#its easy to find the little differences between even identical twins if you like them enough to notice the differences

[pyxrin]

Also, their expressions and mannerisms would be so diff. Not to mention their voices, but that's obvious.

am i wrong

[wonderfuldeath]

.o| Bad Temptation : II |o.

Warnings : Violence, injury, graphic depictions, sex

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With the noise of the party making his head spin, or maybe it was the dull thud of alcohol coursing through his veins, Taehyung was lost between the warmth of the bodies around him and himself. It wasn't unusual to see humans mixed with mystics in this kind of place, but it was rare to see them in VIP lounges, and even now, Taehyung was wondering how he'd got here. Min Yoongi had recognized Jimin's reddish-blonde hair the instant the sorcerer had pushed open the nightclub door, and he hadn't really liked the idea of him getting mixed up with the little people. So he had forced Jimin to come, and Jimin had forced Taehyung to follow him, so as not to end up with his sociopath boss, who had certainly calculated the number of drinks the sorcerer had had. For Taehyung, this was a completely new experience; he'd never set foot in this place, which was reserved only for the mystical and the rich, so he took advantage of it, certainly drinking more than he should, accepting drinks from anyone who would buy him one, before his eyes met the bright red eyes of the prettiest vampire he'd ever seen in his life. The electric blue of his hair held in a half ponytail, he wasn't dressed very formally, but his pale skin and bewitching gaze were enough to draw Taehyung into the predator's pull.

“- It's rare to see such a beautiful creature in this place. What's a sheep doing surrounded by all those wolves?

- Maybe I'm not afraid of being eaten.

- You should be, many of us will have no qualms about destroying you in any way we can.

- Sounds like something a predator might say, having already thought about what to do next.

- I confess I couldn't take my eyes off you. Several ideas came to mind when I watched you move your body just now.

- Oh, you mean, when I do something like this?”

Taehyung didn't know what he was thinking, why he wanted to see the vampire lose his head in front of him, but he couldn't help it, he wanted to do it, to see the weak walls he'd built disappear in the movement of his hips, and with a grunt, the vampire came to bite into his shoulder. And although he'd often been told it was painful, Taehyung felt nothing more than a gentle warmth in his lower belly. He hears himself moaning, not knowing he's so easy, yet his head is spinning, the euphoria of the party seems far away when the door of the big apartment with its covered windows slams against his back, and if he'd had to explain the rest of the evening or the exchange, he admits, he couldn't have done it lying on top of him. The sun burns his skin, while his body feels terribly heavy. He struggles to take in the life around him, searching for a point of reference he can't find.

“- Choi-mi?

- Monsieur is awake.

- Good morning, sir. I'm Seo.

- And I'm Yeo. Take a seat, we'll bring you your breakfast.”

The two twins are in perfect synchronization, bending over at the same time before the blonde pulls out the chair. Both were identical, if they forgot the color of their hair, one was redheaded, the other blonde, they wore identical dresses, but different in color again, and Taehyung could only find them adorable. Like Choi-mi, they must have had a hard time finding work, trying to welcome him as perfectly as possible, serving a typical breakfast for families with no knowledge of humans. A little of everything, a lot of hot and cold drinks. A veritable feast for at least twenty people.

“- Monsieur wasn't sure of your tastes.

- So he ordered us to do this.

- Please take your time with your lunch.

- Monsieur's car will be waiting to take you to work.”

Taehyung smiled at them, before starting to eat with appetite, he felt as if most of his vital functions had been sucked out of him, surprised to have eaten so much, before realizing the clock was ticking. Jumping to his feet, he doesn't take the time to say goodbye to the twins, almost running to the apartment entrance. He's not surprised to be in the luxury districts, and the big black car brings him to the agency quickly. As he pushes open the doors to reach his office, the eyes turning on him make him uncomfortable, whispers rise, and glances pierce through him.

“- You smell bad Kim. You smell like a vampire. I thought you weren't interested in the high life.

- Mizy, I didn't know you were so early.

- Sing, sing all you want Kim. But I'm not the one on the sidelines.”

The questioning in Taehyung's eyes could be read, but Mizy only laughed lightly, making him shudder. He didn't like Mizy very much, she was an eloquent-looking vampire, hissing like a snake, and everyone knew she'd had more than enough to get where she was. But she was proud of it, so nobody said anything. To tell the truth, she made Taehyung uncomfortable, he'd never known why, but something about her told him she was dangerous. No sooner had he opened the door to his office than the CEO himself stepped out, his gaze hard as usual.

“- Kim. In my office.”

Several snickers wrinkle his nose, as he turns on his heels, joining his manager without saying anything more, entering the office which is far too big, even for a man like him. The young man settles into the large black leather sofa, playing nervously with his hands.

“- Mister Kim Taehyung. One of our best people, of course. A million people read your column with great envy.

- Thank you, Mr. Director, but you don't need this much kindness.

- I understand you're not that interested in my position.

- Yes, sir, I am.

- Interesting. A human facility manager. A real joke, if I do say so myself.”

Mr. Choi chuckles, looking at him as he would at an insect, before he puts down the form in his hands. The red handwriting resembled that of blood, light and delicate, the quill mustn't have taken long to scrape the blank sheet to announce someone's visible success. Few people used red ink for official declarations, only high-ranking vampires were allowed to do so, and Taehyung wasn't so stupid, his eyebrows furrowed, pursing his lower lip, unable to say anything.

“- You can understand my amazement when I received this notice from a member even higher up than myself. Mr. Jeon accepts the interview if it's only with you. He asks no one else.

- Would you like me to refuse?

- No. It wouldn't make any difference to our problem, Mr. Kim.

- Our problem Mister Choi?”

Taehyung tensed, as the two marbles pierced him, mystics never kept their contempt for humans to themselves, least of all men like Mr. Choi, old mystics didn't like humans, they found them mediocre, not good enough for them. The man blew through his nose, rereading the note with a pensive air before the paper caught fire in his hands, startling Taehyung who took a moment to realize what was happening.

“- I can't accept Mr Jeon's request. Since I refuse to give you my place in the hierarchy. Unfortunately, Mr. Kim, I'm going to have to fire you.”

Taehyung opens his mouth, unable to speak in his own defense, as he is shown the door and his box of belongings. He stares incredulously at his colleagues, laughing, as the umbrella opens timidly over his head. Choi-Mi was clearly determined not to be the secretary with anyone else.

“- What do we do now Mr. Kim?

- I don't know Choi-Mi.”

A slight sad sigh passes his lips as he reaches his own car, left here the day before, without much desire. His little city car seemed happy to see him again, bewitched by the dealer, his car was almost truly alive. Losing his joy when Taehyung told him he was home, he looked out of the window feeling empty. He loved his job, always took great pleasure in it, and now that he was unemployed, he wondered what he was going to do now. He shuffled off to his little suburban apartment, followed by Choi-Mi, who wanted to make sure he didn't leave Taehyung alone.

“- I'll make you some tea, Mr. Kim, and you can rest while you wait.

- Thank you Choi-Mi.”

He drops onto the sofa, his eyes staring into the waves, before the black letter, the same light handwriting as in Mr. Choi's office, passes into his field of vision, and he straightens up to go and read it. The red writing on the black paper flashed before his eyes, and he blew out a breath as he ran a hand through his hair.

“I'm afraid Mr. Choi has made an unfortunate decision. Here is the address of one of my companies. Please do not hesitate to contact me at the number on the envelope if you have any problems. With love. Mr Jeon.”

[astaroth1357]

The Brothers Have Been Multiplied!!!

Lucifer

Look. In his day-to-day life, Lucifer has always had to struggle with being one of, if not the only, capable person in the room. His brothers don't always try to help him and even if they do their help may just make things worse…

So this should be a dream come true right? Not only does he have competent help, they'll all also himself! Who better to trust his more difficult tasks to, right? Right??

Well… wrong. Unfortunately for as much as Lucifer is, there is one thing Lucifer and his clones just aren't… Good minions.

Complain as he might about his brothers, they know who's in charge. As it turns out five Lucifers in a room can only screw in a lightbulb after they agree on who's giving the orders and being the "original" means nothing at all!

Poor MC gets saddled with mediating the most confusing squabbles in their life between Lucifer, Lucifer, Lucifer, Lucifer, and OG Lucifer (the name dubbed to him by Levi)

So aside from this being a trainwreck for anyone not named Diavolo (who's thrilled to have so many Lucifers to talk to!), it's also a headache for himself too!

The next week is spent with Lucifer literally arguing with himself over who's doing what while the brothers all cower in their rooms to keep from incurring their wrath… Five angry Lucifers is a sentence for certain death, somebody hide Mammon…

Mammon

Lucifer's worst nightmare has been realized… Not only does he live in a world with one Mammon, now there's five! Five!!! Five Mammons!! The world isn't ready for this, no one is!

Of course, a pack of Mammons absolutely get into as much trouble as you think they would. The moment he realized there was more of him, the secondborn was already scheming up what kind of ploys he could pull off with five of himself...

Barbatos is upping the Castle security as we speak...

To his credit, you can't say that the Mammon-squad doesn't have hustle either. It may be either a blessing or a curse to go to five different stores and see a Mammon working there all at the same time, depending on your preference.

(Unfortunately for the brother and anyone with pickpocket-able wallets, it's mostly a curse).

Honestly, the biggest downside for poor MC is that they're all. so. clingy!!

If the MC wants even a minute to themselves, they'll be swatting away Mammon's like a swarm of mosquitos! Better learn an invisibility spell quick, or else their greedy companions will never, ever leave…

Leviathan 

Holy cow, it's a gamer's dream come true!! Screw underwhelming AI and goodbye unreliable party members, he has all the team he needs right here!! They should go national or even pro!!!

Ah yes, Levi was truly elated for like, a couple days over this development. Why shouldn't he be? Having a whole herd of himself was a blast!

They're all great at gaming, they like the same things, they dislike the same stuff, and (most importantly) he's not any better or worse than any one of them! There’s nothing to get jealous over, right?

Well slap a big fat wrong on that because there's one thing to always get jealous over and their name is MC!

MC could come home from class one day to find five Levi's all wanting them to do five different things and NO THEY'RE NOT SHARING-

Unfortunately for Levi, the poor guy is so prone to jealousy that he can't even cope with it when he's jealous of himself…

It is at least a little entertaining to watch a pile of otakus fight themselves, it's kind of like watching a deadly game of high-stakes LARP-ing. Just less imaginary spells and more giant sea monsters popping out of nowhere… Someone grab some sponges…

Satan

Which is more likely to rule the world, one Solomon or five Satans...?

Having five Satans around is kind of terrifying… Just one can scheme up a storm and cause a lot of damage so add on four others and you got a recipe for a bad time… 

If you're Lucifer, anyway.

In truth, the band of Satans are all about as independent as their original counterpart, so they don't often do things together as a group.

This can create a lot of deja vu scenarios where the MC will swear they've already passed by a Satan in the hallway… like three times.

Unfortunately they also get the urge for affection around the same time, so the MC may go a whole day without seeing them then suddenly get surrounded by needy and bickering Satans at all sides...

When the pack does work together, however, they're a well-oiled machine. Capable, logical, practical: basically everything the Lucfier-squad wish they could be without all the pesky pride in the way!

… until someone ticks them off and they become their own angry mob, but hey, still better than a pack of Mammons.

Asmodeus 

… We all know an orgy is happening right? Like, it may not be the first thing he thinks of, but it's on the list. He'd never pass up the chance to selfcest when possible. Never.

That being said, the Asmos actually get sick of each other surprisingly quickly… Only a few days in and they'll be squabbling like crazy!

Why you might ask? Well not for any particular character flaw or anything - it actually boils down to the clothes… and makeup… and face… and attitude... and-

Basically, how in Diavolo's Hell is he supposed to stand out as the world's most singularly beautiful creature if there are FOUR OTHERS that keep stealing his style?? It's a nightmare!!

It didn't take long for the Asmos to start trying to find their own, completely distinct identities like Goth Asmo, Sporty Asmo, Hipster Asmo, etc… All claiming to be WAY better than the original, of course.

As entertaining as it may be to see a bunch of Asmos go through an identity crisis, he wants them GONE and he wants them gone NOW!! He's blowing up Solomon's phone every hour of the day until it gets fixed so better sit tight for a while…

Beelzebub 

You know, this is actually one of those, "Worst Case Scenarios" that Lucifer and Dia drew up shortly after they had their Fall: what does one do with five Beels exactly...?

You can't possibly feed them all, at least not all at once… and letting any one get too hungry is asking for trouble.

Do you let them run through the city streets and chomp up its citizens like a game of Pacman? Scatter them to other realms and hope that they don't do a ton of damage? Pit them against each other in "There-Can-Only-Be-One"-style gladiatorial combat?? 

Well… there isn't really a good solution. Food is still a finite resource but the Beels TRY to be understanding and TRY not to push their luck at mealtime...

It has varying degrees of success, but hey, it's sweet that they're even trying...

Aside from the ever-present threat of being eaten out of House and realm, everybody kind of likes having so many Beels around. They're easy-going and helpful, which generally makes life easier for everyone and like… it's Beel. Who doesn't like hanging out with Beel?

The Beels even get along with each other so they regularly go to the gym and games together. Though it’s not super sportsmanly to switch out Beels between quarters in fangol, it's not technically against any rules either so the past few games have gone very well! (It's he'll, who even reads the rulebook anyway?)

Belphegor 

It actually took a little while to notice that there were even two Belphies, let alone five…

MC would walk into a room and see a Belphie sleeping on the couch. Perfectly normal.

Then, they'd go into another a few minutes later to see Belphie napping a chair… A little off, but still okay.

Well sure, but in the next room he's also apparently on the floor too and….

Wait a minute.

Turns out five Belphies is either a breeze to deal with or absolute hell and there's no in between.

If they're all asleep, things are fine. Just artfully pile them on top of each other like dead bodies in a stealth game and move on.

If they're awake, then there's just way too much Belphie! And they play off each other in just the worse ways… The Anti-Lucifer League has never been so active, much to his brother's dismay...

This can be mitigated slightly by pawning a few off on Beel (who is more than happy to mind his duplicated twin) but that solution doesn't work forever… 

Moreover, the MC can't sleep anywhere without them all gravitating towards them so even the shortest nap results in waking up under a dogpile of cow-men… It's a wonder they don't suffocate...

[lisxdumbr]

hi hi hi!! its the same anon who fell in love with your analysis :> the full translation of mirage is not out yet but what do you think about yuutas deep insecurities and the way he feels like the "worst child" out of the two oh and his kinda alarming coping mechanism of drowning in spice and how his and hinatas colour is the same with different texture and hinatas color is described as sad and lonely and- explodes

HIIII oh em gee, I have to read a proper tl of mirage, you reminded me that,, (I think a tlr I know is working on it?) I ACTUALLY skimmed through it in the morning!! but I didn't pay much attention to it because I'm still crying,, (75 pulls. clenches fist)

ANYWAY. the things you described have been seen before so, ahem, allow me.

Another 2wink ramble ★

Yuta's inferiority complex comes from his childhood experiences, you know, how he was always the small brother who needs to be "protected". Obviously this causes a disconnection in his brain, he sees himself as a person, a teen, who's the same age as Hinata, but the way people treat him are the total opposite. Yuu has an identity crisis derivated from this, that's why he's always trying to differentiate himself from Hina, he just wants a confirmation of who he really is.

This is actually funny (it isn't. It's sad actually, heartbreaking) but both of the twins have identity crisis in total opposite poles. Yuta wants to be his own person so he wants to get separated from Hinata, while Hinata isn't sure of who he actually is, so he needs to stick to Yuta to understand himself more. The painful thing about this is that,, what one of them needs is what damages the other, like opposite poles, they have a lot going on between them.

Yuu repressing his feelings is one of my favorite subjects actually!! Fun fact, I used to study psychology before so I know a bit about this. The reason why he's permanently angry is because he doesn't know how to manage his emotions properly. He never speaks about himself and we constantly see this in a lot of stories (how many times have we seen him having deprecative thoughts but not venting them towards anyone or only whispering them?). Imagine Yuta is a pressure cooker; his anger would be the amount of heat stored inside the pot, now, what happens when a pressure cooker can't vent the vapor properly? It explodes (and it's terrifying honestly) so they have to vent little amounts of vapor to control the pressure. Yuta is exactly this, he vents little amounts of constant anger to repress the actual boiling mess going on inside him. The fact that one of his insane conducts is hurting himself with spice is so,, interesting; he copes by hurting himself with the thing he loves the most. Pain is a way of repression but the thing causing that pain is what he claims to love (isn't it philosophical, even?).

Now Hinata is a different subject, as I said, Hina goes through a lot of identity crisis too, but he's more,, cautious hiding his feelings. Hina doesn't need to behave as a boiling pot, Hina is basically freezing. Permanently quiet, immovable until his feelings go numb (to make a physical analogy). Sora is obviously able to see through this, that's why Hinata has said before "when everyone asks me if I'm ok, it's easy to smile to them and answer, but when Sora asked me if I was happy... I couldn't lie to that child".

Hinata is,, going through a lot, Yuta has already revealed himself a little in the main story but Hinata lacks this development, I really hope he finds something or someone who's able to free him from that mess, he deserves to be happy too.

[vicontheinternet]

Thing that f*te the winx saga could've used to make it more ✨mature✨. I got this idea from two ppl but I literally can not find their post update: found one found the other one. If you want to take any of these ideas feel free just credit me and send a link over this way when its ready to get published.

Season 1

Have stormy take the identity of princess varanda of Callisto as a nod to the cartoon instead of Beatrix which was easy to guess

make them college age (in multiple different dubs alfea is a college)

Have the Brandon/sky switch but have it effect Brandon more because sky is closer to his father then he is because he can't be himself and have stella be in on it.

Have the love triangle be between aisha sky and bloom. Where Aisha and sky are in a arranged marriage they love each other in a platonic way but there is no love loss between them.

Split Aisha into two people aisha and layla twins/Irish twins with one having the standard mahogany brown/cinnamon brown hair and the other having the reddish brown pink highlight hair one being the fairy of oceans and tides and the other being the fairy of fluids

Have the switch be between aisha and layla who are swapping to see how each other life’s are

Give the parent plotlines that gave to Stella back to aisha (Stella’s plot with her mom is very close to Aisha’s in the cartoon at least to me.)

Have Aisha and Stella be from rival realms

Introduce diaspro you know the girl who is blonde mean and in a love triangle with sky and bloom. fate!stella is practically diaspro

Do away with fate's magic system because winx club already had their own with more categories

Make Aisha a teacher assistant/student teacher instead of Farah suck up (My reasoning on this is that yes she is still the same age as the other girls namely stella but she created her own subcategory of how to use magic. She is really advanced and using advanced spell and skills to the point where some adult trouble with. I also feel like its another way for her parents to keep control over her.)

Make Aisha a specialist in a act of rebellion

Make tecna a specialist who is a gamer girl/hacker

Have diaspro and bloom be long lost sisters

Have stella and diaspro be sisters

stella, aisha and diaspro where roommate the previous year since both stella and Aisha were 17 when they debuted and have the be ra’s

instead of stella accidentally blinding her former roommate she preformed a convergence spell that was above her skill level and blinded her roommate or herself along with blewing up the dorm (which would come full circle in the way that her and her former roommate was out of balance, but when she does it with the girls it goes over smoothly. "When your hand is holding mine" they transform thanks to the power of friendship love and a Successful convergence spell and they gain transformation magic)

have stella blind herself on accident because of the bad way she was taught magic.

Have stella and Aisha be from rival kingdoms

make queen luna into countess cassandra

I like the idea of every time stella uses her power it bleaches her hair with the raw power of sun she is able to harness because the uv waves until it slowly becomes a pale blonde 

Have Aisha cling to every authority figure to fill the void that was left by her parents being so closed off towards her

Have Aisha be borderline clingy or even a little jealous towards her friends because she doesn’t understand how friendship works. Not understanding how boundaries works because her parents were not hands on parents. And just generally not understanding her emotions how to proceed them and how to express them for that reason too.

Have Aisha have a different view on love and how you should love someone and be loved by someone because of her parental trauma.

Show Aisha cracking under the pressure and expectation to be the perfect princess for her realm. Instead of the toilet incident then randomly being bad at her magic that went no where.

Instead of bloom setting the fire in her parents house out of anger have it be in her sleep have it be a throwback to the show when she was transforming in her sleep

Have mike and vanessa know about her powers and have her practice her powers safely with the help of her firefighter father

Have Vanessa be a Italian immigrant

Instead of Rosalind being trapped down there it would be Argulus a former classmate of farah’s who went to shadow haunt and got corrupted

Instead of rosalind being trapped have it be icy in alfea and Darcy in cloud tower with beatrix stormy in disguise trying to break them out

Instead of rosalind being trapped have it be the last ancestral witch

Fully comment to mixing musa with darcy

Utilize the dragon flame water star and starlight having designated host

Have daphne successfully escaped and go into hiding with bloom on earth

Say that the reason why fairies don’t transform anymore is because they wings keep getting plucked off as a throw back to the trix and galatea subsequently leaving them powerless so they evolved from it and it happened so long ago that nobody ever taught the new generation how to transform and with each generation they lost that part of them and bury it deep and deep inside of them.

Season 2

Introduce Brandon as stella's personal guard one of the solarian royal guard place there by queen luna due to Stella’s antics last season.

Introduce Brandon as relative of silva like nephew or giving Stella’s divorce parents plotlines to him saying that he grew up with both parents but after the divorce they feel out of touch because his mom took him home to her realm. Double point if he used to be friends with sky then moved to solaria as a child.

Introduce flora as the botany/earth and tecna as the air teacher

Introduce the wizards to teach a red fountain and introduce nabu that way since it was a school for wizards in s1 of the cartoon

[thehomothings]

Analysis of Kite's conflicting moralities, relationship with death, and the toll reincarnation may take on one's psyche

So, today I decided to compile all the thoughts I have had about Kite's interesting worldview since the first time I saw him into one post, mostly for my own sake, really. If you're familiar with the few posts I've made, you know it's gonna be a mess, but hopefully a comprehensible mess.

A heads up, this is going to be spoiler-heavy, and very much deal with subjects of death and dying as a whole. Also, some of these conclusions are drawn from my own experiences and close brushes with death, I'm not going to go into much detail but it might get personal and definitely dark. I'm not even sure if I can call this a meta-analysis, and I'm obviously no expert, so mayhaps take all of this with a grain of salt.

Been getting into drawing lately, and during the more simple and mindless part of the painstaking process of dotting every single star in this, I let my thoughts wander through the latest part of the fic I'm writing, and I got a better grasp on what exactly made Kite such an elusive character to me.

I'm not quite sure why I got so attached to Kite. Perhaps it was the air of tragedy surrounding him, how despite his sordid past he remained still open and gentle even if outlined by a healthy dose of cynicism.

But sometimes, I think it's the fact that he is so paradoxical. He's brave, yet fears death to such a degree that creates a whole Nen ability around it, is a pacifist yet will not hesitate to spill blood for his own sake or someone else's. Despite the many ultimatums and warnings of 'I will not protect you', he gave his arm and then his life to save Gon and Killua. He approaches each hunt and battle with a clear plan of action in mind, but his Hatsu takes the form of a roulette that gives him random weapons which are never what he wants, but what he seems to need for that exact situation, which he cannot dispel without using. When he draws a weapon, the decision is locked in and his or his opponent's fate is sealed. That's why each time he dubbs his weapon a bad roll. Every time he has to gamble, he sees himself as having run out of luck. When it comes to having to choose between himself and somebody else...well, there had never been a choice. In fact his aversion to using it may feed into its sheer power that we, unfortunately, saw too little of.

Let's go over his very first appearance when he saves Gon from the mother Foxbear.

It's not hard to see the strain searching for Ging has put on him; he's rash, prone to anger and punching a child for daring to get into trouble. In his mind, he's failing at his most important task, has not yet earned the right to call himself a hunter despite being in possession of his very own hunter license.

After killing the mother Foxbear and raging about having done so, he says this interesting line:

So yes, he finds killing for any reason rather irksome as most would do, yet I think something deeper caused him to absolutely lose it in this scene:

He had not been aware of Gon's identity, and despite being an animal lover and a naturalist, he made a choice to save the human instead of allowing nature to run its course. In fact, he says: 'No beast that harms a human must be allowed to live.'

How does one weight one life against another? How is the worth of it determined? The value of life... an impossible choice he's faced with and a choice which he seems to regret to some degree.

The Foxbear cub.

Here, he's speaking from experience, a tangible loss he has felt himself, and a hard and bitter life he does not want to impose on the cub.

His backstory is exclusive to the 2011 anime adaptation but there are hints alluding to it in the manga, for example, the fact that he does not seem to know his birthplace, or:

The choice of words is chilling.

Reading between the lines, one could draw the conclusion that he is an orphan. Something supporting this hypothesis is how he visibly deflates after Gon tells him his parents have (presumably) died.

So we see he is willing to go against his own moral code of not killing as to not doom another living being to the life he led, a lonely, hopeless existence that could barely be called one. He saw it best to put down the cub rather than leave it to die a painful, slow death.

The reason Kite himself isn't as cynical and cold-hearted as one would be after witnessing cruelty in its rawest form is those small crumbs of human kindness which he may have found in Ging.

It was not only a chance at an honorable life being Ging's apprentice gave him, but it also 'saved' him from being broken and twisted into what he hated and worst of all, death.

If we take that one minute of backstory as canon to his character-which I find myself inclined to do- these quirks of his make much more sense. He lived on the run. He lived on the knife's edge between giving up or pushing forwards. He lived as so a wrong move could be the difference between survival and the end.

Between rock and a hard place creates a mentality of black and white, absolute good or extreme evil, this or that. Except in reality, it's much harder than that. Deciding who to save and who to strike down is a heavy burden to bear.

It's almost easy to see how struggling to keep surviving could lend itself to a crippling fear of death and subsequently developing a Nen ability which once more goes against his own moral code in order to give himself a second chance...yet something about it strikes me as unlikely when I look at it this way.

Living life knowing it could end at any moment has the opposite effect, at least for me it did. One comes to accept that it is fleeting and while not eager to let it go, when death eventually and inevitably does come, there is no fighting it.

Especially when there is no hope that tomorrow will be a better day than this one.

Frequent near-death experiences numb one's fear in a way, even if it drives them to take precautions that render it unlikely to happen again and results in c-PTSD, but still, it does. It sparks a certain nihilistic view of 'if it all can end so easily, then what's the point of it all?'

Unless there are things to live for, a sure promise of a better future, and Ging gave Kite that. When he faced the threat of losing his second chance at life:

Really, what else could lead someone to develop the ability of 'the hell I'm going to die like this'?

I think a separate event, an even more brutal near-death experience that almost cost him his life as the hunter he so strived to be set him off to develop the secret roll of Crazy Slots, what I call Roll No.0, Ars moriendi. Unlike other weapons, it cannot come up in random and is directly summoned by him, or better said, summon by his overwhelming will to keep going and hopelessness of fighting a losing battle. I don't believe roll No.3 was the weapon that allowed him to reincarnate. I've named that one Wand of Fortune, a sort of armor instead of an offensive weapon since I find it hard to believe Kite, a Conjurer, would not focus on defences as well, and I will go into both mechanisms of these weapons hopefully in his backstory.

Despite knowing this battle to be a pointless one and being acutely aware of his soon to be demise, he did not immediately draw Ars moriendi, no, he stayed back and fought for the sake of the boys, kept Neferpitou occupied until they could reach safety. We can see evidence of this in the aftermath of the battle that seemed to have gone on until dawn, a torn apart landscape only signaling a fraction of the devastation that was Kite's power unleashed. It still wasn't enough.

In the anime sub I watched, when Gon apologizes to Ging about Kite's death, Ging said a sentence that infuriated me, because it belittled the utter suffering of the NGL trio.

"He would not die in your place." (No screenshot, sorry)

And I remember practically shouting at the screen, screaming 'how could you possibly say that? Of course he did. He absolutely did die in their place. How could you not know your own apprentice? Why-'

It was only last night that it hit me why Ging would say that.

Once upon a time, maybe Kite would not have given his life for anybody under any circumstances, even if he had a way out of it all. He would still need to die to come back to life.

His Thanatophobia could be attributed to the (possibly untreated) PTSD of the near-death experience in his later life, being so certain of dying that finding himself alive afterwards drove him to never want to go through that again. He quieted his fear by creating a sort of a loophole, that even if he lost the battle he would remain. Ging remembered that, but as evidence shows, something changed. Maybe he healed a bit, perhaps growing up dulled his fear to a certain degree, but eventually when it came down to his life or another's, he didn't choose himself.

Now, I can hear you saying 'but he didn't die, so what are you going on about??' And so I reply: Yes, he is alive, but he did die. He experienced that painful, horrible moment of staring death in the eyes and thinking 'This is it, this is the end', went through the actual process of having his soul removed from his body. And that moment stretches into infinity, ten lifetimes condensed into the mere seconds before oblivion.

Dying isn't so hard if one stays dead.

It's not so easy to open one's eyes and find oneself alive again after that, no matter how much that is the heart's desire. It's difficult, nigh-impossible to reconcile with life and walk amongst the living when everything had been so final, when death had been accepted to its fullest.

So Kite awakens, the twin of Meruem and back from the dead, his mind and identity both intact and fractured. In that he is Kite is no mistaking, yet he is not the same gentle pacifist whose first reaction upon sensing a monster's aura was to shield two kids from it at the cost of his arm.

I don't think many of you are familiar with Zoroastrian ideology, but Togashi is known for loving his religious imagery, and it's not only Christianism he derives inspiration from (evidence of which can be seen all over Kite's character and resurrection).

In Zurvanism-a branch of Zoroastrianism- there is talk of the twin spirits: Ahura Mazda -epitome of all that is good- and Ahriman -epitome of all that is evil-, the parent god Zurvin decides that the firstborn may rule in order to bring "heaven, hell, and everything in between."

Upon becoming aware of this fact, Ahriman forcibly tears through the womb to emerge first. Sounding familiar yet?

Zurvan relents to this turn of events only on one condition: Ahriman is given kingship for 9000 years, and then Ahura Mazda may rule for eternity.

Meruem ruled for 40 days, his death leaving the throne vacant for ant Kite, wearing a dead girl's face and seeming to be brewing some nefarious plan. No more is there any sign of that unrelenting pacifism and the sanctity of life he held so high, losing his own may have only served to show him how meaningless the pain and suffering he went through had been, dying only to be reborn as a member of the species that killed him. It may be that he has no desire to rule over the remaining Chimera ants or create an army of his own-

Yet I dread to think what a broken mind possessing limitless power might do to the world.

And that's it. If you made it this far, thank you for reading! If you found it interesting, stay tuned, as I think a lot and I will make it your problem.

[mostlycompetentwriter]

Domesticated Drabble

Pairing: Bang Chan x Y/N

Genre: Marriage AU; Sequel; Drabble

Warnings: So. Much. Fluff. (small smut scene at the beginning); language

Request: 

A/N: Finally finished this one! Please enjoy another taste of my favorite AU!

5 Years Later

“We’ve got five minutes,” I whispered against the pulse point on Chan’s neck, the throbbing vein pumping hard as he panted for breath from above me, eyes shut tight together as he moaned.

“I’ll blow at any second,” Chan cursed, laying sloppy kisses wherever he could reach while fucking me hard and fast.

“Your cock feels amazing,” I practically purred, digging sharp nails into the milky white skin of his back, legs closing in around his waist to keep him close. 

“Oh, sweetie, you’re laying it on thick this morning, aren’t you?”

I clenched a vice-grip around the length pumping inside me in response, sending Chan’s hips stuttering against my own. “I’ve got kids in the next room who can wake-up at any second. Excuse me for trying to inflate your ego.”

“That’s not the only thing inflating,” Chan gasped, curling his fingers through mine.

“You’re gross,” I huffed, closing my eyes and throwing back my neck as best as I could in this position: laid out under my husband, orgasm approaching at a meteoric-level speed, and sweat coating my skin in a delightful sheen as the muscles around my abdomen worked overtime to milk Chan for everything that he had before the moment was ruined by my kids. 

I half-expected them to burst into the room unannounced at any second, oblivious to their parents fucking in much of the same way that created them in the first place. Locked together with limbs intertwining, sucking in each other’s air, and kisses rough and demanding. 

Fuck it had been far too long since Chan and I had last done anything even remotely this intimate, and it was still necessary for us to go at it as fast as possible to prevent unwanted eyes from accidentally catching us at the height of our passion. 

I couldn’t help but glance at the clock, realizing that we had been fucking for almost ten minutes, and the alarm had been set for 7:00 AM so that I could somehow wrestle my kids together for their first day of school. 

Damn, this is gonna turn out to be a very long day.

“Are you close?” I asked Chan, connecting our lips for a sweet kiss since I personally knew that they were a weakness of his.

“Yeah,” he said, features collapsing into a look of pure concentration as a guttural moan found its way crawling up his throat to release itself at the same moment when I could feel his release emptying into the condom separating us from complete skin-to-skin by a thin layer of latex.

But I insisted on wearing them now.

“You’ll cum too, sweetie,” Chan whispered, laving his tongue across the pad of his thumb before reaching down to connect with my clitoris, drawing rough circles in random patterns to snap the physical breaking point: holding my tongue to prevent myself from screaming as I rode the waves of pleasure until nothing was left but a delicate haze and the sensation of Chan’s cock still stuffed inside my spent pussy.

As it turns out, aftercare with Chan was the equivalent of my husband spewing my praises while insisting on letting his cock soften completely before pulling out: cock warming at its finest.

“Do you plan to pull out?” I asked him, smirking when he whined and buried his face into the side of my neck.

“It’s been a while since we’ve been like this,” Chan remarked.

“The kids need to get up soon,” I said, although there was a sleepy pull weighing down my eyelids. A good fuck tended to wear me out. “They’ve got their first day.”

“Yeah,” Chan agreed, but he made no effort to separate us. In fact, I could imagine us both easily falling back to sleep.

“You’re coming right?” I asked around a yawn. “To their Kindergarten orientation or whatever the hell they call it.”

“Of course,” Chan said, and he finally lifted his head from my shoulder, gaze soft as he took his time to explore my features. “I can’t miss that.”

“What? Watching the teachers drag them away for the first day of the education system they’ll be stuck in for the next thirteen years?”

“You have a way with words, sweetie.”

I grinned. “Maybe I’m just using words to deny the weirdness of my kids starting school and making me feel like I’m 100 years old.”

“It feels like they were just born,” Chan agreed, and he slowly rose himself into a sitting position, climbing out of bed to give me the best view of his naked ass.

“Your ass looks great by the way.”

“Thanks,” Chan snorted, reaching for a pair of black slacks from the floor. “I’m taking a shower.”

“Fine,” I groaned. “I guess I’ll go awaken the sleeping monsters.”

“Let the chaos begin,” Chan announced, closing the bathroom door behind him as I reached down deep into the reserves to muster enough energy to finally get out of bed.

At the risk of sounding too long-winded, the best way I could describe my twins was with a touch of irony. Because, despite looking identical to one another, my girls couldn’t be more opposite in terms of personality. 

Leah, the eldest by one minute, was boisterous, loud, and unapologetic when it came to being herself. She was the epitome of a social butterfly, jumping from one person to the next and asking questions that occasionally raised a few eyebrows because of their brazenness.

Her sister, Rose, was nothing like that. In fact, Rose hardly spoke at all, choosing to listen instead, and offer her voice only when she truly felt the need to include it. Of course, side-by-side, they were another thing altogether, far too energetic for me to handle.

This morning was no exception, chasing Leah around the house because she refused to change out of her pajamas, questioning me relentlessly on why it mattered that she had to change.

“I should wear what I want!” she insisted, and I had nearly lost my patience with her until Chan entered the room, and he was one of the only people who could talk through to Leah.

Him and Felix, of course.

Before Felix moved out, he and Leah were practically inseparable, and I could see her uncle’s influence in a lot of different ways.

“You want to look your best to make new friends, right?” Chan asked her, and after a laughable look of concentration, Leah nodded and allowed me to change her into a much more suitable dress.

“There,” I grumbled, turning my attention to Rose who was more willing to be dressed.

“Let’s go have breakfast, yeah?” Chan whispered to Leah, and she smiled and giggled at her father as he took her hand and led her into the kitchen. 

I scoffed at how easy he was able to manage her, glancing at Rose who was even more quiet than usual. “Aren’t you excited for your first day?”

She shrugged, looking down at her hands. “I don’t want to leave you.”

I could feel my heart breaking at her sweet words, cupping her face between my hands as I tried to reassure her that she would still see me in the afternoons and evenings. “It’s just a little break,” I said, but I knew that Rose was harder to convince.

In the meantime, Chan and I worked together to have both twins fed and ready to leave the house, packing them lunches for school before ushering everyone out the door because we were teetering on the edge of being too late. 

At least Chan had the wherewithal to warm-up the car, and it gave us more time to fasten everyone into their car-seats before pulling out onto the main road, speeding into the downtown district with the clock ticking away. “Well, at least the other parents will think we’re irresponsible.”

“I’ve got this,” Chan said, and I shivered as he toed the gas and grazed just going over too fast. 

“At the risk of getting a ticket-”

“Relax, sweetie,” Chan interrupted, reaching over to take my hand. “I’ll handle everything.”

“Uh-huh,” I murmured, glancing up into the rearview mirror to see Leah and Rose engaged in their learning tablets. Even if they were a few minutes late, my kids would still be the smartest. I had made sure of that, spending countless hours with them reading as many books as I could buy, digging out paper and pencils to practice their names and alphabet letters, and reading tons of online articles about the best methods to ensure your child’s early learning set them up for the most success.

Right? So what if we were a little late.

“Mommy? Why can’t you both stay with us at school?” Rose suddenly inquired from the backseat.

I sighed, turning around to face her. “Mommy and Daddy both have to go to work, okay? We’ve already had our turn at school.”

“Our turn?” Chan chuckled, and I pivoted in my seat to glare at him.

“That’s the kind of language we should be using with them!”

“Did you read that from an online expert?”

“As a matter of fact, I did!” I huffed, and I caught his smile, letting me know that he was just messing around.

“I just want them to do well,” I whispered, and his expression instantly softened at the sound of my tone.

“You’ve done so well, sweetie,” Chan reassured me, squeezing my hand even tighter as he turned into the school’s parking lot, finding an empty spot near the back.

Immediately, I was at the back door, reaching inside to help Rose out of her seat, spinning her around to help her with her brand new bookbag. “There,” I said, once her attention was on me again. “You’re ready.”

“I don’t know...” Rose trailed off, and her eyes held all the uncertainty of a five-year-old who was used to staying at home with her parents and uncle. Not the unfamiliar presences of her peers. 

“Hey,” I said, kneeling down to meet her gaze straight-on. “I know it seems scary, but I promise that you’ll really love it. I was the same way too on my first day, but my mom gave me the same advice, and guess what? She was right. I ended up loving school, and if there’s a little piece of me in you, then I know that you’ll have so much fun that you’ll forget all about your mommy and daddy.”

Rose’s eyes grew bigger, shaking her head in a manner that was quite endearing. “I won’t ever forget you.”

“I know, sweetheart,” I said, pulling her close for a hug as Chan and Leah emerged from the other side.

“Everything okay?” Chan asked, looking between me and his daughter.

“Just fine,” I said, ruffling Rose’s hair before standing tall again. “Let’s go inside.”

The classroom was already full of students, and I was glad to see some parents lingering, which meant we weren’t as late as I had thought.

“Told ya,” Chan snickered, and I gave him a playful glare before turning my attention to the approaching teacher: an older gentleman with a head of pepper and salt colored hair and kind eyes.

“Hello,” he said, addressing me first. “I’m Mr. Park.”

“Hi,” I said, accepting his handshake. “These are my daughters: Leah and Rose Bang.”

“Ah!” Mr. Park remarked, glancing down. “I’m excited for our twin students! Please, have a seat wherever you’d like.”

“Go on,” I encouraged them when I caught their matching looks of insecurity. “You have each other,” I added, reaching down to wrap their fingers together, giving them one last smile before Leah bravely led her sister further into the room, selecting an empty table near the back.

“Well, it’s so nice to meet you,” Mr. Park said, and I noticed that he had grown a little too close, gaze lingering for far too long. 

“Yes,” I agreed, “And this is my-”

“I’m Chan,” my husband interrupted, inserting himself between me and Mr. Park with a brusque movement. “The father.”

I rolled my eyes at his tone, watching as Mr. Park hesitated before nodding and shaking Chan’s outstretched hand. “Nice to meet you.”

I smirked, waiting until Mr. Park had moved on before leaning in to Chan. “What was that, dear?”

Chan scoffed, searching the room for a moment. “He was flirting with you, sweetie. What did you expect me to do?”

“Well, it could be from our morning romp, but it kinda turned me on.”

Chan raised a suggestive brow at my comment, but I gave him a cheeky smile in response before walking in the direction of Leah and Rose’s table. “Look at you two,” I remarked. “I think you made a good choice.”

“I like seeing outside,” Leah said, and I nodded and tucked away a wayward strand of hair. 

“You’ll both stay together, right?”

I received synchronous nods in response, and there was a lot of relief on my end knowing that my girls would be just fine. 

“We’ll be here to pick you up at 2:00,” Chan said, pointing to the analog clock above the door. “Okay?”

Two more nods. “Remember to have fun. You’re gonna learn so much, and maybe you’ll even be smarter than daddy.”

I managed to elicit two laughs in response to that, and Chan chuckled as he wrapped an arm around my waist. “Be good, alright?”

“Yes, daddy,” Leah replied diligently while Rose nodded her head, attention drifting to a book sitting at the edge of the table.

I smiled knowing that she was showing interest, and then I realized that there was a deeper part of me that was having just as much trouble leaving the girls as they were having with leaving me and Chan. But the other parents were starting to leave the room, and with one more exchange of our goodbyes, Chan and I were walking away from our girls, keeping our own hands locked together as the door closed behind us.

“Woah,” I sighed once we were outside in the hallway. “That was harder than I expected.”

“It’s a big step,” Chan said, and he wrapped an arm around my waist to pull me closer. “But they’ll be okay because they’re ours.”

“Oh,” I laughed. “Is that so?”

“Of course,” Chan said, giving me a perfectly serious look before a smile overtook his features, and any previous doubts were vanquished by the sincerity in that smile, and I knew that as long as I had Chan, then nothing would ever be too difficult to overcome. 

[bondsmagii]

omg you read we need to talk about kevin? what did you think? i went through a whole range of emotions, most of them bitter & negative, bc i saw too much of my mum & brother in eva & kevin, something i’m still working through. i started off hating eva bc i projected my resentment towards my mum onto her, but i found myself sympathising with her a bit more towards the end. it’s helped me sympathise a bit with my mum too. this book has probably had the most lasting effect on me than any other!

man, I love that book. I first read it years ago and liked it then, but I recently reread it and I loved it even more. it's such a brilliant book -- profoundly uncomfortable and incredibly bleak, but I think it asks so many important questions that, face it, most people are too scared to even acknowledge. it simultaneously asks the huge taboo of a question -- what if you regret having your child? what if a child is just born bad? -- and also combines it with that other big question: why do kids shoot up their schools? the nature vs nurture debate has been absolutely raging for years regarding children who commit violence at school; as someone with an academic interest in this particular crime, it's one I've banged my head up against multiple times. people seem to always be firmly in one camp: the parents are to blame, or the kid is just evil. nobody seems to consider the interaction between these two things, and how it's always ultimately a choice.

the book is a pretty intense read for me, as I'm sure you can relate. the difference is that while you can see your mother and brother in Eva and Kevin, I actually see myself and my mother in Eva and Kevin. I was an unwanted and a resented child. my parents did not want to have me. I was what my parents referred to as "a surprise", said in the same tone as you would describe a sudden house fire as a surprise, or bad news at work as a surprise. the major difference between my parents and Eva and Franklin was that they had me very young (they would have been 19 and barely 20 when they found out, and 20 and barely 21 when I was born) and this most certainly added to the resentment. my father was always away for work, often getting to go to some pretty interesting destinations; my mother wanted to be the kind of woman who wanted to be a stay-at-home mother, but she hated it. like Eva and Kevin, my mother and I were very, very alike in personality and what we did and did not want out of life, and we were engaged in some level of warfare for my entire childhood. while I wasn't quite on the level of Kevin in terms of blinding my siblings and whatnot, I was quite the terror as a child. by the time I reached my teenage years I was uncontrollable and my parents had given up trying. I could not be punished. I did not care. any punishment they did hand out, I was maliciously compliant to the point of infuriation. I'm sure my parents could argue that I was born evil, and indeed that's what they told the extended family. I admit I was not an easy child. however -- I was a child.

I did not ask to be born, and when my parents made the choice to have me and then resent my existence, that was on them. a child knows. a child can tell when he's not wanted, when he's an inconvenience. I knew it very well, from an early age. my parents' resentment of me resulted in them abusing me right up until I left home. I was like an unwanted pet, except they couldn't dump me off at a shelter. no, they never laid a finger on me physically, so they can claim they didn't abuse me -- but emotionally and psychologically they were abusive, and especially in my teenage years, they neglected me severely. (think along the lines of being left at home alone for extended periods with no food, no money, and no way to get supplies as we lived in rural Ireland and the closest supermarket was 30 minutes away. this was not something they did out of malice, but rather something they did because they did not consider me at all. they forgot my existence, most of the time, or they deemed me so inconsequential that making provisions for me was a task that could be forever put off.) understandably this made me hate them in return, and I took great pleasure in being a little shit. it was all I had. nature vs nurture, which is it? my parents weren't exactly nurturing, and they taught me very bad behaviour -- but at the same time from the moment I was born I had my mother's personality, predisposing me to being a little shit. even now, grown up and after many years of working on myself, I still find myself fighting the urge to be as cruel and as judgemental as she could be; likewise I see those positive qualities she had, that she could have shown more of if she had put the work in like I had. we went from being furious carbon copies of one another to an example of the best and the worst case scenario.

basically what it comes down to is choice. Kevin and I had a similar situation going on, but Kevin chose to try and find what he was looking for in mass murder, and I chose to try and find it by getting out of my house and never returning. I mentioned earlier that I have an academic interest in the kind of crime that Kevin committed; since the age of 17 I have been researching these things, and now have expertise in several specific incidents. I bring this up to illustrate that this crime was on my radar when I was around Kevin's age, when I was suffering from the same problems as he was. thousands of kids find themselves in this position, yet so relatively few commit the act. why? it's choice. nature, nurture -- it doesn't matter. there comes a point where you have to make the choice, and honestly? it's chaos theory, baby.

as well as researching this kind of thing I'm also an amateur meteorologist. I love weather. I love trying to work out what makes it tick. and weather is a good example of what I'm trying to say here. weather cannot be predicted. we can get decent ideas, but at the same time we never really know for sure and also weather acts differently every time. there are too many variables. it's the entirety of the earth's atmosphere we're talking about here. identical weather conditions can arise time and time again, and each time the weather is different. a sunny afternoon one day is a washout the next. this is because -- and I broadly sum it up here -- there are so many tiny variables that we cannot possibly predict how they will change the weather. and I mean it's tiny variables. I'm sure you've heard of the butterfly effect -- this comes from the idea that a butterfly somewhere on the coast of Africa can flap its wings, and this tiny reverberation can spread through the atmosphere, creating a bigger and bigger ripple, until a hurricane smashes into the Gulf of Mexico. tiny atmospheric changes all interacting in ways we cannot imagine. this is why some kids shoot up schools. it's easy to look at psychology broadly, but no two people are ever the same. siblings growing up in the exact same house are not the same. identical twins, genetically identical to their very DNA, are not the same. tiny, tiny events, microdoses of chemicals in the brain, exposures -- they all change us in subtle ways. two people -- Kevin and I -- can grow up with almost identical familial issues and outlooks, but Kevin shoots up his school and I study my ass off and get myself to university to escape my parents. why? I don't know. I don't know what tiny little things might influence me one way and another kid in the other. personality, brain chemistry, waking up that morning and having enough or not -- I don't know. it's chaos theory. the variables are too small to say. nature vs nurture are only two variables out of millions. it's an oversimplification.

so to go back to the book -- who do I blame? neither of them. it was a perfect storm. we could say Eva didn't help, but I know of plenty of kids with decent parents who still committed such a crime. we could say that Kevin was just born bad, but there are plenty of people with his resentful outlook on life who don't commit mass murder, or any harm against anyone whatsoever. it's like how every tornado comes from a supercell, but not every supercell will spawn a tornado -- that final genesis point is unknown to us. we just can't predict it. there are no easy answers. there is no simple formula. we just don't know, and that's what makes Kevin's story -- and its real-life counterparts -- so terrifying.

[emy-loves-you]

The Heat Between Us

This was written for the Sanders Sides Unpopular Ships Challenge, Day 2: Intruality!

Summary: Patton doesn’t like to be touched. But maybe he’d be ok if it was Remus touching him

Pairing: Intruality

Word Count: 2225

Warnings: Severe child neglect, child abuse, drugs, touch starvation, touch repulsion, starvation (Patton has a really bad childhood)

Patton didn’t touch people.

It’s not like he didn’t want to touch people. Well, for a while it wasn’t. When Patton was little, he loved the idea of touch. He would hug his pillows and wrap himself in blankets, pretending that he was getting the bestest hug ever. He would hold his own hand and giggle, imagining that he was shaking someone else’s hand.

He would cry in bed at night, a new bruise on his cheek, wondering why he wasn’t allowed to touch.

Patton wasn’t allowed to do a lot of things. He couldn’t leave his room (“Why do you need to leave? We give you food every day, and you have your own bathroom. You don’t need more, you ungrateful brat!”), he couldn’t ask for more food (“Stop being so greedy! We fed you yesterday! Are you calling me a liar?!”), he couldn’t tell anyone anything. That last rule seemed redundant, since Patton never actually saw anyone, but he followed it anyway.

But the rule that made him sad was the no-touch rule.

Patton didn’t get to actually see people often- only when they remembered to feed him or clean his laundry- but they hated it when Patton touched them. They would scream and yell and hit him until he was begging them to go away. After a while, Patton only associated ‘touch’ with ‘pain.’

When Patton was 10, he was surprised to find someone other than them (he didn’t actually know their names, but he refused to call them his mom and dad) kick open the door. Patton vaguely recognized the thing in their hand as gun-weapon-hurt and whimpered, running to hide in the bathroom. There wasn’t a lock on the bathroom door, but the person seemed to realize that Patton was not happy right now, so they stayed outside and talked to him through the door.

After a while of one-sided talking, Patton was eventually coaxed out of the bathroom. The police officer (Patton had been panicking too much to remember their name) reached out to touch him and he flinched, already wanting to run back to the bathroom. When they asked if he was hurt, Patton shook his head (rule number 3: don’t tell them anything) and asked if they could not touch him.

Patton learned that the people who took care of him were drug dealers, and no one knew that they had a son. They had been arrested a few days ago (his painfully empty stomach agreed with that), and the officer was checking the house for any incriminating evidence when they stumbled upon Patton’s locked door.

They asked Patton a lot of questions, but Patton refused to answer. He might have broken a rule by leaving his room, but he wasn’t going to break the rest of them. And besides, he didn’t trust them with how many times they tried to touch him. They already made him get looked at by a doctor, and he was nearly sobbing in pain by the end of it. Every touch felt like he was on fire, and it hurt almost as much as getting hit.

After that, Patton was sent to some foster homes. Homes, plural, because no one seemed to want Patton for more than a few weeks before sending him back, wanting nothing to do with him. It was probably because Patton wanted nothing to do with them either. He was used to being alone, only seeing people on the cracked TV in his room. So when these people wanted him to talk to them about things he’d never heard, play games that he’d never played before, or even touch him, he didn’t give them smiles and ‘thank yous.’ Instead, he screamed and cried and ran away, finding tiny places to curl up and hide.

Eventually, he was sent to a family that understood that he didn’t want to be touched. Lydia and Samantha Heart were okay with Patton not wanting to be touched. They didn’t force him to spend time with them other than meals (so they knew he was eating enough), but they always offered him a chance to spend time with them, doing whatever he wanted. It was… baffling, to have someone understand, but Patton was happy with it. They started fostering him when he was 13 and fully adopted him when he was almost 15.

Patton eventually became used to his new life. He learned that he loved to draw, since it let him express things that he didn’t know how to write. He liked to draw things that he saw on the cracked TV in his old room, like fairies and princesses. He spent a lot of time hiding away in his room, but now he spends more time out in the living room with his new parents. He liked to call them ‘Madre’ and ‘Momma.’ Madre taught him how to make different desserts and Momma taught him how to knit and crochet. He was struggling to catch up with his ‘school’ work (he didn’t understand why he needed it, he’d never gone to ‘school’ before and most of the work seemed pointless) but they were helping him a lot through homeschooling, with Madre teaching him math and science while Momma taught him history and english.

But even after all of that, Patton didn’t want to be touched. After he started calling them his moms, he tried letting them touch him to make them happy. Casual touches made him flinch, kisses made him hiss, and hugs made him ready to cry. It was painful and he hated it. After a few weeks of trying, his moms let it drop. They weren’t going to force Patton through that. So, Patton never touched anyone. And for a long time, he was fine with that.

But then the Princes moved in next door, and suddenly everything changed.

Mr and Mrs Prince weren’t very interesting, but they were still better than most people Patton had interacted with. Mrs Prince’s smile seemed genuine, and Mr Prince didn’t get upset when Patton didn’t shake his hand. They had two children, a pair of identical twins named Roman and Remus. They were both a year older than Patton, and they went to the local highschool just under a mile away. They were both dramatic and constantly happy, loving to tell stories to anyone who would listen. Some people might say that they were impossible to tell apart, but to Patton they were easy to tell apart (or, more accurately, they were easy to tell apart when they were around Patton).

Patton wasn’t a very big fan of Roman. He was loud, and prideful, and touchy. He liked to yell and draw attention to himself, and Patton hated the second-hand attention he got from hanging out with Roman in public. Roman was also a physically affectionate person, always giving people pats on the back or pulling them into a hug. And while he understood that Patton didn’t like to be touched, physical affection was so natural for Roman that he tended to forget until he was already touching him. That doesn’t mean that Patton disliked Roman, far from it actually. He just preferred it if they weren’t in public together. And have a good amount of distance between them.

Remus was different. He was the quieter twin, for one. He didn’t yell, he didn’t like to draw attention to himself (unless he was messing with Roman), and unlike Roman, Remus understood that the world wasn’t just black and white. Roman’s stories always had a clear hero and villain, where the hero never did wrong and the villain was always irredeemable. But Remus knew that the world didn’t work that way, and the stories he told reflected that. He also understood how much it hurt Patton to be touched, but that he didn’t want people to avoid him like the plague. He always made sure to be as close as physically possible to Patton without touching him, and if he ever needed to touch something near Patton he always told him so they wouldn’t accidentally touch. Other than the one instance where Remus had to push Patton out of the way of a rogue frisbee, they had never touched before. And that was fine. Perfect, even. Until today

Right on the property line between the two houses was a large sycamore tree. Every afternoon, Remus would climb the tall tree and lay amongst its branches as if they were his throne. Patton would always sit at the base of the tree, nestled between its roots. He would look up at the older teen and try to ignore the blush on his cheeks. He was sure by now that he had a crush on Remus, but he would never tell anyone that, especially Remus. After all, who could ever love someone that doesn’t want to be touched?

So every day, Patton would sit under this tree, listening to his crush share his stories. They were dark, and disturbing, usually sad with no concise ending. Most people hated Remus’ stories, so he never told them to anyone outside of Patton. Patton loved his stories. He’d grown up without being taught about empathy or ‘good always triumphs over evil.’ Roman’s stories, like most stories, tended to assume that the audience would naturally emphathize with the characters, which Patton just couldn’t do. Remus knew this, and his stories gave Patton a reason to feel for the characters. They weren’t just random characters that did good because it was the ‘right thing.’ They did it for revenge, or love, or their own selfish goals. And to Patton, it made sense. He understood why he needed to care about these characters, and in a way, it helped him realize why he cared about the teen that came up with them.

One day, Patton was at the bottom of the tree, sketching the afternoon sun while Remus told his story, when the older boy paused. “It looks a lot better from up here.”

Patton frowned, looking up. “What does?”

Remus shrugged. “The sky. The landscape. Everything looks better from up here.” He looked down at Patton and smirked. “Wanna see for yourself?”

Patton blushed and looked away. “But I don’t know how to climb a tree.” He never had a need to climb anything before, and while he could probably climb something like a ladder, there was no way he could climb a tree without help. And ‘help’ meant ‘pull up,’ and that meant ‘touch,’ and Patton did not want to have a panic attack today.

Remus chuckled. “I’ve solved that part. Walk around the tree.” Patton got up and made his way to the back of the tree, where a blue and white rope ladder hung from its branches. “I asked Dad to set it up yesterday while you were at the doctor. Now you can climb the tree with me!”

Patton giggled and hastily climbed the rope ladder, joining Remus up in the tree’s branches. He was right; the sunset was breathtaking from up here. They sat up there for hours just talking about whatever came to mind. Patton loved having these conversations with Remus. He had been trapped alone in that room for so long, with only his thoughts to keep him company. Patton always felt bad after his first foster family told him not to share those thoughts, since they weren’t normal. They were weird, and disturbing, and Patton constantly tried to forget that they ever existed. But with Remus he didn’t have to. With Remus he could say whatever popped up in his mind without fear of being ridiculed. It was nice, and sometimes during these talks Remus would give him a smile that made his entire heart melt.

The sun was setting as they sat next to each other in the tree, laughing and telling fantastical stories. Their shoulders brushed slightly as Remus doubled over with laughter and Patton shuddered at the warmth. Usually the warmth hurt, usually it burned and made him hurt for hours afterwards. But this was different. Now, his heart was warmer than Remus’s touch, and for the first time in years, Patton wanted someone to touch him. Specifically, he wanted Remus to touch him. Remus, the person Patton trusted most in this world.

“Pat?” Patton looked up at Remus, who was still facing the sunset. “I…” He took a deep breath and turned to face Patton. If Patton had been anyone else, he was sure Remus would’ve taken his hand. “I think I love you.”

Patton’s heart both soared and shattered at the same time. “How could you love someone that you can’t touch?”

Remus chuckled. “I would gladly go a thousand years without touching anyone ever again, if it meant I could keep staring at your beautiful face for a few minutes.”

Patton blushed and looked away. Before he could second-guess himself, Patton laid his hand on top of Remus’. It burned, and Patton’s immediate instinct was to pull away, but he didn’t move, relishing in the warmth he felt. “I think I’d like to try. To touch.”

Remus smiled brightly, like Patton had just told him that he’d won a million dollars. “We’ll take it at your pace, okay? Whatever makes you comfortable.”

Patton nodded, looking off at the sunset. “Remus?”

“Yes?”

“I love you too.”

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Taglist: @bisexualdisaster106 @self-taught-mess @arodynamic-enby @sanderssides-angst @whatishappeningrightnow @idont-freaking-know @cute-and-angsty-princess @artsy-enby09 @girl-who-reads @drarrymalecsolangelo @count-woe-laf

[raph-and-spike]

Taking a Swim - Leo x fem!reader

request? yes/no 

I want a Story WITH LEO  It could be also nsfw. 😅🤤🤭 i'm a long friend of April and she make a Meeting between the turtles and me.Leo fall in love with me and dont know how he should tell me that.  We meet us in 4th July at first. Then its the 14.august and the turtles, April, casey and i go Swimming in a little sea... I hope you know the scenes,that i mean..  Have a good day 🤗😘 Nice wishes from germany

a/n: @tkappi I hope you don’t mind that I slightly altered it... I wanted the swimming scene to be a little more intimate ;) I’m sorry this request took so long!! Hope you like it <33 

warnings: NSFW...aka smut. Read at your own risk. For the sake of this being smut, both the reader and Leo will be 18 years old in this imagine. 

Finally, you thought to yourself with a smile of relief as you gripped the straps of your backpack on your walk home. It was summer–which meant you were free from school, free to do whatever you please for the next two and a half months. You couldn’t wait to spend everyday with your best friend, April O’Neil. The two of you had been best friends for as long as you could remember; you knew the redhead like the back of your hand. 

Though, summer didn’t end up going according to plan. Instead, you spent it calling April every morning and afternoon, asking to hang out. At first, she’d claimed that she was spending time with her aunt or hanging out with Casey. You believed her for a while, but once her excuses turned into not answering her phone, you began to get angry. It had already been the beginning of July, and the two of you had yet to hang out once! You’d had it.

Stomping on the pavement to her apartment, your mind raced with millions of different phrases you’d say to her. ‘Why haven’t you been answering my calls?’ was one. ‘Do you not like me anymore?’ was another. As you reached her apartment door, your heart raced through your chest as you brought your knuckles to the hard, painted wood. As it begun to swing open, you froze in your spot. 

“Raph, you could have just used the fire escape–”

You froze as a green figure stood in front of you, wearing an orange mask with matching nunchucks at its sides. You couldn’t move nor could you speak. You felt paralyzed.

“Uh, guys?!” It spoke. 

You looked behind it, two identical creatures standing next to April and Casey. You watched April’s eyes meet yours, her blue orbs widening in fear at your frozen figure. She wasn’t sure what to do or how to alleviate this situation. Panicking, she finally decided to pull you into her bedroom and tell you what she’d been hiding.

“We need to talk,” she stated calmly, grabbing your hand and pulling you into her apartment, leading you into her bedroom.

Once she shut her bedroom door behind you, she took a seat on her bed. You couldn’t find the ability to sit, so you stood in front of her with your arms at your sides.

“I met them at the beginning of last year. My Dad and I...” she struggled for words, “we were taken by these alien robots, called the ‘Kraang’.”

You cocked an eyebrow, obviously thinking that she was making this up.

“I know it sounds ridiculous, Y/n, but you have to listen,” she begged.

With a sigh, you sat down on the bed next to her and did as you were told. She told you everything. From when they saved her, to when her father was freed and then mutated, how she'd been trained by her turtle friends’ father–a tall rat, apparently–to be a kunoichi, to their adventures saving the city from not only mutants, but their enemy named Shredder, as well. You had no choice but to believe the redhead. After all, you’d known the girl your entire life. 

“So, that’s why you’ve been dodging my calls?” you asked, rerunning the story she’d just told you over again in your head.

She nodded sadly. “I didn’t mean to ignore you, Y/n. I’m so sorry,” she admitted guiltily. 

You put a hand on her shoulder with a small smile. “It’s okay, April...just promise me that you won’t push me away like that again? I mean, we’ve been through everything together, you can’t get rid of me now with a few mutant turtles,” you said with a laugh. 

She chuckled before pulling you into a hug.

“Actually, the turtles, Casey, and I were going to spend the rest of the summer at the farmhouse, and now since you know about them...” she trailed off before a knocking on the door interrupted her.

“Can you two, like, hurry up or somethin’? Mikey’s eatin’ all the road snacks!” a voice yelled from outside the door.

She rolled her eyes. “Coming, Raph!”

She looked at you, raising her eyebrows. 

“You wanna spend your summer with a couple of mutants at a farmhouse upstate?”

After introducing you to the turtles, and quickly bringing you to your own apartment so that you could fill a suitcase with clothes and other belongings, all seven of you sat in Mr. O’Neil’s Volkswagen bus as Casey drove to April’s farmhouse. With Mikey pestering you with questions–and a certain blue-masked turtle telling him to leave you alone–the ride went by pretty fast. 

The house was beautiful. It was incredibly secluded and quiet, which you preferred much more to the loud, packed city of New York. 

Mikey offered to cook everyday, often switching with you whenever he was busy sparring with the others, or occupied with comic books. You didn’t mind it, cooking eased your mind. You’d offer to do the dishes afterwards as well. It wasn’t until Mikey had picked up a new compelling comic series, when you’d been picking up cooking and dish-washing duty almost daily. Leo noticed this and offered to help one night. You immediately accepted his offer with a blush.

You ordered him to dry the dishes and put them away after you washed them. It was a steady, easy system between the two of you. He’d ask you questions about your interests and hobbies, and you’d ask him about his. You noticed that he didn’t seem much interested in talking about himself–he seemed rather interested in your answers instead. Talking with Leo was easy. With him, you knew he wouldn’t judge you or make you feel uncomfortable. 

He easily became closer to you than the others, always making excuses to spend time with you, and even asking you to teach him how to cook. You taught him how to make homemade pizzas, much to Mikey’s dinner request, along with some easy pasta dishes. 

One night, as you slept on the twin bed in April’s old childhood bedroom, you felt a tapping on your shoulder. You sat up, peering into the deep blue eyes that still seemed so magnetic in the darkness. 

“I want to show you something,” he whispered. 

Butterflies swarming in your stomach, you grinned.

Quietly tip-toeing down the creeky, aged wooden stairs and out the door, he gently grabbed your hand and began leading you through the grass. Once the two of you headed toward the edge of the forest, you frowned.

“Why are you taking me into the woods?” you asked, suspicion in your voice.

He stopped, a dreamy smile on his lips. “It’s going to be good, I promise.”

You chewed your lip hesitantly, causing his invisible eyebrows to knit together. 

“If I gave you one of my katanas, would you feel safer?” he asked, skillfully pulling the blade out from its sheath on his shell. 

You gladly took it, gripping the wrapped hilt as he lead you deeper into the forest. The broken twigs, rocks, and rough roots weren’t gentle on the bare soles of your feet, but your excitement and nervousness distracted you from it.

At last, a large clearing with a wide pond stared back at you, entirely lit by the large moon in the sky. Your jaw nearly dropped at the beautiful sight in front of you, tossing his katana onto the ground whilst you stared in awe. 

“I found it yesterday,” the blue-masked turtle explained briefly.

You hadn’t noticed that he was staring at you, wondering how the girl of his dreams would react to his discovery.

“Leo, it’s,” you struggled for words, “’incredible’ feels like too small of a word to describe it,” you admitted. 

He chuckled. “I know what you mean, that’s how I felt when I first saw it too... It’s–”

“Perfect,” you finished.

He gazed at you as if you were a star–no, that’s too small. He gazed at you as if you were an entire universe; he felt like a small, floating asteroid compared to you, an entire universe. How were you so perfect? How was creation able to give you such beautiful features, a personality sculpted just for him? Dissecting your mind all this time while the two of you spent so much time together made him realize just how much he’d fallen for you and how much he adored you. 

You watched him as he stared at you intently, an unreadable expression on his face.

“Leo?” you asked hesitantly.

“Can I, uhm, may I...kiss you?” he stuttered, attempting to raise his shoulders back confidently as he waited for your response.

You felt your cheeks turn crimson. With a slow nod, you moved to fill the space between the two of you, watching as he stared at you in awe. Within seconds, he pressed his lips against yours. Surprised, you nearly pulled away before melting against him, wrapping your arms around his neck and closing your eyes. He didn’t attempt to move his lips, after all, he had no experience with kissing whatsoever. You took the initiative to begin moving your lips slowly, knowing not to introduce your tongue just yet. Your lips moved gently against each other’s, and you’d never felt closer to Leo. 

Pulling away to catch your breath, you turned your head toward the pond, and back at Leo. Getting your drift, he grinned, shrugging his other katana off before jumping into the pond. You looked down at your pajamas. Deciding not to get them wet, you slowly pulled your pajama top off, revealing your bra to Leonardo. He watched from the water, cheeks pinker than you’d ever seen them before, as you began to pull down your pajama bottoms. You stood in the cool, summer night air, nearly naked, before jumping into the water with him. With a shriek at the cold temperature of the pond, you attempted to swim toward him before he moved away.

“I have sort of an...issue; we should probably keep our distance,” he admitted, his cheeks still blushing profusely. 

You cocked a brow in confusion. “What?”

He made a downward motion with his head, before it hit you. Your own cheeks flushed once more.

“Well,” you began, slowing making your way toward him, despite his warning, “we can...fix that, if you want.”

You watched as his blue orbs widened, Adam’s apple bobbing as he gulped.

“A-are you sure?” he asked, looking bewildered, shocked that someone as beautiful as you would ever want to do something like that with him. 

You nodded, closing the space between the two of you and forcing his lips against your own. This kiss was incredibly different than the first; it was needy, it was desperate, as if you couldn’t breathe without him in between your legs.

You didn’t waste time introducing your tongue, feeling him do the same as your lips danced sloppily against each other’s, begging for a release of tension. He leant down, grabbing your legs to wrap them around his waist. You easily leant into him, the water helping hold you up, as you felt his hardened length brush against your clothed core. You moaned against his lips, grinding your heat against it. Growling, he brought his hands to your bum, ripping the fabric of your panties off. You gasped, feeling his hands squeeze your bare ass and push you further against him.

With ease, due to how wet you were, he was able to slide his length into you. You groaned, feeling him fill you up.

“Is this okay? A-am I doing this right?” he asked, his voice breathy and raspy.

“Yes, Leo, move,” you begged, resting your forehead against his. 

He thrusted hard, causing you to nearly scream. He continued to thrust, every stroke going deeper and deeper until he developed a steady rhythm. His thrusts quickened as your walls began to clench, grasping onto his plastron as you felt your climax nearing.

“Leo, please,” you groaned, shoving your head into the crook of his neck, trying to muffle your moans into his skin.

He thrusted even faster, squeezing your ass against him as your hips met his movements. Your eyes squeezed shut as your climax hit you, body spasming against him as you felt his own hips still, his cock spurting inside of you. Your body fell weak against him as you felt him gently pull out. He moved his hands to your back, stroking the soft skin whilst he held you against his chest.

The two of you rested there, basking in the moonlight, warm skin pressed against each other. It was then, that Leo knew he was in love. 

[urstruly-ghst]

THE BIG SUNSHINE BOİ WAD SOOO CUTE!! It was so sweet ugh ❤❤❤❤ So how about a smoll sunshine boi with dorm leader !!

smol sunshine 🌞

imma hold the celebration until i finish these drafts,,,, sorry for the delay, homie is busy with school and stuff (also i procrastinated)

riddle rosehearts

This boy is small, he isn't that incredibly tall, but when he saw, smaller than him... He gets a little prideful.

It isn't like 'high and mighty' pride, more like 'oop haha well, i feel slightly confident' thing. He just gets a little boost to his ego.

He teases you at points, saying its cute that a lot of times, you ask for help from him on reaching things. Or when its too tall, you can't see, you ask for Riddle to look at it.

He honestly thinks its so cute and totally vulnerable, it makes him blush whenever you look up to him pouty faced.

He adores your height, but he adores your personality more! He loves the way you beam up to him, cooing praises at his achievements and being a great lover!

The sunshine you bring to him just makes him stunned at points, like wow, he managed to date you! How much luck does he have?

But, like any other scenario, he likes these affections private. It gives him a regal and good image, so do expect the affection indoors alone.

The affection he does is pretty simple, laying his chin on your head, cuddling you and picking you up (he let go after a few tries, it was tiring to carry you), and of course; kisses.

Riddle knows that sometimes being small is an insecurity, after all, its hard that a lot of people tower over you. So he sometimes offers you his heels to walk around in!

But! Don't think he is making fun of you, he just wants you to be comfortable with your height or body.

leona kingscholar

He totally teases you from the beginning. I mean, a magicless herbivore, short and sweet in a school with mages? Are you asking to be eaten by predators or what?

He teases you a lot, from bringing up objects out of your reach, to leaning downwards to talk to you, to simply just calling you "short"

It first irked him that you always beamed and smiled, like his teasing doesn't affect you.

But, later on, he would fall in love with that personality of yours. Both of you didn't even have a proper get together, you just... went with it.

Affections for him always are something that involves your height. For example, you want a kiss? Ask him to lean down, or tiptoe! He just likes the teasing.

Leona, liked picking you up, it gave you a boost to face his tall demeanor as well as it gave a perfect opportunity to kiss you.

Cuddle sessions are what he would bring up to creat the perfect night, day, afternoon, whatever. He loves your small body pressed upon him, making him feel content.

He always takes the "I'm strong and tall so I have protect you" role, to tease the living hell out of you. He likes how you cuddle up and beam with such a cute and innocent smile!

Oh, and the cooing you do. God, it makes this lion weak to his knees, but he won't admit out loud because his ego is high.

Either way, he adores you and if you ever feel the need for him to stop teasing, he would shut up.

He loves you that much.

azul ashengrotto

Oh, well isn't this a new thing? Azul, always next to the Leech twins, found it odd to see someone shorter than him.

What also was new was how you beamed brighter when you saw him in hallway, smiling and laughing happily to greet him

First thing he did when you approach is to always give an offering of a contract with him, after all, it seems like you want something from him

Suffice to say, that he was shocked when you refused, as you only wanted to say hello and be on your merry way

Azul's jaw dropped when he saw how you bounced with pep in your step, greeting those people.

And little did you both know, this was the beginning of his feelings for you. Months after this exchange, he asked you to be his.

The height difference is undeniably cute, you go and depend on him a lot, you go jump whenever you want something, you always have to look up!

How does one be cute all the time and not even knowing?

He always found it adorable when you looked up to him, you looked so vulnerable and cute. He wished to hide you.

Ah, and the friendly teasing he does when you reach up to him, on your tip toes, trying to snag a kiss!

Truly, the wonders of your sunshine makes his insecure heart warm. Azul will never regret offering that contract with you.

kalim al-asim

Kalim isn't your tall man, he is quite a small man. He is of average height at best.

But you? Oh, were so cute and tiny!!

Kalim first saw you in the hallway, sandwiched between Ace and Deuce, looking incredibly small. He waved excitedly at you, and you beamed up to him.

Soon you two became friends, and it was a pleasant friendship.

He always leaned onto you, clinging happily on your arm, cooing at you. He assumed you would blush, but your personality and acceptance to his made him happy!

Kalim didn't waste any second onto asking you out, after all, he seemed sure you were it for him. And when you said yes? He swore he felt the heavens.

His favourite thing to do for you is kissing you, smothering you with his sweet words. He also loved how you jump or tiptoe just to get a kiss

Now, Kalim would never give up on a party, if ever you have a party, he always makes sure you cling to him or vice versa. He knows how easy it is to be lost in the crowd, so makes sure you stay by him. This is also his affection.

This sweet sunshine boy also overlaps with you, its another battle of who brings the most sunshine in the room.

But sometimes Kalim lets you bring the sunshine, after all, your sunshine makes him the happiest he can ever be.

vil schoenheit

This man is over 6 feet tall, and wears heels, so imagine how hard was it for you to even maintain eye contact with THE Vil Schoenheit.

He didn't spare a glance at you first, heck, he didn't see you, you passed by him since your height was... lacking.

What made him go up to you is you just being so radiantly bright, with no extra help. Just you and your smile.

Like every other scenario, you went up to him, smiling and happy to even talk to him.

He finds you oddly endearing, your height is lacking but your personality makes up for it.

Vil didn't think about dating you, in fact, you asked him out. It was, a pleasant surprise for both, but he doesn't regret having you as a lover.

The first few months of dating, no one will know you two are even dating. It was just really professional, but when the door closes, it was different.

Vil won't show his love to his boyfriend to the world at all times, he flaunts them, sure. But he prefers his lover to be just as affectionate indoors.

The intimacy between you two is intense, one could hardly believe the ice cold queen of Pomefiore was so loving.

He adores cuddling you while looking at the mirror, it just shows how small you are against Vil and how sweet you look blushing and smiling up at him.

Vil definitely loves your sunshine personality, it gives him a certain boost to be better than the last.

idia shroud

Idia swore he never saw someone so... Moe? Was that the right word? The only person he saw who was remotely moe was his younger brother, Ortho.

But even then, it wasn't at your level. You were pure sunshine in his dark underground world.

Idia can't exactly tell how he met you, or how you end up being together, but it didn't matter, he had the best boyfriend yet!

You, on the other hand, knew how you met up. It was mostly thanks to Ortho, his kind soul always guided you, but one day... You felt lost, and since he said if you ever felt at a loss, go to Ignihyde.

There, you greet a few students, smiling and asking where Ortho may be. It was at that moment, Idia saw you— a ray of the golden sun.

Your visits frequented, Idia now got used to your bright side, to the point he started crushing on you. It felt good, and how you turned somewhat shy... It made him happy he had that effect on you.

Your sunshine that brought happiness not only to him, but Ortho, so everyday the gloomy Ignihyde turned somewhat happier and more lively than what it was before you.

Affection between you two isn't super skin to skin, he still finds it awkward. Don't get him wrong, he loves the affection, but it just feels weird and wants time to adjust.

The best affection he can give (willingly) is hand holding or cuddles (in private). But don't worry, he would kiss you, drown you in love if ever you ask him to.

Since he never had a partner, he was absolutely smitten when you cuddled up to him, smiling sweetly at his face and how you blush ever so slightly. It was just out of an anime, but this one was way better than what he had watched!

Won't admit it, but he loves seeing you in his hoodie, all bundled up, obviously drowning in the big jacket. He felt naked at first, without his hoodie, he felt so bare, but when he saw you all snuggled up... He could bare the no hoodie.

malleus draconia

Oh, sweetie, this fae is so tall. He was not surprised when he saw such a quaint child of man.

You grew endearing to him when you just didn't get scared of him, or his retainers, you approach him with a smile and open arms.

Malleus always assumed you would avoid him, but you never did, even after revealing his identity, you go and stay. Acting like it wasn't a big deal.

That moment, he fell utterly in love with you. He, of course, tried to play it cool. Malleus just tried to act normal, tried to initiate something, but it was a slow process.

In the end, you end up together, and he couldn't be happier. The affection you two share is sickening because it was too sweet.

Affections for you vary, but his personal favorite is picking you up, gives him the perfect opportunity to smooch or just cuddle up to you.

Malleus adores cuddling, but he was scared at first, he was scared that he could break you in his grasp.

But after a few reassurances, you got a clingy dragon fae wrapping his arms around your small body, blushing and smiling.

He admits, this feeling is so pleasant, he doesn't know when to let go. He just loves it, he got addicted.

[myheroacademiashorts]

i think i’m in love w his blog 🥺💞 (1) how about a scenario during UA where bakugou ends up coincidentally wearing a coat that looks almost identical to that of his fem!crush. she’s more nonchalant about it and like “hey! we’re matching!” with this adorable little grin on her face that makes him blush almost imperceptibly, which his friends tease him for mercilessly—

(2) sometimes they end up accidentally swapping coats and although he’d never admit it, seeing her in his slightly larger coat with a sheepish smile on her face is completely worth the embarrassment of his friends. he’d take this to the grave, but he may or may not leave his coat around on purpose from that point on just to see her in his clothes and pretend they were together. and tho she might not admit it, she likes the sweet smell that lingers bcuz she has a not-so-little crush on him too?

Hiya! Thanks for the request... Soooo I sorta needed to split it up. I have ideas for this fic. ;) ... And I also kind strayed from the original request. I’m sorry! /)-(\ Here is part one!

Title: One Size Too Big (Part 1)

Pairing: Bakugou x Reader

Rating: Fluff, sorta angst?

Words: 3,456

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

You had never been a fan of the cold, and this was further proven as you were forced to trudge from class to the dorms. You groaned to yourself, shivering despite the jacket and other layers you had on as a particularly strong gust of wind swept by. “Wow, it’s pretty chilly!” Uraraka sounded happy, and you shot her a glare as she stared up at the gloomy sky with a smile, mittened hands cupped together. “I know, and I hate it.” You grumbled, only earning another bell-like laugh from your bubbly friend.

“Oh, it’s not that bad!”

“I can barely feel my fingertips.”

She rolled her eyes at you, tugging one of your cold hands from the pocket of your coat and enveloping it in her own. Somehow, she was warm, and before you could ask her what her secret was, she was dragging you across the frost-covered school grounds, her giggling rising up with every complaint that escaped from your lips. “If we run, we’ll get back faster!” She said, and you weren’t able to argue back due to the heavy chattering of your teeth.

However, she had been right, and a minute later you were standing in front of your dorm building. Uraraka looked unfazed, her smile still glued to her face, while you looked like you had gone through hell; your hair was a mess of tangles, cheeks red from the cold and running, and a slight shiver clinging to your body as you forced your way inside. “Ta-da! That wasn’t so bad, right?” You settled with a playful glare in your friend’s direction, deciding to stay silent.

Uraraka had wanted to study in the library after class, and like the good friend you were, you followed. You hadn’t expected the weather to become worse, and didn’t realize it had done so until the two of you had stepped outside after hours of studying. The rest of your classmates were already inside, most of them in the living room and kitchen where the heater worked the strongest. Even stepping inside you could feel the difference in temperature from outside, and quickly stripped of your jacket before becoming too warm. You let your eyes stray to them, from the few goofing off in the kitchen while making hot chocolate to the group planted in the other room, a video game screaming at them from the television screen. Bakugou was on the couch, arms stretched over the top cushions and a bored expression on his handsome face as he stared at his friends blankly. It was then that you noticed a familiar article of clothing on the blonde boy.

“Hey, we match!”

At the sound of your voice, Bakugou’s attention was immediately on you, not understanding who you were speaking to at first. Then, his eyes drifted from your bright (E/C) gaze and goofy grin down to your extended arms, where an eerily familiar jacket hung from your frame. His brows furrowed for a moment, before letting his eyes dart from his own body back to yours, mouth agape in surprise. “We’re like twins! Or couple-matching!” You continued, laughing slightly at the comparison between you and the hotheaded boy as two identical sweatshirts were on both of you; sliced right down the center, the left black and the right bright orange with an x-eyed happy face decorating the back of it. You even turned around to show it off further, and Bakugou nearly choked on his own air as the realization sat in. Holy crap, they were the same. Yours, of course, was just a bit tighter since your frame was smaller than his own, but that didn’t stop Bakugou from continuously letting his eyes rake over you.

Your other classmates swarmed you before you could add on any further, pulling you towards the kitchen as they begged you to make them your infamous hot cocoa, and with a short laugh you let them drag you. You stripped yourself of the sweatshirt first, setting it aside on a lone chair before getting to work. Bakugou’s attention on you, however, stayed steady even without you noticing, eyes wide and mouth still hanging open slightly. Your teasing replied in his mind, and finally he forced his jaw shut, teeth clenched as he fought the blush rising up his cheeks to no avail. His right-hand man noticed his expression, toothy grin already placed before he could speak. “What’s got you frazzled, bro?” Kiri asked, and Bakugou immediately controlled himself, instead shooting a glare towards his friend. “Shut the fuck up, Shitty Hair. I’m not frazzled.” He muttered, and he let his eyes stray back to the kitchen when your familiar laugh rose up. Kiri caught the look.

“Oooh, is Bakugou frazzled?” Mina’s voice floated in as she plopped into the empty space on the other side of Bakugou, a knowing grin on her face as she wiggled her eyebrows. At this point, all of Bakugou’s friends had their attention on him, and he felt his face redden. Not entirely from embarrassment, although part of it was, but also from frustration. “I’M NOT ‘FRAZZLED’, ASSHOLES!” As if to prove his point, he sat upright to yank the cursed sweatshirt up and off of his body, cheeks bright as he avoided their gazes.

A few beats of silence passed, his friends trying to smother their teasing giggles to not anger him further. Instead, Bakugou abruptly stood up, fists clenched as he stared down at his giggling friends coldly. “I’m going to bed.” He muttered, and none of his friends mentioned that it was only 6 o’clock in the evening as he stalked off upstairs. You popped your head from the kitchen, eyes finding the troublesome group in the living room with an innocent smile. “Everything okay?” You asked in a soft voice, missing the mischievous looks that Kaminari and Sero exchanged to one another.

Oh, they were going to have fun with this.

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

The next day, you were found scurrying through the kitchen by none other than Kirishima himself.

He heard the clatter of pans first, then your frantic footsteps soon after. He peeked his head out from the bottom of the stairs, looking past the wall to see you scrambling for… well, something. He wasn’t quite sure what. “Hey, you alright?”

You jumped at the unexpected bright voice, but quickly relaxed after spotting the redhead as he emerged closed to you. “Kiri! Jeez, you almost scared the quirk out of me.” You pressed a hand to your heart as you laughed, an easy smile flitting to your lips. “I’m fine, but I forgot my sweater down here and can’t find it. Do you remember if you’ve seen it recently?”

Kiri’s brows rose, a strangely secretive smile on his lips as he recollected the actions of the night before. His friends had filled him in on their plans to shove you and Bakugou together, and he was more than happy to help. It was better than hearing Bakugou pretending to complain about you. “Actually, yeah!” He practically bounced to the couch, where Bakugou’s familiar sweatshirt still sat from the night before, long forgotten by the fiery blonde. He hoped you wouldn’t notice the faint scent of cologne and caramel lingering on the piece of clothing.

“Someone probably moved it, but here you go!” He thrusted it into your hands, and you sighed in relief as you grasped the sweatshirt. It was a bit cool from sitting out, but you didn’t pay attention to it as you instead shuffled it on, wiggling your arms into the sweater with a satisfied noise. The plush inside immediately calmed you, but there was something different about it… Were the sleeves always this long? And the hem? Maybe someone had accidentally stretched it out? And when did it start smelling like caramel?

You turned to grin at Kiri in thanks, picking up your backpack and swinging it over your shoulder. “You’re a lifesaver, Kiri. I was worried I’d have to freeze out there.”

“No problem! Want to head to class together?”

You and Kiri had always gotten along, both of your personalities being particularly bubbly and bright as you chatted during the short walk to class. However, he had broken off as soon as you found yourself standing in front of the 1-A door, mumbling something about an errand to run before turning and high-tailing it down the hallway.

You shoved the door open, grunting slightly at its heavy weight as you slid inside of the familiar classroom. The chatter continued as you sneaked in, Uraraka brightening when she noticed you. “Y/N!” Her melodic voice rang out, beckoning you forward as she stayed perched on top of her desk. “I still can’t forget about that hot chocolate from last night. It was so good!” Uraraka looked as if she were about to drool over the mere imagination of the rich beverage, moving her gaze to instead stare off at the wall mindlessly. You dropped your backpack onto the empty desk beside hers as she continued. “Man, if I could make hot chocolate like you, I’d make it all the time. I’d drink it every day! All year long!”

You laughed at her small obsession, and she seemed to want to continue monologuing before being cut off by the door slamming open. It banged against the wall, and in trudged the little gremlin everyone had become so accustomed to during their time at U.A. He kept his glare on the ground as he entered, muttering some curses under his breath for an unknown reason, before finally lifting his gaze upwards. “What the hell are you looking at-?”

And then Bakugou Katsuki’s eyes landed on you, and he froze.

Almost on instinct, you mimicked his action, eyes wide as you waited for his next move. In the short years you have attended the school with the blonde, he had never just… Stopped. And why was he staring at you so blankly?

Bakugou, however, had way too many things flitting through his mind to even think about doing anything else than just freezing mid-sentence. Holy fuck, is that my sweatshirt? I was wondering where the damned thing went. Why is she wearing it? God, it looks fucking hot on her. The last thought had a faint redness rising to his cheeks, more prominent on his ears as he tried to cover his expression with one hand and biting down on his lip to keep his jaw from dropping. Fuck. FuckfuckfuckfuckFUCK. The words were a mantra in his head, constantly repeating until he felt a soft hand wrap around the wrist hiding his embarrassed expression.

“Bakugou? Are you okay?” For a moment, he hated how soft and sweet your voice was. It just wanted to make the hard-headed boy melt to the floor. You were close enough that he could smell you; old and new books, perfume, even the faint scent of your shampoo. And you weren’t loosening your grip on him. Instead, you were tightening it, and tugging at his arm in a weak attempt for him to drop it from his flustered face. Meanwhile, the rest of the class was quiet, shocked at what they were seeing from the infamous, easily-riled pomeranian in front of them. You didn’t even seem to notice, instead leaving his arm to instead press your palm on the exposed skin of his forehead. He couldn’t see your expression, but based on how much he watched you without your knowledge, he could guess that you were frowning.

You were, by the way.

“Your face feels hot! Let’s go to Recovery Girl, maybe you have a fever?” Your voice held a slight edge of panic, not noticeable to most but making Uraraka quirk her brow in curiosity. Of course, she also knew about your not-so-little crush on the guy.

She waved her hand, breaking the awaiting tension that filled the air. “Go ahead and take him, Y/N! I’ll let Aizawa know what happened!” You didn’t look at your friend as you nodded and, grabbing Bakugou’s free arm - he was still covering his face with the other - you dutifully yanked him down the hallway and towards the healing Pro-Hero.

It wasn’t until the two of you had successfully left the immediate area that Aizawa, who had been secretly napping underneath his desk, finally crawled out of his sleeping back with a grumpy expression. He didn’t say anything -  just scanned the classroom knowingly - before huffing slightly and returning to the floor, waiting for the final bell to ring before beginning class. Luckily, he still had a handful of minutes left.

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

“You can drop your arm now, you know.” You grumbled, after walking in complete silence for a few steps too many. All you could think about was how he was acting like a girl from a damned shojo manga. He stayed quiet, keeping his large palm over his face dutifully, and you reached up to tug at the offending wrist until finally his hand landed at his side.

Then, you stared.

If you thought a quiet Bakugou was rare, nothing could prepare you for a blushing one; flawless skin erupting with a dark blush, ruby eyes lowered, and - was he biting his lip? Even his ears were scarlet. You stuttered for a moment, mind blanking on what you had been prepared to say, and instead stood there gaping like a fish out of water. His gaze shifted towards you, and your heart nearly stopped.

“What are you looking at? Dumbass…” Despite his harsh words, his tone was full of embarrassment, and he quickly shifted his attention elsewhere. You were still clutching to his arm and, as if it had become scalding hot, you dropped it. However, you didn’t move away. Instead, you chose to stand a little closer than you usually would to the hotheaded boy, peering up at him as if he were a quizzical math problem. It seemed to only redden his face more, if that were possible. “H-Hey, cut it out, weirdo!”

He reached an arm up to try pushing you back a few steps, but this only resulted in you stumbling further than anticipated. You could feel yourself lose your footing, and just as a gasp escaped your lips as you tensed your body to meet the hard linoleum floor, the same arm wrapped around your waist and hoisted you upright. The arm was warm, and the pads of his fingers had accidentally found their way to the bare skin peeking at your waist. The scent of caramel became stronger, overpowering all of your senses as you stared up at Bakugou with wide eyes and lips open, a flush rising to your cheeks. Your breathing was a bit labored, gaze searching the red, blank expression presented to you. “Mine.”

You blinked up at him. The hold he had on you tightened, and you felt your mouth go a bit dry. “H-huh?”

“That sweatshirt. It’s mine.”

Oh, the sweatshirt. For a moment there, you had thought… You gulped, pushing your thoughts to the farthest corner in your mind as the blonde released you from his grip. However, you could still feel the imprint of his warmth on your body, as if it had been tattooed onto your skin. Luckily you were able to stand up straight with your face stoic, although the bright red on your cheeks showed your true emotions all too clearly. It seemed you weren’t the only one who noticed, either, as Bakugou raised one brow upwards. Then smirked.

“What’re you getting so red for, huh?” He leaned in a bit closer than you would’ve thought he would, vermillion eyes blown wide and glinting mischievously at you. It was a bit cute to see him so cocky yet embarrassed, the blush just as prominent as before. “Got a fever or something?” As if to push it further, he placed his palm on your forehead. At that, you squeaked, causing that damn smirk to only widen further.

With every step he took forward, you took one back… Up until you were pressed against the wall, his hand still attached to your forehead as your cheeks darkened further. His free arm found its way next to you, palm flattened right beside your head, and the other soon followed until you were stuck in a kabedon position. And despite having no where else to go, he only seemed to inch closer.

His lips were hovering mere centimeters away from your own, ruby eyes staring into your own as you waited with bated breath on what was to happen next. There was a surge in the air, as if the two of you had just been zapped by Kaminari, but more tense. There wasn’t really a way to explain it. Was he playing with you? Was this just a joke? Was he going to kiss you like you thought? Like you hoped? The last thought made you suddenly suck in a deep breath as you squeezed your eyes shut.

And then the bell rang.

You nearly groaned at the sound, and opened your bright gaze just in time to see Bakugou move a step away from you; still close, but not as much as before. You stayed quiet, waiting for him to say something, anything. He wouldn’t just act like nothing happened… Right? Because something had happened, right?

Instead, he raked one hand through his spiked hair, the other burying itself in his pocket as he glanced away from you and back down the hallway, where the classroom was. The one you two had escaped from only a few minutes ago, although it felt like much longer. “We should get to class.” His rough voice came out more like a cough, and his eyes stayed away from you as he waited. You pursed your lips. So it looked like he was going to pretend nothing had happened. That just made your blood boil, and you didn’t even remember the reason as to why the two of you were out in the hallway to begin with as you shoved past him and made your way back to class. You didn’t get far, however, before stopping and twisting around, yanking the sweatshirt over your head roughly and throwing it in his direction. Then, you were back to storming down the hallway, hands balled into fists and frustration written all over your face.

Meanwhile, Bakugou stared at your retreating figure, eyes comically wide and a mixture of confusion and regular Bakugou-level anger on his features. “What the fuck was that about?” He mumbled to himself, the sweatshirt gripped in his hands as he frowned. He was just about to ask you on a date right after; not a date-date, of course, but out to that ramen place you wouldn’t stop yapping about with Round Face and Frog Girl. Did he do something wrong? Maybe he shouldn’t have shoved you against the wall so roughly… He saw it in an anime once, and the girl seemed to like it. Maybe he did it wrong? He hummed to himself, brows furrowing. He was a tad bit angry, but he was always angry, to some extent.

When he got back to the classroom, Aizawa had already passed out some worksheets and was dead asleep on the floor, per usual. Bakugou’s gaze first moved to you, and he was able to catch your gaze for only a second before you swiveled your attention elsewhere, your lips pressed into a firm, harsh line as you kept your face blank. From the corner of his eye, he could see Round Face glance at him in confusion. Yeah, me too!, he wanted to yell out, but was smart enough to grit his teeth and plop down in his chair. If he needed to, he’d find your friends later and ask them what the fuck was going on. You didn’t look like you’d be in the mood to talk to him for a while.

“Yo, Bakubro! What’s up with you?” Kirishima had an impish smile, but Bakugou didn’t question it. Instead, he shot his friend a harsh glare, cold enough to make even the bubbly redhead shrink back a bit, grin dropping down a level of its brightness.

“Nothing, Shitty Hair. I’m fucking fantastic.” Bakugou’s voice wasn’t its usual boom, instead barely a murmur, and Kiri almost strained to hear him. Well, that was an unexpected reaction. He glanced at Mina and the rest of the Bakubro group, who all met his gaze almost instantly. They all had a look of worry on their faces as they glanced at their mutual, usually hotheaded friend simultaneously, then towards your stiff figure. Something had definitely gone wrong in the last few minutes.

Crap. They needed to fix this, and fast.

... Is it that obvious that I read shoujo manga? And do i think Bakugou would read it and watch it too for romance advice? Fuck yes.

[kaiserin-astraia]

NieR's Project Gestalt

So after several nights losing sleep over this, I decided to write down my biggest issue with the NieR series: project gestalt. It’s pretty unanimously agreed by fans that project gestalt was probably the worst plan in the history of plans, executed in the laziest way possible. And yet, I couldn't help but obsess over how project gestalt could have been salvaged, even after the events of ending E of nier replicant.

This is the part where I say: I’m going to spoiling the hell out of NieR: Replicant and in some capacity NieR: Automata. If you don’t want to be spoiled, then get out now — that being said, if you’re sticking around anyway, I’ll be attempting to give summaries and explanations to concepts in the games that are relevant, so that we are all on the same page. also also I only know the high level details of the Drakengard series & won't be touching on it much.

So. What the hell was project gestalt?

Project gestalt was the terrible and last ditch effort to save humanity from a widespread pandemic called white chlorination syndrome, or WCS. WCS was caused by a literal inter dimensional fight between a red dragon and demon baby thing that resulted in the death of both and the deterioration of their corpses causing salt (also called Maso particles) to fall from the sky. If you got infected, the Cult of the Watchers gave you the choice of losing your free will and fighting for them as a soldier in the Legion, or turning into a pile of salt and dying. BrandonSP has a wonderful video talking about the Legion and the Nier universe leading up to the events of Nier: Replicant that I’ll link if you want to know more about this history (here), but all you need to know is: humanity is on the brink of extinction and the planet is no longer inhabitable in its current state.

Project Gestalt discovered that the way humans could escape extinction is by separating their souls from their bodies — the soul having no physical form is immortal & immune to maso, while the body without a soul can't become infected, because there’s no consciousness to force into a demon deal, I guess. You know, I realized while writing this that it’s not clear why separating soul from body actually worked to prevent WCS, but whatever it worked because Yoko Taro Said So.

However, separating body from soul was no easy task; upon doing so, most people’s souls would instantly go berserk, turning into mindless violent entities. The first success was the playable character of Nier: Replicant, who I’m going to call Nier. Upon this first success, the governments of the world convinced / coerced him into cooperating with the Project, and he became the cornerstone for all the “gestalts” aka the souls separated from their bodies.

Just to keep everyone up to pace, gestalts are the souls separated from their bodies, otherwise known as “shades” in Nier: Replicant.

So Project Gestalt’s planned chain of events was as followed:

1. All remaining humans would undergo gestalt-ing 2. The resulting replicants (aka, the soulless bodies) and androids would fight and defeat the legion & clean up the planet so that it was habitable again … which meant containing or eradicating the leftover maso covering the planet. 3. Once ready for rehabilitation, Grimoire Weiss and Grimoire Nior would merge into each other, causing all gestalt souls to snap into their respective replicants starting with Nier 4. Profit. Seems a simple plan, right? Well, not even a single step of that plan worked. By the end of Nier: Replicant ending E, Nier’s Gestalt, aka the shadow lord, has been killed by his own replicant; the replicants have gained sentience and I would argue their own souls, and many gestalts have relapsed into becoming violent, nonsensical entities. The insta-snap grimoires are dead, too, and-- Oh there’s the tiny issue that when a gestalt relapses, their corresponding replicant gets something called the “black scrawl”, a painful and terminal disease. Once a gestalt relapses or dies, their replicant can’t be recreated (well... mostly) and because the original gestalt, the shadow lord, is dead, all the other gestalts are doomed to eventually relapse or die as well, and thus humanity goes extinct. This is where I call bullshit. There’s little known about the time period between Nier: Replicant and Nier: Automata— especially the time of the gestalt and replicants decline. The game(s) leads you to believe that nothing can be done because the soul snapping Grimoires are dead and so is the original gestalt. However, there is tons of evidence in the game itself that implies it’s not so simple, and truly the true tragedy is that simply, everyone gave up — or more likely, Yoko Taro didn’t want us to think this hard, lol. Well TOO BAD, I can’t stop thinking about it so finally let’s actually talk about how to save humanity. First of all, I read on Reddit how it seems to be that the androids Devola and Popula are only two units, and with their demise in Nier: Replicant that project gestalt is doomed to failure. However, Nier: Automata clearly talks about how there were several Devola and Popula model pairs in different cities/continents. There’s no way that only our Devola and Popula in Nier: Replicant knew how to merge a gestalt with its replicant; such vital information would be stored in every android related to the project, and these models were quite literally created to oversee it. So. Idk why the hell the project was allowed to even get so disorganized, but regardless, after the the Shadow Lord and grimoires die, the remaining Devola and Popula units should have immediately made a plan B. There were several big issues with the state of the world before, so we’ll tackle them one by one for the biggest chance of success. 1. All relapsed gestalts need to be eradicated or contained. Their violence has lead replicants to attack them back and view them as monsters, leading to meaningless conflict. If the Devola and Popula units are programmed not to harm the gestalts because they are the 'true humans', they need to make new units ala A2 or 2B to take care of it. Because we know that android technology is already there, evidenced by the Memory Tree, and Devola and Popula, it follows this is definitely possible.

2. There should be three divisions of research made as follows:

2.1 Research into the effects of mismatched replicants merged with gestalts, like Kaine. Because the clock is ticking, there’s unfortunately no time to gawk at morals. Taking volunteers, even 1 success could be the difference between extinction or survival.

2.2 Creating and housing “iced” or “stasis” gestalts, while replicant bodies are “grown” for them. Because replicants have formed their own identities, they should try to create/raise replicants completely asleep/comatose. If not this, research into putting gestalts into their proper replicants at infant stage can be tried. (Note: replicants were infertile, hence why replicants had to be made, not born of sexual reproduction. Yoko Taro said that replicants couldn’t reproduce because they didn’t have their souls, however I think this was just a comment said to cover a plot hole.)

2.3 Research into whether replicants truly have souls or not, and whether something can be done to allow them to reproduce. Regarding the soul issue, it’s heavily implied that the Memory Tree, having absorbed the memories of so many replicants, began growing a soul of its own (that Nier killed, thinking it was a shade, oops). Now, how is that possible? It shouldn’t be, unless the replicants had made their own or unless a soul being created was possible. If we want to get fancy, a fourth division could be organized to study Emil and the weapons project that experimented on him, with an emphasis on how to either reverse the effects or if any information can be gleaned from them regarding the soul.

2.4 Black scrawl 2 electric boogaloo: it’s said in the project gestalt files that they couldn’t find a cure or reason for this phenomenon, but if we’re trying to cover our bases, another research division should be created to investigate and attempt to cure it. It seems to be a magical malady, so I wonder if Emil would be able to help... or even Kaine.

3. (Moving along...) More androids should be created to build cities / homes / areas of civilization for the newly reformed humans to re-habitat. This is said to be a goal of the androids in Nier: Automata, and they were doing a piss poor job — maybe if they got started earlier they’d have a better shot. The replicants were/are already living in medieval levels of squalor and poverty, which is ridiculous considering the android's technology is so advanced.

4. No more lies: though in my plan, replicants shouldn’t have to be created except to be possessed, but if they are created and allowed to mature into a sentient age, replicants should be educated and informed about the truth of their existence — this is for many reasons. First, that way replicants will be less likely to fear and attack shades they see; two, worst comes to worst, they may be more willing to share their bodies with their gestalts and who knows? Maybe they’d merge naturally. Three, no replicant would be allowed to get strong enough to defeat an android (or two -- seriously, what were the twins thinking letting Nier get so powerful?).

Hopefully this makes it very obvious that the death of humanity was entirely the fault of Project Gestalt itself and the androids meant to oversee it -- at least the androids have the excuse of being programmed to act a certain way, but still. It's so frustrating that we just have to accept that humanity was doomed even though, by its own lore, there was a lot that could have been done to attempt to save humans. Like, I love you, Yoko Taro, but gees.

anyway if you've read all this I'm so sorry but also I'm REALLY interested to hear what y'all think about the Nier universe and it's facets. idek why I've got such deep brainworms but here we are.

P.S. As of writing this, I've played some Nier: Reincarnation and it just further implies that the way they created and treated replicants was both A) awful, holy shit, it's so bad, and B) ill-advised on every level. I don't want to spoil but good lord. Honestly, I think at this point YT just wants to express/nail home that humanity was doomed to fail because of its own cruelty and flaws. ok ill shut up now bye love u

[sceptilemasterr]

Defenders of the Flame (TE Rewrite) Act 3, Scene 1 - Identity Crisis

Title: Defenders of the Flame (A CIU Screenplay)

Main Pairings: Shreya x F!MC, Beckett x F!Atlas

Other Pairings: N/A

Genre: Full Rewrite (The Elementalists, Book 1)

Rating: PG-13 for violence, blood, swearing, alcohol, and sexuality

Summary: Atlas helps Beckett, Fiora, and Shreya practice the first step of their Combat Forms.

Previous Scene: Surprises All Around

Masterlist: Link

EXT. PCSA MAIN QUAD - LAKE - MORNING

It is a frigid winter morning on Penderghast’s campus. The quad is completely deserted, save for a single figure: Atlas stands on the shore of the lake, running through some warm-up exercises on her own. Despite the fact that she is dressed only in thin athletic pants and a t-shirt, she does not appear to be bothered by the cold. Several times, she glances back in the direction of the main campus as though waiting for someone.

ATLAS (muttering): “Beauty rest” my ass. If I have to drag you out of bed myself, I will--

She stops talking abruptly when she hears the sound of footsteps in the snow. Looking back toward Fletchly Hall, she spots Fiora, Shreya, and Beckett all approaching the lake, Shreya apparently regaling the other two with a story of some kind. All of them are dressed for the weather, unlike Atlas. Atlas waves stiffly in their direction as they get closer.

ATLAS: There you are. Let’s start.

BECKETT: Yes, excellent. Straight to business.

The three of them assemble side-by-side, with Atlas standing between them and the lake. She claps her hands together and addresses the others.

ATLAS: Right. So, Stoicheal Gather.

FIORA (muttering): Well, hi to you too, Atlas...

Atlas either does not hear her sister or chooses to ignore her as she plants her feet comfortably apart, crosses her arms in front of her chest, and starts to concentrate. Within a few seconds, glowing blue wisps of Water Stoichi begin forming around Atlas, swirling faster and faster in a vortex with herself as the central point. Shreya and Fiora look around in surprise while Beckett calmly observes. The vortex of energy grows tighter around Atlas, until it finally flows all at once into her body with a thunderclap. Fiora lets out a soft shriek at the noise.

SHREYA: Wow. Nicely done!

BECKETT: An impressive display!

Atlas opens her eyes and lets her arms fall to her sides. Her skin glows a faint blue.

ATLAS: That was a Stoicheal Gather. It’s not gonna be easy; took me a year to learn it. And another year to master actual Combat Form.

Fiora frowns.

FIORA (panicking): But we’ve only got a few months!

ATLAS: And you’ve got a teacher. I was completely solo. Don’t worry about it.

She nonchalantly flicks a hand back toward the lake, unleashing a torrent of water pouring from her palm into the lake’s surface.

ATLAS: Anyway. Gather isn’t too different from what you’ve done before: sensing your innate stoicheal energy and all that. The difference is maintaining the kind of focus needed to draw up this much energy at once.

SHREYA: I’ve tried this on my own. I always lose it at the vortex. How did you get it to rush into yourself like that?

ATLAS: They call it the “foundation point.” And it’s honestly all mental.

She taps a finger to her head.

ATLAS: You need to keep your mind fixated on a single, strong concept that’s connected with who you are as a person. The way you think of yourself. Something that won’t waver or fade--that’s key! The foundation point is what’ll keep you from going feral once we get into actual Combat Forms.

FIORA: “A single, strong concept...” like what?

ATLAS: It’s unique to each of us. Mine, for example, is justice. My whole life I’ve been fighting against Raife and his damn cultists. Instead of using my hatred for Raife--which will just falter after he’s defeated--I focus on my sense of justice so I can maintain it even once he’s dealt with. That’s the most important part: it has to be a constant!

BECKETT: Ah! So, myself, for instance... I could use my identity as a Harrington and the sense of duty that comes with it. That is something that will be with me all of my life.

Atlas smirks.

ATLAS: Sure, that’ll work. As long as you think that’s strong enough.

SHREYA: Beckett, that gives me an idea! But instead of my path as a Mistry, I’d like to focus on my own path. My desire to step out from my family’s shadow and find my own future.

ATLAS: Kinda vague if you ask me, but sure. Fiora?

FIORA: Who, me? I... uh... I’ll think of something.

Atlas frowns but chooses not to comment.

ATLAS: Alright, everybody might want to spread apart a little. You saw how big my vortex started out--that’s how much space you’ll need.

Beckett, Shreya, and Fiora all exchange a glance before spreading out to allow enough space between them.

ATLAS: Right! Now, everyone try it! Focus on your foundation point and start drawing on your innate stoicheal energy!

The other three adopt similar poses to the one Atlas had done at the start of her demonstration, closing their eyes and focusing. For the first few seconds, nothing happens. Then, shining orange wisps of fire stoichi begin circling around Shreya.

ATLAS: There it is! Great, Shreya!

Fiora opens her eyes and looks over at Shreya. A few more wisps of energy steadily add themselves to her vortex as they grow faster and faster. Silver stoicheal energy starts appearing around Beckett, as well, though these are slower and fainter than the ones around Shreya.

ATLAS: Good, Beckett. Keep going!

Beckett visibly falters and his wisps of energy start to fade. He increases his concentration, bringing them back. Fiora closes her eyes and tries again, concentrating hard... but still nothing happens.

FIORA (frustrated): Ugh... come... ON!

The camera focuses on Fiora’s face, and we hear her voice, echoing in internal monologue:

FIORA (inner thoughts): Shreya... friends... Pend Pals... no, my old friends... Hartfeld... Penderghast... Shreya... Atlas, my sister... Shreya... school... justice? No, that’s Atlas’s...

ATLAS: Nice, Shreya! Now!

Shreya’s vortex is swirling furiously, fire stoichi surrounding her and almost touching her skin. Shreya opens her eyes in surprise at Atlas’s shout.

SHREYA: Wha--!

But that is enough to break her concentration. The Fire Stoichi around her dissipates, swirling off into the air and casting a brief warmth across the otherwise chilly campus.

SHREYA (frustrated): Zut alors! I was so close!

ATLAS: Not bad for your first real try. You’ve just gotta open your innate stoichi, allow it inside. It’s the opposite of what you’ve learned in class. You’re not releasing your innate stoichi, you’re letting it flow back in.

SHREYA: Ah, right. That makes sense.

Beckett’s own vortex is swirling still, but it is patchy, incomplete... large gaps in the side reveal he has not gathered quite enough Metal Stoichi yet. After another moment, the vortex starts to slow before dissipating into the air much like Shreya’s had.

BECKETT: It would seem I am struggling with this task.

ATLAS (nods): Your foundation point. Do you have anything else?

BECKETT: What, a replacement for my identity as a Harrington? I cannot possibly--

Atlas shakes her head.

ATLAS: Not a replacement. Alongside. A foundation point can be made up of more than one concept.

BECKETT: A second foundation point? Hmm...

ATLAS: Think about it. Shreya, why don’t you try again. You almost had it.

SHREYA: Okay, Atlas.

As Shreya focuses once more, Atlas walks over to Fiora.

FIORA: Sorry, Atlas... I can’t do it!

ATLAS: You barely summoned anything. I think I spotted one or two wisps, but...

FIORA (sighs): I knew it. I’m never gonna--

ATLAS: Alright, enough of that crap. Listen, Fiora. You’ve got the raw power: I think the whole birthday cake incident was enough proof of that. So that’s not the problem.

FIORA: Then what--?

ATLAS: The foundation point. What’s yours?

FIORA: I... uh... well, there’s a lot of things, but I’m not--

ATLAS: Then there’s your problem. You should have one, single answer for me when I ask you.

FIORA: I... I don’t.

ATLAS: Then find one! Fiora, tell me this: who are you?

FIORA: ...Huh? I’m, uh, your sister?

ATLAS: No, no. Who... are... you?

FIORA (thinking): Um... a Light-Att?

Atlas rubs her forehead in exasperation.

ATLAS: I’m really bad at this. It’s just... I think you’ll need some time to think on this. Maybe Shreya or Zeph could help. I’m probably the wrong person for this part. Sorry.

FIORA: No! It’s not you! I’m just... well...

There is a sound like a thunderclap, and Atlas and Fiora turn sharply in its direction to see Shreya, glowing with orange light and smiling broadly at them.

SHREYA: Atlas! Atlas! I did it! Look!

Atlas nods and walks over to Shreya.

ATLAS: Nicely done. Now, the next step is to--

Shreya’s skin starts glowing brighter. She looks down at herself nervously as Atlas begins summoning a swirl of water stoichi in her hand.

SHREYA: Uh... Atlas? What do I--

ATLAS: Let off the excess! Straight into the lake, launch the biggest blast of flame you can!

SHREYA: I--!

Shreya thrusts her arms out toward the lake, sending twin bursts of flame into the water. Steam billows up around them all... but Shreya is still glowing.

ATLAS: Bigger!

SHREYA: What?!

Flames start erupting around Shreya’s feet, lighting the grass around them on fire despite the snow. The flames grow bigger and bigger, before--

ATLAS: Deluge.

The energy in Atlas’s palm unleashes a torrential wave of water that washes over Shreya--and the fire--before flowing into the lake. Though Shreya stands sopping wet, there is no longer any trace of the fire at her feet, and her skin is back to normal.

SHREYA (shrieking): Atlas! Do you have any idea how much I paid for these clothes?!

ATLAS: Then why’d you wear them to a training session? Anyway, you’re not on fire anymore. You’re welcome.

BECKETT: I believe I understand. Once we’ve performed a Stoicheal Gather, that energy must go somewhere, correct?

ATLAS: Exactly. Energy can’t be created or destroyed. Once you’ve gathered that much stoichi, you’ve got to use it or else... it’ll “use” you.

She gestures at Shreya’s feet, where the flames have left a neat circle of melted snow behind.

ATLAS: Since we’re not ready for Combat Forms yet, that means letting it out in a huge blast of energy. That’s why we’re practicing by the lake. Build it up, and launch it--metal, fire, doesn’t matter--straight into the water.

SHREYA: Well! You could have told us that before we began!

ATLAS (sheepishly): ...I forgot.

BECKETT: Hmph. Perhaps, if your memory was as impeccable as mine is, you wouldn’t have--

ATLAS: Shut up and keep practicing, Harrington.

BECKETT (irritated): Very well, Luxen!

FIORA (innocently): ...What did I do?

BECKETT: Not you. I meant--oh, right. Same surname. I'd forgotten.

ATLAS (sarcastically): What was that about “impeccable memory?”

BECKETT: I... erm...

A short montage ensues of several more practice attempts, as Fiora struggles to think of something to use as her foundation point. Shreya is the first to perfect her Stoicheal Gather, but she struggles with releasing her energy; Atlas has to extinguish her flames on more than one occasion. Beckett eventually performs a Gather, which is followed by a massive cube of metal which he creates and launches into the lake, letting out a splash that drenches himself, Shreya, Atlas, and Fiora. Fiora, for her part, continues struggling, still unable to maintain her focus.

ATLAS (shouting): Alright! Enough!

She claps her hands together to get everyone’s attention. In the distance, a few students can be seen walking across the quad, now that it is a little later in the morning. Fiora stares down at her feet dejectedly, and Shreya walks over to her, wrapping a comforting arm around her shoulders.

ATLAS: Today was a great start. I don’t know how often we’ll be able to do this--you’ve got classes and all--but we’ll find time. Class dismissed, or something.

FIORA: Thanks, Atlas.

Shreya and Fiora start walking back, away from the lake, while Beckett starts talking with Atlas. Fiora sighs in disappointment.

FIORA: Shreya, you looked so cool with your Stoicheal Gather! I’m a Light-Att and everything, but I couldn’t even manage this.

SHREYA: Fiora. It’s okay! It isn’t exactly a competition... besides, we still have months before they expect us to have Combat Form ready. Plenty of time to practice!

FIORA: I know, but still... Shreya, how did you do it? What’s the secret?

SHREYA: It’s like Atlas said: you need a strong foundation point.

FIORA (sadly): That’s exactly what I’m stuck on.

SHREYA: Here’s an easy one: why are you here at Penderghast?

FIORA: Uh... because I fell in a lake and ended up here?

SHREYA: Right. Bad example. What about the school you used to go to? The Tuneless one, I mean?

FIORA: Not really sure there, either. I was just there because it’s what people do after high school, I guess. I never really thought about it--

SHREYA: Then that’s your assignment for now: finding out what motivates you! And there’s no better person to help with that than myself, naturally!

As they continue walking, Shreya thinks for a moment, pondering how best to help Fiora with her problem. Then she catches sight of a glimmering poster affixed to the outside of the Fletchly Hall entrance.

SHREYA (excitedly): Oh! Fiora, look!

FIORA: What? Is it about Stoicheal Gather?

SHREYA: No, no, nothing like that. I’d forgotten! The Amorelia Day Gala is coming up soon! Oh, this is so exciting--my sister’s told me all about them, of course, but this will be my first chance to go to one myself!

She points to the poster, and Fiora follows her gaze. The poster is decorated with colorful silhouettes of dancing couples, all moving around the center. In the middle of the poster, the words “PCSA AMORELIA DAY GALA 2018 - MARCH 17, 7:00 PM” have been written in glimmering golden letters. Shreya beams at Fiora, who simply stares in puzzlement.

FIORA: Okay... but what is it?

SHREYA: Only the biggest social event of the school year! It’s a dance that’s held each year, celebrating the coming of spring. But mostly it’s an excuse for everyone to relax, enjoy themselves, and maybe... spend some quality time with a special someone!

She says the last few words while looking pointedly at Fiora.

FIORA: Oh. Wow. I, uh, didn’t even know about this!

SHREYA: That’s alright! It is rather exciting. And so much fun to prepare for--

FIORA: One thing at a time, Shreya... I’m too worried about this Combat Form thing to even think about a dance right now. I’ll worry about it later.

Frustrated, Fiora pushes open the doors to Fletchly Hall and steps through. Shreya frowns at the poster and sighs before following her inside.

_______________________

Notes: Here begins Act 3, and it seems like Fiora's got a ways to go to figure out this Combat Form business. Hmm...

_______________________

Next: Back in Session

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[chronictonsillitis]

no pain so exquisite as to be bound (to you)

“Gon nau,” the officiant says, slipping her hand into the man’s. From now—

Their skin is hot against each other's, palms sweaty as their fingers lace together.

“Tu ste glong raun kom won.” Two are joined as one. 

Clarke swallows hard, and looks up. Two pairs of eyes widen simultaneously, two sets of hackles instantly rising.

**** Forced to stand alone by the departure of her sort-of almost co-leader, Clarke does her damndest to hold the Dropship camp together. The thanks she gets when the Ark comes down? Her camp shuttered and her authority stripped. For her people, she agrees to marry a stranger, dashing any hope of finding her soulmate. Clarke is told nothing of her Grounder betrothed; yet the man waiting at the altar she knows all too well. In exchange for keeping his identity secret, an agreement is made, and the clock starts counting down: to the arrival of her soulmark, and the dissolution of this sham marriage.

Written for The t100 Fic for BLM Initiative Donation Celebration with beautiful artwork by Bri ( @underbellamy​)! The Initiative is still accepting prompts and going strong, hitting $4000 in donations as of this week!

Chapter 1/?

(Ao3) or

She probably should’ve expected something like this.

After all, if her mom had been willing to send her down to Earth with the rest of them for the sake of the Ark, why would she balk at a simple marriage?

And of course Clarke goes along with it, because if not her, then who? Wells is dead, Bellamy is long gone; there’s no one else of the right age visible enough, no one else important enough to the Council to be a worthy prize for the Grounders.

Clarke scoffs internally. A worthy hostage is more like it.

The irony of it is not lost on her. She was forced into leadership by the actions of the Council, sending her to the ground, and forced to stand alone in charge of the delinquents by the unceremonious departure of her sort-of, almost co-leader. It was her who faced down the Trikru leader, her who held the Dropship camp together as they were besieged, and her who ultimately negotiated for peace.

And what was the thanks she got when the Ark came down? Her camp shuttered, her authority stripped, her role limited to a purely honorary seat on the Council with no real power, an empty concession as a reward for all her hard work. She’s spent the last year more or less stagnant, being spoken over in meetings and condescended to by people who kept her around purely because the Trikru representatives refuse to speak to anyone else. She wonders how they’ll deal with that particular problem now that they’ve shipped her off to Trishanakru.

Clarke expected to feel relief when she wasn’t in charge anymore, but instead she’s felt useless, like a child who’s long outgrown the kid’s table. Useless and flat.

Still, she didn’t expect her return to usefulness to be as a bargaining chip.

“You understand what you’re asking me to give up?” Clarke asks her mother behind closed doors after the offer of marriage is first put forth. “The home I’ve made, the relationships I’ve built?”

Abby wrings her hands, eyes full of guilt. “It’s not forever, you’ll be able to come back. To visit, at least.”

Clarke laughs harshly. “It is forever, that’s the point!” She paces back and forth, her heart clenching almost painfully. “It’s not a job, Mom, it’s a marriage. I’ll be one of them, bound to one of them, for life. I’ll never get a chance—” She breaks off, stopping facing the wall. “I’ll never have the opportunity to have what you and dad had. I’ll never get to have a true partner.”

She’s still too young to have her mark, just a hair past nineteen. They say it happens when you turn twenty, but that’s just an estimate. She’s likely got nine months or so until it starts to form, the lines beginning to weave their way across the skin below her collarbones in bits and pieces, slowly darkening until it’s all there, her own unique pattern branded black into her flesh.

An outward marker of genetic compatibility, her mom had called it during Clarke’s medical training, but Clarke prefers the traditional term: soulmark.

Matches on the Ark were not universal, but they were common enough. Her parents had been matched, and it had been easy for Clarke even as a child to see the difference between their relationship and that of the non-matched couples. There was a reason nobody took relationships seriously until they both were marked.

“I know that, honey,” Abby says, her voice soft. Clarke hates it, hates when she combines politics with acting like her mom. Abby puts her hand on Clarke’s arm, her touch innately comforting in a way that is wholly unfair given the situation. “But with Wells gone…”

Her words trail off, but the implication is clear. Abby thinks Clarke won’t match anyways. She thinks her daughter’s intended match is lying dead in a grave beside the dropship, buried beneath six feet of dirt, so what is she really being asked to give up? Only a dream, only a fairytale. Nothing of substance.

Clarke isn’t so sure.

She loved Wells, she still does, but it was never— like that, for them. She knows growing up everyone expected them to match, the prince and princess of the Ark, and maybe when she was little she believed it. But when he died it was her best friend that she grieved, not her soulmate.

And maybe she’s being foolish and romantic, but she still has hope. She thinks her match is out there somewhere, still breathing. But if she accepts this deal, this marriage, that hope is dead.

Clarke remembers the girls at the dropship camp tittering beside the fire, speculating about their marks and their matches. She remembers the way Octavia stared intently at Lincoln’s soulmark, memorizing it, confident in three years she’d be marked with its twin. She remembers tracing a pattern across Finn’s skin in the bunker, imagining he could be hers.

None of the delinquents were old enough to have a mark, save Bellamy of course. Raven’s started blooming a few weeks in, but Bellamy’s soulmark was fully fledged well before they came down, winding black and proud across his chest as he strutted about the camp shirtless. From his prolific activities with the camp girls, Clarke assumes he didn’t have a match that he knew of. On the Ark, at least, it was unheard of to have a matching soulmark and not act on it. To be given a gift like that and to turn it away— no one is that stupid.

Then again, it’s Bellamy, so who knows.

He was stupid enough to leave his sister, stupid enough to leave Clarke to fend for herself as leader of a bunch of kids barely younger than herself, with nothing but a half-hearted shooting lesson and a suggestion to keep Miller close. And yeah, she’d survived, but it would have been a hell of a lot easier with a partner.

“If we had any other options, Clarke,” Abby begs. “I wouldn’t ask. But we need this alliance. Without Trishanakru, Azgeda will wipe us out before the end of the summer.”

Clarke stiffens, her nose pointing upwards, because she knows this. Of course she knows this. She’s been in every goddamn Council meeting, even if nobody had bothered to listen to what she had to say. Maybe if they had, they wouldn’t be in this position.

But they didn’t, and now they don’t. It’s this or nothing.

So fine. If this is all she can do for her people, she’ll do it. She’ll give up her family, give up her friends, give up her chance to be with her soulmate even before her mark begins to darken on her skin.

It’s better that way, her Trishanakru attendants say as they bathe her in milk and drape her in silk, prettying her up like a lamb for slaughter. Better not to know, so she can go into the marriage free of tethers, unbound by her own expectations. Clean of skin and pure of heart, they say.

“And what of my husband-to-be?” Clarke asks dryly. “Is he still unmarked?”

The question is only half sarcasm, the other half genuine curiosity. She knows nothing of the man she is to marry except his status amongst the clan: second to the Chief, a warrior. In negotiations they never mentioned his name, temperament, age, nothing. He could be an old man for all Clarke knows; even a child, if Trishanakru shares the same customs as Trikru.

The woman braiding her hair purses her lips, not meeting Clarke’s eyes. “No,” she admits. “But he will show you the same respect you show him. He has not found his match, and after today, he will have no match but you.”

How romantic, Clarke thinks, resisting the urge to roll her eyes.

She has no pretensions about this marriage. She does not expect love, nor even happiness. All she expects is the treaty with Skaikru to be honored. If that happens, it will be enough.

She stands still as they drape her with beads and gems, lace strings of pearls into her hair. Absentmindedly, she wonders where exactly all the jewelry came from. Maybe an old museum, or a jewelry store.

They pat around her eyes with oil, pressing gold leaf to it so it peels off on her skin. Her dress is long and heavy, layers of fabrics darned with intricate embroidery. She almost laughs, thinking of what everyone back in Arkadia would say. She imagines the Princess jokes would come on pretty strong.

For all the bangles they slide up her arms, all the jewels the hang from her ears, her ankles, her hips, her hair, they put no necklaces on her. It’s confusing, at least until it isn’t.

Clarke balks at the monstrosity they pull out, because it’s a collar.

There’s no better word for it really. Not a collar like a dog would wear, not a thin strip of leather, no: this is a bridle, a harness, an anchor. It’s gold and bejeweled and if Clarke wasn’t the one wearing it she’d call it beautiful, but she is.

It’s thick and heavy, settling on her shoulders like a weight, making them sag. It covers her chest from the hollow of her throat to the middle of her sternum, covers her shoulders from clavicle to acromion.

It’s choking her.

It clasps behind her back with some complicated mechanism she cannot see, and Clarke thinks she spots one of the attendants pocket a key. Her throat goes dry, hands fighting the urge to scrabble at her throat.

“What is this?” Her voice is shaky, her anxiety leaching into her tone.

Her attendants are polite enough to ignore it, reaching out to adjust her hair so it falls over the hammered metal, gold on gold. “It is traditional in weddings like this. To cover your mark.” The woman hums, her finger tracing over the jewels, a wistful look on her face. “They are normally leather. You must be very important to the clan.”

Oh joy, Clarke thinks.

“I don’t have a mark yet,” she grits. “Why do I have to wear it?”

“But you will. It’s tradition, but besides, it’ll be easier for you to start now. So there’s no temptation.”

Clarke isn’t sure what kind of fucked up weird conservatism she’s marrying into, but she’s not thrilled. “When can I take it off?” Her attendants go quiet, their eyes not meeting hers. “Hello?”

The youngest one, a kind looking girl who’d smiled when Clarke had asked her name, gives her an apologetic look. “You can’t. The key will go to your husband, as a sign of your trust.” She shrugs. “You will get used to it.”

Clarke highly doubts that, but she also doubts that these women have any say in whether she stays permanently collared.

It’s moments like these she thinks she probably should have insisted on meeting her husband before the day of the wedding, or insisted on having some of her own people here with her to advocate on her behalf. Besides the inherent powerlessness of this marriage, she didn’t expect to actually be locked into anything.

Not physically at least.

The last piece of her outfit that they add is a gold beaded vail, hanging over her face and eyes like a curtain. She joked about being lamb for slaughter, but seriously. The collar, the blinders: she feels like livestock.

Clarke frowns. She will put up with the indignity for her people, of course she will, but fuck if she can’t show her displeasure.

The first part of the wedding is small, intimate, and Clarke is grateful. The nice attendant tells her it will last a half hour, in which her husband-to-be and her will be bound temporarily. After that, they will have time to meet privately.

By the downcast eyes of the attendant, Clarke thinks that this is a polite way of saying he will have time to sample the goods before committing to her permanently. Her skin crawls at the thought. She knew there was likely to be some sort of required consummation, but she’s sort of blocked it out. She hasn’t had sex since Finn, hasn’t had any sort of romantic or sexual interactions in the interim. She hasn’t wanted to.

She’s both embarrassed by her inexperience and furious at herself for being anything other than angry.

They lead her into the ceremonial hall, an open room with a vaulted ceiling. Light shines in through broken stained glass windows, and she thinks maybe, before the bombs, this used to be a church. Fitting, she supposes.

She’s directed to a cushion at the end of the room, in front of some sort of altar. She sweeps the silks away from her ankles and kneels, sitting back on her bare feet.

Clarke would think someone would tell her husband-to-be she’s already there, or that this was to be a formal event, but nevertheless she can hear him arguing with someone as he approaches the door. Her attendants stand at her back, waiting calmly.

“—ridiculous for them to just expect I would have no problem with it,” a man says, his rasp deep in a familiar way that she cannot seem to place. “I have duties to the clan, to you, and your ambassadors just expect me to drop everything and marry a stranger, just because she’s related to some backwoods Seya. Is she supposed to come with me into battle?”

Another man speaks softly in response, his voice low enough it doesn’t quite reach Clarke’s ears.

“Why should it matter to me whether she’s marked or not? If she’s not a warrior I have no use for her. What am I supposed to do with some— some spoiled child bride?”

His last hiss echoes through the room as he enters, striking her like a slap to the face.

Clarke bristles, her teeth clenching, and lifts her shoulders. She doesn’t want to be in this marriage either, thank you very much, especially not to a man who’s clearly too arrogant to see past his own nose.

She’s not a warrior, fine, but she fights in different ways. She’s a politician, and a healer, and a strategist. Clarke is useful, and not just as some diplomatic trophy.

The reply is too quiet for her to hear, but she’s sure it wouldn’t calm her down.

Her intended apologizes to her attendants, and Clarke hears them shuffle to the side, letting him past. She’s not sure why he bothers, clearly he has no care for propriety. He drops unceremoniously to his knees beside her without a glance in her direction, the man to whom he was speaking coming around to stand in front of them. The officiant, she guesses.

Clarke keeps her gaze straight ahead, glaring at the paneled wall in front of her.

The ceremony is conducted wholly in Trig, the words unfamiliar and spoken so quickly Clarke misses most of the actual content. She’s okay at Trig, but with her unofficial house arrest leaving only Lincoln to practice with, she’s still far from fluent, and none of this is anything she would have even thought to learn.

At some point she’s directed to raise her right hand, and the man beside her his left. The officiant continues, “—ogeda. Nomfa kom Trishanakru, Seken kom Seya, yu na teik dis?”

The bone of her wrist brushes against his skin. The contact is disconcerting, and her eyes flicker involuntarily to the man’s hand.

His skin is tan, several shades darker than her own, his hand broad. His nails are short but clean, and she wonders if he too had to take a milk bath before this.

“Sha,” he says, his voice a low rumble, and the officiant hands him one end of a red ribbon, wrapping it once around his wrist. Clarke shivers.

Probably not.

Her eyes come back up as she realizes the officiant is speaking directly to her now, his words slow and careful. He gives her a serious look, something almost fatherly, his eyebrows pulling together. “Nomfri kom Skaikru,” he asks. Daughter of Skaikru. “Yu na teik dis?” Will you allow this?

In the corner of her eye, she sees the man at her side stiffen, his spine snapping straight, but she doesn’t have time to puzzle through that. She meets the officiant’s eyes with a resolute stare, and nods. “Yes.”

His lips curl into a half grin, as though he is proud of her answer, and he loops the ribbon around her wrist, placing the end softly into her hand. Clarke closes her fist around it.

The officiant bids them to stand, and they do, rising as one to their feet, wrists bound between them. The officiant takes both their unbound hands and gestures for them to face one another.

Clarke closes her eyes and opens them again, releasing a steadying breath through her nose. She forces her feet to turn, keeping her gaze pointed downward. She will not let this man see doubt in her eyes, won’t let him catch a hint of fear.

“Gon nau,” the officiant says, slipping her hand into the man’s.

From now—

Their skin is hot against each other's, palms sweaty as their fingers lace together.

“Tu ste glong raun kom won.”

Two are joined as one.

Clarke swallows hard, and looks up. Two pairs of eyes widen simultaneously, two sets of hackles instantly rising.

Because even though her husband is a stranger, she knows his eyes: deep brown staring out now from unfamiliar charcoal black; the same way she knows the curl of his hair, the line of his shoulders, the pattern that lies beneath the paint on his chest.

She knows these things the same way he knows the slope of her nose, the curve of her breasts, the mark above her lip, the weight of her body clinging to his.

Clarke’s heart races.

Bellamy.

[theficplug]

l Next Lifetime l Erik Killmonger l

previous chapters: l part 1 l

erik kilmonger x reader

warnings: none, but the usual 18+ for the eventual smut and a possible tw for grief but i promise it gets better and its a romcomsynopsis: reader grieves Erik until she doesn’t (i’m trying not give too much away). I really want to make it a series that i actually keep up with (sorry Girls Trip readers) because I have up to part 4 written. alright thats all i hope yall vibe with it. 

l part 2 l

“Yeah I do, I think that like if we want. We can come back as someone else or like maybe when we love someone really strongly and we have like soul ties we can come back to them in another life. But that’s just me. We could just be hitting the cha cha slide next to Father J.C.” Iridia explains and Tika shakes her head while laughing at her. 

“Personally, I don’t think so. I believe once our life Earthside is done we return to the cosmos to be a part of the stars that light up the night sky on our loved ones darkest nights. But why are we talking about this on your birthday? We are very much alive with much to celebrate miss thang. I’m ready to go!” Tika says to you as she grabs the car keys. 

“So I met someone while I was at the store and he invited all of us to a party at the Roller Rink but I gotta let you know it’s like crazy how eerily similar he looks to Erik.” you say to them and they both give each other a look before looking back at you.

“OH! Don’t give me that look! I know y’all probably think I’m losing it, but you know what they say everybody got a doppelganger somewhere. Anyways, I know it’s not exactly on our itinerary but I wanna go if y’all are down?” you ask them and they give a worried look before nodding and agreeing. 

“Hell yeah we’re in. I haven’t been to a skating rink since like 10th, maybe 11th grade? This should be fun to see if I got it or if I’m gonna buss my ass.” Tika says laughing.

The rest of the day was pretty easy breezy but you could not get over seeing him. Who’s possibly not him? In front of you. Happy and laughing and present. 

You tried to shake off the thoughts and feelings during brunch with your girls and for the rest of the day enjoying the street festival and winning a giant stuffed giraffe. Between the 3 of you, you won enough stuffed animals to fill the entire backseat of your car and eventually left the festival with a caricature drawing of the 3 of you.

Before you knew it, it was 6:40 and you and your girls were back at the beach house getting ready for the party. 

You searched around your suitcase for the outfits that Iridia had packed for you and settled on. 

You gave yourself a once over in the mirror and fluffed your fro a little before re-applying your lip gloss. 

“GIRL, YOU LOOK SO GOOD. What is going on?  You tryna get chose?” Tika asks standing in the doorway as she smiles at you with her ipod in one hand and a freeze-able daiquiri pouch in the other. 

You laugh as Tika glides around the room shaking her hips to the beat and doing a little roll as she saunters over to you to help you clasp your shirt in the back.

It’s safe to say that you haven’t been exactly up to your fashionably self for the past few months but Iri giving you options with the different pieces of clothing  that she bought you had you feeling like yourself again.

“Damn, I’m good.” Iri says while giving you a twirl and takes selfies with you and Tika.

You purse your lips and give your best smize towards her phone as she snaps a photo of you and for a moment things feel like they used to. 

“Just wanted to feel cute for once. I love this top and girl it got my titties SIT-TING.” you reply giggling and childishly nudging your girls before asking if they’re ready to go. 

You put the address into the gps and you were off on your way.You tried turning up the radio to drown out how loud your thoughts were going and in a million different directions.

 About 20 minutes later. You look out the window once arriving at the skating rink to see cars already filling the entire parking lot and you could see people laughing while holding onto each other as they skated their way inside. 

The music is already blaring and you could definitely tell that “Daka”’s friend is a party planner. The venue had some sort of projector or something set up so that the entire room seemed like it changed “worlds” with each song. There were multiple food stations, and a live DJ playing everything from 90s R&B to New Orleans bounce music and everything in between.

You and your girls quickly grabbed a pair of skates and looked around for N’Jadaka and sure enough within a few minutes he was grooving his way over to you this time dressed in a slightly opened printed shirt and light washed jeans. 

He skated around you with a big ass smile on his face. His golds were gleaming under the lights as it bounced off of the diamonds engrained in it. “YOU MADE IT! How y’all doing?” he asks your girls and they stand there gasping with their mouths wide open. 

“I mean he could be his goddamn identical twin. You were not lying! The only thing he’s missing are the scars and his dreads. God damn.” Tika was the first to speak before Iri introduced herself.

“Hey, Happy Birthday, I’m Iri. This is Tika’s rude self and you already met our boo.” Iri says pulling him in for a quick hug. 

“ I’m sorry, excuse us, you just look exactly like somebody we knew. Happy Birthday! It was his birthday too. It’s wild how people really do be having doppelgangers. Alright, so I’m gonna go try not to break my damn leg. Knowing I gotta go to work on Monday. Come on.” Tika says taking Iri by the hand and making her way onto the rink with her to give you and him some time alone. 

You shift your weight trying to keep yourself steady as you sway to music , knowing that he’s eyeing you up and down.

“Man must’ve been a hell of a person. I’m glad you came though. I didn’t think Orleans was gonna do all of this.” he says laughing and you can’t control the butterflies feelings like they were fluttering around your stomach. That’s his laugh.

“He was. To me at least, he was. Of course, I mean I haven’t been to a roller rink in forever and I really needed some time to just know what it’s like to be carefree again.” you admit and he nods along listening to your words.

He decided to save his comment on “he was” for later. Hoping that there would be a later for the two of you and opted for taking your hand in his and leading you onto the rink .

“Well, in that case. Show me what you got and forget about everything else for a minute.” he offers and you accept  his offer and shakily make your way onto the rink like bambi trying to walk for the first time. 

“Okay, so I’ll admit. I don’t actually know how to skate. I don’t why I thought this was a good idea.” you manage to stand for all of 10 seconds before tripping over onto him and he turns towards the DJ talking into the mic and signals for him to slow the music down.

“I got you.” he says and “Always Be My Baby” starts to play softly in the background as the “world” changes to a starry night. 

You look up at him for a moment and nod before leaning into him. As you rest your head on his shoulder he begins to skate you left to right gently swaying you to the beat of the song as his hand rests respectfully on the small of your back almost instinctively. It took everything in you not to start tearing up again.

This was your song . He always promised that you’d be a part of him no matter what happens in life. You were always going to be his baby. 

All the couples were paired off and you looked around at Iri holding onto Tika and smiled knowing that they’ve never acknowledged their feelings for each other but it was clear as day to anyone else. 

He swayed you and held you against him while his thumb stroked your back gently and you closed your eyes trying to soak up your time with him. 

You don’t know how it happened or if this was one long drawn out delusion or what exactly was going on in the moment, but all you knew was that you were able to feel the warmth of your E in your arms again and his scent evading all of your senses. 

In this moment he was smiling and content and at peace, not being shipped back to you with claw marks in his chest and bruises all over him. He was here with even slow breaths and enjoying himself. 

You knew that he felt it too because as the song ended you opened your eyes to find him looking down at you with this look of confusion and adulation on his face. 

You run your fingers over his cheek and clear your throat and recoil your hand back by your side. 

“I think your friends are calling for you.” you say to him playfully as the men and one woman around your age skate over to him and around the two of you, asking you a bunch of questions at once.

E- N’Jadaka let’s go of you to turn to them and introduce them to you .

“This is Orleans big head ass, Khalil , Pen, Lina, and Big Mike.” he says and they say hey and ask you if you are from around the area and you talk back and forth. 

The conversation between you and his little group was so easygoing. It didn’t feel forced or awkward as he stood beaming from you to them.

“I've been there once or twice. I really liked the Hottentot Saartjie/ Sarah Baartman piece about the dehumanization and caricaturization of black women, especially darker skin women, then and now. It was both interesting and heartbreaking. It’s the reason why I do what I do now. I create safe spaces for black girls and women of all ages. It’s my greatest accomplishment and something I’m most proud of.” you answer Mike’s question about the new black art exhibit downtown.

Mike looks at you and shakes his head in wonder and amusement.

“Daka, with all due respect bruh. I gotta ask her to marry me. Or you need to let me know what aisle that was you met her because I’mma swing by your parents' store tonight. I think we might be out of bread or something.” Big Mike says before complimenting you on your outfit and Lina joined in by asking if you’d like to check out a new record store with her on Tuesday.  

Next thing you knew your girls skated next to you to see what was going on. Tika introduced herself to the group and Iridia followed through.

“Hey I heard something about a record store because I could use some new ones. I think our neighbors are tired of me playing Otis Redding every night for the last few weeks. Keep asking me if I had a breakup every time I see her. Bless her nosey heart , Mrs. Pepper.” Iridia says talking animatedly and as gesticulatively as she always does and his small group of friends as everyone does seems completely enamored by her. 

“Of course, yeah, why don’t you come too? And Mrs. Pepper just doesn't know good music but I may be biased because Cigarettes and Coffee is my favourite song. Hold that thought. My mouth is dry as hell from all that skating around, be right back-” Lina says before skating away for refreshments and the rest of the group talks amongst each other.

Other friends of N’Jadaka come up at random times to hug him, get photos, or say happy birthday.

“You want some?” Lina asks Erik as she returns  to the group with a cupcake in her hand as she peeled the wrapper off and offered Erik a piece of the chocolate dessert. She reached out her hand towards his mouth and you looked from her to him and then at the cupcake which looked like it had walnuts in it. You push the piece away from his mouth and she looks at you puzzled. 

“What’s up with you?” he asks looking confused 

“Chocolate walnut cupcake.” you say simply not realizing that you were supposed to have just met him this morning .

“I- I mean just a lucky guess you know most people have nut allergies and shit.” you try to cover your tracks and he let out a sigh before laughing and nodding.

“You right too. Damn I was gon be out here looking like Will Smith when he ate that shellfish in Hitch for the rest of the function. I’m allergic to nuts. Good looking out ma.” he says and you nod at him before telling him to go skate with his friends you’d meet up later.

As you part ways your friends have about 3000 questions each. Iri believing that that definitely has to be Erik and Tika believing that you both had lost your natural born ass minds. 

You all settle on how wild it is that he looked like Erik and left it there. You enjoyed the rest of your night swag surfing with a room full of new friends and your old forever friends and just fully enjoying your birthday. 

“WE LIKE TO PAARTTAAYYY. AYYYYEEE AYYYYYEEE.” you sung out loud at the top of your lungs with everyone else and Beyonce. 

Somehow you end up twerking on Lina and having a good laugh as the drinks flow through your system.

You glance over at N’Jadaka being circled by some of his guests and he breaks the circle to grab your hand and lead you to the middle of it with him. 

“MY BIRTHDAY TWIN!” he shouts over the music to his guests and you shake your head telling him that he doesn’t really have to share his spotlight with you.

“Ain’t no problem.” he responds and you watch as everybody starts to skate a circle around you and Erik and y’all both laugh and pose for pictures while people sing Happy Birthday the Stevie Wonder version.

 His friends and yours all took turns to skate up to pin money on you both. 

You cheer and clap along to the music as you sing Happy Birthday to him and he sings it back to you. 

Before you know it you're both smiling at each other and getting swept up into a soft gentle kiss that feels like electricity is pulsing between the two of you.

As you close your eyes you can get a glimpse of kissing him before he left for Wakanda. The way he pressed his forehead against yours , the way your hands rested against his beating heart, and the way that his soft plumps felt against yours.

You knew that he felt it too because when you  broke the kiss with a tug of his bottom lip he was staring down at you once again with a puzzled expression.

“I’m sorry if I overstepped. I just-” you explain before exiting the circle and making your way out of the skating rink.

You quickly take off the shows and put your regular shoes back on as you stand outside for a moment to get some fresh air and gather yourself.

"Why is this happening? How is this happening? People don't just get to come back. This is insane. This is insane."

It didn’t take long at all before Erik was smoothly grooving his way out of the door not once spilling his drink.

“You know ma, I’mma lot of things. But I know for sure stupid ain’t one of them.” he says swaying his shoulders to the music before he stops and stands in front of you.

“You know something, don’t you? How do we really know each other?” he asks slowly 

“I don’t. We met in Aloha Oakland for the first time. I feel so connected to you and believe that we have chemistry because you remind me of my ex. He passed away nearly a year ago and I didnt wanna tell you that right off the bat because the shit’s weird. “Hey, sorry I passed out ,  you cute but you remind me of my dead ex. So yeah, have a good day”.” you explain and he nods deciding once again to not press the issue. 

"I'm sorry for your loss. Grief is never an easy thing to go through. I feel I experienced so much of that so early I didn't know anything else besides death. I was told that my birth parents were both murdered. But my parents taught me through all that rot and decay of the heart something beautiful can still grow. They taught me how to live. That there is more to life is more than just surviving day to day out of spite and anger." He speaks slowly like he's really pondering the words that he wants to say before continuing. 

"It's kinda my fault. I feel like I was a lil too forward with all of this. My friends and the way that they party can be overwhelming. I'd like to make it up to you if you up for it. Just me and you. Maybe like a coffee or something quieter than this. I want to get to know you. Even though I know it's gonna sound corny as hell, I can't help feeling like I already do. You passing out by them discount cakes wasn't an accident at all, I think it was fate." he says and you look up at him before nodding. 

“I think so too.”