#it's the tragedy and transformation for me

[marsreds]

yeah, no, the more i think about it, the more i realize that i'm actually really upset about the whole "your imperfections make you beautiful" speech.

like. this is how we meet Viktor:

this is not a character who has a problem with his "imperfections". look at his body language, look at the hand in the pocket. he oozes self-confidence. a man who saw the hand the universe* gave him and decided to make it a winning one, everything else be damned. hell, he says as much:

(sidenote, insane foreshadowing (heh) with having Viktor always be positioned in the background and/or in the shadow of the shot)

this is not a character that is ashamed of himself, his body.

the whole framing of Viktor's choices in season one is that he doesn't want to die. he wants to keep going, he wants to leave a legacy behind, he wants more time and yes, part of it is because he's arrogant, because he thinks no one can do what he can, and part of that arrogance is simply confirmation bias because, indeed, so far no one but him has been able to do what he (and Jayce) did.

and that's what makes it work!! "i don't want to die, i want to keep going, i'm good and moral and useful** and i deserve to live!!"

it works in the context of Viktor's transformation—in the pursuit of freeing myself from the weakness of the flesh i come to the conclusion that true weakness is in our (emotional, irrational) attachment to life—and it works in the context of the narrative being woven—tragedy is tragedy because it's completely avoidable if only it weren't inevitable—and it works in the context of how it fits with other characters—Jayce, Man of Tomorrow, Modernist Ideal™ breaking every single promise and crossing every single line in order to do what Viktor has been trying to do the whole season and then turned away from because, unlike Jayce's, Viktor's moral's aren't relative—

to take all of that! all of that!!! and turn it into a "cindy, you're beautiful even with your glasses on." feelgood romcom moment is just... it just feels bad. it feels bad.

*i genuinely think that his leg/spine deformity has nothing to do with Piltover. sometimes you just get fucked by the forces that be. (the disease is another matter.)

**the idea of "usefulness to society" as a metric of who "deserves" to live that s1 had in the background making me chew at the bars of my cage

[edwinspaynes]

The mark was maroon, the burgundy of old, dried blood. It had five sharp points, five flames at every edge. The jagged S-shape in its center was as sharp as its edges. The symbol of something sat inside a perfect circle the size of Charles’ palm, encompassing that star-shaped marking seared into Edwin’s back. Edwin had never mentioned it, not in over thirty-five years of idle conversation or between sentences of books read aloud into the comforting space between them. And he still did not mention it in these past months as their relationship shifted, the months when breaths between passionately-pressed kisses and sweet nothings joined those decades of whispered words. Charles thought he didn’t want to mention it, that mark on his shoulder blade. Which was fine by him, wasn’t it, since Edwin didn’t need to talk about anything he didn’t want to. - Or, the one where Edwin finds out after thirty-six years that Hell quite literally left its mark on him.

Taglist under the cut (let me know if you want to be added/removed)

@tiredandoptimistic @thevagabondexpress @stormkitty97 @innocentmapleleaf

@honorarypines @tragedy-machine @pisces-swirlix @authoricdemon

@many-gay-magpies @edwardianedwin @babyseraphim @stephen0118

@ingridmatthews @smolsmule @sasakisniko @emi-the-gremlin

@give-me-a-minute-to-think @wetfloor-sign09 @saltyoaktree @skugganispegeln

@nowjumpinthewater @tipsyscone @justalunaticfangirl @shitpost-factory @bluebell53

@queerpeoplepleaser @alittlebitofloveliness @randomwholocker @shamelesslymkp

@outispoutis @lokili-spocklock @mrnightingale @old-news-dear-do-keep-up

[bitchfitch]

Once upon a time their forest home suffered an endless night. Their great dragon god was punishing them for the theft of something precious to him. No lavish festival nor offering of rich drink or hearty food would water his fury.

The fauns of then thought their home would be lost to his darkness forever, only for one of their to offer himself as tribute.

Tahir, a young shrine attendant, walked into the forest beyond their home to meet the dragon at the entrance of his den. He said to the dragon "If my people's gold and my temple's joy is not enough to sate you, then may my flesh be your cure. My people repent for the crime done to you, but they know not how to repay it. Punish me, kill me, in their stead."

He bowed his head and waited for death. No sweat on his brow nor did his heart race, for Tahir was kind and loved nothing more than his people and the god they worshipped. His death would be just. His life given more purpose than any could have dreamt of for themselves.

The dragon looked at the selfless young man who's beauty and love and kindness were without compare, and he said "I will have you, not as a feast, but as my only equal." for he had fallen deeply in love at the first sight of the man and wanted not his death, but his hand in eternal marriage.

The dragon gave the sun to Tahir, as he was the brightest and warmest source of joy in their forest. It was only right that he be who decided when it should shine. It was a power Tahir never once misused for he loved his people and wanted nothing more than to see them thrive.

The two ruled together for a time, the common man that was Tahir was transformed by the people's worship of him. His kindness grew, his blessings brought love and joy and bountiful families. His husband's adoration of him turned the once ferocious and fickle dragon into an equally doting and benevolent god. Their forest was warm with their love, the trees heavy with fruit made sweet by their joy, the frigid desert beyond their home kept distant by their devotion to each other and to their people.

Though tragedy loomed as such peace could not last when mortal hands carried out deeds best left to the gods.

The prize stolen from the great dragon's hoard was a sword forged by his own kin. It's blade made to slice deep through draconic flesh. It's purpose was always to be his death when he grew tired of the immortality he was born into. A gift to him from peers who had long chosen their own blades over another day.

The priests, the foolish, idiot, priests of yore had stolen the blade with intent to make their god a thing of the past. The dragon was temperamental and cruel when Tahir could not calm his raging storms. How long until their kind, golden god would be victim to the beast? Tahir who loved them all without question would protect them as their king better than he ever could as their dragon god's mate.

They believed in their heart of hearts, that to save themselves, they must liberate their sun from the dragon's clutches.

One struck out from their village on the first evening of truest winter, through their home and to the great dragon's den. At its center the priest found him slumbering in his bed.

Their sun, Tahir, at his side. He begged for his husband's life but the priest was deaf to his pleads. Tahir didn't know what was best for them all, the priest thought as he lunged.

The blade cut deep into softest flesh. Tahir, kind and beautiful, had put himself between the priest and his love. His pained sob was what finally woke the beast from its truest winter sleep.

The priest escaped as the dragon chose to remain by his dying lovers side to the very end. For the dragon never cared about the fauns or their priests, only for their worship, and only then until he had found warmth so much deeper in the embrace of selfless, kind Tahir.

It is said that with Tahir's dying breaths he made his love promise him that he would not snuff the sun again.

Their people so beloved by him were foolish, but they did not deserve such punishment. He was always the one meant to suffer for them, not the one they were to suffer for.

The dragon agreed, and held kind Tahir until his warmth was gone from the forest he had adored so deeply.

Tahir's sun, the one that sat near and gave their home joyful warmth even when the distant sun set behind the horizon for months at a time, dimmed and shone as it always had under his care. The dragon, fickle as he was, would never betray a promise made to his husband.

Though, the fauns of the forest never saw it's glow again. The storms brewed with Tahir's dying breaths. The dragon cloaked his sun in thick storm clouds to selfishly hide it's light. He would not snuff it, but his sun, Tahir, had been taken from him, and he would not let another know the sun's warmth until his own was returned.

The storms had raged across the whole forest ever since.

Tahir knew the legend well. It was his story after all.

The thick mud sucked his aching legs down with every step, the heavy rain beat against his back, the winds tangled his loose and wild hair about his wedding dress's skirts. The ice of the storm was beat out by his burning fury.

The Distant Sun would soon rise for the first time in months. It's meager light wouldn't cut through the storm or the twisted boughs of the trees, but it's return was chosen to be the symbol of his union to the monster at the heart of this forest.

Tahir was dead. He had been for so long that not a single soul remembered what the Near Sun felt like.

Tahir was new and alive. A supposed reincarnation meant to be given as offering and apology to the Great Dragon.

He marched onward, the sword that killed the Sun gripped in his hands. It's heavy blade dragged in the soil. His shoulders burned from the effort of pulling it's massive weight.

The dragon had slayed each and every one of the brides sent to replace his Sun. Their bodies desecrated by his carnivorous teeth before their remains were dropped at the feet of Tahir's shrine. The blood still stained the grout when Tahir of the Rising Sun was raised into being their god.

He remembered asking the priests about the stains when he was just a boy. They said they were a sign of his husband's love for him. That the other brides were given to him as offerings so their blood may make him strong for his duty at his husband's side.

The clearing around the dragons den yawned before him, the eye of the storm a thick splotch of suffocated light as the concealed sun struggled to shine through the whirlpool clouds.

He would not be another rejected bride.

"Daeodon!" he called his husband's true name. He'd been hip height when the word was whispered into his ear for the first time. His hair had been braided with flowers, the barely there nubs of his horns painted, his robes decorated in so many beads he had trouble standing under their weight, before he was left in the dragon's shrine alone for a week of isolated prayer.

He called the name again, his mouth still open to demand the beast face him when the storm above ruptured.

The earth shook with the thunder of the great dragon god's landing. His mighty wings blotted the hidden sun's meager light. his tusks and horns glowed with lightning, his very breath fogged the rain saturated air with light.

His eyes, pinpricks of silver against the thick black hide of his mighty countenance, landed on Tahir and the storm froze. It's howling winds stilling like they're been caught by their necks. The constant rumble of rain went silent.

"Tahir -" His voice sounded like a bass drum. It was felt more than heard. His head lowered, his wings folded, he took a step forward and on his animal face there was hope. "My Sunlight -"

Tahir had had his everyday decided for him from the moment he was born. His every second accounted for so that he may perfectly fill a dead man's place in a monster's bed. He had never known hope.

He swung the blade. The beast recoiled as a gash of dripping crimson cracked the side of his face.

"Speak that name again!" Tahir demanded, his throat already raw from screaming "See if your prayers are what will make him stop his rotting!"

He had never so much as twirled a staff, but his rage proved to be equal to any amount strength built through action. Again the sword cut the air between them. Again the idiot beast recoiled instead of ran. Those animal eyes filled with shock as though he had never once thought the man who preyed his hatred of him every morning would dare raise a weapon instead of just accepting his death.

The blade was heavier than anything he had ever been allowed to attempt to carry. It's tip failed to raise when Tahir tried once more to cut through the monsters neck. His every muscle burned. The weight of it pulled him to his knees in the disgusting mud.

Daeodon stepped to pin the sword that would be his death into the soil. His thick hoof bleeding where it cut into him as he leaned to close the space between them. His marred snout twisted in a snarl.

"What kind of beast are you?" he growled before finally charging.

The breath was beat from Tahir's chest, Daeodon's thick nose colliding with his ribs as the monster ripped him from the earth with nothing but the strength of his stout neck. His tusks pressed into Tahir's sides, panic made him scramble to dig his dulled nails into the wounds across Daeodon's face only for his efforts to be ignored like a fly on an elephants back in the seconds it took for Daeodon to pick a tree to charge.

Tahir had never felt the thorns of the plants that grew within the gardens dedicated to him. He felt the agony of his back colliding with the trunk of an ancient tree. It shocked through him. His every bone shook in its place as his ribs threatened to crack under the impact. His abdomen screamed with what would be dark bruising. His life saved from being crushed out of him only by merit of the monster's tusks becoming ensnared in the twisting wood. Daeodon thrashed to get free, his teeth grinding deep against the soft of Tahir's gut.

"Your tears will not work- What Are you!?" He demanded. He kicked at the tree, uncaring if he caught one of Tahir's legs beneath his hooves. "How Dare you use his face- How dare you cry with his voice."

Finally he ripped free, leaving Tahir to collapse once more. He couldn't breathe through his sobbing. He had wanted to die valorous, but he hadn't wanted this agony to accompany it. He could barely stand laying in the mud, his every inch ached like his bones would be ripping through his skin if he dared to look.

"Stop!" Daeodon demanded his hoof coming down close enough to Tahir's head for it to catch and yank in his hair.

He didn't mean to scream, he didn't know what else to do when all that came was more and more pain.

"I said Stop. Stop. Whatever prize you came her for you may have it just stop-" he tried to nose at Tahir's side, an animal attempt at defusing a situation neither of them were equipped to handle, only to react to Tahir flinching away from him in fear like it was another sword swing. "Please stop. I can't stand that sound. Cry with anyone else's voice. Please."

"I only have the one voice!" Tahir screamed at him, his fading strength being put into shoving away from the beast.

"It's not your voice-" he was shut up by a weak kick at his jaw, as though it had had a fraction of the force behind it that Daeodon had used to bodily throw him. "Please, just stop-"

He nuzzled Tahir's side where the bruising was already darkest. The press was agony, Tahir grabbed him by his tusks as he attempted escape only for one of those mighty hooves to come to pin his legs.

"Hold still, just hold still, please let me heal you. You know I can't stand the sound of your crying." Daeodon's might wavered in his tone, like he too was on the verge of collapse from their one sided battle.

"Just fucking kill me-"

"No. No. Tahir, never. Please just be quiet." he groveled like he didn't know who he was talking to anymore. "Please it will be all alright. You will be ok. Please just stop crying.

Tahir's response was lost to the bright shock that erupted through his chest. His battle for consciousness being lost along side it.

[creepercraftguy]

NAEGIRI WEEK 2024: Day 1 - DISCOVERY

Makoto Naegi is the unlikely headmaster of a rebuilt Hope's Peak Academy, navigating its haunting past and uncovering hidden secrets alongside Kyoko Kirigiri, who confronts the emotional and physical scars left by their shared tragedies.

@naegiriweek

Full Story below the cut. You can also find the story on my WattPad and AO3.

In case it wasn't already obvious, Makoto Naegi was not your typical high school headmaster.

Several months after the Final Killing Game, Makoto and the Future Foundation decided to rebuild Hope's Peak Academy, with him becoming the principal and working alongside Kyoko. This was a decision that many had found...questionable...Especially considering almost every bad thing that had happened to Makoto, and by extension, the entire world, all originated from this prestigious, but ultimate twisted academy.

Any other person would have been more than happy to scrap the building, abolish the Ultimate system entirely, and maybe even build an entirely new academy to teach the next generation of youths, but Makoto's idea of Hope was much stronger than the average person. The symbolism of turning a school that had fallen into despair, and transforming it into a beacon of Hope once again was just too powerful to pass up, and thus the Future Foundation agreed to give Makoto this one opportunity.

But there were more reasons than just that. Hope's Peak still hid many secrets within its walls. Secrets that could potentially be exploited for evil. Makoto knew that if anyone was going to find these secrets, he was the best person for the job. And who better to help him uncover these secrets than Kyoko, who was well acquainted with the school herself?

With that being said, progress on the investigation was slow, and Makoto mostly handled it himself due to Kyoko's condition. She had almost died due to the NG poisoning during the killing game, but miraculously, she left the building alive, having been recovered by Mikan from a near-death state. However, the poisoning had still destroyed a large portion of her body inside, leaving her arms and hands horribly scarred. The doctors were able to fix the damage, but unfortunately, the burns were so severe that Kyoko had lost nearly all vision in her left eye, and needed a walking stick to help move around.

Makoto knew she would never be able to live a normal life, but he was glad she was able to survive. Even though it had been a month since the incident, she was still getting used to her new disabilities. Makoto offered to have the Future Foundation provide her with the best possible prosthetic arms and legs, but Kyoko refused, saying she wanted to overcome her struggles using her own strength.

Unsurprisingly.

Still, today was a bit different, as out of the blue, Makoto had asked Kyoko to come and visit him at the school. He hadn't been clear on the reasons why, just that it was important and involved her. Kyoko had agreed, and now the two were standing in the middle of the classroom together, looking around as Makoto spoke.

"So you're probably wondering why I asked you to come here?" he said.

His voice was almost teasing, as if he was enjoying being the one in the know while Kyoko didn't; a rare switch in their usual standing that he was very happy to take advantage of.

"You wanted to show me something," Kyoko answered, her eyes narrowing as she scanned the room, "That's the only reason I can think of for why you would invite me here."

"Correct," Makoto nodded, "so...you know how we've been looking around the school, and we keep finding these hidden rooms that each serve a different kind of purpose?"

"Yes," Kyoko nodded, "are you saying you found another one?"

"I am. But there's a reason why I called you here instead of anyone else who could help me check it out. I know you're supposed to be resting, but it felt right to invite you over. It was a bit hard getting you to come here without spoiling the surprise, though."

"That was an annoying effort, I'll admit," Kyoko smiled, "but you did a good job."

"Thanks," Makoto smiled, "So...you ready to see it?"

"Lead the way," Kyoko replied, gesturing forward.

Makoto gave a single nod, then proceeded to walk over to the wall where the hidden room was. With a quick tug on the right books, the door to the secret area opened up. The room was small, only big enough to fit one or two people inside, but it was still impressive. The walls were lined with monitors and a few keyboards, all of which were powered by an electrical box that was sitting in the corner of the room.

Kyoko also saw a few shelves with dusty paper files on them. At a glance, it was clear which one's Makoto had already read and which one's he had left be.

"What's all this then?" she asked.

"Well, I was hoping I could your opinion on that," Makoto told her, "but from what I can tell, this room was supposed to be some kind of secret study. A place where someone could hide and work on stuff away from everyone else."

"A spy room?"

"Possibly, or just a place to think."

"Junko's?"

"That's what I thought at first, but...Well, when I was looking around, I found a bunch of these files on the shelf," Makoto explained, "past investigations, secrets about the school, and even a few hidden journal entries that somebody left behind. All of them are signed with the same name..."

"Who's?" Kyoko tilted her head. Makoto swallowed, as if he was hesitating telling her, but did so anyway.

"The previous headmaster, who died prior to our Killing Game," Makoto told her, "Jin Kirigiri. I think this was his secret study."

Kyoko's eyes widened.

"My...father's?" she asked.

"I know how crazy it sounds," Makoto replied, "but this place has the same vibe that his office did, and the writing style in these documents matches up with what we knew about him. Plus, I can't think of a reason why anyone else would be hiding this place, not even Junko."

Kyoko felt a little bit of emotion rise up inside her, but quickly stomped it back down, keeping her expression calm.

In the eyes of many, and in the heart of Kyoko herself, she and Jin Kirigiri were related by blood, but nothing more. For most of her life, she believed that Jin left her when she was a little girl and that he used her mother's death as an excuse so that he could leave the house, never knowing him as a father because they never really spoke to each other much during their days together.

It was Kyoko's disturbingly twisted grandfather, Fuhito Kirigiri, a man she had spent her whole life looking up to before she found the truth of who he really was, who encouraged her to hate her father. In reality Jin left the family because Fuhito showed no care when Jin's wife died.

When Kyoko found out that her father died in the school at the hands of Junko and Mukuro, and found his skeleton, she didn't show any feelings towards his death. But Makoto, who was looking at the remains of her father instead, noticed that she didn't even look in the box.

Makoto somehow knew that somewhere in her heart she must have thought she was wrong and guilty about her father's death. But she never showed it. Not even now.

"That is certainly interesting," she commented, "I wonder why he didn't tell me about it, if this is his secret study."

"I don't know," Makoto said, "maybe he was just hiding it in case anyone tried to snoop around and found his investigation papers? I mean, it's not like you would have remembered it was here after Junko wiped our memories, so maybe he did tell you and you just don't remember?"

"Fair point..." Kyoko nodded, "So what's in here that you think is so important?"

"I think it'd be easier if you saw for yourself..." Makoto gestured towards some of the shelves, "just...be careful. The dust is thick in here."

Kyoko was honestly hesitant. Yes, as it turned out, Jin Kirigiri wasn't the poor, selfish man that Kyoko thought he was, but at the same time, she'd been avoiding places associated with him since their escape from the school. She didn't want to think about him, or about her past in general, because she didn't want to stir any painful feelings inside of her.

But still, Makoto had been nothing but kind to her, and he had taken time out of his day to find this secret study. He had even invited her specifically, despite knowing how she felt. Kyoko would have been lying if she said she wasn't at least a little curious, so with a deep breath, she walked over to the shelf, grabbed one of the folders, and flipped it open.

Makoto, for his part, lingered in the doorway, letting her read alone, but waiting nearby enough so that he could offer his support if she needed it.

"Is this..." she whispered, her voice trailing off as she began to read.

"Yeah," Makoto said, his own tone low, "it is."

On the inside of the folder, Kyoko saw a picture, a list, and some handwritten notes. The photo was of a young girl, around 10 years old...Unmistakably herself as a child.

Her style was a bit softer and less hardened than her current self, though still notably professional and reserved. She had long, silver-purple hair tied in a neat, straight ponytail, with her bangs framing her face and covering part of her forehead.

Kyoko wondered how her father got this picture of her. After all, this had been taken long after they'd been separated, so where did it come from?

"There's a letter," Makoto mentioned, "you can read it if you want, but I've already done that."

Kyoko knew that even though he said she could read it if she wanted, his tone suggested that he really wanted her to read it now. Maybe not out loud, but still while she had it so she wouldn't forego the chance to read it later.

She sighed and found the letter he was talking about, and her eyes began moving along the page, silently reading her father's words:

Dear Kyoko,

I hope this letter finds you, though I can only imagine what state you might be in, should it reach you at all. And I hope, despite everything, you will still find it in your heart to read it.

The world seems to have fractured at its seams, spiraling into something darker with each passing day. This tragedy...it is beyond anything I could have predicted, even in my worst fears. I can only wonder how you and your classmates are managing in the middle of it all. I do not know what kind of future is left for you, or for any of the young souls burdened by the chaos we failed to prevent.

I can only apologize, though I know it will never be enough. For not being there when you needed me, for all the unanswered questions I left you with. Believe me, leaving you was not a choice I made lightly. I told myself that my distance would protect you, that it was the only way to keep you safe from a fate darker than loneliness.

Seeing what you have become...an accomplished, highly intellectual detective, I believe that my father's teachings served you well, even if I disagreed with the notion myself. Yet now, I can't help but regret it. I can't help but wish that I had been stronger, had found another way. One that did not mean leaving you on your own.

But even in my absence, Kyoko, I have always cared. You must know that. I followed your progress from afar, watched you grow into someone more resilient and brilliant than I could ever have imagined. I see in you the strength I had hoped for, though I had no right to ask it of you.

Hold fast to that strength. The world may be coming undone, but I have faith that if anyone can navigate it, it is you. I say this not as your headmaster, but as your father, and whether you accept as much is not for me to force upon you.

With all my love and my deepest regrets,

-Jin.

Kyoko could feel her hand beginning to tremble as she reached the end of the letter, and she quickly placed the folder back down on the shelf. She took a deep breath, then turned back to face Makoto, who had patiently waited for her.

"It's a shame," she commented.

"What is?" Makoto asked, a little confused.

"This room," Kyoko explained, "all this space, and for what? To keep secrets, and hide things away. Such a waste..."

Makoto knew exactly what was going on, though. He knew her too well not to.

"We'll get the chance to make better use of it," he reassured her, "once everything's settled, I'll have a room cleared out. You can store all the important evidence you need in here, and nobody will be able to get to it. You can make it your own personal study, and we'll call it the Kyoko Kirigiri room!"

He flashed her a bright smile, hoping to cheer her up.

Kyoko stared at him blankly, but there was a twitch in her mouth, as if she wanted to smile back.

"We can discuss that later," she said, turning back to the shelf, "for now, I should check over the files and make sure we're not missing anything."

"Sure thing," Makoto agreed, "but...Kyoko?"

"Yes?"

"You know you don't have to be like this ALL the time, right?"

"Excuse me?"

Makoto sighed.

"I know you've been like this for as long as you can remember. You keep your emotions in check so that the people around you can't take advantage of them. It's the best defense mechanism you've got. But, the world's different now. We're rebuilding it. We've overcome the worst of our despair," he asserted, "You're among friends. I know this is gonna sound cheesy, but you're safe. There's no reason for you to have to keep putting on a mask all the time, not when we're here for you. You don't have to be so cool, calm and collected 24/7. If you want to cry, then cry."

Kyoko shook her head.

"I don't want to cry," she made this clear, "but...you're right in that I feel...emotional...about this..."

"There's...actually another thing in that file that you might want to see," Makoto mentioned, "it's a photo. I'm not sure who of, but I can take a guess."

Kyoko turned back to the files, and found the photo.

It was of her father, and another woman sitting next to him, back when he was much younger. She was sitting on Jin's lap, her head resting against his chest. A wide, contented smile was spread across her face, and Jin was grinning down at her, his arm wrapped protectively

She looked a lot like Kyoko. She shared her composed demeanor and elegant appearance, with some physical similarities. She had a refined, calm aura, and her hair was a muted shade, worn in a practical yet stylish way, possibly in a short, neat cut or a simple, low bun.

"I was thinking that might be your mother," Makoto mentioned.

"I agree," Kyoko nodded, and surprisingly, a smile broke across her face, "so that's what she looked like?"

"You didn't know?" Makoto asked.

"I never met her truly," Kyoko said, "she passed away when I was too young to remember her. I'm sure I'd have some semblance if I was allowed to visit her, but my grandfather forbade me. He wanted to prioritize my detective work."

Makoto clicked his tongue. Even though he knew that he had been an iconic figure in Kyoko's life, he couldn't hide his disdain.

"I know this isn't my place to say. I can't speak for either of you, after all," he said, "but Kyoko...Jin really did love you as his daughter. I'm certain of that now. Whether you agree or not is a matter for you, but you can't deny the proof."

Kyoko nodded.

"You're right," she said, "as far as my father's involvement, there's no denying the facts."

She put the file back on the shelf, then turned and looked at him.

"Thank you, Makoto," she said "For showing me this, I mean. I think you were right to. This isn't the kind of thing you can just ignore, no matter how hard you try. It's something that has to be faced."

"I agree," Makoto smiled back, "so it's no problem, really."

"And, also, I'm sorry. For putting you through this, for making you deal with my issues. You're trying so hard, and I appreciate that," she said, "I'm a bit embarrassed, honestly. I'm supposed to be helping you with your investigations, and instead you're doing all the work and having to worry about me on top of it. You'd think, with all my experience, I'd have a little more self-control..."

"Hey, it's fine," Makoto assured her, "it's okay to lose your composure once in a while. In fact, I like this side of you. Not to say that you're a dishonest person. I just want you to be more honest with yourself, just like you are with us."

"Honest with myself?" she frowned curiously.

"Yeah, when it comes to emotions, anyway," he elaborated, "We're friends, so we don't mind. Just...don't shut yourself out. Don't pretend you're okay when you're not, and don't pretend like you're not hurt when you are."

"I suppose I could work on that..." Kyoko said.

"Yes, you could," he chuckled, "just...if you need to let your emotions out, do it any way you please, and I'll help you with it."

Kyoko paused, considering his words for a moment.

Makoto was completely the polar opposite of her. He wore his heart on his sleeve, and never usually hid how he felt. Even when he tried, he was usually bad at it.

His kindness and compassion for others were evident in his every action, and that was one of the many reasons why everyone who had been affected by the tragedy adored him.

Maybe there was some wisdom in that. After all, Kyoko wasn't sure how much longer she could go on keeping her feelings to herself. And she trusted Makoto with her life. She had every reason to, after all.

"If that's...really how you feel..." she lowered her eyes for a minute, brushing some hair to the side with her hand, "could you...come closer?"

"Sure," Makoto nodded, carefully moving a little closer, "is there something else you need me to look at?"

"Not quite," Kyoko replied, "I was actually thinking that I'd like to return the favor..."

She carefully wrapped her arms around him in a hug. Makoto paused for a moment before he returned the gesture, as Kyoko rested her head on his shoulder.

True to her word, she didn't cry. But she did take a minute to bask in the feeling of having someone so close, a warmth she hadn't experienced in a long time.

"Thank you," she whispered.

Makoto didn't say anything back, but Kyoko didn't miss the small, comforting squeeze he gave her as they stood there, embracing each other in the secret study.

In that moment, Kyoko felt the urge to say something more.

Maybe the world wasn't ready, maybe she wasn't, or maybe it wasn't the right time. But even so, the words bubbled up inside her, and she wanted nothing more than to say them. She lifted her head, and stared into his eyes.

"Can I kiss you?" she asked.

"Sure," Makoto said again, without hesitation, knowing that this had been a long time coming.

The two moved their heads closer, and their lips met, as Kyoko's hand found its way to Makoto's hair. He pulled her closer, deepening the kiss, and she let out a soft sigh.

After a few minutes, the two reluctantly separated, and Makoto gave a small laugh.

"So...did you just kiss me because you were grateful?" he asked, his tone light and teasing, "or was there a little more to it than that?"

"You're smart," Kyoko smirked, "I'm sure you can figure it out."

"Well, maybe you could give me a clue?" he suggested.

Kyoko thought about it, and her answer came quickly.

"It's not something that needs a reason, is it?" she said, "If two people love each other, then there's no reason not to express it. That's my opinion, at least."

Makoto blushed.

"Love?" he said, his tone incredulous, "Is that how you feel?"

"I wouldn't ask otherwise," Kyoko shook her head, "you know me. I'm not the kind of person to ask something like that without meaning it. Unless the idea of your lips on mine is that revolting."

"Don't be stupid," he chuckled, pulling her in for some more.

Time passed, and eventually they broke away. Kyoko left the files where she had found them, took her cane, and they walked out of the study, locking pinkies.

"I'll definitely come back to that room later," she said, "I...think there's more I want to learn about my father."

"Me too," Makoto nodded, "just make sure you let me know next time. I'll come with you."

"You don't have to do that," Kyoko assured him.

"I know, but I want to," Makoto said, "for a few reasons of my own."

"And those are?" she asked, genuinely curious.

"Well, for one," he listed, "I also want to learn more about Jin. And even if I didn't, I want you to know that come hell or high water, I'll be there to support your or lend you an ear if you need it. That you can lean on me if you have to."

"A fair point," she said, "but also, I hope you don't feel like you have to watch over me or worry about me. I am an independent woman, after all. You don't have to treat me like a porcelain doll."

"Oh, I know," he nodded, "it's just that...well, it's nice to have someone watching your back."

"I agree," Kyoko nodded, "sorry for being difficult. Are there any other reasons?"

"Well," he leaned in, his tone and expression surprisingly low and flirtatious for him, nuzzling his cheek against hers, "I don't think anyone else knows about that study yet. So it's nice to know there's a place we can go without getting...interrupted..."

"Psh...You dog...!" she snapped teasingly, planting a kiss on his cheek.

[toaverse]

Dew it @cesarescabinet !

Also, going a bit off script here but remaining on the tragedy…

The writers had the perfect opportunity to have Viktor’s transformation be by force as well. It would’ve at least remained consistent with Vik’s theme of having no agency.

When I listened to “The Line” for the first time and saw those snippets, I teared up a little. I wasn’t ready to watch the whole scene and see Vik becoming the MH in an emotional yet satisfying way, something he can’t come back from.

I imagined Viktor slowly realizing with horror that he's at Singed and Ambessa's mercy, begging Sky to stay with him as she fades away until her hands slip away from his grasp ("stay your pretty eyes on course" / "keep the memories of who I was before" / "So stay with me because my body's on the line now").

Imagine him trying to fight the transformation, but it's all in vain ("I can't fight this time now" / "Show there's nothing left to try"). Viktor screams in pain and grief as he transforms against his will ("Please don't let them see me"), only stopping once his humanity is gone completely ("I can feel the light shine on my face").

Man, would I have loved seeing Viktor's reaction when finding out that the strike-team gassed Zaun with the same poison that caused his terminal-disease...

[subukunojess]

SABA Dreamer AU: Scarlet and Her Younger Days

Time once again for posting at Midnight so I don’t lose my idea or sanity, so here we go. I just thought about my Sackboy Dreamer AU with 4 Players and went down a rabbit hole with some of the unused lines and DLC regarding Scarlet’s time as a Knitted Knight. From the cutscenes and the few fan creations I find online, there’s the fanon headcannon that Scarlet knew and fought Vex when she was younger. I decided to take it a step further. More under the cut:

For my version of Scarlet, she did earn being a Knitted Knight on her own and had her best friend plush knight that brought her luck, but I believe when she got older, she did join a group of other Knitted Knights and formed friendships with them as well. 

Because I like parallels and angst, the three knitted knights that were Scarlet’s close friends parallel Sackboy’s Dreamling friends. 

I do not have ideas yet on two of the knights, but I do have ideas for Faith’s parallel, a sackboy named Pique (He/They). 

Pique starts off as the quiet, kind, and compassionate artistic sackling who also dabbles in scientific experiments. He loves telling stories and singing songs to the sackfolk. 

He is also childhood friends with Scarlet and they would play Knitted Knight games with her plush and his Vex plush. 

One day (like a month or two before Vex is prophesized to come back to Craftworld), Pique gets an idea to break the Vex cycle. He believes that everyone deserves a second chance (even Vex) and that nightmares are essential. He feels sorry for Vex and wants to effectively prove to him that dreams and nightmares could coexist without terrorizing one another. Pique wants to do experiments with Uproar and Dreamer Orbs to see if there’s potential to his plan. 

Scarlet is wary like Pique has good intentions, but she believes it’s more complicated than that. Then again, she also feels a little bad about Vex, so she reluctantly supports her friend. 

Just like most horror/science fiction stories, Pique experiments on himself so that his body and stitching are laced with Uproar. At first, everything is fine. Pique uses Uproar on quests and to save people, becoming a popular knight. 

However, there is a slow corruption/transformation as he progresses. It starts out small like a little outburst or getting an inch taller or a little teasing. But then it evolves into arguments and getting carried away into battle. One time, Scarlet and the other Knitted Knights had to help Pique when he outgrew his home and got stuck.

While this is happening, Vex gets closer to resurfacing and he gets wind of one of the Knitted Knights becoming Vexed which he wants to use it to his advantage.

I read on the wiki that there are lines from the Knitted Knight trials that when Vex was in Loom in the early years, he was trying to steal all the stories. Didn’t find the voice line yet, but that helped me a bit. 

So Vex somehow approaches Pique in his dreams or alone and manipulates them to help him steal the stories of Loom, claiming that the storytellers were hiding something. 

In the middle of the night, Pique transforms into a being like Vex and pulls a Pied Piper with his singing, kidnapping the Storyteller Sacklings. I believe Pique’s vexed form is a dark King Knight motif.

Scarlet and the two Knitted Knights are on the scene. They are surprised about Pique. Vex makes Pique attack their friends. Angst angst angst. The rest is like one epic battle over another and they defeat Vex but while Vex is fading away, he takes Pique down with him and takes out Scarlet’s eye.

Present day, Scarlet feels guilty and has kept Pique’s Vex plush with her own. When she finds out about Faith’s encounter with Vex, she is internally freaking out and tries to keep an eye on the situation while trying not to alarm Sackboy. 

One last thought, but I have the idea that Pique is in the Uproar secretly helping Faith out while basically getting revenge on Vex/redeeming himself from his mistakes. 

And that’s what I have so far. 

[redyarns]

heres my next funky megop idea: you guys know that treasure trove of tragic romantic tropes right? think specifically the "i love you because im human" x "im incapable of love because im not human" thing.

okay now hear me out: optimus is part of the original primes and primus is all like "u all need to scope out new potential primes" and assigns optimus to d-16, a miner. and at first d-16 views optimus as some sort of guardian angel/shoulder god but things change and its the idea of:

"do you even love me?" d-16 asked quite desperately.

"yes," optimus said immediately. he smiled. "of course i do."

d-16 held him closer. he gritted his teeth and held back his tears.

"well," d-16 said bitterly. "at least we now know that primes can lie."

[thekittyokat]

you ever just have a lot, a LOT of feelings all at once about a character and not even remotely enough words or brainpower to FORM the words to describe everything you're feeling. so it feels like you may explode. yeah

[desultory-novice]

I get the feeling that Adeline is the most likely to get therapy.

...She'll probably need it too... (Pausing the fun times for something dreadfully serious) -

"Pieces"

-

[Apologies AU Masterpost] [Noir's Field Trip]

[dezmolad]

EARTHSPARK S3: review??? (SPOILERS!)

this weekend I watched earthspark and I have to say something or I'll explode. This won't be a review as much as just some loose thoughts trying to summarise what this series had became.

STARSCREAM I hate what happened with starscream. I wrote an analysis of how this character got absolutely massacred in S2 (you can check it out here). To summarise: In S1 he was such a great character, shown so intriguing with both his not perfect character and his history of being abused. In S2 they made him the villain in an absolutely shallow way, in the final episode writing him in a way that makes him irredeemable. And I thought thats the worst u can do. And then S3 happened, when he appears for one scene to be shown as funny for "being crazy" (WHICH IS ABSOLUTELY DISGUSTING WHEN U REMEMBER S1 WHEN HE WAS A VICTIM OF ABUSE THAT NOONE BELIEVED. IS THIS REALLY A GOOD IDEA TO PORTRAY HIM AS HAHA CRAZY GUY). It's absolutely heartbreaking to watch that scene. Starscream gets electrocuted by the very person he opened up to in S1, he was in isolation for all of the S3, he went insane bc of that, and still at the end we drag him to autobot jail. what is this.

PROWL I have no idea how such an intriguing and complicated character from idw that was clearly an inspiration inspired such a dull and shallow character. His process of learning about respect for human allies and terrans is shown so poorely and never feels like being actually resolved, I won't even talk about this. I admire how they did two things I thought were impossible. I thought it's impossible to make IDW inspired Prowl in this show a good guy (I genuinely thought he's going to be the bad antagonist). I thought it's impossible to ignore his weird and complicated relationship with Tarantulas, in a show that had Tarantulas in S1, was created with Nick Roche as character designed and was inspired by The Sins Of The Wreckers specifically in specific places. They did both of those things and it worked out horribly, congrats.

CONCLUSION I can't understand what happened with this season. it's visible there was some cuts, it looks rushed, it lacks any substance, and Quintessons at the end... didn't help the case let's just say. But that isn't my bigest problem. I feel devastated by what happened to the ideals of the show. in S1 we had decepticons in cages, and figuring out it's not actually a good solution. In S2 we saw decepticon as boring usual villains. But in S3 we have decepticons in one big cage again. But this time there is no consideration, there is no doubt. Even if under Shockwave they just want to go home. They should all be kept imprisoned. No matter if they mean no harm, no matter if, like Starscream, they suffered enough. And there is nothing to figure out, that's just how the world works. After all, they are decepticons, right. yes I'm bitter, S1 was just very important to me and seeing what happened to ES is just sad.

[neverbesokind]

Oh my god it's The Alchemy day I have SO many thoughts about this song so I'm gonna try and condense them.

First of all, the song starts and ends with "This happens once every few lifetimes," which is a statement filled to the BRIM with irony, in my view. The entire album up to this point has been concerned with two romances, both of which Taylor states she felt were destined and fated and "storybook" in their own ways. The entirety of TTPD is exploring how these fated, destined, storybook romances could actually crumble, and with it, her faith and belief in the existence of fate and destiny and storybook love.

But THEN... almost at the end of the standard run of the album, Taylor states that she's getting back from recovering from this tragedy - "I'm back / The hospital was a drag / Worst sleep that I ever had". She gets back from the messy process of healing from the events described on the album, and despite everything finds herself falling in love again.

This is why the title is significant, too. Alchemy is the pseudoscience of making a material into something more valuable. And this reflects the emotional process of Taylor falling in love again - she felt like the past two tragedies took the shine off of everything, killed her belief that love could ever work. But then, despite everything, she falls in love again and the normal, even tragic world she lived in before is transformed into something golden.

And then the first line repeats again, to reflect the cyclical nature of what she has experienced. Obviously, "this" doesn't happen once every few lifetimes, it's happened twice before on the album and is happening again in this song. She's falling in love, she's finding something beautiful and fated, and she can't help but find it gorgeous and meaningful, even if she's been shown again and again that she might be proven wrong in the end. And it feels so special that even if it's obvious that it isn't a once-in-a-lifetime experience, it feels that rare and that precious.

In this song, love is the alchemy, the process of turning normalcy into meaning and beauty, and she can't help it.

[transingthoseformers]

My brother sent me another one of those goddamn tfone Megatron speech parodies and now I'm thinking about tfone's future again😭😭😭😭😭

[solarkindred]

I am like. The only person who ships these three and it makes me very sad. Also their designs are for my own use and not entirely 100% finished. If yall like em feel free to use idk

[etirabys]

mom, dad, you don't understand, the reason I flout traditional norms and do all this crazy(-to-you) stuff with group living and orgies and not having weddings is because I've reached a level of affluence unknown in our recent lineage. The lifestyles of the elite in any empire diverge markedly from the conventions that bind and stabilize the social matrix in rest of the populace. I live as the decadent Roman elite did, flaunting bisexuality and engaging in nonmonogamy

in other words, I've made it. This is what making it means in the modern world. You should be proud of me

[lord-squiggletits]

I'm not normally a "fuck canon" kind of person but it's still wild to me that JRO said via word of god that Pharma's red rust plague wasn't designed for Tarn. Like what the fuck. Tarn trapped Pharma into a blackmail deal to give him free tcogs for his transformation addiction and Pharma designs a plague that activates on transformation and you're gonna try to tell me that Tarn wasn't in Pharma's mind when he made it like that? How can you NOT write that into your plot when the connection is so obviously there? I guess it would've meant writing Pharma as more of a vengeful mech seeking punishment for his captor and not as an insane selfish doctor, and I guess that just wasn't what we were after.

[rayfishandchips]

this is so anime girl coded but miraculously no out of character for him. Someday I'll have to draw him as a mech anime girl.

Oh Roddy was so alive and young back in mtmte I wish nothing bad ever happens--- (rant in tags)