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readerihardlyknowher · 2 months ago

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A Loving Feeling | Pt. 3

Okay, it's straying a little from the original request (don't kill me guys) but I'm enjoying this. (sorry the photo qualities are shit)

Spencer Agnew x Reader Warnings: None WC: 2,571 Pt.1, Pt.2, Pt. 3

Your eyes open to the sound of pans clanging in a nearby kitchen. Groaning, you rub your eyes, a little groggy until you realize that you’re not in your bed. When you look around, you recognize Spencer’s apartment, and the memories from last night come rushing in. Looking over to the kitchen, you see Spencer in a white band t-shirt and black sweatpants, cursing himself. Once he looks over at you, he apologizes.

“Sorry about that, didn’t mean to wake you,” he says, before resuming whatever it is he’s doing. When you take in a deep inhale, you can smell something warm and bread-y.

“Smells good,” you say, pulling the covers off yourself and looking down at his hoodie, which you’re still wearing. Shrugging, you stand up anyways, knowing you’ll just give it to him after you change. Walking into the kitchen, you lean against the counter, out of his way, but just watching him.

He seems focused on what he’s making, which appears to be everything bagels with cream cheese and avocados. When he finally looks up at you, he pauses for a moment, just looking down at the hoodie. For a moment, you assume he’s upset, like you weren’t supposed to put it on, that you should go change right now.

“Looks good on you,” he says, before looking back at the bagel he’s making now, spreading the cream cheese on with a knife.

“Thanks, but I think it suits you much better,” you say, taking in his plain appearance. His hair is much messier than it normally is, and you assume yours is as well. “There’s a reason the fans love it.”

“Yeah well, I like it better on you,” is all he says. You sit with that, looking down at the hoodie, not seeing how it at all is enhanced by being on you, but still feeling a smile crawl onto your face.

As you’re looking down, you see Spencer walk up to you, hanging you a plate with your breakfast. Your eyes light up upon seeing how delicious the bagel looks. Looking back up at him, he has a small smile on his face as he pushes the plate into your hands.

“C’mon, let’s eat,” he says, walking to the couch and setting his plate down on the coffee table, before looking up at you to beckon you closer. You take your seat next to him, watching as he turns on the TV. There’s a nice, comfortable silence as you both eat, leaning against one another so slightly, you wouldn’t even notice unless someone called it out.

By the time you’re finished, Spencer gets a notification on his phone. You watch as he looks down at it, reads the message, and then stands up, taking his and your plate to the kitchen.

“Alright, as much as I’d love to keep you here all day, Angela’s almost at your place and I promised her I wouldn’t keep her waiting,” he says, before walking to his shoe rack and getting his shoes on. It takes you a minute to adjust to what he said, but when you do, you stand up, walking to the bathroom.

“Okay, just give me a minute to get changed,” you say, but Spencer’s voice stops you.

“No time for that. Like I said, I promised I wouldn’t keep her waiting,” his voice calls out, causing you to turn around and shoot him a suspicious glare. The smile on his face definitely revealing something.

“Are you just trying to offload your clothes onto me?” You ask, fairly certain that he is. His reply is a casual shrug as he finishes putting on his shoes.

“Better get your shoes on now, car’s gonna leave without you,” he teases, standing straighter and leaning against the door. For a moment, you weigh your options. Either you force him and Angela to wait while you change, or you take the hoodie and not only not be able to give it back, but have Angela see you in it. It’s risky, but Spencer’s expectant gaze makes you falter.

“...Fine. Just don’t blame me when we’ve got a slack channel dedicated to this,” you say, stomping over to the shoe rack and getting your shoes on, rushing a little. Out of the corner of your eye you can see him smiling down at you, before he opens the front door and steps outside, waiting for you.

Begrudgingly, you follow him out, waiting as he locks his apartment behind him. When you walk down and get to the car, you take your seat and grumble as he gets in the drivers’ side, starting the car to drive to your apartment.

“Can’t believe you, Spence. What will the fans say when they can’t see you in this beautiful sweatshirt anymore?” You ask, trying to guilt him into taking it back. He scoffs quietly and shakes his head.

“Well, the fans don’t control me. Besides, I have hoodies I like better. I really need to clear my closet out, so you’d be doing me a favor if anything,” he says, maintaining his nonchalant tone. You consider his words for a moment, that he really was meaning to get rid of it, before your eyes narrow.

“You know what this is gonna do to our coworkers,” your already annoyed self replies. Courtney sending you glances, Amanda giving you a mom talk about dating in the workplace, Chanse teasing you in front of him. It gives you the chills just thinking about it. Spencer smiles at your comment, sly and mischievous.

“Yeah but like, isn’t it a little fun? To get them all wired up on something that’s not even gonna happen?” He says, a lighthearted, yet sneaky tone in his voice. You open your mouth to contest, but close it once you begin actually thinking about it. Your coworkers have been tormenting you for weeks, what Spencer says might be a good opportunity to get them back.

“Y’know, you may be onto something…” you reply in a low tone, your mind already considering the possibility of getting your coworkers to go wild. It would be pretty decent revenge. Sensing your tone change, Spencer glances over at you and smiles.

“You thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’?” He asks, but he already knows your answer.

“I think I am, Spence. I think I am,” you say slowly. The conversation falls off not long after as you approach your apartment.

Getting out of the car, you look around and see Angela’s car parked not too far, so you both walk up to it together. Peering through the window, you see that she’s on her phone, looking at something you can’t see. You knock on the passenger side window, making her head shoot up at you, before she opens her door to get out.

“Hey, guys! Again, I’m so sorry for accidentally taking your–” she pauses mid sentence as she looks down at your hoodie. When she recognizes it as Spencer’s, her eyes widen, but tries to play it off. You don’t even need to look at Spencer to know he’s grinning. “So, anyways, you guys have fun last night?” You can tell it’s two questions in one. If you had fun last night at the party and last night with Spencer.

“Yeah,” you reply, keeping your tone casual. “We had so much fun.” Her eyes widen again, seeming shocked that you said that.

“Yeah, the party was really great. It’s a shame I had to keep this lovely lady all night though,” Spencer says from behind you, before you feel his hand resting on your shoulder. Angela doesn’t speak for a moment, just stares, then finally blinks and smiles.

“Right, well, um, here’s your jacket and keys. Sorry again, you two.” She shoots you two a confused look, before getting in her car. She drives off as you two turn to walk to your apartment. When she’s finally gone, you hear Spencer snickering beside you. You roll your eyes and face him with a half grin.

“That was too much, dude. She definitely thinks we hooked up,” you say, but your face betrays how fun you found it. He takes a minute to stop laughing.

“Sorry, I know. But man, her face was great. I wonder if she’s calling Courtney yet,” he says, which makes you groan.

“I’m sure we’ll find out soon enough.” Silence follows for a minute, you both standing there, wondering what there is to possibly say next. It takes even longer to force the words you didn’t want to say out of your mouth. “I should probably get back inside. You sure you don’t want this back?” You gesture to the hoodie.

“I’m sure,” he says, a soft smile on his face as he looks down at your– his hoodie on you. “See you tomorrow, Y/n/n.”

“See ya, Spence.” Your reply comes instantly, and you hesitate before turning back to your building and heading inside. You really had enjoyed spending so much time with him. You knew he felt the same.

_______________________

The next few days went as you pretty much expected; your coworkers all confused and surprised by the displays of public affection. Now, you hadn’t done anything too crazy, but it was definitely more than what you were doing before all this. A couple weeks ago, you might have been seen leaning against each other to show videos between the two of you, but Spencer’s like that with anyone, nothing special. Now though? Now things were stepping up. And not once did it feel unnatural.

“Hey, you done writing?” You hear the familiar voice of your partner in fake-romantic crime from behind your chair. Swiveling around, you see him hovering above you, hands in his jacket pockets, looking casual as ever.

“I can be, why? Need something?” You ask.

“I just wanted to know your availability for this weekend. There’s this new movie that’s being released on Max that looks right up your alley,” he says, shrugging his shoulders a little as he makes his statement.

“You’re lucky, I’m free all weekend. Your place or mine?”

“Mine. I’ll pick you up,” he says, looking like there’s more he wants to discuss, but the sound of someone calling for him makes him shoot you an affirmative glance, before walking off.

You go back to work on your computer, but it doesn’t take long for you to be interrupted again. This time, Tommy, whose desk is across from yours, stands up to look down at you.

“So…” he begins, a clearly teasing/excited tone in his voice. “You and Spencer?”

“Me and Spencer… are going to watch a movie together this weekend, yes,” you say, teasing him right back. His lips tighten in a smile after he scoffs.

“You two are getting pretty close, y’know. Is there… y’know… anything happening there?” He asks, his tone joking, but also genuine. Perfectly finding the balance. You roll your eyes with a smile.

“Oh come on, you know I’d tell you if anything was happening. It’s just a normal movie night, cuddling and watching movies,” you say, a mischievous look in your eyes with the last few words. You can hear by the loud “HAH” he emits that your teasing worked.

“You’re the worst. You better keep me updated though,” he says, a clear indication of his meaning in his tone. You roll your eyes with a smile, still somewhat annoyed people have been taking your relationship and assuming. But hey, it’s just what Shayne and Courtney had to go through. Wait, no, they’re actually together. Bad example.

The day goes by pretty slowly after that, with your writing getting done pretty quickly, leaving you with not much else to do. Technically, you know you can go ask for more work, but lately, work has felt secondary to your friendships. Crazy, right? All you can think about is how much you’d rather be filming a fun video or hanging out with friends, so it feels more torturous to know that you aren’t scheduled for a video today, while quite a few of your friends are.

At around 2 PM, you’re tired of scrolling through the same google doc for an hour so you check the filming schedule for today, deciding to drop in on whatever’s going on if it looks good enough. Lucky for you, it’s an episode of Moose Master, one of your favorites.

Getting up from your desk, you walk over to the games area, making sure to be quiet while walking behind the crew, searching for a spot to sit where you won’t bother anyone. During said search, your eyes meet Spencer’s, whose eyes were already on you. He raises his hand to call you over, before patting the chair beside his for you to sit down. Glancing around to make sure you won’t get in the way of anything first, you walk over and lean back into the extra chair, which is normally occupied by anyone who wants to take it. Today, that person is you.

When you glance over to his screen, you notice him keeping the rules for Moose Master open on one screen, just to make sure no one’s breaking any, with snake on another. You huff out a small laugh at the sight, clicking your tongue in disappointment.

“Slacking off at work, not a good look, Spence,” you speak, low enough to not be heard by anyone or any mics. A smile creeps onto his face as he turns to look at you, a smug look on his face.

“I saw you at your desk earlier. You have no room to talk about slacking off,” he said cockily, before going back to playing snake on his second screen. You scoff at his words and elbow his arm lightly. When you do so, his other hand comes up to hit your arm back, so you hit his, causing an endless pattern of mildly annoying each other. It only ends when your arms get tired and so you just place your arm over his as a sign of dominance. He does move his hand a little, just enough to flip it over and hold onto yours. It takes no time for you to do the same to him, holding his hand like it’s your own personal stress ball.

With you keeping your eyes trained on the cast playing, and his darting between that and his laptop, which he’s miraculously working on with just his right hand, it doesn’t take long for your hands to become a little clammy. It doesn’t stop either of you though, since neither of you want to be the one to pull back. Sometimes it feels nice to hold hands with your good pal. Sometimes it makes the tightness in your chest feel just a little less tight.

You don’t really care at this point about any glances you get. Frankly, the longer this “prank” of yours – if you could call it that – goes on, the less you get. You predict that by the end of the month, the little looks you get from your coworkers will cease. They’ll realize it’s just your guys’ friendship and nothing more.

By the end of filming, you forget your hands were even joined, so when Spencer stands up and retracts his hand from yours to go talk with someone, your hand feels empty. Empty, cold, and a little wet.

Taglist: @superstinkychimp

#spencer agnew #spencer agnew x reader #smosh fanfiction #smosh fic

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melondecarabia · 4 months ago

Note

hey there 👋 may i suggest a smut one with alan as a follow up of your hc? we are DEPRIVED here ;) dom reader x unexperienced-touchstarved if possible. go wild with it for the rest, whatever you feel

˙⟡ like a prayer

alan x dominant fem reader

smut, comfort

mdni!

authors note: and i did go wild. this is what listening to madonna in the morning does to you. also, this is my first full length smut fic.

tw: insecure and touchstarved alan, passing out, heresy? SMUT! crying

This is a cycle he started himself, so why is he nervous?

He's the one who insisted on fixing the door of the dorm.

He's the one who insisted it wouldn't be trouble.

Even after only a few days of speaking to each other, it was clear that you'd be the type of person to pay things back, even with insistence that it wasn't necessary. And that could've been a simple, one time exchange. But, overhearing that your couch was unstable, only one passing memory of sharing fresh, homebaked bread was enough to start the cycle.

"Hi Alan! You hungry yet? Let me tell you, I got a good deal on those soup ingredients-" It's too sudden to give a reaction. The friendly smile distracts, the excited voice makes a staggering blow, and the guiding touch is a knockout. But he doesn't make any attempt to shake it off, even if the warmth feels like a thousand needles. Because it feels like fitting punishment.

Words or actions aren't needed here. In fact, you specifically tell him to relax on the chair you've pulled out, leaving his shoulder to sting like a bleeding cut in the absence of warmth. It's both frustrating and calming to watch you wipe down the kitchen counter, with nothing to do but stare at the action.

That plain white t-shirt makes you look like one of the angels depicted downstairs. "Alan? Do you want croutons with your soup?" He's never been religious, but something about that question is connected with communion bread in the moment. Wait, there's a question being asked. "Yeah. Yes, sure." And that's all that the leaden tongue he's got can do right now. Ah. This table needs a new coat of lacquer.

˙⟡

Alan acts like a skittish stray whenever you two are alone, but keeps coming back. At least the plates set in front of him always get thoroughly cleaned, and there's yet to be any complaints. Would he keep silent about his dislikes or uncomfortability? Hopefully, the answer is no. The sleeves of the slightly crumpled shirt on him are rolled down, even with the warm weather.

˙⟡

Alan hadn't even noticed the figure slightly crouching closeby. He feels the need to sever eye contact to avoid any disrespect. It's much easier to look at how the white cotton falls on- oh. No bra? Uh- "The desk. One of the legs- it's loose, right? Yeah." Please have mercy. In an effort to not choke on a deafening heartbeat, he gets to fetching the toolbox set atop a wooden wardrobe. It'd be better for the both of you if you'd just… let him fix everything in the dorm while you're away. And never say anything about it. Ever.

˙⟡

The reaching motion reveals the skin between cuff and glove, blooming with shades between violent purple and nauseating green. "What happened?" It's an obvious reason to express concern, but Alan flinches like a little bird. People call the tall man dangerous, yet he acts scared to be eaten alive by you. Well, that's sort of reasonable, what with some desires yet to be said out loud. His mouth moves without sound, but freezes with a light touch to inspect the bruises.

˙⟡

The only thing being processed between pierced ears at the moment is the thumb lightly resting on the pulse point of his thick wrist, and the sound of the deep sea that only Alan could hear right now. A sudden need for water becomes clear.

˙⟡

His face has changed color from pale and sickly to strawberry red concerningly quickly. That, combined with the unresponsiveness to questions about the origin of your concerns, gives reason to call for some help. "Hello? You look like you're about to pass out. Sit down for now, okay?" At least he won't fall over and hit his head now. With that out of the way, the phone is left back in-

"Alan?" A gentle grasp motions for you to stay. Well, it could hardly be described as a grasp, as the delicate touch barely even registered at first. "Don't." Not a command, but a soft plead. The vacant look changes with the brush of three digits against heated cheekbone, to something resembling more the face of a man seeking salvation.

˙⟡

He already felt selfish the first time you'd said his name. He's a greedy monster, for even considering to reach out a hand to stop you. But all that this body can do at the moment, is lean in to get as much contact as possible. A bolt of lightning strikes at the gentleness of a palm on his cheek, and the electric shivers shut down any protesting thoughts. Only the warmth of your presence matters here. For the first time ever, the world is quiet.

˙⟡

He seems satisfied with kneeling on the floor, and is no longer changing into concerning colors, as far as his face goes. The forearms, on the other hand… "Sweetheart? Could you tell me where you got those bruises, please?" A brief furrow of brows gets schooled back into neutrality within a second. You flick away a newly forming droplet as apology for breaking the silence, which gains a pleased hum. "Was sparring. Nothing much…" A reluctant mumble. The only person he regularly spars with is Sho, and even if the blond had managed to land a surprise kick or punch, they don't bruise like this. Time to play bad cop for a bit. "Sweetheart. These don't look like they came from a fight. What really happened?"

˙⟡

Every lie, no matter how few he's told you, always get caught. Angels really are all-seeing. Or was that just god? "Car jack gave out. Nothing's broken." He had sighed the confession, and at the moment, he hoped you wouldn't say anything. He hoped you'd never see him again, and he hoped that you'd look at him forever. He hoped that you'd leave right now, and he hoped that you'd stay in place together. The slightest glimpse of a worried face had his eyes screwing shut. He prayed you would forgive him for thinking about you.

Another hand joins to grasp his jawline. Both brows are caressed with feather light touches, and Alan fears he might go blind if he looks at you again. Pity would stab, and disappointment would kill. But this needs to be resolved, and your face as the last image his eyes see was already something desired late at night. The heaviest boulder in existence knocks the breath out of his lungs, and settles at the pit of his stomach with the vision of a smile. It's grounding, even with the helium replacing oxygen at the moment. "Alan." A fond voice. "You're important to me. Please, if you won't do it, let me take care of you. I want to."

What expression can a person make when witnessing a miracle? Disbelief? Wonder? What takes over is the clarity of acceptance.

All of the monstrous strength that came with an infernal encounter is stripped away. It's scary, but you're here. "Okay." And weakness takes over, all power spent to lean on clothed thighs. He can't bring himself to stain you with touch, but those thoughts melt away when his hair is blessed by soft caressing. "You're so beautiful. I want to look at you for the rest of time."

˙⟡

A sound of confusion for your statement. His dark eyelashes glitter with dewdrops, and you can't stop speaking now.

"Soft lips," Your thumb swipes at the slightly cracked, yet plush lower lip. A swipe of tongue wets it just after being released.

"Pretty eyes," It continues to travel just below the lashline. Fluttery movement gives a kiss of thanks.

"Handsome nose," Eyes cross when his gaze follows the movement trailing the bridge of it. His heartbeat follows the rhythm of the words being spoken.

"Cute ears," A new, softer blush settles all over as the piercings move lightly when you fiddle with his lobes. This may cause a problem.

"A lovely neck," The problem is rising faster than expected, especially as your hands trail to his clavicle.

˙⟡

"Wait." A last attempt to stay sane. There's already a strongly contrasting hardness to the softness you're offering, and he can't let it break whatever image you have, even if it's false. Now, to choose. How does he hide it? Shuffling his knees was clearly the wrong answer, as your keen eyes already stare down. Damn it. "Sweetheart?" Eye contact is out of the question right now, so a nod will have to do as acknowledgement. "Would you let me admire you more? Hah? You clearly saw the, well, his excitement? But your expression hasn't soured, like it should've. "If you want to continue, just nod. I'll take care of you. If you don't, just shake your head. We can do something else. We could have dinner or watch a movie."

Alan's not that smart, but this question would be difficult to answer, even with all the wisdom in the world. You seem to notice the hesitancy to choose. "I would like to sleep with you, Alan. I want to do everything nice, unpleasant and boring with you, for the rest of my life. You deserve everything good." Static fills the room. "I love you." And there's only certainty and affection in your eyes. Your face. Your whole being. So, he'll believe in you.

With little movement, he accepts. Alan is glad he did, as the smile on your lips widened, and met the one on his. Soft lips… and a flavor of peach. A marathon is easy work, but the kiss has him gasping for air after 10 seconds. "Don't wanna hurt you." That would shatter him. "I know you won't. If you're scared, just grasp your hands together like this. Okay?" Your hands bring his own together to something like a prayer. Fingers lapping over the others. It's fitting, in this building and position, in front of you.

˙⟡

A wordless instruction makes the man move, to face your place on the bed. He's tall, even like this, and the head of dark hair almost reaches to chest height. All attention is concentrated on the movement of hands trailing from knees to tied waistband. A hitch of breath can be heard when the knot is pulled open. Cute. "Come a bit closer, okay?" Even with the wonders of the anomalous world, you've never seen his eyes shine quite like this, as the clothing moves to uncover your intimacy.

˙⟡

Alan's mouth is both dry and filled with drool at the same time, and is swallowed down slowly. This is like a familiar dream, but a tightening of the left hand assures it's real. A motion of recently bared leg makes him jump, then sigh with relief as it settles between his own, and a gentle hand guides him to rest on the top of your thighs. Even if clouds can't be touched, the silkiness is what he's always imagined the texture to be like anyway. The sudden rocking motion of your calf against his erection pulls a deep gasp, but gets suffocated by hiding his face in the valley formed below.

˙⟡

A groan forms when you keep repeating the motion, and he finally lifts his head to seek mercy. Even through the thick uniform slacks, his size is clearly significant. So, in order to prepare, your left leg remains in place for his hips to keep grinding against, and the right is lifted up on the bed. "Wanna eat me out?" There's already a faraway look present, but it's broken with the question. An eager nod gives the sign for needed instructions, and you move his head to look where the white of the t-shirt ends. Just as you're about to explain, a broad tongue interrupts by settling on the opening and dragging upwards. It takes a moment to gather your words back from where they left with the sigh caused by that. "Just like that. Focus on that spot, yeah?" Index, middle and ring fingers help point to the gathering of nerves. "It's really sensitive, and makes me feel good. Get me to cum once, and we'll move on. Okay, sweetheart?" There's a growing want to squish his cheeks, and that's what you do, before clutching the sheets to stay grounded.

˙⟡

The taste is salty, but not like sweat, or even tears. It's really good. Tough to keep going though, as when his tongue digs deeper to get more, the distracting movement below starts again. Hah… really concentrating all focus on continuing his mission, Alan squeezes his hands together for some clarity. Trailing back up to the point that had been highlighted, your leg moves a bit stronger against the drenched fabric. It felt good… but he needs more of everything. So, wrapping his lips where his tongue stopped, a harsh sucks triggers a moan of satisfaction. You liked that… so the action is repeated, again, and again, with the feeling of pressure building up on both sides. Every nerve is on fire, all senses are stimulated. Scent, taste, touch, hearing, and even sight as he catches your pleased expression even through blurring eyes.

˙⟡

He's making so much noise down there… A pleasant jolt strikes that thought down as the wet muscle starts lapping up slick before it can drip down. Rewarding Alan with a different angle to rut against, the slightly coarse appendage goes even deeper, with the bridge of his nose hitting a sensitive spot. Both of your hips are stuttering as an oncoming sign of being close to the finish line. There might not be experience on his part, but determination is clearly enough- he gives a loud groan as response to being squished between your thighs.

˙⟡

Just a bit more. Hands squeeze together even tighter. Just a bit longer until… The pressure is increasing in the pit of his stomach, just above where he can't stop his hips from rolling. Needs more of this… And another harsh suck coats his tongue with more of your flavor, and a last movement against each other sparks a flash of light that knocks him out for a few minutes.

˙⟡

Just barely awake, the man is drooling in your lap with heaving shoulders. His focus is starting to come back, after a few minutes of getting to play with his surprisingly soft hair. There's still a twitching motion against your calf. "Good job, honey. Thank you." What an adorable smile he gives after a few kisses against his forehead. You'd give him a thousand more, every day. "What-uh, what's next?" This shade of pink fits him so well. "Sit on the bed, okay?" After a moment to process the request, he settles against the sturdy headboard. You take the opportunity to shed the last piece of clothing to some dark corner of the room. Now, to uncover him…

˙⟡

Alan was already satisfied once, but the sight of your bare chest somehow gets him even harder. He's managed to keep his hands together all this time, and not even a hint of bruise red can be seen on you… It worked. Good. "May I undress you?" You're glowing. It's easy to picture snow colored wings to frame this image- right, all his clothes are still on. With a nod, one by one the buttons of his shirt are opened. The cool air sends shivers all over, but static takes over with your fingers trailing the path down to the waistband, which is completely drenched by now. "Haaaahhhhh…" The warmth of a palm sends out a shockwave, a complete opposite against the cold fabric. He leans back, and sets focus on the ceiling. A button opens, followed by the zipper. Now, the last thing covering him is a pair of dark gray boxers. "Lift your hips a little, please?" Immediate action is rewarded with freedom, as the clothing is pulled down. A sigh of relief… broken by a low moan from himself, as a soft hand wraps around his dick.

˙⟡

Huh. The flushed tip nearly slapped his own belly button, and the shaft itself struggles to stay up under it's own weight. Alan's nearly crying… He should cry a bit more, in your opinion. Not from sadness, though. From pleasure. With only the unbuttoned uniform shirt and vest remaining, they've shifted aside to reveal muscle cushioned by smooth flesh. The skin under your index finger shivers, and then jumps as when it reaches a pebbled nipple. Satisfying. Crossed hands rest just below his heaving ribcage. "Alan? Lay down, so your head is on the pillows, okay?" Did you just hear a whimper?

˙⟡

You're settled just above his dick, which has started to twitch to the tune of a thundering heartbeat. So much is happening, and already has happened, yet it feels peaceful. The hands that brush against his chest feel more intense than a thousand beatings, and he's comforted by it. Hah- you're grabbing his dick. Okay-

All coherent thought leaves Alan's head immediately. All he can do to stay on the mortal plane right now, is to clasp his hands together even tighter. His abdomen caves as tears well up. He might die right now. Just a glance down- you're not even halfway down, but the pressure is at 80% already. Haahh.

˙⟡

He's shaking like an autumn leaf right now, and there's a few teardrops rolling down already. Almost there… The burn of the stretch is noticeable, but not impossible to handle. Certainly worth it for this view as well. Huh? A look back up confirms it. Soundless cries are accompanied by tears and a heaving chest for each movement you make. The two of you are almost completely connected, so… you drop down the rest of the way. A warm feeling gathers inside you, and it's not just the emotion of love.

˙⟡

Can't see anything but stars… Ah. Is that ceiling…? Was it a dream? Where- Still here. A white ring has formed where you stretch around him. Focus. Focus on your hands. Okay- so unfair. Both of your hands are playing with his chest, squeezing, rolling, and pinching. Alan realizes he might, and most likely will, pass out very soon. Working out hasn't helped in the slightest with this situation. The room is a bit dim, with the only sources of light coming from the kitchen and faded sunlight through the window, but they illuminate your silhouette. The unshed tears left make everything a bit hard to see, but the halo crowning you is clearer than anything could ever be. "Alan." A distant voice echoes.

˙⟡

He's silent, but reacts with a smile. Not the usual, subdued one. This one shows off sharp canines, and his brows aren't furrowed, but instead relaxed, despite the flowing tears. There's no prettier smile in existence, you realize. Or sight. Or sound, which is the low groan he makes in harmony with the first roll of your hips. Love and lust may be clouding the air here, but it's the truth to you. Flushed cheeks, comparable with rosy afternoon clouds, and tears, to rival stars in the cold night. Alan's chest heaves with stutters at the feeling of velvet dragging him to heaven. Pressure builds back up with each up-and-down, and as much as you'd like to keep staring at him for days on end, there's no stopping now.

˙⟡

Alan's not a masochist, but the pain that increases with each moment closer to another orgasm feels really damn good. He lifts his head in hopes that you'd give another kiss. Was it said out loud, or did you hear his prayer? Not sure, but the sweet kiss you set on his lips is so fulfilling, his eyes roll back, and he manages to reach ecstacy yet again.

˙⟡

You can feel his body shudder and relax with a final groan. And with a couple movements, you join him in the bright light that only appears behind closed eyes.

˙⟡

It takes a good ten minutes of breathing to even consider moving. The silence gives a good moment to admire his sleeping form. Alan really looks like an angel. But, instead of wings, dark eyelashes flutter with each light touch to his jawline.

Unfortunately, the need to drink water keeps growing. The motion to get off of his hips is stopped by a large hand on your thigh.

��those pleading eyes are lethal.

#tkdb #tokyo debunker #tokyo debunker x reader #alan mido #alan mido x reader

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hey-august · 6 months ago

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Putting Buggy in my favorite tired old romcom trope and imagining him trying to set up a „perfect“ date where he tries his best to come across as a well mannered, bright, conventionally handsome gentleman, because he thinks that’s what YOU would want him to be. He knows he scored this date out of pity, but once he’s done with this evening, you’ll see him as more than a joke of a man, he can do it!

Cue slapstick scenarios en masse, causing him to loose his temper at least once, trying to impress you with a fact that YOU correct him on and that’s just so obviously wrong and an accident that leaves him with only half an eyebrow, singed tips and the wax nose (ESSENTIAL TO HIS PLAN! If he could get rid of that eyesore in the middle of his face he may have had at least a snowball chance in hell with you) to finally abandon ship and melt right of his face.

And you’re enjoying yourself tremendously. You had your doubts when Buggy came in looking so unlike himself, trying to be something he’s not, but now? After all that chaos and one candle accident later? Now that you’re sharing the bottle of wine he snagged before hauling out of the fancy place he tried to wine and dine you at, sitting on the beach laughing about everything and nothing? Perfect date. Would do again. You absolutely love that clown shit.

ADORABLE. PRECIOUS. LOVELY.

LET'S EXPLORE THIS CONCEPT SOME MORE, ANON.

WC: ~800 Warnings: buggy x GN!reader, some profanity, drinking, that's about it

Of course it’s a pity date - that’s the only reason you agreed so readily. It’s definitely not because Buggy blurted out the question before you had a chance to ask him on a date. And the way you choked on your drink? That had to be because you thought it was a joke. Not because you were surprised and excited.

Let’s not talk about everything leading up to the date itself. Like how all his “good” shirts were dirty or wrinkled. One smelled like old hot dogs. So he had to borrow a shirt and it was fine. Kind of plain, though. Not flashy. Plain white cotton, but at least it fit.

And his hair. A low ponytail would suit the occasion. Hopefully you wouldn’t notice his greasy roots. Buggy ran out of time to wash his hair because of everything else he was working on. Mainly the nose. He sculpted it out of wax and it looked… It would probably look alright during a candlelit dinner.

Buggy just needed to get through the dinner, prove himself as a decent guy, score a second date, maybe a kiss or two, and that’s all. Not too much to ask for, right?

Well…he forgot to bring you flowers. He showed up empty handed (except for the sweat collecting in his palms). You didn’t say anything, but he’s certain you noticed and were adding it to The List of Failures. And that’s only the start of his panicking.

Next, Buggy demanded a table. That table. Yeah, the one that is already occupied. Fine, okay, this table is alright. He wanted the darker corner since it was more intimate (not so he could hide his nose or the sweat stains in his pits), but whatever.

Then he demanded the good wine. The real shit, not that cheap boxed shit. And he can tell the difference! Which is true, Buggy is a boxed wine connoisseur. Well…here’s the thing. Smell and taste are tied together, and that wax nose was more decorational than practical. Some words were had over the wine, before the sommelier brought over a dusty unopened bottle for Buggy to inspect and give gruff approval for.

You tried to interrupt and say the other wine was just as good (and far less expensive), but Buggy was too eager to please and too nervous to back down.

The rest happened in a blur. Buggy doesn’t remember much. He might have talked over the waiter explaining the day’s specials. He definitely kicked the table a few times while trying to sit comfortably. Maybe he laughed a little too loudly and another table told him to be quiet. And maybe he threw a bread roll at that table.

Buggy definitely remembers knocking over your glass of water, though. It was an accident. He was reaching for your hand for some dumb reason and your drink got in the way. Of course he wanted to help, so he leapt out of his chair, kicking the table yet again, and pretty much threw his napkin at you.

And in this chaos, he must have leaned over the table too long. Over the tealight. Even though it was a small candle, and it was only a few seconds, his glob of wax was ready to make a grand exit. It was already barely clinging to his sweaty oily skin, and this was the right time to just -PLOP- right into a puddle of water on the table.

But here’s the thing that you’ll take to your grave. Seeing Buggy hunched over the messed up tablescape, hands over his face, and looking downright mortified and murderous - well, it made your heart pitter-patter.

Buggy looked like himself, for the first time that night. That “nose” was not really your preference, so hiding the middle of his face from view reminded you of how much you were crushing on the cute clown.

Dinner was over at this point. Staff was walking over, the table with an extra roll was also shouting for Buggy to be ejected, there was broken glass on the table. It was time to go.

Ending the night on the seashore was a much better way to spend your first date with Buggy. He had pulled out his red nose from a pocket so he could actually enjoy the wine. Surprise, surprise, it didn’t taste any better and he lamented not throwing it at the sommelier before leaving.

You’re glad he didn’t though. Because then you wouldn’t get to watch him drink from the bottle under the moonlight. His adam’s apple bobbing with each gulp. Drops of liquid escaping from the corners of his lips and starting a journey down. That white shirt was now unbuttoned (so his armpits to dry out) and rolled at the sleeves.

And, well - damn.

Buggy was definitely getting a second date and a few kisses. Maybe something a little extra for dessert.

#buggy fluff #buggy x reader #buggy the clown x reader #buggy the clown #buggy x you #x reader #buggy op #opla buggy #one piece buggy #hey-august buggy short stories

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notyourmamasdeerbat · 1 month ago

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It's WIP Wednesday, boys!

and girls, and theys, the gays, the slays- 💚🪷 ⚔️🛡️ Thanks for the tag @fenrelmercar ! My head hurts sooo bad right now, I'm treating it with the apple cinnamon tea that went cold like an hour ago. It was actually hilarious how many of you voted pregame Varric/Harding/Rook tavern downtime in my little poll a few days back. Just the sheer overwhelming landslide. So I am tapping that out to combine with the A Word with Friends prompt this week! Also, I have started yet another fucking WIP. Yes, I know it's a bad idea. Yes, I know I'm probably going to burn out. No I've not written more than two sentences in anything else. I'm actively checking on Chapter 6 of Carry the Dagger right now like it's a cat that may or may not have dragged something in from the fields. Uh. Enjoy what I can scrounge up for you here?

A Word with Friends: Mendacious (coming soon)

He shut his mouth. Lips white. Rook eased off him. Just a little. “What’s your name?” “Bethim.” “Bethim,” Rook repeated. “I can make this worth your while in one of two ways. One: I pay you a substantial amount of coin to tell me everything you know about your mysterious moonlight messenger; Or two: I let you keep all your fingers and toes, and walk away with whatever you give me to convince me to do that. Now, try to be frank. You know of the Agents of Fen’Harel? Or do I have the wrong house?” *** The Splintered Wheel was a broken down inn of rotting wood and thatch just off the road north of Wildervale. Crossing the Vinmark Mountains was grueling and treacherous, and most people needed to take shelter in the sudden weather changes of late autumn, when the rains opened up over the plains without warning and the Free Marches became more of the Free marshes south of the Minanter. The Splintered Wheel offered mostly dry bedding, straw floors that reeked significantly less of piss and ale than some other establishments, and boasted a second floor for patrons wanting to stay the night.

Rookanis/Veilguard Modern AU (title soming soon?) no i have no idea where this is going I woke up in a cold sweat at 1 am to get this on paper. I might scrap the whole thing:

Rook jogged their leg as they checked their phone for the hundredth time, standing on the curb with their yellow motorcycle helmet under one arm. Their motorcycle hummed idly, leaning on its kickstand by the curb until Rook absently punched the ignition key with the only amount of force the old sport bike seemed to respond to. The engine purred to a halt.

Phone lit up blank. Again, nothing.

“Dammit, Harding,” they huffed under their breath, turning to take harried steps onto the sidewalk, afternoon sunlight heating their brown leather jacket and their canvas backpack heavy over one shoulder. Rook ducked under the shade of the vibrant purple awning and through the gold detailed double doors of the charming old building.

It was tourist season in Treviso. Normally that wouldn’t bother Rook, only now their afternoon coffee breaks were whittled away by mile long lines of aviator glasses and pretentious sun hats. Cafe Pietra, normally so pleasantly filled by the scent of espresso grounds and baking bread (heavenly) was masked by cheap colognes and the cloying chemical sunscreens of unfamiliar patrons.

Rook stopped abruptly behind a woman’s obnoxiously patterned power suit. Grimacing, they paused and continued to jog their foot as they waited for the line to the counter to shrink. Their lunch break was only so long. It wasn’t fair to be annoyed every summer by strangers, maybe they ought to be getting more sleep. Somewhere closer to the menu hanging over the counter and written in cheery chalk-marker, a young child started to tantrum.

Rook’s eye started to twitch.

A few deep breaths drowned out the noise and the crush of the lunch crowd and the packed round tables crowding in on all sides. Rook leaned out of the way of a passing qunari, who was shepherding a beautiful young elf under his arm with infinite care. He exchanged with Rook a tight-lipped ‘so sorry’ kind of smile as they squeezed out towards the doors, and the brief relief of seeing the elf woman laughing at something he had said and the acknowledgement of morality in the cramped space made Rook feel a little lighter. They tried to take another deep breath and be patient, still jogging one leg in place, helm under one arm and phone in hand, waiting for the buzz.

“Rook!” Came a familiar, flirtatious croon. A man rose from where he’d been holding court at one of the small tables, abandoning his audience near entirely to open his arms and squeeze close to Rook’s side.

Rook burst into a wide grin, fueled by surprise and delight in equal measure as they adjusted their helmet on their hip. “Illario! Good to see you. Happy Tuesday.”

“Happy Tuesday indeed, if you are here.” He squeezed their shoulder and threw out one of his perfectly white, winsome smiles. “Some crowd, hmm?”

“Yes, what is going on?”

“Music was promised, I believe. A performer from Minrathous.” Illario shrugged an elegant shoulder. “The Cantori family is hosting, as usual. Drew in a big crowd off the morning train.”

“I see. You’re in a meeting?” Rook frowned. “Don’t let me keep you.”

“Not at all. I was growing bored.” Illario shuffled forward with Rook a few steps as the line inched. “They can go on without me for a few minutes. How is your work?”

“You don’t care about my work,” Rook laughed, grinning sidelong at him.

“No,” Illario hummed, tutting. “It is a pity I can’t find your dusty old artifacts more interesting. But! I thought I’d offer you the courtesy of small talk. Unless you’d like to discuss the weather? Or is something else weighing more heavily inside that handsome head? You’re twitchy,” He grinned, folding his arms in his blue satin shirt.

“That obvious?” Rook tamed the immediate flush that warmed their cheeks with determination. ‘Do not flirt with Caterina’s grandson.’ Strife had said it less like a warning and more of a clause, a demand in a contract. ‘I don’t care what happens, what is said–. If we lose our funding because of some messy tabloid scandal, Rook, so help me gods–’

“What have you found?” Illario leaned forward, almost eagerly, glacial blue eyes bright.

“You don’t care, you said.”

“But you do! I like that look you get in your eyes when you launch into some adventurous tirade of betrayal and civil unrest in elvish bygone days. What is it this time? Shards of broken pottery? Scraps of a general’s loin cloth?”

“Illario,” Rook warned half heartedly, hiding their smile as they craned their neck to scan the menu– despite having every order already memorized or written out in their notes app.

“You must be very tired of kneeling in the dirt and sweating all day. But you wear it well. I think you deserve a break. Somewhere cool, with thinner, finer fabrics–”

“Oh, enough,” Rook laughed, blushing in earnest now.

“Why?” Illario cooed, scenting victory on the air as he grinned. “You’re pretty when you blush.”

“Yes, and you’re always pretty. Go away.”

Illario sucked his teeth, chastised, and snapped his fingers across his body in a bouncing gesture of dismay. “Rats. No witty retorts today, then? No joust of compliments? I have been looking forward to Tuesdays.”

“I hear you,” Rook said with a bob of their head, still pretending to scan the overhead menu so they didn’t have to meet his sparkling, intelligent gaze again.

Illario Dellamorte was an infamous cheat, flirt and uncannily adept gambler– known throughout the city’s nightlife as a dashing spectre one with sense would best avoid (for fear of losing it) and cutthroat business man who represented family offices throughout Treviso. He moonlighted as a sought after male model in nearly every magazine Rook had seen since arriving in Antiva in the spring. By day, he was also the spoiled grandson of Caterina Dellamorte, chairwoman of several luxury hotels, chief operator of three separate wineries (and one coffee farm in Rivain) and the respected owner of a large swathe of land along the beaches of Rialto Bay.

That land was being graciously lent to the Veil Jumper Archaeological Agency for a five month long historical dig, half submerged in marine environment and yielding wreckage of qunari voyages dating back to the Storm Age and fragments of elven artifacts abandoned by ancient smugglers, lost to the reefs.

Illario would much rather chat up his grandmother’s clients or flaunt his impressive cheek bones on camera than negotiate contracts and file away emails. That had become increasingly clear when he’d first crossed paths with Rook in the past month- Tuesdays, where their schedules overlapped. He'd offered Rook his number. Rook had refused. Ever since, it had been an unspoken pleasure between them to exchange small talk and gossip in the breaths caught between meetings and lunch breaks, or the errands Rook ran for their team.

And turns out I do have some new crumbs from Chapter 6!

“I heard you’re going by Rook now.”

They stared into the face of the man they’d not seen in three years. Strife hadn’t changed at all. “Yeah. I am,” they said slowly. “That’s not supposed to be operational.” They pointed to the collapsed sentinel armor and its gilded joints and gears.

Anyhow, forgive the bad organization, this is pretty much a representation of the current formatting of my brain. If you made it this far, I kiss you on the forehead! Mwah! <3 Curious as ever to see what my lovelies are working on, art, writing or otherwise, share if you like! @nananarc @fenrelmercar @draco-illius-noctis @redheadsramblings @the-bear-and-his-sunbird @davrinsleftpectoral @blackwall-my-tiny-husband @hedwigoprah @sunny374940 @nevarrantorte @caughtnyact @seaglassmelody @strugglinggranola @jenn2d2 @palenecromaniac @thesummerstorms @andthekitchensinkao3

#batty writes #dragon age rook #da veilguard fanfic #dragon age the veilguard #illario dellamorte #coadi aldwir #ao3fic #carry the dagger #wip wednesday

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joltai-showa · 6 months ago

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This post is a reply to these two posts, so if you wanna see me go insane over how Kishimoto completely managed to fail at writing Obito aka the villain that was the main threat for the majority of Naruto and Rin, do check them out first.

So PSA before continuing reading this: I will be replying to both posts consequetevely, which means that there's likely gonna be a bunch of stuff repeated. I don't like to sound like a broken record, but so many of my issues with Obito, Rin and Obirin crash into certain stuff that it's important to bring it up whenever it is needed.

And yes, I really dislike Obirin. On a good day for me this ship brings me as much excitement as drinking plain room-temperature water and chewing on some stale soggy white bread. It's a ship of the worst variety to me - it's simply boring, a good awkward boy and a good nice girl who's entire life seems to revolve about being emotional support pillow for said boy. And that's on a good day, because the manga aka canon generally isn't having a good day when it comes to the writing of these two, so these characters and their ship as it stands in canon requires the reader to switch between ignoring approximately 90% of what Obito does and approximately 50% of Rin does to get to the perception of cutesy doomed love that Kishimoto desperately wants to peddle. If the reader does not follow what Kishimoto wants to tell them (but isn't capable of showing at all), then what actually ends up happening is two psychotic bipolar little maniacs blabbering about some senseless bullshit that results in about a hundreds of thousands of people dead for ABSOLUTELY no reason.

(and yes if you have never come across my posts previously, I am prone to swearing, it is not some sort of agression against you or anything, this is simply how I am used to writing my own analysis posts)

so let's start with @innovativestruggles points:

I have always been an avid obirin shipper, and as a feminist, people may question the contradictory nature of this.

I'll be completely honest with you, the fact that you were attempting to defend anything female character related in Naruto is already brave enough, considering that Kishimoto can not write a female character for his life. Almost all of them end up being entirely depended on male character's goals and desires, almost all of them end up following in the "designated important male character's" steps, they pretty much have no interests or goals of their own, just their guy. Rin is even worse than that, because she is not even a proper character, again, on a good day she is just a placeholder thing for a female character, and in general in the manga she is nothing more than a plot device, a function that takes actual characters like Obito and Kakashi and produces some sort of results with them while she acts as the supposed reason for their actions. I specifically say supposed, because Kishimoto wouldn't be himself if he did not write Obito in such a horrible manner that all three of Obito's bullshit mantras that he is producing after his reveal did not clash with his MANY MANY horrific actions.

Obito is in an incredibly complex character and alas, there is a reason why I absolutely love him. He is my favourite, has always been and will always be (also, he’s a villain and he’s hot). Though there are parallels between Obito and Naruto, it’s important to distinguish the nuances. Both characters had no family growing up (I am not going to count Obito’s grandma as she is an anime only character and not technically canon), had it tough at the Academy, disliked by a lot of people and technically an outlier.

Obito as a concept desperately wants to be a complex character, but Kishimoto needed him to go through a shitty redemption arc real quick, thus Obito ended up being reduced to a 1.5 dimensional character that has exactly three types of arguments:

endless boring yapping about Rin (which feels like 80% of what he speaks about. ever.) about 5 of same frames shoved into the reader's throat every time this happens. real fascinating stuff, especially when this is what happens for 30 chapters straight (I am not kidding, I reread Naruto from 599 to about 660s, my eye is twitching)

woah look the world is such a hell (*insert three pages of nihilistic bullshit*). seems to be a critique of the shinobi world, but when you look into it - no, this is just this 30 year old man throwing a temper tantrum against not the system itself, but something like "friends dying", "friends betraying", "just death in general". Nothing of actual value that would make him the supposed destroyer of the system and savior of humanity, no, he is acting like an absolutely delusional child. the fact that this particular character does this is riduculous and a fucking insult to the reader's intelligence, because this guy has NO FUCKING reason to be this swallow and, I would even say, idiotic. this man has commited way too many war crimes and is responsible for far too many deaths, directly or indirecly, to ever have the fucking right to have the same stupid rhethoric that Naruto has. I can only say FUCK YOU to Kishimoto whenever he pulls this thing out of his ass in an attempt to make any of Obito's actions seem justified. Obito literally never manages to pinpoint anything correct of the system's faults (AND GOD IS THE SYSTEM FAULTY)

actual abuser ramblings. I feel like I am about to become Joker whener this shit happens. Obito kills someone, or someone who worked under Obito kills someone de-facto on Obito's orders, something happens as a result of Obito's actions - AND OBITO, GRABBING RANDOM SHINOBI #1314146 LIKE AN ABUSIVE HUSBAND WOULD GRAB HIS WIFE, STARTS SCREAMING INTO THEIR FACES, ALL SATISFIED AND HAPPY "LOOK! LOOK! SEE WHAT A TERRIBLE THING HAPPENED! ARE YOU FEELING DESPAIR OF THIS WORLD? GOSH THIS WORLD IS TERRIBLE! BUT DON'T WORRY, I'LL FIX THIS. JUST STOP RESISTING ME AND ALL WILL BE FINE." and NO ONE in the manga EVER bothers calling out this bullshit, because that would make Kishimoto admit that Obito is not a poow liwwle baby boi🥺🥺🥺🥺that just lost hiw way🥺🥺🥺🥺and aktually onli wanted to be with his fwiends and become the Hokawe🥺🥺🥺🥺but an absolutely batshit insane piece of shit that has no hill to die on

And you think I am being overly dramatic with the whole "abuser talk", here's some lovely stuff from chapter 646

For context, Obito activates the Divine Tree that kills a bunch of shinobi after instantly sucking away their chakra. And then he has the audacity to say that shit while everyone's watching how Mr. Genocide turns their comrades into husks. And if you think that, well, this is just some randos, they are here to raise the stakes of this endless battle, but no, Shikamaru also almost gets sent into the afterlife while Obito is preaching "if you stop fighting, I won't kill you". Just what an awesome guy.

But I got off track, back to the reply. Post 599 Kishimoto goes fucking ham on the parallels between Naruto and Obito... especially the ones that weren't even there. Because he is perfectly aware that even with the whole delulu savior shit that Naruto gets by using talk-no-jutsu, if things are left as they were pre-599 (which pretty much includes only Kakashi Gaiden aka 239-244), Naruto HAS ZERO REASON not to cave Obito's skull in and drop this asshole's corpse somewhere in the nearest ditch. Kishimoto, starting with Obito's reveal, adds more and more shit for Naruto to latch on, because otherwise what we have is a protagonist who pretty much doesn't have any companions who didn't get their lives completely fucked over by Obito, not too mention that 99% of Naruto's suffering comes DIRECTLY from Obito's actions.

So let's look at these GREAT parallels, which, thankfully, Kishimoto decided to put out in one monologue of Naruto's in chapter 653

neither knew their parents

correct, but a very simple a short question from me🥰so who is the reason for Naruto never knowing who his parents were? Who was such a meanie to take away Naruto's family? Who put fucking bombs on him 5 minutes after his birth?

(chapter 501)

Oh, right. The poow liwwle baby boi who only had Rin as his light and just dreamed about becoming Hokage.

I will go off track again, because the manga itself brings it up, but it's another important thing that Kishimoto wishes his readers to lobotomize themselves about: the timeline

The murder of Kushina, the resulting death of Minato and the destruction of Konohagakure all happened 16 years before the events of Shippuden. For the sake of simplicity, Shippuden will be set in year 80 (after Konoha's foundation), so the attack took place in year 64.

Obito is 30 (I have seen that he is sometimes supposed to be 31, but 30 is easier on the shaky lore of Naruto) in Shippuden. The Kannabi bridge mission was supposed to be around the same age that team 7 had in OG Naruto - 12-13. So Kannabi happened in year 62-63. Meaning, that IN BEST CASE SCENARIO between Obito waking up at Madara's and

1) murder of his teacher's wife 2) battle to death with his teacher 3) murder of his classmate's mother (the woman that Obito kills before taking Naruto? Sarutobi Biwako, Hiruzen's wife. And Hiruzen is Asuma's father) 4) large-scale destruction of the village he, supposedly, wanted to become a Hokage of

is at best A YEAR, if not just a few months. Because, again, Obito was recovering for some time, then the whole Rin's death scene, and then Madara trained him and explained him the plan. According to Obito's flashback in 600s, Madara kills himself by plugging himself off the Hashirama life support, and only after that Obito starts the whole grooming Nagato for the plan and attacks Konoha.

I point this out because I have seen numerous times how the defenders of poow liwwle boi Obito try to deflect the blame for Obito's actions by claiming that Madara made him do this. Madara WAS DEAD during all of this shitshow. Moreover, as you will see later in this post, Obito repeatedly does things that are NOT aligned with the whole ideal world creation and salvation for everyone, moreover, they oftentimes CONFLICT with this plan, and just outright scream I AM A PSYCHO WHO WANTS TO COMMIT MASS MURDER FOR SHITS AND GIGGLES

First of all, yes, let's admire how righteous and totally not maniacal Obito looks at the moment. "Do you know how long I have waited for this" MY ASS SHUT UP you're a cringe 14 year old. Secondly, let's hear out his wonderful plan, which is "gonna extract Nine-Tails, gotta crush Konoha". And while the first point does correlate with Eye of the Moon - they need the Tailed Beasts, after all - but then in Obito's flashbacks we learn THAT NAGATO WAS NOT ON HIS SIDE YET. THE GUY WHO CAN CONTROL GEDO MAZO AND STORE THE TAILED BEASTS IS STILL NOT WORKING WITH THEM. WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU ATTEMPTING TO STEAL NINE-TAILS THEN?? WHERE ARE YOU GOING TO PUT HIM??? Oh, maybe Obito kept a close eye on Kushina and realized that she was soon gonna give birth, which would be the primary opportunity to yoink Kurama? WRONG. OBITO BY SOME SHEER COINCIDENCE OVERHEARS KAKASHI TALKING ABOUT THIS OVER RIN'S GRAVE. HE THEN PROCEEDED TO KNOCK OVER THE FLOWERS ON HER GRAVE AND THEN ATTACKS KONOHA. HOW THE FUCK IS IT HELPING WITH THE PLAN???? YOU'RE JUST GIVING THEM 29847238 OPPORTUNITIES TO RECAPTURE THE THING????? YOU'RE ATTRACTING THE WORLD'S ATTENTION TO THE FACT THAT SOMEONE'S OUT THERE TRYING TO GET THEIR HANDS ON THE TAILED BEASTS??????

So, obviously, there is zero rationale for Nine-Tails' attack from the plan perspective. Well, maybe it alings with Obito's ideals, whatever the fuck they are? Obviously, glasses Obito would never do anything like WIPING OFF HIS AND HIS FRIENDS' HOMES OFF THE MAP and kill his dear sensei's FAMILY. MOREOVER, Rin fucking DIES trying to prevent Isobu from being unleashed on Konoha and decimating it, so what does our poow liwwle lover boi does? That's right, he pulls out Kurama and decimates the village only a some months after Rin died trying to protect it from the very same thing happening. Oh, wait, Kishi, so did she see that while in Pure Lands or not? Or does she have selective vision?

And mask Obito can be rationalized to do this by saying "oh, he's just showing the people the DeSpAIr", but again, this contradicts the manga with Obito saying "I don't care about this world yada yada", there is nobody who exactly would become targets for this campaign (Obito's endless speeches in 599 onwards are aimed at Kakashi/Naruto/etc) because we just see Obito interacting with Minato and Kushina, which would become despaired off the simple fact that Kushina is getting murdered by someone extracting the Tailed Beast, the village being crushed is just something on top that literally endangers his little precious plan more than it achieves anything. Is Obito ever shown to regret this as a stupid stunt or as act of terrorism against the village he supposedly love? NAHHHH WE CAN THROW IN OUR 20TH RIN FLASHBACK

Oh, and the timeline thing is important for another reason: poow liwwle boi defenders like to say that Obito went through so much and had witnessed the DarKneSS of the shinobi system, which is the reasoning for him going crazy and attacking Konoha. Obviously, this is bullshit, because the poow liwwle baby boi had no time to see anything about the grander shinobi system, he had been with Madara for several months with Madara being mildly ominous in the background and saying the most vague evil shit imaginable (before Obito runs off for Rin and Kakashi, he is still believer in the power of friendship and such, and the manga shows them having a whole wooping 1 conversation), then he witnessed Rin die, instantly became evil and commited a massacre (so much for cutie patootie liwwle boi), and then goes off to learn the plan from Madara and train to become as powerful as he is during Obito vs Minato. Even if I ignore the shitty writing that is supposed to suggest that Obito HAS ALL OF THESE IMPORTANT REALIZATIONS outside of the main plot, the timeline simply affords no place for him to comprehend the evils of the shinobi system. So yes, Obito is literally going off his anger over Rin dying and something something Minato being on another mission something something Kakashi (because there is two versions of the things Kakashi did that Obito is supposed to see, but Kishimoto conviniently shoves that little problem under the rug, god forbid we have any actual emotional interaction from Obito's character that doesn't involve the whole lazy Rin bullshit).

So, we are just on our first simularity between Obito and Naruto, and we already see that Obito's poow traumatized baby boi narrative falls apart when we decide not to go for the lobotomy Kishimoto wants, but instead realize that a) Naruto should punch Obito's skull open for ever mentioning his parents b) Obito is a mass murdering maniac with zero excuses and zero remorse

so let's continue with the parallels, shall we?

had it tough at the Academy

Now you're simply projecting Naruto's issues onto Obito. We have exactly two pages of Obito in the Academy years, and they are from chapter 599

And the thing that you are claiming as "him having it tough in the Academy" is.... him arriving late at the entrace ceremony in the Academy, Kakashi sighing at him, others kids just going back home, and Rin bringing him his entrance papers. Sorry, who is giving him a tough time here? Kakashi sighing? Kids who likely meet him for the first time not interacting with him? The Academy not waiting with finishing the ceremony because one kid is late?

Yes, this scene does show Rin being nice to him, but nothing more than that. I am not sure how old exactly the kids are in this scene, but considering Kakashi would graduate at 5, I would say that it's about 4 years old? Obito would go on to graduate at 9. A five whole wooping years that are completely not covered by this first scene.

(chapter 1)

And coming back to Naruto's issues at the Academy - Naruto was a delinquent that drew poop on the Hokages' faces AND he failed the graduation exam two times already, meaning that by 12 years old he got held back quiet a bit. He also has this little problem called being a jinchuriki, of which most parents are aware, and explicitly tell their children to stay away from him.

Obito graduates at normal time (9 years), similarly to Rin, Kurenai and Asuma. The only outliers would be Kakashi and Gai, both of whom would become two of the strongest ninja in their entire generation. Obito didn't cause trouble, in fact, it's repeatedly said that he helped the elderly around (and according to his own words even KNEW all of old people in Konoha when he meets Madara). Nobody in the village is ever stated to have anything against Obito, he's just an orphan from the Uchiha clan.

Literally nothing suggests that Obito had it tough in the Academy

disliked by a lot of people

Again, there is little confirmation of that in the manga.

Does his clan hate him? If so, why? There is no confirmation of this, moreover, Kishimoto keeps Obito's plot line and Uchiha's so apart it's actually absurd, but nothing in the story suggests that they should hate him or even simply not care for him. This is again in contrast to Naruto's own parents, because his Namikaze lineage was hidden (regardless if there were even relatives who could have taken care of him) and Uzumaki clan was decimated some time during the Third Shinobi World War, scattering the small amount of remaining members across the globe.

Do the villagers hate him? If so, why? There's also no evidence of that, on contrary, he was very friendly and helpful to the elderly around the village, so it would not be strange if a few of them were looking out for Obito. Obito has an annoying habit of coming late and being a bit of crybaby, but that wouldn't be enough to make the villagers dislike him. Unlike Naruto who is the vessel of the nuke that ravaged the village just 12 years before he learned of the reasons behind his mistreatment by the village.

Do his classmates hate him? Again, nothing is known about his Academy years except for one singular scene where he just meets them, but 599 also shows us some more interactions between him and the other kids in his generation... during the chunin exam

Do I even need to comment on how this is not anyone disliking him? This is just how competition goes.

Oh, and there's also a bunch of other minor things in this chapter, but I think it's a good time as any to introduce them😇

This. scene. right. here. It pisses me off to no end. You wanna know why?

Because this is the FIRST time we get Obito's Hokage's bullshit.

That's right, you aren't mistaken. The original Obito introduced to us in Kakashi Gaiden (239-244) NEVER EVER states that he dreams about becoming Hokage. He says stuff about how shinobi should act, he says how he's gonna become strong and tough once he awakens his Sharingan, he says how he is gonna protect Rin and others, he says how he is gonna see the future with the eye he gave Kakashi, etc etc. BUT NOT A SINGULAR MENTION OF HOKAGE BULLSHIT.

Kishimoto, for some mysterious reason, never introduced this CORE part of Obito's character (to the point Naruto literally yaps about JUST IT when he enters Obito's inner world thanks to the power of plot) when writing the original Obito, but the moment he needed to do the whole reveal thing and the shitty redemption arc in 30 or so chapters for a guy who's been our main villain for almost 300 chapters - oh hell yeah in 599 Obito gets the same fucking dream as Naruto, because otherwise Naruto has 0.0000001 reasons not to beat up this piece of shit. So, again, FUCK YOU, Kishimoto.

Right, what I was on about? Ah, Obito's classmates. So there's a bunch of other scene where Obito - HOLY FUCKING SHIT - is seen with someone other than Rin, Kakashi and Minato (very deep character, am I right)

And it's literally Obito being focused on Rin cheering Kakashi on (you know, THEIR TEAMMATE), so no interaction between the gang and him, and then later when we see them all planning gifts for Kakashi (who became a jonin at 13, A BIG FUCKING THING) while Obito is flustered because he was planning on confessing to Rin at that moment.

So, literally, the only person amongst his classmates who openly disliked him was Kakashi, who had a damn stick up his ass and wasn't really friendly to anyone (which we can see with how pretty cold to Rin and Gai he was at the time). And, of course, because we are dealing with Kishimoto, 239-244 Kakashi is a much bigger asshole than kid Kakashi in flashbacks post 599. Like, the OG Kakashi actually bullied Obito for his weakness, while the later one was mildly irritated at Obito's habits and carefree attitude.

So, in total: nothing suggests Obito was disliked by his family, by his village or by his classmates, except for Kakashi, who was just an asshole at the time, and his assholery varies depending on what Kishimoto needs for the plot to be.

Oh, and since we are on the topic of classmates: another magical lobotomy that Kishimoto expects the readers to have is for everyone to magically assume that never ever in his entire life Obito had friends EXCEPT for Rin. And I guess Kakashi for those 2 minutes before Kakko dropped that cave on their heads. Which, again, HAS NO BASIS in what Kishimoto actually shows us. Yes, Rin was the first person to support him, but he has known other classmates for almost 10 years before Kannabi happened, yet the plot acts like there were 0 interactions between him and others, which is... not how children fucking work? I can understand Obito feeling lonely because his parents are gone, yes, but then Kishimoto slam dunks on the readers' heads that UHM AKTUALLY NO ONE FROM HIS EXTENDED FAMILY CARED FOR HIM AND UHM AKTUALLY HE HAD NO FRIENDS EXCEPT FOR THOSE IN HIS GOVERNMENT ASSIGNED TEAM AND NO ONE FROM THE VILLAGE LOVED HIM which is a lot of stuff to shove down people's throats without giving a proper reason for this. People knew that Naruto was a jinchuriki, so they stayed away from him, Sasuke was extremely traumatized by the Uchiha massacre, yet we are magically supposed to believe that Obito falls into the same category????

(also let's also mention who is responsible for Naruto's and Sasuke's loneliness... ah right, Nine-Tails crush and the Uchiha massacre, both of which were fully or partially Obito's doing🥰)

Which is why this

(chapter 616)

scene is SO fucking funny even without the whole "Obito goes full angwy babyman and starts stomping his feet and screaming YEAH LOOK AT ME LOOOOOK I AM MAD AND ANGRY AND DEPRESSED BECAUSE I HAD FRIENDS SO YOU SHOULD BE MAD ANGRY AND DEPRESSED TOO while the rest of the Alliance is scrambling to survive and grandpa Madara is chilling in the background" because no you had NO connections??? Kishimoto is desperate to peddle us that bullshit about "Rin was the only person in Obito's life (for reasons I will not be explaining because I NEED this shitty redeption arc to kick off)" and regularly manages to forget that "Connections" imply number more than one, and Obito as he is given in canon at best has TWO, 1 for Rin who is a plot device and 0.5 for Kakashi and Minato respectively. And he is insistent on "Rin was my only light yada yada"... until Kishimoto suddenly no longer needs it

(chapter 651)

As a writer I am honestly amazed at sheer bullshitery and audacity of this scene. Kishimoto literally makes the plot gaslight Obito into "Hokage comrades Konoha good Hokage comrades Konoha good Hokage comrades Konoha good". Mind you, the Hokage thing was introduced literally during the masked man reveal, Obito had NO connections to speak of with his classmates because Kishimoto was SHOVING the idea of Rin being super special to him THAT HARD, he didn't give shit about any of these people for 16 FUCKING YEARS (!), Asuma is DEAD because of the merry band of terrorist that OBITO CONTROLLED (and that's after murdering his mother), Kurenai is raising Asuma's child ALONE, and IRUKA LITERALLY DOESN'T EVEN FUCKING BELONG IN THE SAME GENERATION AS THEM???? HE BECOMES GENIN IN THE SAME YEAR NINE-TAILS ATTACKS KONOHA???? OH YEAH, OBITO ALSO MURDER IRUKA'S PARENTS WITH THE NINE-TAILS INCIDENT????? WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK KISHIMOTO? WHAT IS IRUKA DOING HERE IN THIS BASTARD'S BULLSHIT FANTASY??????? ALSO IRUKA GETS THE SCAR DURING THE NINE-TAILS INCIDENT???????????? WHAT THE FUCK???????????????

Okay, I am taking deep breaths because I am feeling like I am about to lose my damn mind. But hopefully my argument about "Obito very much wants to be a complex character, but the plot has him be 1.5 dimensional one by ignoring 90% of what Obito did and does in the manga" becomes clearer. Obito's connections come and go as Kishimoto wants them, not because they organically come from the plot, and lack of said connections is never explained, which is why I honestly don't blame people for calling Obito obsessed with Rin, because Kishimoto does desperately tells us that no, Obito didn't pull these 16 years of mass murders because of Rin, there was a higher cause... but then fails to show us anything coherent outside of endless repetition of Rin, Rin, Rin

technically an outlier

And I fully agree with this, because at least that is directly stated in the manga

(chapter 240)

The only thing I think I might add to this is, I believe, during Sasuke's first flashbacks to his family, he and Itachi actually discussed the age of awakening the Sharingan, and I think they mention that 8 is about the time most people should have it? Which would indeed place Obito quite behind as he awakens it at 13, but considering the fact that it requries the user to get traumatized, is it really a bad thing? Lmao, I guess it's just teenage boys' dreams that I don't get

However, Obito never had an older mentor growing up, whereas Naruto did (that would be Iruka)

That really depends on what you consider "growing up". I can't say with exact certanty at what point Iruka became actively invested in Naruto's life (because Kishimoto kept rewriting things + this stuff is pretty vague at where I am looking for it, meaning chapter 1, Iruka is interested in Naruto's fate because both of them are orphans, so no exact indication when did it start. but. huh. I wonder who's fault for the two of them being orphans is that), but we do know that Obito graduated from the Academy at 9, meaning about 4 years he had a mentor in Minato, so his early teenage years are covered. Nothing exactly certain about the period before that, but yeah, sure, let's agree that implicitly the plot suggest a lack of mentor for Obito's childhood.

But another thing that, I believe, should be brought up, is the start of the Third Shinobi World War. I don't wanna repeat the lecture about establishing this date, but basically the beginning of it would be right around when Obito was 8, so yes, the general political situation had significantly worsened, and Obito would have probably started feeling the effects of the war enveloping the world, but Obito soon gains an older guiding figure.

Because neither of them had their families, Naruto was lucky that he had Iruka. Iruka provided that big brother figure, the mentor and in some ways a caring environment for Naruto, despite the hardships. Obito, however, did not receive any of this.

Naruto still lived alone in the state-provided flat with mountains of trash and ate ramen with expired milk, something to this extent. This is not to mention the villagers actively shunning him for being the vessel for Nine-Tails. Obito, meanwhile, is not confirmed to have these hardships in the plot, moreover, as I have explained, a lot of the things you mentioned are assumptions that clash with what is seen in canon. Unless, of course, we are putting Obito's perspective above all, and Rin and the others cheering Kakashi and Gai fighting while ignoring Obito is literally the worst thing ever, but this is straight up offensive to Naruto's experiences.

And also while we are on this topic let's return to Naruto's talk-no-jutsu here, yeah, the same one he had after the plot magically had Naruto learn Obito's memories, specifically the ones pre-Nagato grooming, pre-Konoha destruction, pre-Kushina murder, pre-overtaking Akatsuki, pre-overtaking Kirigakure, pre-Uchiha massacre, pre-Akatsuki jinchuriki hunt, pre-Sasuke grooming, pre-Konan's murder. Which. Wow. How convenient, Kishimoto.

So Naruto here explicitly says that OMG U R JUST LIKE ME FR when it comes to the Hokage dream (that Obito gains upon the masked man reveal as far as the narrative is concerned)... only he is literally pulling this out of his ass, because, again, if Naruto was not introduced to some new memories the readers didn't see, there is nothing suggesting Naruto's claim. This entire thing hinges on readers taking the lobotomy pill and ignoring the giant extended family Obito had + the elderly in the village and not asking for an explanation as to why Obito would feel this extreme loneliness that would require latching onto Rin that strongly. I can agree with "lonely because parents gone", but beyond that this is just Naruto using the power of plot to fix Obito's worldviews.

What Obito did have, was Rin. The two have been childhood friends for a very long time. Rin gave Obito that sense of security and attachment, despite them being the same age.

This is all very lovely and dandy, but you would need to find me a scene showing them being childhood friends. For this post I have reread all chapters starting from 599 and to about 660(?) where I gave up because the conversation between defeated Obito, Kakashi and Minato was causing me to overdose on cringe. And during this entire period the only memory that anyone had of the two of them being children is that Academy arrival scene. THAT'S IT.

Then we have the team Minato introduction scene, but it's obviously after they become genins, so 9 years old. There's also this scene:

But if you check the earlier screenshots, you will actually realize that Rin is wearing the kimono that she has during the chunin exam + she has Konoha's headband, so they are already about 10 years old (at 9 they graduated the Academy, at 11 they became chunins, but Obito didn't pass this particular exam). So the kids you are claiming to be such good childhood friends with Rin being the sole pillar of emotional support for Obito have a giant 5 YEAR LONG GAP, and with Rin only living to 14 THAT IS A LOT OF TIME MISSING.

And in the other scenes Rin is already wearing her chunin get-up, so they are both 11+ years by that point. Meaning that as far as canon shows, Rin was nice to him that one time during the Academy entrance ceremony when they were, like, 4, then we HAVE NOTHING until they become team Minato, and then we have an array of very similar scenes where Obito speaks about how he's gonna become Hokage and Rin looks pretty and nods along (an incredible show of personality, Kishimoto). And then we get to Kannabi where Rin seems as about as upset as Kakashi is, even if Obito, her supposedly best friend, GOT CRUSHED ALIVE and is begging her to get his eye out of his eye socket and shove it into Kakashi's still untreated wound. And Kakashi, as we know, didn't get along really well with Obito until like 15 minutes ago.

But then Rin does the single most psychotic thing imaginable: Obito gets finally crushed, her supposed best friend's body turns into tomato paste that they can't even pick up and will have to leave him behind on the enemy territory, and as Kakashi explains how Obito loved Rin and died for her, the girl opens her MOUTH AND STARTS CONFESSING TO KAKASHI.

DARLING CAN YOU WAIT LITERALLY LIKE 5 MINUTES BEFORE ANNOUNCING THAT? ZETSUS DRAGGING AWAY OBITO'S HALF-DEAD BODY CAN PROBABLY HEAR YOU THROUGH THE ROCKS. WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK, HE JUST DIED!

And, I understand, in Kishimoto's mind this is all probably very romantic and tragic, but to me this is just another example of Rin's character flipfloping between the cutesy innocent girl in team Minato and the single biggest psychopath known to Konoha in her generation and this is only because Obito's turn to dark side happened outside of Konoha.

So, in total: one interaction as children, numerous interactions in team Minato, but it's literally the same one with them doing the same things, and then the Kannabi bridge. I am sorry, but this is one of the worst executions of childhood friends I have ever seen, if they are supposed to be that way. And on THIS + Rin's flipfloping character that gains and loses cutesy girl characteristics depending on Kishimoto's mood is on what Obito's entire fucking arc hinges. Obito who would be by far the most prolific war criminal in the last 20 or so years of shinobi history😁

One final thing before moving on: it's actually the pictures that you mention later in your post

I don't really care if Obito is here trying to kiss a picture, he's a young boy, he does silly things. What I wanna point out is the pictures that Obito has, because to me they are VERY telling.

Kishimoto shows us 0 photos of Rin and Obito together, you know, the supposed childhood friends. The picture that he is trying to kiss is the one that they took as team Minato at 9 years old. He has a picture of his parents (thank god for Obito's mama cuz dad is giving 0 pretty genes lol), and then he has a bunch of Rin pictures, but the angle on them all is just off, like he is sneaking photos of her from far away, or when she doesn't expect that, or as if he is sitting in the bushes. All of them indicate very little closeness, like they haven't been, you know, childhood friends for years and did things together. Kishimoto gives them practically no mementos that would indicate that degree of closeness that the whole "RIN WAS MY SOLE LIGHT" thing is trying to convey, but god does he not save up on the scenes of Rin putting bandages on Obito.

Obito’s love for Rin transcended romance. Of course the romance was the overt part, but his love for her was his sense of security. She was his safe space. When a child grows up without love or care from a parenting figure or a mentor, they will find ways to cope and latch onto the closest thing they can find safety and comfort in. Rin took on this role. So when Rin was killed before him, naturally there would be a sense of deep despair and anger.

I will not be adressing the first half of this, because I believe I have made it very clear that Obito's attachement issues are very overblown with what is given within canon (unless, of course, we go into the whole Uchiha love/hate/curse bullshit, but to me it's Kishimoto's favorite crutch to fall on whenever the plot demands to know why the fuck is everyone tolerating Uchiha #13 yapping and doesn't call them out on their bullshit) and his friendship with Rin is shown very weakly, to the point I would say most of it is left to readers' imagination. That's wonderful that you found a ship that has this sort of transcended love vibe, but what I see is two characters literally strung together by the author for no other reason because mangaka needs that drama, one of these characters barely qualifies for a character and is moreso a plot device, while the other one COMMITS SO many crimes the whole "she was my light" bitching and moaning can go into the trash pile along with the man saying these things, because hundreds of thousands are dead for the delusions of this one guy.

What I do wanna talk about is Rin's death, because GOD this shit drives me mad for numerous reasons.

Firstly, let's insert Kakashi into the conversation, because Kishimoto twists himself into a pretzel just to somehow both justify Obito's turn to the dark side and Kakashi not being an utter piece of shit that kills his friends for the mission (because Kakashi is a fan favorite I guess and making him fully responsible for that murder is a step too far). This pretzel is so lovely that it actually creates TWO versions of events in Obito as a witness and Kishimoto... does absolutely nothing with the change in Obito's perspective. Which is absolute insanity.

So, we turn off our omnipotence as readers, and sit inside Obito's mind as he sets off for Kakashi and Rin surrounded by Kirigakure shinobi in 603 (this is the only information he has). The Zetsus later mention some experiment of Kiri, Minato being on a different mission, etc, etc. Obito doesn't understand the full context, cuz he's running for his life, and at that point he does witness Rin's last moments through Kakashi's eye

(chapter 604)

Huh, what an interesting expression Kishimoto chooses. Something in between betrayal, confusion and fear. Well, it wiil certainly correspond to what is actually going on, right? Right?

So Obito finally runs into the clearing and sees

Rin, standing still, looking scared and betrayed, while Kakashi pierces her heart, crying.

And so, Kishimoto in chapter 604 creates a pretty clear narrative: Kakashi and Rin were surrounded on a mission with Minato away, and, instead of protecting Rin like he promised Obito, Kakashi chose to put the mission above his teammate and killed Rin.

By chapter 605 Obito is already commiting the massacre of Kiri ninjas, who scream something about the importance of Rin's corpse, but ultimately no further context is given, so nothing much changes in Obito had witnessed on that day.

Wow, what a terrible thing to happen! Of course Obito would break and realize how terrible the system and by extention the world is, with Rin being killed for... oh wait, there's more?

And almost 25 FUCKING CHAPTER LATER we suddenly discover THAT THIS IS NOT AT ALL WHAT HAPPENED. And is it Kakashi who tells us his side of story? NO, OF FUCKING COURSE NOT, IT'S OBITO WHO DOES THIS. OBITO WHO'S ENTIRE FUCKING CHARACTER HINGES ON THIS ONE SCENE.

Rin did WHAT and was WHAT?

(I will not go into detail how Isobu being sealed in Rin COMPLETELY fucks over Blood Mist's timeline, that's a whole other separate rant)

So, A MASSIVE CHANGE OF PERSPECTIVE FOR OBITO: Rin chose this fate, Kakashi was doing everything in his power to prevent this, Rin somehow managed to gain enough speed and agility to overcome Kakashi's reflexes and THE FUCKING SHARINGAN to throw herself onto Kakashi's arm (yes, the very same girl who got abducted TWICE. I did mention her abilities flipflop depending on Kishimoto's mood), and Rin's death had a very certain meaning - to protect Konoha from being destroyed by a Tailed Beast.

(I also really love how Rin in 629 absolutely can not end up in the same pose she did in 604, thank you Kishimoto for your cheap manipulations)

So... this is a massive thing to happen. So how does Obito react to this upon learning? When does he learn this? How does this happen?

LOL. LMAO. FUCK YOU READER. (c) Kishimoto

Because it's just randomly shoved into the plot and ignored for the rest of the series, regardless of how it completely flips the relationships between team Minato, particularly with Kakashi no longer being an unfeeling traitor but rather someone who ended up in utterly terrible circumstances that he could not prevent and Rin... continuing her psychotic streak of "oh, Obito died? better confess Kakashi right above his still warm body" with "huh, I can't end myself, and I pose a danger to the village... well, I will certainly not entertain the possibility of finding my sensei's wife who knows all the most powerful sealing jutsu to keep the thing inside me in control, so suicide it is, and of course I won't go for any of the armed Kiri guys following us, I will do it using Kakashi, the boy I love. I am sure he will enjoy the image of me bleeding out on his arm for the rest of his life, especially with that promise that he gave to Obito". Another important thing that we learn that Rin REALLY loved her village, to the point of being ready to die for it.

And I will say what I think about this - you can not try to push the "cute innocent baby girl" narrative with SUCH a heavy decision done. This requires a lot a mental fortitude of someone much older and competent than the pure innocent light that Kishimoto tries to later portray her as.

But coming to the second point I wished to discuss and it is how Obito's entire interaction with the whole shinobi system completely crumbles with the change in these events, because the first version does show how messed up it is - Kakashi choosing the mission over a comrade, Rin's life being just a simple burden to the system, etc etc. But the second version of events OFFERS ABSOLUTELY NOTHING in regards to Obito's understanding of how wrong the system they are living is (contrary to LITERALLY any other antagonist in the series). Because Rin's death in the second version is a terrorist attack that Rin herself decides to prevent. You can have the most wonderful and humane system imaginable, with free healthcare, children being allowed to be children until growing into adutls, elections etc etc, and it would still not guarantee that people with nasty intentions from using power to inflict pain on innocents. And anybody could have ended up in Rin's place, if we are under assumption that Kiri simply wants to demolish Konoha with Isobu. The worst that could be extracted from this version of events is that Kakashi and Rin had to end up in this situation at all without adult supervision (which is moreso to Kakashi's part, because Rin in this scenario is just a bystander who got abducted to be used as a living bomb, and anyone from a cat to a granny could have been in her place), and Rin at 14 being able to make the decision to end her life for the sake of the village, but again this is also motivated by the actual danger she presents to the people around her.

All of the above is probably a good explanation as for why throught the entirety of 599 to 660s Obito can not formulate A SINGULAR good argument for the Eye of the Moon that would show the horror of the shinobi system except for "PEOPLE DIE - SAD", "PEOPLE BETRAY ALWAYS - ANGRY" and last but not least "YOU WILL BE JUST LIKE ME, GIVE ME A SECOND TO MURDER ANOTHER DOZEN OF YOUR COMRADES". I shit you not, the guy who was the one behind Blood Mist, witnessed the fate of Amegakure, was part of the Uchiha massacre, collected and personally knew members of Akatsuki, had been this amazing strategist and manipulator for the last 16 years CAN NOT say anything that wouldn't be about him being mad about Rin dying and how everyone's gonna be just like him fr.

The closest he ever gets to this is soon after Neji's death, remembering this wonderful thing called the cursed seal that the main branch of Hyuga would place on its cadet branch members regardless of their age whenever the current heir of the clan would turn 3, and this seal can also be used to inflict pain on the bearers by the people of the main branch. So essentially Konoha has a literal enslaving practices. Wonderful job, Hashirama. Well, what will our Savior and awesome guy will tell us about this practice?

Ah, he completely missed the point of why enslaving your relatives is bad. AND he is using it as a shitty Twitter-level gotcha that would sound like "LITERALLY 1984!!!1!" without ever bothering to read the book. God canon Obito you're such a loser.

Which is why I really can just barely chuckle whenever I remember that as the apocalypse is unfolding, hundreds of thousands are dead, and Obito gives up on the plan of his life after Naruto talks-no-jutsus him twice, Madara dunks on this entire comedy opera and reveals that HEY IT WAS ACTUALLY ME BEHIND RIN'S DEATH! and most of Obito's post reveal yapping goes completely null because it wasn't the system's evil (the faults of which he is never shown to understand), it wasn't this world's evil, it was Madara's evil that killed Rin😁

And that's overall a good commentary on the final state of the affairs in Fourth Shinobi World War - the majority of people aren't suffering because the system, the majority of people are dying because there's two Uchiha assholes with their convoluted bullshit that are killing people en-masse for their delusions, one of which was dead for the last 16 years, so yeah, Obito ain't running away from the things he commited with "boo hoo Rin was my sole light" which is immediatelly followed by this

WHICH IS THE ONLY ACKNOWLEDGEMENT HE GIVES OF 16 YEARS THAT INVOLVED DEMOLISHING KONOHA THAT KILLED HUNDREDS, THE ENTIRE AKATSUKI THING THAT ENDED UP WITH ALL MEMBERS DEAD AND LIKELY THOUSANDS OF SHINOBI AND CIVILIANS MURDERED WHILE THE ORGANIZATION WAS ACTIVE, THE BLOOD FUCKING MIST THAT HAD KIDDIE MURDER EXAMS, DEATH SQUADS AND EVEN MASSACRES OF WIELDERS OF KEKKAI GENKAI, THE MASS MURDER OF HIS OWN CLAN, AND LAST BUT NOT LEAST THIS ENTIRE FUCKING WORLD WAR WHERE HALF OF THE ALLIANCE IS ALREADY DEAD, SO WE ARE SPEAKING ABOUT 50K CASUALTIES AT LEAST

buuuuuuuuut Riiiiiiiiiin waaaaaaas myyyyyyyy soleeeeeee liiiiight😭😭😭

(also I suppose this is how Kishimoto deals with the whole "so hey at what point does Obito actually see the problems of shinobi system" thing, which is. hilarious. a tiny panel with a moon on the background.)

Okay, rambling over, let's return to the original post

A lot of people would say: “but he had Minato,” “he had Kakashi,” “he had Kushina.”

I find it a bit weird that you chose to exclude Obito's grandmother for being a filler and an anime-original character, but included Kushina here, because I do not remember a single instance of her interacting with Team Minato that happened in the manga and not in anime/video games

but they only came into his life for a short period of time. Their interactions were not on an intense level as it was with he and Rin.

Minato was in Obito's life for 4 years as we previously established, which is a pretty big thing for Obito's total 14 year old lifespan. And I am still not sure of what interactions that Rin and Obito shared that weren't "she held his hand, put a bandage over his cut and said with a serious tone that he shouldn't hide his wounds". Like, it would have been funny and cute if we were talking about 13 year old Obito, but with corpses pilied up, half of the world destroyed and 30 year old Obito? Please give me something better than a placeholder cutscene, I am begging you.

And again, very little indication of their interactions outside of team Minato, so question mark to the whole "long period of time"

Naruto however, had Iruka, who most likely taught him a lot of things about the importance of the village, the importance of camaraderie, friendship

But... Naruto is learning it over the time we witness him in the plot. And it happens while we watch him at 12. So I am not sure where the "Iruka taught him" argument is coming from.

And Obito was certainly aware of the importantce of the village considering HOW MUCH dialogue is spent on him declaring how he is gonna become a Hokage. If he missed that point while having that dream, I can't even say anything. Also, Obito from 8 to 13 was in a militaristic settlement that was in the middle of a World War, I'm pretty sure their education wasn focusing on working up that patriotism in the kids that would soon go to the trenches.

Naruto had his fair share of trauma but he had support that allowed for some resiliency.

Gosh golly I wonder who was responsible for all that trau-- I am sorry, I will stop, you get the point.

And also, no. Kakashi was in his depression arc and didn't interact with Naruto until becoming his sensei, Jiraya was out there somewhere shitfaced and probably collecting intelligence for Konoha, Hiruzen was just creepily watching him through his magic ball without Naruto's knowledge, and with Iruka it's unclear at what point did he start feeding Naruto and chatting with him outside of classroom, and even if that started as soon as supposedly Rin and Obito became friends, Naruto still was being shunned by the majority of village and starts having proper friends only during the plot, so 12 years old and onwards.

(and, again, there is no reason for Obito to be left stranded by the rest of the society, nothing written by Kishimoto ever indicates this)

Psychological intermeshment stems from traumatic upbringing in childhood (lack of nurturance from an adult caregiver, abandonment etc), and then again from losing their sense of security/safety (Rin in this case).

I like your point, and it is kind of something of a new thing to me, but again, the entire scenario of Obito's abandonment and latching onto Rin is hinging on the reader making the decision to remove that part of brain that considers these characters somewhere other than the vacuum. It is plain and simple bad writing. I really wish I could agree with your point, but it would mean ignoring almost everything that Kishimoto showed (and I am sure that he was desperate to tell us something along your lines, but he utterly failed in that regard).

So he did what he could to get that sense of security back, even if what he did was questionable.

EXCUSE ME? QUESTIONABLE? QUESTIONABLE???

Several months after Rin's death, Obito kills hundreds in his own village for no apparent reason because the action brings his plan no benefit. Does that mean getting back the security? Obito also kills the mother of his own classmate, never showing regret for it, before proceeding to put a kunai against a newborns throat and booby trapping him. Was he getting back the security this way? Obito also manipulates the leaders of original Akatsuki into doing his bidding and when the plan doesn't work, gosh golly one of them dies in an internal strife, which seems just so terribly convenient for him. Is being a manipulative and lying bastard part of his security blanket? He then also proceeds to put the Fourth Mizukage under his genjutsu and what followed was one the most brutal regimes shinobi world ever knew. Did he felt safe and happy becoming the reason for an entire village's and likely country's suffering? Said regime also included mandatory battles between children of Academy age, so 8-10 years old, and death squads that would kill anyone attempting to desert said regime, and the only profit that Obito got for his plan from this entire affair was Kisame joining Akatsuki. Well, surely, that seems like a mildly questionable thing to get his sense of security back, hm?

I am not even gonna bothering continuing, but I can make this paragraph twice as large without much trouble. Obito was not simply doing questionable things, he was an absolute genocidal maniac, and very much had a tendency for opportunistic murder, and a lot of the things he did have no explained or apparent reason.

Then you have the complexity of the curse of hatred that intertwines the storyline, which make things even more complicated. But this curse was what pushed the storyline and placed Obito as an antagonist.

As I have already stated, a cheap copout from Kishimoto to not bother himself with writing anything more complicated than a story for first graders

He did not start a war because of a girl. He started a war because he was angry with the way the world functioned. How the countless wars kept ending lives and taking loved ones away from people. He did not want people to go through what he went through.

LMAO. So, obviously, yes, the favorite argument provided with Kishimoto's own heavy-handed writing: "I did not start a war over a girl. I will only mention her fifty times. And think of only her whevener something major will happen to me. Fuck those people that I met over the last 16 years and who ended up dead because of my actions or my plan. They don't matter, only the people I spoke with when I was 13 do. And I will not be able to provide anything of substance whenever an opportunity to talk about the faults of the system will arise. Just general throwing hands in the air and dramatic mumbling about despair."

And rereading the manga, it is actually apparent that he can't produce anything about the shinobi system (because Kishimoto never ended up giving him a moment to understand this, duh), so he consistenly attacks the world for things like people dying in general, which, if you ask me, is the point where any and all discussion with Obito should have ended, because he is clearly absolutely delusional and, similarly to the war that HE started, it is a conflict between the humanity as it is surviving or this guy's delusions entrapping everyone.

How the countless wars kept ending lives and taking loved ones away from people. He did not want people to go through what he went through.

Damn, nothing says "I hate wars" like creating and controlling an international terrorist organization that specializes on taking the war business and spends YEARS doing random side-quests for money when your own plan has zero need for money, so you pretty much allow these bloodthirsty assholes to run amock. Nothing says "I hate wars" like sending said assholes into highly-populated areas to catch the jinchuriki when you are shown repeatedly to have the abilities to do so quickly and effiently, but nope, let's nuke Sunagakure, because "I hate wars". "I do not want people to go through what I went through", so I am going to have 8 year old children battle each other to death in the village where I took control, and if anyone tries to run away from that, I will have a death squad ready. Wow, I was so lonely as I child, but don't worry, little Uchiha, I am going to stab you and your family tonight, because I do not want you to go through what I went through. Oh, Sasuke-kun, hope you enjoy your new spacious home!

In essence, this mindset has villain written all over it, but it also compels a strong backstory for Obito because of his complex childhood upbringing and the trauma he experienced.

Trauma? Yes. Complex childhood upbringing? Maybe in some fanfiction, the canon is lackluster and has all the complexity of a third grader's math problem.

But people need to remember that he had a father who provided that nurturing environment for him. Even if his father died in tragic circumstances, Kakashi, though traumatised, was able to bounce back and push forward with the support of his friends and village.

These are not simply tragic circumstances, that's an 8 year old walking into his home and finding his father after he commited suicide. Your point about adult figures is a bit more appropriate this time with Kakashi, in my opinion, because Sakumo would kill himself when Kakashi was 8, and team Minato wouldn't become a team until Obito's and Rin's graduation when they were 9, so Kakashi ended up kind of being passed down from Sakumo and Minato. It still doesn't mean that it somehow alleviated Kakashi's condition, because we still see him holding onto these rigorous anti-Sakumo ideals during Kannabi bridge, all of which culminated in Obito's "death", so I am not exactly sure at what point the "bounce back" happens, because things get only worse for him with Rin and Minato getting killed. I don't even think Kishimoto actually shows us Kakashi getting back to it, all of it is coming from external sources that aren't written by Kishimoto? Kakashi just kinda loses everything and then we see him still staying alive and not following the allure of his dad's path. Kakashi has a lot of generic talk about friendship and comraderie, but I can't remember what exactly brought him back from losing everything that was related to his team? So he's a weird example to compare Obito against.

It all comes back to childhood upbringing and the presence of an adult caregiver/mentor.

And in example with Kakashi the adult mentor is also killed the second time and Kakashi loses everything. Again being saved by off-screen camraderie and power of friendship, and also general desire to continue spreading Obito's ideals. So, still a weird example.

That, and then again, the presence of the curse of hatred (which was why Sasuke was pretty fucked up despite coming from a loving family).

Curse of hatred is lazy bullshit and Sasuke was not fucking fine because one wonderful evening he stumbled upon his entire family massacred, then got tortured by his beloved brother after witnessing him kill their parents, and then he had to alive alone in the very same compound where his entire family was killed, and then his brother returned and tortured him again, now sending him into a coma. That's just some of the few things that come to mind when it comes to Sasuke being fucked up.

This is the reason why I do not ship Obito x Kakashi. To me there was no love, care and nurturing between those two. Obito “died” not long after being friendly with Kakashi, so that wouldn’t warrant a ship between those two. Whereas with Rin, it is a different story.

I don't particularly enjoy Obikaka either, but I can understand why people would ship it (unlike canon Obirin canon Obikaka at least has two characters interacting), however again this comes from a lot of stretching of canon to the limit. You have correctly stated that there was no proper friendship shared between the two of them (which I see Obikaka shippers debating), Kakashi is practically bullying him during Kannabi bridge mission, and when they finally did see eye to eye (BADUMS) it was like 5 minutes before Kakko dropped the cave on their heads. But what is fascinating between the two is what they symbolize to each other (and no, regardless of what Kishimoto is peddaling, I don't believe in any deep friendship and understanding between them during Fourth Shinobi World War, they are grown ass men who have lived with their plans and ideals for far too long + they haven't spoken to each other in 17 years), because Kakashi changes his entire life to accomodate Obito's habits (being later and such), Kakashi, in a sense, attempts to live out the life that Obito never got to live. And Obito... well, Obito's writing all over the place, so really this guy's interpretation is in the eye of the beholder and how much they are willing to ignore canon.

And like I said, just because of all this crap Obito’s been through, it does not excuse what he did or make what he did right (he was a villain after all).

One, it literally doesn't provide him with enough motivation for half of the deaths he had caused. Two, yes, the plot absolutely excuses him in the most ridiculous of ways, because poow baby boi upset that Rin dead. Don't mind poow baby boi using about a 100 opportunities to kill people when it went against his supposed morals and there was absolutely no profit to be made for Eye of the Moon, Naruto saw 30 year old poow baby boi being sad and dreaming of becoming Hokage when he was 10, he certainly deserves redemption arc.

And thank you for reminding that that post-Obito death scene exists, my night is absolutely ruined because now I remembered this "How to never write a female character" scene, with Rin finally rejecting her premise as a character and embracing her role as a plot function, and in this scene she fulfills a role that all male character dream of - a consolation prize for Obito who sent countless people to their deaths, brought about the apocalypse and got around to fixing it about two seconds away from midnight on the doomsday clock. But hey, at least he tried his best doing all of that!

now onto @makimahinalno points

What these two had was very unique and rare, and I cannot explain how much it irks me when people degrade and simplify it as "obsessive" when it isn't.

The uniqueness and rarity of these two stems from the fact of how absolutely half-baked their relationship is, how Rin's charactertics and worldview (which we don't get at all until that flashback when they are chunins and Rin says flat out that she wants the war to stop, which I guess indicates something common between the two, but also shows her not being a particular death enjoyer?) keep changing whenever Kishimoto needs them to ("I watched everything and you did your best" says she to a guy who demolished a village that she died to protect. Actually, two times, if we include the Pain attack. Oh, and the boy she loved aka Kakashi also got killed during that attack) and how Obito's 16 years of life post Rin's death had so much opportunistic murder that can not be excused or even motivated by any of his endless meanderings about hopelessness and such. I am sure that Kishimoto intended for this to be some sort of higher form of love, but with what he ended up writing Obito being responsible for, Kishimoto's own inability to properly handle the horrific nature of Obito's acts and, frankly, Rin's character remaining somewhere at placeholder female character level, every single time he mentions or has a flashback to her (and that happens A LOT) that really makes one realizes that either the character or the managaka are completely insane. But probably both. Which is where "obsessive" comes from, because Obito conveniently does not acquire any other significant relationships for half of his life, leaving him sounding like a broken record about Rin.

When Obito remembers Rin, when we see her face, we are supposed to think about innocence itself.

That's awesome, but making an executive decision to kill yourself using your crush's fist to prevent the village from being sent into past tense is not innocence. Being capable of taking out a dying boy's eye and transplanting into a wound of another boy while standing in the middle of some half-destroyed cave with no tools specifically prepared for that and neither of the boys dying is not innocence. If Kishimoto wished her character to be about innocence, he should have not made her an experienced shinobi (at times, of course whenever he needs her Rin becomes as incompenent as a child).

She is the symbol of it, she represents all kids in the world who deserve to play on a playground, be well fed and not have to worry whether they are going to survive to see the next morning or not.

Damn, and Obito really internalizes those ideals, doesn't he? Or does he become the head of regime that had exams for Academy students that required them to kill each other? The exam that got cancelled because little Zabuza has found a cheat code and killed a 100 children of that graduation class? The regime that had a specialized ANBU department that was solely responsible for people escaping this regime, likely including the very children that didn't want to kill their fellow little friends and not worry if the are going to see the next morning? The regime that had massacres of people possessing Kekkei Genkai that it did nothing about? And after Obito was done with that regime, surely Akatsuki did not recruit a 13 year old and a 12 year old almost consequitevely? He surely gave them warm homes, carefree education and uneventful lives? He surely did not pair them with fellow mentally ill nukenins and send them to complete missions for his terroristic band, with their faces plastered in all bingo books with a handsome reward next to them?

Again, I would love to believe into this idea of "innocence" that Obito so cherished and Rin seemed to possess, but unfortunately the only thing I get is three same scenes of Rin and Obito doing the same thing again and again + Obito's vague and meaningless meandering + none of Obito's actual messed-up shit being ever adressed in favor of the things above. I am sure Kishimoto oh so wanted this deep transcendent love and innocence incarnate, but you can't get rid of 600 chapters worth of questions by replacing all answers with "SHE WAS HIS SOLE LIGHT😭😭😭😭😭😭😭" Kishimoto created a character far too heavy that he could and wanted to manage, so Obito falls flat with Rin as the anchor that drowns him in his own lore.

I... won't be adressing the rest of your post🤣🤣🤣🤣you should write poetry, I love your flowery descriptions. I think I've made my case clear about how this particular interpretation of Obirin requires one to use their imagination instead of relying on canon material and preferably forgetting about the other big chunk

Anyway, that's about it. Thanks if you managed to read to this point, I am honestly surprised and congratulate you. I have been wanting to make a big post containing most of my issues with Obito's writing in canon, and these posts made me stay up throught two nights as I was rereading manga and writing this post itself.

And remember, kids, ship whoever your want, tag your stuff appropriately, and don't try to get into the depths of Naruto canon, or you'll end up in this wormhole just like I did. With Kishimoto at the helm, nobody is a winner.

Sending cheers to the authors of original posts!

(and yes if you are wondering why I stopped attaching pictures to the post past a certain point - I hit the limit on them and was far too lazy to separate them into several posts. I might make a separate post with other screenshots of the manga that I have where Kishimoto reaches absolutely insane levels of reader gaslighting, I was honestly torn apart by my desire to fall asleep while rereading this part of the manga and giggling like insane because some of the shit characters say is absolutelt comical in its absurdity. God I really have a love-hate relationship with Naruto's last 100 chapters, don't I. Anyway, I gotta crash, I have an exam in two days and I did not sleep for two days.)

#naruto #jolt showa's ramblings #uchiha obito #nohara rin #obito uchiha #rin nohara #sorry obirin fans but nothing good is said about this ship here

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paperpiperpeeperpopper · 2 months ago

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i wanna know about any ocs you have. this is a lore demand. /j

GRDHDHDDUFHEHRGGZGHRRR

I'm sorry but you've just made a big mistake, I won't shut up about them

Okay I have like 17+ of them so I'm only going to talk about a couple of my faves and two for the project I just got going. Blanket gore warning ⚠️

Everyone has at least one Escaped Goverment Experiemnt oc, and Allásson is mine. Likely one of my most developed because she and Mal (you'll see him later) have been my mains in a roleplay running for 4+ years now. They're a genderfluid body horror shapeshifter, (any pronouns) mixed race and half hispanic. Lore wise, her parents died in a car crash and evil scientists took her, she escaped and lives in the woods eating deer and working at a small town gift shop now. I also have a wip half sibling for him that has umbrakinesis (that's it, that's literally all I have on them) and I want them to meet and and go on adventures and something I really want to do with their story is have Al connect with her heritage more.

Woman belongs to my friend @akalimbratic

Basically I saw the hand art from this post reposted on pinterest and saw jacksepticeye play a horror game (I can't find anymore) In the same week and I ran with the ideas that popped into my head. Allásson is the host to a colony of an alien parasitic lifeform that rapidly and artificially mutates it's host for their mutual survival, it only has rudimentary sentience and can't talk or communicate, but the events were traumatizing for both Al and fibs (name for this specific colony of the parasite in meta) and they were so altered by their time in captivity that one cannot survive without the other. Al uses the fibers to move parts of her body around at a microscopic level and shapeshift and dislocate bones at will because he's weird.

Malcolm, now Malcolm is my *throws at wall* /affectionate oc. He's human, or he used to be at least. (You may remember him from the notes of the blood whump post) He's the other one that's been around a while in that long running rp (older version in the image on right), but basically he's just some teenager born into the most plain white bread normal christian family possible, his mom's a librarian and his dad's an accountant, and he's the nerdiest, gayest, silliest, gen z, most atrocious fashion sense little goober I have. Also he got cursed.

I have these demon/dreamon things (I really need to come up with a better name for them) in my lore that are invisible to people and kinda like ghosts, and will latch onto a person with life troubles and worsen their mental state to feed off the emotional energy, usually by entering their dreams and causing nightmares. Usually they go away on their own or when someone gets therapy, but if a person that has one attached suddenly has a massive dip in mental health (traumatic event, friend goes missing, getting struck by magic lightning, etc.) the demon will go into a feeding frenzy and "turn" the person into another dreamon, they dissapear from the physical plane and lose their humanity and higher thinking. This happened to Mal, but the process was interupted when he woke up from the nightmare on his own, so he was only half turned. Now he has a tail and his blood glows blue, he can enter other people's dreams, (he mostly uses this out-of-bounds to draft up fanfiction ideas) and turn into a spooky half dreamon thing at will :)

Petra and Blake are my two oldest ocs that I haven't scrapped

Petra is an android, she's designed with biomimicry in mind, and her name is an acronym for Prototype Exploration Transport and Research Android. She was meant to explore planets and enviroments humens couldn't, but she glitched while in developmet and started to develop sapience, she killed her creators before really knew what free will meant, and ran away. In the roleplay I just got running she's the engineer and local menace on a crew of space pirates, and their ship and the one they were trying to raid just crashed on an uncharted planet. (She has already been accidentally shot in the face by her friend and he burned her (non grow backable) eyebrows) She's energetic and swears a lot, aroace, and gets really really attached to people she cares about. Stabby the roomba is her adopted son and she is Petra the stabby, she likes knives. Her hair is made of light reactiive filiments that she uses to solar charge, and her "muscle" is purple :D

I don't have any newer art for her aside from this and I am not digging up the old shit.

Blake actually used to be a Subnautica oc while BZ was in early development, but I've repurposed her for my own worldbuilding project later. Her father's ship goes down and breaks up in the atmosphere, but she gets to a pod and is the only survivor, stranded on the alien arctic where she has been fending for herself for the last 5-ish years. She's got a small alliance with the natives there (they're fluffy seal people with lil snail antenne and ::3 faces) but they kinda view her as a tiny spooky ice cryptid. You know how much I love my unhinged alien planet survivors.

I will leave you with this for now, because i have so many more but there are so few hours in the day 😔

#original character #allásson #Iŕdauk #malcolm collins #p.e.t.r.a.#blake reyes #ask #piperamble #spires #ibuilria #threecephalopodsinatrenchcoat

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incorrectklavekatz · 9 months ago

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What are your favorite Kurt moments?? (Movies, comics, cartoons- doesn't matter) ((I'm just trying to find out more about the silly since I've only recently got into x-men and wanna know more))

Also do you have any Kurt Headcanons???

Favourite Kurt moments!!! + some head canons at the end

-“somebody so beautiful should not be so angry” from X2, I’m just a sucker for Kuroro and their dynamic is 10x better than whatever Logan and Jean had going on!

-any interaction he has with kids in the comics, he’s so good with them and he’s often not given the chance because the other xmen think he’ll scare them, but oftentimes they’re more fascinated by his appearance than anything

-when he jumps on Logan because he gets a fright and refuses to get down until he knows it’s safe (comics)

-using his image inducer to look like Errol Flynn (his pirate idol)

-jumping in the river after Raven ten minutes after he found out she was his mother only to immediately start drowning and get fished out by rogue holding him by the scruff of the neck in the original cartoon

-that comic cover of him just?? Standing there naked while Logan watches him???

-any panel of him and storm ever

-him and Angel’s fight scenes in Apocalypse

-him falling asleep while everybody else is fighting for their lives, also in Apocalypse

-“no mein friend, nine”

-his entire fight scene in the White House at the beginning of X2

Kurt HCs!!

-he has a lot of cat like traits - eg napping in the sun, purring, expressing how he’s feeling through body language

-him letting somebody help him groom his fur is an EXTREMELY personal thing, he only lets people help if he really trusts them

-incredibly fancy handwriting

-has ARFID - main safe food is plain hamburgers or bread

-sees in ultraviolet, also incredible vision up to 20ft and beyond that he can’t see for shit

-personally a fan of Kurt with bird like feet and claws rather than the long nails, but that’s a style choice!

-he can move his ears independently and they often pin back if he’s scared or uncomfortable

-he wraps his tail around his leg as a nervous habit

-he experiences withdrawals if he’s given sedatives or pain medication after an injury due to the drugging he received in the circus

Thank you for the ask!!! I have focused predominantly on more upbeat stuff - but if you’d like more of the angsty stuff let me know!

#kurt wagner #nightcrawler #xmen #marvel #incorrect klave talks

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cielwritings · 1 year ago

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If it's okay could you do something with yandere! Ciel and yandere! Sebastian x timid reader who develops stockholm syndrome? 👀 There would be no escaping them theyre too powerful rip.

! Yandere!Sebaciel x Reader !

say less :p

tw: mental abuse, physical abuse, emotional abuse, neglect

Ciel and Sebastian were both partners before you came around, but when you did, something clicked inside the two of them. They didn’t need to verbally express it. All it needed was a mutual look in the eye to know what each other wanted.

Ciel being a yandere is troubling, but both? You’re in for a ride.

They’re two different yanderes. Sebastian likes to tend to you, keeping you as safe as possible. Ciel likes to mark you, to make you his territory.

Sometimes Ciel will go over the top. Of course he won’t do things you explicitly tell him no to. Though if he can, he’ll bruise you, bite you, or write on you with permanent marker.

Sebastian treats you like you’re his master/mistress, except, times 10.

..This scares you. A lot. You can’t go anywhere with the feeling of Sebastian lurking over your shoulder. Ciel’s presence is threatening, you have to walk on eggshells with him.

And at the end of the day, you couldn’t bring yourself to entertain them. It just lead you to be punished.

Sebastian’s punishments are emotional anguish. He’s the most caring, so you’re drawn to him more than Ciel. Admittedly, you don’t mind the way he tends to you. It’s the way he does it. So when he randomly stops tending to you snd gets Ciel to do it, you panic.

This continues until you beg for him to keep going. Even then, he won’t continue if you don’t say you’re sorry.

Ciel’s can be physical and mental, albeit not straight up punching you, he will make you constantly feel uncomfortable. Being a bit too close, wearing textures you find unpleasant, and wearing clothes colored to make your eyes sore.

One of Ciel’s punishments, he had you on your knees in front of him. He was slowly stroking your cheek, breathing softly through his mouth. He was close enough that you felt the heat on you, and it made you quite uncomfortable.. especially with how close his thumbs were to your eyes.

The moment you began to fall in love, was the moment you broke. It was the same night Sebastian found you trying to escape the manor.

“Whatever do you think you’re doing?” he states, tray to his hip. “My, my..”

He ordered you to sit on the couch, being guarded by Baldroy. He told Ciel what had happened, and they both agreed on a punishment.

You were in an old room the household rarely ever touched. It was completely cleared out, perhaps originally going to be used for storage or a guest room. They sat you in there. There was nothing to do.

You sat in there for who knows how long. None of them told you an exact timeframe. Though, Ciel said it was between a few days and two weeks.

The only way you survived was being given water and plain food. White bread with unsalted, dehydrating crackers. The way they gave it to you? They waited until you were passed out from exhaustion to put it in the room. Even the plate and utensils were bland.

They wanted you to have as little stimuli as possible.

Ciel was delivering your food one day, but you weren’t completely passed out. You were spread out on the floor, eyes just barely open, facing the door. He placed the food and drink down, then sighed through his nose. Even waking you up with noises was something they couldn’t have.

You noticed that there were extra portions this time, something out of character for Ciel. He probably missed you.

Just barely, you croaked out a ‘thank you’ and a ‘you’re kind’.

Even in this situation.. you thought he was kind?

Ciel called off the punishment and had you in his arms those same ten minutes. Somehow, that was the weirdest part of all of this. Being neglected stimuli for potentially weeks and then suddenly feeling warmth and comfort…

It took you a while to get back to your old self. You were still nervous around them, but you noticed more about them. Whenever Sebastian looked at you, his eyes would momentarily light up with love.

Whenever you looked at Ciel, his jaw would unclench, and his shoulders would relax. Something about knowing these facts comforted you. They had their guard down around you, so why shouldn’t yours be?

Sebastian was the first you kissed. He was bathing you, asking for permission to touch your chest or groin. You gave him a kiss mid question, right on the cheek.

“You don’t have to ask to touch when you bathe me..” you mumble. “If you don’t get spots, they’ll be dirty and infected..”

He was in shock, though softly chuckled at your words and nodded. “You’re very right.”

Ciel was more forceful. Not in a mean way, but when he heard you kiss Sebastian, he grabbed your cheeks and kissed your lips.

“That bastard better have not taken your first kiss. Did he?” “…N-No..” “Good. You’re mine. Stay in this room with me until I excuse you.”

You sat on his lap the whole time.

#black butler #kuroshitsuji #ciel phantomhive #! sfw #! tw: physical abuse #! tw: neglect #! tw: mental abuse #! tw: emotional abuse #sebastian michaelis #sebaciel x reader #sebastian x reader #ciel x reader #sebaciel

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halfmoth-halfman · 2 years ago

Text

the willow maid

Pairing: Kyle “Gaz” Garrick x F!Reader Word Count: 5.2k Warnings: implied smut, blood, death, loss, bittersweet ending Prompt: Fairytale!AU & “It was the biggest mistake I ever made.” & the song, the willow maid by erutan Disclaimer: I do not own modern warfare or any of the modern warfare characters. A/N: here it is!!! the final fic for @glitterypirateduck’s GazFest 2023!! i hope you guys had as much fun with gazfest as i did!!! and thank you to the amazing glitterypirateduck for putting it all together!!!!! 💜

The tavern is nestled on the far edge of town, a barely held-together building run by an even more decrepit barkeep. Half resting on the edge of the forest, half consumed by the rich greenery, vines and roots split through the walls and upend the cracking cobblestones around it. The windows are covered in a layer of dust, door hanging on by a single bolt, entrance covered in years of muddy boot prints. Every imperfection is only amplified under the light of the early morning sun.

They’re given bread while they wait, circled around the lopsided table pressed up against the clean window, and MacTavish is the only one brave enough to try it. It’s good, if a bit off in a way he can’t fully describe; it’s sweet and light, but there’s a bitterness lurking on his tongue when he swallows.

The ale arrives and, with it, their long-awaited companion.

He’s quiet, Simon notices. There are only two other people in this tavern, a shifty-eyed child with no shoes and fidgeting hands and a cloaked figure lying with their head on the bar, but Simon hadn’t seen their newfound friend approach. It sets him on edge, more than usual.

(It had been MacTavish who found him, bursting into the inn they'd been staying at with a wide grin and a piece of torn parchment.

“Got a lead on the flower,” he’d said, handing Price the scrap to let him examine the hastily drawn map. “Met a man who claimed t’ have seen th’ bloom himself. Said to meet him there in three days’ time, jus’ after sunrise.”

Price had been skeptical, but it’d been weeks since their last lead dried up, and their gold was beginning to run low.. Desperate times, and all that.)

MacTavish told them everything he knew about his mysterious contact, but they hadn’t expected him to be so young.

Barely a year older than MacTavish, the man sits across from them with a polite smile and his hands clasped on the table where everyone can see them.

Everything about him is dark. His skin, his hair, his eyes. Even his cloak is a deep plum material, unpatterned and plain.

There’s nothing particularly special about him at first glance, but they know something’s not quite right about this man.

He’s too…clean, too put together. There’s no mud on his boots, no signs of hardship or travel, and his clothes are too purposefully plain despite the high quality of the stitching. His movements are too practiced, too elegant, as he takes a slice of bread and fills his cup with manners befitting someone of a far higher station. There’s not a mark or scratch on him, save for the single scratch across is left cheek.

This man is not what he seems.

“Your friend tells me you’re looking for the Willow’s Wail,” the man speaks, polished, measured, curious.

The three straighten at the mention of the flower.

It was supposed to be a myth, an old wives tale to tell your children when you put them to sleep. A story about a powerful Fae and a cunning boy who outfoxed her, obtaining a single seed from her garden as a reward.

But the boy, in his excitement at besting the Fair Fae, didn’t notice he’d dropped the seed just before leaving the fae realm. When the boy finally realized and returned to retrieve it, it was too late. The seed had fallen on the wrong side of the barrier between his world and theirs and he was forced to watch it grow until it bloomed a beautiful, glowing white.

The boy had one night to admire its beauty before its petals began to fall and the flower wilted. The wind carried the drifting petals, spreading them far and wide to bloom across the mortal realm. The boy was lucky enough to catch one, and it was said that the magic from that single petal granted the boy his heart's desire.

There were countless names for it.

Moondrop. Angel’s Kiss. Ghostheart. Star Rose.

It changed over the centuries, varying region by region, along with the story, but the details stayed the same.

A glowing, white flower that blooms for one night with enough potent magic in a single petal to keep you safe and sated for the rest of your life.

So many had claimed to have seen it, to have picked an entire bloom and reveled in its sweet scent. How many of the rich and mighty claimed to have one hidden in their vaults? How many urchins kept themselves going with the hope of one day finding a bloom, and pulling themselves from poverty?

How many rumors had their own merry little group chased, claiming to know where to find a moondrop or angel’s kiss or ghostheart?

Though, Simon’s never heard someone refer to it as the Willow’s Wail before.

“You know where to find one, I take it?” Price asks. The man nods through a mouthful of bread, taking a sip of the spiced honey ale before he answers.

“Not just where to find it,” he hums, picking at the crust of his bread. “I know how to grow one.”

That’s new.

There have been plenty who claimed to have found a petal. Even some who’ve said they’ve made their own deal with the Fae from the story.

But there’s never been someone who claimed to have a seed before.

The man says it so casually, Simon is almost inclined to believe him.

“S’pose ye’ll be wantin’ a trade for it?” MacTavish chuckles, already bracing himself for what will either be an absurd amount of coin or a request for a near-impossible task.

“Of sorts,” the man shrugs.

Simon does not like this, and one glance at Price tells him that the older man feels the same.

Price folds his arms across his chest, metal bracers clinking against his chest piece. “What’s your price?”

“A story,” the man simply says.

“You want us to tell you a story?” Even through the shrouded mask, the disbelief is clear in Simon’s voice.

This has to be a trick. The man is clearly a swindler, wasting their time to get a free meal.

“Quite the opposite,” the man laughs. “I’d like to tell you a story. One about how I came across this flower, and, if you manage to make it to the end, I’ll tell you how to grow the flower for yourselves.”

The trio shares a look of wary skepticism, knowing they all share the same thought. Something isn’t right here. It can’t be this simple, this easy. Not when they’ve spent months exhausting every resource, every contact–from officials in the high courts to the lowest of street urchins–available only to come up empty-handed.

This man is bold, brazen, and a liar. On that, they can all agree.

But there’s something about the way he’s so casually confident in his words. Something simmers just beneath the surface with this man. Something strange. Something…sad.

He may not be telling the truth about the flower, but they’re sure he has some information that could be valuable to them.

Price looks to the other two, brows raised in question. Simon and MacTavish each give him a single, reaffirming nod.

“Alright,” Price sighs, leaning back in his crooked chair. “Tell us your story, Mr…”

There’s an awkward pause when Price realizes MacTavish never gave him this man’s name, made only more awkward when MacTavish’s eyes widen as he realizes he doesn’t know the name, either.

The man takes it in stride, a soft chuckle as he tells them, “Garrick. Kyle Garrick.”

An old name. A rich name. A name written in royal histories about the first kings.

The name of a family that’s been dead for over a century.

There’s a hum around the table, a low buzz that sinks deep into their bones and weighs down their limbs.

Kyle sets his plate aside, staring them down with a toothy grin that doesn’t reach his eyes. Something flashes across his face, a brief flicker of silver barely caught in the sunlight. There are no words spoken, but they all know–

They are trapped here.

“We’ll start with something familiar, then,” Kyle hums, sharp eyes sliding over to MacTavish. The look of someone who’s obtained a victory.

“Once upon a time…”

…There were no kings or queens to rule over the land.

No kingdoms, or even cities.

There was simply the Village and the Forest.

It was a simple exchange, a simple harmony between the two. The Forest would provide food, lumber, livestock, and protection so that the village could thrive, and the villagers would take only what they needed. No more, no less.

The villagers did not ask where these things came from. They did not demand to know the name of their benevolent caretaker. They said their thanks, made their offerings, created festivals to celebrate their Forest.

They were grateful.

Until the night of the full moon, when a young man, drunk from a week of celebrating the harvest, wandered into the trees. It had been a dare, a test of bravery from the woman whose hand he sought.

“Name your price, and I swear to you, I’ll provide it!” the man had foolishly declared, loud enough for all of his friends to hear.

The woman had no intention of marrying him, desperate to be rid of his affections as she preferred another, richer man. She smirked at him, nose high in the air as she told him, “I’ll take your hand and name, but three things you must bring me. First, a ring made from the brightest star in the sky. Second, a dress sewn from the silk of the sea spider queen that resides in the lake–”

Already an impossible task, a joke made of the proposal and the man.

But the woman was not finished, her grin cruel as she spoke her final request, “And last, a cloak made from the hide of the rarest creature to dwell in the Forest.”

Where there had been laughter, silence now loomed.

To go into the Forest…

It had never been done, an unspoken rule passed down through generations. They were only meant to take, to thank, to leave. Never to enter.

But the man would not be deterred, a dangerous mix of love and liquid courage coursing through his veins.

He turned on his heels, picked up his bow, and marched straight into the Forest.

It didn’t take long for the noises of the village to fade behind him, and the world to grow dark. The trees were too thick for the moonlight to reach, plunging him into unfamiliar darkness.

But the man would not be discouraged. He pressed forward, walking until his legs shook and the drink wore off, determined to find his rare creature.

And a rare creature he did find.

After hours in the black of the Forest, the man heard a voice. A sweet song, drifting through the leaves to reach down into his very soul. He felt light, the pain in his muscles fading as it lured him deeper and deeper and deeper.

–Into the very heart of the Forest.

A weeping willow larger than any tree he’d ever seen resting in a ring of red toadstools. So large was it, it broke the canopy of the Forest, its weeping white blooms glowing in the pale moonlight. Soft petals and catkins drifted in the gentle breeze, littering the pale blue grass beneath his feet.

And there, in the gold of its branches laid her.

Skin textured like bark, clothed in a dress of draping pale petals, hair so long it wound high into the branches, the Willow Maid sang into the warm, night air.

Entranced by her voice, her beauty, her presence, the man abandoned his bow. His proposal forgotten, he stepped forward eager to hear more of the maiden’s song.

Unable to keep his arms from her ethereal form, he unwittingly stepped over the threshold of toadstools. A gust of wind carried the last of her song, as she turned in her branches to stare down at him.

A piercing gaze, ever-shifting through the colors of the rarest gems. She watched him, staring into him, around him, through him.

Cautious. Curious.

So overcome by her beauty was he, the man spoke without thought, “Fair Willow Maid, I would seek forgiveness for interrupting your lovely song.”

A dangerous thing, to be indebted to her, but the man did not care.

“Then my forgiveness is granted,” she said, voice echoing in the drifting of leaves and waves of the grass. “But it is not forgiveness which brought you to my willow bed. You seek the hand of a woman. A love to be bought and born of my demise.”

“A hide,” he corrected, flinching under her accusation. “Of the rarest creature to dwell in this Forest.”

“What is rarer than the Forest’s own master?”

The man could not answer, stunned by this revelation.

Master of the forest, of beasts, and of men. And he had sought to kill her for a love unrequited.

“You will return to the object of your desires, a failure. My hide is mine own, and I will not allow it to be taken by a love-sickened hunter.”

Foolish and guilty the man may have been, but he was also clever, and a solution quickly came to his mind.

He could not return with the hide, but that did not mean he had to return empty-handed.

“Come with me, dear maiden,” he called into the branches. “Come from thy willow bed, and meet those who would worship at your feet.”

There was no anger in her, no offense at the thought she would be so vain as to want of worship, but instead peace.

Calm.

Serenity.

A gentle, pitying smile, her voice soft as the moonlight, “I cannot leave this place, daring hunter. Instead, I may present you with a parting gift.”

The winds shifted, drooping branches caressed his face.

The man blinked and found himself at the Forest’s edge, staring out at the sun rising over his village with his bow in hand. Around his neck hung a locket of pure gold, a glowing white willow carved into the center.

“I give you this gift,” her voice drifted into his ears, faint and distant. “Proof that you have been blessed by my forest. You may return if you’d like, but I warn you. Don’t ask me to follow where you lead.”

Kyle pauses to take a drink, his attention elsewhere long enough for their limbs to loosen slightly.

“Tha’s quite the tale ye have,” MacTavish says once he regains control of his mouth.

“So, the flowers are Fae magic,” Price hums. “Guess the stories were right about that.”

“More than you’d think,” Kyle sighs, a bitter chuckle as he sets down his cup.

“Forests are all cut down and contained now,” Simon says, cold, calculating eyes kept on Kyle.

“Aye, and th’ Fae Folk are all but gone,” MacTavish adds. There’s a grimace on Kyle’s face, a flinch that he covers by pretending to rub at his eyes.

“The flowers must be left over from the willows, then?” Price deduces, his head tilted towards their storyteller. Kyle shrugs, with a noncommittal nod that sets off alarms in Simon’s head.

“Where did you hear this story?” the masked mask asks. “We’ve heard all of the tales, the bedtime stories, the songs. Yet, I don’t think we’ve ever heard of a Willow Maid.”

“Very few have,” Kyle says simply. “For good reason.”

“And we’re supposed to believe you?” Simon scoffs. “A man we hardly know, telling a story no one else has heard of, about a flower that might not even exist.” He looks to Price, the request clear in his eyes.

This is a waste of time. We should leave.

“The deal wasn’t for you to believe me.” Kyle’s voice is sharp, a dangerous edge laced across the tight smile on his face. “The deal was for you to listen.”

The word hisses from his mouth, and Simon feels his muscles tighten painfully. MacTavish groans next to him, and Simon knows he and Price are feeling the same. A weight holds them down, keeps them in their chairs, unable to move or look at anything other than Kyle.

Kyle simply smiles.

“If I may continue?”

…The village had hailed him a hero.

To have gone into the Forest, and emerged with its blessing? There was no higher achievement, no feat more accomplished.

They showered him in gifts, in favors, in endless wealth.

The woman whose hand he sought all but threw herself into his arms, so proud to accept his proposal now.

Yet, he denied it all. He did not want gold nor gems nor silks. He did not care if he had the biggest house, the fattest livestock, the fullest larder.

His heart’s true desire rested in the heart of the Forest, nestled safely in her tree.

He visited the Willow Maid often, disappearing into the Forest trees for weeks at a time. Others tried to follow him, tried to gain the Forest’s favor just as he had. All but him were spurned, led into the depth of the trees only to be twisted and turned and led back to where they had started.

The woman he once sought grew so green with jealousy, she marched into the Forest promising to find what had stolen his affections with a sharp knife and bundle of matchsticks. She never returned, and the Forest refused to provide until the man visited again to apologize on the village’s behalf.

They stopped following him after that.

The man was not bothered, content to be left alone with his Willow Maid. He enjoyed his time, resting in the shade of her tree, listening to her sing or telling her tales from his childhood. He spoke with her, laughed with her, learned about her and her Forest and her creatures.

Years passed, and his visits grew. He had befriended her, treasured her, loved her.

And she loved him in return.

The village was alight with rumor and speculation when the man walked into the Forest, dressed in his finest with a bundle of fresh sunflowers in hand.

Unwavering faith. Admiration. Sincerity.

To love until the end.

A proposal with the highest affections.

He stood beneath her willow and wrapped the flowers in the moonlit branches. They carried the fresh blooms to his love, his declaration loud for all of the Forest to hear–

“You’ve captured my heart, my sweet Willow Maid. With your Forest’s blessing, I would be honored to be your groom.”

She smelled the sunflowers, cradling them in her arms like the most precious of gifts. She released them to the branches, watching them drift high into the willow, out of her sight and out of his.

The wind whispered across his cheek, blossoms shrouding the maiden before she appeared before him at the base of the tree. He took her into his arms, holding her close against him. Everything about her was perfect, the velvet soft petals of her gown, the radiating warmth of her skin, the smell of ambrosia in her hair.

There would be no other for him, in this life and every life.

His heart was completely hers, just as hers was his.

“My dear, darling hunter,” she spoke, her hands a soft caress on his cheeks. “I can wed you never. Not near, nor far, nor soon.”

A heart-shattering rejection that would have ruined him for love eternally had she not looked so mournful. So regretful.

“Why?” he begged. “What is it that keeps you from me?”

A hand on his heart, the other on her tree he feels the pulse–the life–thrum through her fingertips. “I told you, I cannot leave this place.”

He grasped her hand in his, his voice a sweet murmur as he gave her his solution. “Then don’t.”

A long-awaited kiss, and an even longer-awaited night possessed by the feel, the touch, the love of one another. A promise of dedication, of ever-lasting love. Whispers sewn into the infinite roots of her willow.

They rested against her tree after, pressed against one another as she traced along his chest, a glowing willow forever marked over his heart.

“The Forest is not your home, my lovely hunter, and I would not be so cruel as to bind you to it. You may come and go as you please. I will always be here, awaiting your visits, but you cannot ask me to follow where you lead.”

A plea unheard, falling deaf on sleeping ears.

The barkeep comes to refill the ale, and the pressure releases as Kyle thanks him with a smile.

“This is startin’ to sound…personal,” MacTavish jokes, and Price is thankful for the man’s sharp eyes and unrestrained tongue.

Kyle murmurs something they don’t catch, lips quirking up at the corners.

“Perhaps it is,” he shrugs. There’s something playful in his tone. Mischievous. As if he's proud of their keen attentions.

“Laying with the Fae’s an awfully bold thing to do, but promising yourself to one?” Price lets out a low whistle.

“Foolish, more like,” MacTavish chuckles.

It wasn’t unheard of. There were stories of humans being whisked away in the night to live a life of comfort and luxury among their Fae lovers. They were mostly fairytales, told to satisfy young children and hopeless romantics, as most of those who’d grown already knew of the dangers of the Fae.

They knew the true nature of the Fae, and that a mortal’s comfort often went hand in hand with servitude. Wealth and luxury were rewards for proper entertainment and could be stripped away at a moment’s notice. The Fae were as cruel as they were kind, and their promises were not to be taken lightly.

“Maybe a little of both,” Kyle hums. “Love makes fools of even the best of us.”

“I’ll drink t’ tha’!” MacTavish laughs, and the pressure in his limbs loosens enough to allow him to toast his cup against Kyle’s.

“So,” Simon speaks up, flexing his hands as a test of mobility. When he’s given range, he leans back his chair, one hand resting around his cup. “What happened next?”

There’s something mournful in Kyle’s smile. A pained regret they very easily recognize.

They’ve all known that sting of loss.

“What happened next…”

…It was the tree.

The willow–her willow–kept her bound to the Forest, away from her love. She had tried everything in her power to make it see reason, to let her wander from its ring of toadstools.

She made offerings, formed new creatures to take her stead, begged at its roots.

It denied her every time.

The man tried to stay with her, but I–he could not thrive in the moonlight alone. He could not live off of Forest’s magic as she could. He had to return to the village.

They were resigned to spend their years as often apart as with each other. Not a moment together was wasted. Their joinings were beautiful–soft and tender and full of love–and their partings were miserable. They mourned in their time away, grief-stricken and sick with yearning for their other half.

Five years of this unending misery, and the man had had enough.

He stormed through the forest, a fury of determination. The trees parted for him, in fear of the sharpness of his eyes and of the axe in his hands.

He was going to take his faerie—his wife—and free her from her prison. They were going to be happy together, raise their children together, live their lives together as they were meant to.

He did not waste time when he reached the clearing, did not give her warning before his first swing.

The roots sprung forth, ripping through the earth to lash at the hunter, striking across his face to draw blood from his cheek.

Still, he did not stop.

Neither did the tree.

The Willow Maid dove from its branches, shielding her hunter’s body with her own, taking the strike in his place.

The willow halted its assault, axe planted firmly in its trunk.

She stumbled to her feet, the split across her back dripping into the pale grass, staining its blades a shimmering gold. She stepped a sure foot forward, crushing the toadstools beneath her bare feet, and took the axe in hand.

The echoes of her wailing melted into the cracking of the wood.

The cry of her willow as it fell would haunt the forest for a millennium.

She collapsed into sobs, but it was not for her willow that she cried. She cradled the bloodied body of her poor, dear hunter close to her chest. Hair falling around them, its long tendrils soaked by the sweet smelling blood-sap oozing from her tree.

She wept.

For him, for her, for their freedom and love.

She wept.

Her willow personified.

She waited until he was strong enough to stand, to face her, to hold her. A kiss over the cold corpse of her once caretaker.

He led her back through the forest, hand clasped tightly around hers, ready to bring her home. His home, her home, their home.

When they came to the forest edge, she gasped at the sight of the village. The burning orange sunset streaked across the fields, the speckle of lights from their windows against the darkening land, the sound of cheer and laughter and freedom.

Her smile was bright enough to rival the stars, eager to start her new life with her love eternal.

Two steps past the forest edge.

That was as far as she got.

Two steps beyond the threshold and her knees buckled beneath her. Her hunter held onto her, lowering her into the warm grass. Her body seized in his arms, barkskin peeling and flaking into thin wood chips. Cheeks sinking in, hair thinning into long blades of grass, petal clothes wilting against her body.

She pawed at his face, eyes wild with fear and confusion. Her whimpers and wordless pleas broke his heart, begging every god he could think of to fix his sweet Willow Maid.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

She was supposed to be safe. They were supposed to be happy. Together.

He felt her fade, her body melting in his arms, and a shrieking lament tore from his throat as he lost his one and only love, left with only her dim golden blood sliding through his fingers.

The sun set, the moon taking its place high in the sky.

The wind whispered across his skin, a fresh sting against the cut on his cheek, carrying with it the voice of her fallen willow.

“You’ve stolen from me that which is most precious. Don’t you know that pain you sow is pain you reap?”

The Forest murmurs, trees rustled in the growing moonlight. Shimmering silver growing and growing from the dense woods, until it was almost blinding.

“You have taken but you have not given in return, and so I make this trade instead. I will take from you what you took from me.”

The golden blood began to glow on his hands, glow on the ground, glow in the moonlight, light rising and rising and rising. It skimmed petal-soft across his hands, slinking into the grass where the dirt drank and digested it.

There was shouting from the village as the lights crescendoed into one final, blinding beam then faded entirely. Everything was left in muted, dull tones as if the color was stripped from the world, the Forest silent and still for the first time since its conception.

He knew that the Forest would provide for them no longer.

All that remained was a beautiful, glowing flower. A moon-white blossom, a cruel reminder of what he had done.

The earth rumbled beneath his feet, one last biting sentence from the willow.

“You can not take from the Forest what was never meant to leave.”

Kyle finishes his tale with a sigh of longing.

“It was the biggest mistake I ever made,” he says, eyes cast down at the table.

“A cruel lesson,” Price laments, eyes full of sympathy for the young man.

“And one repaid in blood,” Kyle sighs grimly. He takes a deep swig, setting his cup aside as the pressure lifts entirely from the group across from him.

“The flower wilted by morning, taken from me forever, and I…did not respond kindly. I took up arms against the Forest’s creatures, hunted them to near extinction, and cut down every tree in sight. The magic was gone, but my people rejoiced. They named me Garrick, Spear King.”

The table goes still.

They’ve heard of the Great Spear King. There’s not a soul alive who hasn’t. The story of how he founded the kingdoms, brought the world to rule under one benevolent ruler, was taught to every child, passed on through every generation.

There were holidays named for him. Parades in his honor.

Respects paid to his burial chambers every year.

Kyle watches the realization wash over them, the skepticism, the caution. He stands from the table, a small gesture out the window.

“The ruins of my village lie a tenday’s walk in that direction. Just beyond the flooded river, in a deep valley. There are remnants, sometimes, when the moon is brightest. You may not get everything you wished for, but there is power in that soil.”

“And that’s what the others found? Is it truly soil that they keep hidden in their vaults? Is it dirt that they credit their wealth and power to?” Simon scoffs.

“If it is, it’s not from the Fae,” Kyle shrugs. “There’s nothing left of their magic in this world. I made sure of it.”

“Then, why tell us?” MacTavish questions. The once-king shrugs again, adjusting the fastening of his cloak.

“Curiosity? Boredom? Or perhaps, I just wanted someone to know the truth, and you lot seemed trustworthy enough.”

It should be a compliment, the highest honor given from the man who founded their nation, but it feels…sad.

“I wish you luck, travelers. It is a rare day indeed that I find myself so open to sharing secrets.”

Kyle doesn’t wait for them to say their goodbyes, or say anything really. He gives them a curt nod, and turns to head up the stairs to the tavern’s second floor.

They wait until nightfall to leave, making their way down the path under the shroud of darkness.

Kyle watches from the window of his room, sitting tucked in the windowsill. His cloak abandoned on the uneven bed, he smooths his thumb over the well-worn metal of the locket around his neck. The tree’s glow is dim, barely noticeable unless he cups his hands around it, but it’s there.

He waits until the trio fades from his vision, shifting against the rotting wood to sit up straight. The moonlight casts its shine down through the foggy panes, but it’s enough light to satisfy him.

Pressing his fingers into the sides of locket, he holds it under the light as it opens with a soft click.

Petals burst from the seams, throwing the locket open to release a beautiful, bountiful white bloom. The flower soaks up the moonlight, waves of golden light pulsing over its velvet petals.

For one moment, he is that young man again, no longer carrying the burden of loss in his eyes, or the torment of a man who has been granted the curse of eternal life.

He presses a tender kiss to the flower. “I’ve missed you, my love.”

The flower glows just a bit brighter.

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