#in snippets here and there and getting little more than moments. and it’s the certainty she’s only a problem so why not lean into it. at

[trollbreak]

Man I put on shuffle for eiteth brain and got yarrow angst instead. Hewwo??

[traintrainingmontage]

Assorted Character Headcanons: 5-7 (+ Emily)

James:

James is shockingly good at learning other languages. He picks up Sudrian rather quickly, surprising his crew, and gets snippets of Gaelic and Welsh when other engines or railway employees slip into those tongues. He even knows some French. It's a point of pride, but certainly one that makes him conceited at times. He's had a quite few moments where he asks the wrong question in the funniest way possible.

Percy:

I'm copying this over from where I submitted it to another blog, but Percy loves delivering the mail so much not just because it's a unique job, but it lets him make and see a lot of friends. In the RWS, Percy is shown to have a bunch of friends on the mainland; he probably has friends all around Sodor that he gets to catch up with during his mail runs and that's a huge motivator. He probably has the most friends of any engine on the island.

(Side note: I also have a headcanon about Percy's history and why it's never been confirmed in-universe.)

Toby:

His favorite pasttime is watching the stars with Henrietta. His driver and fireman have told him all about the constellations, and the two of them go stargazing all the time since they can get away from all of the light pollution and see the sky for what it is. It makes him feel small sometimes, but Henrietta says that it makes her feel like part of something bigger. All of the constellations make up the sky, just like all of the engines and coaches and trucks and vans make up the railway, and even if some constellations are bigger or more famous than others, it doesn't matter. They're all loved. And Toby finds that thought to be incredibly comforting.

Emily:

Emily really enjoys sunrises and sunsets. The beautiful colors are absolutely enchanting to her, and even though she's not a morning engine, she finds that on mornings when she manages to catch the sunrise, it makes her feel better. People have wondered what her fascination is, and to her, there's something marvelously comforting about how, when there's always new situations and complications happening, you can count on the certainty of the sun rising and setting to see something beautiful and uplifting at least once a day.

(My hc's for Thomas through Gordon are here!)

(Headcanons for the engines on the Little Western are here!)

[relevant-url-incoming]

Planting Seeds

a little introductory snippet of my favourite AU of my ocs: where Ven and Kit are the Sith lords, reluctantly and angrily, but at least they can cling to each other.

This deep into the tomb, Ven’s footsteps echoed. The screams of unlucky acolytes were distant now. Even the ones who were busy going crazy didn’t seem to have ventured this far. Ven kept her mind closed to the Force, refusing to even consider playing Sith any more than she absolutely had to.

Then there was another footfall, just out of time with Ven’s own steps. Ven stopped, her heart in her throat.

Something crackled. Ven whirled and brought her blade up just in time to catch the lightning. The Togruta Sith who’d thrown it clutched his hand to his chest, like he was the one who should be bothered. His lavender skin shone in the strange lighting of the tomb, and his white markings nearly blended with the yellow of his montrals. His lekku were short and a little stubby, and in any other situation Ven might have called his broad, soft features friendly-looking.

“Sorry,” he said. Ven tightened her grip on her blade. Was this a trick?

“Sorry,” he said again. “Are you all right?”

“Excuse me?” Ven said before she could think better of it. “What kind of question is that?”

He pulled a face that was significantly more sheepish than Ven thought a Sith could ever be capable of.

“Sorry,” he said a third time. “I thought you were a k’lor’slug.”

“Flattery gets you nowhere,” Ven said. She lowered her blade at last. “You’re the first Sith I’ve ever met who’d ask if someone’s all right.”

For a moment, his face twisted in anger – far more familiar, especially these days. Then he sighed, looking away.

“No one has ever accused me of being good at this.”

“If you ask me, that’s a good thing,” Ven said. She tensed, preparing to fight if he decided she was being insolent, but all he did was stare at her quizzically.

“You’re an acolyte, too, aren’t you?” he asked finally.

“Under protest,” Ven muttered. “I’m no Sith!”

His face went slack with longing at he stared at her.

“I wish I could say that with any certainty,” he said. “I’m Kitiver.”

Ven wondered if she should brandish her weapon again. Were they friends now? What was that about not wanting to be Sith?

Then again, he was a Togruta. Maybe he’d been a slave, too, before Korriban. Ven sighed and sheathed her blade.

“Ven,” she said. “If you hate this as much as I do, how’d you end up here?”

He shifted, looking uncomfortable.

“It’s a long story,” he said.

“I really don’t want to play the overseers’ stupid games,” Ven said, perching on what had once been a statue. “I have time.”

“They’re going to punish us both,” he warned her.

“Every time a Sith hurts me, they plant the seeds of their own downfall,” Ven swore. “If they want power, they need to realise that keeping slaves and forcing people like us into these hellscapes will only create enemies who are determined to take it back from them.”

He tilted his head, studying her with obvious curiosity.

“What?” Ven snapped.

“I see why they chose you,” he said. Ven bristled, and he held up his hands defensively. “I didn’t mean – you’re strong, at least! Not just in the Force, though you must be. That’s good, isn’t it?”

Ven felt like agreeing with him was as much a trap as arguing would be.

“Just tell me your story, or get out of my tendrils,” she said grudgingly. Kitiver glanced over his shoulder, obviously weighing his options. He must not have wanted to go back any more than Ven did; he sat down on the steps opposite her, casually electrocuting a k’lor’slug that appeared in the doorway as he did. Ven tried to cover her flinch, but she didn’t think she did a good job.

“There are some Imperial families who use children for prestige,” he said. “There are the heirs, of course, but then there are the savage aliens that some of the newer families adopt. To show how wonderful they are to share civilisation, you know. In my case, I was a two for one deal. An alien who should surely end up someone’s sex toy if it wasn’t for them, and a Force sensitive they could bundle off to the Sith for clout without having to worry about their precious blood descendants. Not that that idiot could ever do a damn thing with the Force.”

“Not exactly loving siblings, then,” Ven murmured. Her chest felt cold. She missed her brother.

“No,” Kitiver said. He sighed. “I tried. I thought, if I had one ally – but I was a fool. There are no allies when you’re Sith.”

“Then how do we walk out of here?” Ven asked. He clenched his fist, that same anger from earlier overtaking him once more. He didn’t seem to have an answer, but Ven could tell he wanted to. He wanted a friend, maybe even more badly than Ven did.

There are so many things I’m supposed to give them, Ven’s dad had said once when he thought Ven was in bed. It’s like every day I find out something else a kid is supposed to have. How am I supposed to give them anything when I didn’t even know it was an option?

Uncle Fives hadn’t had an answer. But the moment had stuck with Ven, anyway. There had to be things this Sith had never been given. If Ven didn’t offer, he’d never know anything else was possible.

“Tell you what,” Ven said. “Sith may not have room for real allies. But we don’t have to be Sith. No matter what they say, what they force us to do to survive. Wait for your chance, I’ll wait for mine, and we’ll get out of this alive and ourselves. Not Sith.”

He narrowed his eyes, studying her carefully. There was a thin gloss of yellow to them, flickering in the light, but Ven wasn’t sure how long she’d be one to judge. It was just like the rebellion, she told herself. You did awful things sometimes just to hold out for something better.

“Don’t betray me, I won’t betray you?” Kitiver said finally.

“I know I can trust you, if you don’t let your fear get in the way,” Ven said. The anxiety was palpable, now that she was looking at him properly. She’d thought it was just the lingering fear of the tomb, but no – that was all him. He was as terrified of himself as Ven was of herself, and ten times more doubtful. “I’m good with people like that.”

He pulled back, then laughed under his breath.

“If nothing else, I guess you’d be good to have on my side,” he said. “Shall we get back to our respective masters, Ven?”

“I have no master,” she said, but she stood. “Just don’t tell Zash that.”

“Deal,” he said. He hesitated where he sat, looking nervous. “If you leave Korriban before I do, if we don’t meet again – if you see a human Jedi, dark hair and green eyes, named Kaoja or Kaojacol – don’t hurt her. No matter what they try to make you do.”

“I don’t hurt Jedi if I can help it,” Ven said solemnly. “But I’ll keep an eye out for her, in particular. Were you a Jedi?”

He stood abruptly and stalked out. Ven swallowed hard, reminded of her brother and wishing she wasn’t.

“Take care of yourself, Kitiver,” she said.

[cfr749]

I’m always ecstatic when I see alerts come through that you’ve updated Beneath Your Beautiful.

Thank you so much for such a wonderful story! Like all of your stories before it, I’ve thoroughly enjoyed reading and re-reading it. I selfishly wish that you’d take Chenford out to play more frequently, but, I will take what I can get.

I wondered if you would share about this story’s length. Initially the chapter count was less and I’m just curious about if something changed after you started writing it.

Did it follow the course that you always intended or was there something that came about after you started writing it that you wanted to explore?

Sorry for the weird ask. Just interested to know about your inspiration for this story and how it evolved in to what it’s become. 🥰

Thank you!

Hi anon!

Not a weird ask at all - just ridiculously kind and so sweet! I’m honored you’re interested enough to ask!

In terms of length, I never in a bazillion years expected (or wanted) this fic to be as long as it’s gotten. Not sure what it is about this world that sucked me in and had me writing so much, but here we are 😊

I think I've generally stayed true to the major beats and spirit of the story I was hoping to tell, but, at the same time, I also made some major changes along the way that had a massive ripple effect.

Lucy’s panic attack in the caves, the Redwood inspired needle incident, the virus situation are just a few examples of moments I inserted on the fly that ultimately fed into the biggest change which was the emotional pacing.

Tim ended up realizing his feelings for Lucy and deciding he wanted to try and make it work with her way earlier than I had originally intended. I think this actually happened because of how intense the reaction was to what Tim did to Lucy the morning after they slept together in Mexico. I remember reading comments that were like 'I don't even want Lucy to take him back!' that made me realize just how much work I had in front of me, so Tim didn't get to be an aloof dickhead for nearly as long as I had originally planned.

In the original draft, the reveal about Lucy’s past and what happened with Rosalind / Caleb was the turning point where Tim finally woke up and realized how little he actually knew about Lucy and what a total and complete knob he was being... lol.

Snippet from the original scene:

"I’m so sorry, Tim. That must have been so awful." And there’s something in her expression as she says it — an earnestness — that tells him she’s not just saying the words because she is supposed to, but that she truly means them.  He blinks, surprised at the warmth that is blooming in his chest in response to her kindness and understanding. And though he doesn’t mean the next words as a jab, he knows immediately that they come out sounding like one based on her reaction, “So yeah. My reasons for doing this are a little more complicated than going on a bad date.” She jerks back as if she’s been slapped, sucking in a surprised breath. The warmth and concern for him in her eyes fades so quickly that Tim has to do a double take.  He stops immediately, the realization that, in actuality, he knows very, very little about her reasons for being here, and the certainty that there is far more to it than just a bad date sinking in his stomach like a block of cement.  She’s blinking rapidly, and as usual, her eyes are so expressive. He swallows seeing the distress and pain there. “Lucy, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have —“ Her voice is icy when she responds, and on some level it makes Tim respect her even more, how fierce she is even when it’s clear she’s upset, “In my defense, it was a pretty fucking terrible date.” She says bitterly. “My last date was with a serial killer, so yeah, I’ve had kind of a hard time getting back out there.” His jaw drops open in disbelief, surely she must be joking. But there’s no humor in her expression at all. Just a cold detachment that he’s never seen from her before. This woman who has basically been a nonstop explosion of sunshine is suddenly not at all who he thought she was.  “I — uh. I’m sorry — I didn’t know.” He fumbles over his words as she stares back at him. “Lucy, I -" He reaches for her, and the way she immediately pulls away from him cuts him to his very core. She had come into this, open and willing to trust him, give him the benefit of the doubt, and he had obliterated that.  Her eyes are wary, “I think I’m just going to call it a night.” He swallows, inexplicably feeling a lump in his throat like he’s going to cry, like he’s so royally fucked something up, failed to even bother to get to know and understand this woman, to see that there is so much more than just a bubbly and cheerful girl.  He simply nods, and watches her back as she walks away from him.

From there, Tim being there for Lucy after Jackson would have been another foundational building block that brought them closer together, and Tim wouldn't have told Lucy he loved her until she was breaking up with him on Decision Day...

So not exactly what I had planned, but I think I'm pretty okay with how things have turned out (assuming, of course, I finish this story sometime in the next 3-5 years).

Thanks so much for the ask, anon! Your kind words are so, so appreciated ❤️❤️❤️

[illegiblehandwriting1]

YO GUYS. GUYS I DID IT. I had my last final today and it wasn't fun, but at least it's over!!

AND it's Wednesday! so, i've never done this before, BUT! i feel the need to celebrate w/ a small snippet of s&a ch 16, so here ya go :3 idk if this is a lot for a sneak peek, but in terms of this chapter, it is absolutely nothing, so, eh! fuck it, ya know?

----

Hyrule had always loved caves. 

Where other heroes had proper towns and stables and inns, Hyrule had the caverns and cave systems that spiderwebbed beneath the surface of his home in every direction. Overworld monsters liked all the pale sunlight they could get. Dungeon-crawling monsters always preferred to stick to a certain room, and that was their turf; their home. 

An empty cave meant a safe spot, a rest stop, a moment to breathe. He didn't get very many of those. 

So when Hyrule had said he had been exploring that cave under the tree roots, he hadn’t lied. 

Technically. 

He had explored it. He had searched each crack and crevice with a distinct curiosity, wondering why it was here, who had made it, how convenient it would be to get to if he was in terrible shape: all the questions that he usually wondered. With each second spent in the darkness, he felt his heartbeat slow down from its thunderous pace. 

Okay, so contrary to what he told the heroes, his focus on the cave beneath the tree roots was more than just a habit or an interest. 

It was almost like a home. 

And maybe that was a little unhealthy, when he considered any enclosed, underground space to be safer than being surrounded by allies — comrades, friends, brothers — but at least he could breathe, in a cave. At least he could know that when he huddled himself up in the corner of the dark room, the hard rock pressed against his back and told him that nothing else was behind him. There would be no knives in his shoulder blades, no hands pushing him away or pulling him too close. There would be no claws ripping into his flesh and pouring his blood onto the earth. At least he could see the only entryway to the darkened alcove and know with full certainty that if anyone tried to come in, he would see them first. 

And it wasn’t that he didn’t trust any of the other heroes: that was just wrong. He trusted them with his life, and coming from the teenager with the blood curse, that was saying quite a bit. 

But there was a certain tension in the air around the group of travellers that had been there for weeks now. It wasn't exactly a secret as to why — they all knew why. 

Sky was gone. They needed him back. 

And they didn't know how to get him. 

But Hyrule found himself worrying his lip until it bled. He noticed his shoulders rising up to his ears. The tension in his frame. His locked jaw and the sudden snappiness that he kept swallowing. 

So the moment they stopped, he ran and hid in the safest place he could think of. Hiding was what he was best at, after all. 

It was what he had always done to escape. 

But it was quiet, down there in the dark. It was still and silent and maybe even peaceful. He was alone, if only for a moment, and that was what he was used to. Maybe he liked being around other people — well, that was a lie. He craved their presence like a bee craves nectar. It was soothing in a way that nothing else could be, when you had a comrade at your side in battle and a friend next to you at dinnertime. 

But the lonesome cave was familiar, despite the completely foreign territory they had all been treading since they'd first entered the Breach of Demise. 

It was familiar to sit, back pressed against the rough cave rocks, and just breathe. 

He imagined that he was home again. He was alone in his travels. He had no one to look after and no one to look after him. 

He didn’t have a missing brother. 

The bittersweetness of the illusion tasted wrong. It wasn’t something he could just magically go back to. Not after everything. But it was close enough, and that was all he needed. Just for a moment. Just until he had to turn on the lights again. 

Someone called his name. Not his birth name, not the name that everyone in his world connected with a curse and a bloodstained future reminiscent of a bloodstained past. No. That wasn’t what he heard. 

“Hyrule!” someone yelled. 

His allies — friends, brothers, family — were looking for him. 

He’d never had much of a family before. 

He couldn’t let this one fall apart.

---

also, um. so.

i am. not done yet. so.

[thatbanditqueen]

Dear Norah, thank you very much for tagging me in the newest episode of The Only Sure Thing, that was really thoughtful. I've just got around to read it and it was so good.

Their banter at the beggining was so authentic, I felt that I was the one eavesdropping. As always you are truly a master at capturing E's speech and it is so easy to imagine him saying everything that you've written.

Poor Midge is so hard on herself. She wants to be seen as someone different than the rest of E's girls (mainly Anita, in this case) yet she is victim to the completly normal feelings that one experiences when in love and even more when it is the first time. There is this tug of war between her need to explore and discover who she is and her desire to be immersed in E's world.

The scenes were E comes to visit her were fantastic. It's clear that he sees her as a sort of safe place, where he is not being pushed in a hundred different directions. I can't stop wondering about the tool that such a heavy responsability will have on Midge. There was a moment where you described the idea of "bending time and space to your will" and it feels so real. I think that E's need to both control and help those around him gave him the idea that there was nothing or nobody that could stand between him and what he wanted. That feeling of certainty must have been so powerful to have around and so contagious.

The connection to real events (or as much as we can describe them as such) was inspired. I love that I can see the amount of details and research behind each episode and how well you fit them in your own narrative.

A small detail that I love is how you describe the way that E holds girls, the big hand, right on the rib, under the boob and splayed towards the belly. I've always loved it and it is great how others have picked it up.

Sorry for the delay and the long message. It was such a great episode Norah, I can't wait to read more of them throughout the years!

All the love, Cami. 🥰

Cami, Mi Amor,

Ha, yes, I am here to tag anyone I think might be interested, lol, I hope you would let me know if you want off. Have you read any books about Elvis? I go through and clip little snippets of the way he talks that just make me burst. Even if he is angry or upset, I love studying him like he is a research project and I am searching for the answer. The answer to what, I don't know. I also just love this time in history, the fashion, the music, ugh, I want Midge to live for me, and I try to write her thinking about how I would be in this situation, both in love with E and everything he is, but also interested in my own pursuits and protective/jealous.

The way he touched women just makes me swoon, I get excited just thinking about it, and that underhanded grip right under the breast at the waist is one of my favorites! Ughhhh.

I hope you are well, I love talking about Elvis and these stories with you, as always. Feel free to share any of your favorite trademark elvissy things with me, I love hearing about those little things he does that other people in the fandom have noticed.

xoxox

Norah

[davnittbraes]

YESSSSSSS

Welcome out of the cave, friend! I would love to hear a little about “A Study in Feminism”!!

Also, which Gershwin??

Lol hiiiiii thanks for dragging me out here!

A Study in Feminism is a lil one-shot, with Frankie and Reader in a newly established relationship. While waiting to meet up with Frankie at a bar, a creepy guy hits on Reader, refuses to take no for an answer. Frankie arrives and steps in, but things escalate and Reader loses her temper, punches the creep in the face, and her and Frankie make a quick getaway. Then the two have to negotiate Reader’s conflicted feelings about being “rescued” by a man. 

Here, have a little snippet:

For context: Frankie and Reader are just returning home from the bar, calming down after a nasty blowout fight where not-so-nice things were said. 

*****

You can’t even look at him, can’t see the hurt that you know is obvious in those warm, brown eyes. Instead, you focus on his hands, on the large palm cupping the pack of frozen peas to your scraped knuckles, the long fingers of his other hand gently curling around your wrist. 

All the fire and heat and fury that burned in your chest moments ago suddenly sputters, flickers. Dies. 

A heavy sigh loosens the tightness in your lungs. “I’m not mad at you.”

His fingers flex on your wrist, his low hum of disbelief vibrating over your skin. 

Fuck, you really screwed this up, didn’t you. 

Letting your head fall back against the wall, you force yourself to look at him. He needs to see it, that you’re telling the truth. “I mean it. I’m not.”

That warm gaze meets yours - yeah, just as you thought, it’s there, hurt tinged with anger and now doubt. 

Oh. That stings more than the hurt, actually. 

The knowledge that he’s doubting you, your honesty. Maybe even how you feel about him. 

Fuck your pride, girl. Just tell him. 

Shifting your wrist in his grip, you take his hand, squeeze it tight. “Look, I liked it, okay? And I’m angry with myself and I took it out on you and that’s not fair, and I’m so sorry, Frankie. I’m sorry.”

A frown forms between his brows, his gaze flickering over your features in confusion. “Liked what?”

Oh god, just say it, get it over with. “When you showed and like immediately stepped in to defend me, physically put yourself between me and the threat with no hesitation, then stood there with your stupidly broad shoulders and strong arms and testosterone and this whole aura of “don’t fuck with my girl” and god, Frankie, it was so hot. “

His mouth twitches, lips curving at the corners and his frown melts away, hurt in his eyes replaced by fond amusement. “Oh yeah? You liked that?”

Your nose wrinkles as embarrassment tries to push you away from him. “Yeah, I did.”

“Wanna know what was really hot?” 

His voice dips low, rasping down your spine, pulling it into an arch that curves your hips toward him, a movement tracked by his gaze. 

He definitely catches the clench of your thighs, too. 

His thumb glides over your bruised knuckles. “What was really hot was watching you clock a guy with at least six inches and fifty pounds on you, staring him down like you were gonna castrate him right there in the bar.”

Biting back a grin, you twine your fingers in his, cocking your head to the side. “If only I had a knife.”

He chuckles - fuck, why is that so sexy - and suddenly tugs you toward him, pushing into your space, his chest brushing your breasts through your shirt. Anticipation catches in your throat, arousal you’ve been holding back for so long pulsing to life. 

Then his expression turns serious, thoughtful. “That’s what I was thinking, you know.”

Your thoughts are already sluggish with a pleasant haze, it takes a moment to figure out what he’s referring to. “That you wanted me to cut his balls off?”

“I was thinking don’t fuck with my girl, because she’ll make you wish you’d never laid a hand on her, and leaving with your balls still attached is the least of your worries.”

The absolute certainty, the pride in his voice - some emotion you’re not ready to name twists behind your ribs, trembles through your veins. 

God, what you wouldn’t do for this man. 

Slipping your fingers from his, you let them trail down his chest, the slight swell of his stomach, brush over the bulge of his jeans. His breath hitches as you press your palm there, lean in to murmur against his lips. 

“Don’t worry, your balls are safe with me.”

*****

Aaaaand extremely descriptive smut ensues 😌😌😌😌

PS - George and Ira! Somewhat ironically for this post, I had Someone To Watch Over Me on repeat. Not what I would consider a particularly feminist song lol. But it is very pretty!

[royalreef]

        The water flow, this near to the front of the ship, is unidirectional and strong. They left early in the morning, her serfs handing her bags down to her proper servant staff, come up from below to ferry her back to the palace, and the pace they’ve maintained since they left out has been brisk and hurried. Miranda can tell that through the windows, the streamers and twirlers and other things of beauty, marking this as a royal vessel, all spinning around at speed and flashing lights through the darkness. Even though the incurrent nostril has grates and breakers and other things to slow the flow in through the cabin, it still pushes through her with a force, and she had to crawl along the wall to get to her current seat, staring out into the yawning blue abyss. Her gills scarcely have to close, her mouth hardly having to pull in more water to wash over them.

        It’s... odd, to be here again. Not odd in the sense that she’s not dreading what’s coming, jagged snarl of guilt and fear and sheer animal panic growing in her stomach and tying her guts in knots. Odd moreso in the sheer difference of what it’s like, to be back underwater again. Properly underwater, properly within her kingdom’s borders, properly among other merfolk.

        She’s spent too much time with landfolk, maybe. Even though her body takes to the ocean with a clear certainty that relieves her of pains she didn’t even know she had, she doesn’t feel like she fully fits here anymore, not in the same way as she’s supposed to be. Every little thing is compared back to what she knows upon land, snippets of thought collected in the back of her mind to tell her friends about when and if she gets back, things to teach them about the Merkingdom. Even though she’s spent most of her life underwater, it takes a moment to readjust to the differences in how to operate the world. It shocked her the first time she reached for a handle and did not find that it was made for someone with radically different hands than her. It gave her a brief jolt to realize that she didn’t have to open doors the same way that she had to above water.

        Somewhere beneath her, the navigational crew is arguing about something, and Miranda can feel their words bloom out beneath her chest, making the floor vibrate. Somewhere behind her, her servants are exchanging gossip, catching up and discussing the serfs that she kept above the waves, how strange it was to see. Bellanda, in another cabin, is going over the terms of their arrival and the upcoming first checkpoint.

        The world underwater is so much louder than it above. Everything feels tethered together, connected in the ebb and flow, pushing in and feeding her back out into this great net, instead of giving nothing to her but dead air. It feels like home, but a home that’s changed since Miranda left, and she doesn’t know if someone switched the locks.

[thatgirlonstage]

I posted 5,715 times in 2022

That's 3,862 more posts than 2021!

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Blogs I reblogged the most:

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I tagged 4,636 of my posts in 2022

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#critical role - 385 posts

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Longest Tag: 139 characters

#without thinking ‘mcdonald’s cashier who still causes incidents every time he’s at the register despite having been here for fifteen years’

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Want to cry about Johnchurch today, because apparently I do

I think about… Lucretia could only erase what she could write down. And Merle was the only one who ever went into Parley. Merle was the only one who ever met John. And Merle (Clint) notoriously has a bad memory. Whatever recap he gave to the crew, and to Lucretia for her journals, was never going to be all that detailed.

(And I’m willing to wager, even out of what he did remember, he didn’t tell them ALL of it. Some of those moments were private.)

So Lucretia does her best, but her erasure of the Parley sessions is… spotty. Incomplete. Merle can’t remember WHO the man in a suit that he played chess with was, or what happened to him, or where he met him. But he remembers the man’s face, in snatches and moments. He remembers a tumbled mix of emotions—anger, exasperation, worry, hope, pain. Never fear. He remembers thinking he probably ought to be afraid, that most people would be, that it would make a lot more sense to be afraid. But fear was never quite the right description of what he felt, thinking of the man in the suit.

His memories of the man in the suit are… strange. Fractured. His head hurts if he tries to think about them for too long or too closely, if he tries too hard to remember, to put it back in context. But snatches of their conversation drift to him, across the years. Strange, sometimes incomprehensible snippets, where the words out of his own mouth don’t make any damn sense.

(This works, by the way, with the headcanon that Merle’s spotty memory occasionally spits out something backward, something ought-to-be-voidfished, like when he says in the first episode that he feels like he and Magnus and Taako have grown apart. There’s a little bit more of an opening, a little bit more of a handhold for the memories to pry their way back in, than there is for the others.)

And he knows—senses, remembers, intuits—that he shouldn’t tell anyone else about his memories of the man in the suit. He feels, with an almost violent certainty, utterly strange considering how vague his memories of the man himself are, that no one else would understand. So he stays quiet. The man lives in his head and his fogged memories, at once intrusive and comforting. The man was important to him, or is important to him still. Merle isn’t sure which one it is. He’s never been one to let himself get stuck on quandaries, theological, existential, physical, or otherwise, though, so he lets it be. He’ll meet the man again one day. He feels quite sure of that. In the right moment, and the right place, he’ll meet the man again, and something about his shambles of a life will click back into place.

The day of Story and Song happens, and everything rushes back, and the only moment of calm he gets for the next several hours is the near-silent goodbye on the beach, during which he and John do nothing but exist side by side, for a little while. It’s all either of them really want or are able to do. Anything else is too messy, too painful. This way, it ends in peace.

Everyone else—all the other members of the red robes—they will have time to reconcile, to work through piecing back together their shattered memories and disjointed lives. Merle will have time for a proper talk with Lucretia, for a joyful reunion with Lup. He’ll have time to sit down at a table with Davenport a week later and play euchre, until both of them, almost without warning, find that they’re both crying. He’ll have time to pull his kids onto his lap and tell them his own version of the Story, of how they fit into it. He’ll have time to puzzle his life back into a complete picture.

He doesn’t get time with John.

He’s walked around with a half-static memory of the man for a decade, and there’s no time to process the truth before they have to say goodbye.

No one else knew him. No one else will ever mourn him. Everyone else is celebrating his demise. If there’s grief, it’s only Merle’s.

His end is peaceful, by the shore, and silent, because Merle has no time to unpick all the things he wants to say.

That’s alright, though. They both know that’s alright. John’s been muddled too, if differently, unable to think clearly for years, crushed beneath the collective scream of The Hunger. It’s a blessing to have that moment of clarity and peace at all.

They don’t need to say anything. They both already know.

Still, it aches in Merle’s chest at night, sometimes, like the pain of his phantom arm, all the things he might have said and never did.

210 notes - Posted January 26, 2022

#4

Do you have any good Humans are space orcs/humans are weird (that kind of thing) short story links?

Hoo okay so the reason that I was asking about the Doctors Without Borders one (which is here, incidentally, and which you should read if you haven't come across it before) is that 1) I have been doing some personal archival work to save some internet stories offline, but 2) I have been historically good about tagging my fandom stuff but have unfortunately left most non-fandom stuff untagged, and by the time I realized I ought to've created a humans are weird tag it was too late, so my blog is Not a good place to try and find them. But, since I'm trying to dig them up for myself anyway, I can share the ones I've managed to find so far. And hey: open invitation to anyone who wants to put links to their favorites of the Humans Are Weird stories in the reblogs or replies!

I'm also going to recommend you check out blogs like @what-are-even-humans and @space-australians, which exist to archive these sorts of stories. I will also do what someone did in the replies of my query post and point you to r/HFY and specifically its sidebar of links to previous classics and must-reads -- I'm not as familiar with that bc I don't use reddit so much but it helped me dig a couple of these back up.

But onto a few highlights:

Stabby the Space Roomba is required reading, he is our beloved Tumblr mascot of Humans Are Weird and you'll see Stabby referenced in other stories like this

Less a humans-specifically-are-weird and more of a Earth-is-a-death-world in general, but as I remember it, this post actually predates the explosion of Humans are Weird/Humans are Space Australians/Humans are Deathworlders on tumblr, and I suspect helped inspire it as people went from "wow our planet is full of weird shit" to "maybe... we also... are some weird shit". Take a wander through the notes of that one, it has a million different branching reblog chains and it's different every time I see it.

Humans Are Unstoppable Until They Aren't

Drake McDougal (Part One) (Part Two) (Alternate Part Two)

Last Contact

You Really Want a Human (Ginna's Story) (Miscellaneous)

I KNOW there are more that I want to find again that I'm gonna have to get creative about searching for (again, open invitation to drop your favorites on this post!) but that's what I have for now and it should get you started.

217 notes - Posted November 15, 2022

#3

Hey does anyone have a link to that one particular humans are space orcs post where the premise is like all the other planets are terrified to make contact with humans but then one planet gets the plague and a human ship turns up and it's the space red cross?

I'm sure it's on my blog somewhere but yknow *gestures at tumblr's search system*

237 notes - Posted November 14, 2022

#2

Made a Yuri on Ice meme while talking to a friend about genre conventions in sports anime the other day and I feel strongly that I ought to inflict it on the world

[ID: The galaxy brain meme. Next to the smallest brain the text reads, “Yuri doesn’t need a sports anime protagonist superpower because he’s already an internationally competitive figure skater.” Next to the middle brain the test reads, “Yuri doesn’t have a sports anime protagonist superpower, which is not only narratively appropriate for his character but also largely the point of the whole series. He is a skilled and dedicated athlete whose greatest achievements come from passion and tireless hard work, but all of that can only flourish under the support and guidance of people who love him and see his potential, even when he cannot see it himself. YoI is about the achievements that come from commitment, because it is at heart a love story.” Next to the largest brain the text reads, “Yuri’s sports anime protagonist superpower is that he’s sexy.” /end ID]

434 notes - Posted January 2, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

The sending stone died before Cerrit made it out. And Cerrit is a full-classed rogue. No Sending, no spells at all. With nothing but destroyed continent beneath him, he’d have no way to contact anyone.

His family had *no idea* he made it out. They very probably assumed he didn’t.

When the entire continent of Dunemas went dark, when the news started to filter back of its destruction, when the scant survivors started trying to reach their families…there was no reason to believe that Cerrit had escaped.

Survivors and their stories emerge—but they’re civilians, mostly. Regular people who escaped on ships, through teleport, through trees.

The ones from Avalir and Cathmoíra have one particular story to tell: at the end, the Herald told them that the ring of gold, the magisters, the leaders of the city would go down with the ship. That no space on what lifeboats they had would be taken from Avalir’s people.

So that’s the answer: Cerrit, too, would have gone down with the ship.

His wife probably had a difficult conversation with their children. Told them about sacrifice, told them sometimes we lose people but they will always love us just the same, told them that their dad sent them away from the city because he loved them more than anything in the world and then spent every last moment he could trying to save as many more people as he could because he was a good man, because he cared so deeply, because he found problems and fixed them. These conversations probably happened amidst panic and chaos, as news of the attack of Vasselheim spread, as the gods descended and magic raged out of control across Exandria, as the Betrayer gods wrought as much destruction as they could cause.

Were they still at home, when Cerrit finally found them? Did their home still exist after all those weeks he took flying across the ocean? Did they need to flee somewhere safer? Did Kir scrawl a note somewhere the wreckage — “Wingspan: gone north-by-northeast. Look for trail markers on the trees” because he’d promised, mom, he promised, and what if he’s coming but he can’t find us because we’re not here? Did Cerrit have to bring every ounce of his investigation and tracking skills — with no magic, no Avalir, no Patia to let him look back at memories, no Quay to inspire him, no Nydas to fund or enchant any helpful items, no partner to compare notes with, nothing but his sharp eyes and his brain and utter fucking determination — to follow after his family, weeks on an already weeks-long journey, slow and messy and fearing every day he might be too late?

Did he show up almost unrecognizable, head to toe in soot and dirt, some new scar from his near brushes with death, some fresh wounds still bound in bandages for want of anyone with healing spell slots? Did he find his family weary, grieving, scared, but whole and—for the moment—safe? Did they even believe it was him at first? Did they fear he was a ghost, or worse, some horror dragged from the wreckage of Avalir and reanimated by an enraged Asmodeus? Did he take off a bandage to show he still bleeds, and bleeds red, did he kiss his children’s heads and call Kir “Talon”, and see Maya clutching the sphere as if she hasn’t let go of it since it landed in her hands, and tell her—voice breaking at the reminder of Patia, at the first thing he has seen in months besides himself that survived Avalir’s destruction—that he is so, so proud of her, and more importantly he loves her so, so much, and then they knew, then they were sure: Cerrit kept his promise.

1,469 notes - Posted June 27, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[millermenapologist]

Hey, I don't really send things hut you mentioned your fic and I had to read the last chapter (it was good to do so, because I was a bit tipsy the day I was reading and now I paid more attention to things, anyway...), so I wanted to talk about it❤️❤️ first, you write so perfectly it's actually insanely ridiculous how talented you are. I mean, everybody can qrite fics, sure.. but you darling? If you said to me you are a renowned author who hides behind a blog on tumblr, I would believe it. The way you describe things, describe feelings and just fucking describes everything is just **chef kiss**

I love how joel is treating ellie now that things calmed down, even when he doesn't communicate with words, he does it with actions and physical touch a lot: hugging her from behind when she goes to sleep with him, the way he asks if she wants him to do her hair even when she doesn't need help, the way she just casually sits on his lap and he holds her like his baby (and when they long talk during these moments even tho he's so tired from work), the way he can't even think of her as a sexual creature with anyone because she's so cute to him (that scene cracked me up🤣), the way he puts her to sleep with bunny so she can hold it, the way he deals with her rage storms like he's a fucking pro (or when he he disciplined her about good manners, but soon after he asked her if he got too hard with the scolding lmao), the way he's willing to buy her braces and afford anything she wants like birth control (I wonder how would joel react if ellie sees a toy she wanted to have as a kid but never had it, I bet he would buy without thinking. And of course his soft old ass would get all emotional watching her unpack at home). It's like she was always meant to be there with them, it's crazy. He should be grateful every day that Sarah had good taste and brought Ellie into their lives.

Also, Idk if it's because I'm young or if it's because I'm slow, but where exatcly Danica wanted to go with that talk about david? You know, that scene where she's talking to joel while he holds ellie and ellie is pretending to sleep. She implied something that left everyone speechless and then boom, next scene. I'm thinking about possibilities of what she meant, but Idk if I got them right. Could you explain.

I saw the recent posts of yours and I saw the snippet you posted. How is miss ellie gonna deal when he finds out sarah is cannibal?👀👀 Maaaan it's gonna be tense?? Oh what if this part of the plot has to do with sarah lying about her route back to home hm. Also, was david cannibal this fic? I don't remember well.

Omg, anon, thank you so much ♥（ﾉ´∀`） you're making me blushhh

I am trying to become a serious and published writer, but all that comes out are either little fantasy Renaissance fantasies or contemporary novels that would need to be pushed by an actual publishing house to have some kind of audience. Either that, or I get the Pedro Pascal girlies really on board ｡ﾟヽ(ﾟ´Д｀)ﾉﾟ｡ I am, more than technically, a published author tho. Just not with fiction 😭

They're both canonically touch-starved but they're both also emotionally constipated as all hell, so I try to fix it by making them as touchy as possible in every possible solution 😭😭 They need to hug their issues out sometimes, man...

So, I can already tell you that, because of how Ellie was raised (one toy, no certainty about her home, sharing her room and all her possessions), she has never coveted any kind of toys, but in the very final chapter (the epilogue) she will receive something she has always wanted and already mentioned here and there a couple of times, even if not in direct conversation with anybody.

I didn't go more into depth into that scene because they were supposed to discuss it during the pre-trial preparation, but then thought the scene over another time and figured it'd fit better in chapter 5, so... no worries, it will be explained in a very direct way (also because Ellie hasn't connected the dots on it yet either).

Oh, that's another fic! And hopefully, it's gonna be just a oneshot (Shoot for the Stars was also supposed to be one looool). So, no: Sarah didn't chew her way through David and she 100% killed him by stabbing him with the knife Ellie gifted her for her birthday.

Shoot for the Stars is very much set in like... normal reality, while that other fic, To Be Consumed, takes plenty from the concept of "magical realism."

So... as for that fic, do you really expect Ellie to not be a cannibal too? (｀∀´)Ψ

[bacon-sandwich-of-dionysus]

Yet Another Snippet of Bloodhound

I can't keep this to myself. I really can't! I wrote this and it made me feel so now you guys have to feel.

I'm going to put a 'read more' here for those who don't want any spoilers for the next chapter.

This is for Phillip Graves' side of the fic!

Word count: 1, 347

Warnings: This gets a bit sad :(

Phillip sat down next to 72 in front of the campfire. She had her neck craned upwards, eyes fixed on the stars above, their endless patterns reflected in her brown eyes. 23 was with her too, though had fallen soundly asleep, tiring herself out as she had tried to identify the various constellations dotting the night sky. 

“Admirin’ the stars, are we?” Graves remarked as he settled in his seat on the floor. 

“You should be with the others,” 72 replied, not even bothering to acknowledge the distant echoes of their howls. 

He shook his head. 

“I don’t know if you’ve seen me, kid, but I don’t look like I’m fit for running around in the woods, barkin’ my head off.”

72 turned around to face him. The girl looked him up and down, a slight furrow in her brow. 

“You’ve not had your first change, have you?”

“I’m afraid not.”

She looked back at the sky, exhaling through her nose, cherishing the fresh country air now that she had her mask off. 

“Maybe I won’t ever change,” Phillip said, almost to himself.

“No. You will.” 

“How can you be so sure?” he asked, dreading the answer. 

“If there’s one certainty in life, it’s that an Arcadian Son will always change.”

Phillip pressed down on his mask to expose the lower half of his face and brought the thermos to his lips, looking away for a brief moment. A shudder ran through him. He had escaped death’s gnarly clutches only to fall into the trap of an even worse inevitability. He had denied, denied and denied… and he would continue to do so. Graves didn’t want to become whatever his colleagues had turned into about an hour ago, and he resented 72 slightly for confirming his worry that the same fate would befall him sooner or later. In a last-ditch attempt to try to have hope for his dwindling humanity, Graves pestered the lamia with more questions.

“Will… Will I…”

He paused, before letting out a sigh.

“72, what’s gonna happen to me?”

Phillip could have sworn he saw a flash of something akin to sympathy cross the girl’s face before it returned to its blank, indifferent expression. 

“I don’t know but what I’ve seen is that you’ll probably be in a lot of pain. Then, you’ll… you know… and finally, you’ll wake up with pretty much no recollection of what had happened.”

“So, I won’t be me?”

She nodded. 

He cast his mind back to Valeria as his reflective eyes fell on her distant shape, leaning against the tree, her restraints temporarily removed so she could eat and have the dignity of going to the bathroom privately. The man could not remember much from what had happened after the cartel lieutenant fired at him. He had begun getting the occasional flashback a few hours ago, but his repressed memories gave little away, other than muffled screams and the smell of iron. 

“How do I know I haven’t changed already?” 

“You’ll know when you have, trust me. I’ve been with enough Arcadian Sons to have seen what happens.”

“And I’m assuming you know what to do in the event of me… uh… you know…”

“Yes, sir.” A small, prideful grin crept onto her face. “I do know. I’ll get as far away from you as I can.”

“Good.” He nodded to himself. “That’s good.”

They sat together for a while, in comfortable silence. 

“I find it odd how you’re so afraid,” 72 suddenly spoke, turning to him. 

He smiled resignedly, knowing full well she was probably working her strange ‘lamia magic’ and was peering into his mind. 

“Aren’t others afraid?”

She shrugged. 

“Maybe. I’ve just never been grouped with a fledgling before.”

Fledgling! Graves repressed a chuckle. That made him sound like he was a newborn foal trying to find his footing for the first time. 

“Need I remind you, that I was a commander and CEO of a PMC, and I’m currently your superior.” 

She let out a small laugh. 

“I don’t mean in a bad way, sir,” 72 explained, “I’m just saying that I’ve never been put with a Son who hasn’t been at this, uh, stage. Usually, the men I’m with have accepted the nature of their situation and just, kind of, get on with it.”

Get on with it. He scoffed. 

Graves took another swig of his drink. 

“I suppose I just have to accept that I’m a monster.” 

He sounded so despairing, so… 72’s heart sank. She would have scooted a little closer to him had 23 not weighed her down with her slumbering body. The girl decided that placing a hand on his armoured shoulder would have to suffice in comforting him. 

“I wouldn’t be so hasty making that statement,” the girl began, “You haven’t even changed yet.”

“No…” Graves shook his head, “No… I…”

He had to accept that this was what he deserved. The man had made the wrong choice and it had led to a chain of events which had put him here: on the precipice of losing his humanity entirely. He should have turned on Shephered when he had the chance, prevented bloodshed and ran with 141. As CEO of a PMC, he would have been in a much better position to betray the general, all he’d need to do was call the deal off, and maybe some paperwork. Nevertheless, he could have helped 141, maybe even gotten himself a few new Shadows as a reward. Instead, the obedient soldier had come out, and he’d followed orders to save his own hide, instead of thinking about the bigger picture. It had been a freak accident, what had happened during the black bag operation and the missiles. Shepherd had panicked, wanting to cover the mess up, in the hopes that no fingers would be pointed at him and, in turn, needed Graves to be the one to bury the evidence. God! All it was, was one choice. Once choice! Side with the incompetent fuck of a general or do the right thing!

He could have escaped the consequences of his transgressions in death, except that God had other plans. Now, he was here, cursed to never die and to change into the monster he truly was on the inside. 

Phillip clutched his head, then turned to look at 72. She had a face of concern. 

“I made some mistakes, girl,” he explained, wiping away a sniffle with the back of his gloved hand, “I’m regretting bein’ here.”

“Well, you’re here now.”

“I’m finding it difficult to accept.”

“I get it. I suppose being raised in the Foundation has made it easier for me to accept its nature. Look,” she made direct eye contact with him, “you cannot change what happened to lead you here and you’re certainly not getting out. Why bother straining yourself over this?”

“Because I’m scared, kid.” His voice shook again. “I’m scared.”

72 felt tears prick her eyes. She had never seen an Arcadian Son like this before. Hesitantly, she placed her hand on his. The lamia felt him ease a little under the warmth of her touch. 

“Well, sir, 23 and I are here. As your lamias, it’s our duty to look out for you as much as it’s your duty to look out for us. We’re a pack, after all. If we want to do this mission well, we have to work well.”

He sighed. 

No child should ever be talking to him like that, with the voice and intonation of a fellow soldier. He dreaded to think what the Foundation had done to her to make the girl sound like that. 

However, he didn’t want to sour her optimism or make her attempt at comforting him look like it had failed, so Graves decided to give her a gentle smile. 

His fingers intertwined with hers, and he held onto her, making a conscious effort to not grip her small hand too tightly. 

“Thank you, 72.” He sounded so sincere. “Thank you.”

They returned to their comfortable silence, both admiring the stars and that big, bright full moon.

[logicalbookthief]

Things Left Unsaid -- An Analysis of Rei & Touya

Apparently Rei has been getting a lot of flack lately, all of it undeserved, and since I had a post analyzing her relationship with Touya in the works already, I figured no time like the present.

Disclaimer #1: There are a lot of issues with the writing for Rei’s character that have nothing to do with her and everything to do with how the storyline is using her, which I will address and examine.

Disclaimer #2: I’m someone who, while always curious as to what kind of relationship Rei had with her oldest son before he died, never thought it would be revealed that Touya was close to his mom. I don’t think you get the Dabi we see in Chapters 290-295 without him being so warped by his relationship with his father yet so dependent on his attention that he was willing to kill his brother and himself simply for his father’s acknowledgement.

But that’s what I find so interesting about Rei and Touya -- it’s a relationship that mainly consists of regrets and things left unsaid. There isn’t the anger or resentment Dabi feels for Endeavor, because that intense level of emotion sprung from the loss of the father who used to be his whole world. His feelings toward his mother seem more amicable, but also more distant.

And while she could’ve done some things differently in regards to her oldest, I want to make it clear that the distance between them was very much by design.

After all, Touya was the end goal of their marriage. It was never any secret as to why Enji wanted to marry her and to some extent Rei must’ve realized that this child was not meant to be hers: the child was the transaction, the thing she was needed to create, to give to her husband. Of course she loved Touya and was likely his primary caregiver for most of his life, but there was no doubt that once his quirk manifested and he could begin his hero training, his life would be dominated by his father. Which is what happened.

Here, I would like to point out something I noticed in the flashback chapters. We never see any panels of Enji alone with any of his children during their infancy -- even with Shouto, the perfect child he longed for, we see Rei holding Shouto, sitting by him as he sleeps. Enji is there tangentially. Once Shouto begins his training, that is when we see him with his father.

So to see Enji with Touya when he was a baby, prior to his quirk manifesting, strikes me as a big deal. But it makes sense if you remember that he’d placed all his hopes, dreams and expectations on his firstborn. Initially, it doesn’t look like he even considered the possibility that Touya wouldn’t be his successor or that his little eugenics experiment would fail; this was his first, most optimistic attempt at a masterpiece. So I don’t believe it’s far-fetched to see him spend more time with Touya right off the bat (it’s what will make the eventual abandonment all the more crushing).

However, Rei isn’t seen at all in the snippet of Touya’s infancy, despite us knowing she was relegated to the caregiver role. Rei is literally out of the picture. Compare this to how she features prominently in Shouto’s infancy or how we see her holding a baby Natsuo. You could argue that, hey, we don’t see her holding a baby Fuyumi either, but there’s other scenes where Fuyumi’s attached to her mother’s hip or crying over her being hurt. Things that suggest a closeness, when the only scene we get of just her and Touya is one where they’re at odds. 

As we move further into Touya’s childhood, though, Rei becomes the only voice we hear advocate for him against his father. I’m referencing two specific instances:

When Enji coerces her into having more children to replace Touya now that his father has deemed him a failure, something she knows will hurt their son deeply.

And after Touya lashes out at Shouto, which Rei doesn’t blame on Touya, but rather on his father. She delivers such a satisfying condemnation of his actions, probably the most cutting one Endvr’s received to date, and it so accurately sums up one of his major character flaws.

How can you call yourself a hero when you can’t even face your own son?

The tragedy of it all is that Rei never said any of this in front of Touya -- it was always said in private, just to her husband. That alone took courage, yes, but it would’ve meant everything to Touya to hear her condemn his father aloud. Instead when she does speak to him, she says this:

It’s why I can’t wrap my head around that scene in Ch 302, where after Enji admits he didn’t know what to say to Touya, Rei replies, “Neither did I.” 

When we’re shown in flashbacks during that same chapter that she did understand her son. “He just wants to be acknowledged by you” is quite the indication that she, at the very least, understood the cause of Touya’s turmoil even if she couldn’t fully relate to it herself. So why can’t she say any of this to him?

The answer is in the way she addresses Touya, as it is nearly identical to how Nao addresses Tenko in this scene:

Both Touya and Tenko grew up in similar households: the father had all the power, physical and financial, so the mothers were left to try and comfort their children in a way that didn’t go against their husbands’ desires -- and so, to use Tenko’s own words, they would “reject them with kindness.”

So it’s no wonder that Touya lashes out at his mother after she suggests he pursue other things. He isn’t five like Tenko was, he’s thirteen and has a much clearer understanding of why she says this and why it’s a bit hypocritical, since he’s aware of her situation, too.

Just as she was bound by her family, who wanted her to marry Endvr for the money and status, he’s bound by the expectations of his family. I’m not sure if I’ve seen anyone else touch on this detail, but when Touya states that he knows his grandparents sold his mom into marriage so his dad could have a child, we could infer that Touya knows enough to realize that his mother might not have necessarily wanted him.

Not him specifically, but any child — the story has neglected to flesh her out beyond her marriage and motherhood, so we have no idea if Rei wanted to become a mother prior to this arrangement, despite how much she loves her kids now — although it is possible that he might’ve internalized it this way.

So you have Touya, who at least knows with certainty that his father wanted him to exist, yet he comes to understand that his father only wants him if he can meet a specific set of expectations, and if he cannot, he’ll be discarded. If he can’t surpass All Might, he can’t fulfill his reason for existing and his father will have to replace him. So to have his mother urge him to follow a path other than becoming a hero would mean, to Touya, accepting that he is the mistake he fears he is. Of course he isn’t going to respond well to that.

I don’t like when people try to compare Touya’s reaction in this moment to Shouto’s when Rei tells him he isn’t bound by his father’s blood, using that to paint Shouto as the “good” child and Touya as the “bad” one. They didn’t react differently because of any innate sense of goodness or lack thereof -- they reacted differently because the situations are different.

Telling Shouto that he didn’t have to be like his father comforted Shouto, who only knew his father as the bully who hurt his mom. He associated his father, and his father’s fire, with all of that fear and pain -- and thus, he associated the part of himself that took after his father with those feelings. She wasn’t denying his dream of becoming a hero, only assuring him that when he became a hero it could be whatever kind of hero he chose to be, that he wasn’t doomed to be like his father.

Whereas what she tells Touya sounds a lot like what his father told him, which was to give up on being a hero and pursue other aspirations.

Encouraging Shouto to become his own version of a hero still falls in line with what Endvr ultimately wants, which is for Shouto to be a hero capable of surpassing All Might. Whereas this is what happens when Touya continues to train to do that against his father’s wishes:

This is where the framing begins to bother me and where Rei’s characterization becomes inconsistent. 

So in this scene from Ch 302, we see Enji abusing his wife for “letting” Touya continue to train, punishing her for her “failure” to stop him. Obviously, none of that is Rei’s fault. If anything, Enji would be more responsible for preventing Touya from hurting himself since he’s the reason his son is hurting himself in the first place.

Moreover, the fact that he hits Rei over this sort of muddies the water of an previously-established narrative. Since the Sports Festival arc, we’ve known that Endvr abused his wife because she tried to interfere with Shouto’s training. It got to the point where she was terrified of her husband and it drove her to a breakdown. Why introduce this new aspect to the abuse, when it was already established that a) he was physically abusive and b) his motivations for abusing her were explicit to the audience? 

I’m not saying it doesn’t make sense that a man who hits his wife for one reason could find another reason to do it and justify his actions to himself. And while the scene does portray Endvr in a bad light to show how wrong his actions are, literally draping his figure in shadow, why does it even dare to suggest the idea that Rei was remiss in her duties as a mother? Again, the scene isn’t even necessary, since the narrative has long-since showed the audience that Enji abused his wife. 

By itself, the scene would read as further exploration of how Rei was victimized and how it affected her children. When you look at it with the chapter as a whole, though? Remember, this is the chapter where Rei claims that all of the family shares the blame in what happened to Touya, displacing some of the blame that rightfully rests on Enji. 

But my major gripe with this scene is how it reframes the sole moment we get of Rei and Touya alone. Because we know that Rei understands Touya, based on her confrontations with her husband in Ch 301 & 302. Rather than encourage him to be what he wants or acknowledge that his father is in the wrong, however, her advice falls in line with what Enji wants -- to stop Touya from training. And this comes after a scene where we see Enji beat his wife when she doesn’t stop Touya from training.

With all that in mind, it could potentially be read as Rei trying stop Touya for the sake of protecting herself and the family -- I don’t think it’s coincidence that in the scene where he hits her that we see Shouto, Fuyumi & Natsuo all as witnesses who are very distressed by what’s happening to their mother -- at the cost of Touya’s need to be validated. And if executed well or at least better than it has here, that wouldn’t be a bad choice of narrative per se, and it would fit into the pattern where the households the villains were raised in -- notably Shigaraki, Dabi & Toga -- mimic the society they live in, just on a smaller scale.

Except. Does that sort of narrative make sense based on what we already know about Rei?

Certainly, it is natural to want to protect yourself under physical and/or emotional duress by appeasing your abuser. This sort of complicated dynamic appears in the Shimura family, too. Just like in the house that Kotaro built, the Todoroki family revolves around the desires of the abuser and is dictated by his whims.

I would argue that Nao does give us a well-written example of this narrative. From the beginning, it’s established that she loves Tenko dearly. But in the house her husband built, there’s no room to love her son as he deserves. She prioritizes the feelings of Tenko’s father for the sake of maintaining peace in the household and this is established quickly and plainly.

Early on in the flashback, Kotaro exerts his control over the house, while Nao + her parents look uncomfortable. Despite this, we watch as they comply with his rules, all at the expense of Tenko’s feelings. When she stands up to Kotaro at last, it is not where Tenko can see and already too late. It’s a painful story, full of regret and sadness, but it is consistent from start to end. Nobody feels out-of-character or there to prop up anybody else.

So why doesn’t Rei feel as consistent in this narrative?

Because it doesn’t fit with everything we knew about Rei prior to her abuser’s subpar redemption arc.

The way she interacts with Touya would make sense, if this was how she was portrayed from the start. However, her behavior in Shouto’s flashback -- where she was first introduced -- contrasts what we get in the later Todoroki flashbacks.

Let’s compare this to the scenes in Ch 302. Here, Rei interferes on Shouto’s behalf. She advocates for her son in front of Shouto where he can hear. She stands up to his bully/villain and tries to protect him, while also validating his feelings in the process. Directly after this, Enji hits her, not for failing to comply with his demands, but for defying him. 

It is difficult to reconcile this Rei with the Rei we get in Ch 302. And if you try to find an in-story reason for the inconsistency, the options either do a disservice to Rei or make things even more painful for Touya. But I’m sure most of you have realized that I’m going to suggest a reason for this inconsistency that goes beyond the canon.

Because when Rei was first introduced in the story, Endvr was unequivocally the villain in the Todoroki family, not some misguided patriarch trying to atone for his “past” mistakes. Years later and in the midst of his redemption arc, the narrative seems to be intent on making this man more palatable to readers, and it’s used Rei at every opportunity to prop up his efforts to be better. Often, though, it takes some of the heat off Enji by displacing it onto other family members, most significantly Rei & Touya.

Like, you can literally see the difference in the frame from early in the manga to now:

Ch 39: Endvr trains his five-year-old to the point where he’s throwing up due overextension and being punched by a fully grown adult who is also his father. Rei tries to protect her son and gets slapped by Endvr. All the blames rests squarely on Endvr, who is clearly the aggressor and painted as the villain here.

Ch 302: Endvr hits Rei for not preventing Touya from sneaking out to train, knocking her to the ground. Again, Endvr is clearly the aggressor, but oh this time it’s not driven solely by his selfish desires it’s also cocnern for his son; Rei is the victim but oh she also should have been watching him more closely, and oh well why was Touya going out in the first place, when everyone has told him to stop and he knows his mom will get punished for it?

Honestly, I can understand where some people have mixed feelings over Rei’s character, particularly since the writing has done her such a disservice recently. With that being said, however, it takes a minimum amount of critical thinking to recognize that while you can criticize some choices she made, you cannot hold her to the same standard of accountability as Enji, it’s absurd. The power imbalance was obviously tipped in Endvr’s favor, always.

It is a shame, too, that we can’t have more discussions that don’t turn into some readers (a lot of whom are attempting to make Endvr sound less horrible than he actually was) trying to demonize her. It’s doubly a shame the story itself doesn’t bother to flesh her out as a person, instead using her as a prop, because the complex relationships she has with Touya -- with all her children, really -- has plenty of room for exploration. 

Like, there was no reason to add this new dimension of resentment due to her spouting Enji’s words back at Touya, when there was already a source of tension supported by previous canon -- the neglect the Todoroki kids suffered because Rei couldn’t be the parent they needed, due to her declining mental health and eventual breakdown.

Or, if you want to complicate their dynamic further, why not add something that focuses on Rei and has nothing to do with Enji? We learn in the flashbacks that Rei agreed to the marriage more-or-less to please her family, lamenting that she “intended to smile through it to the end,” essentially admitting that her hope was she could grin and bear it. It is telling that she had this attitude before entering her marriage; evidently, she was raised with the idea that she should be acquiescent to her parents’ whims and not express herself if she was only going to be contrary. Maybe she didn’t know how to deal with Touya’s very expressive, very emotional outbursts as a result. And her inability to respond would be the exact opposite of what Touya was seeking.

Not to mention that Touya died, and for the last decade, Rei was under the impression she had lost her son forever. He died while she was hospitalized, torn up with guilt over what she did to Shouto, only to find out that her other son died in a frankly horrific manner, and she could do nothing. By the time she would’ve found out, it was too late to even try to do anything. I can’t imagine what she must’ve felt in terms of regret alone, plus her grief. And I’m still mad we were robbed of her reaction to Touya being alive, because now suddenly there is a chance to do something, to change what was once written in stone.

Or what about Touya’s feelings for his mother, that have yet to be given much depth? As the oldest and most aware of his existence, it seems like he was the first to truly understand his mother’s situation and I can’t help but wonder: If Touya knew he vessel for his father’s ambition, and his mother was sold into role of creating/caring for him, did he question her love for him? Once he found out one parent’s love was conditional, it wouldn’t be a leap for him to consider it for the other. And yet if that’s true, Dabi doesn’t appear to hold any ill-will towards her for that. He was angry at her hypocrisy, because he knows she should understand, but her words to him didn’t reflect that.

All of that is fascinating and so much better than what we got in canon, so far at least. I’m hoping for them interact in the present at least once before the end of the series, and I think they will, but as to how satisfying a reconciliation it’ll be, I guess we’ll have to wait to see how the Todoroki plotline progresses from here on out.

[lizhly-writes]

HI THERE @todidot you are VERY FUN i love you and your tags.

ANYWAY. Here's my essay.

I would like to take a moment to note that, during the above snippet (they’re… oh, 16-18 here?), Yang Haoran does not consider Yang Haoshu competition.  She absolutely used to be — the thing about Yang Haoshu was that she acted and behaved near-identically to Yang Haoran when they were younger — but her own epiphany about her parents’ attention drastically lowered any effort she put into making her parents proud of her, possibly even to the negatives, which means, currently?  

She’s the family fuck-up.

Here’s a deleted bit that I decided wouldn’t quite fit in a 4am discussion:

Yang Haoran didn’t like talking about it.  That was something he and Yang Haoli both had in common, despite the fact that Yang Haoran hated ever saying Yang Haoli was right about anything.  Neither of them liked acknowledging that out of the three of them, Yang Haoshu was obviously the least favorite child. That hadn’t always been the case.  Once upon a time, Yang Haoshu had fought for their parents’ favor just as hard as he did, and had been just as successful.  But there was only so long you could fight a losing battle, and Yang Haoshu wasn’t afraid to admit that her limit was lower than her brother’s. Why bother making her parents happy when it was so much easier getting them angry?  That was far more fun than constantly trying to be what her parents approved of. “Why do you have to be like this, Shu-er,” Yang Haoshu said softly. “Shu-er, you were so good when you were younger, why are you like this now?  Why can’t you be as dedicated as your brother, why can’t be as focused as your brother, why can’t you be as hardworking as your brother? Isn’t it always like that?” Yes, Father, no Father.  Yes Mother, no Mother.  Didn’t it get tiring, saying this kind of thing over and over again?  Who wanted to live like that, constantly bowing their head in the hopes of earning a prize already won by someone else?  Was the prize, in any case, even worth the struggle? Being obedient, being dutiful, being filial, what was the worth in it, if all you would ever win was the certainty that you still weren’t as good as your older sister? “It’s not,” Yang Haoran started.  He stopped.  He didn’t continue, because if he continued, he would be lying. It was always like that, because Yang Haoshu was always, forever, willing to start a fight with anyone who spoke to her, and especially if that anyone was either of their parents. Oh, why can’t you ever be well-behaved, Shu-er?   “Isn’t it funny that they think you’re so much better than me?  I make you look so good when I sit next to you, and it still isn’t enough.” The lament around the dinner table, every time, went like this: you can never be as good as your sister, but can’t you at least be as good as your brother?  At least, like her brother wasn’t top of the grade, top of the district, top of near-every metric he could get his hands on.  At least, like all of the accomplishments he had ever strived for was some easily-achieved bare minimum, capable of being reached by any worthless squirming parasite languishing in the mud and shit of the world. “Doesn’t it make you mad, A-Ran?  Doesn’t it make you feel like nothing?” “I don’t need to hear this,” Yang Haoran said tightly.  Who knew, maybe he was right – maybe he knew, all along, the truth of what Yang Haoshu was saying.

She is absolutely looking down on him for this and while he’s a little bit angry about it, he’s mostly kind of uncomfortable.  Yang Haoshu might say she doesn’t care about their parents, but in his eyes, she utterly hates their parents – she goes out of her way to antagonize them, and if she’s speaking to Yang Haoran about them, she tends to sound dismissive or vitriolic.  He thinks she has issues.

Anyway, the odds of her actually being handed any company position and actually accepting it is… nil.  Especially when she goes off into acting school instead of taking up a ‘useful’ degree. 

There is some tension, sure, but it’s from the fact that Yang Haoshu is a very weird mirror of himself.  He sees her as a corrupting influence, and he’s not wrong, because ultimately, what Yang Haoshu wants is to make him just like her.

As children, they behaved identically.  This was a lot more than just surface level – there were few, if any, differences in their personalities, values, and interests. At this current point, this is no longer the case.  Their values are different enough that they don’t really get each other anymore, and both of them miss that.

Yang Haoshu’s solution to this problem is to repeatedly shove the uselessness of fighting their older sister in her brother’s face.  Yang Haoran absolutely sees Yang Haoli as competition.  But his odds of ever doing better than her are miniscule, and Yang Haoshu means to hammer that in.

Why?  If Yang Haoran truly accepted that 1) he would never get his parents’ attention 2) the position of family heir was useless, he would find himself behaving not dissimilarly to Yang Haoshu.  If he gives up, then he’s back on the exact same page as his sister.

… Well, maybe a couple pages off.  After all, he’s not going to suddenly care about skincare and having lots of friends and an acting career.  Still!  Close enough.

Yang Haoshu is not fully aware this is why she’s doing what she’s doing.  In her mind, she’s trying to do what’s good for him, because it’s so sad that her brother’s like this, and if only he has the same realization she had, he’d be much better off.  She’s not wrong, but she’s almost completely missing her more self-serving reasons for doing this.

Yang Haoran, on the other hand, is fully aware of those self-serving reasons and man does he have some weird and conflicting feelings about that.  

In regards to Yang Haoli… well, at least she’s got the one sibling who’s perfectly happy to let her baby them.

cnovel shenanigans: a different kind of twins au. had this in my giant wip document in a while, decided to polish it up to take a break on what i'm supposed to be working on. surprise! it's yang haoshu and yang haoran (og).

Yang Haoshu glanced at the door that linked her room to her brother’s.  At the ever-auspicious hour of four in the morning, there was still light seeping out from under it.  Maybe Yang Haoran was passed out on his desk with the lamp still on, like he’d been prone to when they were younger; maybe he was still obediently, diligently hard at work.

There was really only one way to find out.  Delicately, Yang Haoshu twisted the doorknob and stepped inside.

Yes, he was clearly awake, squinting at his desktop monitors, one hand tapping at his keyboard and the other scribbling in a notebook.  He didn’t notice her as she stepped in, didn’t notice her as she got closer, didn’t notice her as she hovered a hand over his shoulder.

He very much noticed when she slapped her hand down.

It was a little like watching a bomb go off – body going tense, whirling around with sharp, furious, motion, ready to bite off the head of anyone who even looked at him wrong –

“Hi, it’s me, your sister!” Yang Haoshu said.

She did so in a cheerful, innocently oblivious voice, the kind that heightened mild annoyance into pure rage.  It always worked well enough on Jiang Mingxi.

It didn’t have any real effect on Yang Haoran, desensitized by long-term exposure. He simply sighed, rubbing at his eyes.  “Haoshu.  What are you doing up.”

“I just woke up,” Yang Haoshu said.  “Because unlike you, I went to bed at a regular time.  Don’t you know that staying up after midnight is bad for your skin?  What will happen to your pretty face then, huh?”

Said pretty face twisted in distaste. “Don’t start that again, is it so important to you that I care about how I look –”

“It seems like such a shame to finally win the looks competition just because you don’t care.  This is the sort of sentiment that’ll make you old before your time, you know?  You’ll look forty at age twenty–”

“Haoshu,” Yang Haoran said forcefully.  “What do you want.” He was twitching faintly.  If it was because of irritation, no harm done.  If it was sleep deprivation, though…

When was the last time her darling brother got a full night’s sleep, anyway?

“Nothing, really,” Yang Haoshu said, instead of straightforwardly asking this question.  “I just wanted to see what you were doing.”  She leaned forward, peering at the neatly arranged windows on his monitor.  “You’re trying to get up-to-date with company info?  What a good, dutiful son you are, hmm?”

Yang Haoran bristled preemptively.  “Don’t start that again.”

“What am I starting?  I thought you liked being told you were such a good boy.”

“Why do you have to make me sound like a dog.”

“But aren’t you, though?  I mean–” Yang Haoshu gestured at his notebook for emphasis – “look at you!  Diligently learning what needs to be learned!  Unwaveringly doing whatever your owners want!  Did Mother or Father even tell you do this?  I don’t think they did!  You’re jumping to heel without even being told!  How well-trained!  What a good prize hound!  If they enter you in a competition, you’re award-winning for sure!”

“Did you only come in here because you wanted to call me a dog first thing in the morning?”  Yang Haoran said, hackles raising, his pen stabbing into – no, through – the notebook by the strength of pure irritation.  Well done, gege! “You couldn’t have even waited until breakfast?  Did you just want to be certain this was the first thing I heard all day? Are you really this bored?  You really don’t have anything better to do?  Here’s a suggestion: sleep.  Didn’t you just say staying up after midnight is bad for your skin?”

“Now, isn’t that hypocritical, A-Ran?  After all, you’re still awake, killing yourself trying to be as good as Da-jie, aren’t you?”

Yang Haoran narrowed his eyes.   If she had been a stranger, he probably would tried to kill her (subtly!) for saying this kind of thing, but Yang Haoshu had the advantage of being the only sibling he liked.  Instead of going for the throat, he only said, “Get out.” 

“Really?  You could at least let me finish.”

“You give me the same lecture every time.  It gets old, I don’t need a refresher.”

“You always need a refresher, because you never understand my point.”

“Your point is that I should give up,” Yang Haoran said flatly.  “What’s to understand?”

“You make it sound so bad. It’s good advice, I’ll have you know.”

Yang Haoran wasn’t the only one who had tried living up to their parents’ expectations, after all.  Yang Haoshu had done the same; it was just that, unlike him, she had realized that there was absolutely nothing she could do that could ever compare to what Yang Haoli had done before the both of them.

Grades, talent, skill, intelligence, pure fucking luck – Yang Haoli would always beat them both.  When it came to their parents’ attention, Yang Haoran and Yang Haoshu would always lose.

The only way to win was not to play.

“What, you’re saying I should be like you?” Yang Haoran said derisively, who had never been convinced of this line of thought. “Accomplishing nothing of any importance, failing at the very start just because I can’t be bothered to try for a higher standard?  Just because you can do it doesn’t mean I can do the same.”

Ouch, gege.  If Yang Haoshu was anyone else, she might be – y’know – hurt.

“That’s a pretty uncharitable way of looking at it,” Yang Haoshu said.  “You sound just like Ming-jie.  She says this sort of thing about me, too.  You know, about how I’m irresponsible and taking my privilege for granted and how I’m wasting all my time on frivolous things.”

His expression twisted, obviously dissatisfied.  Wasn’t this what he just said, in different words?  But ah, it was only gege who was allowed to insult his very cute meimei, huh?  Even his fiancee wasn’t allowed!  One could even say that especially his fiancee wasn’t allowed!

There weren’t very many people Yang Haoran hated more than Jiang Mingxi, after all. 

“But then again, maybe I should expect this from you,” Yang Haoshu said.  “You’ve been getting along much better with Ming-jie lately, so maybe it’s not so much of a surprise that husband and wife are speaking with the same mouth.  All those ‘training spars’ alone – ”

“What exactly are you trying to say here,” Yang Haoran said, scowling heavily, which was disappointing, she was honestly hoping to get a more telling reaction out of him.

“What, me? Am I trying to say anything?  Who’s trying to say anything? I’m straightforwardly implying you two fucked, but that’s just a guess on my–”

“Do you want to die, is that it? I can help you with that.”

“So touchy, A-Ran.  Picking up habits from Ming-jie, aren’t you?  She’s such a bad influence, I should tell her to stop infecting my brother with her delicate sensibilities.  It’s no good to be so…”  Yang Haoshu clicked her tongue.  “Emotional.”

The corner of his mouth twitched.  It wasn’t a smile.  But it wasn’t not a smile.  Yang Haoshu had finally steered the conversation into territory they both liked: making fun of Jiang Mingxi. “If you tell her that,” he drawled, “you really will die. Calling her delicate and emotional – do you have a death wish?”

Yang Haoshu blinked innocently. “But gege will defend me though?”

Now that was a smile – a little too sharp to be presentable, but a smile, nonetheless.  “Defend you? How do you know I won’t help her?  You keep saying that we’re getting along so well lately, after all.”

Ah, A-Ran was always so happy when he got to be mean.

“That would be such a betrayal,” she pouts.  “How could you?  And when I’m always on your side when Ming-jie attacks you–”

“You’re on my side because you think it’s fun.”

Well.  That wasn’t wrong. It was incredibly fun antagonizing Jiang Mingxi, which was why Yang Haoshu did it so often.

Still, Yang Haoshu pressed a hand over her heart, mock-hurt.  “How could you say that, can’t it just be that I care?”

He scoffed, like he always did at the thought of anyone doing something as plebeian as caring about him. 

Yang Haoshu was really so tired.

“And because I care so much–” she patted his shoulder.  “I’m telling you to go to sleep, A-Ran.”

“Haoshu.  I have things to do.”

“You’re really driving yourself to an early grave, you know,” Yang Haoshu said, and, because she knew that Yang Haoran had never really been afraid of dying young, she added, “Anyway, do you think you do good work when you’re sleep-deprived?”

Yang Haoran paused. Yes, she had him there – he didn’t give a shit about his health, but when it came to his work quality, that was something he cared very much about.  

“It’s fine,” he said.  To anyone else, he would have sounded really rather sure of himself.  To Yang Haoshu?

He did very well with sleep deprivation, she knew.  Much better than the average person, just like Yang Haoshu, and like-but-not-quite-like Yang Haoli. But even he had his limits, and while those limits were very high –

“When was the last time my darling brother got a full night’s sleep, anyway?”

Yang Haoshu didn’t know the answer.  She was betting neither did Yang Haoran.

“It’s fine,” he repeated, as if saying it with enough force would be enough to make it true.

“Is it?  Oh, but what do I know.  It’s not like I’m used to looking at this.” She tapped the row of numbers on the screen – revenue, profit, expense, debt.  Quarterly reports for the family company and quarterly reports for every single other competitor they had. 

All meaningless garbage.  

“Gege is so accomplished,” Yang Haoshu said.  “So sure you haven’t, ah… misplaced a number somewhere?”

If Yang Haoshu had wanted to be mean, she would’ve added something about Yang Haoli – how reliable their jiejie was, a machine that never needed to shut down for maintenance, no sleep no food no drink necessary for perfect work.  It would have even been true.  Their older sister, inhumanly perfect, impossible to live up to, worthless to try against.

But that would really do nothing but start a fight.

It was 4AM. Yang Haoshu really had better things to do – sleep, for one.

“Go to bed, A-Ran.  I promise you’ll be much more efficient in… well, I’d say in the morning, but we’re already there, aren’t we?”

[softboiledteacozy]

Beneath the moon, the reaper -

This is a BaroRyuu drabble based on an idea that was being discussed in the BrRy server about a Victorian era zombie AU. I kind of immediately pictured this scene and had to write it down. Might eventually flesh it out, but for now, have some zombies. The title is a tiny snippet from The Lady of Shalott because whyever not haha

(Usual violence content warning expected of any zombie media, I suppose?)

- - - -

The bowstring is about to give. Ryuunosuke has known his prized weapon long enough to know that this time, it sounds different, almost desperate in its creaking. But right now, it's all that's keeping him from being mauled by yellowing teeth, from being ripped to shreds by those long-rotten fingernails. The creature roars again, and Ryuunosuke tries to push back harder against it even as he fights against a wave of nausea from the fetid corpse stench that hits him like a tangible wave. He lets out a soft, pathetic little moan, still cursing his luck for ending up in this situation in the first place. If only he hadn't taken that turn, if only he hadn't run into the narrow alley, if only he hadn't allowed himself to be cornered... But it's too late for regrets now, and all Ryuunosuke is asking for now is to not die here. He grits his teeth, trying to gather his resolve and the remaining dregs of his strength. Once again, he hears the groan of the string as it cuts into the palms of the creature. 'Please don't break. Please don't break,' he repeats over and over in his mind, a prayer as much as anything. Which is of course, when the string snaps clean in half, making the creature collapse halfway on top of him. Ryuunosuke lets out a strangled scream, and he slams the remains of the bow up in a desperate attempt to fend it off. As the polished wood collides with the zombie, it roars again, as if with renewed vigor. It's clearly just waiting for Ryuunosuke to tire so it can take him out once and for all, and Ryuunosuke's arms are already trembling from the constant strain. Another growl comes from high above him, and Ryuu barely has time to look up before a second monster is stumbling off the roof of one of the buildings that make up this alley, having spotted fresh meat. Ryuunosuke manages to duck before he's attacked by the new assailant, and he blindly swings the broken bow in an arc to try to fend them off.

Before he even has time to fully consider the situation, two shots ring out in quick succession, and both zombies crumble to the ground. Standing at the mouth of the alley, much to Ryuunosuke's surprise, is Barok, a smoking gun held in his outstretched arm. Their eyes meet, both panting from very different reasons, and Ryuunosuke can see the shock plain in van Zieks' face for a moment. Ryuunosuke scrambles back to his feet and runs toward Barok, when the adrenaline high he was riding suddenly comes crashing down on him. Before he can even reach the man, his legs suddenly seem to give out from under him, and Ryuu, still clutching the remains of his bow, half collapses against the dirty brick wall with a choked laugh that comes out as more of a sob. He starts to tremble and cannot seem to stop himself. "I thought I was done for back there..." His tongue feels heavy, and for some reason, he seems to have forgotten every damn word of English in his extensive vocabulary. Getting the words out takes more out of him than expected, but the words do come, almost unbidden. "I thought they were going to eat me. I-I thought I was going to die, and if you..." Ryuunosuke trails off as he feels a heavy hand on his shoulder. He looks up and meets Barok's pale blue eyes, his gaze as steady and unshakeable as ever. Ryuu clings to this certainty like an axiom. "Were you harmed?" Barok asks, to which Ryuunosuke shakes his head. "I managed to fend it off, but my bow..." Barok looks down at the broken weapon and gently pushes the pistol into Ryuunosuke's open palm. "This'll do for now then. Until we find you a proper crossbow." But Ryuunosuke gawps at the weapon and then stares wide-eyed at Barok. "I... I've never even used one before." There is a shadow of a smile on Barok's lips as he replies, "Neither had I, before today." He pauses for a beat before reaching up to cradle Ryuunosuke's cheek in one gloved hand. Ryuunosuke closes his eyes and feels the whole world right itself for a moment. "I am glad I reached you in time." Ryuunosuke laughs at that, just a soft exhale of breath, and he nods. "So am I." "Come. They'll surely have heard the gunshots; we mustn't linger." Barok wraps his arm around Ryuunosuke's and tugs him close before cautiously leading them out of the alley, keeping himself between Ryuu and the street as if to protect him from any oncoming danger. Ryuunosuke keeps a tight grip on Barok, and the two men make their way down the silent street toward the van Zieks manor to seek refuge. And, though neither of them knows it, they're both thankful for the other's presence, as it gives them the strength to take another step forward.

[buckysgoldenheart]

Angel in the Dark

Demon!August Walker x Reader

Summary: After a one-night stand, or what you thought would be one, a demon drags you to his world and forces you to grow wings like he has so you would have to stay with him, unable to permanently return to Earth.

Notes: (So this is like a one-shot that is little snippets/summary of something I might turn into a multi-chaptered fic. I’m not sure if I’m going to do that yet or if anyone would even like this idea, but if it seems a bit choppy, this is why.) I know its been an age and a half since i posted anything, but college, ya know? Also to those who have made requests, I have started all of them and they are to be posted next. I just started this fic a long time ago. I havent written anything for a while so it might actually kinda suck. 

Warnings: Implied smut, kinda. Unhealthy attachment on August’s end. If I make this chaptered then there would be actual smut. I think cursing. Eventual Stockholm syndrome if continued.

Words: 1713

 Angel in the Dark

You didn’t believe in fate, not really. You didn’t believe your life was predestined or anyone else’s to play with. It was yours alone, to make choices, good or bad. Only you decided when you did things and where you did them. And no one would have ever been able to convince you otherwise, until you met him.

Seeing him in that club, kissing him before you knew his name, now you couldn’t help but feel was in some way a trick, manipulated in his favor. That maybe bumping into him, quite literally, was his orchestration. Maybe whether you spoke to him or not, he had his sights set on you, and a one-night stand was never going to just get to be a one-night stand.

It was all too simple. Meeting you and not taking advantage, kissing you but following your lead, sleeping with you like you meant something to him. It didn’t add up. You could sense the kind of man he was; dominating and possessive. Too dominating and possessive to be as gentle with you as he had been. And all of it fell into a perfect line for what you now realized he wanted from you: not just sex, but more; nothing less than your life. But admitting all of that to yourself was entertaining the possibility that you were stalked like prey and any training at staying away from bad men had been a useless waste of time.

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

It was the third day, third of eight. August promised the pain would subside as the days passed, but so far he was proving to be a liar, not to your surprise. Every few hours, the wings ripped your skin wider to accommodate their size as they grew from the inside of your body pushing out. At three days, they were now the span of a couple feet, shining an opalescent white in the glare of the sun.

As you laid on your stomach, frozen in place against the mattress, wings bloodied and draped across your back with your eyes closed tight, you tried to understand the depth of the pain; how it was able to hurt the way it did. The feeling couldn’t compare to anything Earth may dare to offer. So different, so unnatural in its entirety, and indescribably excruciating. It was merciless, not letting you escape, not letting you find the will to walk without your bones threatening to crack. You could barely speak for fear fire would thrust itself up from your lungs and incinerate your throat. It was all-consuming, swallowing your body whole instead of localizing where the skin of your back had shredded open.

“Just a few more days,” August said, and you flinched at his voice. Every time he spoke it was a shock he was still there beside you, with his massive, black wings hanging over the back of the chair he sat in. Those monstrosities weren’t attached to his muscled back when you met him; nowhere in sight when he was in your bed.

August dabbed at your broken and bleeding skin with a cool cloth, eliciting little whimpers passed your chapped lips. “I know it hurts, Angel.”

“Don’t—" You forced out despite the heat in your throat, acid on your tongue, waves of nausea you knew would follow. “…C-Call me that.”

He sighed and continued to wipe the blood from your naked body. “I wish you wouldn’t say that. When the time is up, you’ll feel so much better about this, about me, and you’ll see how beautiful they are. You’re already so gorgeous, the wings will only add to your beauty.”

“I di-didn’t want--

“Don’t talk, Angel,” he said. “I know how you’re feeling about this right now, but humans are not allowed to live in this world. I had to do this so you can stay.”

You screamed as the wings tore your skin open a few more centimeters, and August quickly scooted his chair closer to brush the hair from your face.

He softly shushed you the way one might soothe a kitten, before leaning down and placing a kiss to your sweaty forehead. “It’s ok. I’m not going to leave your side.”

You would have slapped at him, pushed him away with all your might if you had the strength, but your lungs were tightening, body burning as if it had been licked by the sun. You were dying, slowly morphing into a horrid creature from fantasies, leaving behind any trace of humanity. In your veins you could feel something coursing and altering your DNA. You knew you still looked like you, for the most part, but you weren’t you, not anymore. All because you met a man who got attached and wouldn’t let you go. All because he couldn’t remain in your world and decided with certainty that if he couldn’t be in yours, he would drag you to his. A place some believed in and some didn’t, a place no one could prove the existence of, now your iron cage.

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

It was five more nights of torture before you felt like you could really breathe again, and even then, the oxygen was just as foreign as the pain you had trudged through, and you found little comfort in it fully filling your lungs.

“You’re awake.”

His smooth voice drew your eyes away from the scenery out the bedroom window; the first glimpse of true, heavenly beauty you’d seen since he brought you here. But you weren’t convinced it wasn’t an illusion crafted by his devilish fingers for your comfort. Much like his own beauty, a trick tempting you to call off your desire to leave this world and go home. You tried your best to ignore how perfect he looked; the curls of his hair, the scruff of his jaw, the black wings you first saw the night you met him when they had suddenly appeared only after you’d slept together.

“And you’re standing already. I hoped to come help you, but you’re clearly much stronger than I was after I had to grow my own wings.”

Your eyes flashed in anger before your tore them away from his, back to the rolling hills overlapping one another outside your window. The breeze rustling your hair, the chirp of the birds, the glisten of the sun off the small lake dotted in the landscape, distracted you from August’s approach. You stilled at his breath hitting the back of your neck, but when he slipped his rough fingers through the layers of your shimmering feathers you couldn’t contain the shiver that shot through your body. His own black ones ruffled when his skin touched his creation.

“So beautiful,” he whispered.

“I’m glad you’re proud of your work.”

August let out a puff of air, a weak laugh. “My work? Angel, this was all you. I knew they would be beautiful if they were going to be a part of you, but you really outdid yourself.”

Twisting your body fast, you met him chest to chest, your eyes burning with a heat to match the devil. “I outdid myself? You forced this on me. You injected me with that—that poison without my permission.”

“And you survived. Not many can say the same. You’ve come out stronger.” Fingers trailed through your feathers again and you ignored the heat it sent to your core.

“I’ve come out of this wanting to kill you more than I did before,” You said, shifting the wing back and away from his reach.

Without a moment to pass, August gently grasped your chin between his thumb and index finger as his gaze landed on your lips. “That will fade with time,” he whispered, then inched his face closer. You shoved him away just before his lips could meet yours, and August stumbled back with a chuckle. “Certainly stronger.”

“I’m not going to let you kiss me,” you snapped.

“Not today, it would seem.”

“Not ever again!” Somehow the words felt wrong, each one more sour than the last. Wrong, as if your lips called to his and a portion of your mind was so disappointed at the fight you were going to force it through by trying to keep yourself away from him. But it was a small portion, and the rest of you was much stronger.

“We will see, Angel,” He crossed his arms. “You and I have eternity. One day you will wake up and realize I am all you have, I am all you want, and this memory will be lost. All you will know is me and my touch and our world.”

As he spoke, his eyes held a gentle sincerity that you wished wasn’t there. You wished the blue of them wasn’t so calm and casual and certain of the way he was feeling. Shaking your head, you matched his stance. “You’re a monster,” you said. “You really are, and here I thought I’d seen the worst of monsters, but clearly not.”

August slowly stepped back into your space again, catching you off guard with a flush to your cheeks as he loomed over you. But you kept his stare, even with your back against the wall, wings spread against the stone. “You may breathe your sweet words all you’d like, Angel, but it changes nothing,” He said, running a knuckle down your cheek. “If I am a monster, I am your monster, and I’m not going anywhere.” Smiling, his eyes glanced at your lips again. “Luckily for me…neither are you.”

Tags:

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[iamnotawomanimagod]

If I Can’t Have Love, I Want Power - A Reluctant Ranking of Every Track

Disclaimer: This entire album is incredible, truly no skips, and I also think it’s an album that is hard to separate into individual tracks, because it all goes so well together. But I still wanted to try! This is just my personal opinion, and it’s subject to change. (Also I surprised myself. And I bet I’ll change my mind by tonight.)

Please feel free to do your own and tag me in it!! I wanna see!!

13. Girl is a Gun

It’s not that I dislike this song, it’s just a sound that I didn’t expect on this album. I think it would’ve fit in better on Manic. I don’t love how it kind of just repeats over and over again, especially on an album so full of complex, intricate lyrics. But it’s a really upbeat, sexy song and I bet it’s going to be so fun live.

Favorite lyric: 

Time is a blessin', to me, it's a lesson And I can't be stressin' to give you attention 'Cause, oh, it's never enough, so I'm givin' you up And you'll be better with a nice girl, darlin'

12. Lilith

Similar to “Girl is a Gun,” I simply wasn’t expecting this kind of sound on this album - could’ve seen it on Hopeless Fountain Kingdom though! The bass is amazing and I love the rhythm.

Favorite lyric:

You know I get too caught up in a moment I can't call it love if I show it I just fuck things up, if you noticed Have you noticed? Tell me have you noticed?

11. Darling

This song is so sweet and charming, especially if you compare it to “More,” which I think it acts as a sort of sequel to. Something about the melody hits me just a little wrong. When they start singing, I can’t help but hear the verses of “Hopeless.” That might’ve been intentional, but I can’t get past it to hear this song as its own thing.

Favorite lyric:

Never knew the feeling of a stable home Been a couple years of living on the road Couldn't really tell you where they'd leave a stone To visit me when I am dead and gone

10. The Tradition

I love the haunting piano and vocals. It feels like a song that was written for the film specifically. (Was it even in the film, lol?) I really love the sound of it, but the lyrics don’t do very much for me.

Favorite lyric:

And I hope what's left will last all summer long And they said that, "Boys were boys", but they were wrong

9. The Lighthouse

This song reminds me the most of a Nine Inch Nails song - fitting that Trent Reznor provides backing vocals on the final verse. I love the grimy guitars, and and discordant beat, and the way it builds up. The melody is cool and liquid. The final verse really feels like waves crashing. It’s a well-written song that really shows off Halsey’s alternative side.

Favorite lyric:

Well, that should teach a man to mess with me He was never seen again And I'm still wandering the beach And I'm glad I met the devil 'Cause he showed me I was weak And a little piece of him is in a little piece of me

8.  Ya’aburnee

This song makes me really emotional. It makes me think of all the people I love the most and it makes me want to cherish my time with them even more. That’s an incredible feeling for an artist to create. It’s such a bittersweet song. I wanna cry but it also makes me smile.

Favorite lyric:

But what's worse? Telling you my feelings or to die without revealing That you crawled inside my head and set a fire there, instead Letting all my insecurity Devour me with certainty

7. honey

If you’ve ever felt this way for someone, this song stings in the best way possible. I love the rhythm and the drums and the guitars - this is peak pop punk and Halsey fits right in. I love the honey imagery, especially that she included some imagery about bees and the way honey clings.

Favorite lyric:

And now she's impatient and I'm complacent With just a little taste of wasting time Looking for honey But she stings like she means it She's mean and she's mine

6. 1121

Now this is the sound I expected from this album. Cinematic, dark, dramatic. The piano is so haunting and so beautiful. It evokes so much imagery through sound alone, even with the lyrics being relatively simple. And their voice is so incredible. The song overall reminds me a lot of Evanescence, which is high praise. And I really appreciate the “self-loathing in love” theme, I can relate to it a lot. I’ve already been singing the chorus at the top of my lungs whenever I play this song.

Favorite lyric:

Take one in the temple My tongue is a vessel I try to be careful with The thing inside my chest You shoot for the memory So you can forget me I'd leave if you let me, oh

5. Bells in Santa Fe

Ever since we heard a snippet of this song in the first film trailer, I’ve been desperate to hear the rest of it. It didn’t disappoint. I love her lower register vocals, the tinkling piano and the frantic rhythm. And I relate too much to the message of the song - loving someone so much but refusing to accept that they want forever with you, insisting that they’re better off without you, warning them that you could slip away at any moment. It hits me where I live.

Favorite lyric:

Jesus needed a three day weekend To sort out all his bullshit, figure out the treason I've been searching for a fortified defense Four to five reasons But, Jesus, you've got better lips than Judas I could keep your bed warm, otherwise I'm useless I don't really mean it, 'cause who the fuck would choose this?

4. I am not a woman, I’m a god

This song fucks. Claiming their power to create life - recognizing that as godly and divine, while also insisting this is not a power that makes them a woman. I can’t wait for it to become a smash hit and for people to be singing about a nonbinary/trans experience without even knowing it. I honestly have trouble even articulating why this song is so awesome, it just is. I’m pumped every time I hear it.

Favorite lyric:

Oh, I just wanna feel something, tell me where to go 'Cause everybody knows something I don't wanna know So I'll stay right here cause I'm better all alone Yeah, I'm better all alone

3. You asked for this

I really like the 90s alternative sound of this one, it reminds me of Alanis Morrissette and certain No Doubt songs. I think it’s a very realistic depiction of how settling down in life can be very bittersweet, and the things that we ask for are sometimes not what they seem to be. But we also come to realize that settling is a part of growing up. Still, Halsey sings about wanting everything, knowing there are contradictions in that. The chorus is fun and easy to sing to, and the final verse is so amazing.

Favorite lyric:

I want a beautiful boy's despondent laughter I want to ruin all my plans I want a fist around my throat I want to cry so hard I choke I want everything I asked for

2. Whispers

This one hits hard, but god, it’s so good. The way they whisper certain phrases. The simple piano under the first verse, the way it becomes more complex, the way the beat comes in. You want to dance and cry at the same time. The lyrics - I know so many of us can relate to them. The themes of self-sabotage and self-loathing are so strong in this album, which definitely hits me right in the chest.

Favorite lyric:

I've got a monster inside me That eats personality types She is constantly changing her mind on the daily Think that she hates me I'm feeling it lately Might have to trick her and treat her To 70 capsules or fly to a castle So at least we could say that we died being traveled

1. Easier than Lying

I’ve had this one on repeat since the album came out, and that surprised me at first, but god, this song is addictive. The crunchy guitar at the beginning, the driving rhythm, the way her voice contrasts with that. The scream-singing on the chorus. It’s the kind of song you want to drive way too fast to. The bridge!! Aaah! It’s just so badass and listening to it now gets me too hyped!! Also the way it can kind of be seen as a sequel to “Lie,” - the growth of going “if you don’t love me no more, then lie” to “losing you is easier than lying to myself” is so meaningful and so empowering.

My heart is massive but it's empty A permanent part of me, that innocent artery Is gasping for some real attention Some undivided hypertension I tell it "quiet down, you're being loud" But it beats harder every time you come around But do you love the sound?

I’m gonna tag some mutuals, just to share, and also to see if anyone else wants to do this! Also you don’t need to go as in-depth as I did if that’s intimidating or too much, I’m just wordy.

@demonzplay @easiersthanlying @ttpane @yoursalwaysleo @anarkyandmadness @feelingsiwontforget @tolerateit @tommyhardyx @elysiems @imacreepygirl @finallybeautifulstranger @inthenameofloveforthesakeofpower and I know I’m forgetting some folks, I’m sorry! Please feel free to steal this and also tag me in yours!