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slapegg · 5 months ago

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Some Thoughts About... Vay

Some Thoughts About... Vay (2024 rerelease)

STROOONG nostalgia for this one. It’s the second game I got for the Sega CD so it holds a special place in my heart, and it’s the first RPG I played on the system that’s mostly to blame for younger-me’s fascination with RPGs. Also, it serves as a great reminder of why it’s kind of okay that old school turn-based RPGs stopped being made, so it’s not a great game but it’s historically interesting but probably only so for people around to have originally played it.

The updated 2024 version was free on mobile if you already owned the first release. Aaand they had given the first release away for free years ago, before Apple stopped supporting it and it was removed from the store. So score! Free game for Pip!

The new version has some hits and misses on top of Vay’s own misses. There are some great quality of life features:

Move faster on the map

Faster battle speed

4X multiplier on gold

4X multiplier on experience

Turn off random battles

Vay is an insanely grindy game, so even with the 4X gold, you will still have to spend time grinding money to just afford the new stuff in town. They seemed to have de-Working Designs’d some of the number balancing, but man it’s still bad. In shops, the game doesn’t show you who can equip what items and how they change your stats. So you have to write down what gear everybody is equipped with and then compare that to what’s in the shop so you don’t waste precious money on equipment that’s actually worse than what you’re already wearing or you buy it and find out your character can’t even equip it. So you may be tempted to turn off random battles but you kind of can’t because of how danged expensive everything is and how much the bosses jump up in strength in each dungeon. By the end game though, the 4X Experience will have boosted your level way up (even while you’re struggling to buy equipment) and you get to find out, wow, the level cap is above 100.

This new version supports a controller and has a digital d-pad and tap control settings. The d-pad isn’t great because it’s freaking huge on the screen so it’s hard to make fine movements to get through doors or line up to talk to somebody. Tap controls are great for moving around and they automate the “move to and then examine” flow to open chests and talk to people, but they’re super tedious for trying to grind out battles for experience/money and don’t work properly when talking to people. If you approach a person/shop from the side, you can’t activate them, so you have to back away from them and then reapproach from below to trigger them. There are also times in the game where there isn’t room to back off and reapproach (like getting into your boat), so you’re forced to go into the settings menu, swap over to the d-pad, use that to change what direction you’re facing and interact with an object, then go back into the settings menu and switch back to tap controls.

It’s also not optimized for different resolutions. The menu Back button covers up your Gold UI so it’s hard to see how much money you have.

When you try to equip items, it shows you your entire inventory, including items that aren’t even equipment. So when you get a new piece of armor and open the menu to equip it, you have to scroll past all your weapons and even consumable items with the only difference for things you can equip versus things you can’t is that the equippable items are in white text and the unequippable items are in light gray. Just a truly awful menu. All you have to do is just hide the items that aren’t part of the category you’re looking at. If I’m trying to equip a shield, simply hide everything that isn’t a shield!

In the settings menu, you can’t move numbers down, only up. So the SFX setting defaults to being really loud and if you want to lower them by 20%, you can’t. You have to raise them all the way up 5% at a time to 100% and then the numbers will loop back around to 0% and now you can raise them to whatever level you want.

The new translation is weird but probably a lot less so if you never played the original. Sandor and Rachel’s names are different, but Pottle’s isn’t? Thankfully, you change change character names in the Settings menu.

The writing... Jokes about election interference, WMDs, stimulus checks. There’s a joke about Arby’s. Yes, the fast food joint. This new company is channeling Working Designs real hard. I know you’re thinking that surely there can’t be an “it’s over 9000” joke in here, right? That was played out a decade ago, so surely- Nope, just a straight reference with no creativity or thought put into it. I think I saw Ian Flynn’s name in the credits, so if that’s the same Ian Flynn that writes the modern Sonic the Hedgehog stuff, maybe that explains it?

The original game had a whole THING where they turned the goddess of the winds into a fart joke and your characters died if they weren’t wearing gas masks, and that’s just gone now. Did the new version remove it or did it never exist in the original and it’s something Working Designs put in?!

The Sega CD version had a common item called “gelignite” that causes fire damage to enemies. Which is named after a real world weapon and even as a little kid that did not know this was a form of dynamite, it has “gel” and “ignite” right there in the name so it sounds like napalm. In this new version, the item is called... Exploding Jellyfish. Whaaat!? Like, I see how you got there with the name, but “gelignite” isn’t some wacky Working Designs localization, it’s a real word! But now, jellyfish!

The cutsecenes (which are just in their original low, low resolution) seem to have new voice acting, but it is just as terrible as the original game’s. It’s so bad, it’s funny. There’s a scene where somebody dies and says “Tell him I died a hero”, and instead of Sandor shouting “Noooooo!” in anguish, he just says “No.” so it sounds like he’s refusing to call his dead friend a hero. Your friend is dead, Sandor, stop being a petty jerk!

So that’s a lot on presentation, but how does the game actually play?

The level design... It’s the kind of game that doesn’t warp you out of a dungeon after you complete it, so you have to walk all the way back to the start after getting the thing you need.

There’s a lot of “go to place A, talk to people to open the next path, go to place B, find out you need an item, return to place A, get item that they wouldn’t give you before but now will, return to place B”.

The dungeon layouts ramp up in complexity well, but by the end, it’s full on mazes and teleporter mazes, so it’s the worst of what RPGs offer.

Battles are fine, but there’s no real strategy or anything. Sandor and Rachel should pretty much only ever attack, PJ and Pottle should only ever cast magic (which is crazy overpowered), Lynx should just buff and heal, and Kinsey should only ever... just be pretty useless because she joins late in the game at levels vastly lower than your team’s and she only does physical damage at a point in the game where most enemies resist physical damage.

The original game had an auto-battle feature but it’s still hilariously awful. It will spread damage around to enemies rather than concentrating on killing them. It loves having Sandor cast the weakest Fire spell to do 90 damage when his basic attack will do 300, and so on. It’s awful, but the game has SO MANY random battles that you will put up with its awfulness so you don’t have to keep tapping the screen.

Enemy spells seem to do set amounts of damage so there are many dungeons where leveling up or buying new gear feels pointless. That spell is going to do 60 damage to everybody on your team at the beginning of the game and in the end game when you have great gear and your levels are all buffed up, it still does 60 damage.

Vay is such a weird game to choose for a re-release. Gameplay-wise, it does nothing interesting. It is the most bog standard by-the-books turn-based RPG. Nostalgia-wise, how many people actually owned Sega CDs and of those people, how many owned Vay? Story-wise, though, it still has some cool moments. Your party members die or leave and they take all their equipment and accessories with them. You dead jerks, that stuff was expensive! And Vay was one of wee-Pip’s first exposures to a “fantasy world encounters sci-fi” story and it’s still cool. The opening cutscene starts off with your fantasy world people having a wedding in a castle, and then freaking robots come blasting out of the sky and wreck the joint. That is still a heck of a way to begin a story! Phantasy Star and later Final Fantasy games are neat for combining fantasy and sci-fi elements, but in Vay, it’s a clash between those two things. These fantasy people have no words or knowledge of this incredibly alien thing they’re encountering so these murder robots are “enchanted armor” and you need wizards to seal them away. Also, Vay still has amazing music and the regular and boss themes are superb. One of the last dungeons just straight up rips off Thriller, which is great!

I basically got the game for free, so I’m probably being more forgiving of it than it deserves, but I enjoyed re-playing this. Good and bad, it made me feel things, so that seems like a success. Even if you aren’t grandfathered into getting the mobile re-release for free, it’s only like $7 on PC so it might be worth a shot if you’re into old RPGs. It’s not a long game by any means and you can bang it out in a weekend. And at the least, it can serve as an inoculation against those weirdo indie developers trying to trick you into bringing back turn-based RPGs or thinking that random battles weren’t a bad thing. Play Vay and stay strong knowing that this genre died for a reason.

#vay #sega cd #SoMoGa

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illumtori · 1 year ago

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The Power of Habit: Building a Daily Routine for Maximum Productivity

Habits are more than just actions we repeat. They are the building blocks of our daily lives. Establishing the right habits can be the difference between success and perpetual burnout. So, what exactly is a habit, and why does it hold so much sway in dictating our productivity?

The Science Behind Habits

Have you ever wondered why certain activities like brushing your teeth or grabbing morning coffee, feel so automatic, while others require a burst of motivation? That is the power of habit at work. At its core, a habit is a routine or behavior that is repeated frequently and tends to occur subconsciously. The more you do it, the more ingrained it becomes.

The Habit Loop: Every habit operates in a three-part cycle called the habit loop: the cue, the routine, and the reward.

The Cue: This is the trigger that initiates the behavior. It could be an external event, like an alarm going off, or an internal feeling, like hunger.

The Routine: This is the behavior itself, like going for a jog when you wake up early or heading to the fridge when you feel hungry.

The Reward: Post-routine, this is the positive feedback loop, it could be the endorphin rush after a workout or the satisfaction of a meal. The reward reinforces the habit, making it more likely you will repeat the routine next time the cue arises.

The fascinating thing here is the role of dopamine, a neurotransmitter linked to pleasure and reward. When we anticipate a reward, our brains release dopamine. Over time, as a behavior is repeated, this dopamine release starts to occur earlier, right at the cue stage, driving us to engage in the routine. This solidifies the habit, making the routine almost automatic.

Understanding the habit loop is transformative. It means you have the power to mold habits that cater to your aspirations. Want to start a morning reading habit? Set a clear cue (like placing a book by your bed), establish the routine (read a few pages), and then bask in the reward (the knowledge or relaxation it brings).

Benefits of Building Strong Productive Habits

In a world filled with distractions — the constant ping of notifications, the allure of social media, and the demands of a burgeoning career — people often find themselves wondering how to maximize their day-to-day output. Habits, as mundane as they might seem, is the secret to consistent productivity. Let’s explore why building strong productive habits can be so important.

Enhancing Focus and Mental Clarity: Good habits eliminate the need for decision-making for routine tasks. For example, when you make a habit of planning your next day every evening, it becomes an automatic part of your routine. This reduces decision fatigue and allows you to allocate your mental resources to more complex tasks, leading to better focus and clarity.

Reduce Decision Fatigue: Every choice that we make, from selecting an outfit to choosing what to eat for lunch, expends a bit of our cognitive energy. By automating certain decisions through habits, we can reduce this fatigue. This means when you face larger, and more impactful decisions, your brain is fresher and more equipped to handle them.

Conserve Mental Energy by Automating Daily Tasks: Think of your brain as a battery. No matter how small each task is or decision that needs to be made, it uses some charge. Strong habits act as energy savers. When tasks become habitual, they require less “battery power”, leaving you with more energy to focus on things that truly matter.

Ensure Consistency and Steady Progress Towards Goals: Rome wasn’t built in a day, and neither are our life goals. Achieving big aspirations often requires consistent and small actions over time. Building habits aligned with your goals ensures that you are making steady progress, even when motivation wanes.

Life can sometimes feel overwhelming. But habits serve as anchors, stabilizing your day and ensuring you are moving in the right direction. Whether you are aiming for academic excellence, climbing the corporate ladder, or just seeking personal growth, productive habits can be your best friend. The beauty lies in their simplicity. Start small, repeat, and let the magic of habit work in your favor.

Steps to Establish a Productive Daily Routine

Creating a daily routine might sound like a straightforward task, but for many people, it can be a challenge that feels insurmountable. Between unexpected events, evolving responsibilities, and the myriad of choices available, setting a fixed routine might seem rigid. But the beauty of a routine lies in its adaptability. Here’s how you can establish one that is both effective and flexible.

Self-Assessment: Understand Your Peak Productive Hours

Not all hours are created equal. Some of us are morning larks, while others are night owls. Start by identifying when you are the most alert and energetic.

Use this period for tasks that require deep concentration or creativity. Your brain will thank you for it.

Prioritization: Determine Your Most Important Tasks (“MITs”)

Every day, list down three tasks that you absolutely must get done. These are your MITs.

Completing these first gives a sense of accomplishment and sets a productive tone for the day.

Sequence Structure: Arrange Tasks to Optimize Energy and Focus

Once you know your peak hours and MITs, structure your day around them.

Pair high-energy tasks with your peak hours and alternate between demanding and lighter tasks to prevent burnout.

Time Blocking: Allocate Specific Times for Specific Tasks

Visualize your day by dividing it into blocks of dedicated time for specific activities.

This will ensure you allocate sufficient time for tasks and also prevents the dilemma of “what should I do next?.”

Consistency: Stick to Your Routine and Make Small Adjustments as Needed

A routine only becomes effective when followed consistently. But life is unpredictable. Instead of overhauling your routine with every hiccup, make minor tweaks.

Regularly reflect on what is working and what is not, and adjust accordingly.

A tailored routine is less about strict adherence and more about creating a reliable framework. It offers guidance when things get chaotic and flexibility when needed. By building this structured yet adaptable routine, you pave the way for more productive days, weeks, and months.

Common Mistakes When Building Habits and How to Avoid Them

The journey to habit mastery is fraught with pitfalls. Recognizing these common mistakes can be the key to maintaining your momentum:

Setting Overly Ambitious Goals: While ambition is admirable, setting unrealistic habits can lead to quick burnout. Start small. Instead of an hour of daily reading, start with 10 minutes and scale up as it becomes more routine.

Neglecting to Monitor or Reflect on Progress: Tracking your habits does not only offer motivation through visible progress but also highlights areas for improvement. Use apps, journals, or simple checklists.

Not Accounting for Rest and Leisure: All work and no play is not sustainable. Ensure your routine includes breaks, leisure activities, and sufficient sleep.

Resistance to Change or Flexibility: Being overly rigid can make your routine brittle. Life is dynamic, and so should be your habits. Adapt, adjust, and evolve as you grow.

Embarking on a journey of habit creation is exciting. But it is also essential to remember that habits are a marathon, not a sprint. It is less about perfection and more about persistence. Embrace the learning curve, celebrate small victories, and most importantly, be kind to yourself when things don’t go as planned.

Overcoming Challenges and Staying Motivated

Every journey has its highs and lows, and building habits is no exception. Sticking to a routine can sometimes feel like an uphill battle. Here is how to weather the storms and stay on course:

Understand Your “Why”

Dig Deep: It is not enough to say you want to read daily. Why do you want to? Is it to gain knowledge, to escape, or to improve focus? Understanding the core reason behind a habit gives it depth and meaning.

Revisit Regularly: As life changes, so will your motivations. Regularly check in with your “why”. Ensure it is still relevant and powerful enough to drive you.

Seek Accountability

Find a Buddy: Share your habit-building journey with a friend. Set goals together, check in on each other, and celebrate mutual successes.

Join Groups or Challenges: Platforms like Reddit or even local community groups often have challenges or forums dedicated to specific habits. Being part of a larger community can offer a sense of belonging and purpose.

Celebrate Milestones

Set Mini-Goals: Break down your larger habit goals into smaller milestones. It could be as simple as reading for 10 minutes daily for a week straight.

Tangible Rewards: Treat yourself when you hit milestones. It could be something related to the habit, like a new book, or an unrelated treat you have been eyeing.

Adopt a Growth Mindset

Fail Forward: Every setback is an opportunity in disguise. Failed to keep up with a habit? Analyze why. Maybe you set too ambitious a goal, or perhaps the timing wasn’t right. Understand and adjust.

Stay Curious: Habit-building is as much about self-discovery as it is about discipline. Stay open and curious about what works for you and what doesn’t. Adapt, experiment, and keep learning.

Visualize the Endgame

The Power of Visualization: Take a moment daily to visualize the person you will become if you stick to your habits. This mental image can serve as a powerful motivator, drawing you towards your best self.

Manifest Through Action: While visualization is potent, coupling it with daily actionable steps brings your dreams closer to reality.

Flexibility is Key

Routines Are Not Set in Stone: If something isn’t working, or if life throws a curveball, it is okay to adjust your routine. Habit-building is a dynamic process that should cater to your evolving needs.

Avoid the “All or Nothing” Trap: Missed a day of your routine? That is okay. It does not mean all progress is lost. Jump back in tomorrow. Consistency over time matters more than short-term perfection.

Conclusion

The transformative power of habits extends far beyond mere routines and tasks. They lay the foundation for future success, personal growth, and holistic well-being. The choices made during these formative years, the habits cultivated, and the routines established set the tone for decades to come.

The essence of habit-building is not just about the destination but the journey itself. It is about the self-awareness developed when reflecting on our “why’s”, the resilience shown in the face of setbacks, and the joy of celebrating small wins. It is about evolving with life’s ebb and flow, learning from every experience, and persistently inching closer to our best selves.

Habits are both a mirror and a mold. They reflect who we are at our core while simultaneously shaping who we aspire to become. Start with intention, proceed with consistency, and arm yourself with the strategies and insights shared in this guide.

Follow our Instagram account for your daily dose of fun and inspiration

Looking for a productivity tool that can help you achieve goals, set budget, and be more productive? Come learn about Illumtori!

#100 days of productivity #self improvement #goals #productivity #personal growth #personal development #inspiration #motivation #self motivation #achieve your goals #life goals

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starrprincesss · 1 year ago

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28.06.2023

I would like to forget each experience. But my memory plays it on a loop, the record is broken, and it won't budge.

I suppose I must be honest with myself. It hurt, it hurt tremendously. Out of stupidity, I wanted love. But everything is a lesson when you're 21. I know that deep down I felt extremely lonely, life felt lacklustre, my home situation is in a constant crumble, and I wanted to escape more than anything. So, I looked for that escape in someone else. I thought if someone could love me, like truly love me, maybe I'd be okay. Maybe living in LA wouldn't feel so bad, maybe my decision of moving back would finally feel correct, maybe I'd have a reason to silently tell the world that I have value, and that someone else recognises it in me. What pains me more than anything is that this time I actually tried, this time I was honest, this time I decided to be sweet and open. This time I cared for someone, and I showed it, I showed it completely. Because I thought I was okay to do so, because I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought I had found the "one". How silly of me, to think that at 21 I could find the love of my life. Now the question that is actually the answer to my dilemma is; why do I desperately feel as if I must find the one already? Why am I trying so hard to have everything figured out right now? What's the rush?

If I do not have a partner at 21 or 22 that does not mean I will never find a partner, and that especially does not mean I am unlovable and will die alone. Again, what's the rush? Would I really want to get married at 22? No. Then slow down. Take your time Elizabeth, your life is not a race. I was desperate for connection, I felt that I was starved of it. Every person before him felt so meaningless, I had a mask with all of them the entire time. But with him it felt real, with him, I was myself completely. I have realised the people I have the most in common with, sometimes, are not good. We have experienced the same childhood, but we've taken two different paths out of it, and I'm afraid they chose the one without empathy and love. They chose to pretend that life is a game, and people are like dolls, if you tell yourself that you are the only real one, and everyone around you is fake, it becomes really easy to essentially; do whatever you please with them. People are no longer people, but items to use as you fancy. It"s like a child with a toy, they use it for as long as they want, make them do whatever, and once they get bored they throw them away and ache for a new one, a better one, one they know nothing about. The sense of newness is tempting, partially for the fascination of what it is, but the grandest part is (ourselves) being able to be new. I am a new specimen once again, and I can form myself to seem perfect to you, and awe you, I can perform for you. It's like hosting a ballet dance once a day for an entire month, but only allowing one person to watch you each night. You can tweak your performance one night, add something the other, take something away, you can keep "improving" until it turns more into you impressing yourself rather than the spectator. They don't really matter, it's you. It's like inside of you, you have the missing parents that you lacked in childhood. You are trying to impress yourself. And as you get better with these performances, you surprise yourself, you realise what you can get away with, how well you can pretend to be someone else, how easy it is for you to lie, how easy it is to make someone fall in love with you, how much you get off on the fact that the other person knows nothing about you really, how you are the director of this show. It is tempting, because it's a rush, a deep thrill. Pushing the limits of yourself, but remember, this is in a sick manner. Because in order to do this, be like this, you must think of everyone else as non-existent, as if they don't compare to you, you think you're better in some way. You do not recognise that they too have a story, a childhood, wounds of their own, dreams, ambitions... feelings. You forget that people feel, and that things have long lasting impacts.

I write about all of this so easily because it is for me. Because I can easily be that person, because I was that person. I'm not sure if it comes with the personality disorder or the awful childhood, maybe it is a mixture of both, or one is the result of the other. Who knows. What I do know is that everyday, I have to choose to not be like that. I have to choose to be good. I have to choose to recognise that people are humans, that they walk through life just like me, they are not just dolls to play with and throw away when we get bored, they get hurt, they cry, they remember things, they feel, just like me. I have to see that inside of myself, and see it in others. I choose empathy, and kindness, but most importantly respect. I don't want to hurt others anymore, it never feels good. Because at the root of it, it is just your self hate. Nothing more. I have to remember who I was before everything happened, I have to find that child inside of myself. I have had extreme lessons back to back, and part of me feels afraid to try again. I am left with scares and wounds, but I know, like all things, that they will soon heal, that wounds fade from blue to skin colour, and that scabs soon peel off and reveal healthier skin below. A healthier, more wiser being. I hope to be that. So I guess the pain is okay, I guess I should be grateful to the things that have hurt me, I've learned. I had to experience it, I had to experience all of it. Thank you for teaching me.

elizabeth sainz.

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29pageshomestuckeveryday · 2 years ago

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Homestuck, page 1,358

youtube

[S] ACT 4 ==>

walkthrough: http://readmspa.org/transcripts/readmspa-transcript-6_003258_John_explores_LOWAS_with_help_from_Nannasprite_transcript_and_walkthrough.html

Song used: Doctor by Buzinkai

song commentary:

Clark Powell:

Doctor was originally by Buzinkai and then a now non-active member Michael Vallejo added a few bits of percussion to it. I then put together a larger mix of the tune with shinier production and a glockenspiel tag, and this was the version Andrew used in the end.

Buzinkai:

Doctor was written before Homestuck, actually. The only thing I can really remember was that Super Smash Bros Brawl came out right before I finished it. The original loop (which is not the one specifically heard in the comic, but was included in the album release) was directly inspired by music from Cave Story, and I was trying to at the time musically embody how I felt at the time, I think. Though it never seems to come out exactly as I plan it, I enjoyed the results. I will say that I cannot truly believe how many people have remixed it.

The arpeggio part at the end goes between the left, both, and right speakers sequentially. I was too lazy to set the channel settings manually, so I did each note on a different instrument, which is set to each speaker channel. Not many people know that, and I think it actually made it a living hell for remixers who got a hold of the original file.

Author commentary:

Welcome to Book 3, which obviously starts with Act 4, which obviously starts with Gate 1. I mean…obviously? Glad that's obvious to everyone. What's also PAINFULLY obvious to anyone looking at this page, no matter who they are, is that this [used to be] a loading screen. Hot Flash Content is being piped directly into your [browser], right now, at the speed of bullshit. We're off to a great start here in the author notes section. Hey remember Flash loading screens? Those were the days. You needed SOMETHING to look at while untold KILOBYTES were crawling through your ethernet cables. In this case, I chose to dazzle you with a hypnotically morphing spirograph. You quickly went into a trance of fascination. The suspense built. Cue the music. and then…….magic.

>1: Okay, no magic here. No music or movement, because it's [not Flash]! All you get is my goofs. Sorry, sucker. Let's talk about this animation. It's pretty damn enchanting, really. We finally get to see what's under those gray clouds. It's a bunch of fireflies, and a blue landscape with phosphorescent flora and black oily rivers. Act 4 marks the official beginning of the scenery porn era of Homestuck.

>2: Or "LOWAS," as becomes the model for further nomenclature in reference to Homestuck's lands. These "lands," of course, are fairly small planets. Hard to say how big exactly. I don't think I ever really did any due diligence on the cosmological scale of these bodies. They're big enough to explore and get lost in but not so huge as to be hopelessly unchartable. I guess I always pictured them being like a small state in the US. Like if Rhode Island or Connecticut were wrapped around a sphere. Literally doing so would make for a fairly lackluster land, suitable for a pretty bland player of Sburb. (I suppose such as…every resident of those particular states? Why…why am I alienating these people already? It's only the fourth page. Oh well, forty-eight states to go, I guess.)

>3: OKAY LET'S CUT THE SHIT AND TALK ABOUT THIS FLASH! It's a playable game. That turned out to be a thing in HS. As a Flash loaded, readers would wonder…is this going to be a GAME? (Virtually always: no. But sometimes…sometimes, yes!) This one is similar in style to the game when John first enters the Medium and can wander around his house, but this time there's ACTUAL battle mechanics.. You can bonk imps with a hammer, collect grist and items—all rather pointlessly, I should add. But you can do it, is the point. Why? I really couldn't fucking tell you, to this day. I think I was legitimately insane? This, with perfectly brutal honesty, I must admit now strikes me as something a crazy person would do.

>4: I suppose the upshot of the game format is that it lets the player wander around this fantastical new land and discover its mysteries just like John is doing. Actually, YOU don't get to. You get to [click] through this [set of images] with your grubby fingers while I struggle through a borderline state of dementia, heroically trying to remember what I was thinking when I made this. But some people sure did get to do that. Anyway, this is what happens when you click that icon in the upper right. John gets to talk to Nanna, like…there's some sort of comm system back to his sprite? Sprites technically can't go far from the house after their player enters the Medium. That's the strict rule of Sburb. Until much, much later, when it stops being all that strict, for reasons that are unlikely ever to be explained, even by the WISEST of sprites.

>7: Here's a little taste of the gameplay. You click on a thing and a menu pops up, which includes what is…technically a text command that is being entered by…the player of Homestuck? (Who has at this point been revealed to be any given exile, operating the post-apocalypse Sburb station.) It's pretty esoteric. But you don't need to think about any of this to play the game, get a sense of John's rad land, meet some scurrilous foes in need of a bashing, and feel like a cool hero.

>18: The ghost gauntlets holding that ridiculous paisley hammer are just a fixture of the environment in this game. I didn't want them to be an item you could use, because that would have been complicated to implement. It was a little attention to detail on my part, by which I mean my inclination to consider how John could wield this huge hammer in his inventory. Specific items that are accrued by the players become a lot less relevant much later in the story. Because it stops being a thing about a Guy In A Game You Are "Playing," and starts being more about a bunch of Characters In A Story You Are Reading, Who Are Sad All The Time.

>20/23: Here we meet a "consort." Or, a salamander, in the case of John's planet. All planets have consorts, usually a different kind of amphibian or reptile for each. Why amphibians or reptiles? Didn't I cover this already in another book note? Oh. You don't remember either? Well, guess we're in the same boat then. (Consorts have very short life spans, which is the joke here.) And a parcel pyxis is like a pipe mailbox they throw shit in to send places. They have a whole pipe-based civilization, but the pipes are all clogged with oil, and… You know, I did a much better job with this worldbuilding stuff by letting you understand it all in the game through exploration and inference. Too bad you're not playing it now, so you get remedial lore for boneheads down here.

>29: This salamander laments the desecration of a glorious village frog idol. (Frogs are sacred. This fact will be as important as it is frequently repeated.) He talks about the underling swarm dedicated to destroying and oiling up such idols as a "recent" event, as if this village has existed for hundreds of years and only now have the underlings emerged to wreak mischief. This is in keeping with the strange paradox of planets in the Medium: the fact that they were just created instantly through booting up the game, and yet have always existed with entire smorgasbords of ready-made lore and quests for the players to engage with.

>36: Here this sassy salamander alludes to an alliance that John's denizen seems to have formed with the agents of Derse. Those are the "terrible guys" who commissioned the underlings. The denizens aren't really the bad guys of this game. They're more like ornery yet neutral gods of these planets, who can help or harm depending on the circumstances. Derse agents are the formal bad guys, whose designated role is to obstruct the progress of the heroes, vandalize frog statues, antagonize frog enthusiasts, and dislike frogs in general.

>37/38/40: Are you thrilled about sifting through layers of worldbuilding as conveyed through the expository bubblings of enthusiastic amphibians? Then this is the page for you. It's a pretty straightforward outline of John's formal quest on this planet. Wake the monster, kill the monster. Clean the pipes, release the Breeze. The Breeze clears the clouds, the fireflies go free. That's the goal. What does it all MEAN? That is for YOU, the reader, to boggle over, forever. It's worth nothing that when John actually gets around to doing all this, the meaning of completing this quest and the thing that it actually accomplishes are radically different than what the present stakes of the story are understood to be at this point. There is, throughout this tale, an ever-present tension between the hero's quest as presented at face value and the hero's True Quest—the mysterious journey overlaying and superseding the shallow journey described by consorts, sprites, et al—which the kids must come to grips with. >41/43: This is a pretty good procession of salamanders talking about important stuff, which perhaps makes you think it's all leading up to an encounter with some sort of regal presence in the village. Perhaps a tribal leader. But no, it's just this fool, farming all these goddamn mushrooms. The Mushroom Farmer is just notable enough of a salamander to be known to fandom as the Mushroom Farmer, and would probably be credited that way in the end credits if this were a movie. Same goes for the fellow below wearing the hat. He's known as Crumplehat. Trust me on this. >45: See? I told you his name was Crumplehat. Maybe try to fucking believe me next time I tell you stuff. >51: There are two reasons why John can only say no to this offer. First, I would have had to program an alternate path where he gives up the suit, as well as change the sprite to reflect that, and permanently introduce a fork in the story where John either sells the suit or doesn't. The second reason is it's just a straight-up dogshit offer. Giving someone a boondollar for something is like offering them a penny you found in the toilet.

>58: Salamanders are pretty good at trolling, actually. So are lots of figures in Homestuck. Like John's nanna, his dad, John himself, all his friends, and also all the characters who are literally called trolls. I guess there are a lot of characters who like to troll each other because that is my forte, you could say, as a storyteller? This could also explain why characters who are actual trolls entered the story. They simply manifested as an extension of the story's nature.

>65: Oh Christ, the Secret Wizard. I forgot about him. Yeah, him too. He's also a really big-deal salamander. (Just joking, he's actually a small deal.) He's a simple man. All he really wants you to do is behold his robes. That's it.

>67: John's bedsheet will show up again later as well. It makes quite a trip through the story, actually, and appears in a surprising number of panels. Specifically, every single panel that WV appears in. Surprised? No? Oh. Well, let's just say you are, and move on. (Okay, wait, before we move on I should clarify something. WV's shroud is actually the dream version of John's bedsheet. The Secret Wizard just keeps this oily, shitty one forever, and then starts some sort of cult. Okay, NOW we can move on.)

>70-72: So in other words, their entire mail system revolves around putting shit in the pipes, having it sent to completely random places, and whoever gets it gets it. This sounds pretty stupid, but I guess it's part of their religion or something. So you have to respect it.

>78-84: When you're playing through this game, I guess one of the more low-key, gradually unfolding jokes is how it slowly becomes apparent that all the garbage from John's house that he carelessly launched out windows and fumbled over cliffs ended up down here to be scavenged by a bunch of enterprising salamanders who try to pawn all the items back on him. Or just keep them as incredible new accessories.

>81: Five million boonies really isn't all that much, huh.

>84: I'm glad we dedicated an entire page to the choice John makes in refusing to buy back his own shitty clown statue from this guy. Look. This is my ART, people. It needs room to BREATH.

>87/88: Maybe one of the strangest traits of salamanders is how acerbically self-deprecating they are. Maybe they just hate themselves? They'd be far from the only ones in this tale. Also, here's a nice, snap game-design thing I thought of on the fly, when this game was being "developed" over a span of literally about forty-eight hours. Just put a damn bubble with a telescope in it hovering at exactly the place where the player needs to use the scope. That way, they use the scope, and they don't NOT use the scope. So you can see what's in the scope, over there. Incredible.

>90-93: Here's what's in the scope: a view of John's house up on a tall rock-spire plateau, way off in the distance. This view gives you a sense of how far John traveled by going through his gate, the relative proximity of his house, and the fact that the house is inaccessible for a while at least. It also reveals a little more about gate logic and the distances they can send you, and helps you start to imagine hopping all around this world via gates to complete your quest. Oh, and I guess this is kind of a cool shot? Sure.

>94-100: And here Nanna basically explains some stuff I just explained on the previous page. The point, obviously, is to browbeat you with explanations of Sburb game logic fundamentals until you start crying. Here's another thing I guess I haven't mentioned yet: walking through this game gives you a pretty good appreciation of the variety of imps, now that there's been another pre-entry prototyping. Remember Rose entering the game just as John goes through his gate? Now we get to observe all these imps in princess gear, or with tentacles, or cat parts, or some permutation of all three.

>100:And once again Nanna steals my thunder by explaining a thing I just explained. Damn it, Nanna. I feel your pain, John. She's absolutely brutal.

>107: More sass from one of these bastards. I feel like I'm getting fucking roasted every time they open their mouths. I'd look up at the sky and ask "Why, God?" But it's not that mysterious. I'm getting roasted by my past self and his snarkyass writing. If he wasn't trapped back in 2010 or so, I'd ask him why he wrote these damn lizards to be a bunch of wiseasses. "That's just all I know," he would probably say. Yeah, I feel you man. I mean, don't get me wrong, they're funny as hell. But, why? I don't… Oh, never mind. Now I sound like a person who is insane. I'll try to do better.

>111: Oh, here's the end of the game. That game was a single panel of Homestuck. And here we are, on…page 30? Thirty pages' worth of annotations just to cover the first panel of Act 4. I think I need to lie down.

#homestuck #video #walkaround page #Youtube

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rollercoasterwords · 2 years ago

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Have no clue if you’re still on The Prank discourse but one thing I find so interesting about it is how much it emotionally affects people compared to something like Regulus being a canonical blood supremacist or Barty torturing people or other more traditional bad guys. And I think a lot has to do with how it affects two characters that people often project themselves into (Remus and Snape) rather than just being a generic “oh ya he tried to murder someone we hear about for a line or two.” Like people don’t approach it from a literary or a character standpoint, they often seem to see it as something that wronged THEM. It’s so fascinating to me- the epitome of how one attempted murder is a tragedy but the attempted murder of many that I don’t happen to care about is an easily ignored statistic.

of COURSE i am happy to continue talking about The Prank u bring up a really interesting point!! i do think a lot of the things that become these big like...moral debates in this fandom have less to do with like. actual morality and more to do with like....constructing identity through social media. like god ok let me see if i can be concise abt this:

we're being increasingly conditioned to construct our identities around online presence and social signifiers like the media we consume; so for a lot of people the books they read or the shows they watch etc etc are not just something to enjoy but are a pillar around which they are constructing their perceptions of themself. and in order to reify that construction you basically have to put yourself in this constant feedback loop of posting these social signifiers so that other people can look at them and go "oh so this is your identity," because a performance can't be real without an audience.

SO. i feel like that's where we're getting people who will say "oh yeah i'm a [character] kin" and feel as though that is truly an important expression of their deepest personal selves. and then, once your identity is tied to those characters, any attack on those characters feels like an attack on you. you can't accept the fact that other people might interpret the characters differently, because to do so would mean to accept that this thing you've tied your identity to is somewhat meaningless/empty/fluid/unstable, which would force you to confront the fact that this identity you're performing is, in fact, a performance, and not a revealing of some true and inherent inner self.

in reality, all of the things that happen in harry potter do not hold any real-life moral weight. like...these actions aren't happening. we aren't talking about real people doing real things to each other, we're talking about characters. so to use an example from ur message, barty killing his dad is no better or worse than The Prank, because neither of those things actually happened. and THAT means that everybody can take those fictional actions and interpret them in different ways and say they think one is better or worse within this fictional context, but there is no single true and correct interpretation, because none of this is real.

so, yeah. i think ur 100% right that when we do get these really contentious debates about the morality of certain characters, it's because people aren't approaching the topic through the lens of literary critique but rather through the lens of this Personal Moral Performance. like, if you kin sirius, and someone says sirius was bad for doing The Prank, then you HAVE to defend sirius and insist that that person is wrong, because u need to perform ur own moral correctness to the audience. like, sirius can't be a morally bad character, because i kin sirius, and i am morally good.

and yeah, that definitely leads to some cognitive dissonance! people are going to be quick to defend the characters they've attached themselves to while decrying the bad actions of the characters they don't like/don't care about--again, oftentimes to perform Morality on the internet more than in service of any actual literary critique. and like. if ur stuck in this mindset of feeling like you need to be constantly proving to the world how morally good you are, then anyone pointing out the fact that you defend one character but shit on another who did similar things is gonna feel like a personal attack, and that just makes the whole situation worse because then you feel like you need to dig your heels in and insist that your interpretations are right and their interpretations are wrong, and nobody feels like they can give ground without becoming Problematic for defending/shitting on whatever character they're fighting about.

#want to note that none of this post is a moral judgment in people who are like #stuck in the Social Media Morality Performance Loop #in general i think most people who approach media with that mindset simply have not had the opportunity to like #break free from it #and have been very insidiouly conditioned to think that way by things like social media #so!!#yeah this is not me trying to point fingers or make an us vs them situation i think that would be counterproductive to what im saying here #but i do encourage everyone to try and be aware of the ways in which they are attaching their identities to media #it's unavoidable to a certain extent but that doesn't mean we should be losing the ability #to approach beloved stories from the perspective of literary critique #rather than moral performance #you do not need to be constantly performing your morality to the world #nobody is perfectly morally pure we are all human it's much better to foster communities in which we are able to fuck up and learn and grow #at least in my opinion!!#ok ill shut up now lol #ranting and raving #ask

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reid-fiction · 4 years ago

Text

A Progression of Touch

In which Spencer doesn’t like to touch people until you come along and then he can’t help himself

A/N: Look at me, dropping stories like flies. Also, I’ve been staring at this gif for far too long...

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He doesn’t like to touch other people.

He knows it, you know it, the whole F.B.I. knows it. He told you as much the first time he met you by the way he awkwardly refused to shake your hand. Though he compensated with a friendly smile and a wave, you knew you were in for a ride with Dr. Spencer Reid.

It wasn’t that he thought you were diseased. He just knew too much about germs and the human body to risk it, especially around cold and flu season which was exactly when he met you. It was bad enough that Garcia had dragged him to the Christmas party to begin with - there were so many people in close quarters, who knew what viruses were floating around - but he wasn’t a big fan of mingling and small talk either. And that was exactly what Penelope was forcing him into when he got his first glimpse of you.

As soon as you had five minutes with Spencer under your belt, you knew you wanted a lot more time with him. He was unlike any person you had ever met and he fascinated you, especially his aversion to touch.

A few months later, when Spencer finally bit the bullet and asked you on a date (after much prompting and borderline bribery from Garcia and multiple other team members she had coerced into helping her), he knew that his no touching rule was not going to fly for very long. He didn’t know much about relationships, but he did know that physical touch was a pretty important factor to most women. Though you never pushed him, he could tell that you were holding back for his benefit. He could see it in your eyes every time he dropped you off after a date. In most scenarios, a kiss goodnight would be expected - you wanted it, he could sense it - but it felt like you were the wrong side of a magnet that he just couldn’t get himself close to.

This was a problem, because he was falling for you and he was going to have to do something about it.

Spencer knew that going the 0-100 method wasn’t going to work for him. He couldn’t just jump from not touching you at all to getting hot and heavy in the backseat of a car. But, gradual steps may work. If he eased himself in to getting acquainted with touching you, he could both push himself out of his comfort zone and give you a bit of the physical contact that you were clearly craving.

-----

It started with a hug.

One night, after walking you to your front door, you could tell that Spencer was concentrating on something and it wasn’t your current conversation. You were rambling on about some TV program you had seen the other night, and you knew he wasn’t listening to a word you were saying.

“Hey, you okay?”

He glanced up at you, frowning, as if he had just remembered you were standing there.

“Yeah, fine. Why?”

“I dunno,” you shrugged, wrapping your arms around yourself after catching a gust of chilly air. “You just seem...far away. Distracted.”

He paused, pursing his lips at your accusation, and you suddenly felt extremely vulnerable under his gaze.

“Is something wrong? Did I...did I do something? I mean, are you -”

“No!”

The suddenness of his reply caused you to jump, and he let out a nervous chuckle before running a hand through his hair.

“No, it’s not you at all. I’m sorry, you’re right. I am distracted.”

“Well...about what? Maybe I can help.”

He paused again, and then smiled. “Yeah, maybe you can. Would you be able to just...stand still for a second?”

The strange nature of his request caused you to frown a bit, but you simply nodded and watched him with curiosity. A few seconds later, he slowly started to to move a few steps closer and raise his arms slightly. You had absolutely no idea what he was doing, but you didn’t move a muscle. His arms eventually found their way to rest lightly on the sides of you waist and then started to wrap around your torso.

Your stomach instantly flipped. This was the first time Spencer had ever touched you beyond the occasional brush of your shoulders when you moved past him, or a playful kick to his leg when he beat you at chess. It had been two months of weekly dates, dinners, museum trips and evenings of sitting and talking until you were both too tired to form coherent sentences but, as much as you loved those times with him, you’d by lying if you said you never wished that he would throw caution to the wind once in a while and toss an arm around you or caress the side of your face with his fingers.

Now, just the feeling of his hands on your back was like opening up a can of worms that had been wriggling in desperation for weeks, and you certainly hoped that this wasn’t a one time thing, because there was no way you’d ever be able to put those worms back in the can after this.

He took another step toward you and circled his arms tighter around your back. You knew he had asked you not to move, but you couldn’t hold back any longer. You slowly raised your own arms until they were resting on his shoulders and then, when he didn’t protest, you wrapped them around his neck and leaned in until your head was nestled just below his collarbone. He tensed up only a moment before you felt him lean his head in the crook of your neck.

You weren’t sure how long you stood there, holding each other. It could have been a few minutes, it could have been a few hours. You didn’t care, all that you knew was that you never wanted him to let go.

-----

After the hug, his next target were your hands.

Although Spencer was keenly aware of just how many germs the human hand picked up throughout the day, he was determined to overcome his aversion. You were clean and had good hygiene habits, he knew that. He had been hugging you every time he saw you since that first night, how much more difficult could holding your hand be?

It was during a movie he wasn’t really paying attention to that he finally made his move. Lately, his go-to move during movies was to carefully put his arm around you and rest his hand on your shoulder. He was completely comfortable with that movement now and really thought nothing of it anymore. He could tell that you enjoyed it as well, so he was more than happy to oblige you and suggest a movie night as often as possible.

Tonight, however, he had different ideas. He purposely kept his arm at his side for the first half of the film, and he knew that you noticed. Truthfully, you had come to expect the motion now and were slightly disappointed when it didn’t happen as soon as the opening credits started to roll, but it wasn’t long until you figured out why.

You thought it was an accident at first. You had both of your hands resting in your lap and had your eyes focused on the movie when you felt it. The lightest, softest brush of skin against your own. Your hand twitched involuntarily and you silently cursed yourself for probably scaring him away. But, a minute or so later, it happened again. Still soft, still tentative, but it lingered.

You stealthily flicked your gaze down to your lap and saw Spencer’s hand hovering just slightly over your own. You weren’t entirely sure what he was aiming for, but you kept your hand deathly still while you waited. His hand finally came to rest on your thigh and the side of his palm rested lightly against your own. You watched as his pinkie brushed up over the back of your hand, then another finger, and another, and another, until his whole hand was on top of yours. You opened the spaces between your fingers in hopes that he would lace his own through, and you weren’t disappointed. His fingers slid between yours like butter and you felt him squeeze your palm and slowly caress the back of your hand with his thumb.

It was your idea to shuffle closer to him, lift his arm with your hands still intertwined, and loop it over your shoulder. He glanced over to you, smiled, and squeezed your hand again.

You wished you had picked a longer movie. Truthfully, so did he.

-----

The idea of kissing you was terrifying.

Spencer had kissed and been kissed before, but it wasn’t a common occurrence and it hadn’t ever been with someone he truly cared about. It was one thing for two body parts to come together in what science called a kiss, it was a whole other thing for that kiss to mean something. The last thing Spencer wanted was for him to screw up a potentially important moment in your relationship because he was hesitant or overly paranoid.

He also had no idea how to know when the “right” moment was, if there was such a thing. Hugging was easy now, holding your hand was routine - he could do those at really any time, in any location, in any circumstance, and it wouldn’t be considered awkward or weird - but kissing was different. It was intimate, it was private, and it required more thought.

It had taken him weeks, but he finally had a plan in mind. It was elaborate and detailed - as most of Spencer’s ideas were - and he knew exactly what he was going to say and do leading up to the moment.

However, what he wasn’t betting on was the sudden, overwhelming, spontaneous desire that came over him one evening while you were sitting in his apartment. You hadn’t been doing anything out of the ordinary; you had gone out to dinner, walked back to his place, and had plans to spend the rest of the night talking, maybe doing a puzzle or playing a game, and then you would go home like you always did.

But it was something about the way you laughed after he told you a funny story that happened at work that day. It was the way your eyes locked on his every time he spoke, and the way you looked so intensely interested in every single thing he was saying, even if you didn’t understand all of it. It was the way you leaned into him when he pointed out something in a book he was holding, and the way he could smell your shampoo - vanilla with a hint of lavender - when you got close to him. It was the way your hand rested lovingly on his back while he read a passage to you and the way you absentmindedly twirled your hair as you listened.

He needed to kiss you, and he needed to do it immediately.

He didn’t care that it didn’t fit into his plan, he didn’t care that it wasn’t exactly what he pictured, and he didn’t care that he hadn’t prepared himself for it. The only thing he could think of was the shape of your lips and his intense need to know what they felt like on his own.

So, he went for it.

It wasn’t slow, it wasn’t subtle, and it was probably the messiest thing he had ever done. He put the book down on the table, looked over at you, grabbed the sides of your face and pulled you to him. You were initially frozen in shock - the last thing you had expected that night was for Spencer to kiss you, let alone like this - but you could feel the intensity and desperation as his lips moved over yours, and that was enough to thaw your surprise and trigger your response instinct. You put one hand behind his head and pulled him impossibly closer to you, scooting to the very edge of your seat.

His hands dropped from your face and landed on the tops of your thighs before he slid them up to your waist and you could feel him start to tug you closer. There was nowhere for you to go other than practically on top of him, and you knew there was no way he wanted you to do that.

Was there?

As much as it pained you to do so, you momentarily broke the kiss to catch your breath.

“Wow.”

Spencer chuckled, still gripping your waist.

“Sorry,” he said, “I guess I just...couldn’t wait anymore.”

“Oh, don’t apologize!” you said, a little too enthusiastically. “It was great, and I wouldn’t have stopped you, it’s just...”

Spencer studied you, and brought one hand up to the side of your face again.

“Just, what?”

“It’s nothing, I guess I just wondered - I mean, I wasn’t sure how far you wanted to...you know...go. I don’t want you to feel like you need to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

Spencer smiled, and you felt him tug you closer again. You gave him a questioning look, and he nodded.

“C’mere,” he said. “It’s okay.”

You tentatively stood and took a step closer to him before he gently guided you down until you were straddling his lap. You exhaled a breath of nerves as you seated yourself and brought your hands up to rest on his shoulders.

“You don’t need to worry,” he said. “I’m not going to push things any further tonight. But, right now, I would really like to keep kissing you. It’ll help me get comfortable with it. Repetition of an action you’re uncomfortable with is proven to retrain your mind in how you view the action.”

You grinned. “Is that the only reason you’d like to keep kissing me? To prove a scientific fact?”

“It’s more like a psychological fact. You see, in moments of intense satisfaction or pleasure, the brain releases something called dopamine which causes -”

You didn’t give him a chance to finish before you leaned in and kissed him again.

The psychological facts could wait.

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#spencer reid #fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #fluff

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thedragonnerd · 4 years ago

Text

Fic: Love Languages

Headcanon suggested by a lovely anon, which spawned into a fic. Read on Ao3 or under the cut.

Words of affirmation

Receiving compliments or words of encouragement are not uncommon for Namaari. She has gone through life aiming to be the best at everything she does – the best leader, the best warrior, the best Princess – and along with her success come compliments on her fighting techniques, her decision-making skills, and even her ability to look formidable in her formal attire.

As royalty, people lavish her with praises when they see an opportunity to get into her good graces, despite the obvious lack of sincerity behind their words, and it tires her to deal with fawning citizens. She loves her people, but she’d rather they’d love her back truly; false words mean nothing.

Chief Virana does not give out compliments easily, and is often faster to critique than to encourage. Namaari pretends her mother’s approval is nothing more than something important to receive from her Chief, but in reality, she craves hearing soft words such as ‘well done, Morning Mist’, whenever she is lucky enough to have them bestowed upon her.

As she grows up, she decides that sweet words are nice to have, but ultimately unnecessary – nothing more than a nod of acknowledgement is needed, before one can place it aside and move on to more important things. And then Raya comes back into her life.

Raya, who can flirt endlessly with elaborate innuendos until Namaari rolls her eyes at her ridiculousness. Raya, who is quite happy to press herself closer than absolutely necessary in their sparring sessions, just to set out some unspoken physical challenge.

And yet, when it comes to providing a genuine compliment, Raya practically freezes.

‘I like…like your hair,’ she mumbles one day to Namaari, glancing off to the side in order to avoid making eye contact. Her cheeks are flushed bright red, even though earlier in the day she had made a lewd comment about a sword which didn’t even have her blinking.

For some reason, Raya’s lack of suaveness when it comes to providing true compliments delights Namaari, and she hoards each instance close to her heart, happy in the knowledge that every word spoken was genuine in its meaning.

In return, she starts to gift Raya with compliments of her own.

For Raya is not used to receiving compliments, at least not in a long time. Her Ba used to provide encouragement and compliments often, but that was many years ago, and now he hesitates to put them into words sometimes, unsure of how this new dynamic works when he’s looking at a grown-up daughter rather than a small child.

Namaari has no difficulty in sharing them though.

‘You look very beautiful today,’ she tells Raya softly one evening, when they are having dinner. Raya stammers out some incomprehensible response, and spends the rest of the meal staring down at her bowl, occasionally darting her eyes over to Namaari.

‘I love that hairstyle on you,’ Namaari says to her a few days later, watching as Raya braids her hair back with expert precision.

‘Umm…thanks?’ Raya squeaks.

‘Your techniques were excellent today,’ Namaari informs her after a sparring session. This time, Raya just nods, and clears her throat before trying to awkwardly change the subject. Namaari can still see the smile on her lips though.

Eventually, Raya becomes better at both giving and receiving words of affirmation. Namaari learns how true compliments can be more meaningful than expected.

It isn’t the most important aspect of their relationship, but they like to encourage each other all the same.

Acts of service

Raya sees how much of a burden Namaari perpetually takes onto her shoulders, in her duties for Fang. She is so focused on helping her people rebuild and expand, or going away on diplomatic missions to help form better relations with the other lands, that she forgets to take a moment to breath sometimes.

Raya wants to take some of her stress away, by helping her carry out some of her duties or at least be involved in organizing certain aspects of the expansion projects, but she discovers quickly that Namaari is somewhat of a perfectionist. It is almost more stressful for her to find herself out of the loop or uninformed about decisions, than it would be to allow her undertake the duties in the first place, and so Raya finds it more helpful to just back off from the work unless asked to provide support.

It’s also a way for Namaari to feel as if she is atoning for her past actions. Raya wishes she wouldn’t feel the need to do so, but it is something they’ve argued about before, and they always end up stuck in a perpetual loop.

One of the ways Raya can help however, is with her cooking.

Namaari is an awful cook (something Raya unfortunately discovers herself with one ill-fated meal), but she is fascinated by watching Raya conjure something up in the kitchen.

Gone are the days of living off jackfruit jerky; with so many fresh and interesting ingredients at her disposal, and with the occasional reminders from Ba when she is unsure about something, Raya makes a whole array of different foods over the months.

It’s one of the best ways of getting Namaari to relax, Raya finds. Every mealtime when Raya is behind the pot, Namaari will abandon whatever work she is doing, and will sit and watch Raya finish making the dishes. They’ll always eat it together, and for a short while, Raya can feel the stress lift free from Namaari as she laughs over Raya’s words and enjoys good food.

Gifts

The first gift Namaari ever gave Raya has almost become a symbol for their entire complicated history. It represents new friendship, betrayal, and after so many years…forgiveness and a fresh start.

Namaari gives it back to her not long after the return of Kumandra, before she can second-guess herself.

‘It was a gift,’ she says, half-expecting it to be thrown back in her face. But Raya runs her finger gently over the surface of the dragon pendant, and then sends her a small smile. The next day, Namaari sees it hanging around her neck once more.

Once they start dating properly, Namaari can’t get it out of her mind how much the gift seemed to mean to Raya, both times.

‘She still doesn’t have that many personal belongings,’ Namaari informs Sisu, as an explanation as to why she was forcing the dragon to accompany her around endless market stalls in Talon, looking for the perfect gift for Raya. ‘I figure it’s because she was on the move so much in life, she couldn’t carry a lot.’

Sisu makes an ‘mmm’ sound, clearly not buying her reasoning completely, but allows the topic to drop when she’s distracted by shiny objects at the next stall.

Namaari finds a small knife that can be strapped to a wrist and slipped up the sleeve. She knows how much Raya prefers to be carrying at least one weapon with her at all times, and this would be perfect for diplomatic meetings – subtle, and easy to hide. And indeed, Raya wears it continuously after receiving it as a gift.

On another visit to another market, this time in Spine, Namaari spies a comb with a beautifully carved handle.

‘For your hair,’ she says in an attempt to be casual, thrusting it awkwardly in Raya’s direction that evening. Raya loves it, and it is indeed used every night before bed to comb out her braids.

Every time Namaari has to travel on diplomatic missions, she now ensures that she brings back something small for Raya.

‘I love the gifts,’ Raya tells her one day. ‘But I love even more how it shows you’re thinking of me when you’re away.’

One evening, as they are getting ready for bed, a small golden ring drops out of Namaari’s pocket by mistake.

‘Is…is that my old hair band?’ Raya asks, peering over the side of the bed as Namaari scoops it up in a hurry. ‘I thought I’d lost that years ago.’

‘I found it,’ Namaari says defensively, clutching it tight in her fist. ‘I guess…I never asked you if you wanted it back?’

Raya shakes her head with a smile, but the following evening, she steps up behind Namaari, sliding her hand into her pocket. Namaari watches as she pulls out the hair band and threads it onto a small gold chain.

From then on, they both wear a gift from the other around their necks.

Physical touch

Sometimes, everything can become overwhelming, the past traumas so great that it seems suffocating. And in that darkness, sometimes the gentle touch of another is the only thing keeping the world grounded.

Raya goes six long years without receiving a hug. At the time, she doesn’t see it as a big deal – she’s grown up fast, and learnt that the world isn’t the welcoming place her father once hoped it could be. Even moreso, her Ba was the last one to hug her, and she doesn’t mind keeping it that way.

Now though, she finds comfort in the small touches. It’s in the featherlight way Namaari’s nose brushes against her neck as they curl up together in bed, waiting for the morning sun to rise. It’s in the gentle trail of Namaari’s fingers across her back, as they stand talking to others, and Namaari absentmindedly reaches out for her. It’s in the soft kiss against her temple, when Namaari has to go back to work after lunch.

Occasionally, she will need to be encompassed by that comfort, and in this moment, she will go and find Namaari, stepping closer until her forehead rests on her shoulder. No matter what she was previously doing, Namaari will pause everything, wrapping her arms tightly around Raya, and they stand there until Raya can feel as if she can breathe again.

Namaari has a habit of falling too far into her own mind sometimes. She is an outwardly composed and pragmatic individual, but internally, all sorts of doubts and guilt still plague her, and there are days where she can’t shake off the feeling that she isn’t doing enough in her life to atone for her past, or that she is a fraud who has no right in stepping up and trying to lead her people when her previous actions cost them so much.

It’s difficult for her to ask for help in these moments. Raya learns instead to notice the signs of a bad day, or whenever Namaari gets trapped into a downwards spiral, and she will take Namaari by the hands and sit them somewhere quiet.

There they can actually talk, and sometimes Namaari feels comfortable enough to share her fears. But the most important thing, Raya finds, is to slide an arm around her shoulders, pulling her in tight and peppering her cheek and bare shoulder with small kisses.

Raya refuses to let her go until she sees at least one small smile.

Quality time

In the early days of the relationship, there is still so much separation between the two of them. Raya is in Heart, helping her Ba welcome back everyone to their lands, fixing up the buildings, ensuring the harvest gets started…There are so many jobs to do, and Raya knows Namaari is undergoing the same issues back in Fang, coupled with an expansion of their kingdom.

On top of all of this, there are endless council meetings and diplomatic missions, so if it isn’t Namaari being busy with politics, it is Raya, much to her annoyance.

Whenever they do get to spend time together, they ensure no minute is wasted. They have meals together, and spar together, and find all sorts of random ways to entertain themselves. Namaari loves to go out in the evenings and watch the night sky, attempting to teach the constellations to Raya; but Raya decides that these constellations are ridiculous, and so they create their own. Raya meanwhile loves to go for hikes in the woods, dragging Namaari along to discover new plants and wildlife, and occasionally climbing the trees.

They both love to sit in bed next to each other, quietly reading their books, or discussing their day. Sometimes, Raya will lie sideways on the bed, her stomach across Namaari’s legs and her arms hanging over the edge, so she can carve pieces of wood into intricate shapes, with Namaari reads out loud for the both of them.

Even after several years, and living together permanently, Raya finds herself reflecting on the fact that she never gets bored as long as she’s with Namaari.

They are currently lying in a field somewhere in the depths of Heart land, enjoying the sun shining onto their faces and the grass tickling their skin. She lazily wiggles her hand until it makes contact with Namaari.

‘Dep la?’ Raya whispers, and Namaari grunts in response. ‘You don’t get bored with me, right?’

Namaari merely shuffles closer without even opening an eye, resting her cheek against Raya’s shoulder.

‘Don’t be stupid,’ she mumbles, and she’s curled up so close that Raya can feel the vibrations of her voice on her skin.

‘Didn’t think so,’ Raya says in satisfaction. They continue to enjoy the peace.

#rayaari #raya and the last dragon #raya and namaari #ratld #raya #namaari #rayaari fic #rayamaari #this was supposed to be a headcanon #but it all was just like 'hello must get out of the brain'#some fluff to keep you guys happy #while i work on the concept au angst

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godofsexdrugsandrocknroll · 4 years ago

Note

Kali took Blake's hentai out of her room and is now openly watching it in the living room, with Blake and other people still in the house.

The point where Kali should feel ashamed of what she’d done? Come and past - probably right around the time that the animated wolf faunus with the light gray hair, gray wolf ears and large, equally light gray eyes tried to speak around the length of cock pistoning in her mouth with little regard to the fact that this was the woman’s mouth and not, in fact, the pussy, that the human male was pounding relentlessly with spit flying everywhere.

“Iff shfo glurff muffar!” Indeed.

But truly, who could blame her? After years of dealing with her daughters absence, suddenly having Blake willing to live with them was a new experience and one she probably wasn’t dealing the best with. After all, most mothers wouldn’t dream of snooping the way she did. But for all that Blake Belladonna, one of the eight 24 year old “Heroes of Remnant”, inspired awe and hope in the people of Remnant and even more in the faunus community, well...Kali remembered the little girl who’d once seen a package of fruit snacks with red gummy fish, promptly ripped it open and devoured the bag before rolling on the floor, spitting chunks of the fruity treat while disgustedly proclaiming “cherry flavored!” over and over again.

Charismatic, impassioned leader of the Faunus Civil Rights Coalition or not, there was a distance between mother and daughter created by the latter’s 12 year absence in her mothers life.

They tried of course, but Blake was used to her freedom and Kali was a creature of habit, perpetually uncaring of what many called “the line” but still desperately trying to reconnect with her daughter.

So the fact that Kali scoped out the usual spots for teenage contraband when she cleaned her daughters room really shouldn’t come as a surprise. Ghira certainly hadn’t been when Kali had, giggly as she approached, revealed the contents of a lock box Blake hid under piles of increasingly tiny and intricate undergarments. Granted it was just old photos of them together, a cheap plastic ring with a cartoonish lion heard stretching down to the knuckle and pieces of fabric that smelled of the two of them rather than anything else, but it was the thought that mattered.

She of course neglected to mention to Ghira where she had found it, amidst of a sea of panties, thongs and even a g-string or two. Where she was curious, Ghira would have been ill.

So she’d kept snooping, impressed not just at the collection of underthings her daughter owned (and very amused that her own predilection for the sexier, the better had been passed onto Blake), but at the false bottom that had been discovered and...well, novelty might be the right word for things like the crotchless panties she found there.

Then she’d found other things. A collection of muscle magazines hidden carefully behind a dresser that had seen use judging by the crinkled paper, but not recently given the finger shaped spots on the otherwise dusty covers. Lube carefully stacked behind her books.

A chest full of devices, from dildos to wands to toys and more than a few strap ons. And while Kali was surprised at the amount, she was less so when she remembered that her daughter was in a relationship with a rather...well, the polite term would be ‘generously well endowed’ blonde who was openly vulgar about what the two of them got up to behind doors; when it was just Yang (said blonde) and Blake, in what they thought was the privacy of an empty room.

The collection of nearly three dozen cases advertising Mistralian hentai hidden in a crawl space however had thrown Kali for a loop. And, well, you know what they say about curiosity and cats.

And so Kali stared wide eyed at the covers depicting cutesy anime girls, most of them faunus, in various poses and stages of undress. There was Faunus Fuck Frenzy, vol. 32 - where apparently three faunus best friends were captured in a jungle and fucked into full blown ahegao faces by tribal looking, human natives if the cover was anything to go by.

Watashi no kōkō no tōnamentoāku - a dog faunus with short brown hair, floppy bloodhound ears and breasts the size of beach balls in nothing but a pair of spandex shorts and biceps, abs that were intimidating in their intensity...but was covered forehead to navel in semen, the bodies of unconscious teenage boys and their cocks of varying size left defeated on the ground in the cover’s background.

Others, too. One where the blue haired bluebird faunus was a loli and surrounded by leering men. Another where a golden haired, golden eyed snake faunus had her faunus feature, her exceptionally long forked tongue, wrapped around a penis that was closer to the size of arm and was bulging with veins with her curvaceous body on all fours. A bushy tailed squirrel faunus bound, gagged in a contortionist’s nightmare with the shadow of a grinning man behind her.

By the time Kali saw it - it being what she was watching now, a lonely single faunus mother checking out a sex club while her children were being babysat - it was too late. Blake had arrived with her girlfriend Yang, Kali’s personal assistant, the ex-terrorist Ilia, Yang’s sister Ruby and her not-a-boyfriend Oscar Pine and the blonde, suit clad boyfriend of the Schnee heiress, Jaune Arc.

So Kali had used the kind of speed that made her a popular choice for stealth missions back when she was in the White Fang and put every single case back in the crawlspace and had all but teleported into the living room, smiling and nodding as Blake mentioned that the group was going to go discuss something-something-faunus-something-something-SDC-something-something-if-you’d-make-us-some-dinner-that-would-be-lovely-thank-you-love-you-bye.

Kali’s breathing had returned to normal even if her heart still pounded and she’d pulled Amongst Sheep from behind her back and stared at the lonely MILF, stunned at her daughter’s kinkiness. There’d been exactly 41 films in the crawlspace and aside from the muscular bloodhound faunus who’d apparently fucked her way through at least 11 different teenage boys to claim some sort of victory, each and every cover seemed to depict faunus getting dicked down by human males. Or the occasional female, sometimes simply female and other times with a dick dangling between their thighs. The faunus in question seemed to love it and almost seemed subservient to the ones doing the fucking.

While Kali was amused at her daughters apparent kink especially in light of her place as a faunus rights spokeswoman of great fame, there was a much larger problem. Staring at them all had made her unquestionably horny to the point of wetness. But Blake, her girlfriend and her friends were home. Ghira was in the kitchen just two rooms away, making a large meal for their guests happily after she asked him to do so. There were workers in the back of the house, rebuilding their back wall after Ghira had hip tossed an assassin of the rapidly dwindling White Fang remnants through it last week.

A reasonable, sane woman would have hid it and enjoyed it in the privacy of her own room later that night. Maybe give Ghira a ride while she watched it after convincing him she rented it over the scrollnet for added fun. But the idea of watching it in her living room, a living room that was open to all of the house with no doors, her husband far enough away to know she was watching something but not what and her daughter, her friends only a single floor up? With her room right above the living room?

The disc was in, Kali’s legs were spread after removing her hakama and her modest breasts were exposed to the warm air, her fingers immediately tracing her slick folds.

The plot had gone from 0 to 60 in what seemed like record time (but was probably only 20 minutes or so), the mother surrounded by horny human men while her fellow faunus were in various poses of submission. The mother partaking in the orgy and rapidly spiraling from a stereotypically sweet woman with the kind of body only art could give, to a sex crazed lunatic thanking her “master” for fucking her mouth even as her makeup ran, her dump truck of a rear was being molested by a faceless human behind her and her gargantuan tits bounced from the force of the careless facefucking all while she squealed, even as the humans made crude and rather disparaging remarks about faunus women.

Ghira: [From the kitchen] Enjoying yourself, dear?

Kali’s breath hitched as her fingers pushed in deep and she grinned, curling them as a jolt ran up her spine as the wolf faunus - Lupa, she remembered - squealed once more, her cheeks puffing out like a chipmunks at the deluge of jizz firing impossibly from the human.

Kali: Oh of course, darling! There’s a program about human-faunus interactions that’s just fascinating!

She heard no response but could practically hear her husbands indulgent chuckle. As Lupa now hoarsely begged for the man who’d been fucking her mouth to “shut his stupid dog right back up!” the floor creaked and someone moved around a bit. Kali bit her lip, eyes catching the closed window and the worker carrying tools by. Her left hand had since been massaging her right tit for some time now and she tweaked the brownish nipple on her olive skinned titty, moaning harshly as Lupa suddenly screeched! The man who’d been squeezing her cheeks had pushed her face down into a puddle of spit and spunk and forced himself in an ass that not even she could compete with! She watched as the warbling moans of the anime MILF grew in intensity.

Kali: [Sputtering] And now we’re even getting to see a faunus tribe and how they survived in the Grimmlands!

Ghira: [From the kitchen] That’s nice dear.

Kali: So nice! Really Ghira, you would not believe some of their customs!

Or her own, at this point throwing any concern of being caught out of her mind. The floor had creaked as if someone had tossed themselves on Blake’s bed, likely Blake herself after hashing out a particularly tough point. The thought of Ghira finding her was exciting, of her husband’s disbelief that she’d be so bold. One of the workers? Well, Ghira would likely punish her for giving them such a show but the idea of teasing them so cruelly, knowing that they would remember this for quite some time but never be able to do more than furiously jack their cocks off to the memory of it and just how hard Ghira would give it to her, pushing her face in a pillow as he flattened her exceptional cheeks with his angry downstrokes. Blake and her friends? As a third finger entered her lightly squelching pussy - as Lupa followed an order and lapped up at the puddle as her nearly yoga ball sized cheeks rippled in constant motion - and her palm started slapping against her clit, she squealed at the sudden increase in pleasure.

Blake would be beyond humiliated. At her shameless mother, at her own filthy little secret being discovered by anyone other than perhaps Yang. Not to mention that both Oscar and Jaune would commit this site to their memory banks, perhaps even as their flush faced friends lambasted them for their obvious erections!

The floor creaked more, as if they were moving and Kali twisted her nipple, watching as the MILF on screen started wailing from the anal assault, the man having both hands in her grey hair and pulling her head back. As the animation gave way to the light grey eyes rolling towards her nose as her tongue flopped out, Lupa’s face got steadily redder. In return Kali gasped at the mixture of pleasure and pain coming from her right tit, using her left hand to awkwardly do the same to her left and moaning as a shadow passed the window behind their television.

Ghira: [From the kitchen] Dear? Is something wrong?

Kali couldn’t help it. The thought of being caught was too good, the knowledge that this was what her daughter liked - something so disrespectful, base and diametrically opposed to her own beliefs - and the way she was handling her own body made her let out a louder groan.

Lupa: [Television] “...myself that day, lost the woman who put her children first... to big. Fat. Yummy. Human. COCK!!!! AIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!”

Kali: Oh no, Ghira! Just a quote from another bigot!

Kali’s fingers were now a blur, an eye on the window where no worker stood and an ear on her husbands response, the sound of a load of cum being pumped into an animated faunus whose face showed no signs of intellgence as a faceless human filled her anus with his release, squeezing each asscheek so aggressively he was clearly holding booty fat between his hands.

Ghira: [From the kitchen] You know how it is, freedom of speech. Is it at least handled...

She knew what he meant. Is the documentary at least attacking the negative opinion, showing how wrong it is?

Lupa: [Television] “--aaauuuuuwwwwsho good~” [giggling drunkenly]

She was close. Her heels clunked lightly against the table in front of her couch as she adjusted her legs, opening them wider as she now alternated between full thrusts and thumbing the clit, beneath her thick patch of black pubic hair. The scene changed several times, to Lupa’s ankles and wrists bound as a man pumped her full of cum. Another where a group of university aged humans were busily raining down an amount of cum only possible in hentai as Lupa serviced two cocks, one with her mouth and the other with her hand. A married couple sandwiching Lupa between them with Lupa’s cheeks being squished by the human taking her in doggy, excess ass fat bunching up as Lupa screamed into the man’s wife, her hairy human cunt. Another where Lupa sat on the counter of a sandwhich shop as an older, balding man stood between her legs as her eyes fluttered and the slick sound of her sex, of unexpected squirting. One final scene showing Lupa lying upon her shoulders, legs spread in a perfect split as a muscled man fucked down into her as she screamed “Master!” over and over.

To a final scene where a school bus pulled away and Lupa, in a white turtleneck and nothing more, leaned around a corner and had a warm, motherly smile on her face.

Kali: [Strained] Absolutely, Ghira!

Her palm made heavy clopping noises as she fingerblasted herself to that warm motherly smile staying in place...but only because it had frozen there, drool leaking from the corners of Lupa’s mouth as her eyes were all but rolled back in her skull as a random human steadily slammed into her from behind, the only sounds being the wolf’s cheeks clapping and the wet plap! of semen pouring from her currently-being-fucked pussy.

Human: [Television] Take it all, Ms. Lupa!

And then the abnornal sound of jizz being pumped into the drooling faunus and her dripping pussy, Lupa’s eyes gone pure white as they rolled back into her skull and an overlay of the action inside her happening; a sea of thick white swirling inside her and then a flash of light from an egg indicating pregnancy.

Between the two workers clearly arguing over tools outside their window but clearly not seeing her, being in conversation with Ghira and the threat of being found out, Kali felt it build.

Several things happened at once. Lupa showed up on the screen staring down at a human baby with brown hair and her eyes, before turning away smiling softly. She entered a room where an unfamiliar human sat on her bed, a member that nearly reached his own chest pointing towards the ceiling. Lupa dropped to all fours and fastened a chain to a black leather collar she was wearing, muttering “master” over and over again as she crawled forth.

Kali scraped three fingers against her g-spot and ground her palm against her clit and exploded in release.

Kali: No doubt, it’s marvelously done!

Her pitch considerably higher as she lost her fingers to the repeatedly clenching hole, knees shaking as her orgasm crashed through her like waves upon the beach.

Blake: [Shocked] Mo-ther! [Strangled] No Yang, don’t look!

Ruby: [Stammering] Y-y-y-you either, O-oscar!

Ilia: Why must the world be so cruel!?

Jaune: Mad that another hot cat faunus is taken?

Blake: [Squeals] Jaune!

Ilia: Yes!

Blake: [Squeaks] Ilia!

Yang: I mean, can you blame ‘em? I can see where you got it from, babe.

Blake: [Squeaks, chokes, growls] Stopitstopitstopit!

Jaune: [To Ilia] Same.

Blake: Butwhatno--NO! You have Weiss!

Jaune: Appreciating the view is not cheating.

Ruby: Yes it is!

Jaune: I am happy in my relationship with my fiancée. I will never cheat on my fiancée but I have no control over Blake’s mom fingerbanging herself to...whoa.

Yang: [To Blake] Heh, told you it was a bad idea to keep those here! Ooh, is that Amongst Sheep!? [Respectfully] She’s got good taste.

Oscar: Blake watches hentai?

Ruby: A-ack! Y-y-you saw!? Dammit Oscar!

Ilia: [Fumbling]

Blake: Wha-no-it’snot--

Kali breathed heavily, removing her digits from her pussy and feeling much better and with a glance at her sticky fingers, cleaned them with a quick schlup! of a noise.

Blake: AAAHH! Mother, no!

Kali: [Exhausted] Sorry sweetheart. But that collection of yours, oh my.

Jaune: [To Ruby] Okay, now I’m feeling a little guilty.

Ruby: You should!

Ilia: [Stops fumbling] Collection? She has more?

Blake: Moth--

Kali: Over forty.

Ilia: And they’re all... [gestures]

Kali: Except for one with a female dog faunus.

Yang: That’s mine. [Blake screeches in horror] Blake wanted me to ‘expand my horizons’ or something. I think Blakey just wanted me to be a perv too.

Oscar: Wait. Dog faunus? Watashi no kōkō no tōnamentoāku with Tawni Bumpus as Rei-chan’s seiyuu?

Yang: Heh. Yeah, you’ve seen it?

Ruby: Wha--

Oscar: Have you seen Tawni Bumpus?

Jaune: And now I’m uncomfortable.

Yang: Chow-Chow faunus, right?

Oscar: Yup. She’s -- a-ah... [trails off in embarassment and fear for his life at Ruby’s glare]

Yang: [Snorts] Has an ass that makes the Bellabooty look like Weiss in comparison?

Jaune: [Eyes narrow] I’m letting her know you said that, top heavy.

Yang: [Flinches, irritated] I’m sending you a picture of her. She’s got cake for days, Arc.

Oscar: Well, a-ah, the point is Tawni is very p-pretty [panics] b-b-but not as pretty as Ruby and she really does have a captivating voice.

Jaune: [Staring squintily at Yang, speaks at Oscar] Riii~iight.

Blake: Alright, stop! No more talking about my porn!

Ruby: Ah, so the degenerate admits it!

Ilia: Huh. I mean I can see Yang, maybe. But Blake?

Yang: One, rude. Two, it’s a power dynamic thing. She doesn’t really want to be treated like an animal and collared by humans all the time, but sometimes she’s in the mood and I’ll put on the strap and the things that’llmmmphh!!!

Blake: [Hands on Yang’s mouth, panting, red faced] No. More.

Kali: [Covering her chest back up, crosses legs] Dear, it’s perfectly understandable. You’re a powerful young woman with not just skill unmatched in the sword but your Shadow Clones were key in your final battle with Salem! It’s perfectly understandable wanting to surrender yourself to a strong girl like Yang! You trust her and really, Lupa’s descent into a plaything was as masterfully done as it was--

Blake then ran away screaming, hands over her face and seconds later a door slammed. Yang winces.

Kali: Perhaps that was a bit too much for her.

Ruby: [Eyes narrowed] She just discovered her mom’s a superfreak.

Kali opened her mouth, saw that despite the time passed that both Oscar and Jaune were not looking directly at her and were both at full mast. Ilia was quietly cursing at her scroll phone, which the chameleon had been aiming in her direction prior to making herself decent. Clearly cursing her poor reaction time and missing a photo op.

Kali: Hmm. I suppose that might be a fair assessment.

Ruby: [Angles her body to hide Oscar’s boner] You got problems, lady.

Kali gave a nonchalant shrug, still feeling too good to give 100% to caring.

Jaune: [Claps hands] Well, not that this hasn’t been just a blast, but I think I should go tell Weiss exactly what happened here before somebody [glares at Ruby who glares back] texts her.

Yang: [Scratching her head, staring at the stairs] Heh, you just want Weiss to “punish” you. Never met a guy so ready for a girl standing five foot nothing to take him to poundtown in the Amazon position.

Jaune: [Reddens] Then clearly you have no idea how hot Weiss is when she’s mad.

Yang: [Blinks] Huh. All that time spent around Nora and me’s doing you good, Jaune.

Jaune said nothing and turned away. Oscar was trying to engage a depressed Ilia in conversation while avoiding Ruby’s death glare, the reaper herself irritated at her “not-a-boyfriend” being a pervert. Yang stood contemplating how to handle Blake and Kali just sighed, uncrossing her legs and wincing at the stickiness and the slight sound of it as she stood. As she clapped her hands lightly, intending to try and make this better, it happened. A platter of spaghetti and meatballs hit the floor.

Ghira: What in the garlic-oregano-noodley fuck is going on here!?

The room froze. Kali gave her husband a sheepish little smile, standing with her kimono top done up poorly and missing her hakama pants, shapely legs on display. Ilia had reaimed her phone at Kali’s legs even as Oscar had a hand up to block the view, his other over his stiffy. Yang’s mouth hung open in shock and Jaune had frozen, his own hands dropping to hide evidence of his own hard on. His daughter was conspicuously absent.

The most damning thing was the menu screen on the teleivsion, showing clips of Mistralian hentai that wasn’t exactly kind to faunus. Jaune spoke first.

Jaune: [Urgently] Yeet me out the house Xiao Long and I won’t tell Weiss about the crack you made on her ass!

A flash of white aura protecting the Arc occurred and Yang grabbed him by the arm and threw him through the wall. Ruby grabbed Oscar’s hand at the same time and the two disappeared into a swirl of roses out the same hole, a distant “ouch” being heard as they likely collided with Jaune. Yang was halfway up the stairs and Ilia stood frozen, scroll aimed at Kali’s legs. Ghira glared and Ilia eeped. She glanced at Kali who gave a smirk that was unapologetic and much to Ilia’s dismay, sexy.

Kali: It’s exactly what it looks like, darling. [Purrs] Is my big strong husband going to spank his naughty wife?

Ilia’s scream of terror was muffled as Ghira’s hand clasped around her face and then faded into the distance as she was chucked from the Belladonna household.

Jaune: [Barely audible] Dammit, stop running into me! Respect the healer!

Ilia: [Barely audible groaning]

Ghira: You will explain yourself, wife.

Kali: [Flutters eyelashes, purposely ignores him] Will you promise to spank me if I don’t?

Ghira growled, angry at the situation but knowing he’d get nothing out of her now and with a grunt, threw his laughing wife over his shoulder and stomped grumpily to his room. Really, he loved this woman to pieces but why did she find it so enjoyable to test his every last nerve!? He ignored the frantic sound of what sounded like his daughter opening her secound floor window and muttering something about “not again” and threw his smirking wife on the bed, growling as he ripped his armor, his clothing off.

On the ground floor, a rhino faunus and his crocodile faunus friend gaped at the hole in the front of the house.

Rhino Faunus: Oh, what in the actual shit is this!?

Crocodile Faunus: Rich people, man. Rich people.

#rwby #smut #kali belladonna #ghira belladonna #blake belladonna #yang xiao long #ruby rose #oscar pine #ilia amitola #jaune arc #this is what happens when you let a drunk type #what's crack-a-lackin'#idek #a christmas story

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dadsbongos · 4 years ago

Text

Liebeskummer

Movie/Game/Show: Danganronpa: Killing Harmony Dynamic: Korekiyo Shinguji/Reader (and his sister shit but i actually take it seriously, unlike kodaka) Warnings: korekiyo’s backstory/trauma (his sister), sexual/physical/mental abuse implications (and outright said but not described in detail except the emotional and mental), anxiety in both kork and reader and mental breakdown(s?), airhead shit but it’s sad Summary: It’s all her fault. ~~~

Korekiyo suddenly turned to the girl beside him in his quiet research lab, “Have you ever heard of Jack of Fables, (Y/n)?” at her, albeit confused, nod, he continued, “Well, all those myths, fairy tales, and even nursery rhymes in reference to ‘Jack’ are actually about the same man. What this means is that Jack Be Nimble, of the candlestick, Jack the Giant Killer, who sold his cows then murdered and robbed a giant, Stingy Jack, who tricked the devil so relentlessly that he was banned from both afterlives, Jack of Jack and Jill, who cracked open his skull, Jack o’ Lantern, Spirit of Halloween and Headless Horseman, and Jack Frost, Spirit who ends autumn and begins winter are all one in the same. He made so many poor life decisions that he now serves as an immortal representation of winer with a pumpkin serving as head and flashlight. Is that not fascinating?”

“Aw,” (Y/n) grinned, nodding once again, “Like the American ‘Florida man’.”

Korekiyo sighed, disappointment palpable in his tone, “That is… actually much more accurate than I wish to admit.”

“Wait, wait,” she tilted her head, patting the man’s arm despite his attention already being on her, “So… like, was he also Jack the Ripper…?”

His eyes widened at her statement, “(Y/n), I must be grateful you were not born to the life of a woman of the night in Victorian London because I assure you, Jack the Ripper was incredibly real.”

“Oh, that’s so sad…” she pouted before clearing it back into her usual smile almost instantly, “Well, thanks for the folklore fun fact, Kiyo! I didn’t know that Jack was so dumb! God, I’d hate to be like him…”

“You do realize you’re not so bright yourself, yes?”

She shrugged, “I’m fine with that, but at least I’m not tricking the devil!”

So sweet and kind, the Ultimate Composer was. Against all expectations, she wasn’t highbrow or traditionally genius, but she was more than excellent company. And, to top it off, the idea of turning her into one of Sister’s friends was oddly… sickening.

It should’ve been perfectly fine - she was a deeply respectable young woman unlike Miu and Maki, there’s no reason he could have against her.

It just felt wrong.

“Oh! Oh!” she burst out, clapping her hands together, before turning and reaching into a bag slung around her hip. Rooting through scrapped sheet music and notes, once she found what she’d been searching for she held it up excitedly, “Boom!”

Korekiyo took the item, just barely brushing his wrapped fingertips against hers, “Cleopatra’s Pearl Cocktail… much appreciated,” he pressed the small bottle into a pocket on his uniform, “If you enjoy giving gifts, perhaps we can discuss cultural gift-giving practices?”

“Ooh, Kiyo’s gonna teach me?”

“Hmm,” Korekiyo hummed quietly to himself, “Well, perhaps… you would prefer I tell you of a composition piece in relevance to mythology, yes?”

“That’d be nice,” the girl giggled softly, rubbing the back of her neck, “To be honest, I just like when you talk… you sound so smart all the time!”

“My thanks, (Y/n),” he nodded curtly, muttering to himself before coming to speak up, “Alright, I believe that the composition for you would be The Ring of the Nibelung, of Germany.”

“Oh, I know that one!” she knew most ‘ones’, to be fair.

“I had suspected so, but have you heard of the heroic legends behind the pieces?”

“Ah, no… are those what you’re gonna explain?”

“I had planned to, yes. Alright, well, the four parts, as you know, are The Rhinegold, The Valkyrie, Siegfried, and Twilight of the Gods. Nowadays, they are most commonly played as individual, separate works despite making one complete story. They were always intended as a sequence - as The Ring cycle, cleverly. Each piece revolves on a loose basis to German heroic tales and Norse legendary sagas, with the overarching tale of the magic ring forged by the Nibelung dwarf, Alberich, which grants the power to rule the world,” he paused at the sight of (Y/n) yawning, his lips pursed and eyes shot down to his shoes before flickering back up to the girl, “Ah, my apologies for taking far longer than necessary. You must find this- “

“Ah, no!” (Y/n) shook her head, waving her hands about as though it would physically prove how far from needed his apology was, “That’s not it! I’m just kinda tired, ya know?” as if to prove her point, another yawn washed over her, “I hadn’t slept well last night after Kirumi…”

“I see,” Korekiyo nodded, closing his eyes to think over his words, “I apologize for making it about myself. If you wish, I could walk you to your dormitory. Now that you mention it, it has been quite the long day.”

“You don’t have to, Kiyo, I’d hate to bother you so much in one day let alone one sitting,” the composer puffed her cheeks out, “That’d be so obnoxious…”

“I don’t find it obnoxious whatsoever, especially if it’s to aid- “ he hesitated, “to aid a friend.”

He hadn’t had friends before. People usually found him creepy and that was the end of the story - nobody approached him and he didn’t branch out. Life went on. The world spun. His loneliness was everlasting and yet nonexistent. He has Sister. Though, deep down, he knows. She’s on another plane of reality with loneliness stronger than his, that’s why he sends her respectable young women.

Just like (Y/n).

But just… not (Y/n). For reasons he personally chooses to not disclose to even himself.

“Aww, Kiyo! You care!” the girl placed a hand over her heart as if to show that the organ itself was squeezing in delight at his offer.

“Of course, I do,” Korekiyo didn’t like how quiet she made him. How jittery and nervous. And he didn’t like how it made him question the way Sister made him feel.

She also made him nervous but it felt different. He liked to pretend it was the nervousness of a love you don’t quite have yet, but he fully knows he’d be lying. She was a mean girl, a bully in school before being hospitalized. Prone to violent and outright frightening outbursts when she had the energy to do more than force him to her side.

But he didn’t like questioning those feelings for Sister. Who he was, was based on her. His uniform. His passion and talent. His hair. His perfect complexion. His life as the universe knows it is an ode to her.

It’s too late for him to go back now… he’s already done so much in her name it’d be cruel to give up now. He might as well continue for Sister.

“If you really don’t mind, then yeah, I’d like it if we could walk together… I get a little nervous going around at night, you never know who’s gonna snap…”

“And you trust me?”

Shit. That’s what gets him in trouble. It’s as Sister always said. ‘Too naive to make his choices, and once he’s free, too inept to make the right ones.’

“Well, yeah,” (Y/n) spoke as if there was hardly any thought to the answer, “All you’ve shown me is somebody worth trusting,” then, she’s quick to remember poor Kaede, “Well, maybe I’m being silly. But hey, if I have to choose between dying trusting my friends and paranoid beyond myself, then maybe I’d- “ she paused, “Ehhh, I don’t like the way that’s coming out.”

“I understand what you’re attempting to say,” Korekiyo reassured, turning towards his research lab’s exit, “Let us start towards the dormitories, yes?”

“Right!” (Y/n) nearly found herself jogging to catch up to Korekiyo’s long-strided head start, she clutched the strap of her bag as she did so, “So… you heard about Angie’s plan, right?”

“To perform a resurrection?”

“Do you think it’ll work?” she seemed antsier than was typical for her, “I mean, you’re into anthropology, so, like, has there ever been a case where that did work? Do you know?”

“No, besides, that would be more akin to history, remember?” she probably didn’t, her memory failed her at an ungodly amalgamation of best and worst of times.

“Oh, yeah,” she murmured and nodded, pretending to recall the difference between the two.

“Who would you desire back into this game, if you could?”

“Rantaro,” her answer was quick, her fingers looping together nervously, “We didn’t really talk much, but uhm, whenever we did - he was really nice. He said I reminded him of a sister of his… so that’s a good thing, right?”

Depends on who you ask, really.

“You grew attached to him so quickly?” there was no jealousy there, he tried to convince himself.

“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t wish I’d gotten to know him more. He was always running around, trying to save us, and in the end… it got him killed.”

A lot of things will get you killed.

Korekiyo shook off the thoughts racking his brain, “Your care for him even through his estrangedness and peculiarity is truly beautiful, (Y/n),” he fiddled with the locket piece hanging around his shoulders, “Even your care for myself. I’d be lying if I’d said it wasn’t endearing.”

“You’re not…” her words died out, not wanting to lie to a dear companion of hers, “You’re a little off-putting but you’re not undeserving of love, Kiyo.”

It was a complete 180 from what Sister had told him his entire life. A new lesson coming in far too late. He had to earn love. He should’ve been crawling on his knees and pleading for affection, but now he was supposed to simply receive it? It sounded so incredibly fake. A fictitious tale told alongside gumdrop fairies and candy trees.

No place for someone of realistic standard.

No place for him.

“You’re far too kind, (Y/n).”

“Maybe you just haven’t known nice people,” she suddenly stopped, slapping a palm to her mouth and muffling against it, “I’m so sorry!”

“Worry not,” Korekiyo continued walking, “I’m unphased.”

Because maybe it was true.

Maybe Sister wasn’t so nice.

There was an itch at his skin in the thought and he shook his head.

Sister was kind enough to love someone like him. Who was of rotted soul and rancid heart.

“I shouldn’t have just said that, especially since I don’t really know your life…”

“Would you like to learn it someday?”

(Y/n) was fairly shocked at how quickly he seemed to breeze by her insult to his family and friends - well, if he had any friends - but she wouldn’t refuse. It was extra time with Korekiyo! Who could turn that down?

“I’d love to.”

“Tea and cookies,” (Y/n) pumped a fist in the air, “What could be better than enjoying those with a friend?”

Korekiyo felt his lips twitch up behind his mask at the rhetorical question, he reached out for his teacup, “Perhaps freedom from this killing game?”

“Oh, yeah, huh…” she deflated, “Jeez, I can’t believe I’d say that…”

Oh, great, of course, now he’s gone and made the local ball of sunshine in this school upset.

“Nevermind that, (Y/n), it was a tease…” he gripped the cup a little tighter, cheeks heating up in humiliation at his failed joke, “I apologize if it seemed like anything other than such.”

“No, don’t apologize, it’s fine! It was kind of a dumb thing to say, now that I put some brain into it,” so it made sense she’d said it, (Y/n) frowned at the bitter thought.

“Ah,” the clink of a cup against the table caught the girl’s attention, “I must change my mask in order to properly enjoy this tea and these cookies,” as the anthropologist went to turn, he was stopped by another outburst from the girl.

“No, don’t! Uh, here!” she clenched her eyes shut, papped her palms over her face, and turned her head downwards, “See? Now I can’t!”

“You don’t have to go to such lengths, I could simply turn- “

“No, no, I want you to feel comfortable and I heard once that doing things to make your friends comfortable is, like, a way to make them like you more?” she huffed at the wording, “Just, I don’t know… I want you to know that I care. Ya get it? No need to turn yourself away like that when I can just not look.”

A tuft of air passed through his nostrils at the girl.

Sister would adore a friend like her.

Korekiyo pulled down his mask, brows drawn tight towards his eyes at the new realization. It was no longer a matter of her being respectable, it was now the knowledge that someone as tender-hearted as (Y/n) would be loved beyond comprehension by Sister.

But… no. Sister couldn’t have her. She’d understand, right? Of course. She could have someone else - the other bubbly girl, what’s her name? Angie. She could have Angie.

Korekiyo just… he just needed (Y/n). Something about her was calming and sweet. He picked his mask for eating from a pocket in his uniform and carefully adjusted it over his lips so as to not smudge his lipstick. It wouldn’t anyway, he knew this, but it usually never backfired to be too sure.

The lipstick in itself was quite the hassle. Another homage to Sister that she might not even be seeing. So was the hair. It got tangled and knotted and was hell to dry after a shower.

“Not to rush you at all, but are you done? Cuz my eyes are starting to hurt… I think I’m squeezing them too hard.”

“Right, yes, I am.”

He really shouldn’t think like that… Sister deserved to be honored.

As if she’d been reading his mind, (Y/n) leaned over slightly, pointing at Korekiyo’s hair, “Hey, hey, how do you manage that? It always looks so silky and soft and well-kept.”

“Ah, well, it is quite troublesome most days, but with patience and rather expensive products, I keep it together.”

“I was wondering, too, do you ever put it up?”

“Not usually, though, that would be… nice on occasion,” he sipped at his tea, enjoying the way (Y/n) shyly glanced away to prove she didn’t want to invade his privacy. She was too delightful to be in a place such as this, even if he did enjoy the beauties of law-absence.

“Uh, I don’t want to come off pushy or like you have to let me, but if you want, I’d love to put your hair up! To be honest, I’ve been wanting to for a while,” her eyes widened at her own statement, “Oh, that sounded creepy. I’m so sorry.”

“I am hardly one to judge,” he reached over for a cookie, “But, if you’re so inclined, I won’t protest.”

“Yay!” she bounced slightly in her chair, “Oh, that’s great, Kiyo, thanks.”

“Shall we go to your dorm after finishing our refreshments?”

“I’d like that,” (Y/n) grinned.

And to think she almost didn’t approach Korekiyo on that first day in the school. How ridiculous could she have been to judge based on looks? Sure, he was a little strange and the way he spoke was unlike any teenager she’d ever met, but he was still a person. He deserved to be given companionship.

Besides, he’d only ever shown her kindness and support.

He didn’t even make fun of her when she said something stupid in front of everyone.

She cringed at the memory of every time Kokichi or Miu or Maki prodded at her. Even Ryoma and Kaito had picked on her when she misspoke during the first trial and just brought up a point the class had already proven. It made her heart wrinkle and shrink at the mere thought. Kokichi still made fun of her for questioning Tsumugi’s whereabouts during Rantaro’s murder.

“You’re staring into your tea, it will grow cold if you only look at it.”

“Oh, yeah,” shaking her head, (Y/n) silently cursed herself for spacing out. What an awful habit of hers, it was, “Sorry for taking so long.”

“You shouldn’t apologize, I’m not upset in the slightest,” he felt his heart lighten at the tiny smile that illuminated her face, “I simply enjoy spending this time together.”

“You’re too nice sometimes, Kiyo,” she giggled, but they both recognized the tingle of nervousness jumbling within it, “If you’re not careful, I might fall for you or something…”

“Maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing?”

I wouldn’t mind, she wanted to say.

If you’ll have me, he wished to murmur.

Then he felt his chest tighten.

“Can I…” he tapped a finger to the table, “ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

“Have you ever been in love?”

“Uhm,” she bit her lip as she thought back, “No… why?”

“How do you think it feels?”

“Like, you could be free and yourself around the person? I’m not too sure, but I think if you and someone else are in love then you’ll accept each other completely, you know? Sure, there’s flaws in every person, but I think you accept those, too.”

“I see…”

“Kiyo, why do you ask?”

“I…” his brows furrowed, “A lot has been on my mind as of late.”

“Alright, I won’t pry,” standing from the dining table, (Y/n) clapped her hands together, “Now, if you’re still down, I’d love to put your hair up!”

“As it stands, I am still, as you put it, ‘down’,” Korekiyo nodded before joining the girl and starting towards her dorm room.

“Nice!” she pointed directly ahead, “Now, onward!”

A total airhead at her truest, Korekiyo thought. He didn’t usually partake in the type, but something about (Y/n) just pulled him in tighter every time he tried turning away.

So, what’s the harm in giving in? Swimming against the tide only ever led to drowning anyway, so why fight it?

Sister… Sister was dead. Is dead. Resurrection isn’t possible and hasn’t been in human history. And she had changed so much of him. (Y/n) would never force him to bend to her ideal.

The more he thought about Sister in comparison to (Y/n), the more he realized that Sister felt like a ball and chain - and (Y/n) felt like a breath of fresh air.

Just her name inside his own head sounded as sweet as the best form of heaven.

“Here we are!” (Y/n) cheered upon their arrival to her room, “There’s probably a bunch-load of unfinished works in here so just… don’t judge them too harshly, okay?”

“I could hardly judge an unfinished masterpiece.”

“I don’t know about masterpieces…”

“If you create them with heart and soul, there’s nobody who can effectively say they aren’t except for yourself,” Korekiyo enters the room after her, legs carrying him towards her desk as she roots around her bathroom for a hairbrush and hair tie, “Sadly, this is also applicable to disasters with effort put into them. However, just from skimming these, I can tell you they are not such disasters.”

“Aw, thanks, Kiyo, you know - I know I’m the Ultimate Composer and junk, but jeez it gets so nerve-wracking when people hear my stuff. I like what I write, but who’s to say other people will?”

“I understand that. Showing others your work is extremely unsettling at times,” he followed the girl to her bed and sat between her knees on the floor, “I recall feeling that way when I would dabble in artistry.”

“You can draw?”

“I would when I was much younger,” he felt her fingers run over his scalp and through his hair and the weight looming over his shoulders practically melted off, “I haven’t held onto any of them, and they’ve likely aged poorly, but I know how I felt showing them around.”

“Why’d you stop? If you don’t mind my asking,” reaching around, (Y/n) threaded her fingers through Korekiyo’s bangs and, as gently as humanly possible, pulled the hair hanging over and around his face back into a slicked style.

“My… sister, she always rathered that I participate in anthropology with her. I wasn’t all that good anyways.”

“Aw, that’s kinda sad. Even if you weren’t good, you could’ve improved over time.”

“Do you truly believe that, (Y/n)?”

“Of course, I mean, talents are just developed over time, right? Angie didn’t pop out of the womb an art genius and I didn’t start off great at writing music, you just keep at it and eventually your skill level is way better than when you started.”

Sister always said he’d be garbage at drawing. Somebody like him could never learn.

She tied off and twisted until the bun was perfect - well, not perfect. It was presentable enough, and it was just a bun anyway! Not like they had anywhere to be.

“Sorry it’s messy,” she scratched at her cheek, feeling anxious that he’d be upset with her work.

“I…” he felt another little smile peek over him, it was indeed messy with stray hairs sticking out here and there and a few tiny bumps running over his head, but even so, “I love it.”

“You do?”

“It’s a gesture from you, why wouldn’t I?”

Standing beside Korekiyo at the mirror, (Y/n) twiddled her thumbs before spewing out her question, “It’s totally cool if not, but can I hug you? Sorry if that’s weird!”

“No… it’s…” Sister never asked to touch him, and now that he thought about it, she never seemed to care when he told her to stop, “That would be wonderful.”

As her arms slowly came around him, he felt truly at ease. With Sister, there was always this fear of never being what she wanted. That she hated him deep down. With (Y/n), it felt like finally being attached to someone you were meant to. Returning to a place of deep affection.

“You truly do care about me, don’t you, (Y/n)?”

“What kind of question is that?” she back-pedals, “I mean, of course, I do. You’re very dear to me, Kiyo.”

Maybe even a little too dear, considering the current climate of the killing game.

But even so, neither of them pulls away. Neither cares enough to wrangle themselves from indulging in the other’s touch. It feels too good against their skin.

It’s then that Korekiyo’s brain strikes the flint to create the burning thought - maybe Sister wasn’t all that great. Maybe Sister didn’t love him.

She’s only ever made him miserable, now that he recalls it all.

(Y/n) doesn’t. She makes him feel human and alive and adored. He likes the way she makes him feel. And between the two, he much rather would be praised than berated.

Oh God, what did this mean again?

Where do the creation myths go?

Who’s Princess Kaguya?

Her head throbs at the thoughts rumbling through her. She tried to get Korekiyo to get someone, anyone, but her to organize his notes.

Shuichi would love this stuff! You two should bond!

Gonta could learn about being gentlemanly from you! It’d be a great learning experience!

I know you don’t like Miu that much, but maybe spending more time together could make you understand each other more?

Anyone.

And yet, Korekiyo denied. He liked spending time with her. He wouldn’t mind answering every question she had - no matter how many times she asked it. He was a patient person, he could handle it.

(Y/n) looked at all the books and stray papers surrounding her alike, bottom lip tugged between her teeth in focus and face beating hot in vivid embarrassment. He wasn’t even looking at her, thank God, but still… it was so mortifying that she’d already lost track of what she was doing.

She tried so hard to pay attention, she really, really did!

She wanted to help so bad. She wanted to be useful so bad.

But she knew… she’s not a smart person, per se. It was beaten over her head repeatedly her entire life by her family, schooling, peers, and even her friends. She was an idiot who couldn’t do anything right.

It’s why she wanted Korekiyo to ask someone else.

But how could she say no to him? He was always so nice, it’d be downright mean to refuse him. Right?

She felt her eyes burn, vision growing blurry through tears. Setting down the papers in her hands - (Y/n) covered her eyes to keep any wetness from splotching the notes below. It was the least a fucking moron could do.

“(Y/n)? Are you feeling okay?”

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck

She nodded shakily, just wanting Korekiyo to ignore her and continue his work. Better yet, he’d kick her out and she could dodge the incoming humiliation altogether.

“Yeah,” her voice cracked, lips trembling.

Goddammit.

She heard papers rustling before she could feel the presence at her side. Fingertips just barely grazing her body before hesitating back, “You’re lying.”

Understatement of the year.

“I just… I’m so sorry, Kiyo. I’m such an idiot, I knew I couldn’t do this,” she whimpered, desperately trying to grab and suffocate down her bubbling sobs before they wracked her throat, “I’m too fucking dumb to do anything right… I’m sorry…”

“No, no, don’t apologize. You’ve done nothing wrong and you’re no idiot,” he’s immediately slammed with every memory of every time he’s called her such a thing. No matter how nice he tried to be about it, he still aided her insecurity, “I’m sorry for ever saying you were. Intellect is not measured by how well you can do a task nor should everyone’s mind be measured the same. Intelligence is fickle and is spread over a vast variety of subjects. You’re not an idiot for not being able to do something you’re not accustomed to.”

“I just… I- I wanted to help you but then I forgot everything you said about organizing them and then which regions are which and what even is a gorgon?”

He chuckled quietly at her question, “A creature in Greek mythology most commonly in reference to three sisters - Medusa, Euryale, and Sthenno - with hair made of living, venomous snakes that turned those who so much as looked upon them to stone,” he glanced around at what (Y/n) had gotten done, “I see that the filing in relation to music is nearly completed for your half.”

“That’s about all I’m good for.”

“And I would not have managed that so easily, music was never an incredible strength of mine - though I do admire it.”

“Don’t lie to me, Kiyo…”

“I would never,” he moved his notes away to sit more comfortably next to the girl, “In fact, if you’d be willing to listen…” his throat tightened and heart thumped in his chest, “I would like to tell you of something that’s been troubling me for quite some time.”

“Yeah,” she wiped away her tears, sniffling, “of course.”

“I told you of my sister, correct?” he waited for her nod of confirmation to continue, “Well, it’s my belief that…” his fists clenched.

What if she didn’t believe him? What if she blamed him? How do you tell someone your older sister raped and abused you when you’re barely even coming to terms with the fact yourself?

“(Y/n), I…” he stopped, gut bunching in knots before he suddenly ripped down his mask and turned to face her, “I think I need help…”

“What? You’re just wearing lipstick, Kiyo, there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“No, no, no, no,” he shook his head, hands shaking wildly as he pulled out the ponytail (Y/n) had done up earlier and yanked through his hair, “E-everything I am is because of her! She consumes me even in death! She- she- she hurt me…”

“Oh,” the girl moved to sit up on her knees, hands reaching out but not yet touching him, “What happened, Kiyo? You can tell me, I’m listening.”

“She told me I was an awful boy, nobody but her could love someone so foul and creepy… she- “ he moved to grip his sleeves, “She touched me,” he looked into the girl’s eyes, “Is it my fault? Am I so disgusting? Why would she do this?”

“Do you want me to hold you or no?” at his shaky nod, she instantly took Korekiyo into a hug, cradling his head and shoulders to her body and stroking through his hair, “You’re more than what she made you. You’re bigger and better than her manipulation. And it’s not your fault she did what she did. It’s completely and totally on her. She took advantage of you, Kiyo, that’s not your fault.”

He grabbed her arm and pressed his face into her shirt as she held him, “Am I rotten? Am I lovable?”

“You’re the best person I’ve ever met. You’re worthy of love and care.”

His lipstick smeared over her shirt and across his cheek and neither of them minded. It would wash off eventually. Her stain on his life would come out.

“When we get out,” (Y/n) began again, “do you want to seek professional help? You can get it, Kiyo.”

He was slow to nod, beginning to grow tired from dosing out tears and trauma at once, “I do… thank you, (Y/n)...”

“No need to thank me.”

“(Y/n)?” she hummed quietly in acknowledgement, “Even if it isn’t for field work… I wish to travel the country with you. I want to show you the beauty of humanity as I know it… for our sakes.”

Looking down, (Y/n) caught the gentleness in his eyes, tender and soft and awaiting her response, she smiled softly, brushing back his hair, “I would love to, Kiyo. If it’s truly something you want to do, I would be happy to go anywhere with you.”

Nighttime was quickly approaching and with the atmosphere and turmoil of the class, (Y/n) didn’t feel very safe being out so late.

“You’re certain you don’t wish for me to walk you to your room?”

“No, you finish up here,” (Y/n) waved off Korekiyo’s offer, “Don’t be such a worry-wart, yeah? I’ll be fine! You better take care of yourself while I’m gone, though.”

He nodded, a small smile stretching over him, “I will, dear (Y/n), don’t worry.”

The girl’s eyes widened slightly before she returned his beam, “You have a cute smile, Kiyo.”

“Oh,” right, he didn’t have his mask on at the moment. It was refreshing to wake up and not trouble himself with makeup for a woman he wasn’t sure even cared - dare he say it, it was nice, even.

He’d only taken his mask off around (Y/n), it felt intimate. Sweet. Something passed only between them.

“Thank you.”

She nodded before turning back and pressing outward from his research lab, “I’ll see ya tomorrow, Kiyo! You better have the sweetest dreams, ya hear me?”

“You as well.”

He returned to cleaning up his lab, occasionally stumbling over a floorboard looser than the others. How troublesome.

That’s when her voice picked up from within his brain.

“You never loved me.”

He looked around despite knowing exactly where the voice was coming from.

“You let her do this to you. You let her take you from me.”

Pushing past them, he persisted in rooting through his notes and organizing his papers.

“She hates you. She’s scared of you. She’s just trying to be nice. You scare her. You scare all of them. You rotten, rotten boy. You’ve been ruined - only I could love a face so hideous and broken. A horrible, horrible boy lucky enough to be given the love I did.”

His hands shook, fingers twitching and heart thrumming heavy, “No. (Y/n) likes me. She enjoys my company.”

“Why would she enjoy the company of someone so lonely and depressing? So gross and foul? She probably hates you for partaking in your own sister’s touch.”

“No, she- she doesn’t… she knows it’s not… it’s not my fault…”

“Are you inside her head? How do you know? How are you certain? I’m the only one who ever loved you - and you’ve abandoned me. Left me all alone.”

“No, I- I haven’t abandoned you, Sister! Please, believe me, I never abandoned you.”

“So, you know what you must do to prove yourself to me.”

“(Y/n) wouldn’t like that…”

“(Y/n) wouldn’t like you anyway.”

She’s right, right? She’s right. Someone as wonderful and beautiful as (Y/n) could never adore him the way he does her. He loves her and she must find him repulsive. Staying out of fear.

Out of pity for the boy abused by his sister. And so, who better to return to than the more predictable of the two?

(Y/n) may have felt more like coming home than Sister - but Sister was home. (Y/n) was comfort. Sister was familiarity.

He found his foot planted against the loose floorboard once again. He knew how he had to make up for his misdeeds and abandonment.

“I’m truly relieved to see that you got to your room safely,” Korekiyo murmured to (Y/n).

“Huh? Oh yeah,” she pointed over to their local gentle giant, “Gonta and I crossed paths on my way and he wanted to walk me to my room and I just couldn’t say no to him. It’s nice to have someone you trust in this ‘game’. Well, other than you,” the elevator jumbled slightly as it dove down into Monokuma’s makeshift courtroom, “I trust you, obviously.”

She shouldn’t. And he wants to tell her that.

But as Kokichi and Shuichi take glances at him from across the elevator, he knows that she’ll figure things out soon enough.

And, during the trial, when Shuichi’s convicting Korekiyo of the murder of Angie Yonaga and Tenko Chabashira - she does. And she cries and screams and throws a fit. Demanding Korekiyo to fight back harder. Demanding Shuichi to stop lying and get serious. Because Korekiyo would never kill somebody.

He was nice. He was a gentleman. He cared about people. He had stolen her heart - and a man who managed that wouldn’t kill anybody. So, of course, Shuichi was lying.

“Do I have to remind you of what’ll happen if you don’t vote?” Monokuma bit out.

(Y/n) clutched at her hair - she knew what she had to do. But every time she went to vote for Korekiyo, her body wouldn’t let her.

Reaching over, the boy himself took her hand in his, “Allow me,” as he guided her hand over her voting panel. No matter how she swatted at his hand or tried to wrench herself from Korekiyo’s grip, he pressed her vote into his name.

She was forced to watch as he was strung up and spun. Made dizzy and sickly. She was made to watch as he fell into the melting pot. Fires eating at his body until he was no more than spirit.

As Monokuma and the sister who had harmed him so horrifically worked as one to rid the world of his soul.

Eyes went to (Y/n) as the execution subsided. Her sobs and hiccups drawing everyone’s attention.

Gonta was the first to approach, a large hand settling on the girl’s back as she cried, silently taking her into a hug.

Her heart wrenched, fingers squeezing at Gonta’s suit and throat rubbing raw with her wild wails.

He could’ve gotten help. He could’ve gotten out with everyone. If she’d just stayed with him then she could’ve done something. Angie and Tenko would be here. Korekiyo would be here.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Kaito’s voice peeked through, “Don’t cry because he’s gone, (Y/n). Move forward - for both of you.”

“I…” she shook her head, choking on a sob, “I don’t think I can…”

Shuichi placed a hand on Kaito’s shoulder, “Just give her a little time.”

As the group moved out of the courtroom, Gonta stayed by (Y/n)’s side up until she clumsily made her way into her dorm room.

Immediately, she collapsed into her bed sheets. Dreading tomorrow. And the next day. And the one after that. And the one after that. And so on. And so forth. Maybe she should’ve known better than to go around falling for a guy in the killing game. Maybe she should’ve held herself up in her room all alone.

There was no escape from this feeling. No hiding. It may get better over time - but Korekiyo would always be gone.

A buzz at the door caught her attention. Her movements were sluggish, honestly just hoping that whoever was there had given up and left by the time she finally answered.

Shuichi stood there, classically uneven, anxious smile and all, “I think there’s something you might be interested in? If you’ll follow me.”

No verbal response was given, only (Y/n) stepping out of her room and shutting the door behind her to give him her confirmation.

He began towards the casino. With a sigh, (Y/n) was about to tell Shuichi off - she didn’t need to start gambling to get over Korekiyo’s death - until he stopped in front of the building.

“I mostly just wanted you to get some fresh air,” he says earnestly before digging in his pocket and pulling out a key with a heart-shaped handle, “I got this from here. You can get your own or keep this one, I think you need it more than I do,” at her confusion he continues to explain, “It can take you into this weird dream-like state where you can see what ‘ideal’ you play in our classmates’ minds… I think you know who I gave this to you for.”

“Kiyo…”

“Yeah. You can see him again, if you want.”

She wanted to be strong and push the key back into Shuichi’s hand - instead, she just looked between him and the key in her hold and nodded slowly, “Thank you, Shuichi…”

He placed a hand on her shoulder, “Sleep well, (Y/n). I know you can grow past this.”

Because he did.

“I’ll try.”

But he wasn’t her. And Kaede was gone far before Korekiyo. And their grief was not the same.

“Thanks again, Shuichi.”

“Just take your time, okay?”

“Yeah, okay.”

Her knees felt like collapsing under the weight of her nerves, hand falling to the doorknob of the hotel room.

She pushed through her anxiety and found herself in a red-tinted room, a large heart-shaped bed in the center with a merry-go-round circling it. Then, she found Korekiyo standing to the side.

What would his ‘ideal’ version of her be? A friend? An out-of-touch acquaintance? A lover?

Her heart throbbed at the last possibility.

“Ah, my dear, back so soon?”

“Oh, yeah, sorry…”

“Why are you apologizing?”

“I’m, uhm, not sure?”

I’m sorry I couldn’t help you.

“Then don’t,” he seemed to glide across the room, taking the girl’s cheeks in his hands, “You’ve always had a problem with that, my love.”

My love? My love.

“Ah, yeah, sorry,” she huffed at her own word selection, “Oh…”

Korekiyo chuckled quietly, pulling down his mask to kiss her forehead, “I already took my medication while you were out.”

“Your medication?”

“Yes, from the doctor. You were the one who pushed me to go, have you forgotten?”

“Right! No, no, I just blanked,” she quickly lied, giving the boy a broad grin, “I’m glad, though.”

“It’s only medication, dear.”

“Still,” (Y/n) reached up to cup Korekiyo’s cheek, “it’s good that you’re following through with your meds.”

“Your support always helps,” he pressed another kiss to the girl’s forehead, “We’ll be leaving early in the morning tomorrow, I should warn you,” at her furrowed brows he explained, “In order for us to catch the first train to Iwate prefecture. Did you forget, darling?”

“Wait, wait, let me guess…” she waited for his nod before tossing out her suggestion, “We’re traveling for field work!” she was then quick to tag on, “As a couple that’s, like, super in love?”

“You didn’t forget at all, my love,” Korekiyo pulled away slightly, and sat on the bed, removing his shoes, “You play that memory of yours down too much. You’re far more intelligent than you think.”

“You think that?”

“Of course, I do. It’s not just because I love you dearly, either. You mustn’t let the words and actions of others control your opinion on yourself - you’re better than they say.”

This is his ultimate fantasy. He’s her lover. They travel and see the beauty of humanity together, just like what he said he wanted. He loves her. He thinks she’s so great.

He’s wrong.

She should’ve stayed with him that night.

He’s wrong.

She could’ve done so much to keep him with her.

He’s dead.

Because she should’ve stayed.

“Kiyo,” her eyes burned and began to soak, “I’m sorry!” her lungs rapidly expanded and contracted with her sporadic breaths, her hands clutching at her shirt. Her knees finally buckled and she collapsed to the ground, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry for being a stupid, stupid, stupid failure! Please… forgive me…!”

Korekiyo immediately stood up and rushed to (Y/n)’s side, bringing her into a tight hug as she fell to the floor, his fingers running through her hair. He kisses at her temple and cheeks, waiting until her cries settle enough for him to be audible in the room, “It’s interesting, dear, I first realized I’d fallen in love with you in a situation similar as this. I desired to comfort and reassure you just as I do now. You’re not stupid nor a failure, and I adore you above all else.”

Shaking her head, (Y/n) only began to cry harder into Korekiyo’s chest. This could’ve been their future. This could’ve been what they had to share and hold between only each other. If she’d only stayed. If she’d been with him that night.

“Oh, my dear, I’m sorry for upsetting you.”

“It wasn’t you,” she clamped a hand over her mouth, trying to keep back her cries, “I- I- it’s all my fault… it’s all my fault…”

“You haven’t done anything wrong, darling,” Korekiyo held her tighter, “I love you, my dearest (Y/n). No matter what you’ve done, I will always forgive you.”

And once again, her tears only came out harder. Her head pounding ruthlessly at the ache and consciousness fading out in her exhaustion. Korekiyo was dead. And no amount of her tears could ever bring him back.

#korekiyo shinguji x reader #korekiyo x reader #shinguji x reader #drv3 x reader #he deserved so much better :(( i wuv him #let me know if i miss anything with the warnings

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glitteryglitter · 3 years ago

Text

Classic literature & Coffee

𝙰𝙽: This is another older fic I wrote in May. Long story short, the reader is Jacob’s rather shy sister who happens to befriend Horace.

Enjoy!

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: none

𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐: Horace X Fem. Portman! Reader

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 1511

๑*˚🍓˚*๑

It was Y/n and Jacob's first day on the island and the two siblings were absolutely dying to explore.

It had taken Jacob and Y/n being almost mugged by a peculiar girl who they later learned was Emma for them to finally find Miss Peregrine's loop.

They'd been brought into her study and finally, after much talking, and many many introductions, Y/n got a chance to explore the loop herself.

After some time, y/n and her brother went to explore different areas of the loop. Jacob with Emma and Y/n by herself.

"Have fun, Jacob." Y/n wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. He merely rolled his eyes.

She wasn't an idiot, Y/n had seen how he looked at the pyrokinetic girl.

She hoped she'd find someone who made her feel the way Emma did her brother.

Y/n had had enough of the outdoors that day and decided to explore the house a bit more.

She wandered through the kitchen, dining room, and several sitting rooms to a staircase.

She climbed the stairs and carefully crept down the hallway which appeared to be elegantly decorated.

She then found a door opened halfway.

She could see a boy who had platinum blond hair.

He was seated in an armchair facing the window with a view of the sea.

"Y/n! I was expecting you! What brings you here?"

Y/n gasped and backed away. "How do you know my name?"

Horace had been expecting a new visitor, he just hadn't expected it to be so soon.

If his dreams were correct (as he knew them to be,) this stranger was quite special.

She had a brother, she was absolutely gorgeous, and she had an absolutely fascinating peculiarity.

Controlling people through photographs. How lovely! He thought.

Unfortunately for Horace, The girl was currently cowering in the doorway with a horrified look on her face

He shook his head and turned to face his new visitor.

"My apologies, y/n I'm Horace." he smiled pleasantly

This didn't make matters much better for y/n.

Not only was she absolutely terrified of the reason why this boy knew her name, but this boy staring at her expectantly was also, in fact, the most handsome boy she'd seen.

She gaped and blinked several times until she realized she would have to say something. That is, after all how a conversation worked, y/n reminded herself.

"It's nice to meet you, Horace" she replied stiffly, internally face-palming.

"Really, y/n! "It's nice to meet you?" Who are you? A second-grade teacher? You need to pull yourself together!" She thought.

He smiled.

"It's lovely to meet you too!"

This conversation was going even better than he'd hoped it would! He hadn't scared this girl off!

Thank goodness, he thought.

At that moment, Horace was reminded of something.

"I feel I should explain why I know your name."

Y/n nodded.

"I have dreams, prophetic dreams. They tell me what will happen and I saw you in one of them...The thing was, my dreams don't tell me everything. I know some trivia, when you were born, and where you're from, but I didn't know that you'd be here so soon! I'm sorry for not mentioning it earlier"

"Well, I'm sorry for shrieking at you. It really wasn't polite."

Horace smiled. "Can we be friends?"

The words hit y/n and her eyes widened slightly.

There it was. The word that determined many, many things.

She was alright with being friends, of course.

She'd just had hoped for more.

Oh well, she should be content, Y/n reprimanded herself.

This should be enough!

It just felt like it wasn't.

Y/n remembered for the second time that day, Horace was waiting for an answer.

"Friends! Of course! I'd love that! Y/n plastered a huge smile across her face. She only hoped it didn't look fake.

At that moment, she heard her name being hollered from downstairs.

"I'm sorry, Horace. I have to go, my brother's calling."

He nodded. "I hope we'll meet again soon, Y/n"

"Me too"

๑*˚🍓˚*๑

The next day, Jacob and Y/n had made one of the biggest decisions of their lives.

They would stay in the loop.

The two siblings left their horrific little hotel and said their woeful goodbyes to their father.

Finally, they arrived back at the very same loop they'd discovered a few days prior.

Miss Peregrine smiled at the two as they stood on the doorstep.

"You've returned! Thank goodness! I'm so glad."

Now, let's get you two rooms. Emma, will you show them in?

Jacob's new sweetheart was positively beaming.

Y/n liked her.

She seemed so strong-willed and confident.

Y/n would even go as far as to say she admired the girl.

"I'm so happy you two are living with us! The twenty-first century seems fascinating! What is it like? I know you told me a bit yesterday, but it truly does seem glorious."

Emma was absolutely taken with the idea of the future and babbled on excitedly as the three walked down the hallways.

"Here's your room!"

She gestured grandly to the gorgeously appointed room. It was small, but it was still lovely. The wood paneling and floral wallpaper gave it a charming vintage look that y/n had absolutely fallen in love with.

"You each have a bed and some cabinets. We'll get you some clothes in a while, at the moment, make yourselves at home!"

With that Emma sauntered out of the room.

"Lunch is in half an hour! Feel free to join us if you'd like!" she called out.

Jacob and Y/n took one look at each other and flopped down on their beds.

"What a day" Jacob mumbled. Y/n merely nodded.

๑*˚🍓˚*๑

Several hours had passed and night had fallen.

The two siblings had not, in fact, joined the peculiars for lunch.

It must have been about 2 in the morning when Y/n woke up.

She'd been tossing and turning for the past 10 minutes and it had become apparent that sleep was a lost cause.

She glanced at her brother who was still sleeping soundly. She wouldn't wake him. Not yet, at least.

Y/n slipped on a pair of sandals that had appeared at the foot of her bed, no doubt Emma had placed them there earlier.

She silently thanked her new friend as y/n tiptoed out of her room.

Y/n found herself at the bottom of an ornate staircase that led to a comfortable-looking library.

Books! perfect! Y/n had always loved to read and this would be an ideal way to pass the time!

She had just selected a novel, Shakespear's Romeo and Juliet when she heard something.

"You're back! Thank goodness! I thought you'd left forever."

Y/n yelped and dropped her book.

"Goodness, am I really that intimidating? You've shrieked at me both times we've talked!"

The dashing boy, Horace Y/n recalled, was draped across a chaise lounge with a cup of coffee beside him.

"I'm sorry. I just never expect you to be there, well, when you are" Y/n finished meekly, still feeling slightly rattled.

"It's alright! What are you reading?" Horace lifted his head to catch a glimpse of the title on y/n's book as she settled down beside him on his chaise lounge,

"Romeo and Juliet! One of my favorites!"

Y/n beamed. "It's one of mine as well! It's so beautiful. I just wish I could find my Romeo one day." She sighed dreamily as she leaned back against the chaise, hoping her Romeo was near.

Little did she know, he was.

"I'm sure you will, Y/n. Maybe he's already here. You never know, do you?"

The blond boy shifted slightly, hoping he wasn't coming off as rude.

"What if he is? Right before my eyes?"

Y/n blinked as she realized something. It was now or never.

However, Horace beat her to it

"Y/n I think- Oh dear, how do I say this-"

The poor boy was truly terrified, but the words tumbled out anyway.

"I know we've only just met, but would you like to go on a date in the village sometime?"

He looked away, terrified of what he knew almost for certain what would come next.

Rejection.

He would of course smile and nod, and of course, it would be alright in the end.

Friendship was just as good and he would be happy.

He did like this girl though.

A lot.

He didn't doubt it for a second.

Then, much to his surprise, a response came. not the one he was expecting either.

"Yes! Oh my god, yes!" Y/n beamed.

A rather dazed Horace smiled back.

"Thank you, Y/n! I like you. a lot. I'm so thrilled to have you as my girlfriend"

There it was. The word that decided many things and Y/n was more than overjoyed for it to be true. Girlfriend. Horace's girlfriend. Her boyfriend! She couldn't be more thrilled.

The feeling was mutual. Horace was absolutely elated as well!

The girl of his dreams, (quite literally) had just said yes to a date.

Perhaps the future in Miss Peregrine's loop wasn't nearly as dull as it appeared to be

๑*˚🍓˚*๑

#horace somnusson #horace somnusson x reader #mphfpc imagines #miss peregrines home for peculiar children

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neuxue · 4 years ago

Note

I'm trying to understand your problem with Asmodean. I agree with what you say about redemption, but he's basically lazy. His music came naturally, as a child prodigy. He learned to channel in the era when it was the path of least resistance. He was never a fallen hero like Sammael or Belal. There's no sign of a capacity for good, no spark of failed heroism or something like even Elan Morin's insight or Moghedian taking care of orphans. That's what I mean by contemptible (+ Fade-rape of his mom)

The flippant answer here is: “of the two of us, I don’t think I’m the one who has a problem with Asmodean.”

The actual answer is: one of the points I was trying to make in response to your earlier ask is that I don’t find it interesting or productive to try to classify characters as deserving or undeserving of redemption based on their level or type of ‘contemptibility’. I also think it’s an exercise in futility, because people are going to disagree on where those lines are drawn; there isn’t some perfect universal categorisation that says ‘this character “deserves” redemption; this one does not’, and that way lies... *stares into the abyss beyond years of fandom wank*

For a character to be redeemed, they have to do some bad / evil / wrong / immoral / contemptible things first. And then they have to, through some means, move or be moved towards something better.

Why should the form of that contemptibility define whether or not they can move away from it?

If we take your assessment of Asmodean’s character at face value (I would dispute aspects of it but that’s tangential to the point I’m trying to make, so I’ll refrain), why should laziness disqualify a character from a redemption arc? Why should apathy mean they can’t realise what it means to care about something?

You say “there’s no sign of a capacity for good,” but again, redemption by definition involves at some point being not good. Whether or not there’s a sign of some ‘innate goodness’ doesn’t really come into it. It certainly can--there are absolutely redemption arcs out there that do begin with a fallen or failed hero, or a character who means well but lost their way, or in some way already wants or is trying to find their way back--but that’s not the only form a redemption arc can take.

You don’t have to enjoy redemption arcs that begin in a darker place, but that doesn’t mean they can’t or shouldn’t exist. Personally I want to read about more characters who show absolutely no sign of a desire to be ‘good’, no spark or history of heroism, no remorse for the blood on their hands or no concern about the shape of the future... and who somehow change anyway. Because the question there is: how do you get a character like that to decide to walk a different road? And the more impossible it seems at first, the more interesting that can be.

There are different flavours of redemption--and again, they’re not all going to be for everyone, and that’s fine--and sometimes it’s about watching a character who has stumbled find their footing again and rise to true heroism, but sometimes it’s about just... finding or creating or cultivating that initial spark of I want something different in a character who has never even considered it before. Or anything in between.

And if we try to draw line around what qualifies as a starting point for redemption and what doesn’t, we lose the variety it enables. Because different starting points, and different characters and characteristics, will approach (or be dragged kicking and screaming to) redemption differently. Redemption isn’t one-size-fits-all, and for me so much of the interest is in seeing the different shapes it can take, and the different lenses you can view it through. Different starting points, different reasons, different catalysts, different paths, different challenges along the way, different results.

In some ways redemption is or is akin to a kind of healing; and like healing, it’s going to look different depending on the ailment. Sometimes it’s an acute problem but a short and relatively simple treatment or recovery. Sometimes it’s not visible, but takes years or decades or a lifetime of management. Sometimes it’s a series of experimental treatments, some of which may not work.

(“Okay but Lia, you can’t actually mean you want to see a redemption arc for [insert truly awful character here]” but the thing is, yes, yes I do. If it’s well executed? I absolutely want to see a redemption of the seemingly irredeemable. Not because of whether or not I find them sympathetic or forgivable or justified or whatever else, but because one of the things that’s so fascinating to me about the whole concept of redemption is the why, the how. What does it take, to get a character to make that first step? Where do they go from there, and what motivates them to do it? What keeps them going, even when it’s hard? These are really difficult with some characters, and that’s part of what makes it interesting to me.)

Finally... I hesitated over bringing aspects of reality into a discussion of fiction, this site being what it is, but. To use your characterisation of Asmodean as an example: I’m not going to get into a discussion of the concept of prodigy and talent here, or how it’s perceived and the consequences for those perceived as such, and how that can shape them, and how it’s pretty much always far more complicated than ‘laziness’, but even leaving that aside, there are absolutely people who will identify with elements of the ‘former child prodigy who falls into apathy’ for various reasons. Should they just... give up? Is that not part of what forms the feedback loop of apathy in the first place?

I’m obviously not saying that all villians / anatagonists / characters who do Bad Things have to be redeemed (or that fiction has a 1:1 impact on reality because No), but in fandom spaces especially, I see a lot of conversations around whether a certain character ‘deserves’ redemption that slide uncomfortably close to saying ‘[trait] means you don’t deserve to be redeemed / can’t be a good person / can’t try to be a better person’, without much awareness of how that is going to sound to the actual real people in the conversation. Just... one I wish people would be more aware of, sometimes.

#tl;dr i'm just forever tired of certain conversations re redemption #you don't have to like all redemption arcs #you can have your own opinions re redeemability #but they're not universal #asks #anon #i need a better villains tag #i suppose technically this is #asmodean #wheel of time #but only tangentially #also probably needs #rape mention cw

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worldserasingandcreatinginmymind · 4 years ago

Text

Flesh & Blood | Part Six

Series Summary: A mysterious stranger with ties to your past shows up in your small village

Pairing: Count Dracula x reader

Word Count: 1670

Warnings: none? maybe slightly out of character Drac

A/N: as always spelling and grammar is not my strongest skill so please be kind :) if you want to be added to the taglist let me know (please note I cant reply to comments using this blog)

Masterlist | Part Five

- - - - -

“Ughhhhhh” you let out a loud groan as your alarm blares through your room, waking you up before you're ready. You sit up and the pounding in your head reminds you of the amount of wine you consumed the night before, and the vampire you consumed it with. Slowly it all comes back to you. The candle lit picnic. The heart wrenching love story. The almost kiss.

Butterflies flutter around your insides as you relive the moment in your head. But they soon disappear when you remember how close you came to being Dracula’s kill of the night.

The clock on the nightstand reminds you that you have somewhere to be. You quickly get ready for work, take some painkillers and head to the high street.

“Morning love!” Maggie calls from the kitchen as you enter the bakery

“Morning Mags” you say, not quite matching her cheerfulness

“How was your evening?” She asks as she continues to knead the bread she’s making “did you get some sleep?”

“Not really no. I, uh… I kinda had a date”

“What?!” She spins around to look at you, spilling flour in the process. She grins at you “who’s the lucky man?.. Or woman? No judgement here”

“Man” you giggle as you carefully consider whether to tell her the truth “well, actually… vampire” you say sheepishly and her face drops.

“Y/N. Please tell me you're joking”

You shake your head and she stares at you.

“Do you understand how dangerous that was? He could have killed you!”

“But he didn’t” you shrug, choosing not to admit he almost did “look, I know it was dangerous but I needed answers from him Mags. And it was actually a really nice night. We talked and laughed a lot, and he told me things that I don't think he would have told me if anyone else was there.”

“You're talking about him as if he isn’t a vampire. A murderer!”

“Maybe that’s not all he is! Maybe he’s more than that. I saw a different side to him last night.”

She watches you for a moment before coming to a realisation “oh my God, you're in love with him”

“No! No, I’m not in love with him”

“But you have feelings for him?”

You look at her and take a deep breath before slowly nodding your head. Maggie closes her eyes and lets out a sigh.

“Oh Y/N. What am I going to do with you, eh?” She walks up to you and pulls you into a hug.

“Are you going to tell Zoe?” You ask quietly.

“Not if you don't want me to”

You let out a sigh of relief.

“BUT you have to keep me in the loop. Okay? You tell me when and where you meet him, every time. And you let me know you're safe. Always.”

“I will, I promise. Thank you Maggie”

“I love you Y/N, I just want you to be happy”

The sound of the front door opening ends your conversation as Maggie goes to serve the first customer of the day. You take your phone out of your pocket and decide to quickly send Dracula a text.

“Can I see you? x”

— — — —

Lying in bed that night you once again find yourself thinking about Dracula. Even though you’ve only known him a short amount of time, he has completely taken over your thoughts. You wonder if he thinks about you as much as you do about him. Clearly not since he hasn’t replied to your text today. You sigh as you roll over in bed and gasp as you see him lying next to you. Before you can say anything his hand is around your throat. You try to scream but no sound comes out. You try to fight, but your limbs disobey. You're completely at his mercy and he manoeuvres himself on top of you.

“You left our little date so quickly last night, I thought I’d finish it now.”

He grins revealing his glowing sharp fangs. With a growl he lowers his head to your neck and you shut your eyes tight as he sinks his teeth in.

Your eyes shoot open as you sit upright in bed and bring your hand up to your neck. No bite marks. It was just a dream. You take deep steadying breaths as you reach over to turn on the bedside light.

“You know you really should lock your windows”

You turn your head and see Dracula outside.

“What are you doing?” You ask, climbing out of bed and walking over to the window “Van Helsing’s guard dogs will see you, why don't just you come-”

“NO!” He stops you “Do not invite me in, it’s not safe. I thought the dream I just gave you would have taught you that”

“You did that?”

“I’m just dropping by to tell you how much I enjoyed talking with you last night, and to say that I am truly sorry about how it ended. After tonight you won’t have to worry about your safety anymore”

“I’m not worried”

“That’s the problem Y/N, you should be! I am a vampire, I have murdered innocent people. You should be terrified of me!”

“Zoe isn’t”

“Zoe has a reason, her blood is like poison to me”

“What?”

“She didn’t tell you? She’s dying, that’s why she isn’t afraid. I can’t drink from her without killing myself in the process. But you, Y/N the only thing stopping me from drinking your blood is my own self control and I cannot rely on that. You saw for yourself last night how quickly I can change, how easy it would have been for me to kill you”

“But you didn’t”

“But I could have! Either you don't understand the danger you're in when you're around me, or you just don't care. Maybe that’s why I’m so drawn to you, fascinated by you even. But I cannot allow you to risk your life any longer”

“Surely that’s my choice to make”

“Not anymore. I’m leaving the village”

“No”

“I’m not here to debate! I’m here to apologise which now I have done I can say goodbye”

“No!” You reach out the window and grab his hand, taking him by surprise. “Stay! Please, I don't want you to go. Just come inside and-”

He quickly pulls his hand out of your grasp and looks at you with a slight hint of panic in his eyes which quickly turns to anger “I told you not to invite me in. How could you be so stupid?”

“Drac-”

“Goodbye Y/N”

“No! Dracula!” You call after him but he’s gone.

You grab your phone off the bedside table and call him, but it goes straight to voicemail. Maybe he just needs a couple of days and then he’ll come around. But what if that really was goodbye?

You sink back down into bed and pull your duvet up around you, hugging yourself tightly for comfort as you eventually drift off into a restless sleep.

— — — —

Just over a week later you're awoken one morning by a frantic knocking at the front door. You step into you slippers and grab your dressing down, wrapping around yourself as you run down the stairs. You're surprised to see Zoe stood on the other side when you open the door with a young man you recognise from your first visit to the Harker Foundation. Zoe walks straight past you into your living room and the boy looks at you apologetically.

“Uh, what’s going on?” You ask as you gesture for the boy to come in and close the door behind him.

“Dracula” she drops a file on your dining table and looks at you expectantly.

“What about him?” You reply nonchalantly, shrugging your shoulders.

“Were you ever going to tell us he’s left the village?”

“I presumed you’d know, and clearly you do otherwise we wouldn’t be having this conversation. Besides its not like he told me where he was going-”

“London.” Zoe cuts you off “We’ve traced him to London with the help of Jack”

“Hi, I’m Jack” The young man steps forward and waves awkwardly.

“Seem’s Dracula took a liking to Jack’s girlfriend-”

“She wasn’t my- we were just friends” Jack stutters

“-to Jack’s friend.” Zoe corrects herself “So much so that he killed her”

“I’m so sorry” you offer to Jack and he gives you a small smile before you turn back to Zoe “But what has any of this got to do with me?”

“We need you to come with us to London and talk to Dracula. Convince him to come back to the village”

“Why me?”

“He’ll listen to you”

“He wants nothing to do with me! He made that perfectly clear! He won’t even answer my texts, what makes you think he’ll listen to me?”

“He has a connection with you Y/N.” Zoe says, but her voice sounds different “just like he had a connection with your great great grandmother all those years ago. Why else would he spare the life of Sister Y/N? Why would he spare yours now? He feels something for you and it scares him. The man who cannot die is afraid to get close to anyone who can”

You think over her words for a moment, then you remember.

“Martha” you whisper to yourself. Zoe and Jack look at you confused “he had a wife, but she died. It makes sense now, why he is the way he is.”

You think again and take a deep breath, nodding your head.

“I’ll come with you. But I don't think it will change anything”

“Get dressed, we leave in half an hour”

Part Seven

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