his werewolf state, Tony kills a bunch of his classmates, a random dog, Dr. Brandon and his assistant.

ST: While being possessed, Will leads the soldiers into a trap and gets them killed because they've upset the MF. Owens ends up injured, and Bob gets killed. We can view them all as Brenner's “assistants” to different extents.

All in all, I'd say the metaphor fits. But wait, there's more!

Hiding stuff

Once again referencing @/pinkeoni's posts, there's a long history of Will hiding his feelings. Fascinating how the conversation that basically establishes this trait of his, aka his exchange with Joyce, happens in S2 and specifically in relation to his not-actually-PTSD episodes. But the motive of hiding, be it in a literal or a figurative sense (as in hiding parts of himself), is integral to Will's character. It is continually present troughout seasons and is supported by in-show elements and costume design choices alike.

Billy Hargrove And Henry Bowers Are Overflowing

Parallels should be drawn between Henry and Billy, too. This section is small, but nonetheless I like it — it's a finishing touch to the story and a cherry to top it all off.

Richie completes his train of thought by contrasting Tony and Henry Bowers, accentuating how the latter “didn't bother hiding” his bad feelings, e. g. his anger, bigotry and violent outbursts. The same could be said about Billy. Both of them killed people under the influence (Flayed!Billy, Pennywise-inspired!Henry) and definitely were capable of assault regardless. For both of them a relationship with one's father seems to be an instigation of their descent into madness, although Billy hates Neil, whereas Henry appears to have a more complex, effectively love-hate attitude towards Oscar.

It's also noteable that Billy is a foil character to Will, who is mirroring him in many ways, while Henry and Patrick may be seen as foils to Richie and Eddie when it comes to handling “their same-sex attraction”. And by the way, if sexuaility and attraction is consired “bad feelings” within Will's mind, one particular part of this post becomes all the more relevant. To quote and paraphrase, “Billy wears his sexuality proud and openly”, yet Will's sexuality is suppressed — another case of hiding versus overflowing.

I'd love to TL;DR this post into something concise and coherent, but I fear I'd just end up repeating my points and wording. I'd rather say I have more thoughts on Richie and Will's similarities, so there's gonna be a short post about it sometime down the line. Thank you to anyone who decided that this was worth reading!

#tw csa mention #will byers #richie tozier #stranger things analysis #st analysis #my analysis #this is not gonna get noticed but whatever #i'm doing it for the sake of doing it

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blackjackkent · 4 months ago

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Prompt fill for @theajaheira from this ask meme: Lord Huron Lyric Prompts

Jaheira - "do you know what loneliness does to a man"

As I'm doing more often these days - didn't use the exact quote but let it inspire me and then modified a little to fit the story. Set about ten years pre-BG3. Caden is my Bhaalspawn PC from BG1/BG2. Hope you enjoy! c:

-----

Caden’s eyes drift half-open drowsily and he stares up at the ceiling of the guest room of Elerrathin’s Home. At first he’s not sure what woke him - perhaps one of Jaheira’s small horde of adopted children causing chaos downstairs - but then he hears it. A muted, rhythmic, slightly atonal whistling coming from the roof.

“D’you hear that?” he mumbles. Aerie, still sleeping peacefully at his side, doesn’t answer. After a moment’s hesitation, he gives in to his curiosity and slides carefully out from under the blanket so as not to wake his wife.

It’s a little hard to find the route upwards, presumably so the children don’t make use of it - a ladder carefully inset into the climbing vines along the upper floor’s rear balcony. (Plants among more plants - the balcony is strewn with pots of flowering buds, jars of dirt waiting for use, long planters with the stems of autumn vegetables just starting to poke into view. Like so much of Jaheira's house, it is a sanctuary of green amidst the dusty brown of the city streets.) Caden carefully avoids damaging any of the vines as he clambers up the ladder; his shoulder twinges with the unexpected exertion and he grunts. Gods, getting old, aren't you, boy?

Emerging onto the gentle slope of the roof, he blinks, for a moment dazzled by the brilliant orange of the sunrise against which the endless buildings of the Lower City are silhouetted. The fall air is crisp and cold and raises goosebumps on his skin as he steps out of the cozy warmth of the house below.

Jaheira sits with her back to him on the edge of the rooftop, looking out to the west away from the sunrise and towards the grey sheet of the harbor not yet touched by the daylight. Her head is ducked slightly, and it takes him a moment to realize that the strange sounds are coming from her - she’s playing, very unsteadily, a simple tune on a small and very battered tin whistle.

He moves softly, but she hears him anyway, and her head snaps up, turning to glance over her shoulder. She fists one hand tightly around the whistle, dropping it into her lap as if to hide it. “Ah. You’re awake, my friend,” she says.

He smiles. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. I just came up to listen.”

She snorts softly. “We have known each other long enough that there is no need for flattery, Caden.”

“I didn’t say I was listening because it was good.” He sticks his tongue out at her.

This elicits a soft laugh, and her shoulders relax slightly. “No, I should think not. I cannot quite get the touch for it, despite my efforts.” She lifts the whistle again and turns it slowly in her fingertips, watching as it catches a muted reflection of the slow-rising sunlight. “I do believe it is mocking me.”

He grins, moving to sit beside her so his legs dangle off the roof edge. “I’m sure someone in the city could teach you.”

“For coin and time - neither of which I have to spend on such frivolity,” she says wryly.

He raises an eyebrow. “Ah, right, you’re the High Harper now. No more fun and games, hm?”

“Just so.”

“There are those who would say we, of all people in the world, have earned a little frivolity,” he points out.

There’s a dash of humor in his voice, though, because he already knows the answer she will give him even before she speaks the words. So he’s not surprised when she shakes her head. “There is always yet more work to be done,” she murmurs. “For the city. For my children. Perhaps for the world, if it should have need of me again.”

Caden juts his lower lip out stubbornly. “If the world should have need of me again, someone can bloody well tell it that I'm not available for hire. And nor is Aerie. We've given enough.”

“You and Aerie have many happy years yet ahead; I would not take that from you,” Jaheira says quietly.

A pause, and then she laughs again, but this time it is a somewhat darker sound, sardonic, self-deprecating.“But… ah, well. You see that this is what loneliness will do to a woman.” She gestures vaguely with the whistle. “She takes to brooding on rooftops and plotting self-sacrifice, and tormenting the local cat population with the squeaks of a whistle.”

Caden frowns. “Is that what you are?” he asks. “Lonely?”

Her head jerks, her gaze flicking away out across the buildings around them. Then she smiles, and suddenly the moment passes, the tension in her face loosening. “We may call that a slip of the tongue,” she says mildly. “What time do I have to be alone, with that crop of rascals running about downstairs? Not to mention the Harpers under my command - who seem younger every year. And you, just now, as my guest.” She shakes her head. “No - I am not alone, and for that I am grateful.”

“Alone and lonely are not the same thing,” he says gently.

Again that flicker of a shadow crosses her face. “Do not press me on this, cub,” she says. “A slip of the tongue, no more.”

“Cub. You’re not really so much older than I am, you know,” he says dryly.

“Nonsense.” Her expression softens as she glances at him affectionately, and then she grins. “You were the first wayward child I ever raised, long before Rion.”

“I was twenty!” He laughs, nudging her gently in the shoulder. “But believe whatever you want.”

She smiles. Whatever dark thoughts led her to the rooftop seem to have passed, or at least burrowed themselves into better hiding; she tucks the whistle casually into a pocket and pushes herself to her feet. “Come. I will leave aside this travesty against melody, and let us go down to breakfast.”

#ask meme #theajaheira #jaheira #bg3 jaheira #jaheira bg3 #caden of candlekeep #bg3 fic #bg3 fanfiction #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 drabble #thank you for the prompt! c: hope you enjoy #made myself a little sad with this one; this is definitely a period where jaheira needs a lot of hugs #(and being her she doesn't ask for them XD )

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delicatebluebirdruins · 2 months ago

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the hollow boy reread

27th October 2024

3 is it really the first time though?

7 "I also carried a skull in a jar, so we weren't entirely predictable"

28th Jan 2024

12 dusty ketchup bottle ick

14 It's almost the same thing that happened at Combe Carey

16 I love this introduction of Lucy that I have in my screenshots

19 it must be bad

27 whoo cluster

32 "I'm nervous, and I'm already dead"

34 Lockwood noticing something is wrong with Lucy

39 the necklace

43 "In those days"

44 "We were never good. We were the best. And we never fully realised it until it was too late"

49 Curious George

51 Black Winter is such a fun time

53 Lockwood's faith in Lucy ("expressive lips" why are you focusing on his lips bub?)

56 terrotorial Lucy and George at the idea of a new housemate "Lockwood's proximity made me happy" you don't say? Loyal George

61 homemaker Lucy is not

63 Lucy's raw nerve

64 JAKE!

69 "ancient history"...

71 emotional constipation my name is Lockwood

73 the lavender being a welcome and a caution 🥹🥹🥹

74 Lucy wanting Lockwood to talk to her

76 love this glimpse into the agency colours

85 a big old crush

91 exhaustion leads to sloppiness

96 testing Lucy's talents are great

100 Rotwell's game that is basically surgery

102 Lucy's feelings about her family being impatient and cross, wanting to scream, resigned and thinking they're scared

106 their reaction to seeing Lucy already talked about here

112 how close were they?

122 Holly is very aggravating not through any actions of her own she is hired to do a job and she will be damned if she doesn't do it well

125 Jealousy and Carrot Cake feat. Customer Service Lockwood

29th October 129 I love Holly cutting off Mrs Wintergarden

133 "think nine or ten" that is just a baby

135 Lockwood POV pretty please

136 I love the lyre brooch (I cannot stress enough I love jewellry)

138 assumptions make an ass out of you

140 Berkley Square? what happpened? It's one of Lucy's favourite cases and that's all we get?

142 wondered about here but I really want to know what Lucy was going to say

146 talking about being normal kids Poor Little Tom

155 Lucy do as you're told

159 why the FUCK have you two noticed her footsize?

160 Lucy feeling empathy for the wrong ghost

164 I would rather die then be anywhere near this conversation

168 Poor Kipps and crew

171 You tell them George like the quote about history

174 Lucy you are a prat

176 I know I yelled about this the last time I watched this book but "still smells of him" is an insane comment

182 Lockwood keeping an eye on Holly and Lucy being "hot-eyed"

186 the circle of bloody footprints is so creepy

191 mimicking the breathing is still very creepy and self endangerment ding! ding!

193 impossible leap and I still want Lockwood's POV

200 Solitary on Lambeth walk

203 Lockwood's head in Georges lap (did he want Lucy? Yes or Holly? no)

205 Holly was reorganisation also harrasment?

208 the Skull has a point your know?

218 So many ghosts

221 George is right about not bottling things up Lucy

222 Hampton Wick Hotel cluster?

224 Complimenting Flo "unwashed queen" dismissal's really Lucy?

227 "old mother Thames"

230 Lucy and Lockwood barely seeing each other as Lockwood is isolating himself (Lucy seeing Lockwood's injury as a sign of her failure)

233 Marissa sucks by the way 234 "safely" sure

237 George to the rescue

243 "Pale faces stared up at us from beyond the smoke" a hint of bad things to come

253 Lucy and Lockwood being so in sync and her "swell of joy" despite the exertion they are doing

256 "smiling of crocodiles" Lucy, Lockwood and Sir Rupert after the chase and his underhanded moment with his sword

259 album? I want to see that

263 Lucy is a star well done Lockwood but meeting her eyes and then complimenting Holly like he did is so mean (Holly did deserve praise but it's so mean)

266 Baby Lockwood pictures

268 maybe Holly maybe most likely you

276 Honey-biscuits? nice

283 history of the location

287 "Barnes won't let us down" and let down we are

291 Lucy going against Lockwood here and arguing that joining forces with Kipps' crew is a good idea (and I so want Lockwood's pov for this)

295 Lucy wishing for Holly to fall into the catacombs is karma at work really

296 "our assistant seemed to affect girls that way." does she? or is just you and Kat?

30th October 2024

299 Flo possibly flushing when shaking hands with Holly is great (Bi? Bi)

303 out of touch CEO? ding! ding!

310 "Some people might be tempted" you opened yourself up for that Lucy

312 Lucy and Holly "a token smile"

317 "attract attention of all dark things"... "one of them is hunting you"

319 longing for and missing Lockwood

322 Love this hate this "a human figure crawling on all fours"

327 Poor Kate

330 Lockwood knowing how strong Lucy is but still not seeing how vulnerable she is (his faith in her working against them both)

334 what in the ghost ship nonsense is this?... you were very lucky Bobert

339 All because Holly mentioned Lockwood and Lucy not saying no to him and just Lucy seeing Holly's "superiority" over her and it just all coming to a head in the worst time possible (how much of their relationship would have been changed if Lucy was there and involved in the hiring and interview part)

342 Skull? Bobby? shut up

351 I love the imagery of a snake and i hate it as well

359 Lockwood "grinning that old grin"... "his eyes sparkled; he held out his hand..."

367 I love Lucy going on the bright side i'm closer to the Source but is also understandably very woozy and saying hi to skeletons

370 "They were criminals and they were infected. Who was going to care?"

375 "I gave a cry, bent down to retrieve them - and saw the ghosts come sweeping in towards me. That was the moment the nub of the candle chose to finally go out"

377 are the other ghosts scared of the Fetch???

379 "and all at once my legs buckled with joy. Because I knew it! I knew the voice. It was the one I wanted to hear more than any other"

389 "I didn't trust myself to be with you. I was too anxious about what might happen" meaning? double meaning

390 "I know I don't talk about it, but it's happened to me before. Losing someone dear to me. I can't let it happen again" also who is the biscuit thief?

392 Poor Lockwood "lazy and wilful"... "his carefully neutral tone wavered"... "Under the anger and the sorrow, Lucy I was just left feeling hollow." hey Lockwood is/was a hollow boy. So we have Lockwood blaming himself for Jessica's death AND the newspaper article going "unable to save her" get the boy some therapy (there are two sets of people to blame for Jessica's death the Orpheus Society and whoever made the pot crack in the first place)

also Lockwood compared Lucy to his sister he never said anything about considering Lucy like a sister (@the empty grave wiki page comments section)

399 Poor Barnes where will he get his socks now?

402 Flo and George are also a battle couple in their own right'

406 I love the newspaper article (I want to see the foldable model) like the amount of customer service bullshit coming from both Kipps and Lockwood must have made an ass jealous (also did Lockwood & Co. use the Aickmere Brothers £10 voucher? discuss I say yes because I think it would be funny)

409 Barnes my love is back in my good books, Kipps my love also hilarious

413 so close to meeting the living bad guys of the series

415 George talking about how ghosts experience time like the rest as they say is confetti

417 I love the Skull

419 what are you doing with your glasses Georgie?... I wonder what Lockwood was thinking when he asked "is that really what this is all about?" and I wonder if anyone entertained the idea that the Fetch Lucy saw was Lockwood?

#lockwood and co #george cubbins #anthony lockwood #lucy carlyle #the hollow boy reread #lockwood library #please talk to me about things especially page 406

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joes-sha-la-la-la-girl · 1 year ago

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Love Bites: Chapter 3

Series Masterlist

After they left, Tammy let out a loud sigh, earning everyone’s attention.

“What?” Joe asked her as she kept her eyes on the exit where Y/N and Doug had just gone through.

Tammy didn’t answer to start with, prompting Johnny to jump in. “He’s always like this with Y/N. He doesn’t like her going anywhere without him.”

“Bloody hell.” Phil murmured under his breath as the rest of Def Leppard looked at them in shock.

“He’s also not exactly happy about Y/N working with you. Or us going on tour with you.” Tammy eventually spoke up.

“Why not. Surely if he is her boyfriend he wants what's best for her?” Sav asked.

“Well, you’d think, wouldn't you?” Benji muttered as he stared at his drink. He wasn’t a man of many words but when it came to his friends he would defend them to the end of the earth.

“So what’s his problem then?” Steve asked.

“Well, since Ultraviolet started receiving more attention he has been clinging to Y/N as if she is just gonna disappear. He hates the idea of her not spending time with him.” Tammy told them.

The conversation died down after that. Small chatter on plans for the upcoming tour took over but for Joe, the idea that Y/N was with someone who was controlling over her, wouldn’t leave his mind.

“I know what you’re thinking.” Sav told Joe the minute they entered the small house that they were renting whilst they were in London.

“Oh yeah. And what’s that?” Joe asked him as he looked his best friend in the eye.

Their conversation had attracted their bandmates' attention.

“You can’t go after her, Joe. No matter how bad her boyfriend is for her.”

“I wasn’t going to.” Joe told him, though the thought had crossed his mind more than once since he had met Doug.

“He’s right Joe, no matter how much of an arse he might seem.” Phil chimed in as he looked at the lead singer.

“I won’t do anything okay?” Joe looked around him before heading off to bed.

Sav watched his friend go before he sat on the sofa and looked at his bandmates.

“You know that this Doug isn’t good for her.” Rick pointed out as he sat next to Sav.

“I know but he can’t do or say anything. No matter what. We don’t know her well enough to get involved.” Sav responded.

“I just hope she knows that she deserves better.” Steve spoke sitting next to his terror twin. Despite the two not knowing each other for long, the guitarists had clicked the moment they were in the studio together, causing mayhem from the get-go.

“Did you have to cause such a scene?” Y/N asked Doug as they shut the front door to their flat.

“Me ‘cause a scene?” Doug asked her with rage brewing behind his eyes. “I only asked a question about your jobs.”

“You asked stupid questions about our jobs. You know why music videos have to be filmed so close together.” Y/N told him, an angry tone in her voice but she refused to raise it at him.

“You’re always pestering me to take more interest and then you get pissed when I do.”

“I shouldn't have to ‘pester’ you.” Y/N used finger air-quotes around the word pester. “You should just take an interest in what I love to do.”

“How can I when I don’t understand it? You are obsessed with the idea of running off around the world with a group of people I don’t know. You’d rather do this than get a real job to help me pay the bills.” Doug yelled at her.

“Wow. Look, I don't spend the money I do earn on myself. Everything I do earn goes into this place. It’s not frequent, which is why I save it and use it over time.” Y/N told him.

“All I’m saying is that if you have a real job then we wouldn’t be struggling for money this much.”

“How do you know that? Many people work ‘real’ jobs.” She used the air-quotes again. “And they still struggle to pay rent. I am working hard to build a career for myself that I love rather than working a dead-end nine-to-five job that I will be unhappy in for the rest of my life.”

“You think I love my job Y/N? I had dreams and aspirations too, the difference is, I am grown up enough to realise that dreams don’t come true.”

“Fuck you Doug. You don’t have to understand. You just have to support me. Not try to embarrass me infront of a band that I am about to tour with. A band that I am filming their music videos with. If dreams don’t come true then how come I am living mine?”

“That’s what this is about? You are embarrassed of me infront of all these men that you get to work with now?”

“That’s not what this is about. This is not about you. Def Leppard have invited me and the others to play with them in America. They have given me a chance to get my face out there. They are a big deal in America and I don’t want to screw up the chance that my band could be too.” Y/N took a deep breath as she looked at her boyfriend. The love that she had once felt for that man was long gone. “I’m going to bed.” She announced.

“We’re not done here Y/N.” Doug shouted after her but she ignored him.

This argument was one of many that they had. To start with Y/N had tried to explain to him about why this was all so important to her, but overtime she had enough of his selective hearing. She knew that she didn’t love him anymore but she didn’t know how to leave. She couldn’t face her bandmates who had warned her about him in the first place and she had no family around her anymore to help her out. She couldn’t afford to live on her own and she had been with Doug since she moved to London four years ago.

Y/n got herself ready for bed before she settled under the covers. She wasn’t sure if Doug would join her or sleep on the couch after their argument. She quietly hoped it was the latter but she knew in her heart he would probably come to bed eventually.

She was right. Within the next few hours, Doug had joined her in bed, smelling like alcohol. He didn’t try to cuddle her, he just collapsed on the bed and started snoring. Y/N laid awake for hours, for the first time since they left the pub, she let her mind wander to the green-eyed lead singer. How he was looking at her and how his face fell when he saw Doug walk up to her.

She couldn’t help the small smile that came across her face as she realised that maybe he was attracted to her too. She knew nothing could ever come of it but a selfish part of her dwelled on the thought that one day they potentially could be together, no matter how unrealistic it was.

#joe elliott x reader #joe elliott #def leppard #ellen's fic #love bites chapter 3 #love bites fic

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catholic-character-tournament · 1 year ago

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Finals - Resurrect Bracket (Losers Bracket)

ashes to ashes, dust to dust; in sure and certain hope of the Resurrection to [make it to the finals]

Propaganda below ⬇️

Gabriel

Well he's an angel so I'm taking him being catholic as canon. There are a lot of themes in the game that point to catholisism specifically.

He's so fucking funny. he listens to nine inch nails and quotes one of the songs in a fight basically "fight me like an animal". he and v1 kind of have this yuri thing going on. he has an official bodypillow. hes a metaphor for being excommunicated and no one gets him like me and my friends do

The *true* Catholic experience is leaving the church and having a gay awakening, ask anyone

its debatable if Gabriel truly believes he's "the one true savior" or is mocking the idea of it

ok im actually gonna write some gabe propaganda bc despite what you may expect from a game called ULTRAKILL theres a lot to be said about his character and how catholicism is represented

Gabriel is a genuinely caring person who struggles to square his desire to help people with his duty as an archangel. He's the only one in Heaven trying to make things better for those in Hell, but his faith is used to manipulate him into committing atrocities against the people he used to protect (see the "TRAITOR" mural in 4-2)

he only realizes his mistakes after losing everything and being sentenced to death, but he still decides with only a little time remaining to try and make things right. for the sake of spoilers i will just say that the measures he takes are... extremely drastic and very enjoyable. i just really like the idea that even facing the end of all living things, no matter how steep your crimes, it is never too late to fix your mistakes. you are never unworthy forgiveness.

hes also SO FUCKING GAY for this dumb little robot. it mauled him so hard he tasted his own blood and he fell in love right there. theres no way this guy has a normal healthy relationship to pain he is soooooooooo fucked. i love him. please vote for Gabriel "patron saint of gay lapsed catholics" Ultrakill !!!!!!!!

Doomguy

PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD PUT DOOMSLAYER IN HERE

In the books he’s canonically Catholic. Haven’t played enough of the games to know but I think they keep it vague in the games. The books are pretty divergent from the games in some ways though so idk

Literally insane. Kills demons because of murder of pet rabbit. Traps himself in hell to give demons more whoopass.

In addition to being Catholic, Doomguy is canonically celibate, meaning he is, in fact, eligible to become the Pope. He’s also very proficient in exorcisms, if “blasting demons into a bloody mess with a shotgun” counts as an exorcism.

Literally kills demons & his universe’s equivalent of Satan

HE GOES TO HELL like 5 times to fight demons and protect earth. He’s also canonically celibate.

#gabriel ultrakill #ultrakill #cct polls #tumblr tournament #tumblr bracket #tumblr polls #polls #r4losers #doom #doomguy

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human-adjacent · 2 years ago

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episode 101 - another twist

- fair warning this is my favorite episode and also my least favorite episode and i am not okay. this post is mostly for myself

- intentionally listened to this on april fools day so i could pretend that michaels death was just a silly little prank

- i love all of nikolas lines she’s so cute. her little “hellooooo!!” to elias in the beginning, the way she keeps going “can i call u elias?” and says that she’s his good friend, her constantly insulting jon and saying that he’s rude and that he has bad skin, “ah, it’s downright uncanny!” “out with the old, in with… well, in with the you!” she’s such a good character

- MICHAEL☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️ i love him sm and all of his lines are also so good. even tho the main reason i liked him initially was because of his voice he’s also just so fascinating and his, as jon would call it, “identity issues” are so interesting. i love how even after all this time and all that the distortion has done there still is some humanity left inside of it, some semblance of the original michael shelley still fighting to exist. i know he’s here to literally murder jon but the fact that michael willingly gave jon a statement despite it going against his nature and entire existence really just shows that he is not a complete monster. the distortion desires to kill but as a past institute employee michael understands jon’s desire for knowledge, and even though he wants to take his revenge on the archives, i also think he has some empathy for jon. michael was killed because of his own ignorance and naivety, and i think he can see himself in jon, who’s also suffering because of his own ignorance, being pushed around and manipulated by his boss just like michael was. the distortion wants to kill, but no matter how angry or upset he is, michael shelley does not, and unfortunately for jon the distortion is just the more powerful force in this conflict

- i have nooo idea what i just typed sorry i didn’t mean to ramble but michael makes me very insane. dont u dare reblog and try to disagree with me bc that was not a coherent thought to provoke discussion that was just me grieving

- en e way here’s a list of quotes from this episode that i just really enjoy (woah i just figured out how to make a bulleted list that’s crazy)

“The Eye watches, and the Stranger conceals, but me… I lie, Archivist.”

“I am the throat of delusion incarnate.”

“Being Michael stole the only purpose I have ever known.”

“The cramped casket sings loud, but not loud enough to drown out screaming.” (the cramped casket is a beautiful way to describe a coffin)

“How do you define the start of your being when in some ways you have always been?”

“the Magnus Institute – that ivory tower, keeping its prisoners ignorant in pursuit of… knowledge. [Giggles] A dungeon full of idiot watchers.” (giggles🤭)

“Am I evil, Archivist? Is a thing evil when it simply obeys its own nature?”

“The mind does not shatter, Archivist. It is soft and malleable. It bends and twists and returns to what it was, though what you see and feel may leave their mark upon it.”

“I cannot tell you the existential joys of truly… becoming. Of an entireness finally crossing the threshold into your self.”

“Even sharper than the joy of becoming is the agony of being opened and remade. To have your who torn bloody from your what, and another crudely lashed into its place.”

“My very existence tied to my pointlessness. Wearing my failure as the very fabric of my being.”

“He got… distracted. Let feelings that shouldn’t have been his overwhelm me.” ☹️

- ok i held a grudge against helen last time for killing michael but i will admit i think she’s cool😔 also i would’ve loved to see michael distortion in the early days of his uh transformation because i would assume he also felt lost and confused like helen did and i’m curious what he would’ve done

- don’t talk to me for at least 3-5 business days i need to mentally recover

#tma relisten #at least i have the gerry episode to look forward to #tma #the magnus archives #nikola orsinov #michael shelley #michael distortion #jonathan sims #helen distortion

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animebw · 2 years ago

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Short Reflection: My Hero Academia Season 6

I try not to be too smug when talking about anime. Discussing media always works best when you keep an open mind to all perspectives, so if someone has an opinion I disagree with, I do my best to disagree politely and present my side of the argument fairly. I’m not always successful, but I always make the attempt. Today, though? I feel justified in being a bit of a smarmy jackass. So allow me to present a couple of quotes from my review of My Hero Academia’s fifth season, back when everyone was calling it the worst show in the world because it made a couple arcs 50% less bloody.

“All this is to say, don’t be surprised when My Hero Academia once again becomes the most beloved shonen on the planet heading into its final stretch. Because this show has far from run its course yet.”

“Season 5 may be a low point in its history, but the fact that its low point is still so damn high is a testament to why this show deserved to conquer the world in the first place. My Hero Academia is still good, and I’ll be happy to say “I told you so” when the final seasons blow everyone’s socks off and make them fall in love with it all over again.”

Ladies, gentlemen, and everyone in between, allow me to state, on record, that I fucking called it.

God, do you know how long I’ve been waiting to get that off my chest? I’ve suffered through years of mediocre actioners being worshipped as the new best thing ever, watched as bottom-of-the-barrel crap like Tokyo Revengers and Fire Force tricked everyone into liking them, listened to a flighty, tasteless fandom turn their backs on one of the modern era’s greatest shonen because their lizard brains couldn’t concentrate without a thousand particle effects popping off every second. But no more. No more do I have to carry the torch solo as I have for far too long. Because at long last, after two subpar seasons that still blow most of its contemporaries out of the water, the second anime I ever watched has clawed its way back to the front of the pack and forced everyone to remember why My Hero Academia remains one of anime’s greatest modern standard bearers. The king is back on top, and I look forward to apologies from everyone who ever doubted it deserved the crown.

Okay, maybe that’s a little harsh. It’s not like My Hero Academia has ever been a perfect show, despite its self-evident excellence. Even in this fantastic return to form, plenty of its old issues still carry over. There’s the stupid unnecessary title cards all the characters get every episode, like the show thinks we’re so stupid we’ll forget everyone’s name in the week’s time between episodes. There’s the comedy that never quite clicks as well as it needs to, often disrupting otherwise fantastic scenes. The cast has grown overstuffed enough to officially qualify as a problem, with some characters frustratingly underutilized and some given way too much attention (seriously, who thought Best Jeanist was interesting enough to take over the tertiary protagonist role this season?). And it has a bad habit of stopping at huge moments and pausing the action for unnecessary flashbacks that we didn’t need to understand how the characters got where they were. If you’re the kind of shonen-head who just wants to turn your brain off and enjoy a bunch of flashy fights, it’s no wonder you’d be seduced by the sakuga-laden likes of Demon Slayer and JJK, despite their far more glaring issues in the story department.

But if you’re someone who actually appreciates a good story as a backbone to all those fisticuffs? Then you already know why MHA stands head and shoulders above its competition. And after five seasons watching this pressure cooker of a society boil hotter and hotter, it’s finally time for the lid to pop.

Season 6 is an explosion, plain and simple. It’s over a hundred episodes of peeling back the layers of hero society finally coming to a head and bringing the whole damn house of cards crashing down. The season’s first half is entirely taken up by a massive heroes vs villains war, a war in which everyone is pushed past their breaking point and forced to make climactic decisions about who they are and who they want to be. Characters die, self-actualize, rise to their ideas and shatter beneath them, on all sides of the conflict and sometimes all at the same time. If the All Might vs All For One battle back in season 3 was the end of My Hero Academia’s first act, then this barn-burner brawl is the climax to its second act. It’s the destruction of the status quo, an inflection point for all its characters, and as definitive a no-going-back mic drop as you can imagine. This is the end of the world as we know it, all the mistakes and hypocrisies of heroes past finally coming home to roost as Shigaraki puts his master plan into motion and the foundations of the earth itself tremble in response.

And once the rubble has finally settled, the season’s second half turns to tackle the aftermath. What happens when the world falls apart? What happens when everything people believed in turns out to be a lie? The heroes they put their trust in failed to protect them, and many revealed themselves to be little better than the villains they were supposed to be fighting. Fear and hatred compound, safety nets fails one after the other, and this society that once seemed so perfect reveals itself for the sham it always was. And Deku and his friends are caught right in the middle of the chaos, thrust far too soon into the role of the world’s hope for the future. They always wanted to be heroes: now, it’s time for them to come to terms with what that really means.

There’s a level of moral complexity to these developments that I don’t think any of us could have predicted. My Hero Academia started out as one of the most outwardly inspirational, optimistic stories on the market, but it’s proven itself more than capable of deconstructing its own premise. Heroism in MHA isn’t a static state of affairs; it’s a question that must be asked, re-asked, and asked again through the contradictions and imperfections of the real world. What does it mean to protect? To save? Where does the responsibility lie when we fall short? Is it ever too late to fix your mistakes and start over again? A lesser show might shy away from those questions, but MHA relishes in teasing out their intricacies. And it makes this season- especially the second half- some of the most captivating drama we’ve ever gotten from this genre. Watching the world come undone, and watching the heroes struggle to face the new task before them, results in not just some of MHA’s best moments, but some of the most hard-hitting resolutions in all of shonen history. The Deku/Shigaraki parallels! The return of You Say Run! Uraraka’s climactic speech re-cementing her as one of the all-time great shonen love interests! Payoff for not one, but two of the best goddamn redemption arcs this side of Zuko (and with Shigaraki, that number may climb to 3...)! Twice! Hawks! Lady Nagant! Season 6 is a portrait of a world falling apart, but it’s also a portrait of what rises from the ashes it left behind. As Deku himself says at one point, the world is far more complex than simple black and white, but that only makes it even more important to stand up for what really matters when the chips are down.

I’ve been watching My Hero Academia for a while. I started it back when there were just two seasons out and everyone was still riding high on the hype train. I’ve experienced its highs, its lows, its brilliance and its stupidity (Mineta has done nothing pervy this season and I am SO HAPPY YOU GUYS). I’ve been with this show for a long ass time. But no matter how its perception has shifted over the years, no matter how much anime I’ve consumed since then, I keep returning to the simple fact that MHA is really goddamn good. I don’t just like it because it was one of my firsts, or because of sunk cost fallacy, or anything like that; this genuinely is one of the smartest, richest, most emotionally resonant works of shonen storytelling to ever appear in Jump’s pages. And watching so many of its threads come to a head in season 6 has only confirmed that it’s going to stand the test of time. I can’t count how many episodes left me weepy, how often I was left astonished at the courage and intelligence of Horikoshi’s writing. This isn’t one of those stories that squanders its potential along the way and leaves you indifferent by the end: this is a story that’s going to fulfil every last promise it made, pay off every last idea it set up, and bring it all together in a complete package that makes the entire show better in hindsight.

Because even in its slowest moments, this show was so much more than a mindless punch-em-up. This is a story all about the nature of heroism itself, and what it truly means to be a hero in a seemingly perfect world that actually has more cracks in its foundation than a log cabin built atop the San Andreas fault. This is a story about what happens when golden ideals run up against reality, how good intentions go awry and send an entire society down a path to ruin. This is a story about what drives villains to be villains in the first place, and why they deserve our understanding even in spite of their crimes. And it’s a story about how to rediscover and reforge hope, learning all over again what it means to make the world a better place. Unlike so many of its contemporaries, My Hero Academia actually has things to say about our modern world, ideas it wants to convey that run deeper than “just believe in yourself!” Demon Slayer can lavish as many pretty lights and spinning cameras as it wants atop its cardboard world and stick figure characters, but that momentary flash is nothing compared to this slow-burning tale of what it takes to rediscover heroism in a world that’s forgotten its true form.

Season 6 of My Hero Academia is phenomenal. It’s a lightning-bolt payoff to a story years in the making, sending it hurtling into its final act in as staggeringly brilliant fashion as I ever could have dreamed. It’s not just a new high water mark for this show, finally surpassing the bar set by season 3; it’s cemented this show’s status as one of anime’s all-time classics. When we look back on this period, it won’t be the vapid flashiness of Demon Slayer or the agonizing stupidity of Tokyo Revengers that stand the test of time. It’ll be the story of how a crybaby with green hair became the greatest hero... and how the entire world became the greatest hero right alongside him. And for that, I’m more than happy to give it a score of:

9.5/10

We’re almost at the end now. Bring it home, Horikoshi. I believe in you.

#anime #the anime binge-watcher #tabw #my hero academia #mha #boku no hero academia #bnha #mha sr

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donotmindme1 · 1 year ago

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My idea for a potential DEATH BATTLE! #1

August 16, 2023

Azula vs. Cinder Fall (Avatar vs. RWBY)

Avatar's sadistic princess confronts RWBY's Fall Maiden in this cruel flame fight!

Azula: Avatar's power-hungry prodigious Princess of the Fire Nation.

Cinder Fall: RWBY's scorching Fall Maiden.

Wiz: Fire is the element of power and passion, caressing us with warmth and light...

Boomstick: ..but these psychotic ladies have burned so much and yet can't satisfy their thirst for might. He's Wiz and I'm Boomstick.

Wiz: And it's our job to analyze their weapons, armor, and skills to find out who would win... a Death Battle.

PREFACE:

I get that Cinder isn't popular but please don't give me heat. If this is already a popular matchup, please don't gut me, I came up with this MU the same day the day before Stitch vs Rocket Raccoon was released. I don't follow the VS. community outside of DB! I did this because I had an idea, I thought others should hear it, and I thought it would be novel since Avatar is one of, if not the biggest, pieces of animation to influence RWBY.

My format: I'll explain why I want this battle to happen as well as the possible connections, the art style, and how the battle could go down. Since I don't do VS. stuff, I won't give calcs.

WHY:

Connections: megalomaniacal prokinetics. One is born into royalty and power, a princess to a lord, and set to inherit the throne. She is a prodigy, a strategist, and a careful planner. However, she is an excellent manipulator, sadistic and cruel. The other was born a street rat that was abused and had to claw her way to power, eventually selling part of her humanity. She is impulsive despite initially giving the impression of being a femme fatale mastermind. She loses battle after battle, starting conflicts in the name of her thirst for power and might until she is put in her place by her associate. Both eventually suffer a major loss (Azula on the day of Sozin's Comet and Cinder to Ruby during the Fall of Beacon) that exemplify the downfall of their characters. Both are traumatized due to family (Azula being traumatized because she thought her mother didn't love her and her father's expectations and Cinder because of Madame and her daughters abusing her and Rhodes being willing to fight her). Both contributed to the downfall of meaningful landmarks (the Earth Kingdom coup and the Fall of Beacon) after infiltrating the locations with disguises (Cinder as a Kyoshi Warrior and Cinder as a Haven Academy student). They have connections to speeches of power, which I will elaborate on with my...

Personal reasons:

I admit that I want these two to get their teeth kicked in, but there is a bigger reason why I am "pitching" this MU: the character interactions. Recall this quote from Azula: "You were born with nothing, so you've had to struggle, and connive, and claw your way to power. But true power, the divine right to rule, is something you're born with. The fact is, they don't know which one of us is going to be sitting on that throne, and which one is going to be bowing down." Then, there's Arthur Watts's famous monologue to Cinder: "Oh, of course you are! Because that's just what you do, isn't it? And how has that worked out for you? You stormed into Fria's room, thinking you can take on Ironwood's top fighter and war machine. But you couldn't. And that machine became the Winter Maiden. Oh, and let's not forget your deal with Raven Branwen. Get all your enemies in one place so you'd have a shot at revenge. If only someone could have warned you against such a miserable idea. Oh wait, I did! But you pushed ahead and you lost it, when all you had to do was your job! You think you're entitled to everything just because you've suffered, but suffering isn't enough! You can't just be strong, you have to be smart! You can't just be deserving, you have to be worthy! But all you have ever been, is a bloody migraine!" which leads to Cinder crying. THIS is the big reason why I want these 2 to fight. Azula is a good reader of people, so she'll have no problem dissecting Cinder's megalomania, and imagine Cinder's reaction when she is exposed by Azula. Cinder struts around like a big shot, but Watts revealed that she is not only not what she thinks she is, but idiotic and entitled, undeserving of her power, so being toyed by Azula could lead to a meltdown. Regarding their abilities, Azula's blue flames and lightning would be a great contrast to Cinder's red and orange flames and glass manipulation. There's the possibility of a close-quarters fight due to Azula's martial arts training and Cinder's blade training. There's also the possibility of aerial combat due to Cinder's flaming flight.

THE FIGHT ITSELF:

Art and animation:

The dream is that it'll be a hand-drawn fight, but it'll realistically be a sprite battle (all Avatar fights have been w/ sprites) or 3D (all RWBY battles have been in 3D). Going with the infamy of both characters (at least Cinder's), I don't think they'll pour a lot of resources into the project, so I'm guessing sprites. Sozin's Comet will NOT be a factor in this fight.

Possible setup:

(Think Ganondorf vs Dracula) Cinder, being the power-hungry hothead that she is, storms into the throne room with a flare. Azula is unphased, lounging on her throne casually like in the Day of Black Sun, though she was not expecting a challenger. However, she sees something in the one-eyed woman. Azula smirks; she knows what kind of person is confronting her, and she's ready to have fun. It's almost as if Long Feng was an insecure firebender.

"I'm here to claim what is mine." (Like in volume 8's "Take what is mine.")

They banter, Azula being the narcissist that she is, provokes Cinder into attacking her. Azula catches the attack, and Cinder starts to lose her cool.

FIGHT!

So, they fight. Notable highlights:

1. There's fire everywhere, but Azula notices that her opponent isn't a good martial artist after a close spar, but she is proficient with blades, and they're made of glass, too. She's never seen this kind of firebending.

2. Trying to keep her distance, Cinder launches fireballs, summons explosions from the ground, shoots arrows from Midnight (that's right, I'm bringing this relic back), and launches small glass projectiles.

3. Azula catches Cinder off guard with lightning.

4. At one point, the two cause a giant explosion (I'm sorry for reusing this so much), with Cinder soaring to avoid the blast. Azula doesn't come out unscathed.

5. Azula knows what she has to do though, and she smirks. Her opponent may be floating above her, but she is beneath the Princess. Azula pulls a Long Feng, exposing Cinder's insecurities, the fruitlessness in Cinder's pursuit of power, the missing eye, and how shoddily she fights, and Cinder breaks down, shouting and charging headfirst at her enemy. She lost to Little Red, Raven Branwen, and even Watts; she won't lose to this prissy girl.

6. Azula, smugly manipulates her opponent: "I know why you fight. You fight for power, for strength, for superiority. Admirable though your efforts may be, it's meaningless. Your eyes alone reveal your story: a powerless runt pushed around and abused, even betrayed. You killed almost all that stood in your path until you lost your eye and your arm. You willingly sacrificed yourself for power, but you fight so poorly, and it didn't get you anything except misery and defeat."

7. The battle ends with Cinder shooting Azula and using Scorching Caress like she did with Pyhrra, leading to her crying like with Watts or Azula using lightning to shock Cinder to death like she would've done to Zuko.

Azula is the smarter of the two, is the superior martial artist, and has the faster attack in lightning manipulation, but Cinder has greater mobility with her flight and if scaled to Emerald and Mercury like in Blake vs Mikasa, she's capable of dodging lightning, can likely end the fight with Scorching Caress, and theoretically won't run out of weapons since as long as there's dirt, she can turn it into glass. Azula is at the risk of a mental breakdown and Cinder is prone to manipulation and has underestimated her opponents.

Ending puns:

"Azula simply made Cinder fall."

"Azula got flamed, and got her glass kicked."

Possible track names:

"Fallen Hot Megalomania"

The names would be in reference to Cinder's last name, the idea that both have fallen from grace or power and their unending drive for power.

It would take elements and cues from Cinder's theme from Vol. 8 and the final fight between Zuko and Azula.

THANK YOU AND I HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS!

#death battle #rwby cinder #cinder fall #princess azula #atla azula #ideas

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ateliaers · 1 year ago

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@frysse requested plots, please, for henri, or rapunzel, or any other muse that might tickle your fancy !

henri & elsa. the man, the myth, the murderer himself, good god. henri’s default interaction is always one of pursuit — six wives down looking for lucky number seven, & so audaciously arrogant about it that he has no problem pressing his suit on those wildly out of his league, & depending on at which point in elsa’s timeline you prefer to write, he could very easily fit in there on the edge of arendelle, hans But Worse, intent on pursuing elsa & / or anna for his own gratification & causing friction there ? for all that he thinks he’s suave, he’s far from subtle, & it wouldn’t be hard to glean his intentions. but then there’s also the fact that, even though it’s usually under - explored as a result of focusing on The Horrors that are part & parcel of his tale, since getting his hands on his bloody key, henri has had a deep fascination with magic, what it can do, how it can be of service to him, who & what it can bind to him, & he has pockets deep enough to take him all over the world as he chases it, & knowledge of it — rumours of a queen of ice, a spirit made flesh, & the woods she walks would intrigue him like nothing else, honestly ! he’s not a nice person to deal with in a lot of his verses, despite the superficial charm, so his dynamic with elsa would probably be on the antagonistic spectrum, but if it’s something you’re up for, then so am i !

rapunzel & elsa. oh isolated youth buddies hello <3 i’m very interested in the contrast between them, to be honest, elsa incorporeal against rapunzel who is desperate to be grounded, but also the similarity in hearing that call from something beyond, though rapunzel’s is much more mundane compared to the spirits who called elsa ! rapunzel is a little um. emotionally volatile, or unstable, honestly, choose your own adjective about it, as a result of her odd upbringing, but she wasn’t always a prisoner in the tower, just as elsa wasn’t always kept locked away ( something something about how it was quote unquote for their own good, & how tremendously that backfired, actually. ) but ! the potential is there for them to have crossed paths briefly as children, to meet again as adults once rapunzel has escaped / been pushed out of the tower, circumstances depending ? or, if following the thread of the latter, where she’s left to wander the world with little instruction on how to make her own way, they could cross paths, & spin off from there ? while i don’t have a tangled – based verse for her, so no sundrop & associated powers from that, i’m always down for making new verses in the service of plotting, & considering her mother was a witch who explicitly used her magic on her with regard to her hair, god alone only knows what other effects that could have had on her, & what powers it could have granted her. two magical girls, alone in the woods ? always a good time, as far as i’m concerned !

signy & elsa. while i’m not sure if you have a grishaverse … well, verse, for elsa, signy’s an easy one to pull out of that setting & place anywhere else, because when you boil it down to basics, she’s a silver – tailed mermaid with a powerful singing voice, the magic in which can be used to summon storms, bring varying objects into existence, hypnotize others, &, during certain rituals, turn them temporarily into humans. a little summary quickly here just because her bio has still to go up, but signy spent a bit of time on land in her youth which went … disastrously, resulting in her becoming queen of the sildroher at the expense of her best friend’s body, voice, & goodness, & as an adult, it’s heavily implied she ends up becoming the mother to the grishaverse version of the little mermaid, with the friend she left for dead becoming the sea witch who sends her to her doom, but her timeline is flexible, so ! even on land, the sildroher are pretty powerful, & given that neither she nor elsa are fully human, while i don’t know it’s right to say they would bond over looking human – but – a – little – to – the – left, there’s a natural fascination in signy about people who walk on land, & elsa having one foot on it & one foot elsewhere would absolutely captivate her for sure ! & once signy becomes queen beneath the waves, & her kids start doing stupid shit like making bargains with a sea witch she had an intensely homoerotic relationship with as a teenager … well, her husband’s a prick, to put it nicely, so i can see her either reaching out to any spirits she can get in contact with on land to ask for help with them, or even carving herself a set of legs once more to pursue them, & potentially looking to ally with elsa as a result of that !

( & while i’m sticking to three just for the nature of the prompt, i’m also pushing forward elody & gerard of greenleigh for interactions, in the vein of the pair of them being another set of muses who have, essentially, lived past the end of their myths, & luna, the buried moon, who is shaking elsa’s hand regarding being a spirit / of another world, but who was forced into a corporeal / human form, & struggled to deal with it ! )

#frysse #◆ ― ask meme. ooc.#ty for sending this in lovely !! <3 #your take on elsa is fantastic so if any of these tickle your fancy i'd be so down to plot through them a little more !!#& if they don't hit i'm always happy to explore other plots with different muses !! god knows i have enough of em sdkfjasjdsdj

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lonesurvivorao3 · 7 months ago

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Eris Shepard Quotes

Snippets and one liners from Pandoras Box.

“A lie is of no use unless someone trusts you enough to believe it.”

Having defeated a second Reaper, this time on Rannoch, Eris had no trouble confronting the finger in her face steadily. “Your accusations are demonstrably false.”

“She who hesitates is usually fucked.”

“Can’t be all temper and no timing when there are children are crying,” she said again, as if that were explanation enough.

“I’ve never had any respect for bureaucrats.”

Despite knowing she’d acted beyond all logical reason, she barked at Garrus. “You don’t have to agree with me; it’s called the chain of command, and I’m at the very top.“

“Did I seem to give a fuck about that?”

After a few minutes, Eris placed a bookmark then put it on top of the pile. Her hand raked through her hair, effortlessly parting the waist-length ringlets. “By way of an introductory remark, you should know I am extremely miffed about your intrusion into my life and book.”

“You’ve read the stories. You know who I am. Nobody has ever stopped me.”

When asked what happened in the tower with Mordin, she sucked in a breath facetiously and said, “I did the math and found the reproductive rate unsustainable.”

“I watched Fleet and Flotilla with Tali. Let us never speak of it.”

She wept uncontrollably, all of her despair and every ounce of bitterness leaking out. “How many hours I have spent staring up at the sky wondering if there were other choices I could have made, some other path I should have taken.”

“Lies! You’d fuck this moment if you could.”

Eris asked where the bathroom was and shut the door behind her; she leaned against it, her eyes rolling rapidly under her eyelids. “Don’t make me see it; I don’t want to see it.”

“The best way to pull people together is to give them a mission in which the stakes are so high that the odds don’t matter.”

“I’d wager they did not have subordinates incessantly asking questions and hindering the progress of the task at hand,” grunted Eris, side-eyeing Vega in a way Kaidan hadn’t seen since the days of the SR1 and Williams.

“Faulty logic postulated on imperfect data collection!”

Lowering himself to a crouch in front of her, Kaidan opened the case and placed a cigarette between her split lip, lighting it with practiced ease. After taking a couple of long drags, she flicked the ash and gestured outside. “There’s a terrible confusion amongst the stars.”

“Do not interrupt me, ever.”

“Well, as they say,” she said, helpless to stop the prick in a suit doing whatever he wanted but determined not to show an ounce of fear nor answer anything he might ask. Besides, what could he inflict upon her that hadn’t already been done at one time or another? “Duh.”

“Rather less than bloody optimal, no?”

“Doilies?” she questioned, striding across the room and waving one underneath Anderson’s nose. “What sort of monster have you become since I last saw you?”

“Are you pulling rank on me, Major?”

But it wasn’t enough to help her find her bearings, stop the furious, frightened tears or make her refrain from asking for the impossible. “I don’t want to. Please take me home. Please.”

“Everyone looking to me as if I know what I’m doing. I can’t afford the cost of a conscience.”

“The volume of your voice and the validity of your arguments always exist in inverse proportion,” sighed Eris, succumbing to the exhaustion that continued to wrack her body. She collapsed onto the bed, still fully clothed.

“The time for careful consideration has long since passed!”

“Forgive my foolishness,” she said, wiping her cheek with the back of her thumb. “I know it’s not possible; I know what I am. A wretched thing, monstrous, barely human.”

#mass effect fanfic #mass effect fanfiction #femshep #canon divergence #mass effect #ruthless renegade #renegade shepard #butcher of torfan #EarthBorn Shepard #shareyourshep #fanfic writing #fanfic wip

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vickyvicarious · 2 years ago

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I feel Phoenix Wright is among the characters who are like,

"If I didn't have constant anxiety, it'd be over for you."

He already seems impossible from the outside in canon when he's often a nervous wreck. Imagine if that anxiety wasn't there.

Take a look at these three sprites for a second. (It takes a little while, but I promise you'll see the relevance.) They're the confident/smiling forward facing for each person. And... there's some interesting similarities, yes? AJ-era Phoenix's sprite is pretty close to being a perfect mix of Godot and Mia's. His hands in his pockets, midway between Mia's crossed arms and Godot's hands on hips. They're all angling their bodies slightly to the side in the same direction. Mia's head is tilted the opposite way and forward a little; Godot's in line with his shoulders and back; Phoenix is in line with his shoulders but closer to Mia's angle. Heck, even color wise - it's definitely more of a stretch but Phoenix has on a dark jacket and necklace like Mia, but his hat is closer in color to Godot's shirt, and it is also noticeable/bright headwear like the mask.

The reason I bring up these sprites is because... well, in AJ we see Phoenix from the outside for the first time and he really does seem very inscrutable. Knowing him, he's definitely still feeling a lot of anxiety over things, but he doesn't show it and thus we the players don't see it, since he's no longer our POV. I think there are a couple factors at play there as well, because Phoenix certainly seems to have gotten better at hiding his flopsweat moments in that game. You could say there's a certain element of detachment, because despite all his machinations, in the end he isn't a lawyer for any part of that game and so ultimately, the responsibility is no longer his. Maybe that's a factor.

But AJ-era Phoenix (or 'Beanix') keeps coming to mind for me. I realized a few months ago that in that game, his relationship to Kristoph (and the plot itself as well as Apollo) strongly mimics Mia's with Dahlia. However, looking at these sprites got me thinking that he also mimics Godot.

AJ-era Phoenix also returns after a long absence from the legal world, which was forced upon him due to the actions of a poisoner who successfully tricked him (Godot actually got poisoned, Phoenix just disbarred). And when he next shows up in court, he is visibly very different (mask and hair vs. beanie/hoodie). He's also a lot more jaded, and takes an interest in a young new attorney closely linked to the poisoner responsible for his absence. He's secretive, often for what seems like no purpose at all, but has a plan that's only revealed in the final case - which itself was a combination of somewhat longterm planning/buildup, and adapting to unexpected situations right at the last minute. He takes risks and works outside the courtroom/sometimes the law to achieve his goal (the bloody ace isn't exactly the same as stabbing Misty Fey, but, y'know), and in general appears quite different from his past self. However, in the end his goals are very sympathetic, and much more than just simple 'revenge', however morally dubious some of his choices have been.

Obviously, Beanix is not one-to-one with Godot. But I can see a rough sketch of similarities there, and certainly in general attitude/vibe they're more similar than Phoenix and Mia seem to be at that point. Even some of the things Godot says seem like they could be a Beanix quote (this came to mind). I think there's at least enough to go on to say that AJ-era Phoenix is once again a mix of Mia and Godot.

I find this interesting because Phoenix looked up to Mia right from the beginning, and modeled so much of his behavior, strategies, and philosophies after her. And yet, she just as obviously learned a lot from Diego, back when she was the inexperienced new lawyer. The most notable being, of course, the quote passed down to Mia and then Phoenix: "A lawyer only cries when it's all over." (Another Godot quote that seems to apply to Beanix is this one.) And the thing is, Phoenix looks up to Mia so much, and she generally seems pretty knowledgeable and unflappable, but once we get inside her head/play a few cases as her we see she has a lot of nervousness hidden behind her facade, much like Phoenix. Of course, those cases were when she was a rookie attorney, but I think the point stands. Godot also reveals a heck of a lot of issues and self-recrimination later on, but for the most part he's really good at seeming very confident. It's another similarity between all of them.

And yet, Godot's problems are more personal. When it comes to the courtroom, he's actually pretty legitimately confident for the most part. At least, I think so. He loses every case we see him try, but it's not for a lack of ability so much as a lack of care. His strategies are good, if unorthodox for a prosecutor (because he's acting more like a defence attorney). He knows what he's doing in court, and although he definitely gets surprised/owned at times, for the most part he's pretty unflappable and fairly quick to recover. Basically, this meta by @theggning is great and I'm trying to restate it briefly, but go read the whole thing. I also think there's a great argument to be made for Mia being quite similar in court. Less cryptic shenanigans, but the same type of underlying confidence in her abilities/craft to back up her determination to protect her clients. Unfortunately, we've never seen her in a case outside of her rookie ones/being a ghost during brief points in Phoenix's trials, so I can't point to specifics as much.

ALL OF THIS TO SAY... as soon as I read your ask, I thought of Godot. I thought of Mia, too. I think that "a more confident Phoenix" would be a lot more similar to the both of them, than to anyone else. You could even say it's a natural extension of his arc, and that it's at least somewhat represented in AJ. In a funny way, you can also read that very same game's events as the reason why he doesn't seem as confident as you might expect him to be once he returns to law in Dual Destinies (his failure with the ace/getting disbarred leading to being somewhat unfamiliar in the courtroom after so long, the pressure of living up to his reputation, the heavy responsibility of protecting his clients again, etc. - you know, vs. the writers just wanting to go back to lawyer!Phoenix and not always thinking too much about his characterization during AJ and how that would develop when they did so). But certainly during AJ, especially from Apollo's outside perspective, I think we get a lot closer to the image of a supremely confident Phoenix Wright.

At least as far as I picture it! I don't think it would make too much difference in terms of him being unstoppable - since like you said, he pretty much already is. But there would be even fewer cracks for his opponents to poke at, and his mistakes wouldn't cut him down as much as they do in trilogy-era. He would inspire the same type of reactions as Godot did when he first appeared... a lot of people feeling intimidated and noticing just how well he seems to know his way around the courtroom, or people getting caught up in his pace and listening to him even sometimes outside their best interests. And, like Mia in the first game with Redd White, he'd scare villains enough to cause issues, probably. But at least he might (also like established lawyer Mia) actually be able to get his clients to pay him well, enough to buy fancy glass lamps if he wanted.

#ace attorney #aa meta #phoenix wright #mia fey #godot #diego armando #my meta #replies #youareshauni #ace attorney meta

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hottpinkpenguin · 3 years ago

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Number 5- "I wouldn't mind death as long as I go out with your name on my lips" with Aro and fem!reader?

Seeking Death

a/n: yessssss as i wrote this i realized just how beautifully perfect this quote is for him, great pairing anon! this one's a bit longer and i served it up a hot side of angst. let me know what you think <3 Characters: Aro x Fem!Reader (used y/n = your name) Word Count: ~4100 | 15 min. read time Warnings: (light) Breaking Dawn spoilers, and of course angst/fluff

Note: vrăjitoare = Romanian word for 'witch'

Y/n had grown tired of the world. The longer she existed – living no longer felt like the right word – the more the planet felt like dusty decay. People were born, lived, and died all in the span of an eye blink.

She envied humans the ephemerality of their lives. It made moments sweeter, love stronger, and gave a sense of urgency to their day-to-day. For y/n, who’d been made immortal thousands of years before, time felt torturous and death was the sweet release hanging just out of reach. All the people she’d known and loved had died. The people she’d met in the years, decades, and centuries immediately after her transformation had died as well. Now, she saw a blurred parade of faces.

Meeting other vampires had once been a thrill, but at this point even they felt inexplicably dull. So many of them were so young and naïve, still clinging to the morality of mortals and basking in the afterglow of a time-limited existence. The drudgery of existing for close to a millennium would wear them down, eventually, like it had worn her down. But, in the meantime, she couldn’t stand to be around them.

So, she chose to exist far from others: humans and vampires alike. There was nowhere on Earth she hadn’t seen before, but occasionally the faintest whisper of a thrill could still be found in the solitude of nature. She chased that fleeting sensation to the remotest corners of the globe, challenging herself to go further into the wild then she’d gone before.

She’d stayed a while on Easter Island, her only company the large stone monoliths made by a civilization of humans long dead. Alaska and northern Russia had also afforded some opportunities for life away from the world. She found the cold agreed with her much more than heat, but after a century even snow-swept mountain vistas lose their luster. She called a few remote islands in the South Indian Ocean home for a time; after that, a cave in the Alps, an abandoned lean-to in the Amazon, a plateau in Tibet. She didn’t stay anywhere for too long before moving on, and she knew that her restlessness was reaching a fever pitch. Although she’d never imagined herself dying by another’s hand, it seemed that death was now a luxury she’d be made to beg for. And so, with that intent in mind, she set off back into the world of the living, hoping to find a vampire or two who would be willing to oblige her final request.

It was in her travels to this end that she first heard of the Volturi. The idea of a semi-governmental body in the world of vampires was not unknown to her; before this Italian regime, the Romanian coven had been long in power. She’d met the leaders of the Romanian coven – Stefan and Vladimir – and found them mildly intriguing for a time. She’d even lived amongst them for a brief period, but found that ruling over others was almost as boring as being ruled over. Despite Stefan’s objections (and eventually, pleading), she’d left the coven to strike out on her own. It seemed in the time since she’d left the world of organized vampiric clans behind, there’d been a change in leadership, and a rather bloody one. It was listening to the tales of the Volturi’s violent overthrow of the Romanians that piqued her interest; surely if the Volturi were threatened enough by other vampires in power, they’d be happy to rid themselves of one other potential rival. If needed, y/n was prepared to make direct threats to their rule to ensure that they responded with the violence she was hoping for.

With a plan in mind, y/n arrived in the sun-soaked city of Volterra. Y/n had lived in a region now known as Italy when she’d been transformed from mortal to vampire, freezing her forever at the age of 24. When she’d last drawn a breath, this land had been known as Maegna Graecia. Y/n supposed that, if anywhere in the world held the mystical title of ‘home’ for her, it was Italy. Therefore, it seemed tragically fitting and oddly poetic that this would be the site of her demise.

Volterra was densely inhabited by humans, a fact which surprised y/n in a vague, disinterested way. The Romanians had preferred to isolate themselves from humans, holing up in expansive, heavily fortified castles in the mountains. These Italian vampires seemed much more content to surround themselves with mortals. Y/n had little doubt that there was likely a strategic motivation for having one’s food source so easily accessible and apparently so ignorant to the threat that lived among them.

Unsure of how to find the Volturi herself, y/n decided that if she was patient enough, the Volturi would likely come to her. From all that she’d heard from the other vampires who had told her of the Volturi, they were keen administrators of their own territory and would no doubt know if an unidentified vampire loitered about long enough.

Careful to avoid the strong beams of sunshine that snaked through the narrow streets of Volterra, y/n allowed herself to explore the city, taking note of the new gadgets and unusual styles of dress that the humans wore. For all their weaknesses and shortcomings, humanity was an insatiably fad-driven race of beings, and it brought y/n some much needed amusement.

By the fourth day in Volterra, y/n finally had enough cloud cover to brazenly explore the unshaded outskirts of the city. As she meandered down a dusty road between two vineyards, a figure came into view ahead of her. To mortal eyes, he would appear a man, although y/n saw clearly the red tint on his eyes and the vaguely marbleized quality of his skin. He had dark, shoulder-length hair and was wearing an outfit of all-black. Exquisitely tailored Italian silk, y/n registered. If there was one quality that most vampires shared, it was a love for beautiful things.

Unafraid, y/n inclined her chin deferentially to the vampire by way of greeting, keeping her gaze even and her expression neutral. He returned her greeting with an interested smile, his head cocking slightly to one side as he approached her.

“Enchante, mademoiselle,” he purred, gently grasping y/n’s hand and placing a chaste kiss on the back of her knuckles. “I do not believe I’ve had the pleasure.” Y/n watched as he ran her hand through his fingers, his eyes darting back and forth as if reading something only he could see. A sad smile spread across his lips as his eyes met hers.

“You have a request for me and my companions.” His statement was not a question, and the certainty with which he said it revealed that he’d been in her thoughts. Y/n was not surprised nor offended; she’d met a fair amount of vampires who were imbued with certain powers during their transformation from mortal to immortal. She herself had not acquired such gifts, but she had assumed that the Volturi would have at least some number of their contingent with extra abilities.

“I do,” she agreed, her voice even. She watched carefully as he considered this admission, his fingers still tracing over her hand. No doubt she had quite a lot of memories for him to sift through, and she found that the intimacy of the act was not unpleasant.

“It’s a shame to lose one among us who’s seen so much,” he mused, his eyes still flicking through her memories. “Perhaps, I could convince you to reconsider.” He looked at her with hope in his eyes. Y/n was oddly struck by that. It had been so long since she’d felt cared about by another that she’d forgotten the feeling. Lonely wasn’t the right word for how she felt, for she didn’t find herself missing companionship. Unlike many other vampires, she’d never found a mate, and had largely given up on the idea. Resigned to an existence of isolation, she’d become quite comfortable with solitude. But to see another so affected by the idea of her not existing, it sparked a flame in her that she’d long thought extinguished.

She wasn’t convinced that this spark would be enough to change her mind, but she couldn’t help to smile back at the man.

“I’d be willing to hear arguments on the matter,” she quipped. The vampire smiled a genuine grin of eagerness as he let her hand fall from his.

“Please, allow me.” He offered his arm to her – a gallant gesture that earned a demure smile from y/n – and led her back towards the city.

*****

That day had been almost forty years ago. Y/n had never expected to find her mate in the Volturi, the vampires she’d planned to petition to end her existence, but fate clearly had other plans for her.

Aro had proven to be an exciting partner, and he’d rekindled y/n’s long dormant zeal for exploration. Together, they’d traveled the world, and although y/n had seen it all before, she found that with Aro it felt as if she were given a fresh pair of eyes. Sunsets were more vivid, flowers more fragrant, mountains taller.

Through their travels, Aro had introduced her to many vampires he knew scattered throughout the world. She hadn’t realized just how many of her kind there were, and she felt a certain affinity for the others she encountered. The Cullens were a particularly intriguing coven, subsisting entirely on animal blood and welcoming a mortal girl into their fold as one of their mates. Y/n saw Aro’s keen interest in the particulars of that storyline, and she felt herself similarly enthralled by the unorthodox practices of Carlisle and the handful of vampires who lived alongside him.

Although y/n was unconcerned by the threat of mortals knowing about vampires, Aro and the other Volturi were deeply unsettled by this, and it was the crux of their leadership to protect the secrecy of vampire kind from humans. To an even greater extent than his companions Marcus and Caius, Aro was particularly discomforted by the threat of exposure, and it was on this premise that he took great exception to Carlisle’s practices with the human girl, Bella.

And so, she found herself alongside the entirety of the Volturi coven – the mercurial Jane and her diffident brother Alec included, amongst others who lived under the Volturi’s protection in Volterra – standing in a large field in the Pacific Northwest across from the Cullens, an assortment of other vampires, and several large werewolves. Y/n had crossed paths with werewolves only a handful of times in her existence. They were natural-born enemies of vampires, and the only creatures y/n knew of that could kill a vampire (save other vampires, of course), so to see such a large pack apparently co-existing with the Cullens was a shock.

The werewolves bristled and growled eagerly, their sharp canines glinting in the late afternoon light. Y/n sidled closer to Aro, a coil of fear twisting around her gut. Not fear for herself, but fear for him. Aro was the leader of the Volturi, and she could practically see the target their opponents had placed on him from across the expanse of bluegrass. Next to her, Aro placed a protective hand along her back, his eyes dancing in her direction for the briefest of moments. Y/n knew he felt the same fear twining around his core for her, and the ferocity with which they would protect another was undeniable.

Tearing her eyes away from the wolves, y/n’s eyes grazed the other vampires assembled next to Carlisle and his clan. She recognized a few, including Benjamin with his smug smirk and the Denali coven, a group of vampires with similar “vegetarian” lifestyles to the Cullens. There were a few faces y/n did not recognize, including two striking Amazonian women with luminous cinnamon skin and an eccentric looking vagabond who hung back from the group near the treeline, uncertainty in his eyes.

Then y/n saw them. The Romanians. Stefan and Vladimir had aged since she’d last seen them almost 1500 years ago. Their skin was so white it was almost translucent and their bodies looked stiff with disuse. They had the same diffident, superior expressions y/n remembered. In the same instant that y/n saw them, Stefan saw her. A murderous glitter flickered in his red irises as his lips curled into a snarl, his body springing into action.

When y/n had decided to leave the Romanians, Stefan had implored her not to, and promised her a seat beside him as his equal, his mate, and the queen-apparent of the vampires. Y/n had known that Stefan’s affections for her far outweighed the benign friendliness she felt towards him for some time. Partly out of self-preservation and partly to avoid parting on poor terms, y/n had lied and told Stefan that she refused his offer based on the fact that she didn’t want that kind of power. In truth, y/n cared little for a potential mate’s power - or lack thereof; she had simply wanted to exit the Romanian coven without having to kill any of them. They’d been kind enough to let her live with them for nigh on three hundred years, and she’d enjoyed their ostentatious, violent lifestyle for a time.

Y/n saw the irony of her arrival in that clearing from Stefan’s perspective. The memory of her rebuke was fresh in his memory, that much was crystal clear from the savagery with which he responded to seeing her. And now, to see her standing next to the leader of the Volturi, the de facto vampire monarch, exposed her true motivations for turning down Stefan’s offer of eternal partnership. Y/n hadn’t anticipated meeting the Romanians here, but it seemed she had gravely underestimated the lengths they were willing to go to exact their long-desired revenge on the Volturi for usurping them centuries ago.

As these facts coalesced in y/n’s mind in an instant, she watched as Stefan, shortly followed by Vladimir, sprinted across the field. The ghostly white faces of the two Romanians were twisted into masks of bloodlust, and they were closing the gap between them with astounding speed. Acting on instinct, y/n threw her arm in front of Aro, shoving him backwards with as much force as she could muster. Aro was powerful, and larger than her, but the element of surprise worked in her favor. She felt Aro lift off his feet and begin hurtling backwards, away from the two Romanians closing in. In the distance behind them, the Cullens and their counterparts were all wearing various expressions of surprise, befuddlement, and horror. It seemed that the Romanians’ offensive was not part of the plan. Y/n hoped this would work in her favor, but she was unable to give that hope much thought before she was face-to-face with her two former associates.

Stefan reached her first. In a fit of spurned rage, he grabbed her forearm and began wheeling her towards Vladimir, a few steps behind him. Despite y/n’s initial assessment that Stefan had looked marbleized and immobile, the sheer force with which he seized her knocked her off balance. Her feet dug into the soft, muddy ground up to her ankles, but Stefan had already brought her in Vladimir’s direct line of attack. Y/n vaguely registered movement around her as the rest of the vampires and wolves assembled in the field sprang into combat. Vladimir’s lips peeled back, revealing his fang-like canines as he cocked his head, his eyes bored onto the side of her neck, his target.

Y/n had just enough time to crouch down. Stefan’s iron grip on her forearm didn’t yield, however, and she felt a sickening splintering sensation in her shoulder - accompanied by a sound like shattering glass - as her arm threatened to snap off at the root. Vladimir wasn’t able to correct, and he sailed over her head, grasping futilely at the air as he tried to stay his momentum. Before he’d hit the ground, y/n grabbed Stefan’s ankle, the closest part of his body to her, and wrenched his foot with all her might. The same crackling sound preempted the gratifying snap as his foot broke clean off his leg. He collapsed to his knee, loosening his grip on her arm, a roar of pain mingled with blind rage erupting from his throat.

Y/n seized her momentary advantage, rising to her full height and gripping the sides of Stefan’s face. She began to twist, fighting against him to wrest his head from his neck. The sides of his pale face cracked, and he snarled viciously at y/n, his red eyes boring into her. She saw nothing but hatred there, and a small distant part of her felt sadness for him. Stefan had been an entertaining companion, but his heart was shallow and fickle; one of many reasons y/n knew she could never love him.

As that spark of pity for Stefan flickered through her, y/n felt hard arms wrap around her neck from behind, lifting her off the ground. An accented voice laughed coldly in her ear.

“Nice to see you again, vrăjitoare,” Vladimir sneered as he put his arms to the task of twisting her neck. Y/n knew immediately that Vladimir had outmatched her; he was taller than she, so she wasn’t able to catch her footing, and with him behind her she had almost no chance of overpowering him, a tall order even from the front with proper footing. As y/n felt the flesh on her neck erupt into a thousand splintering fissures, she felt a panic set in.

Panic over death was not something y/n had felt since she’d lost her mortality. Even before she’d become world weary and set off on the path to seek her own demise, death hadn’t held the mystique over her that it had when she’d drawn breath as a human. But now, as she saw darkness seeping in at the edges of her vision, there was an indisputable terror coursing through her body. Y/n realized it wasn’t terror of dying so much as it was terror over not being with Aro.

Aro. She had lost track of him since she’d made sure he was clear from danger, but she knew without a doubt that he was watching. Undoubtedly, he was probably making his way back towards her at that very moment. Y/n could picture his expression, the franticness with which he would try to close the distance between them to prevent her demise. She knew his eyes would be trained on hers, gliding over her features, trying desperately to stretch out the fractions of instants between now and her death. Y/n felt a pang of regret rip through her; she refused to allow Aro to see her in her final moments giving in to pain and horror. He’d once rescued her from the edge of death; how ironic that he should now bear witness to it. The least she could do was give him an image of her at peace before she could no longer give him anything.

Y/n let herself relax into Vladimir’s death grip as she called up images of her life with Aro.

Their first hunt together, the fascination and adoration with which Aro let y/n pick her target… the shy way Aro had first shown her his chambers (“our chambers”, he’d called them) at the Volturi’s compound in Volterra… the swell of pride in his chest when he introduced her to old acquaintances he’d made across the globe, always using the term “my long awaited mate” to present her to the vampires he considered friends… the gleeful way Aro would scroll through her infinite memories, holding her palm against his bare chest with both hands…

These images, and the bone-deep serenity they conjured in her chest, allowed y/n to completely surrender herself to the inevitability of death. She waited, her face relaxed and her eyelids fluttering closed, for the final fracture before darkness took her.

But it never came. Instead, y/n felt Vladimir’s arms slacken like loose tree trunks around her neck as an ear splitting crack resounded across the field. Y/n fell to her knees, grabbing instinctively at her neck, a white hot pain radiating around her throat like a necklace. She was distantly aware of a figure stepping over her towards Stefan, who’d remained where she’d left him to watch greedily as Vladimir had made to end her. Y/n looked up to see Aro, his eyes afire with bloodlust, as he emitted a guttural growl and ripped Stefan’s head from his body by the root of his white-blonde hair. Stefan’s severed head dropped to the ground, his face still contorted in a frozen mask of shock and fear.

Aro sank to his knees in front of y/n, cradling her face gently between his palms.

“My love,” he murmured, his voice laced with horror. Y/n looked up at him, and although it had been thousands of years since she’d last used lungs, she felt breathless. His eyes poured into hers with unbridled intensity, and as he saw her return his gaze his face broke into a cry of relief. He pressed his lips to hers - messily and needily - as his hands raked through her hair. He gripped her close. Around them, y/n heard the sounds of combat lessening, and Carlisle’s gently but firmly given command of “enough!” silencing the final few moments of battle. Y/n cast a quick glance around; aside from Stefan’s and Vladimir’s headless corpses, it seemed that the remainder of the Volturi and the Cullens’ assembled forces hadn’t suffered any casualties. She noticed a werewolf limping away from the field, favoring one of its legs, and saw Carlisle helping one of his children - the surly looking dark-haired one who was mated to Bella - up from the ground.

“Why didn’t you fight? Why did you give up?”

Y/n had hardly registered Aro’s worried murmurs as questions until he repeated them several times. Gently, he guided her face back until her eyes were square with his, his palms still framing her face and stroking her tenderly, careful to avoid the ragged wounds on her neck.

“Why did you give up, mi amore? Why were you going to let him end you?”

Y/n had difficulty grasping Aro’s meaning at first. She felt her mind tiring as the adrenaline of battle wore off. Slowly, the moments she had thought to be her last slid back into her memory: the surrender she’d thrown up in the face of certain death, the peace she’d felt at recalling the beautiful life she’d discovered with Aro, all at a time when she’d thought herself entirely drained of capacity to care for beauty anymore. As the pieces fell into place, she realized that Aro had indeed been watching her at what she’d thought was the end, but that he had misinterpreted what he’d seen. He’d seen her giving up, when in fact she’d been giving over to the happiness he’d given to her.

Suddenly intent on correcting his mistake, she brought her hands to his, lacing her fingers with his as she brought their hands to his chest, inviting him to read her memories.

“Was it not enough, my sweet? Our life together?” His voice shook with emotion as he contemplated his deepest fear: that he had saved her selfishly from the end she’d wanted, and not given her anything in return.

“My love, no, I was not giving up,” she replied. She saw Aro listening and also watching, her memories becoming his as he watched her memories. His thumbs glided softly over the backs of her hands. Y/n remembered fondly the first time he’d done so, in the outskirts of Volterra, the day he’d saved her immortal life.

As she watched him read through her memories, she smiled indulgently at him.

“My dear Aro,” she murmured, “I wouldn't mind death, as long as I went out with your name on my lips.”

She saw his handsome mouth turn into a smile as the sincerity of her words soaked into his ears. He reconnected his lips with her, this kiss deeper and fiercer than the last, as he gave her his firm agreement on the subject…

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