#he’s far too overconfident in himself in this regard

[foolishlyzephyrus]

“i’d recognize her anywhere”, no you would not. did we not already learn this lesson with clara? the doctor very infamously cannot recognize the people he cares about

[battlekidx2]

Alastor Episodes 7 and 8 Thoughts

These two episodes really gave us a lot in regards to Alastor and I cannot wait to see where they go with him in season 2. What I find most fascinating about what they established with him in these episodes is how I think this perfectly sets up Alastor to directly challenge the show’s main themes of redemption.

Alastor is the only character in the main cast that I think could effectively challenge Charlie’s idea of redemption by making her face the question of “where the line for who can be redeemed and who is too far gone is?” 

Even Vaggie and her past as an exorcist couldn’t challenge Charlie’s ideals in the same way because Vaggie so clearly wants to be better and is trying to be better. She could only challenge Charlie’s idea of who could be redeemed. She couldn’t truly challenge the line of when someone is too far gone unlike Alastor. 

And to explain this I'll just jump right in.

It’s clear these two episodes were meant to show a shift in Alastor and Charlie’s relationship in some capacity. It’s a bit more of a subtle shift than with the other characters, but I think it’s setting up this future conflict well for the limited time the show has. 

At the start Charlie doesn’t think Alastor cares and calls him out on this. She directly states that she believes he enjoys the suffering. He refutes her idea of him by stating she doesn’t know what he feels. He purposefully hides his feelings behind a smile as a sign of control. (The first shift. It tells her there’s more beneath the surface)

Then Alastor helps Charlie enlist cannibal town and says he wants to mentor her in the song. This is more than the initial indifference and humor he got out of Charlie at the beginning. There’s an interest in seeing Charlie grow and being a part of it that wasn't there before. And, with Alastor helping Charlie here, trust is being built (at least on Charlie's end).

Then Alastor talks to Niffty (who he is clearly fond of) and admits he finds the group enjoyable to be around. He says he could grow accustomed to them after Niffty says she really likes them almost in agreement with her. He's very candid with Niffty and doesn't seem to feel the need to hide his emotions around her. They appear to be on the same wavelength.

And finally, Charlie is upset when she thinks that Alastor died against Adam and hugs him happily when he returns. In Charlie’s eyes Alastor has been helpful and risked himself and his power to protect the hotel. This is a true shift in their relationship on Charlie's end.

This bond is necessary because if (at the very least) Charlie doesn't care about Alastor then he won't be able to truly challenge her idea of redemption and the show implies it doesn't just go one way. It's just obscured.

To explain what I mean I want to look at Alastor's role in the final battle and that moment when he is alone after he escapes.

At the beginning of the battle he felt like the trump card he should have been. He makes the exorcists, before Adam destroys his shield, look like a joke. And he gives Adam a run for his money before he becomes overconfident and lets his guard down. He didn’t expect Adam to bounce back and have that much power left to show. He was caught completely off guard and paid the price. 

And instead of staying to face the end with the rest of the people in the hotel Alastor opts to save himself. He places himself first. When he leaves he seems almost smug, spouting off a one liner and smiling as he sinks into the shadows. It seems calculated and calm, but alone is a completely different story. This moment shakes Alastor and that moment alone puts his fight against Adam and decision to flee in a different light.

In this moment when he's alone he starts to lose it, saying there has to be a way out. This isn’t where things end. He will come out on top. 

He can feel his control over the situation slipping. His power and notoriety has been challenged left and right this season. First Vox, then Lucifer, then the loan sharks, now Adam. It’s one right after the other. And Adam almost killed him.

He’s struggling to grasp onto what little control he has left by forcing himself to keep on his smile and it calls back to the beginning of episode 7 when he says to Charlie that just because she sees a smile doesn't mean she knows how he really feels. His smile is a sign of control. And even in this moment you can see that last bit of control slipping. And it’s left him even more desperate for his freedom than before.

The Radio Demon was introduced almost as if he was an all powerful entity and now he is being brought back down to earth and he’s raging against it, barely keeping it just below the surface. 

But there’s even more to his breakdown than just his pride. The lines “Great Alastor, altruist, died for his friends. Sorry to disappoint that is not where this ends. I’m hungry for freedom like never before. The constraints of my deal surely have a backdoor.” strongly imply that he really does care for the residents of the hotel more than he wants to admit even to himself.

He is freaking out because he got too close to dying trying to protect and help people that he never thought he would care at all about and he’s doubling down on his plans from before. 

His immediate desperation to be free implies he is at the hotel because he is forced to be there, but he’s desperate to get out of the contract because he doesn’t like how it’s changing him. Alastor has always put himself first and here he is almost dying trying to protect this hotel and it's rattled him even more deeply than the blow to his pride.

I feel like they know exactly what Alastor can mean thematically and they want you to know he’s a villain while seeding hints there could be change under the surface (ones that Alastor himself is afraid of and wants to double down against). There’s a balancing act going on with him and it seems they really do want to challenge the idea of redemption with him. Not just Charlie’s, but his own as well.

Alastor is still in my opinion the best written character in the series. There’s just so much to unravel with him and he’s the most fun to try and dissect to me. I can’t wait to see what they have planned for him in season 2.

[manicpixiefelix]

head, heart, hand. {Felix Catton/Reader/Oliver Quick}

Part 25.

Summary: Oliver, Farleigh, and matters of pride.

{ masterpost }

Need to Know: They/Them. Explicitly NB Reader. FWB!Reader/Felix. Reader is from a well off family but has pretty much been adopted by the Cattons.

Warnings: non-graphic smut, implied noncon (the Oliver/Farleigh scene), manipulation.

A/N: 3085 words. i really didn't mean for this to be ANOTHER chapter about the henrys dinner however i thought it was important to get an Oliver POV regarding everything that happens between him and farleigh. this was meant to be longer and extend over several more days but i think i'd rather we follow reader for the fallout.

TAGLIST IN COMMENTS!! // TAGLIST ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)

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You've been off all night. Oliver can tell you're trying to hide it, trying to mask your feelings with drinks and the company of the Catton siblings, but he's not blind to you, he never has been. Occasionally, from where he'd been observing the three of you, he sees your gaze land on Farleigh, sees the barest crease of your brow that everyone else seems to miss, and the way you always looked away. Never more than a moment spent on the likes of Farleigh Start.

The same man you seemed to otherwise have all the time in the world for.

Something had happened, something he wasn't privy to, something that occurred in the time you and Farleigh were outside, and Oliver was otherwise occupied with Felix's kindness and attention.

While Oliver never wanted to see you upset, there was a quiet triumph in his chest upon witnessing the disconnect between yourself and Farleigh. Farleigh had tried to drive a wedge in your relationship with Oliver, but it seems as though it had backfired, despite you still believing him over Oliver's attempt at manipulating the truth. Small victories, Oliver thinks to himself.

Perhaps it was overconfidence that lead him to his seat beside Farleigh later that evening. Feeling tipsy and vindictive with his own conversation with you still playing on repeat in his mind, he humours Farleigh's game of 'Fuck, Chuck, or Marry' with the portraits, lets him press against Oliver's side as he murmurs almost knowingly about Richard III's insecurities would lead him to work harder in bed. Every word Farleigh has ever spoken to him after their very first meeting has always been so clearly deliberate and insidious; Oliver's wondering if he's projecting here, while trying once more to psych Oliver out.

But if Farleigh wants to play games, Oliver wants to win.

"Or you could just fuck me?" He offers, voice low, turning from the stern-faced portraits to Farleigh himself after a moment. Farleigh is rather beautiful when drunk in his own right and caught off-guard. There's something so deliciously tempting in his big, brown eyes, something suddenly dangerous about how close this beautiful boy was sitting in this moment. But he could never trust Farleigh's intentions, especially not now.

And clearly Farleigh didn't trust his either. Clever boy. Too clever for his own good.

"Why'd you tell Y/N about me and Venetia?" He asks plainly. Watching Farleigh's mind try to come up with a justification was fascinating; it seems even he knows that Oliver won't believe whatever lie he comes up with.

"Well, I didn't think they'd react that badly -"

"Yes, you did," Oliver cuts him off without a second of hesitation, and already Farleigh's lips are twisting into an amused smile, but Oliver's not done, "you knew they'd run right to Felix about it too, didn't you?"

"Of course I did," the look in Farleigh's eyes is far meaner than his sly smile, something unexpectedly sharp there. A nerve struck; what had you and he said to each other earlier? But Oliver keeps his façade up, lets his face drop; if Farleigh reads guilt in his disappointment, that's on him. For a moment, just a single moment, he thinks he can see a flicker of apology cross Farleigh's delicate features as Oliver sighs softly. His gaze drops.

"You know, if you ever wanna talk to anyone, you can talk to me, Farleigh," he offers softly, expression open and honest as he once more meets Farleigh's gaze. An imitation of an olive branch.

"What do you mean?" There it is, that distrustful look that Oliver had expected. Farleigh's well aware of how observant Oliver is, it wouldn't be a stretch for him to figure out he'd picked up on the tension between you and him, the wedge between supposed best friends. Oliver lets the unspoken implications alone apply pressure to that wedge for just a moment before he changes tact in his continued effort to disarm this man.

"Well, I know you're going through a hard time at home, I know how that feels," Oliver allows himself to be read as vulnerable in this moment, "when things are so precarious," he sighs deeply, gaze wandering as if lost in thought, and not carefully catalogues each minute change in Farleigh's expression, "it's terrifying... and lonely," and he meets Farleigh's almost disbelieving gaze. Farleigh was not so easily lead, it seemed, but the challenge of him is almost thrilling, "and it must be so fucking weird feeling like you have to ask them for everything," and your words about Farleigh's pride echo through Oliver's mind as he drops his gaze, "I know how demeaning it can feel."

A spark of recognition in Farleigh's eyes, something surprised and just a little pained for reasons even beyond Oliver, before they settle into something that almost looks like regret.

"And I know you fuckin' hate me -" Oliver starts, but suddenly the regret is no longer just in Farleigh's eyes, his whole expression softening for just a moment as he tries to deny it.

"I... I don't hate you," his voice is uncharacteristically sincere, as is the look in his eyes. Perfect. This is exactly where Oliver wants him. Despite his better instincts, Oliver wants to forge this connection, wants this common ground, needs Farleigh on side. Both of them love you and Felix; they're going to be in each other's lives whether they like it or not, and Oliver's fucking sick of fighting Farleigh on that at every turn.

"But," Oliver lets his tone soften to something sincere, as if to appreciate the admission before attempting to double down on this fragile moment of connection, "if you ever wanted me to talk to them to see if there's..." he sighs, searching for the right words to appear as earnest as he's able, "if I can help in any way..." Farleigh's too proud to ever ask, so Oliver knows he can't do any more than imply he should do as much. Instead, he adds, "even Y/N," for good measure.

Something shifts in Farleigh's expression, a hint of skepticism.

"Even Y/N?" But his tone is strange, unreadable, gaze still boring into Oliver's.

"I know they're too proud to offer," Oliver tells him with the faintest notes of sadness, "too afraid of sounding like their mum, but they love you," he watches the way pain momentarily flickers in Farleigh's eyes, "I can talk to them too."

He hopes Farleigh can hear the intention in his words; they all love you, so I'm willing to do right by you.

After a beat, Farleigh laughs softly, finally tearing his gaze from Oliver, the movement of his head too quick for Oliver to read his reaction properly. Alas, the moment is broken, Farleigh is standing, and Oliver just hopes his words have had their intended effect. At the very least, he's sure he's subtly needled Farleigh's insecurities enough for him to reconsider his ongoing cruelty towards Oliver.

Except in the next few moments, it's made clear that he'd pushed him too far. He doesn't trust the look in Farleigh's eyes as he's pulling Oliver up to sing whatever song he's chosen, but Oliver reluctantly goes along with it. There's alarm bells in the back of his head as he plays along, wanting to believe that this isn't some kind of trap, that this is really Farleigh trying to connect with him in some way.

Nervous with microphone in hand, he scans the room as the song's opening plays. The tightness in his chest eases when he spots Felix in the corner of the room by the bar cart with you and Venetia, smiling at him warmly, encouragingly. But only after he begins to sing does his gaze focus upon you, and his blood runs cold. Amid the cheering of the Catton siblings beside you, and the others around the room, you're not looking at Oliver, you're looking at Farleigh, and you're fucking furious.

But the song's begun now, even if he's not entirely listening to the lyrics, he can't stop in front of all these people, can he? But his attention turns back to the little screen and he reads the words as he sings, voice faltering -

"I love you-" oh. Farleigh really fucking hated him, "you pay my rent."

Farleigh cheers obnoxiously from the side of the room, and Oliver actually sees you make a start to move towards him, but Felix holds you back. The sight of your furious indignation on his behalf does little to ease the shame and embarrassment that flares up in him in this moment. All he can think to do is spitefully insist that Farleigh finish the song, that it's his song too after all, but Farleigh's high on the victory and completely without shame as he accepts his place in the spotlight.

All Oliver wants to do is just disappear, hot, angry tears pricking his eyes as he absconds through the nearest door. He needs to get out of this suffocating house, away from these entitled assholes, he needs fresh air -

"Ollie, mate -" he couldn't even hear Felix's footsteps running to catch up with him, only hearing him when his hand is on Oliver's shoulder, "that was fucked -"

"It's fine, Felix," Oliver tries to insist, even as Felix turns him around to face him.

"It's not fine, it was fucking cruel is what it was," Felix holds him steady by the shoulders, but Oliver just hangs his head. There's no way he's letting Felix see him cry over this, especially after he'd just bore witness to Farleigh's thorough public humiliation of him.

"I'll be fine, really, I just need some air and some space," Oliver reiterates, trying to step back. Felix lets him go; Oliver can almost picture his crestfallen look, but still doesn't have the nerve to look up.

"Ollie," Felix's voice is so soft, so apologetic. Oliver wants nothing more than to hold him tightly, hear him reassure that Farleigh was being a cunt and that no-one thinks of him like that, even if Oliver knows that it's not true, that you and Felix are the only ones that see him as anything more than just a pretty, little charity case. Felix would believe himself, though; he was far too earnest for the rest of his family half the time. It's one of the countless things he's come to love about Felix.

He takes another step back.

"I just need to be alone for a bit," Oliver's voice softens, fighting back the urge to sniffle, "I'll be fine, Felix, I promise."

"Will you come find me later? Please?"

Oliver has no idea what he's going to do in the next five minutes let alone beyond that. But he nods.

"Maybe," is what he says, "I promise I'll be okay; if I don't see you tonight, we'll still hang out tomorrow."

"Okay," Felix sounds almost disappointed, before he sighs deeply. His concern is quickly turning back to irritation as his thoughts seem to be returning to his cousin, "you know I love you, mate."

"I know," Oliver agrees, "love you too, Felix," and he walks away, because he knows Felix would wait in this moment forever if Oliver let him, unable to properly leave his clearly upset friend even if dismissed. A loyal dog in his own right when he wanted to be.

Sitting in the garden, Oliver's sense of shame crystalises into fury with each deep breath he takes. The absolute audacity of Farleigh to do that to him, and after all the trouble he's been causing you and Felix lately! Prideful prick.

So certain of his place in their lives, Oliver knew the only thing that would ever really matter to Farleigh is losing it. The cruelty was almost predictable at this point, Oliver's actually foolish to have not seen it coming. Oliver feels as though he should never have believed you for the supposed kindness you saw in Farleigh; like Felix you were too loving, too permissive for your own good sometimes. Honestly, Farleigh didn't even deserve your kindness, he thought ruefully.

Oliver couldn't say he hadn't at least tried diplomacy.

After the house had grown quiet and he was sure he wouldn't run into anyone, aside from that uncanny butler, though he seemed incredibly adept at ignoring the strangeness of Saltburn's youth, Oliver heads back to his room. The sound of Felix's door opening makes him start, and he ducks in quickly, closing the door over to avoid whoever it was who was leaving. He knew he was too full of rage to face yours or Felix's kindness in this moment. However, he's surprised to hear Venetia humming to herself, and to see her wearing your navy robe as she trots down the hall towards her own room. Not a second later, Oliver hears the shower on in the adjoining bathroom, and he closes the door, confused, wondering where Felix could have gotten to at the end of the night.

But considering Venetia only made his rage and guilt grow stronger in his gut. Another person who took you for granted, another person who felt entitled to your affection. As much as he tried, he couldn't get to sleep, and his eyes land on the dark shape of the book by his bedside. Saltburn: The Art of Saltburn House, The Catton Collection. It had been left undoubtably by you near the beginning of his stay, and had helped him ingratiate himself to Felix's father as he took an interest in the antiquities Farleigh had simply sneered at. The antiquities Oliver knew the exorbitant value of, and how much that money could theoretically mean to Farleigh, and a plan began to form.

Farleigh would never let him live this night down, Farleigh would never let him live this life with you both that Oliver craved so desperately. Farleigh would never let him live in peace, if he could help it. So Farleigh couldn't be allowed to live here.

Oliver is quick to find his way to Farleigh's room, stalking as quietly as he's able through the grand halls with furious intent. Each time he'd sought it out, you'd always been with Farleigh on the other side, lavishing the bastard with undeserved attention and pleasure. Sinking down, Oliver peers through the keyhole as he'd done time and again, but there's no silhouette of you against the night sky beyond Farleigh's window, just the man himself sleeping soundly.

Unlike you, Oliver does not know Saltburn well enough to slip through it silently, but Farleigh doesn't stir when the door creaks. Farleigh is beautiful and terrible, even as he sleeps.

Oliver had tried to play nice, Farleigh had left him no choice. He would take Farleigh's pride, and his precious place in this house whether he liked it or not.

It's almost disappointing how little of a challenge Farleigh poses. It's almost too easy to break him, to make him submit, to make him obedient. Despite the fact that he'd watched you do it, he hadn't realised how desperate Farleigh was to be under someone's thumb in moments like this, how quickly his resolve would crumble. Oh there's anger, there's push back, but it's a token effort at best. He snarls as Oliver rides him, digging his nails into Oliver's thighs hard enough to draw blood, but he still cums.

"You're fucking sick," he spits breathlessly, but he still has a hand on Oliver's cock, still let's Oliver's cum splatter across his chest without complaint before he shoves him off to clean himself off.

Are you going to behave? He must have Oliver's soft orders playing on repeat in his mind, because he doesn't even complain when he sees Oliver sitting on his bed when he gets back. His scowl is to be expected, but Oliver knows this is his victory, and that it won't be the last for tonight, as he'd already found Farleigh's phone on the windowsill. Opening the curtains, Farleigh cracks open the window before he lights a cigarette.

"You don't fucking love them," Farleigh doesn't even look at him, barking a soft, humourless laugh. Oliver freezes, his expression hard as he looks to Farleigh; his victory feels short-lived as the anger quickly returns at the accusation, "I told them you were just going to use them, and break their fucking hearts, and I was right."

"Watch yourself, Farleigh," Oliver warns sharply, voice low and dangerous.

"And the fucked up part is that if you were honest, they would have let you," Farleigh continues, sounding almost disgusted; with himself, with you and Felix, with Oliver, with the whole situation, "but now they think they're in love, and I just have to watch them crash and burn because of you," taking a long draft of his cigarette, he holds the smoke in his lungs before it spills out around his words, lip curling in derision, "you're a fucking black hole, Oliver."

Oliver watches him finish his smoke and close the window, drawing the blinds once again. He doesn't look at Oliver. He doesn't ask him to leave. He doesn't get it, so he's done with you all; he's broken, he behaves.

"Good night, Farleigh," Oliver says flatly as Farleigh stretches out on the bed beside him, on his side, back to Oliver.

"For the record," Farleigh bites out quietly, "I do hate you." As if it wasn't abundantly clear already. But Oliver remains quiet, despite the absolute outrage Farleigh's words had sparked inside him.

Everything he was doing, he did because he loved you and Felix. Everything.

Laying still and quiet beside Farleigh, he gazes up at the roof, trying to keep his breathing even, listening to Farleigh's own as it grew slow and deep, and Oliver was sure he was asleep. Giving it just a bit more time to make sure, he sits up carefully, making sure not to jostle Farleigh in the slightest, before he reaches for the phone on the windowsill.

Farleigh didn't understand you and Felix, and he certainly didn't deserve any ounce of your attention. Farleigh was a self-serving, entitled creature fuelled by spite and pride; he'd set this house on fire if it would keep him warm, Oliver's sure. So he enacts his plan, sends the email that would spell Farleigh's ruin, and deletes all trace of it from the man's phone before he puts it back where he found it.

And he leaves as quietly as he'd arrived.

[wavytam]

Germa Sanji will not lose his emotions

Okay, I've been thinking about Sanji's change of personality and what exactly it might mean, specially after writing this post and rereading some theories around Tumblr and Twitter.

From early on, we have been induced to believe that, once the Germa genes take over, Sanji will lose his emotions, just like what Judge was trying to do with him from the start, until Sora stopped him.

However, I don't know if this is something that Oda intended on doing, but I don't think the Vinsmoke siblings lost their emotions. I can post a long list of images of them showing emotion and feeling things like joy, lust, disgust, and especially anger.

Niji and Yonji are the best examples of it. They are loud and even childish in their reactions, and children themselves are known to show their emotions more openly.

So they are far from being emotionless. Otherwise, they would all behave differently, like robots that only need to sleep, train and eat.

They laugh, make jokes, they yell when they are mad, they feel satisfied... they felt the need to punish Sanji for being different (which is something that could only be explained by feelings of anger and even disgust)...

So, in my opinion, Judge did not take away their emotions, but their empathy and regard for human life (even theirs). Again, I am not sure whether this is something Oda planned to do or if it's just some type of misunderstanding, but a lot of people already pointed out how we can easily see that the Vinsmokes don't seem emotionless, but rather apathetic.

As I find them, I will link some interesting posts talking about it here.

If this is true, it means that Sanji's "overuse" of his Germa genes might not mean that he will lose his emotions exactly, but something that is his main trait: his kindness and empathy. Which was exactly what sets him apart from his siblings and the reason for Judge to despise him so much.

When he decides to "spare" Sanji's life, instead of just killing him when he was younger, what stopped Judge was, as he himself stated, his human side. So it's possible that what Judge sees as a problem is empathy, kindness, and mercyness.

Back to Egghead, the last time we saw Sanji with his eyebrows switched, he had a somewhat sinister and cruel expression on his face and he himself stated that he would not show mercy to S Shark, even if he was a kid and was a clone of Jimbei.

So I think his Germa personality is not going to be a robot-like, emotionless behavior, but more cocky, overconfident, and... cruel. Which is where the crew will notice the change of his behavior.

I don't really know, however, what exactly he could do for the crew to realize that there's something off besides... well, wasting food, using his hands in a fight or... hurting a woman. All are principles he has based on his kindness and chivalry; with them gone, there's nothing stopping him.

With how things are playing out, my guess is one of the latter options, and well... let's see what happens and how he would be able to break free from that and what would be the moment that he realizes that he's gone too far... should it ever happen ofc.

[ahb-writes]

Book Review: 'Nightblade'

Nightblade by Garrett Robinson

adventure

fantasy

rebellion

revenge

social commentary

My Rating: 2 of 5 stars

An awkwardly eloquent 10-year-old, a gratuitously overconfident runaway, a boorishly mysterious man who refuses to help until the narrative demands it — NIGHTBLADE bears the wan artistry of fantasy literature that stretches itself dangerously thin for the well-wrought pursuit assembling a life and lore that lives long after its characters' wayward exploits have come and gone. Far-off tales of wizards and mystics and magicks tend to go awry like that.

A backwoods girl gets it in her head, for unknown reasons, that she is destined to become the world's greatest thief. Loren might have dreamt it. She might have mixed up old stories she heard from an itinerant peddler. Or she might have imagined it on those long summer days in the Birchwood while chopping wood for her abusive parents. Regardless, Loren contrives, for herself, another persona ("Nightblade"). The rules this persona follows may also have been incomprehensibly dreamt, imagined, or mixed up with the character's other thoughts, but the concept gives the girl comfort.

Naturally, when an opportunity presents itself, Loren absconds from her home in the forest and sets out on a journey in which she meets law-breaking wizards, conniving merchants, shapeshifting bandits, royal guardsmen, and more. NIGHTBLADE cleverly winds a thread of class conflict and a bias of birthright around a narrative whose fantasy setting ironically feels too small for characters whose personalities are, too frequently, turned all of the way up.

One of the novel's most urgent and recurring challenges regard whether its most involved and central characters push and develop the story as effectively as they can. In brief, when an impressionable character only engages others just enough to advance the story, then chances are high that readers are missing more than they are gaining.

For example, does the sly merchant, Damaris Yerrin, bite her tongue because she's an inherently cautious person (e.g., helping Loren escape the authorities without so much as a shrug)? Or does the woman hold back because her experience means she knows and sees more in this fragile runaway than she is willing to speak aloud (e.g., leveling indirect threats when information is needed; preferring half-truths through gritted teeth over full-truths from honest tears)? Hard to say. The role of the helpful antagonist is rendered irrelevant by a character who simply walks away from most instances of genuine resolution or problem solving.

But the danger cuts both ways. Readers snaring little from characters who matter a lot is a frequent problem, but so, too, is the issue of over-trusting readers to ally with the protagonist or her friends. One has little reason for why Loren should invest so much those she rarely knows, much less knows well.

NIGHTBLADE, for example, leans heavily on a homeless street urchin, Gem, whose gift of gab stretches far beyond his station and regularly rubs one the wrong way. Loren knows the kid for but a few days before lamenting her inability to protect him from the city he calls home, inexplicably noting she "could not bear to think" of her ignorance causing him harm (pages 267, 327).

In reality, Gem is an uneducated 10-year-old pickpocket. And yet, by misfortune of the book's structure, he finds himself the main character's only faithful friend. Taking advice from a high-sounding preadolescent braggart sounds like a fun ploy, but when he whispers his incredulity while noisily slurping gruel ("I cannot read the tale of it," page 256), the façade conflicts with its given purpose.

A more conservative view might blame the book's heavy reliance on archaism, the author's insistence on wielding old or manufactured speech patterns, rustic analogies and turns of phrase, uncommon back-formations, and other language tricks. One understands if a random passerby reads this novel's first three pages and sets it aside, never to try again. As with most books, the more of it one reads, the easier the reading goes.

Some excerpts, however, are inherently inscrutable, as when a fearsome opponent casually jests, "That is as may be" (page 180), when, just as easily, they could have said, "Possibly." Or when a character thinks in despair, "Have done with it" (page 275), as opposed to the simpler, more direct, "Kill me." Other excerpts are utterly graceless, such as the echoes of racism one finds in passages describing a little girl as "a tiny thing with skin as black as night" (page 65) and of a bodyguard with "skin, like the girl's, [that] nearly glowed in its darkness" (page 65). Not good.

The story's language is a part of the book's fantasy culture, true, but that doesn't necessarily make it any easier to engage.

In terms of structure, NIGHTBLADE is a bit of a wanderer. Loren finds her way to a city, called Cabrus, some days away from her home in the Birchwood forest. She meets all sorts of shady folks (who steal her belongings), royal guardsmen (who hunt a wizard she sort-of befriended), and token "mysterious strangers" (who smirk confidently, speak grandiosely of fated meetings, and are then promptly removed from the scene). This umbrella of events is easy to discern from afar, but in the mix, one must recall NIGHTBLADE stretches nearly 400 pages.

The novel jumps from incident to incident, problem to problem, as Loren's bad luck continuously mixes her fortunes with individuals often destined for a jail cell. The connected dilemmas prove problematic early and often, as the book refuses to resolve many of the incidents in which Loren finds herself in favor of kick-starting other, newer problems.

These other problems, when introduced, look and feel more existential than the last. And as a consequence, readers are duped into forgetting unresolved or unexplained encounters, which, at the time, completely shifted the story's direction.

Readers forget to ask why Xain, a wizard of some standing, is running away from the King and his soldiers, when the king's soldiers start hunting Loren instead. Readers forget to ask why Gregor, a muscled bodyguard to the merchant Damaris, is so unreasonably suspicious of the forest girl from the instant they meet, when readers are shown Damaris is as awkwardly devoted to Gregor as he is to her. Other examples abound, and while the tension may be viable, the willful forgetting is not.

Tension is the author's strong suit. The novel has plenty of chase scenes, hide scenes, sneak scenes, and so forth. But they tend to pile up on one another. Convenience is often the bane of such stories, for characters who get into trouble through such matters are invariably saved by the same contrivances. And NIGHTBLADE is full of contrivances. One might go insane attempting to count the number of times characters leap out of the shadows, jump out from around a corner, emerge from a panel in a wall, crawl over the edge of a roof, or simply appear out of nowhere to grab someone on the run, about to run, or in hiding. Perhaps it's no surprise that after 300 arduous pages of running from her perceived antagonists, Loren conjures an idea to set them against one another. Indeed, for most of the book, readers have lived the same nightmare.

NIGHTBLADE relies on vague character aspirations and incomplete character dynamics to drive an adventure story rooted in all sorts of political, social, and economic commentary. Perhaps this amounts to the inevitably short lifespan of that first pebble of a coming avalanche, but the novel's overextended rhetorical flair and loose grasp of character development are but petty conflicts to consider should a greater narrative blossom hereafter.

❯ ❯ Book Reviews

[guideoftime]

sage of shadows.

   Sheik’s decision to become the Sage of Shadows was entirely linked to Princess Zelda and Link and his emotional / mental place with them. Initially, right after waking back up ten years old, Sheik had struggled immensely. Overwhelmed with the memories, his body not responding how he needed it to, it led him to be reckless. His tiny body was unable to handle the adult emotions crushing through him and it led to him lashing out. He picked fights, primarily with the guards, took his anger out on training and breaking things in Impa’s house. He blamed her, he blamed Zelda, it was easier to blame everyone around him until that anger eventually focused inward on himself. 

   Eventually, when the anger settled and he was left with only his thoughts and memories that anger turned to guilt and self-hatred. His problems with how he handled the journey with Link, his problems with being unable to help Zelda now, all of it piled up inside him and he felt a bit like it was crushing him. He tried though, he did try to live a normal life. Because that was what they had fought for, it’s what Link sacrificed for, and to immediately give up felt like an insult to all of that. So he tried to stand beside Zelda, to be the Queensguard and a Sheikah Warrior. 

   But it really wasn’t meant for him. Sheik is a restless person, he constantly is on edge, looking over his shoulder and worrying. He’s reckless with his own life, overconfident in fighting, he willingly gives too much of himself for his duty to the Royal Family and that isn’t something he can just turn off. Even when Zelda needed him to, even when she needs more of a person than she does a soldier at her side. Sheik could tell she missed Impa, if she didn’t outright say it the way she looked at him expecting someone else did. 

   He went to the Kokiri Forest before he went to the Temple, wanting to see the Hero at least once, and there the Great Deku Tree informed him that Link went to Termina. Link leaving Hyrule entirely, as if he was trying to escape everything, all of them, was a bit of the breaking point. Every connection he had was shattered, every person he knew eventually left, the last thing he could do at the very least to fix any of it was to give Zelda back Impa. So that the Princess could finally have her heart settled and the person that mattered to her most. So that Impa could be free and try to rebuild their Tribe. So that there was some sort of balance to all of this. 

   To Sheik, in the grand scheme of things, his life was far less valuable than the rest of it all and he really had nothing left to live for. 

   So he went to the Shadow Temple, he trekked his way to the Sanctum and he sat there and prayed with the Goddess Harp until someone listened to him. Until he was finally allowed into the Sacred Realm and the Goddesses granted him the chance to change places with Impa. It’s not a decision he regrets, it’s not one he’ll ever regret. He can’t let himself, because there is no taking it back. It’s never something he’ll be able to undo. But more than that, he genuinely believes it was the right decision. The choice that he had to make and should have been from the very beginning. 

   I do believe that once inside the Temples the Sages can’t leave unless they’re replaced (at least in Ocarina of Time) since it seems they become higher beings in some regard. Spirits, at the least, immortal deities on other levels. That seems reflected in most (?) of the games, BOTW/TOTK is the first (that I know) where they seem to function outside the Temples. In (WW) Medli and Makar even say they have to stay there to pray to the Master Sword. So that’s where I go off of that. 

[inhcritance]

There was little avoiding the talk, if they listened, and while Harry knew most of what the press knew -and far more, for obvious reasons- he knew better than to grow overconfident. Especially given the way it had been a defeat, one he was glad for.

He was even more glad that Peter seemed to be okay, and he nodded in commiseration: keeping an eye on the news was important, for all that Harry had people for that. Not that he didn't do it himself a lot of the time.

And not that he wasn't going to have to give a small press statement if anything was traced back to Oscorp, if his father didn't decide to give it himself, and go with whatever cover they told him for any potential police statement that could be required... not that it tended to be the case. Especially with the broken drive, that Harry made sure to bring back irrecoverably broken.

It was as Peter lowered his voice that Harry regarded him for a moment, then looked forward again, just in case.

"Officially speaking, that passage doesn't exist and I didn't find it." He settled for, voice just as low. "I was too busy babysitting people with far too much power." He exhaled. "And getting distracted by tiny robots." He added, tone more appreciative now. "That was smart."

@localwebslingers

The smile brightened a little, as much as it could on the few sips of coffee Peter had managed to get down for himself, "You're welcome, I'm just sorry that it won't be kicking in before class starts." not enough time even if they downed their respective cups before they reached the front doors of the building. With luck, it would at least kick in at the halfway point. If not? There were so many coffee places around campus that it would be easy to get more to try and keep going for a little longer.

He hummed around another sip and nodded, "I heard some talk about it when I was in line." that was the other part about news on campus. A lot of it was just retelling what was read about or seen in the news that morning, but a good chunk was also the guessing and theorizing as to what happened. Peter was sure there would be rumors about what might have happened going around most of the day at this rate.

"I'm okay, just tired." he assured, "I was up trying to do some homework, and then decided to try and check up on news sites and police updates on everything. There wasn't a lot but..." it was at least a way to try and keep track of things. Something he was sure Oscorp themselves were still doing now to be ready with a statement if something threatened to trace back to them. In theory it wouldn't, or would at least be a lot harder to do so, with the files there being wiped clean. The decoy being broken, there was no threat of Spider-Man following through on his threat to leak the information either.

At least not as far as they knew.

Peter was quiet a moment and looked over at Harry, keeping his voice softer, "...did you guys end up finding the passage out of the building?"

|| @inhcritance ||

[lunaastoir]

Hi! I really enjoy your writing so is it alright if i request xiao, diluc, childe with an idol s/o where one of their old stalkers come back or they just recently had a stalker in general but with how busy they were since they’re an idol they don’t even notice? And something bad happens (i cant think of anything</3) Thank you very much !!

hi anon!! a million apologies since this is so late but i hope you like the fic <3

there also aren’t any explicit details for anything bad happening - i briefly touched on subjects that you may not have control over, i hope that’s ok! 

warning (?): struggled a bit on this prompt so i apologize in advance if this isn’t my best work LMAOO

gn! reader

tw: hints of assault, slight angst, very light abuse if you squint

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

xiao

now xiao is a very observant man but he's also extremely busy keeping liyue safe

he makes it a point to always come to your shows even if you don't actively see him bc he cares a lot abt you and he enjoys listening to your music ‼️

it's normal for him to sometimes get lost between his own world of demonslaying and the world he shares w you

so one night, he's hanging on the rafters of a house with the perfect view of your singing

everything goes smoothly, he sets his spear down while lightly swaying his head to the music

the concert ends and fans disperse after you say your farewells

a night like this is rare since for once, xiao can walk home w you back to the inn sweet boy really cleared out his schedule for you huh

you're unsurprised when you see him materialize next to you, opting to flash him a smile and a hello

his cheeks are lightly flushed as he crosses his arms before talking quietly about how well you did

he relishes in the wide smile you give him as a result of his praise and he lets the corners of his lips curve upwards slightly

the quiet bustle of the harbor seemed to slow down as the night grew longer

since this was a fairly large concert, you had boxes among boxes of equipment so xiao decided to make your life easier by quickly flying them to their appropriate locations

when he got back however, he was surprised to see you talking animatedly with someone

he didn't think anything was wrong until he saw the person trap you between the stage and words filtered into his ears

your back was painfully pressed against the stage wall as you defiantly met their gaze. after xiao had left, they had immediately come over to you: first introducing themselves as a fan and making amiable conversation, before divulging in personal details of your life that made your skin crawl. you weren’t helpless, you always had your weapon on hand regardless of whether you were performing or not. the way they pushed you against the wall however, made it near impossible to summon your sword should you need it. 

they leered down at you while balancing an arm against the wall next to your head. you had dealt with things like this before so you weren’t overly worried; you could defend yourself. you almost felt pity for the person in front of you as they asked for your number with a sadistic grin, disgusting words tumbling off of their lips. however, that was before you felt their cold fingers idly make their way to your stomach and you felt your breath hitch. oh no

the telltale sound of whooshing alerted you of xiao’s presence, and the press of the tip of his spear against their jugular brought you relief. 

“back away” he tightly growled while his golden eyes narrowed into slits. they stared at him in shock before holding their hands up and moving to step a foot away from you. 

“farther” he motioned with his spear before stepping in front of you as you attempted to collect yourself. 

“ok ok, i’m far away can you put your spear down now?” 

“no.” 

you mentally cursed as you watched the two of them glare at each other. this was supposed to be a carefree night but this unfortunate twist made the air thick with tension. you could feel the anger radiate off of xiao in waves and in an effort to deescalate the situation, you spoke. 

“i’m glad to meet such an...avid fan but i’m sorry the two of us must get going now” you hastily said before attempting to grab xiao’s hand and walk off past them. 

the next words had you halt your steps as they divulged their secret. 

words painted in careless arrogance with hints of violet overconfidence flew out of the person’s mouth - “judging from the weeks i’ve been following you, it didn’t seem like you had a boyfriend”

at the mere mention of prolonged stalking, xiao immediately lunged to pull you behind him. god, he didn’t kill mortals but he swore if he plunged his spear into this human being right here, no one would even blink twice considering how low of a person they were. 

“if i ever see you near them again, i will not hesitate to kill you. i won’t blink twice, i already have blood on my hands.” he ground out.

at the threat, the person grudgingly turned their back to you before leaving the two of you alone in the quiet harbor. 

you carefully reached a hand out to touch your boyfriend’s shoulder, but stopped after you saw the expression on his face. the mix of rage, sadness, and anguish imprinted his features as you watched his chest rapidly rise and fall - a result of his emotional battle. 

“i’m sorry i didn’t notice them before. i should’ve been paying more attention to you” he whispered before silently striding away from your grasp 

you knew that no matter how many reassurances you gave him about how, “it’s not your fault xiao, i didn’t notice them either” he would still blame himself. 

he was supposed to protect you right? so why couldn’t he sense the danger beforehand? what would’ve happened if he wasn’t there?

it’s still a learning process for him to realize that things happen, and he inevitably couldn’t be there to save you from everything. he needs time to understand and adjust. you’re willing to wait, patiently helping him through it. why? because love is worth it. 

god im sorry this ended up kinda sad whoops

diluc 

i swear everytime i say i’m a childe simp diluc kinda wrecks me

ahem anyways onto the hc!

he’s kinda never around but similar to xiao he will overwork himself to clear out an hour or two just to watch your concerts 

he’ll always stand off to the side too so if you tilt your head while you’re singing you can spy his red hair 

you always flash him the sweetest smile and this man blushes like CRAZY before quickly lifting his hand up to give you a thumbs up 

everyone watching the both of you like 😍😦

people think it’s the cutest thing i swear like c’mon the elusive “bachelor of mondstadt” being seen in public supporting you??? wow pls can we share him

he walks with you back to the winery, the entire time linking his hands with yours while gushing about your performance 

1939248/10 it’s literally the sweetest thing 

the next day however, adelinde brings you a pink letter addressed to you 

he doesn’t pry because it’s addressed to you and it’s your business but as the letters start coming by everyday, he starts to grow curious 

one day he straight up just asks you about it

“hey, you know those pink letters you keep getting? who are they from?”

you laugh slightly at his bashfulness and respond with a “just some overexcited fan” and he smiles before kissing your forehead 

he loves that people are noticing your talent 

loves it! until you get stalked by the same person who wrote you those letters while you were shopping!

diluc knows something’s wrong when you rush into angel’s share panicked after not returning his usual smile. 

“darling? are you ok?” he asks worriedly before quickly setting down the glass he was cleaning to move towards you. 

the widening of your eyes as you looked behind you at the sounds of someone else entering was all he needed to swiftly step in front of you, blocking their gaze of your face. 

the slightly panicked look in your eyes before you hurriedly whispered, “they’re following me” made diluc glance at them subtly out of the corner of his eye. he watched as they walked over to find a seat next to the bar, seemingly ready to order a drink. he quietly asked if you would like to sit in the room reserved for the employees, away from their prying eyes. your hasty nod was all the confirmation he needed for him to let you access the door behind him. 

the night went by fairly smoothly with kaeya’s usual teasing and venti’s usual begging for alcohol. diluc’s eyes narrowed however, when the person seemed to ask him questions regarding you. things like, “i heard you’re dating y/n... they’re amazing, how long have you been together?” and “do they live with you at dawn winery?” diluc answered these questions as short as he could, trying to convey with his body language that he truly did not want to talk to them. 

everything was going well until he made the mistake of leaving the bar unattended. he had briefly forgotten about your residence in the room behind him as his mind immediately gravitated to breaking up a brawl. when he returned, the half drunk glass of liquor combined with the person’s absence from their seat, caused sparks of worry to light up inside his chest. 

turning to the door, he knocked once. 

“is everything alright in there love?”

the sounds of things rustling about and the occasional muffled voice had him opening the door quickly. he saw you with your arm being held tightly in their grasp, your mouth muffled with their hand, while you strained against them by pulling at your arm. 

diluc immediately made his way over to you, quickly pulling your arm away before letting you enter into his embrace. 

“get out.” the venomous words clawed their way out of his throat as he looked at them with eyes that screamed hatred. his blood was boiling as his mind replayed the scene; your scared expression and their greedy eyes. 

diluc didn’t need to repeat himself twice as they ran out, trying not to trip over crates of wine. he made a mental note to find out who they were in order to make sure they never came near you ever again. 

he quickly looked down at your form, relaxing slightly at the sight of your tentative smile. “my knight in shining armor” you joked before softly nuzzling your head into his shoulder. the anger had yet to dissipate from his veins, and although he knew you were still shaken up, he was sure you would be fine. 

a pink letter placed on the table next to you caught his eye, and he made sure to quickly pocket it as he led you out, gently jesting with you about the “unnecessary amount of wine barrels in here, diluc this is a safety hazard!” 

he would deal with this person later. 

childe

ayo AYO ITS THE TOY SALESMAN

ok tbh he’s very rarely around so he unfortunately cannot make it to all of your shows 

dw tho, he will try his hardest to be there for the ones he’s in town for bc what is he if not your number one hype king??? 

ok kinda creepy! alert 

he’s tasked two of his subordinates to keep watch over you whenever he’s out of the harbor

it’s not anything creepy,,, he just gets extremely worried abt you and wants to make sure you’re safe 

sO when he gets a ransom note??? he’s understandably confused but also very much freaked out 

bc did they not know who he was??? the fact that they thought they could get away with holding you captive was quite honestly kind of funny to him 

very stressed and angry tho - hides it behind a facade of smiles but he’s raging 

takes him only a few hours to track you down bc he had everyone and i mean EVERYONE looking for you 

the note crunched in his hand as the harbinger made his way towards windrise. his pace was erratic, long legs rushing towards the small cave his agents had found. they were bordering the perimeter of the enclosure, careful to not alert you or your captor of their presence. childe’s subordinate head had calmly stated that childe need not come out to rescue you, the situation was under control and they could do it for him. however, childe’s sharp gaze along with his sickly sweet words of “thanks but no. i’m coming out to see this sorry asshole for myself” had the agent backing away apologizing. he wanted to see the look on this person’s face before he shoved their sorry ass into the abyss himself. 

as he reached the opening of the cave, he glanced over his shoulder at his head agent; a silent warning to keep the area sealed. his blue eyes glinted with a thirst for blood before making his way into the cave, sealing off the exit with his body. 

“well well, playing games with the love of my life are we?” 

his teasing words reached your ears as your eyes immediately found the face of your boyfriend. you weren’t horribly scared, just a little shaken up and sore from the bindings on your wrists. relief coursed through your body at the sight of him. you needn’t put in your plan of getting out of these bindings to fight your captor yourself anymore. 

childe’s eyes quickly scanned over your frame, making sure you weren’t hurt. at the state of you completely unharmed, the harbinger let his heart calm down slightly. you were completely ok. 

“wait a little longer, love? i promise this will be over soon”

the wink he sent you had you lightly rolling your eyes at his antics before he directed his attention back to your kidnapper. if your captor wasn’t scared before, they were certainly shaking in their boots now at the sight of childe’s twin hydro blades rotating playfully in his hands. 

“listen, all i want is the money-”

“and all i want is your head” 

your boyfriend smiled after cutting them off. the severity of the situation truly seemed to sink in at that moment before pleas of mercy fell from your captor’s lips, desperate to escape the bloodthirsty gaze of the harbinger. childe’s eyes flickered over to yours where you sat there, with your head ferociously shaking. a silent “no.” he sighed before swiftly bringing his arm up to hit your captor on the head, effectively knocking them out cold. 

his hands worked at the ropes holding you and he gingerly rubbed at your bruised wrists. you silently thanked the archons he could never say no to you. archons forbid what would've happened if you hadn’t said anything. while you were explaining what happened, the young man quickly scooped you up in his arms before walking out of the cave. 

you playfully hit his shoulder while muttering “drama queen” but you stopped when you saw his face morph into an expression of seriousness. you had informed him on the situation about your captor revealing themselves to be a recent stalker of yours, completely oblivious to the look of frustration on his face as he freed you from your bondages. 

“i was scared you know.” he quietly divulged. “i knew that it wasn’t anything extremely serious but i... i was still scared”

you swore as you looked at him in that moment, he had turned ten again. the youth of his face betraying his vulnerability. 

you quietly hummed before tangling your fingers in his hair. “i hope you know it wasn’t your fault. it wasn’t anyone’s fault. not even the two fatui agents who you sent to stalk me while you were away.”

he quietly laughed at that before mentally filing away a reminder for a lecture to those two agents in the near future. 

“i’m just glad you’re safe. i know you can save yourself but i’ll always be here. i still wish you would let me take care of your asshole kidnapper myself though.” he pouted jokingly. 

“i’m sure the millelith will lock them up for a long time.” you laughed sweetly. 

his usual smile reappeared at your antics. maybe he didn’t get to beat your captor up and do...much worse. however at the end of the day, your smile was still intact regardless of what happened. that’s all he wanted. 

[hafanforever]

The Man Without a Brain

Introduction

Among the villains in the Disney animated canon, there are those that are truly intelligent in terms of brains and intellectualism if they possess a great deal of knowledge due to being educated and having undergone many different experiences in life. Some of them are even more intelligent if they possess high skills in manipulation, calculation, and cunning, and a good example of this kind of villain is Hans. However, for other villains, even if they are manipulative, calculating, and cunning, it does not always mean they are intelligent, and one shining example of this type of villain is Gaston.

Yes, despite what anyone believes, and I cannot stress this enough, Gaston is NOT intelligent. He is calculating, cunning, and manipulative, yes, I’ll admit that. But intelligent? NO!!! Throughout the film, Belle proves herself to be far smarter than him due to her intelligence being based almost entirely on strong intellectualism, logic, knowledge, and wit. The benefits Belle has gained from reading books over the years include an elevated vocabulary, an open, unprejudiced mind, and the ability to be a quick-thinker, which proves useful when it comes to her making retorts with little hesitation. But none of these things apply to Gaston. Heck, while you can describe Belle as the one with beauty and brains, Gaston has beauty AND brawn…but no brains! He has built up all his major muscles, but his only muscle that he’s never bothered to exercise is his mind! 😆🤣

What makes Gaston stupid is how overconfident, proud, egotistical, narcissistic, and arrogant he is as a very handsome, strong, muscular man with superb skills in hunting and killing animals. He seems to believe that all he needs to be a “good” man is his handsome appearance and great physical strength, and so he dismisses reading, intelligence, ideas, and anything and everything related to intellectualism as stupid and unnecessary. Gaston carries such a high, superior opinion of himself which is further exacerbated from the townspeople admiring him and regarding him as the best, most popular man in the village. This status has him extremely convinced that he really is the best of the best, and so much so that no one can ever surpass him or refuse him for anything. He particularly has so much of this pride since his good looks and superficial charm has almost all of the young, attractive, single girls in town falling at his feet and swooning over him. (On the side, Gaston’s overconfidence and arrogance in his strength makes him foolish enough to underestimate the Beast’s great size and strength during the climax.) But while Belle is the only woman who never shows any interest in or attraction to him, Gaston is fully convinced, to the point of being extremely delusional (as part of his stupidity and another result of his overconfidence), that Belle is truly no different from the other girls and is in love with him, too.

Unlike everyone else in town, and especially unlike the Bimbettes, Belle, from the very beginning of the film, is the only person who is not immune to Gaston’s arrogant, vain, egotistical, pompous, misogynistic nature, and easily sees all of his faults behind his handsome, muscular appearance. Because of her smarts, she never judges people based on their appearance, but by their character. Despite being a handsome man, Gaston gives off a lot of personality traits that Belle easily recognizes and detests, so she does not see him as a catch nor does she want anything to do with him. But little does Belle know that she is the only woman on whom Gaston has set his sights and that he strongly desires her hand in marriage.

So now I want to talk about the moments in Beauty and the Beast that best show how Gaston isn’t smart and how his overconfidence, pride, and arrogance constantly gets the better of him, especially when he is outsmarted by Belle. It has turned out to be longer than I anticipated, so I have decided to add the “Keep reading” feature. Hold on to your hats, and enjoy reading what lies ahead! 😁😄😉

Insult Without Injury

The first example of Gaston’s lack of intelligence in the film is when he tries to court Belle; specifically, it is when she calls him “positively primeval” after he insults her love of books and says women shouldn’t read. While he takes it as a compliment and consequently thanks her for it (probably because she calls him “positively” first), Belle is shown wearing a surprised expression (i.e.; an inaudible gasp and widening of her eyes) on her face immediately afterwards. Her reaction obviously means that she called Gaston this word as an insult, albeit in a subtly, politely, and mildly sarcastic manner. At the same time, it shows he clearly doesn’t know what the word means and thus is ignorant to the fact that she is actually demeaning him. This not only proves Gaston’s idiocy so well, but that his vocabulary skills are nowhere near as high as those of Belle.

Belle calls Gaston “primeval” as a retort to him making sexist remarks about how it’s wrong for women to become smart, think, and get ideas. As an adjective, one of the definitions of primeval is “primitive”, both of which mean “belonging to the origins of time and man”. What Belle means by this word is that she thinks Gaston has such a backward way of thinking that he must be from the prehistoric age. In layman’s terms, she is calling him a Neanderthal, ultimately confirming that she said it to offend him, not to compliment him. Furthermore, “Neanderthal” is also a term used to describe a barbaric, uncouth, unintelligent person, and those terms, especially the last one, all fit Gaston to a T. So essentially, he continues to prove his idiocy, limited vocabulary, and unfamiliarity with sophisticated vocabulary and terms like “primeval” perfectly when he assumes that Belle is praising him! 😆😆😆

In the Marvel Comics of Beauty and the Beast, which take place during Belle’s time at the castle, most of the issues have Gaston continuing to pursue Belle, even though he is unaware she is no longer in the village. Several times, he voices his extreme confidence that Belle is truly just like all the women in town by being in love with him, despite her not showing it. In the issue “Lyrical Love”, a similar situation of Belle insulting Gaston, which he mistakes as a compliment, occurs in a memory Belle remembers (as shown in the image below): he insults her love of books and says it’s unattractive for women to get smart, and she responds by saying he is “positively a boor”, and he thanks her for the “compliment” before he replies, “I adore you, too.”

Although I have doubts that these comics are canon since what happens in them contradicts the film in terms of scene order and dialogue, I wanted to mention this particular comic page since it is almost identical to the dialogue between Belle and Gaston in the movie. Specifically, Gaston misunderstands Belle’s insult not just by assuming it to be a word of admiration, but he responds with a word that rhymes to twist what Belle says into thinking she is proclaiming how much she loves him, which he is only glad to “reciprocate”.

The scene in the film and this similar exchange in the comics got me thinking further about how much I seriously believe that Gaston genuinely doesn’t know what words like “boor” and “primeval” mean (which continues to prove his stupidity and anti-intellectualism). In thinking about this so much, I suspect that, in his attempts to try and hit it off with Belle, whenever she uses these kinds of terms, Gaston twists them around to make it sound like she is commending and admiring him when she is unmistakably doing nothing of the kind. But since Gaston is in complete denial that Belle does not like him, he misinterprets her negative words as positive ones just so he can get his way. If he mistakes a word like “boor” for “adore” (since she says, “a boor”, which almost sounds like “adore”), I think that when she calls him “primeval”, he thinks she is calling him “primal”, which means “primary” or “of greatest importance”...and we all know Gaston thinks he has great importance for obvious reasons. 😉

My Big Fat Failed Wedding

Right after thanking her for her “compliment”, Gaston tries to persuade Belle into coming with him to the tavern for a date, and his unintelligence continues to show afterwards, partly as somewhat of a precursor to his next scene, where he makes his marriage proposal to her. When he makes his invitation, Gaston subtly displays his desire to dominate and control Belle (since he believes men are supposed to control their girlfriends and wives) when he puts his arm around her, forces her to walk with him, and grabs her book from her (again) and tries to keep it out of her reach. But Belle, having quickly deduced what Gaston is trying to do, manages to resist his efforts by taking her book back, pulling her wrist out of the grip of his hand, and saying that she definitely cannot go with him. In this moment, mainly by how she successfully fights him for her book and to make him let go of her arm, Gaston is given clear evidence that Belle is not interested in him and will not give in if he tries to force something on her, especially to give up reading since she loves it. Yet while he becomes frustrated and disappointed that he fails to charm and woo Belle, Gaston does not take her rebuffs very seriously. He does not see them as a true rejection, or even as a complete lack of interest in him. This may be because Belle is kind, polite, and gentle when she turns him down. If anything, her good manners probably made Gaston think that Belle’s refusal is just an act, that she is playing a game of “playing hard to get” with him, and that she is only feigning disinterest in him. (This concept is also supported by him quoting such words almost verbatim in some other Marvel Comics.) Therefore, Gaston remains wholly certain that he can win Belle’s heart, that he can convince her to stop reading, and that he can mold her into being the exact kind of woman he wants her to be as his wife.

So then come the next scene, Gaston is revealed to have organized a whole wedding, from decorations to a priest to guests for attendance, outside her house to surprise her, and all BEFORE he even makes his marriage proposal! Moreover, before he goes inside Belle’s house, he agrees with LeFou’s comment that she will get the surprise of her life, saying “This is her lucky day!” And lastly, when he finally goes into her house to make his proposal, Gaston announces to Belle that today is the day her dreams comes true, then claims he knows “Plenty!” about them right before he describes his ideal life as a married man, including that he and his “little wife”, who will do things for him like massage his feet, have six to seven sons. Gaston’s anti-intellectualism and lack of intelligence is also displayed when he announces his desired number and gender of children, as he says it such a way that he is 100% confident that having this many children all be boys and not girls is a guarantee (see this analysis for more information).

The entire scene, starting from him organizing the whole wedding to saying that he knows exactly what kind of dreams she has, not only shows that Gaston still thought he could change Belle and didn’t take her initial refusal seriously, but also that he is WHOLLY certain that he knows her very well enough to believe that she is in love with him and shares his visions of married life. As a result, he firmly believed that she would agree to become his wife and would want to marry him immediately, which is why he had the whole wedding ceremony prearranged. Gaston is confident to such preposterous extremities that he believed his whole plan would go JUST like he anticipates, and that NOTHING about it would possibly fail. If anything else, THIS may be the best moment in the entire movie that illustrates his deep delusion and utter idiocy! But another excellent example is shown when Gaston makes his proposal to Belle, which is flatly rejected, leading to him facing a great deal of humiliation afterwards.

When Gaston makes his declaration to Belle that he wants her to be his wife, she takes advantage of the situation presented to her (including by noticing Gaston advancing towards her every time she tries to walk away from him) and successfully tricks him into getting out of her house. As she backs away from him one last time, she lures him towards the door, where he corners her, including by putting his hands on the door so she can’t get away. Then while Gaston closes his eyes and leans forward to try to kiss Belle, she opens the door, which catches him totally off guard and easily causes him to lose his footing, and balance, and fall into a mud pond in front of the house. When Gaston emerges from the pond and walks away, he is fuming because he was proven COMPLETELY wrong that he could change Belle and that she would want to marry him. In her having refused his proposal, and how she threw him out of her house, she had deceived, outsmarted, and humiliated him, making him look stupid and foolish in front of everyone present. Gaston is particularly seething over the humiliation because the villagers had witnessed all that went wrong for him, with him falling out the door into the mud and without Belle by his side, which told them that she had turned him down. This rejection also made Gaston look like a loser who doesn’t always get what he wants when he wants it, which completely goes against what he believes about himself and the image he projects. But regardless of her refusals, Gaston angrily tells LeFou he is still going to marry Belle, no matter what, before storming away.

Like I said above, Gaston’s unintelligence, and how much smarter Belle is than him, is shown as another extremely perfect example when he corners Belle and falls out the door. This is because as he follows Belle and pins her against the door, he is completely oblivious to the fact that she is subtly, yet slyly and cleverly, leading him into a trap to boot him out of her house. By the time Gaston does realize it, it is too late, as he falls out the door and into the mud in such a short, fast pace of time. In this act, Belle outsmarts and gets the best of Gaston, and I seriously doubt that no one, not even a woman, has ever gotten the best of him before she did. In doing so, she even proves to him that women like her should not underestimated, judged, dismissed, or viewed as inferior to men, which goes against what he believes when it comes to the two genders. It is unquestionably one of the best moments that shows how much Gaston underestimates Belle just because she is a woman. She has a very strong, independent mind of her own and is confident in who she is and the opinions she makes. No matter how far Gaston tries to go or how low he will stoop, he will never change Belle into the exact kind of woman he wants her to be as his wife.

Manipulative Man, Murderous Monster

That night, Gaston is at the tavern, sulking in his still-remaining fury about Belle rejecting him, so LeFou and the patrons sing about his “greatness” to cheer him up. When it ends, Maurice bursts in and tells everyone about Belle being imprisoned by the Beast. Thinking he is talking nonsense, they throw him out of the tavern and refuse to help him. Immediately following this moment, Gaston starts to reveal his cunning, calculating, manipulative side. After overhearing some men addressing Maurice as “Crazy old Maurice”, Gaston sings a reprise of his song, beginning when he and LeFou agree that thinking is “a dangerous pastime”. Yet despite this, Gaston voices that he is still very determined to marry Belle, and that Maurice’s claim about the Beast has inspired him to come up with a plan to get her to say yes. In his next scene, Gaston meets Monsieur D’Arque, the manager of the local insane asylum, and reveals that his plan is to blackmail Belle into marriage by threatening to have Maurice thrown into the asylum if she refuses. Though D’Arque notes that Maurice is not insane to a violent or aggressive degree, because he has been bribed by Gaston with gold firsthand (and because he likes the despicability of the plot), he agrees to do it.

During the climax of the film, Gaston sets his plan in motion by gathering the villagers outside Belle’s home, and LeFou tricks Maurice into talking about the Beast again so he can be deemed insane. When D’Arque’s men start to take Maurice away, Gaston appears to Belle and says if she agrees to marry him, he will clear up the “little misunderstanding”. Horrified and disgusted by this (and having quickly deduced that Gaston set all this up just to get her to agree to marry him), Belle angrily pushes Gaston away, rejecting him once again. Then she quickly proves her father’s sanity and foils Gaston’s scheme when she reveals the Beast’s existence using the magic mirror he (the Beast) had given her. Even though this revelation has ruined his whole scheme, this does not deter Gaston for long. He reveals his manipulative, cunning side once again when he successfully turns the tables by taking advantage of his own popularity and the villagers’ prejudice and xenophobia towards the Beast due to the latter’s monstrous appearance. In doing so, Gaston convinces the villagers that the Beast is a threat to them all and rallies many of them into a mob, then leads them to the castle to kill the Beast.

Now that I have discussed Gaston’s ability to be calculating, manipulative, and cunning with his scheme to blackmail Belle and how he quickly sways the villagers to help him kill the Beast even when his plan is foiled, I want to say that these acts still do not prove that Gaston is intelligent. Almost all of it boils down to the fact that his stupidity and lack of brains is based on his extreme delusion, overconfidence, egotism, and arrogance, especially when it comes to him thinking he can change Belle. Gaston’s plans are not thought out too carefully or thoroughly since he doesn’t consider all the potential repercussions; heck, if anything, he is shown to be quite reckless and careless regarding his planning. For example, when he came up with the idea to blackmail Belle into marrying him, it may have been a manipulative idea, but it certainly wasn’t a brilliant one. Why? Because Belle rejected, outsmarted, and got the best of him AGAIN when she proved to everyone that her father was telling the truth about the Beast! Once again, Gaston gravely underestimated Belle, and not just with her smarts. He underestimated just how much inner strength she has as an independent woman and how adamant she is in resisting his efforts. Belle is firm in her decision to not be with Gaston, so she will never submit to him or change her mind about marrying him, no matter how low he stoops to get her to say yes. (Besides, when Belle conned Gaston into leaving her house, that shows SHE knows when to be cunning and manipulative!) As another part of his stupidity, arrogance, and just how much he underestimates Belle, Gaston never even considered a backup plan should this one fail, and that’s all because he was too confident that it WOULDN’T fail! But his plan ultimately fails because he severely lacks the brains and intellect to produce a truly brilliant idea.

Upon finally finding the Beast in the castle, Gaston is utterly convinced that he is powerful enough to defeat the latter, who is a lot bigger and stronger, all by himself. He first shoots an arrow into the Beast, pushes him outside, kicks him down the castle several times, and finally tries taunting him into fighting. However, the Beast refuses to fight, having lost the will to live since Belle left, so Gaston breaks off a castle statue to use as a makeshift club to kill him. But before he delivers the first blow, Belle (and Maurice, having escaped their home after being locked up by Gaston) returns to the castle and calls up to Gaston. Hearing and seeing Belle helps the Beast regain his strength and determination to keep fighting for his life, so he quickly grabs the club, stands up (revealing his towering posture and own brute strength as he does so), and viciously growls like a dangerous animal as he retorts against Gaston. As the two fight, Gaston brags about his beliefs that he is Belle’s true love, and that she could never love a monster like the Beast. In fury, the Beast head-butts Gaston in the chest (disarming him), then holds him by the throat over the castle moat, preparing to drop him. When Gaston pathetically begs for his life, the Beast reluctantly lets him go and orders him to leave the castle. However, as Gaston recovers his strength, he witnesses the Beast climbing up a balcony to reunite with Belle, making him more jealous than ever. Gaston follows and stabs the Beast in the back with a knife while dangling unsteadily from the balcony. Before he can stab the Beast a second time, the Beast swings his arm backward at Gaston in pain, causing Gaston to let go of the balcony when he tries to dodge it, fall off the castle, and plunge into the deep moat below to his death.

Gaston’s cunning yet simultaneous lack of smarts is displayed for the final time in the movie during his battle with the Beast. When he first finds and tries to fight the Beast, his own arrogance and overconfidence as a skilled hunter with brutal physical strength makes him underestimate his rival, which he only realizes in horror once the Beast grabs the club and reveals his imposing height and monstrous, animal strength. While fighting, Gaston quickly realizes he cannot rely just on brute strength to kill the Beast, so at a point when the latter hides in the shadows among some gargoyle statues, the former starts taunting him again to lure him out and resume fighting. Though he successfully tricks him into coming out of hiding, Gaston continues to underestimate the Beast by insulting him and trying to fight him; he also shows how reckless and foolish he is by doing so. Gaston pushes the final button by saying that Belle belongs to him and could never love the Beast. This works, but almost immediately backfires, as the Beast overpowers Gaston in his fury and prepares to kill him. But instead of leaving when his life is spared, Gaston follows the Beast up to the castle balcony and stabs him in the back, determined to kill him once and for all. With his focus being on the Beast once he stabs him, then prepares to do it again, combined with being blinded by his pride, wrath, jealousy, and arrogance, Gaston does not even appear to realize the dangerous spot in which he has put himself. By the time he finally does after dropping his knife and letting go of the balcony while trying to dodge the Beast’s arm, it’s too late; Gaston’s arrogance and pride ultimately, and LITERALLY, proves to be his downfall when he falls off the castle and to his death in the chasm below.

Conclusion

And so there you have it on all scenes that proves Gaston’s lack of intelligence and how whatever brains he possesses do not compare to those of Belle! As I said before, some Disney villains are very intelligent, as well as cunning, calculating, and manipulative. But these three traits do not match up with intelligence for every villain, and it CERTAINLY doesn't for Gaston! Belle is always two steps ahead of him with intelligence since she refused to marry him, outsmarted him, and humiliated him in doing so, twice! Gaston may have believe that his outer beauty and brawn made him the best man around, the best of the best. But since Belle always comes out above him using her wits and smarts, it just goes to show that brains can matter a lot more than brawn. Belle is one of Disney’s smartest heroines, while Gaston is one of the least smartest Disney Villains! And in the end, it was his unintelligence that caused his downfall!

And now this brings me to the end of yet another analysis on Gaston’s villainy. Thank you all for reading, and until my next analysis! 😁😄😉

[strawberrylemonz]

Campfire Tales

Part 3 of my series!  Thank you for 100+ followers!!!

As usual, do ask me any questions you may have regarding this series! 

This is dedicated to both @petrichormeraki and @applepie1000

Enjoy!

Part 2

Part 3 [CURRENT]

Part 4

————————

“You’re gonna burn the ‘mallows”

“Am not”

“Are too”

“Am not”

“Are too”

“Calm down, you two”

Everyone was sitting around the campfire as Tommy brought out the sticks and marshmallows. He had already taken out the rest of the supplies to make snacks and drinks using the fire, doing his best to make sure that everyone was comfortable before he explained his time before joining the hermits.

“You doing alright?”

Tommy stiffened at the sound of being addressed so suddenly. Turning to his side, he saw his older brother smiling up at him. Tommy had been feeling very anxious since the group began their hike up to the campfire, so the sight was comforting for him. He returned the smile to his brother, who extended a hand out to him.

“Let me help you with those, Toms. Just sit down and relax for a bit. You’re probably very nervous.”

Now, Tommy would usually bite back with an overconfident comment, but Tommy didn’t feel like his usual self. Instead, he shrugged his shoulders and handed Grian the remaining supplies. Grian, in turn, grabbed the supplies before sitting his little brother down on a seat. Ruffling his hair with affection, Grian handed Tommy some marshmallows before setting off to finish handing everything out. 

“You get near that majestic cat, Iskall, and I will stab you”

“Okay, okay, I’m backing off.”

Peering up, Tommy saw Cleo scoop up a cat, before walking off to sit on a different log seat. Iskall, in turn, nervously laughed as if he just escaped death. ‘Wouldn’t be an understatement.’ Tommy thought with slight amusement. Iskall then turned to Tommy, smiling at the younger boy. Tommy, returned the smile, waving at the man. Iskall saw that as an invitation and proceeded to sit down next to Tommy on the log.

“Nervous?”

“Is it really that obvious?”

“Well, yeah. You started to tone down on the cussing when we arrived at Pirate’s Pier. You stopped cussing in general when we took Captain Puffy’s ship to the campsite, and you haven’t cussed since. You’re also fidgeting around a lot.”

“Shit”

Iskall let out a laugh as Tommy shoved his face into his hands. Patting the young adult’s back with care, he did his best to comfort Tommy.

“Hey, it’s alright. We’ll understand if you decide to stop telling us. But don’t push yourself to either share past your comfort or to coop up all your feelings. It’s not healthy for you, and we’ll all attack you with care and affection until you feel better.”

Tommy barked out a laugh as he playfully pushed away Iskall’s face.

“That’s all you lot have been doing since I arrived. Been acting like I’m your baby brother, or some shit.”

“Well, that’s the case. At least, for one of us.”

At that, the two peered over to Grian, who was putting up the left over supplies with haste, obviously eager to begin unraveling his brother’s pain.

“He seems more hyper than usual”

“I’m pretty sure it’s on the account that he found out that his favorite raccoon is, in fact, his younger brother.”

“I hope he isn’t disappointed-”

Tommy was interrupted when a hand covered his mouth. Feigning irritation, Tommy peered over at the owner of the hand, Iskall. Quirking an eyebrow at him, Tommy gave a pointed look. Iskall huffed before removing his hand from Tommy’s mouth.

“What the hell was that for, Isk-”

“Don’t say that.”

“Don’t say what? Your name?”

“No, Tommy, not that. Don’t say anything about Grian being disappointed in you being his brother. The two of you have been acting like brothers since the day you two met. You guys are two peas in a pod, burrowing in bases together and pranking any fool who let their guard down. He is more than happy to have you as his brother.”

“How can you be so sure when you say that?”

“Because, Tommy, I saw how he reacted. The two of you obviously couldn’t see that well, with the two of you weeping up an ocean-”

“-Did not-”

“-Did too. Anyways, I saw his reaction to putting the pieces together. It was a whole new Grian, one we never got to see before. His facade fell the moment he saw who you were. Something changed in his eyes, and he held you with more pride and love than he ever did before. He’s more than happy to have you as family.”

Tommy furrowed his eyebrows before looking Iskall in the face. He wanted to doubt his words, he really did. He wanted to believe that he didn’t deserve so much of Grian’s love, that he didn’t deserve a special place in his heart. One look at Iskall’s face, however, was more than enough confirmation that he wasn’t being lied to. As much as Tommy wanted to avoid his brother’s love, he knew he couldn’t. All Tommy could do was to just pray to Clara that this brotherly bond would not be torn apart and bombed, just like his last two. He just wanted a family member he could rely on, not one that would break him with betrayal and miscommunication.

“What are you two talking about?”

Tommy peered up to see Grian standing there, munching on a melted marshmallow. Rolling his eyes, Tommy snorted at him as Iskall laughed.

“Talking about how much of a big man Toms is.”

“Hey! Watch the sarcasm! I am a big man!”

Grian snorted before sitting down on the other of Tommy, getting comfortable on the log. The two brothers shared a smile before Tommy faced the rest of the group.

“Everyone ready?”

A chorus of confirmation was given, a single nod to return them. Sighing, Tommy situated himself and cleared his throat.

“I’m severely grateful for all of you, truly. You’ve all looked past the fact that I was a bastard and decided to keep me around. You guys helped me come to terms with things that I once thought was impossible to come to terms with. You’ve all even helped me heal from those stupid, shitty triggers. I really don’t know where I’d be if I hadn’t ended up here, especially looking back to where I was at my previous server.”

He saw everyone’s face gain some form of affection at his words. The pat on his back and the hand on his was all he needed to know that he woild go through with this. They’ve housed him and healed him for over 2 years, they deserved to know what they saved him from.

“Alright, it all started when I got an invite to Dream’s server, the Dream SMP.”

————

Grian didn’t know how to react, how to feel. How could he? It’s not everyday that you find out that the amazing big brothers you idolized weren’t so amazing after all. How could the people that vowed to look after their baby brothers turn around and break the youngest one? Tommy claimed that everything was a misunderstanding, and that he deserved his punishments, but no one deserved punishments that severe.

“-I tried telling them how that made me feel, but Technoblade and Wilbur said that it had to stay in the pit. Tubbo tried to tell me that it wasn’t a big deal, but he was terrified of fireworks for so long after that. Not just fireworks, loud noises in general.”

Grian could tell how uneasy everyone was feeling, but they all understood not to prevent the boy from sharing. He had a lot of built up trauma that he tried forcing away, and that wasn’t healthy for him. He had to get everything off his chest, for the betterment of his mentality and health in general. Grian tried not to grimace as Tommy moved onto the death of the president, how he died of a heart attack. Doing his best to make sure his brother was comfortable, he periodically offered the younger boy drink and snack breaks in order to collect his thoughts. Tommy was grateful for these. 

“-He was so mad that we reinstalled a person to be our leader, saying that we betrayed him, but that’s not the case! I promise you it wasn’t! I wouldn’t have intentionally betrayed someone that I saw as my brother, my idol, my...my friend.”

Grian put an arm around the slouching boy and after making a mental note to help him fix his posture offered him a hand. Tommy happily accepted the comfort, trying his best to compose himself.

“And then he...he...”

“What is it, Tommy? What did Techno do?”

“He asked me if I wanted to be a hero. I didn’t even get to properly answer him. I still remember his words, they are forever engraved in my brain. ‘You wanna be a hero, Tommy? Then die like one!’ Then he set fucking withers on my nation, my home. Pathetic, isn’t it? Haha, and that’s not the worst part! That wasn’t even the worst disaster to have happened on that stupid, cursed day. My nation was blown up, and when I had turned to see what happened, I saw Wilbur, standing there, laughing at the chaos. Next thing I knew, dad- er, Phil, he...he killed him. I lost Wilby. I couldn’t save him from his madness.”

His voice had gotten much quieter as he spoke about that painful day. If everyone wasn’t so quiet they would have missed it, the way Tommy’s voice broke and quivered. Trying not to break, he leaned into his older brother, not paying any attention to the height difference. Grian, in turn, was holding his little brother as if the world would crumble if he let go. His brother was dead, the other blinded by his personal morals. And his father, his hero, murdered his son in front of the others. Grian did his best to listen to what Tommy was saying, not wanting him to feel unsupported. He just sat there and listened.

“-He didn’t even say goodbye to me. He just stood there as Dream took me away. Ghostbur went along with me, which I was grateful for, but the company of a ghost can only go so far, especially when it’s of your late brother.”

No one could believe the burdens put upon the shoulders of these two boys. They shouldn’t have had to deal with any of this, yet they were forced to do so. They couldn’t get mad at Tubbo, he didn’t deserve to be despised after having to deal with such a stressful decision at such a young age. Iskall took over trying to comfort Tommy while Grian tried to drink as much water as he could, as if it would drown all the emotions he was feeling. He felt absolutely sick hearing what Dream put his baby brother through. He suddenly felt amazing at being a Dream slayer. He was sure Tommy would find comfort in that. Tommy eventually got to the end of his stay with Techno. 

“I was hoping that he would understand why I didn’t stay, why I had to leave. As much as I care for him, he was feeding in to my negative thoughts, and I had to prevent myself from becoming everything I didn’t want to be. He didn’t get it, though. I still saw him as a friend, a brother, but he only saw me as a selfish traitor. He only saw me as someone who wanted to use him as a weapon. Phil called me a traitor, too, and they took down my tower. It’s okay, everyone sees them as ugly pieces of shit. Tubbo and I began to slowly heal our friendship as we prepared for Doomsday, but that’s when things got weird. As Tubbo and I went on a walk to discuss our plan, some weird portal opened up in the ground. I felt weightless as I fell in, and then I ended up here. I’ve been here with you guys ever since.”

Before he could say anything else, Tommy was engulfed into an embrace. Grian buried his brother’s face into his chest, kissing his brother’s hair as he rocked him back and forth. Iskall joined in and rubbed the boy’s back, Mumbo approaching and supporting Grian and Tommy’s weight so they wouldn’t fall. Xisuma stood behind the two, hand on Tommy’s shoulder. One by one, Stress, Scar, Joe, Tango, False, everyone began to join in on the comfort circle to give support to the brothers.

--------

Grian and Tommy had not detached from each other since the campfire. No one pointed that out, not this time. They just gave the birdie personal space with his raccoon of a brother. Everyone gave the two smiles, wishing them goodnight as they all left to stay in the lodging of their choosing in the adventure park. Tommy and Grian waved at them before turning to leave to their choice in lodging. After a while, they arrived to their destination, the Antarctic Empire. After standing in the hall and debating which room to stay in, they eventually decided to stay the night in Grian’s room. Once the were changed for bed, the two just sat on the bed, unsure whether or not they should talk about something or force themselves to sleep. Finally, sucking in a breath of confidence, Tommy spoke up.

“So, since festival week is in a few months, wanna help me plan our outfits and hand out fliers?”

[isabellitah]

Title : Our Wife

Pairing : Sakusa Kiyoomi x Female!Reader x Miya Atsumu

Warning : blood ig, curse words, attempted rape, torture, and mentions of death

Credits : to the artists regarding the drawings of Sakusa Kiyoomi and Miya Atsumu found on the banner- i saved them from pinterest I think.

Note : do not copy or repost this anywhere else. I do not write Haikyuu!! fics anywhere else.

Y/n Miya-Sakusa was scared. No- scratch that- you were terrified.

You wouldn’t show it to your captors though- your husbands taught you to never show fear- but Jesus Christ- you were terrified not only for yourself but more so for your unborn child- a child you didn’t even know existed until half an hour before you got kidnapped from your own room. For the past hour that you’ve been tied to a chair in the middle of the room, they haven’t touched your body. The same couldn’t be said for your face. Half of your face was covered in slightly dried blood; blood that came a wound you got when they slammed your head against the edge of your beside drawer to knock you unconscious, and a spilt lip that was still bleeding slightly from when they punched you when you spat at the face of the person who demanded your husbands’ locations and the locations of all your warehouses. The thought alone made you scoff- you’re no rat. Unlike whoever the hell gave your home’s location away. Your husbands were going to be so pissed when they find you gone and your shared room thrashed about.

Sitting on the wooden chair was become a pain in the ass. Literally. You couldn’t even escape because of the metal cuffs attached to your wrists, forearms, and ankles and they took your daggers away. You’re stuck and all you can do it wait. Wait for either your husbands to burst through the door or wait for your promised torture session and possible death.

Minutes- hours- who knows how long later, two men in black barged into the room, startling you from your daydream carrying knives with guns in their holsters. Well... looks like your Omi and Tsumu are too late huh...

“Ready, Princess?” thing 1 with an eyepatch said with a smile, showing his yellow teeth, “Boss said we gots to kill ye before yer husbands get here. Ye know, so they barge in ‘ere only to see yer bleeding body. Even better if they get to see yer naked corpse, doncha think?”

“Boss said not to rape her tho-” thing 1 interrupted thing 2, “what boss doesn’t know won’t hurt ‘im. And besides- I wanna leave Miya a surprise for stabbing my eye.”

And just as thing 1 started moving towards you, a scream was heard from outside the door and echoed into the room, sending shivers down things 1 and 2’s spines. You, on the hand, smiled. They’re here... fucking finally.

“What was that?” Thing 2 looked around nervously. Huh- he must be new to the business. Poor guy he won’t make it far at this point. Thing 1 shrugged, “eh who cares? There’s no one we can’t kill.” he boasted. Dumb overconfident pig.

Another scream rang through followed by a shout of terror, “THEY’RE HERE!” that was cut off as a loud gunshot echoed through the walls followed by a series of bangs and clangs. The familiar sound brought you off guard- they brought everyone? You were sure that that clang was from Michinari’s favorite weapon- his metal bat. Where were you and who took you that they felt it necessary to have everyone here? You were brought out of your train of thoughts when you realized that all of a sudden everything and everyone was silent. All you can hear was your own heartbeat.

“Ah fuck it-” thing 1 looked at your form with a crazed look in his eyes that sent shivers down your spine.

“Dude what are you-”

“Well it’s obvious we won’t make it out alive-”

“Wait what?”

“-might as well have fun before we die, ey?”

With that said he closed the gap between you two. You felt your mind blank as tears started forming in your eyes. The moment he ripped Atsumu’s shirt from your person, the tears fell along with the loudest scream you could muster, “OMI! ATS-” you were cut off as thing 1 smacked your cheek with the butt of his gun, “shut up ye lil bitch. Yer not leavin til I get my f-”

Thing 2 was suddenly down- a hole on the side of his head. None of you even heard the door open so that meant Shinsuke was here- well him or Rintarou since they’re the stealthiest in your family.

Thing 1 suddenly stood up straight and placed his hands up with his palms up and blocking your view from whoever was with you two in the room, “hey uhhh I was forced to do this, mates- it- it wasn’t anything personal, yea?” Sat on a wooden chair in just your undergarments and the remnants of one of your husbands’ shirt, you let a small smile appear on your face. They’re here. You and your little bean are safe now.

Rintarou stepped out of the shadows and from his voice you could tell he looked bored, “so... where is she?”

Thing 1 shook his head, having lost his voice the moment his eyes met the bored yet malicious ones of one Suna Rintarou- one of the deadliest assassins of the Inarizaki family, and prayed that the fox wouldn’t notice your bleeding form behind him.

The moment you let out a sob, he pushed thing 1 away and squatted in front of you. And he was not happy with what he saw was done to you-

He saw your bloody and bruised face. He saw your shaking hands and the tears you let flow from your eyes. But what angered him the most was the fact that someone he viewed as his little sister lost the brightness is her eyes.

Any chance the idiot had with reasoning with him was gone.

“Congratulations, idiot. You’ve secured a spot in our personal dungeon.” Rintarou smiled as he heard a sharp thump before the telltale sound of a body hitting the ground, “you didn’t hit him too hard, did you, Shinsuke-san?”

“Not hard enough.”

“Ok- let’s get these off of you before your hubbies come in here,” with that said both men started unlocking the cuffs trapping you onto the chair. After freeing you, you were immediately hit with the feeling of fatigue and let your body fall onto the person closest to you. Shinsuke caught your semi-limp body and immediately became worried but calmed down as he felt your breaths. He arranged your position so that you were laying across his lap, facing the roof of the cell. Rintarou settled himself beside Shinsuke after texting Kiyoomi your location- receiving an immediate reply that they’ll be there as soon as Atsumu is out of his blood haze. Shinsuke brushed his hand through your hair but immediately stopped when you whimpered, “hit- t-table- home.”

The two men exchanged worried glances when you stared up at them with your eyelids slowly closing. Rintarou tapped your cheek, “Y/n-chan, stay awake- how do you feel right now?”

“Aish of all the questions Rin-”

“B-baby...”

“Kiyoomi-san and Tsumu will be he-”

“M-my baby...” their eyes widened as you shakily placed your hand onto your tummy before falling limp in Shinsuke’s arms. He refrained from panicking when he saw your chest still rising and falling in patterns- you probably fainted from exhaustion.

“Holy shi-”

“Y/N!”

The moment the two saw your limp body they assumed the worst- but as Atsumu was about to yell out his rage and sorrow, Osamu appeared from the shadows and hit the back of his head, “she’s breathing, you moron.”

“I knew that, shitface.”

“Who ya callin’ shitface, ya pig?”

“Who ya callin’ a pi-”

“Aran,” Kiyoomi calmly spoke as he turned to face the hitman- ignoring his husband and brother-in-law, “lead the way out- make sure that there will be no delays. We must take Y/n to Motoya immediately- we don’t know the extent of her wounds- however they look... less than favorable as of the moment.”

At the reminder of your current condition, the twins shutted up, “Osamu,”

“Yeah, Omi-san?”

“Bring that thing with us.” was muttered with great disdain while his finger was pointed towards the unconscious thing 1.

And so they left the building covered in blood with neutral faces.

They may not show it but they were livid.

They didn’t miss your tear and blood stained face nor the the fact that your shirt was ripped right down the middle.

They knew what was going to happen to you had they been a second late.

“Hitoshi and Heisuke are already tracking the rats- we’ll have them in the basement by tonight,” informed Kiyoomi’s trustworthy gunsmith, Tsukasa Iizuna.

“They better- only question now is who gets first dibs on the assholes.”

As they settled into the car, Shinsuke told them the news of your latest surprise. He knew that they’d go even more ballistic were they to find out during the check-up from Motoya. But since they were in a closed and moving car with you on their laps, they couldn’t really do much except stiffen and let their rage grow stronger- and he looks forward to seeing what they’ll do to the bastards tonight. Shinsuke, above all things, is a man of honor- and what he hates above all things, are traitors.

“PLEASE! I’M SORRY! PLEA- AHHH” Thing 1 screamed as Kiyoomi dug his dagger deeper into the man’s shoulder- forming a hollow hole of sort.

“Just a little more... I want to see if your bones are clean or if they need to cleansed as well-”

“Omi-omi~ I want my turn !” whined Atsumu as he crossed his arms and pouted at his husband.

Kiyoomi rolled his eyes, “you had your turn five minutes ago when you spilled acid onto his legs- it’s my turn now.” with that said, Kiyoomi ripped his dagger from the man’s flesh without a warning and grabbing a bowl from the prisoner’s ‘meal’, poured the bowl of scalding hot soup into the hollow flesh.

And as the man wailed, the two traitors squirmed in fear as they awaited their turns.

“We don’t usually go to this extent but what can we say...”

“No one messes with our wife.”

please reblog if you liked it hehe 🥺🥰

[silhouetteofacedar]

Fox Mulder, Closet Romantic Ch. 2: Casual Friday the 13th

Previous Chapter - AO3 Link - MSR, rated E

He gives himself a pep talk on the way to work the next morning. It feels ridiculous.

Just ask her out, he thinks. Be casual. Invite her to grab a drink, act like you’re going whether she joins you or not. It’s just Scully.

That’s some bullshit; she’s not just anything to him. She’s everything.

Also he doesn’t go to bars much, and never alone, so he’s not sure how subtle this will be.

He pushes the thoughts out of his head until they’re leaving the office at the end of the day, gathering their things and donning winter layers.

“Buy you a drink, Agent Scully?” he tosses out casually, taking her coat from the rack.

“Hm, what’s the occasion?” she asks.

“Friday the thirteenth; I’m testing my luck,” he replies, holding her coat open for her.

She slips her arms into the sleeves. “I guess one wouldn’t hurt,” she decides.

Huh. That was surprisingly easy.

He chalks it up to beginner’s luck and ushers her out the door with a hand on her back.

They end up at Casey’s Bar because it’s close to the Hoover Building, and neither of them had wanted to walk too far through the cold February night. Mulder’s a little nervous, but not enough to let it show. At the risk of being overconfident, he thinks it’s actually going pretty well. This outing is markedly different from every first date he’s had in the past. There’s no need for small talk with Scully, no pressure to act more gregarious or charming than he naturally is. Scully herself is a refreshing presence, like a crisp spring breeze. Cool without being austere, gentle and yet invigorating.

Also she doesn’t know it’s a date, so there’s that.

They perch at the far end of the counter and shoot the shit, talk about work. She orders a draught beer, and seeing the large glass in her little hand makes his stomach flutter nonsensically. He orders one too, just to keep pace with her, though he suspects she could drink him under the table if the occasion ever arose. The thought is strangely erotic.

Mulder watches her full pink lips press against the edge of her glass and he clears his throat awkwardly. Down, boy. He scrambles for a diversion.

“Any special plans for tomorrow night?” he asks, taking a foamy swallow of beer.

“What’s- oh.” Scully sets down her glass. “No, not this year,” she says softly.

He suddenly feels like a prick.

“You?” she asks, because she’s a polite human being.

Diffuse the moment, buddy. “I’ve got a pretty hot date, actually.”

Her shoulders stiffen momentarily. Interesting. “Oh?” she says lightly.

“Yeah, the boys invited me over to pick apart some found footage they stumbled upon. Frohike’s making chili.”

Scully’s face breaks into a smile, and he feels a wash of relief. She shakes her head. “You know, for about two seconds I thought you might actually have a life. It was a surreal experience.”

“I have a life, Scully,” he insists. It’s you. Aliens, conspiracy, and you.

“Mhm,” she hums, licking a bit of stray foam off her upper lip, causing a twinge south of his belt buckle. “Mulder, can I ask you a highly personal question?”

He coughs awkwardly. “No guarantees that I’ll answer, but sure. Hit me.”

She suddenly seems nervous. “Well… we’ve known each other for five years now, and we spend a lot of time together. I’ve met your mother, your friends. And in all that time, I’ve not known you to go on a single date.”

Besides this one, he thinks. “And?” he prompts.

She absently wipes her finger through the condensation on her glass. “Well, I can’t figure out why not. Your - preferences - are quite evident, and I’m sure finding a willing partner would be fairly easy for you, at least for… casual encounters.”

I don’t want casual encounters, he thinks. I want to burn pancakes for you on Sunday mornings.

He huffs out a breath of laughter. “I have it on good authority that I’m not the best company, Scully. What makes you think it’d be easy?”

She takes a long pull of her beer. “Because you’re very attractive.”

His heart stops momentarily, then starts back up at twice the speed. He scrambles for some composure. “Oh, so you think I’m attractive,” he teases lightly. He hopes she doesn’t notice the sudden tremble in his fingers.

Scully nods, as though she hadn’t just dropped a bomb on him. “Yes, I do. A lot of people do, Mulder,” she adds quickly. The lighting in the bar is dim, so he assumes he’s imagining the flush on her cheeks. Or it’s the beer. “The women’s restroom at the Bureau is a cesspool of gossip.”

“Well I’m not the only hot piece of ass in the X-Files division,” he says, glancing at her over the rim of his glass.

“Don’t let Skinner hear you say that,” she quips. “He’s shy.”

Mulder grins, amused by her deflection. “People talk about you too, Scully. I’ve had to fend off suitors for you more than once.” Now it’s her turn to squirm, he thinks.

She blinks rapidly. “You’re joking.”

Mulder chuckles. “Swear. Every once in a while a guy will ask me something about you. I tell ‘em to ask you themselves, and I assume they usually chicken out.”

“What kind of things do they want to know?”

Mulder shakes his head. “Let’s just say they’re not asking me your favorite color,” he says simply, lifting his glass to his mouth once more. “You can imagine the rest.”

Scully presses her lips together. “I don’t have to, unfortunately,” she sighs. “Thanks for having my back,” she adds.

He shrugs. “I’m your partner,” he says. “I’ll always have your back.”

He suddenly remembers a conversation he had a little over a year ago, a month or so before Scully’s birthday. It seems like a fitting time to tell her.

“There’s only been one guy that I thought was alright,” he says. “I, uh, never told you this, Scully, because it was confidential, but seeing as the subject in question is now deceased…”

Scully turns to him on her stool. “Mulder, what?”

“Pendrell. He liked you.”

She knits her brows together in that adorable way she has. “I liked him too.”

“I mean, he really liked you,” Mulder emphasizes. “He asked me once if you were seeing anyone.”

“Oh,” she says. "What did you tell him?”

“I told him ‘Agent Scully’s personal life is her business, and any questions regarding it should be posed to her directly’.”

“Very formal,” she muses. “I should print that on my business cards for you to hand out.”

“The thought’s crossed my mind. Are you currently accepting applications for the position of ‘boyfriend’?” Mulder asks. “I’d be happy to field candidates.”

“Oh, I bet you’d love that,” Scully says with an eye roll. “Admit it, you like interrogating suspects. Especially when you think they’re mutants of some kind.”

“I promise that any potential boyfriends will be firmly terrestrial and completely unremarkable.”

The sentence hangs in the air for a long moment. “I don’t know that I want that after all,” Scully finally says quietly. “The husband with a nine-to-five, the picket fence, the priest over for lunch after Sunday mass. I’ve seen too much, done too much, to really fit into that picture anymore.”

Mulder feels a pang in his chest, the old familiar guilt creeping in. “This is a lonely path,” he admits. “Working nonstop to find evidence, only to have it be discounted offhand.”

“No closure, no arrests, no satisfying conclusions to leave you feeling a little bit safer knowing you did your job,” Scully adds.

Mulder rubs his hand over his mouth, nodding. “Just weird substances that nobody can explain and accounts of phenomena that nobody believes. Spooky shit.”

Scully raises her drink with a sudden levity. “To spooky shit,” she toasts.

Their glasses clink, and the contact chimes in Mulder’s ears. A kiss of half-empty pints.

Mulder bites his lip absently, gathering his next words. “So… what do you want?” he asks carefully, leaning in a fraction.

Scully shakes her head, sighing softly. “That’s the big question, isn’t it? I can’t even think about long term at this point. My life is so different from what I’d planned, and I’m still adapting.”

“Alright, forget long term for the moment,” Mulder prompts. “What’s something that you want that you can acquire within, say, the next month or so?”

“You granting wishes now, Mulder?” she asks coyly, taking a sip of beer.

“Depends on what you ask for,” he replies, voice low.

It feels as though they’re circling the truth, caught in each other’s orbit, traveling an ellipse of the unspoken. He wonders if she feels it too. The beer has him weightless, spinning out into the unexplored reaches of space between them. He wants to grab her hand on the worn bar counter, anchor himself to her sun-warmed earth.

“As strange as it sounds,” she says after a moment, “I’m… oddly contented. If I spent more time on it I’m sure I could give you a whole list of things I feel I’m lacking, but at this moment none of them really matter.”

His heart accelerates. “Must be some beer,” he jokes.

She smiles at him, a soft closed-lip turn of her mouth that warms him better than any liquor. “Company’s not half bad either. Despite whatever good authority has told you otherwise.”

He drops a hand onto hers then, gives it a brief squeeze before returning it to his glass and finishing his beer.

They walk back to the FBI parking garage, arms bumping each other as they brace themselves against the winter chill. Mulder escorts Scully to her car because he’s a gentleman and squeezing out every last second he can with her.

Scully ducks her head, seeming almost shy. “Thanks for inviting me. I haven’t been out in a while,” she says simply. “This was nice.”

Mulder shrugs, suddenly unsure how to orient his limbs. He wants to hug her, but he knows this isn’t the right time. “Don’t mention it,” he replies, shoving his hands into his coat pockets.

“Enjoy your ménage à quatre with the Gunmen,” she says with a cheeky grin.

“I’ll save some kisses from Frohike for you,” he replies with a wink.

They face each other, suddenly quiet. It feels as though they waded too far into the ocean and drifted down shore, losing sight of their picnic spot. They float in the silence, buoyed by their exchange, but uncertain as to where they stand.

“Goodnight,” Mulder says finally, because he can’t think of what else to say beyond that and ‘I love you’. Or ‘come home with me’.

“‘Night,” she replies, unlocking her car door and slipping inside.

He wanders aimlessly over to his car and bundles into the driver’s seat, heaving a deep, half-contented sigh. He considers the evening a tentative success, despite a somewhat unsatisfactory conclusion.

He jerks off when he gets home, holding Scully’s sweet face in his mind’s eye as he comes shamefully into his own lonely hand.

[vitaegratis]

creelsclocks​:

❝ Arrogance is not in my nature, ❞ Henry replies with a patient smile. As far as he’s concerned, to be overconfident is to sign himself up for loss. The moment he allows himself to ‘get cocky’ is the moment he stops pushing himself to be better. He may be good as he is now, great even, but he’s certainly not infallible; he can always get stronger. That’s what he’s been doing ever since he broke out of Hawkins Lab, after all. Improving. Growing. Adapting. Much to his benefactor’s chagrin. ❝ I promise that I’ll continue to be careful. That I’ll always think. That’s what I’m good at. ❞

The fact that he’s aeons stronger than Eleven could ever hope to be is both unspoken and, currently, unknown.

Slowly, the smile on his face dims, the worry shining through as he casts a lingering look at his dearest friend.

❝ What’s going on with you, Ed? ❞ The way he’s talking, as if he’s going to wake up tomorrow and Eddie is going to be gone, it’s unsettling in ways that he doesn’t know how to articulate. The idea of living in a world without the very person that introduced him to it… it’s unfathomable. As unfathomable as a future without Nancy. Does he realise that— that he’s just as important to him as she is? ❝ I hope you’re not planning to do something foolish. You know I’ll drop everything to find you if you try to disappear — and when I find you, I’ll punch you. Hard. ❞

And he says it lightly, as if he’s making a joke, but the pensive intonation speaks for itself. He’s worried, and he wants Eddie to keep feeling as if he can talk to him like this. Too often, Henry feels his friend is guarding parts of his heart from him, desperate to not cause worry, and while he understands the notion all too well, he doesn’t like being on the outside. Not with him. If there’s anybody that he can tell anything to, even over his girlfriend, it’s Eddie. He wants him to feel likewise.

❝ I’m not going anywhere, you know? You’re still my number one. You always will be. ❞ He’s never understood the hyperfixation that society has on romantic relationships, but Henry doesn’t share it; doesn’t place romantic love above platonic affairs, and doesn’t think of romantic love as ‘greater’ than any other form of affection. Eddie’s brotherhood is not only important, it’s key to his existence, and he hopes every day that Eddie knows that as well as he does. ❝ You’re my best friend in this entire world. The person that I trust most on this planet. So don’t talk like you’re going to vanish, alright? I need you to be okay too. As does Wayne. ❞

Henry isn’t being being sassy, or condescending - and that in and of itself is mildly annoying. The affirmations of things that Eddie rationally knows? Comforting, yes, but the calm is annoying all the same. Yet he wouldn’t change it. Wouldn’t change him. No, Henry isn’t arrogant. He’s not reckless either, but he doesn’t know when to quit - doesn’t see it as a feasible option. He’s more measured than Eddie is himself. Less impulsive, more patient.

Eddie’s the one who always overplays his odds, and then gives up when it gets too hard. Too scary. Henry… doesn’t take chances. He keeps pushing himself, stretching himself. Not just his limits, but just with… the shop, his relationship, being a mentor to El…

It’s all so much. It’s better than being trapped in a lab, or a trailer - he’s actually living life… but his is… overwhelming, isn’t it? How could it not be? How the hell did do it? How did he stay sane? Well. He’d probably say having Eddie helped, to which Eddie himself would roll his eyes. Much as he does at the ‘number one’ sentiment - though does appreciate it. Personally, he thinks it should be Nancy - but he won’t comment on that right now. He doesn’t disagree in regards to the different, equally important types of love… but still. It’s not a contest, but at the same time… it should be no contest.

“I know you don’t plan on going anywhere. Neither do I. I need you and Wayne to be ok, I need you… but things don’t don’t always go the way we plan. We don’t always get what we need, or what we deserve. It’s going to get worse before it gets better. I hear you when you say you trust me, and I don’t doubt it. So trust… look, I know you never really took D&D…” He inspects the figurine in his hand, avoiding eye contact. Like a coward. “…but… it’s very rare that everyone makes it through the campaign.”

[ddaeng-danvers]

under and over

pairing: anakin skywalker x reader

genre: fluff

summary: in which anakin learns how to braid hair

warnings: mention of death, minor injuries, the reader is described as having long hair

word count: 2753

a/n: well...i’m having an anakin phase, what can i say. this is unedited and i wrote it in one sitting so i apologize for any mistakes, also!! i’m aware some things may be inconsistent with ~canon~ but i’m having a good time so leave me alone,,, there are also mentions of platonic anakin x padme as an fyi... finally!! this isn’t a part two of my last fic (dreams) but in my brain they are like the same universe,,, so yeah,,, enjoy!!

masterlist

*this gif has nothing to do with the fic but he looks GREAT so i’m using it anyway*

You left for the Jedi Order when you were quite young. You left only your mother behind, as your father died in a shipping accident on Corellia. You held on to as many memories of your mother as possible, as she was the only family you had left. One of your fondest memories of your mother was the way she did your hair. Every morning, from the moment you had a sprout of hair on your head, she attempted to braid and style it intricately. The styles were always beautiful, inspired by the different cultures of the galaxy your mother had seen in her travels with your father before he passed.

Now, over fifteen years later, you long for the feeling of your mother’s fingers weaving through your hair. Because you left for the order at such a young age, your mother was never able to teach you her braiding and styling methods. This has left you with two simple skills, tying your hair into ponytails, and braiding it into two strands on either side of your head. You longed for the ability to weave it atop your head, but now, with the war, there was little time for hair styling.

Almost immediately after passing your trials, you were thrown into the Clone War. You worked alongside Anakin Skywalker and the 501st battalion most often, but frequently bounced around to others, such as Obi-Wan’s 212th, and your former master Shaak Ti’s position on Kamino. You were never officially assigned a battalion of your own due to your opposition of the war, but remained a Jedi General for the benefit of the Republic.

After a particularly rough mission, your find yourself sneaking from the medbay (you suffered only minor scrapes and bruises) and retreated to your quarters. It is there that you find Anakin standing on the balcony.

“What’re you doing out here, Ani?” He smiles and looks back at you.

“I should be asking you that. You should be in the medbay.” You look at the ground, feeling the slightest bit guilty. You know how much Anakin cares for you. If you stayed you may have lessened his worrying slightly.

“I’m alright. It’s nothing too serious.” A moment of silence passes. “What about you? You and Snips didn’t come out unscathed either.” Anakin’s face shrinks in the slightest, the thought of his padawan’s injuries a difficult one to process.

“We’re both okay. She was checked over. Hit her head pretty hard, but she’ll be okay. She does have to stay on bedrest for a bit, which I’m sure she’s thrilled about.” You both laugh at the thought.

“She reminds me of you, y’know.” Anakin’s expression becomes puzzled.

“Really?” He asks. You nod, looking out into the Coruscant skyline.

“She’s headstrong, confident. Sometimes a bit overconfident.” Anakin lets out a chuckle. “But she’s got a good heart. And she cares about those around her, deeply.” Anakin smiles at you again.

“Well I certainly do care for you, my love.” He leans down and presses the softest kiss to your lips, and then to both cheeks, which begin to redden. He still makes you feel like a bubbling padawan.

“We should probably head to bed soon, debriefs and all in the morning.” Anakin curtly nods, continuing to gaze at the setting sun. “We can check on Ahsoka too, before we head to bed., if you want.”

Although attachments are technically forbidden by the Jedi Council, there was a strange exception granted to you and Anakin. The council knew of your relationship, and even approved it. Master Yoda claimed you had prevented Anakin from falling down a darker path. He insisted that the force willed you together. Luckily, it seems the exception of your attachment has led to some more leniency in the Council regarding the subject.

After a quick trip to the refresher and a check-up with Ahsoka, you and Anakin retire back to your quarters. (Technically Anakin has his own quarters that he is supposed to stay in, although everyone knows this is a rare occurrence). He always seemed to like your room more. He claimed it had more personality than his. Likely because he didn’t have much to bring with him from Tatooine, and materialism was generally discouraged among Jedi.

Being held by Anakin at night felt like a gift from the Maker himself. His arms warm, his chest firm, and his hands combing through the tresses of your hair.

Anakin awoke the next morning to a cold bed. He heard you clamoring around the refresher. Curious, he threw on his robe and knocked on the door.

“You alright in there, love?” He stands up against the door, waiting for a response. You open the door a moment later, a grumbly look on your face. It seems you’ve already gotten dressed. You had on a brown and black tunic and pants. Your armor for battle left at the foot of your bed, since today was to be a day filled with debriefing, strategizing, and paperwork.

“I’m fine, I just woke up early and then couldn’t fall asleep, so I decided to get up, be productive, but I just can’t do my hair right.” Anakin noticed the rough braids on your scalp, likely from failed attempts at braiding it moments ago.

“I wish I could help you, but hair isn’t my area of expertise.” Anakin looks at you through the mirror as he wraps his arms around your torso. He places a kiss to your shoulder.

“It’s fine.” You affirm. “I’m just frustrated.”

The debrief with the Council went without a hitch. Just a standard report on your success, information regarding casualties, and your new assignments. Fortunately, the Council gave the two of you a few days off before your next assignments. You planned to spend every waking moment possible with Anakin, as you were being sent to aid Obi-Wan and the 212th. You returned to your quarters shortly after the meeting to strategize a plan for your upcoming assault with Anakin on your heels. He helped you as much as he could, before becoming distracted. (He was never the best strategizer. He joked you were the brains of this relationship). He tinkered with his arm as you worked alongside him.

A knock on the door pulled you from your work. You opened it slowly, curious as to who it could be. Opening it all the way, you were met with the colors and patterns of a traditional Nabooian gown.

“Padme!” You exclaimed. It had been so long since you’d seen her. You grew quite close when you and Anakin were assigned to protect her all those years ago. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here on Senate business, and I couldn’t be here without stopping by to say hello to you two.” Anakin has since gotten up from his seat and come over to great Padme as well. “I was going to stop and see Ahsoka, but I assumed she’d be training. I didn’t want to interrupt.”

“Ahsoka was actually injured on our last mission. Nothing serious, just a mild concussion, she’s resting in her quarters as far as I know.” Anakin assures.

“We could stop by and see her, I’m sure she’d be excited to know you’re here.” Padme smiles at the implied compliment. You grab your robes from your bed, and usher everyone through the hallway to Ahsoka’s quarters. You knock as lightly as possible on the door.

“Ahsoka, you in there? You have a visitor.” Ahsoka fumbles behind the door, before opening it.

“Senator Amidala!” Ahsoka exclaims. The two of them envelop in a brief hug before separating. “It’s great to see you!”

“And you as well Ahsoka. You’ve gotten so tall!” Ahsoka viewed Padme as an older sister figure. She’d lost the rest of her family so young, she had little memory of them. The memories she does have however, she cherishes. You and her both.

After an hour or so of catching up, you notice Ahsoka’s eye’s begin to droop. You look up at Anakin who seems to have noticed the same thing. Through the briefest of eye contact, you understand Anakin’s request. He wants you to stay with her, make sure she’s actually resting. You nod, as Anakin whispers this information to Padme. “It’s been great catching up with you Ahsoka, but I’m afraid I have to tend to that Senate business now. Rest well.” Ahsoka nods politely, her drowsy expression only worsening.

“Thank you Senator Amidala. See you later. You too, Master Skywalker.” You stay in your standing position before guiding Ahsoka down to her bed. She practically rolls over the moment she sits down.”

“Tired?” You chuckle. Ahsoka smiles slightly.

“Yeah, this concussion took me out more than I care to admit.” You laugh again. “You are just like Anakin when he was a padawan. It scares me sometimes how similar you to are.” Ahsoka nods again.

“I guess that means we’re a perfect match.”

“I guess so.” Ahsoka seems to drift off quickly, and you begin to tidy anything out of place around her room. There isn’t much out of place, so you make your way to the door. But just before you open it, Ahsoka calls out your name.

“Master Y/L/N?” You walk over to the edge of her bed again.

“Yes Ahsoka? Is there something wrong?” Her expression is confused and guilt-ridden.

“Can you stay here with me? I haven’t gotten very good sleep lately, I’ve been having nightmares.” You looks down at Ahsoka again. She seems to be like Anakin in her sleep habits as well.

“Of course, Ahsoka. If anything you are sparing me from planning Obi-Wan’s attack later this week.”

“I’m sure Master Kenobi can figure that out himself.” Ahsoka smiles.

“Yes, I’m sure he can.”

Anakin smiles as her feels your Force presence relax, assuming because you’ve fallen asleep. Padme smiles up at him.

“You’ve got that dumbstruck look on your face, again.”

“What do you mean again?” Anakin questions.

“You were looking at her like that the whole time we were in Ahsoka’s room.” Padme laughs. “It’s okay, it’s cute. I remember you two on Naboo. Absolutely dancing around your feelings until I put a stop to it.” Anakin remembers his mission with you to Naboo fondly. You assumed Anakin loved Padme, when he never held romantic feelings for her. Only familial admiration. You and Padme spoke over dinner one night after Anakin went to bed early. She essentially pried your confession out of you, but you assured her that Anakin loved her. How very wrong you were. Padme made it her mission to set you two up while you were still on Naboo. Clearly, she was successful.

“I have a strange request.” Anakin spoke up. Padme nodded at him to continue speaking. “Can you teach me how to braid hair?” Padme stops in her tracks, Anakin continuing to walk a few steps forward before turning around. “What?”

“Nothing, just, that is in fact a strange request. Why do you want to learn?” Anakin describes the scene of you this morning, frustrated in the mirror.

“Her mother used to style it, but she left for the Order so young that she was never able to learn how her mother did it.” Padme nods along.

“I can teach you. We’ll start with some simple ones, I’ll leave you datapads to look over in the future. Does that suffice?” Anakin nods, gratefully.

“Yes, thank you Padme. When should I meet you again for my...lesson?”

“We can go back to my room right now, if that works for you?”

“Of course, but I thought you had Senate duties to attend to?” Padme chuckles.

“If this is for Y/N’s benefit, this far outweighs my senatorial duties.” Padme and Anakin laugh and continue their walk down the hall.

Anakin spent the next few hours listening to Padme’s instructions as she demonstrated a few hairstyles on her handmaidens. They allowed Anakin to practice on their hair as well. Anakin was always a fast learner, and picked up these skills quickly.

Time flew by, and Anakin suddenly felt your Force precense awaken. He ties the braid he was working on in Sabe’s hair, and received an impressed nod from Padme.

“Not half bad, Anakin. You’ve picked this all up quite fast.” Anakin gives a nod with a hint of smirk on his face. He’s impressed with himself too. He thanks everyone in the room, especially the handmaidens who have had him tugging at their hair for the past few hours, and departs for your quarters, excited to show off his new skills.

When he arrives, you’ve already made it back from Ahsoka’s room and changed into a lighter pair of pants and a looser tunic. You have battle plans strewn across the table, with your head resting in your hands.

“Thank you for staying with Ahsoka, I had a feeling she wasn’t getting the best rest.” You nod in agreement.

“She’s been having nightmares. Nothing serious, I think she’s still reflecting on the mission. I think she’s being reminded of her squadron on Ryloth. She’s afraid of it happening again.” Anakin’s expression sinks. You know him well enough to understand his thought process. He wishes to protect Ahsoka from as much pain as possible. Although he knows this isn’t possible, he beats himself up when she feels this pain. “I can practically read your thoughts, love. It’s not your fault.”

“I know, I just wished she believed in herself a little more. She’s capable, but afraid of further consequences.” You both nod and let a comfortable silence overtake the room.

Hours fly by yet again, and the sun has set behind the Coruscant skyline, signaling the end of another day. You both wordlessly get ready for bed.

As you finish drying your hair, Anakin can seethe wheels turning in your head. He knows exactly what you are about to attempt, and he has a surprise in store. He grabs your brush of the stand along your bed, and elastics gifted to him by Padme. “Love, come here.” He motions for you to sit in front of him, your bottom practically in his lap. Anakin has brushed your hair before, you used to rebraid each other’s braids during your time as padawans as well, so you weren’t suspicious when Anakin began to brush through you hair.

What did surprise you is when he began to section it off. He weaved it gently between his fingers, skillfully. He managed to avoid every knot and unnecessary tug. You felt him pin the braids intricately forming a ring over the top of your head. The rest were tucked into a bun, with braids that formed a section of their own. He placed his hands on your shoulder to signal his completion, and you looked at him eagerly.

“Can I look at it?” You asked, brimming with glee.

“Of course, love.” You rush to the mirror in the refresher. As soon as you are met with your reflection, you are rendered speechless. Anakin has since gotten out of bed and come to stand behind you in the refresher. “You like it?” Anakin asks. You nod your head. You turn your neck to see the back, and it’s beautiful, The braids flow within your natural hair perfectly. It feels both similar and different from your mother’s style. Not quite Correlian, but…

“Padme taught you how to do this.” You stated.

“How did you know?” Anakin asked, surprised you deciphered it that quickly.

“I’ve seen her wear something similar before. It also feels very Nabooian.” Anakin gleams down at you, thrilled to see your smile. You reach up and grip his cheeks pulling him into a kiss. You separate a moment later. “Can you teach me how to do this?”

Anakin laughs. “Of course my love.” The two of you retire to bed shortly after. Anakin admires his handiwork as you lay your head against his shoulder.

“Thank you, Ani. I really do appreciate it.”

“It’s no problem, love. It made me upset that you never got to learn from your mother, I know how much it meant to you, so we can learn together.” The thought of Anakin with his hands in your hair glaring at a datapad about hair styles made you giggle. “Maybe you can pass these hairstyles on to our children one day.” The thought of Anakin with a child, your child in his lap, makes you smile as you slip into sleep.

[la-fille-en-aiguilles]

Blacker Than The Foulest Witch - II

Marauders x Reader - Young!Sirius x Reader eventually

A/N - This is the second part of the story - here’s Part I if you want to catch up.  Set during the 1st Wizarding War.  Quick warning! - This part contains some violent imagery (blood, etc.). Please be aware!  Taglist: @someinsanefangirl (I’m sorry if i forgot to tag someone? Let me know if you wish to be tagged in the future!)

Thank you so much for reading!

The sun was touching the black horizon with a faint red tip by the time the unlikely trio arrived to the Borough of Islington; tension hung heavy in the air, despite Potter’s attempts to diffuse it with bits of awkward small talk. Sirius did not speak, just watched the girl - Y/N - from the corner of his eye every time she made a quiet sound of approval, indicating that she’d actually been listening.

There was something entirely too perplexing about her. She moved with ease and almost swan-like elegance, seemed genuinely interested in whatever vague information Potter threw at her regarding their endeavours during this seemingly never-ending war… All in all, she didn’t seem stressed or hostile towards them.

However, when Sirius reached out his hand to her outside the mansion so that he could apparate her to his family home, she gave him a long and a very chilly look before telling him flat out that she’d rather not touch him.

He must have been quite a sight to contemplate once her answer reached his ears, for Potter gave him yet another warning look. Feeling like an utter moron, Sirius dropped his good hand to a side, his mouth a thin line.

“I will shadow you”, she simply said, like it was supposed to make all the sense in the world. Sirius caught himself frowning while Potter just shrugged. She did look like she knew exactly what she was doing, so none of them asked any more questions as they disappeared into the night. As expected, the girl was there, hot in their steps, as they arrived.

Sirius made sure no one followed them before he led James and Y/N to the square in front of 12 Grimmaud Place. The snarl on his face became even more apparent as they reached the porch. God, he still hated this place with passion - even now, despite it becoming the Order’s primary place of residence. Nothing could ever erase the memories beaten into those walls - or the hate they emanated.

As Sirius whispered the uncloaking spell under his breath and the house started to stretch, he could feel the girl’s intense stare on a side of his face. It had an almost tangible quality to it.

Oddly enough, when Y/N turned back to face the house, he almost missed the feeling of her gaze boring into him. Almost.

“Someone’s hurt”, she suddenly said, her body tensing like a drawn bowstring, her eyes fixed on the door. “He’s dying”, she added, turning her head just a little to a side, as if she was listening in on something.

Sirius felt his heart skip a beat as he shot James a panicked look. Potter’s eyes were wide as he ran up the porch, swinging the door wide open, barging in.

When Sirius burst through the doors, following him, he almost threw up - the stench of blood quickly filled his lungs like water, nearly drowning him in fear. The whole room was whipped into a frightened frenzy - he couldn’t make out any faces in the dim lighting as he rushed to the kitchen table. Even though the body’d been beaten into a bloody mess, one look at the man sufficed to put a name on the victim. Alastor Moody’s magical eye was spinning like an enchanted carousel in its orbit, begging them to do something - anything.

“Out of my way, Sirius!” with his eyes wide and his hands trembling, he felt Molly Weasley push him to a side as she hurried over to Moody with some nasty-smelling potion. He barely registered seeing Evans sitting at the table’s end, holding Alastor’s head in her bloody hands, her eyes pooling with tears.

“I’m so sorry, Alastor, dear, this will hurt”, Molly whispered as if not trusting her voice, pouring the potion all over his ribcage. Despite the pain it must have caused him (as the potion came in contact with his torn-apart skin, it sounded like an egg frying in a red-hot pan), Moody didn’t even utter a sound.

“Molly…” Sirius heard Remus speak from somewhere behind him, breath still caught in his throat. Lupin’s voice sounded so far away… “Molly, there’s nothing… There’s nothing we can do, just…”

“Don’t you boss me around, Remus!” she snapped at him without looking, still perched over Alastor’s body with the potion bottle clenched tight in her tiny hand. “Just another drop, Alastor, last one, I promise…”

“Molly…” someone spoke, their voice hoarse and low - as if they had been screaming for days. “Molly, stop”.

When the red-headed young woman spinned around to face him, with her usually smiling face distorted with pain, Sirius realized that the voice belonged to him.

A barely there sob escaped Lilly’s mouth as she dropped her head like a broken doll; the sound of it so sad, it seemed to break Sirius out of his stupor.

His breaths were now rugged; the rage seemed to take his body and his mind prisoners as he turned around on his heels, pushing his way out of the house.

“Sirius”, he heard Lupin’s voice again, a faint attempt to stop him.

When he didn’t listen, Molly’s shrill tone nearly made his ears bleed.

“Sirius Orion Black! Stop this very second!”

He paid her no mind, running straight into Arthur. They collided in the doorway - seeing nothing but red, Sirius pushed Weasley into the wall, marching on, blood roaring in his ears.

“Just where do you think you’re going, huh?”

He could swear she appeared out of nowhere; lilac sparkles dancing on the surface of her frozen eyes. Her hands crossed on her chest, she flashed him a valiant look. In the back of his feverish mind, Sirius caught himself marvelling at how small she actually was, the top of her head barely reaching his shoulders; yet the craving for blood pushed him forward. She might as well have been the death itself - there was no way of stopping him now.

Without even as much as a quick glance at her beautiful face, Sirius made an attempt to sidestep her… Before he knew it, he was shoved aside, straight into the ancient clock he hated, the wood of the intricate design moaning under his weight.

The force with which she’d pushed him away, like he weighted nothing, left him lying there in the remainders of the family heirloom, gawking at her like a flabbergasted idiot.

It seemed he wasn’t the only one - a new wave of shock with a taste of terror spread all around the room like cancer eating at a body. As if expecting this kind of reaction, Y/N didn’t hesitate as she made her way to Alastor’s lifeless body.

She stopped just a few steps short of the table.

Half-closing her eyes, as if she were in some kind of trance, she rolled her head back, her lips slightly opened. A soft sigh escaped her mouth as she slowly brought her hands into the air, their movements slow and delicate, like those of a ballerina. Her words were barely a whisper as the strands of her hair danced around her head, soft warm glow forming slowly all around her.

Nobody moved. Completely mesmerised and helpless, all they could do was watch.

The air now buzzed with tender kind of energy as quiet sounds of gentle voices echoed in the room. When Y/N  lowered her head at last, her eyes fluttered open - her irises shone like liquid gold. With an almost sensual moan, she closed her eyes again, throwing her head back and arching her back.

Sirius watched, hypnotised and unblinking, failing to believe his eyes.

Pure white light, like curls of dense glimmering fog flowed out of her chest; it writhed and creamed, without a sound whatsoever, like a thought trying to form itself on the edge of consciousness. Slowly at first; then all of the sudden it all poured out, blinding and all too warm, caressing Black’s bruised cheekbone, but most importantly, his hand, just moments ago broken to bits.

The glass in the room sang; the chandelier cried softly and then the light started to fade. Sirius blinked something fierce, trying to see without the bright-coloured spots blocking his vision. He was able to catch the last remnants of light as it faded in Y/N’s eyes, before she closed them on a heavy sigh.

A round of suffocating cough filled the room followed by a heavy thump. With his face still covered in blood, Alastor Moody rolled off the table and fell, rather ungraciously, on the dusty floor.

Still staring at Y/N open-mouthed, with her eyes rounder than two galleons and just as shiny, Mollie rushed to Alastor’s side. Once she saw his eyes and heard his mile-long curses signaling that he was, indeed, very much alive, Molly cried out in relief, squishing Moody’s head in her tight embrace.

“You reckless bastard, what in Godric’s name did you do!” Potter cursed out loud, brushing nervous fingers through his hair, wet trails still glistening on his cheeks. His eyes never quit Moody’s frame.

“Come off it, James, he almost died!” Lily chastised him rather weakly, now sitting on her knees, by Moody’s side as well. “How are you feeling, Alastor?” she asked softly, “How do-“

“I died,” Moody suddenly said, sitting up straight as his hands roamed all over his chest. “Those sons of witches, they ambushed me! They-“ he stopped mid sentence, not sensing any cuts or broken ribs under his touch. “What did you- I died, I felt them kill me!”

And the world seemed to freeze all over again, as if enchanted by Alastor’s words. Every person in the room - Remus Lupin, Lily Evans, Molly and Arthur Weasley, Alastor Moody and Sirius Black - turned their eyes towards the girl who brought the wizard from the dead.

In her usual nonchalant yet not overconfident fashion, Y/N slowly raised her chin.

“Do excuse me for intruding on your secret…” she gave it a quick thought. “Fight Club”, she continued with a raise of her eyebrows. “But does any of you know where I can find Igor Karkaroff?…” -

The corridor had been quiet for nearly ten minutes now. Clearing his throat, Remus stole a look at his waiting companion.

With her head resting on her left shoulder, she appeared to be sleeping; but Lupin knew better. The moment the commotion from Moody’s revival settled, and his eyes fell on Y/N he immediately recognised her as one of them. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise - during his long werewolf career, he learned to pick up the signs, no matter how subtle they were.

It was in the curve of her neck. In the movements of her wrists. It was sleeping upon her lips.

The suffering.

He recognised her as one of them - one of his own - one of those who were destined to struggle all their lives for the choices that were made for them.

He didn’t know her story but he knew. 

Remus knew that Y/N was one of them.

“So you just brought her here!” Moody’s booming voice whipped the walls of the study again, echoing in the hall.  “No questions asked, nothing! You just rolled out the red carpet straight into one of our secret locations because you felt like it! Would you like to whip her a Butter Beer now that she’s here? Maybe offer her some biscuits?”

Remus squirmed at Alastor’s words. For someone who had very narrowly escaped death just mere moment ago, he sure had some strength in those windpipes.

Cursing the reason for which he was, de facto, still alive.

“Don’t… Don’t listen to him”, Remus spoke at once, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand, not looking at Y/N. “He can’t think straight… He was dead just five minutes ago, after all”, Remus reasoned more with himself, nodding his head eagerly.

He stopped dead, however, as soon as a soft melodious laugh reached his ears. Sharply turning his head to face his companion, Remus felt a smile emerging on his scarred lips against his will.

Y/N wasn’t asleep anymore (that is if she’d been sleeping at all). She sat straight in the leather chair by the dirty window, bringing her legs to hug them close to her chest. Throwing her hair to a side, she faced Remus, her features relaxed and peaceful.

“I don’t blame him,” she said with a soft shrug. “I would probably be just as pissed if I was him. I mean… “ she paused, a mischievous gleam glazing over her eyes. “…He was, indeed, dead just five minutes ago”.

Remus held her stare for as long as he could - until the two of them burst out in a fit of infectious laughter, nearly missing on Sirius’ response coming from the other side of the door.

“You have some nerve, Alastor. She brought you back from the dead!!” Black roared like a wounded animal. “I don’t trust her and I don’t think I ever will, but we have to give her a chance to tell us her story before we jump straight to conclusions - we owe her at least that!”

The sound of his voice seemed to bring both Remus and Y/N back to the real world - where a war was raging outside the walls and where wizards were dying by dozens with every passing hour.

“He actually sounds like he doesn’t hate me”, Y/N observed out loud, a bit impressed.

“Who, Sirius?” Remus pushed back against his seat, folding his hands on his chest. “If your surname isn’t Black, then you have nothing to worry about”.

Y/N grunted in response, dropping her gaze to the floor.

“I think I heard him whispering to James that I was probably “Blacker” than his mother”, she shifted her gaze to face Remus again. “Do you think that counts?”

Lupin chuckled whole-heartedly.

“A profession of love? So soon?” he faked astonishment.

A soft laugh bubbled out of Y/N’s chest; it was cut short, however, by the slamming of the door as Alastor Moody resurfaced from the study, his face so red, Remus almost got afraid the veins in his neck would pop like champagne bottles.

“We would like to ask you a few questions, Miss…” Moody managed through gritted teeth, stepping aside to welcome her into the room.

“Y/N”, with her usual grace of a swan, she rose to her feet, throwing Moody a wicked smile. “I would, however, expect a man to remember the name of his saviour”.

Something sounding a lot like a chortle reached her ears, right before Remus cleared his throat.

Gritting his teeth some more, Moody mentioned for Y/N to come in.

His bright blue eye then focused on Remus.

“We won’t wait for Dumbledore”, Alastor announced curtly. “Fetch the Weasleys and Evans, Lupin. I’m sure they’d love to hear the witches’ story.”

[irisviel101]

Masamune and Chao Xin | An Underrated Rivalry

Immediately on Chao Xin's debut, it becomes very clear that the two of them are very different. Masamune and Chao Xin and foils for each other; they're two characters with different personalities and beliefs.

However, they are more similar than they seem at first glance.

Their biggest similarity is their confidence. Both Masamune and Chao Xin have complete faith in their abilities, maybe even a bit too much. But while is manifests in Masamune as ahis obnoxious, loud personality, Chao Xin's overconfidence makes him careless and uninterested. While Masamune revels in defeating his opponents decisively, Chao Xin prefers to just breeze through life because as far as he's concerned, he can get things done if he wants to.

This aspect leads to their first clash, where Chao Xin deflects all of Masamune's questions about him and his views on beyblade. To Chao Xin, Masamune is just a loud, annoying kid he could defeat easily. For Masamune, Chao Xin is a flashy show off whom he could defeat easily in a real battle.

Another similarity is that they're both very easy to goad into things. It's more obvious for Masamune because of his loud and expressive behaviour, but for Chao Xin, it's more in terms of his image. To convince him to battle Masamune, all Dashan has to do is say this:

Dashan: "I don't care if you're bored or your head hurts. You're gonna battle with him now. Or are you afraid of looking uncool if you lose to him?"

Chao Xin: "As if! I'm not afraid of anything."

That's all it takes to get Chao Xin to agree. For Masamune, this trait is even more obvious. For example, there's this exchange:

Chao Xin: "It's just that winning against you would have no meaning."

Masamune: "What did you say?! I would be the winner! Me, me, me!"

Another similarity they have is their tendency to disregard their opponents. With Masamune, this is first seen in his debut, where he doesn't take Yuu seriously at all and then leaves to find Gingka without even finshong the battle, declaring himself the winner arbitrarily. With Chao Xin, this tendency is one of the major problems Masamune has with him. In a way, Masamune's battle with Chao Xin on the Great Wall is him being on the receiving end of his treatment of others — most notably Yuu.

In their first meeting and throughout their battle, Chao Xin doesn't take Masamune seriously at all, much like Masamune had taken Yuu easily in their first battle. Throughout this battle and the next one, Masamune keeps trying to get Chao Xin to take him seriously, to convince Chao Xn that he can't breeze through his career as a blader. There may be other similarities too, but Chao Xin's few major appearances make them harder to pinpoint.

Masamune and Chao Xin are two sides of the same coin; they have similar traits, if not the same, but they manifest in different ways. They're both arrogant, but Chao Xin is less in-your-face about it. They're both hot-headed, but it's more noticeable in Masamune bcause of the laid-back image Chao Xin puts up. They both show little respect for their opponents, but it's more noticeable in Chao Xin.

In a way, Masamune becomes to Chao Xin what Nile later on becomes to him: someone who shows them that there's always someone better. Up until this point, no one has been able to push Chao Xin to his limits in the way Masamune has, which is quite similar to Masamune's battle with Nile, only reverse.

Chao Xin is the one to first challenge Masamune's beliefs and ideals. Masamune is someone wo believes in hard work, dedication and persistence, whereas Chao Xin couldn't be more opposite in that regard. By defeating Chao Xin, using the very principles that Chao Xin challenges by simply existing, Masamune's faith in these ideals strengthens even more, though we don't truly see it until his battle with Klaus because his ego strengthens even more than that.

All in all, Masamune and Chao Xin are more similar than they seem at first glance, and their conflict is important to both characters because they both get something out of it. This is how you write a rivalry, with both people gaining something out of it.