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kingtomura · 1 year ago

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Good Girl

Summary: It’s not your fault that your boyfriend was hard for people to warm up to. God, your parents are so lame. But so were you. So you did what anyone else with strict parents would, and you cut him off.

Bad idea.

Word count: 4k

part two is here!

Content: Tomura Shigaraki x female reader, explicit content, kinda quiet sex, cunnilingus, praise, slight humiliation, unprotected sex, strict parents, toxic relationship with parents, AU - no quirks, no use of y/n, gets a little mushy at the end im sorry

You would rather be anywhere else but here. You would pay to be anywhere else but right here, right now being scolded like some teenager who had been caught sneaking out after curfew. But you were here and you weren’t going anywhere any time soon.

“He’s just not good for you,” your father’s voice stressed. It dragged on, pulling you from your drifting thoughts. “You have so much ahead of you and we even agreed to this gap year so that you could figure out what you wanted to do, not so you could run around with some delinquent boy with no future–”

“He‘s not a delinquent,” You cut off, “you’re judging him without even giving him a chance.”

Your father sighs, knowing he’s fighting a losing battle, but knowing you inherited his stubbornness has never detoured him from taking your objections head on. He’s been on this earth longer than you, butting heads with others longer than you have. “Well, whatever he is, he’s not allowed to see you again. That’s final.” he says with a shrug of his shoulders. False air of nonchalance sending fury through your veins.

There would be no more arguing and you knew it. You desperately look to your mother, who is in her usual stance of resignation and uselessness when it comes to his word. If she saw things your way, she would never say. And even if she agreed with you, there would be no change. It has always been your father’s way or no way.

“I’m an adult, you can't tell me who I can and can’t see.” you try once more, not ready to end things here. It’s suffocating.

He scoffs, bringing a hand up to count his fingers, “You live under our roof, you eat our food, you drive our car, you give me attitude when I agree to give you time to figure out your life when you decided to leave university after two semesters,” his voice is rising and you begin to feel your eyes burn with the threat of tears, your chest tightening as its harder to catch a breath. You can’t cry here, it would only make things worse. “I don’t think it matters how old you are. I am done with this conversation. End things with him now or you won't have a pot to piss in by the end of the day.”

This cannot be happening. You're still sat on the plush sofa of the living room as your father stalks off with your mother in tow. The latter only glancing back with an empty look of pity as you stare at where your father had just been. Words burned into your mind while hot tears finally break and run down your cheeks. This is really happening.

And Tomura was going to be upset.

In a perfect world you could meet up with him tonight, talk it over, or even run away together and leave all this behind, but you know better. You know the two of you haven’t dated long enough to warrant running away together, but it still crosses your mind. You’ve never felt this way about anyone before and it's painful to think you never will again. Tomura just made you feel so.. Alive. There was so much to him and his witty dry humor that keeps pulling you in.

He’s cynical, he’s moody and sometimes he’s mean but god he could be so soft. Touch you in ways that felt like he reached your soul. Quiet nights where you would stay at his house and watch him play video games would turn into late night sessions of making love until the twilight of dawn peeked through the dark curtains of his room. There was no way you could let him go. But you had to. You had to. Your father had given you no other choice. So you take the coward’s way out.

You text him.

You send him a short text that would send you to the bathroom dry heaving, but you didn’t know what else to do. What more could you say other than your father had snapped at you and you both could no longer be together. It would hurt so much more facing him head on. You knew that if you had to speak to him face to face that you would crack, probably throw out your silly idea of running away together and then face the awkward rejection. This was all you could manage. You felt awful for it, finally forcing yourself off of the floor and dragging your feet to the bathroom to get ready for bed.

It had been hours and there was no response from Tomura. You couldn't blame him. What could anyone say to a break up text? You hollowly hoped he would fight for you. Even a little. But the flat Read 14:57 showed you otherwise. This had now become a heartbreak you werent quite expecting. You couldn’t help but second guess every interaction you had with him before. If maybe you read into things a little too deeply. If maybe, some smaller, quieter part of you dreaded your father was right.

There was no use of dwelling on that now. No point in running through what you would never know. So, you sighed, and finished up in the bathroom. Slipping on your silk sleeping gown that stopped above your knees and adjusted the small straps on your shoulder. You had cried for hours after your argument – if you could even call it that– with your father was over and your face ached. The bags under your eyes showing the worse for wear state you had found yourself in. it would be okay, you told yourself. You just have to sleep it off.

And that was your plan and you slid into your welcoming bed, soft comforter embracing you and your worn feelings. You feel more tears begin to sting behind your eyelids before there's a sudden tap at your window.

A trick of the wind, you decide and return to your somber thoughts.

You would have to move on eventually, but tonight? He was the only thing on your mind. His eyes, his hair, the way he would feign annoyance when you were overly touchy, craving closer contact. He always indulged you. Always gave you more, you knew he liked it as much as you did. You were lovesick.

Tap.

There was that noise again. Louder than before as if someone had thrown a rock right at your window. The room was still and quiet so you knew it hadn’t been your imagination.

Jumping to your feet and shuffling towards the window in question you brushed your curtains to the side to see the possible culprit. And when you do, your heart drops and instant regret fills you. Stomach aching as you take in the sight before you.

It’s Tomura Shigaraki and he is pissed.

Tomura, your Tomura leering up at you with another rock resting in his hand, bigger and ready to be tossed at your window if the last attempt didn’t work.

You look around, knowing no one is in your bedroom but yourself and the moonlight, then go to open your window, ducking your head out to get a better look at him. There he was, black hoodie oversized and so soft, red eyes burning in anger but you aren't scared. You’re relieved, it's him. He's here to see you, mouth turned down in a scowl and fists clenched in fury but he was here.

You couldn’t stop your hushed whisper, “what are you doing here?”

“I came to talk.” Was his only reply before he dropped the rock and walked towards your window. It wasn’t terribly high up, but higher than he could reach without a bit of help from you.

Now that he was closer you could see the anger in his posture much more clearly. All tense shoulders and narrowed eyes. It was enough to make your stomach turn. You couldn't help but worry your bottom lip as he pulled out his phone and took a step closer.

“Really? Over a fucking text message?” He hissed, rasp in his voice, uncaring of the time of night or who could hear.

“Tomura, shh, please–” you tried, hands coming up to placate him, if only a little. Your father would have your head if he heard another man in his home, let alone Tomura Shigaraki.

He huffed a sarcastic laugh, disbelief taking over his features, but he obliged, “I don’t care what your father told you. He can’t control who you talk to.”

You shake your head, the all too familiar sting of tears in your eyes threatening to fall, “I know. I told him that, but he threatened to kick me out, to cut me off. I’m sorry Tomura, but I can't.”

“He can't do that.”

You nod, knowing all too well that your father would go through with his threat. “He can. Technically. I'm an adult, so it’s his choice.” The tears fall now, seeing the rage dissipate from Tomura, slight drop of his shoulders showing disbelief and disappointment. It's too much. This is why you didn’t want to see him, couldn’t face him. “I'm so sorry,” you whisper, trying to hold in the sobs threatening to wrack your body and possibly wake your parents up. This could not have ended worse. “I don't want it to be this way.”

“Wow, I didn't know you were such a good girl.”

Your breath hitches, caught off guard, “What is that supposed to mean?”

He shrugs. “I didn't know you did everything daddy says. What a good girl you are.” The tone is one you’re familiar with. Condescending. Challenging. He’s testing you.

Your cheeks flushed. What could you say? That you’re not a good girl, actually. Then what would that make you? A bad girl? You would walk right into his trap. He’s watching, waiting for a response. Something to make you slip up.

You don't have the chance to respond before he’s taking a step forward, lifting your chin with a finger so that you could look him in the eyes. Even in the dim lighting of the room those crimson eyes looked into your own. Like he was delving deeper, looking for the response that you can't seem to give him. Nothing else matters in this moment. It’s just him and you and the pale moonlight dancing between you. The air is tense and unmoving, like the smallest noise, the faintest blow of wind would ruin this moment.

You couldn’t take it, couldn’t wait another minute before your body moved, leaning forwards onto the tips of your toes to give you more leverage as your lips pressed to his. His lips were still cold and dry from the cool air outside but that didn’t matter. Nothing matters more than knowing you needed more of him and you needed it now. Tomura’s hand came to rest at the nape of your neck, pulling you closer and the kiss deeper. Taking all of you in as his other hand gripped your waist.

Your hands wasted no time burying into his hoodie �� so soft and worn– the faint smell of citrus and cedar being a comfort as the intoxicating kiss deepened. Tomura wasted no time, slick tongue entering your mouth, hungry, like it was the last time you would have him this way. It was too much. It was not enough. You broke the kiss, a string of saliva following the short distance you put in between. Air seemed sparse, like you couldn't get enough and Tomura spoke before you could.

“Get on the bed.”

And you did, newfound vigor in your step as you eagerly did as what you were told. Energy ebbing through your veins as excitement overtook your previous anxiety. Tomura was a mere step behind, discarding his hoodie without care and joining you on the bed, caging you beneath him as he dove back in for another kiss, wet and warm, before trailing lower. Open mouthed kisses to your jaw, then neck, his hands, rough and warm gripping your thighs, taking in all he can. After leaving a particularly hard bite on your neck, Tomura lifted your gown up, smooth silk gliding with ease above your ass and resting below your breast. It was only natural for your legs to spread for him, cool air on your bare cunt making you shiver.

“Oh?” An amused huff from the man above you makes your cheeks heat further than before. He’s seen you like this many times before, but he’s always had a way of making you feel shy. “No panties, huh?”

You push past your embarrassment. “You know i dont wear them to b– ah!” you're cut off by the feeling of his finger sliding between your folds, slick making it glide, and rubbing over your clit. The surprise of the motion makes you press your thighs closer together. Tomura grins above you, before bringing his wet finger to his mouth, a mocking shh following the motion, tongue flicking out and licking the digit as his other hand pushed your legs apart again.

He bends down, bulge in his sweatpants pressing against your bare cunt. He’s so hard and that thought only makes you wetter. Tomura’s nose brushes yours, your eyelids fluttering shut as he dives to kiss you again. All open mouthed and wet. You could taste yourself on his tongue as well as feel the pressure of his clothed erection grind against you, rubbing against your bundle of nerves. You are sure your slick is dampening his sweatpants but Tomura doesn’t care. He’s grinding you into the mattress and you’re so close to begging him to get on with it you want to scream. But almost like he’s read your mind, he pulls away.

The kisses he places along your body set your nerves on fire, anticipation eating away at your patience as he takes his time. Once he’s reached his destination, right between your thighs, he places one wet kiss onto the plush of your inner right thigh. Another teasing move. Another way to make you squirm in excitement. He looks up at you, ruby eyes gleaming in the moonlight of the room.

“Be quiet for me, yeah?”

Tomura huffs a laugh at your eager nod, grin growing wider. So quick to please. Dedicated. “Good girl.”

The praise makes you falter for a second, embarrassment threatening to make its way to the surface once more. There was no time for it now, Tomura enjoyed catching you off guard. Loved surprises. He wastes no more time, tongue licking a wet strip between your lips. The action causing you to moan louder than you intended. Your hand rushes to cover your mouth. If you were to be caught in this predicament by either of your parents it would be horrendous for the both of you.

This doesn’t stop Tomura, though. If anything you were starting to think it encouraged him, because his relentless pace on your cunt was driving you wild. His long stripes simmered into just the tip of his tongue flicking your clit and sending jolts of pleasure roaring through you. You were already close, pleasure and pressure building and building until you were so close to tipping over–

Knock knock.

“Hey sweetie. I know it's late, I just wanted to talk for a second.”

It was your mom. Holy shit it was your mom and there's a boy in your bed with his head buried between your legs and holy shit. If she opened the door, if she barged into your room in the familiar way she always had a bad habit of doing, you would be done for. With wide eyes and accelerated breaths, you clamped down harder over your mouth with both hands. Even Tomura stopped in his tracks, gaze lazily focused on the door with curiosity bleeding into his indifference.

Your mother must have taken the silence as a sign of slumber, yet she continued. Voice muffled by the door between you both.

“Your father... was harsh today. And I’m sorry for that.” She pauses, long enough for you to believe she would be giving up and going back to her bedroom. You aren't so lucky, surely at this point you were very unlucky and you dreaded whatever else she had to say. “I just want you to know that he just wants the best for you.” your heart drops as she carries on, unaware and unconcerned of the other pair of ears listening in to her words. “We don’t know him that well. We can't risk you getting involved in something you're not ready for and throwing your future away.”

At this, Tomura rolls his eyes, interest clearly lost and goes back to his earlier movements. The sloppy kiss to your clit catches you off guard and forces a whine out of you. It was small, but still a noise. Squeezing your eyes shut you prayed this would be written off as an odd sleep noise. Wishing to the sky that it wasn't noticeable and Tomura would stop. He didn’t. It was in that moment he decided pressing a finger against your entrance would bring out more noises. The digit slipping in with minimal effort and adding more pleasure to this mix as he sucked your clit.

If your mother heard anything, she didn't make it known. The floorboards outside of your door creaking with the shifting of her weight. “Well, maybe we can get ice cream or something tomorrow. Have a little girl’s day?” The silence is palpable as she waits for an answer that won't come. “Okay well, goodnight sweetie. See you in the morning.”

You don’t know what you're more grateful for; the sound of her receding steps or that fact that Tomura wasn't cruel and waited until the telltale sound of a door opening and closing rang through the air before adding another finger and curling them. This time you couldn’t bite back the moan that escaped you, hands gripping the cotton of your duvet.

“Aw, how sweet,” Tomura started, sitting up while adding a thumb to your sensitive nub and rubbing slow circles to replace his mouth. “She wants to have a little girls’ day with you.”

His mocking tone would have gotten a reaction out of you any other time, but right now you were so close. On the precipice of an orgasm that’s been drawn out for far too long. You could only look at him with half lidded eyes as his fingers worked like magic sending you closer and closer, your breath hitching as you finally, finally reached the climax. Body shaking pleasure cascades over you like a tidal wave.

“There we go,” Tomura whispers, giving your cunt a playful tap after letting you ride the sensation out. He pulls away completely to take off his sweatpants and underwear, cock already hard and leaking. Your tongue darts out to wet your lips at the sight and you hear his breathless chuckle. “I’ll let you have a taste next time, but right now, I can't wait any longer.”

It was only when he began to line up with your entrance that you absently wondered about the lack of condoms you owned. You look up at him, question burning on your tongue but he only grins at you, and you swore in that moment he was a mind reader. “I didn’t bring any with me, sorry,” his voice was far from apologetic as he stroked his cock, rubbing the head between your folds and against your clit, slick soaking the head. “But don't worry,” he continued, leaning forward and you felt the pressure at your entrance, excitement buzzing through your veins. “I’ll pull out.”

Whether you believed him or not didn’t matter, you had no time to process a thought as he began stretching you to the limit with his size. A gasp escaped your parted lips as the sickeningly sweet feeling of being stretched too far too fast took over. He gave you a minute to adjust, even as his cock twitched in anticipation of movement. The grip he had on your hips was tight enough to bruise and you knew it was taking a lot of his self control to wait for you.

He pressed on, figuring it had been long enough and bottomed out with a sigh. Your walls clenched around him and swore you could cum from the stretch alone. After giving you a second to breathe he pulled back, almost pulling out, only to snap his hips back forward into you. Your head lolled onto the pillow, hand coming up once more to mute the moans dragging from your body. Tomura hoists your legs onto each side of his shoulders,bending them forward and successfully folding you like a lawn chair as he started his aggressive pace, forcing your tight heat to clench around his cock.

“Oh, fuck…” you couldn’t help but mutter as you struggled to hold off your already approaching orgasm.

Tomura saw this as a challenge. “What? You gonna cum on my cock?” he mocked, pace wild and rough, leaving you gasping as you shut your eyes, not ready to admit how right he was. “It's okay,” he continued, leaning closer and allowing his dick to press deeper inside you. The drag hitting the bundle of nerves inside and nearly sending you over the edge. “Come on, cum on my cock like the good girl you are.”

Those words push you over, hips convulsing as your legs shake and it takes Tomura slapping a hand over your mouth this time to quiet you. You couldn’t focus on anything else, let alone keeping quiet. Your body felt light and Tomura fucked you through it. His pace grew more erratic as his grinning face became one of focus, brows furrowing as his eyes shut and he focused on his pleasure. Your pussy squeezing around him making it harder for him to stave off his own nearing climax. You were worried that at this point you were both too far gone. The silence of the home would leave the messy noises between you both loud and clear for the entire house to hear. Tomura was great at keeping his composure but the soft groans coming from your lover only showed how much he was losing his grip.

“Can’t– fuck, sorry–” you didn’t have time to decipher his strange words, your curious eyes meeting his face to gauge his expression before you feel it.

His cock twitches inside you, seed painting your insides white as his thrusts didn't slow. He was hammering away at your insides, only pumping his cum further into you. You feel so full, the warmth spreading over your body like a blanket. He came in you. Even though he said he wouldn’t, he did. The worst part about it? You don’t care. It's invigorating. You feel even more attached to him. Even closer. You want more.

Overstimulated and weak, you whimpered, thoughts swimming as Tomura finally came down from high. Slowing his thrusts and panting heavily. Your heart is drumming against your chest as he removes your sore legs from his shoulders. Shuddering as he slips out of your tight heat, feeling the cum dripping out of you and onto your sheets.

The bed dipped as he took his place next to you. Out of breath and eyes focused on the ceiling. Your ears were ringing with the sudden quietness of it all. Things felt different, heavy.

“You could always just not tell them.” It was Tomura who broke the silence first. “Act sad, mope around, and then come see me at night.”

You glanced over, vaguely registering the sweat cooling on your body. You would need to get up and get cleaned up soon. “Yeah, but if they catch me–”

“They won't. I’ll teach you how.” he turns towards you, bringing a hand to your chin to make you face him. There’s a fuzzy feeling turning in your chest and the familiarity of heat rising to your cheeks is starting to drive you mad. His grin is enamoring, red eyes almost glowing with mischief in the moonlight. “I’ll show you the ropes.”

There's an ache that tugs at your chest as you nod. “Okay.”

You are so fucked.

#shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura #shigaraki tomura x reader #shigaraki tomura x you #mha x reader #boku no hero academia #my works #tomura shiragaki #tomura x reader #mha tomura #shigaraki smut #fanfic #my hero academia

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ventique18 · 1 year ago

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Meleanor is trying to fry Lilia with lightning WHILE he's holding Egglleus omg. SEBEK'S CRYING FOR DEAR TAMAGO-SAMA! AND!

Yuu-chan finally speaks omg! "S--Stop!""At this rate, the egg--!" They're all so concerned for the egg even when they know it'll hatch anyway. So precious!

"Kheeheehee... What will you do, Lilia? Will you perish here with the egg?"

She's threatening to make fried egg out of her own son if Lilia REFUSES to run away omfg. She's so unhinged oh my lord!

Then when she strikes again. Silver blocks the blow for Lilia. Lilia was shocked and Meleanor gets angry, and when questioned, Silver says:

"You two care deeply for each other, so why do you fight?! Please, please stop. I beg of you!"

Baul follows suit and begs Meleanor to stop, too. Lilia begs her not to go to battle.

Lilia: "If we lose both you and Levan... I wouldn't know what to do."

Meleanor: "I will say it again. I will not lose. No matter how many of them gather, no matter how many times they gather, I will burn them to the ground. Again and again."

Meleanor: "However. On the occasion that I fail to return, then you still have that child. You shall make it hatch."

Lilia: "Impossible! A dragon needs its parents' magic and affection... It needs true love to hatch! I cannot give parental love. Even loving anyone... I can never make this egg hatch!"

Meleanor: "You love me, no? Or were you lying when you told me you would marry me when we were young?"

Lilia: "Ha?! That was... That was over 200 years ago, when we were brats! Why are you bringing that up now..."

Meleanor: "And you love Levan as well. You, my right-hand general, spent more time with him than I was married to my husband and left-hand general (Levan). You will surely treasure the child born of our blood. Wouldn't you agree, Lilia?"

Lilia: "What foolishness! Ha?!"

Lilia still struggles to object, but Meleanor starts enveloping herself in walls of thorns.

"One day, to the fae who dwell on this Kingdom of Thorns, Malleus will become the auspicious star that shines and burns brightly... And to the humans, a malefic star that they shall fear.

"Malleus... My beloved child. I leave him to you, Lilia."

"This is my night's blessing."

#twisted wonderland #twst book 7 spoilers #ventique rambles #meleanor draconia #lilia vanrouge

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hollaforlyla · 5 months ago

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reuniting after the merge ── ninjago x reader , ft. lloyd garmadon ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

reader has no elemental power. they're self-trained in karate, and have some anger issues lol.

" elemental powers are overrated, i much rather fight with my words n fists...or maybe yk, an old rusty pipe? "

with no idea how or why they ended up here, reader has made it they're mission to get back to their loved ones. no matter the cause.

a/n: tried a new style of writing, prob won't stick with it, just experimenting...finishing dragons rising made me write this at 1am.

"let me get this straight──"

reader watched as a kid, around their age, walk back n forth around them. he had brown, messy hair, a black turtle necked shirt, dusty green cargos and a busted baseball ball over his shoulder.

he rubs the bridge of his nose with his two fingers as he spoke to reader.

"you've been out here, all by yourself for almost 4 months now- you've barely eaten anything──" the reader picks at the rock their sitting on, both listening and zoning out while listening to the boy. "── i find you injured on the side of a mountain, after getting chased by a "dragon", your telling me your looking for the ninja, who are probably dead in my-"

he froze suddenly.

feeling the breeze of the metal knife swift pass his cheek, stabbing the tree trunk close to him...he looks back at reader, locking eyes with their cold, [eye colored], eyes.

"sorry, i forgot you don't like──" he stopped talking. reader cross back their legs and sat comfortably on the rocks again.

"have you not heard of the ninja? you act like this is their first time in a situation like this."

the boy just stared at reader.

"this is ALL of our first time being in a "situation" like this!"

you grunt as you hopped off the rock, making your way to the knife stabbed in the bark of the trunk. with a grunt, reader manages to pull the weapon out and roll their eyes, "whatever── uh, what's your name again?"

the boys eye twitched as he watched reader walk by, back to their previous spot by the rock.

"adam...my name is adam...for the 24th time-"

reader hummed happily, cutting the boy off. "oh yeah! now i remember!"

the boy, named adam, exhaled loudly, however before he could respond, a loud thud was heard a short distance away. reader and adam locked eyes almost immediately after haaring it, worry and fear written all over them.

they thought they lost the dragons, could they have smelt them out? not the point right now, reader. gotta get out of this situation first.

reader grabbed adam by the wrist and pulls them both behind the rock, squatting to hide themselves better.

they two of them peek their head out to see two earth dragons circle around the area not too far from them. they looked more bigger then before.

"what do we do?" adam asked, the two still watching the dragons carefully.

"we fight- duh!"

"excuse me?" adam whisper yells, causing reader to slam their hand over his mouth and duck back down behind the rock. the dragons heads moved to their direction.

adam pulls their hand away harshly, "you cannot be serious, you'll get ripped to shreads and become those beasts tonights dinner!"

reader didn't respond. angry at the point adam could be right. their still injured from their last incounter with the dragons; falling from a mountain top and surprisingly not dead; reader's ankle took a nasty hit.

hurts to walk. nightmare to run.

"you don't even have powers and your ankle is sore, your in no condition to fight two massive beats like dragons!"

"and you have a half broke baseball bat, and a stupid nose ring- your no help either. unless the dragons want a nose piercing!"

"why are you being snappy with me!?"

"you started it!"

"did not!"

"did too!"

"didn't!"

"did!-"

adam now slammed his palm over reader's mouth, hearing the breathing of one of the dragons right behind the rock they were hiding behind.

reader and adam locked widened eyes, unsure what to do right now. is this really how they both die? injured and reader hasn't even completed their mission in finding their friends.

"hey, nasty!!"

all three, readers, adams, and the earth dragons head spun behind them, seeing a boy dressed in orange and black hair and a girl with pink hair and cat ear headphones.

each of them had marks on, so reader couldn't see how they looked. the boy sounded 14, while the girl sounded 15.

"pick on someone your own size!!"

"arin, that's not the best line to use in this kind of situation!" the girl yelled, seeing the dragon now charge toward the two.

adam and reader watched as the two kids dodged and fought the dragon. standing in their spot dumbfounded; "where did those kids even come from?" adam asked and reader shrugged, "do-do we thank them after? i'm not su-"

reader froze in realization as they watched the fight.

"what?"

"...weren't there two of them?"

feeling hot breath shiver down their backs, the two elder teenagers turned around slowly only to come face to face with the dragons brother.

"dont...move.." adam whispered and reader's eyebrows furrowed; "we're about to get mauled by a giant dragon, and your telling us to not move??"

"don't be stupid. this dragon is blind.." reader locked eyes with the dragon. adam was right. "then what do we do?"

adam paused before speaking up quietly, "slowly...we step away from its face. i don't think it can smell us, so if we move away ever so slowly we will be okay."

and they did just that. the dragons snout got closer n closer to readers face when they began to move to the left slowly. the hot breath of the dragon caused the to cringe.

just as they thought they were in the clear, reader stepped on a twig causing it to snap. they froze hearing the dragon roar and turn its body to reader's direction.

"reader, MOVE!"

not needing to be told twice, reader jumped out of the way as the dragon suddenly attacked with his giant claw. adam got his baseball bat out, picking up a small rock and tossing it in the air, hitting it with the bat, watching it go flying towards the dragons head.

time froze as the rock bounced off the dragons head, adam felt beads of sweat droop down his forehead, and he chuckled nervously.

the dragon's attention was now drawn to adam...who attempted to grab another rock, but he ended up falling backwards, twisting his ankle and he yelped in pain, falling to the floor.

"great." reader spoke to themself, looking around to see if they can find something, anything, to help adam but their mind was scattered left and right.

adam could actually die right in front of their eyes.

do they run? they're ankle hurts like he'll now because of all this movement. fight? with what, adam was right, they don't have any powers. it's a being of great size, they have nothing to fight back with.

"what do you do, what do you do!?"

suddenly a bright, green flash of light caused reader to duck down as a energy ball blasts te dragon off its feet.

"woah!!" both adam and the pink haired girl shouts as adam crawled toward reader and the girl jumped out of the way of the dragon who crashed into his brother the two were currently fighting off.

"awh man, there was a party and nobody invited me?" reader turned their head toward a familair voice. seeing a boy dressed in green land on top of a rock after throwing the energy ball.

"i'm hurt, you guys!" reader couldn't see, but the boy in green had a playful smile under his mask. the two now injured dragons, flee away from the scene to recover...the boy named arin and the pink haired girl watched them fly off.

"yeah, that's right! fly away while you still have wings!"

arin pants has he falls to his knees, catching his breath. his friend, who he called sora during the fight, caught him and smiled fondly.

reader was still looking at the green figure, who's eyes locked with theirs. Adam felt a small tension between this stare off. "reader...are you──"

reader stood up, letting go of adam who watched them walk slowly toward the green boy.

"reader.." the boy in green spoke softly...removing his mask to revel his face.

reader's breath hitched...recognizing the boy immediately.

"reader!" he laughed, sprinting towards them. he dropped his sword mid running and engulfes reader in a tight hug, his hands gently grabbing their hair and his head in the crook of their neck.

"i thought....i'd never see you again!!" his voice cracked as he spoke, tears spilling out of his eyes and down his cheeks.

"lloyd.. is that really-"

the blonde boy pulled away and looked at reader with a sad smile, placeing his forward on theirs and pushed a piece of hair behind their ear.

he nods, humming happily; "it is.."

readers eyes widened, feeling tears form in their eyes buy they buried their face in their long lost lovers shoulder.

while the two had their small reunion, arin and sora walked over to adam who watched the scene unfold. "is your ankle okay?" sora asked the brunette, who looked up at the girl and the boy.

however, arin was smiling at the two ninjas in front of him.

"uh, yeah; just a lil' bit sore.."

"i think i can wrap it up for you, if you want. you can come back with us. looks like lloyd wouldn't be too upset with that idea..." she smiled softly, helping adam up to his feet, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and followed arin who ran toward the two lovers with a happy smile.

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bearwithegg · 6 months ago

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Fight Like a Girl || B.Blackwood || Part 2 ||

My thoughts have just been plagued with scenes I can write for this, i honestly intended this to be 2 parts but I ALREADY HAVE IDEAS FOR PART 3 SO FUCK IT WE BALL???

PART 1 HERE

PART 3 HERE

Kieran!Benjicot Blackwood (fancast) x f!Reader

Words: 2.2k

Warnings: Swearing??? Idiots in love but they dont know what that means

Tags <3: @spider-stark

***

War, for all that it brings with it, destruction, pain, suffering on a scale hitherto unknown remained a constant and unchanging conundrum. Were the gods so cruel as to let brother kill brother over trivial squabbles? It was a fascinating thing, to understand, to learn. You, however, decided in this current juncture it felt like a personal punishment aimed to torment and break you down. Realistically, the suffering it caused on a wider scale was insurmountable and that was something you could acknowledge. But in this instance, the way your body aches and screams from constant use makes it feel like a personal sleight.

“Your grip is weak.”

A soft groan of frustration exhales when you sigh, “I cannot hold the sword otherwise.” Dropping the sword by your side, it had been hours without respite and weeks of training for what? You still couldn’t even hold a sword properly and that frustrated you only more.

Benji laughs, softly, circling you with his head tilted to the side. You want to hit him but decide against it. After all, he didn’t need to visit your tent and assist in getting you battle ready — yet he did it either out of some sense of male honour or he secretly enjoyed overseeing your own personal agony.

“Does my ineptitude amuse you, my Lord?” You throw the sword on the ground, it landing with a thud on the canvas flooring. In the throes of frustration, you wipe the sweat from your brow and run a hand through unevenly chopped locks of hair.

“Your petulance, perhaps.” The boyish smile breaking through his hardened demeanor always caught you off guard. A gentle reminder that he was not some battle beaten man, he was young and had his innocence ripped from him; more or less like you. “You may not see it but there is improvement,” he dips down to pick the sword up, holding it out for you to take it again.

Right or not, it didn’t matter in the present. The improvement may have been so miniscule it might as well not have counted, though it was always difficult to see one's progress without the lense of the past. And with a sigh of concession, you snatch the sword from his hand and give him a goading look, lips pressed into a thin line.

“Again,” he instructs firmly, tongue protruding slightly out from between his lips — he was too good at that, switching from his natural charming disposition to a commanding authority in an instance. As if two halves of him were at odds with each other, another part of him lay dormant but the crazed look in his eyes often betrayed his steadfast composure. You weren’t sure if you liked it or feared it.

With a roll of your wrist and standing with a sturdy bearing, you take an offensive stance. His eyes wander all over you, in a completely different scenario it may have been flattering or intrusive, but there is no desire hidden away in the deep brine pools of his eyes. Under his scrutinous gaze you hold firm; at least my wrist doesn’t feel like falling off.

Improvement.

He steps to your side flank, head tilted in thought. The low hum accompanying the loud thoughts you wished he’d say out loud.

When did he get so close? You swallow nervously — he was a practical man, but often opted to show you how to do something by watching him first. Surprisingly gentle to the touch he brings a hand over yours, the one that grips the sword and adjusts your grip. Tilting your wrist slightly and nudging your thumb to a different position.

“Can you feel the difference?” He murmurs, an unexpectedly tender moment that would have floored you entirely had you not spent weeks training at his command. Even now though, you feel composure waning, creaking away like a tree that has had its trunk chopped halfway.

“Feels like… I have more control,” You utter, looking slightly over your shoulder. Oh. He was much closer than you thought.

He nods, softly adjusting your grip to keep the blade upright, though he doesn’t move his hand this time. “Your stance is good and solid. But means little if you have no strength to fortify it…” His other hand is held up so that you can see it and slowly brings it down to your hip. Not once during this small interaction does he break eye contact, it was as though he was giving you the chance to stop him if you wanted to.

You don’t, of course.

A moment of hesitation as he tentatively touches your hip before holding it and rotating you ever so slightly, “what you lack in strength, you have in speed… This stance is better for your momentum.”

“Right,” you whisper, blinking out of the daze you felt yourself fall into by the pull of his gaze. His eyes were so lovely. In moments like this they were bright with a golden hue, as if marked by the Gods. Other times they were dark, dangerous abyssal pits that you could equally get lost in. But not now.

“Good,” he smiles, the same boyish smile that makes you a little nervous and nauseous concurrently. Which was a strange feeling because you weren’t repulsed by him and yet your body reacted all the same. No one had ever elicited such strange reactions within you like he did.

“Try and disarm me.”

“What?” You feel your arm immediately drop as he steps away and unsheathes his own sword. No longer honey touched eyes boring into yours, they were void and wild. He doesn’t give you a chance to process anything before swinging his sword, you have no choice but to stumble back, practically flailing your own sword to stop from getting hurt.

Clang!

The metal blades ricochet off one another and you take the chance to scurry across the bed swiftly before he can attempt another blow, “fuck, fuck — fuck!” You hiss, standing on the other side of the tent, barely a chance to think properly before he’s back onto you like a grounded tempestuous storm.

With wide eyes you jump out of the way, his sword connects with the side table and wood splinters off into pieces. The first casualty — you’d have laughed or joked if you weren’t absolutely fearing for your life in a way. Heart pounding hard as you take a chance to counter, using a leg to disable him by going for his knees but he sees it and contorts his body just in time.

“C’mon!” He shouts, eyes wild and borderline murderous.

Unsure what possibly possessed you other than it felt right. Call it a childish rebuke or not, you instantly straighten your stance and yell back at him, a deep and guttural yell, like one would trying to fend a bear off an attack.

He licks his lips, the grin of a mad man apparent, “there she is.”

This time you swing first, kicking off the back leg gives you a good enough propulsion and wind up with the sword. Cling! He cross blocks, letting your blade slide down his own and the two of you are practically face to face, the slightest smirk pulls at his lips and you match it with a barely audible snarl.

Using your full body weight, you push into him to get distance which only just works.

Another swing from him, narrowly missing your shoulder as you jump aside, his sword clashing with one of the bed posts, it snaps under the force and limply hangs onto the unmarked wood. You take advantage of his over extension, ducking beneath his arms and opting for the best option, shouldering him in the waist and bringing him down to the ground.

Not your finest work, but he tumbles - and you with him - onto the canvas flooring, but at least you had the upper hand and though strength was not in your arsenal just yet, speed was. Pinning him to the ground, you straddle higher than the waist to keep him from bucking you off or swinging his legs around.

Both of you held your blades to each other's throat in a stalemate, chests heaving with heavy breaths.

“A fair play, my lady,” he pants quietly, though the impish grin on his face suggested otherwise. Your eyes travel down to his other hand where he had his dagger pressed softly against the leathers of your tunic, no doubt a lethal puncture in the abdomen if you were in a real fight. He lowers his blades, “you are improving — getting better at trusting your instincts.”

“You went easy on me,” you whine, tossing your blade indignantly. The semi victory loses its glory almost instantly, souring in your mouth. Standing back up seemed to be more effort today than usual, muscles shaking, screaming for a modicum of respite. But war does not rest so neither shall your body.

“If you wish for me to kill you, then you need only ask,” he jests, you knew this — he was holding out for a reason. You hadn’t seen him in battle but can very well imagine without much stretch of the imagination how he has coined the notorious namesake of ‘Bloody Ben Blackwood’. Even more it seemed, he was often harsher, stricter and more brutal when he would lead training with the younger boys.

“Don’t offer such a tempting proposal,” you laugh, tired, exhausted.

He looks at you, seriously for but a moment, “if you desire rest, it is okay to take it.” And the sweet, caring and kind Benji fronted, flecks of gold honey in his eyes as he steps forward and grabs your hand with a touch so kindly it seemed foreign. He need not force you, tugging you to the bedside and sitting you down, “you are not weak for needing rest.”

You chuckle softly, “there is no rest for someone like me, I need to be ready for when we march forward within the tenday.”

“You won’t be much use to us if your legs cannot even carry you. Rest.” He says firmly, pushing gently on your shoulder which didn’t need much for you to collapse onto the bed. “We can resume overmorrow.” He’s seated on the side of your bed now, you open your mouth to contest but he glowers immediately, tilting his head forward and setting his jaw as if to silently say ‘don’t you dare’.

So you don’t dare.

“If I was less encumbered by my exhaustion I’d have hit you for looking at me like that,” you bite, rolling onto your side and instinctively curling in on yourself.

“You certainly would have tried.” He laughs.

“And succeeded, I pinned you already today — I could do it again if I willed myself.”

“Is that so? Perhaps we should get a maester to check those ears of yours, did I not request you disarm me? I don’t recall asking you to pin me.”

“Hmmm,” you hum, narrowing your eyes at him though the barely suppressed smile betrayed your poor attempt to keep a straight face. “I stopped thinking the moment you attacked me like a brute.”

He nods along with your words and though his words are vaguely threatening, his smile indicates a hint of mischievousness, “a Brute am I? You have a crass tongue, My Lady, you’d better keep it in check.”

“Clover.”

“Hm?” His head tilts to the side, like a dog hearing a command.

“Call me Clover… Garrus finds it easier… Less likely to accidentally call attention to my identity.” You run your fingers over the furs of your bed, naturally you omit the little part of the nickname because that seemed sacred to Garrus. Only he can call you that. But Benji had your trust, and you had his, even if it be an unspoken bond that grew stronger the more time elapsed within one anothers company. He at least deserved a little part of you.

There is silence, as he sits on your words, a faint smile ghosting his lips and he nods singularly, “As you wish, Clover.” And the strangest feeling encompasses the tent, it was thick but not suffocating, warm but not a hellfire. His hand moves so deftly, you hadn’t seen it until his fingers barely grazed your temple, pushing back a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

He holds it, a moment, two moments, before his eyes blink rapidly, something reminding him of his place and he flushes red, retracting his hand quickly as though he had touched hot coals. “A-Apologies… forgive me — that was wholly inappropriate. Please do rest, I will see you overmorrow.”

It happened rather quickly, he stands and you sit up as swiftly, “Benji.” You call but he was out quicker than bat out of the hells. Your shoulders slump, a faint pout on your lips as you try to decipher what that could’ve been about. Whatever it had been, you liked it, you liked him but that could mean a plethora of things.

You sigh, falling back into the bed and staring at not particularly anything. Perhaps it would be prudent to speak on the matter with Garrus when he returned.

#house of the dragon #hotd #benjicot blackwood x reader #benjicot blackwood #benjicot x reader #bloody ben blackwood #bloody ben x reader #hotd one shot #house of the dragon one shot

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actual-changeling · 5 months ago

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We don't talk enough about the fact that RIGHT after Memento Mori we get an episode where a woman's fiance is killed and she loves him so much she literally brings (a version of) him back to life.

He died shortly before their wedding, and in the end she performs the ceremony with him and then releases his "soul" and mourns him. Scully and Mulder witness most of it.

I already mentioned the parallels to DeadAlive at some point:

But when you compare Kaddish to Memento Mori the similarities are practically screaming at you. The title itself refers to a Jewish prayer of mourning and fits perfectly.

Not only is the colour scheme the same just reversed, the actions and their positioning mirror each other too. Add to that the fact that these are Jewish traditions and thus by extension Mulder's traditions and you have a vortex of pain.

The woman's father even says that she tried to bring him back with her love—but he's merely a husk, a dead man walking. I think you could say that Scully is already a dead woman walking at this point, though by Redux it's quite literal. They both know that, they both were forced to confront it at the hospital, they are both aware that there's a timer looming above them as it ticks and ticks.

Mulder and Arial cannot accept reality, so they fight it with their beliefs. Belief in the truth, in God and her traditions, it all comes down to a matter of faith.

Here are some comparisons of what I consider to be the most important shots/parallels.

My favourite part, however, is the ending.

Scully shows up and helps Mulder back on his feet (he got knocked down by said semi-revived now-husband) and then asks him about what's happening.

Saying Goodbye.

We get a wonderful shot of Mulder's face as he says it, and oh look it's familiar devastation and grief! From the moment he learns about her diagnosis, Mulder is both preemptively grieving her and simultaneously refusing to accept any of it. No matter how far he tries to run from it, he'd never run from Scully and thus cannot escape her equally inescapable death sentence.

Arial had to accept the death of Isaac and Mulder has to accept Scully's fate.

Without wanting to, Mulder is already beginning to say goodbye and preparing himself for the loss he knows will destroy him. Everything Mulder does, from looking for a cure to celebrating her birthday because it might be her last, is his personal song of mourning—his prayer directed at everyone and no one.

He invented wishing her back to life and did it over and over again, however many times it takes; he needs her more than he needs to breathe.

#alex watches x files #txf #the x files #x files #dana scully #fox mulder #scully x mulder #mulder x scully #msr #txf meta #msr meta #txf memento mori #txf kaddish #txf cancer arc

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bwat5-blog · 17 days ago

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Breaking The Cycle: Silco and Jinx's final talk

**Spoilers For Arcane**

The relationship between Silco and Jinx is wonderfully complex and dark. Father and daughter, teacher and student, but also haunter and haunted.... People love both of these characters and rightfully so. Even Silco who I have been so harsh on is a wonderful character in his own right. Brilliant, well spoken, and so tragically twisted he cannot see how lost he has become. Jinx, for her part, is the story of a little girl whose mind is ripped apart by the violence around her, and how through her own strength as well as the love and support of those she meets along the way reclaims her soul in the face of overwhelming loss.

What I want to talk about today is this discussion between "them" in the second to last episode of the series. I have done so in a few small ways over the last few weeks but never as a focus. And every time I have been surprised to read some of the thoughts and responses to this scene. So, to that end. I thought it merited a good focused look. To any who take the time to read, thank you so much. I hope you get something out of this like I do!

How We Got Here:

Okay, we are here to discuss that scene, but that is almost at the end of the show. I have written quite a bit about both Silco and Jinx, and their relationship. Therefore I am not doing a complete and total deep dive here regarding their past. But, as I like to say context is our friend. So to understand this moment, let's at least do a quick rundown of what lead to it.

Silco, Vander and Felicia were all very good friends in Zaun when they were young. Silco and Vander were the primary architects for the idea of Zaun but Felicia was very close with them. Silco and Vander swore an oath to create a safer Zaun for Felicia's unborn child, who of course is Vi.

Sometime after Felicia's death during their revolutionary activities, Vander blames Silco and almost kills him. Leading to their complete parting of ways, Silco losing an eye, and Silco completely reinventing himself from that pain and anger.

Taking revenge, Silco abducts Vander and causes the deaths of Sheriff Grayson and Benzo. During the attempted rescue of Vander, he tries to have Vi killed, and through his actions causing the scenario to begin with is responsible for the deaths of Vander, Mylo and Claggor.

Silco takes Powder for his own and raises her as his daughter. Teaching her to weaponize her pain and anger until she starts going by Jinx and becomes a part of his operations, spreading Shimmer and fear and death throughout the Undercity.

Silco is killed during Jinx's mental breakdown while trying to convince Jinx to kill Vi instead.

Now, a few things of note moving forward regarding their relationship that are very important:

Silco Did Love JInx- Despite the darkness of their meeting. I do think Silco loved Jinx as his daughter. He is shown to be very patient and defensive of her. He is extremely distraught when she is dying on the bridge after her fight with Ekko and even more so when it seems Singed may have killed her.

That Love Was Completely And Totally Toxic- As I stated in the beginning of this document I am not doing a whole run-down on their relationship again demonstrating Silco's influence. But for a quick example; Silco knows Jinx carries a tremendous amount of unresolved trauma over losing her family. She thinks Vi is dead. Silco finds out Vi is alive and the only thing he tries to do is kill her before she can find Jinx, to prevent losing her himself.

Jinx Loves Silco- At the end of the day, regardless of how their story together began, Silco matters to Jinx. She was with him during her formative years. She was so young when Connal died she probably barely remembers him. And she has mentally distanced herself from Vander as a father figure to protect herself. (I'm not saying she doesn't care. See almost all of season two as proof that she does. I'm just saying they don't have the same bond as they might have if things had gone differently. That's all).

Life Without Him:

In the wake of Silco's death, Jinx is alone. She and Vi are worlds apart, Vander is dead, Silco is gone, and the people of the Undercity fear her. But as the story develops she starts to come back to life, little by little. Growing "closer" with Sevika, Isha coming into her life. These things and more slowly start to open her world in a way that is more than death and destruction, especially when she reconnects with Vi.

But we do see hints of how Silco's legacy influences her.

Life With Isha-

In the months since the battle against Vi and Caitlyn, Jinx has found a measure of piece in living quietly with Isha. She stays out of the public eye. She has not fought against the Noxians or Enforcers. Her whole life is with this little girl who quite literally fell on her. And while of course there are bigger things at work, and we understand that this small world she has made for herself cannot last, we need to remember how we left things with Jinx. On her back, urging Vi to kill her. So how does Silco's memory intrude?:

Sevika comes in, wanting Jinx to take part in their upcoming rally. And when Jinx refuses Sevika grows frustrated:

S- "Silco spent his whole life trying to rally the undercity together.. stupid joke that it is, you have the chance to pull it off."

J- "I told you, I'm not interested".

S- "Do you know how much he sacrificed to protect you?!.. he believed in your potential". (As soon as she slams her fist down Jinx starts breathing heavy, glitching, eyes wide)

J- "well then he shouldn't have died!"

Cut to Silco's former office...

"Still giving me the silent treatment"

We listen as Jinx speaks to the open air, spinning Silco's old chair. What it basically comes to is she feels she probably owes him being that symbol (the idea of her owing him anything is completely outrageous but we aren't going there right now), but is afraid of losing what she has with Isha. She says he should speak up if he wants her to be his rebel leader otherwise, he really is gone. And there is no reason for her to stay.

Isha Taken-

Isha being taken at the rally is what drives Jinx back into the world against her will. Back into the violence and the death. And why did Isha attend that rally? Sevika came and spoke of Jinx's responsibility. Of Silco's sacrifice. Now, let me totally clear. Isha is a wild-child and was already doing stuff at the checkpoints and painting images for the rebellion. I am not putting this on Sevika in turns of blame. My point, is that it all comes back to Silco. Silco's shadow slithered into her peace and now, it's gone. And as we see, in this moment he is not comforting, or reassuring as a specter. He is another mocking demon in a moment of loss.

So what does this all mean:

The death of Silco, while incredibly emotional and traumatic for Jinx, was the beginning of her freedom. Even in death, Silco's reputation, his legacy, his actions, they all cast a shadow over Jinx that she cannot get away from. The people of Piltover see the monster Silco made her into, the people of Zaun see her as his heir. The one who can unite the Undercity in glorious revolution. All she wants is to be with Isha....

She can't get away from it. And through plot, and visual story telling the show is NOT vague about this. "Still giving me the silent treatment" implies she has tried to talk to him since his death. When does she finally see him? When she is angry, and scared for Isha, and pushing back against the shadows in her mind.

I am willing to admit that it's probably just my dislike of him (again as a villain he is amazing but I'd chuck him in a meatgrinder in person). But the way I see that image above is that after Jinx tearfully said he needed to speak up or it would mean he was really gone in his old office.. here he is laughing at her in a moment of darkness and rage.

"Haha, you wanted me. Here I am"..

In the Bunker:

J- "go away.. you're too late" S- "oh, it's a hell of a place. It says something about the late Marcus that he found imprisoning your sister to be a greater mercy than killing her" J- "killing isn't mercy" S- "a spark of rebellion still burns inside that husk, I see. No. Killing is a cycle. One that started long before Vander and me. And one that will continue long after the two of you. J- "I'm done running in circles' S- We build our own prisons. Bars forged of oaths, codes, commitments. Walls of self-doubt and accepted limitation. We inhabit these cells, these identities, we call them us. I thought I could break free by eliminating those I deemed my jailers. But... Jinx.. I think the cycle only ends when you find the will to walk away".

Okay, we come at last to the scene I really wanted to dig into here. Jinx is in the Kiramman bunker, not Stillwater as some folks seem to have missed. She has lost Isha. She has just spoken with Caitlyn, she is quiet, and weak, and sounds so.. so exhausted. Her hair is undone, she isn't eating, and she has been picking at the skin of her fingers. She is truly in a very dark place.

But it is so.. so different than the darkness we are used to from her. There is no glitching, no fits of rage or empty pained laughter. For all the pain she is in and the clear, crushing depression, there is also a clarity she has not really ever shown. She apologizes to Caitlyn in her way, she finally can see how much Vi loves her and how much she loves Vi in return. In giving up, in surrendering all of those horrible battles in her mind and laying them down because she intends to end her life, she is seeing things more clearly than she has ever been able to. And it is in this state we get the above exchange.

Now, I have seen some various gripes about this across several places. Here are a few:

Silco has been reduced to being a pro-piltover mouthpiece.

By hearing it from Silco we are seeing jinx hasn't really progressed.

The scene doesn't make sense because Silco would never say this.

Regarding the accusations of character assassination of Silco:

Silco as his own character, including his own story, beliefs, ideals and values, is completely and utterly irrelevant to this scene. This is not about what he would or wouldn't do if he were alive, because he isn't. At the risk of stating the extremely obvious, Jinx is alone in this place. But even as far as she has come her mind is still not whole. So in this terrible moment of loss and pain as she is on the cusp of a realization that will change her life forever, who Silco was does not matter. He is simply the pencil her mind is using to write the lesson in a way she can understand.

Regarding the accusation that seeing him means Jinx has not learned or progressed:

This moment is without a doubt, one of the most important moments in all of Jinx's development to me. She is seeing Silco because for better or worse she views him as a father figure. He has become the lens through which she at least partially views the world.

Remember this?:

When Vi was hurt, and alone , and wanted so badly to give up it was Vander she saw and heard in her mind. So as Jinx is processing this revelation, that she doesn't want to keep being this person anymore. She doesn't want to keep killing, to keep running in circles, to be a revolutionary or a terrorist anymore and she just wants it all to stop this conversation is how her mind does this.

Take away Silco from this moment and what are we left with: Jinx realizing that the only way for the horror to end is to walk away.

Let the message come from Silco in its way: Jinx's mind freeing itself of Silco's influence and what she feels she owes him because he is telling her it's okay to walk away.

CONCLUSION:

In this moment, Jinx is essentially, giving herself permission to turn away from the pain and death of her history. Away from the guilt of who she has been and even away from the corrupting tendrils of Silco's legacy. She applies this same lesson to what she does with Vi, giving Vi permission to start living for herself again and stop dwelling on the pain of their past.

Now of course, what she does with Vi is based in love, and right now she has come to believe that she herself is not worthy of said love. There is no good version of her in her mind. And thankfully she is able to be pulled out of that darkness by Ekko. But what we are seeing here regardless of her plans, is the clarity to realize that as long as she and Vi stay shackled to their pain, it will just keep repeating over and over.

Thank you for reading, have a a great day!

**Y'all I know I repeat this every time but I think it's important. So much of Jinx's story is impacted by her mental health especially the state she is in during this part of her story. I AM NOT in any way, shape, or form a mental health professional. I am just a fan doing my best to understand what I think is one of the best stories and one of it's best characters in my lifetime. Thank you**

#arcane #arcane season 2 spoilers #vi arcane #jinx arcane #vi and jinx #powder #silco and powder #arcane silco #silco and jinx

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dadsbongos · 7 months ago

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Idk if u do anon requests given ur rules but I am a scared lil guy when it comes to sending ppl asks. I know you don't need to feel obligated to write it, but I wanted to share my silly little musings with someone at least, if you don't mind ^^

My brain doesn't want to shut up about the idea of a monster reader akin to Anansi's goatman joining the Touden party with malintent, only to be intimidated out of their plans by the fact the party constantly eats monsters. Despite them wanting to run, they're stuck there because the party will realize they've been infiltrated and probably eat them like all the other monsters if they find out.

i absolutely love anon requests! they are so lovely to receive i just kind of write depending on my current interest at the moment

3.4 k words / warnings - gore right off the bat, reader goes through psychological horror at the hands of laios touden, laios forcing the party into extreme situations

summary - that time laios domesticated a monster and everyone was mad at him. ~~~

You’re starving. You’re parched. You’re dizzy.

A woman is screaming in the corner, her eyes bulging from her head and hands clamped over her gaping mouth. Knees wobbling before she collapses to the ground, palms scraping against the floor in a final ditch effort to save herself. She screams louder when your head slowly rolls -- slanted eyes still on her frantic form.

Long fingers scoop from the bowl of a half-foot’s gut, you cup shreds of meat and stringing firm, warm innards to your mouth while maintaining focus on the woman.

No matter how much you eat, you’re starving. No matter what you drink, you’re parched.

The only solace you find in hearty meals is that the pressurized ache behind your skull fades, and with it goes the dazed sensation. You can walk firm and tall. You can stretch out and speak.

You can speak, “Come… here…”

She freezes. Wide eyes scrambling over you. Chest twitching with hyperventilation, “We gave you the half-foot! What else do you want?!”

Swallowing chunks of gummy flesh trapped in your teeth, you speak again, “Come… Now… Come…”

“No, please,” she whimpers, snot and tears dripping, “Please, please, please!”

She rocks onto her back, tumbling around to her feet and sprawling for a weapon. She finds one the big man used, she holds it up and her arms shake under the weight. She doesn’t pose a real threat that way -- she hadn’t lifted a finger to help the group fight.

Rising onto two feet, you tower over her and reach out, cupping her face with both hands. Thumbing the fat on her cheeks and pulling her ears, you croak,

“Mine…”

. . .

A red dragon used to plague this floor, you don’t hear him anymore. You feel confident to venture from your cave for more meal.

Recently, the hunger has gotten so bad you’ve begun drooling over yourself. Despite not caring for your appearance, the feeling is bothersome. The sensation of saliva-matted fur around your muzzle reminds you of the vacancy in your stomach.

Bravely creeping from the lulling warmth of your cavern, you come into the open grass and watch dire wolves nose at Barometz stalks. Unripe, ruby fruits shine under leaking light from higher places. Gold bounces off the fur of ripened fruits. You’re sure they’ll be harvested soon. Your only derision with unripe Barometz fruits is the smaller lamb. Even then, you cannot complain when the wolves more than make up for a lack of meat.

Just as you set to slide down the mossy wall, a red blur hastens toward the middle of the field. Large, pointed black ears twitch which gives you pause. The pale skin you can make out and thick cloth stresses to you that it's a human, but those ears and the hunched posture tell otherwise. Either way, it will have meat.

A man approaches, rushing behind the red blur, his tin shell clinks as he runs. He’s yelling. He can speak.

Long, gold hair and blue furs run after him -- two more men after the blonde woman. A group. A group made of thick bodies, sans the weird-looking red one and the child. No matter, they can fill your shriveled intestine while you divy the thick ones.

Or perhaps just the stout one could fill you. His broad frame is swollen with muscle and he looks well-kept: strong and lively.

Just the thought of cinching his fat thigh makes you swallow another well of spittle. As the wolves close in, the red and blue ones cut from the group, and you merely watch. Dead meat is still meat. If one party kills the other then all you have to do is interfere before they start eating their game.

The tin man gets low, on all fours, before yelping and barking like a rabid beast. He snarls and flails -- startling away the few wolves straggling behind.

After robing, you slide down the crag only to hiss as jagged rocks snag new skin. Spending so much time in your natural form makes the transition to a new face that much more difficult to acclimate to.

You’d lick up the thin blood trails if the three remaining bodies weren’t now gazing at you in shock.

The furthest away, the brown-headed child, scowls at your very presence. While the tin man seems to be fighting back an eager approach.

“Who are you?” the child bites from the back of the pack, eyes narrow and harsh.

An axe’s glint draws your attention to the stocky one. He’s raised his weapon against you.

Flashing yourself a downward glance, you confirm you’re in a human form. Are humans more distrusting the lower they venture?

You open your mouth, then think better of it, pointing to your throat and shaking your head.

“Mute, huh?” again, the child speaks before casting the tin man a look. His instant deferral makes you wonder if the tall one is the leader. Then the child looks to the short one, “Senshi…”

If that’s a secret code among them, you cannot make it out.

What do you look like?

Who did you last steal?

You mask another cursory study of yourself as a frustrated huff and sniffle -- the woman. The healer woman. These all seem to be men, and men are usually softer when you take the form of a woman.

You sniffle louder, frowning and covering your face.

“Ah,” the child stumbles back, “Senshi!”

“What?” the short one gruffs. So that must be its name, not a code.

“Do something!”

“Did you lose your party?” the tin man approaches instead of ‘Senshi’. His face is gentle, nothing but patience written in the low lid of his eyes.

Pathetically, you nod.

“Laios!” the child hisses. Is that another name?

“I’m Laios,” the tin man instantly confirms, then gesturing toward the child, “That’s Chilchuck. And this is Senshi,” his brows draw, “How’d you get down here by yourself?”

How did you meet this woman?

Wiping away cold blotches in your waterline, you point upwards before dramatically slamming the hand downward.

“You fell?” Chilchuck sounds suspicious.

Oh, well. Womanly charms (tears) can’t work on kids, you suppose.

“It’s possible,” Laios defends.

“If there was a faster way to get us down here, don’t you think I would’ve taken us through there?”

The pair glare at each other with Senshi a silent third party, though his axe remains raised. Abruptly, a sickening growl cracks through the air. Borderline blood curdling in the low, raw gurgle seeping from your stomach.

Manufacturing embarrassment, you cup the pouch of your tummy and shake your head apologetically.

“Are you hungry?” Laios asks redundantly, then offers a hand. His smile is just as soft as it had been moments ago, but something about its serenity ignites your brain.

A tingle races down your spine. Breath sputtering a moment and guts coiling unpleasantly. You can feel sweat bead your forehead regardless of the chilly breeze.

You haven’t felt like this since you first opened your goopy eyes to the dungeon’s lower levels. Like he’s about to spear you through the chest. Like he’s twice your size.

Blinking free from your stupor, you nod clumsily and take his hand. It's warm. Yours is clammy.

“Is this a good idea…?” Chilchuck looks up at Senshi, wringing his hands.

Before you can properly hear Senshi’s response, Laios is already pulling you towards the cavern that red blur darted out of. He climbs in first and pulls you in -- Senshi politely avoids looking up while following after. You sit between Laios and Chilchuck in the cavern, watching Laios’ hands skim over the large, unripe Barowitz. Without considering the action, you find yourself licking your lips as he leans his face against the fruit. His cheek puffing out.

Suddenly, his gaze is honed on you again, “As soon as Marcille and Izutsumi are back, we can start eating.”

You nod excitedly. Once the other two are back, you can release and consume. A group of five is sure to satiate you at long last. You’ve never seen such a large collection of bodies. You won’t ever have to eat again after this meal.

Your excitement is tempered when you catch a glimpse of Chilchuck in your peripherals.

Child. A child is down here?

Don’t humans usually put the lives of their young before their own?

You point at Chilchuck, hoping the child will relax once you demonstrate some maternal instinct. Mothers want their kids to eat, right? It sounds right. Your maker always watched you eat before diving in Himself.

“Chilchuck?” Laios murmurs, “What about him?”

Instinctually, your mouth opens again, only to clack shut again. You tap your lips then point to him again. Then you drag a finger through the smatter of dirt and dust along the cold floor. A risky move to write, but you’ve practiced well enough to pass.

EAT FIRST

Laios raises a brow at you, “Why would he eat first?”

CHILD

Laios smiles wider than even before.

Chilchuck scoffs, an overt anger filling his tone, “I’m not a child! How ignorant are you?!”

Oh, no. No, no, no.

Is he just a very short human like Senshi? But how is he so slight? How are his ears so big?

What is he?

Before any response can form from any person in the tunnel, the blue and red ones creep out from the darkness. Laios stands and approaches the pair. Blonde woman, the variety that has pointy ears -- you’ve seen lots of them down here -- continuously glances at you. She murmurs to Laios while the red one is leaning against her.

It stands on its hinds like a human, it groans like a human, it looks like a human sans the tail hanging between its legs and ears pointing upward. It's skinny, whatever it is. It was fast, looks like it has a useful face to steal.

You watch the group jabber amongst themselves, with the woman heatedly berating her fellow man for taking you in. Despite her harsh words, Laios’ face never falls: whether he’s truly so forgiving or just thrives off negative attention you’re unsure.

“I just have a good feeling,” his eyes pierce through you, and that tickle up your spine returns.

“Oh, good,” she grumbles.

“In any case, we’re all hungry,” at the prompt, Senshi moves towards the Barometz and steadies a hand against it, “I wanted to harvest a Barometz, but all the ripe ones were taken by dire wolves.”

Senshi punctures the fruit’s skin with a blade, cutting along the circumference, “Let’s see if we can cook it.”

Once halved, the side not supported by Senshi’s hand slips open with the premature lamb limply collapsing to the floor. Gelatinous bones jiggling against rock.

The thing with fur leans forward, “There’s a little sheep in the vegetable!”

“Aah! I can’t!” blue one grimaces, covering her face while Chilchuck gags, “For completely different ethical reasons, I refuse!”

You quirk a brow at her interjection -- food is food, no? They can dole out the fruit and get plump before you finally soothe your own aching gut. You’re almost tempted to rip back tight, uncomfortable skin and end the woman’s misery when Senshi’s voice calls to you.

“First cut up the Barometz ribs into whatever size proportion you want. Season them, sear them, add wine over top, cover the pan, and then braise them,” you watch as he casually defiles a creature he cannot understand, sizzling it and burning away faux fats.

You’ve never seen humans that bite back.

No matter how harmless a Barometz is, you’re in shock to see him searing up what is technically a monster.

“Next, boil the remainder of the fruit, peel off the skin, and cut it into chunks. Add some garlic and simmer it all together. With the sauce finished, you take that, pour it over the meat and… it’s ready!”

Barometz Balut.

“This helping’s yours, cat girl. Go on, take it.”

“What’s all the weird-looking stuff?”

While Senshi and ‘cat girl’ are locked in a debate, the man hands the woman in blue a serving as well. Her lips are stretched downward, her brows knotted towards the center of her forehead.

“Come on, Marcille, you’ve eaten Harpy eggs before. This should be easy!”

Harpy… eggs. Their young? What benefit does a Harpy egg provide? There is no meat. To eat that is to consume a beast simply because they can.

“That was out of desperation! I didn’t like them!”

She consumes despite it being unfulfilling? That, truly, is eating solely to prove it possible.

Your hands shake at your sides at the thought.

“That’s not true,” Laios denies.

“Okay, fine, they were… ugh. They were fine!”

“It’s okay, we all liked them. I think my favorite has been the red dragon, though,” Laios is positively beaming at you now.

The red dragon. He’s why the field’s warden has gone missing. Your shock is not lost on any of the group.

When your horror is evident, Chilchuck and the woman -Marcille- shoot forward while waving their hands around. As if to physically bat away any unsavory accusations.

“It was seasoned and cut up!” Chilchuck shouts, “We didn’t even eat all of it!”

Marcille nods rapidly, clutching the wood slat of food to her chest, “Yeah, we only had a little bit compared to how big it was!”

They scavenge the young and waste a beast as magnificent as the red dragon?

“We ate it because it ate my sister,” he’s still smiling.

A raucous chorus of his name is shrieked in protest.

Your breathing spikes, now certainly slick with sweat and chest thudding -- forget finally ending your hunger with them, how could they squander the red dragon? How could they still starve after eating such a large monster? Your palms find the floor, eyes flicking to the opening of the cavern.

When your gaze returns, Laios is staring at you. Wide amber eyes melting through your facade -- he knows, he must. How long has he known? Why not kill you as soon as he figured it out? Why lure you in?

The red one -Izutsumi- tilts its head at you, nose twitching. It smells the influx of sweat and dread.

You shoot up, opening your mouth for a husky growl, “Away… get… away…”

“I knew it!” Laios stands, “Oh, wow, I thought goatmen were extinct!”

He’s going to slice you open and they’ll eat you for fun. They won’t finish you. They’ll leave you for your maker to find.

“Goatman?!” Chilchuck wails, “You invited a goatman into the party?! Laios, I could strangle you!”

He’d kill his own ally?!

“So cool, though, and so far pretty harmless. I’ve heard they can be domesticated by feeding them brains every now and again.”

“Brain…” you shiver, flailing back into the wall, “No… Brain… No…”

Laios turns to Senshi with a preppy little smile, “It’s not an exact match, but the Barometz has something akin to a brain.”

These things are demons. No wonder your maker wants to devour them all.

Why eat a brain? You’d have to destroy the skull for that, and you need to keep the skull intact to steal a human’s face.

Senshi shrugs and hacks open the lamb’s skull with a loud crack, making you flinch back and yelp.

“First, chop the brain into four parts, season with olive oil and sprouts. Roll the brains in egg and wrap with bread. Normally you’d use crumbs or flour, but we’ll have to make due. Then fry in the pan with more oil over medium heat until…”

Laios snatches the brains from Senshi to shove onto your lap,

“It’s ready!”

FRIED LAMB BRAINS.

Senshi watches you carefully from beneath the shadow of his helmet. Meanwhile Marcille and Izutsumi are poised to attack with Chilchuck lingering in the very back. Those three are only additional to the presence of Laios, who looms above you with sword in hand. Eyes fiery with exhilaration, though he’s visibly ready to cut you down should you try escaping.

Your stomach echoes through the cavern. Drool pools and oozes through the gaps in your teeth, it smells good. So, with truly no other choice, you bring the fried brains to your mouth.

Oddly sweet, the juices are warm and electric on your tongue. You let out a soft hum and shovel more of the brains back. Again, you hum. You tip the wood slat and scoop all the meat down your gullet, licking the excess juices up and even sweeping crumbs into your mouth.

By the time your meal was picked clean, you felt something entirely new.

“Full…” you look up in amazement, wide eyed at Laios, “Full…”

A small hand cracks against Laios’ silver back, Chilchuck shouting in sharp, throaty tones that are completely unfamiliar to you. Laios frowns and murmurs about being sworn out in a foreign tongue.

Then Izutsumi yanks away, whipping her head back and forth, “Reeks in here!”

Chilchuck points at you, though is still glaring up at Laios, “And it smells!”

“Goatmen smell like goats,” Laios frowns.

Marcille hesitantly hangs a loose, thin blanket in front of you -- it takes you a moment to realize human skin is peeling off you in chunks. The faint scent of copper growing into a heavy, rotten stench of open carcass as you shed the woman’s skin. You’ve never prematurely ejected before. Normally, once you wear a person’s face you’re stuck there until it withers. Or you peel it off.

The smell gets so bad that Chilchuck and Izutsumi huff and storm to a neighboring hole in the cliff’s rockface. Marcille has to press her nose into the crook of her elbow, the sheet shaking as you stretch free from the woman’s body.

Unbeknownst to you, there is a silent battle between Marcille and Senshi. Until Laios, of course, breaks it.

“Why are you two glaring at each other?”

You rise to a stand, watching Marcille cast you a set of distrusting eyes before seething, “What should we do about it?”

“It ain’t doing anything wrong.”

“It’s a monster!” she turns suddenly towards Laios, “Didn’t you say all monsters are dangerous?!”

“They are,” Laios reaches towards his sword, squeezing the hilt and eyes sunken to the floor, “but it’s not like we were in real danger. Goatmen are pretty harmless in human forms.”

Marcille makes a startled groan behind clenched teeth, hands jerking out towards you.

“Fed goatmen are completely docile,” Laios reasons, “They only kill to eat. They’re more like an animal than a traditional monster.”

“So how do we know it won’t kill us when it gets hungry again?!”

Laios’ eyes seem to burst alight with stars, “Because we’ve fed it already! Before they were endangered some people would go down into dungeons just to domesticate and breed them for the surface. Once you prove yourself formidable and trustworthy, they’re pretty unwilling to try fighting you.”

“It can talk,” Senshi adds, “We can’t kill it just because.”

Marcille’s face goes red, a frustrated sigh leaving her lips, “It barely talks.”

You were taught words by your maker. He speaks with more clarity and ease than you do.

“It still talks,” Senshi doesn’t budge, “It ain't attacking either.”

For a moment, you contemplate killing these people.

Immediately, you’re repulsed by the mere thought. To see their soft faces and warm bodies torn open and to be smeared with their insides is so undesirable you heave. Brain rushing up your throat before you can swallow it down.

“Marcille live,” you caw, the woman looks up at you and you repeat yourself at her blank stare thinking she misunderstood you, “Want Marcille… alive…”

“Aw,” her coo is uneven, lips twitching in a way that, if you were better at reading people, would make you think she doesn’t trust you, “That’s actually kind of… nice?”

“I read they were loyal but I didn’t think the bonding process was so fast,” Laios marvels. Reaching out to lay a hand against your snout, he beams -- this has been a close second beast he’s dreamt of meeting. Number one still being a minotaur.

He’d been content to keep this interaction a daydream, since goatmen were thought extinct -- but look at you! Never had he thought something mythed to descend from demons could be so docile, and so…

“So cool…” Laios is boiling over with pure ecstasy as you tip your head down to fit more comfortably into his palm.

Senshi gathers the group’s remaining bags and announces he’ll re-settle camp with Chilchuck and Izutsumi. Although there’s a bonus pep in his step as he ponders jotting this whole day in his journal.

#laios touden x reader #marcille donato x reader #chilchuck tims x reader #senshi x reader #delicious in dungeon x reader #dungeon meshi x reader #laios x reader #dunmeshi.🍈#nonny.reqs.🥝

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thechekhov · 1 year ago

Text

Dungeon Meshi Quick Reacts: CH45

Slumber party!

Fair, but consider: She deserves a little murder. As a treat.

Kabru be like "IS THAT MY BACKSTORY???"

That sure is....a ship. With no one on it.

Ah, shit the Americans are here.

Two things: Toshiro being tended to like a pretty pretty princess is hilarious.

And also, the fact that they think the elves can kill Falin......... hmmm.... Pressing X to doubt.

............... oh. Laios. 😂

But also like. How was he MEANT to keep it silent? Put a little something in it? I thought since it was a magic bell you could code it to only ring when it's shaken with INTENT?

Fancy ass house.

Also, Namari...........are you hitting that yet? Both of that?

Oh, it's backstory time.

Okay one: that's fucking tragic, it sounds like the Elves are just forcing the dungeons closed with no regard for how the ecosystem compensates and what people suffer by being in close proximity......

And another thing: Kabru. Kabru, isn't that what YOU'RE after? Having all the power?

Why is this so much like that one meme where the girls at the party are looking at you.

It's the same picture.

Kabru that's. That's maybe not the way to go about it. you're going to give them MORE reasons to go in.

Nevermind the governor not being into this 'good boy, now sign' talk, Toshiro's kinda right. Ya fucked up Kabru.

No matter how far Laios runs, he cannot escape other people trying to tell him how to live his life. Poor guy. But at the same time...

Is this real? Or a red herring?

Laios' father and mother seemed to be living relatively pious lives. They clearly had a good house, but it didn't seem like they were extremely rich. Then again, perhaps he's just a cousin of royalty? Is that why his parents wanted him to have children?

They want to.... halt the growth of the dungeon? Is this another part of the natural ecosystem of things? Dungeons growing seems to point even more towards the idea that it's a gigantic, fleshpit-like creature instead of simply a construct.

Then again, constructs CAN be creatures. Like the golems.

Elves not understanding how old humans are continues to be hilarious because like.

As humans, we HAVE this same concept of variant aging. Like. Dogs. We understand that dogs live less than us, and mature a lot slower. But this is.... COMMON KNOWLEDGE. Most people do not make it into adulthood without understanding that dogs mature within 1-2 years of their birth.

The fact that elves, a species with FAR more time on their hands, who have lived alongside other races for AGES....... have STILL not got the general concept of aging down....means their education is atrocious. Or they're all not paying attention.

.......this. THIS is the most fascinating concept in this chapter.

The fallen.... turned into MONSTERS.

We know that dying inside the dungeon doesn't mean permanent death. But dying above-ground does.

We know that dying in the dungeon doesn't mean your body turns into a monster (aside from ghosts and ghouls?) ..... but dying aboveground.... DOES......?

WHAT'S THE TRUTH.

👁👁

Hm.

If Kabru and Laios fused, they could almost make one functioning human being.

Senshi just beginning to speak in the middle of his own internal monologue is so real.

...... what's going on there with the expression, buddy?

Bread.......are they STILL carrying around flour with them?! How are they getting bread?!

Also, it's awesome that the eggs are canonically hard to crack, because it makes sense that they don't break during their many fighting events.

Izutsumi really said ◉_◉

Don't tell me Laios, who is sensitive to ghosts has ALSO been seeing things?

Not gonna lie, that's highkey terrifying.

Props to that ghost that's been following Laios around, not ever giving up hope that it can bother him into acknowledging it.

And also - hey, it already saved them once! that means it's probably not evil!

That, or it's the king of the bloody dungeon. Wouldn't that be something!

#dungeon meshi #dungeon meshi quick reacts #dungeon meshi liveblog #chekhov reads dungeon meshi

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darkbluekies · 2 years ago

Text

The witty and uncanny

Doctor!yandere OC x reader x Mafia!yandere OC

Summary: After escaping Silas, you wake up at the hospital with a doctor who hasn't been able to stop thinking about you. And now, you have two to escape from ... at the same time.

Warnings: yandere, needles, gun + gunshot, blood, fighting, getting drugged, unhealthy relationships, jealousy, scalpels, a lot of drama

word count: 3.2k

Part 2

A bright light stings in your eyes as you pry them open. You whimper slightly at all the different pains in your body. You're lying in a bed, but it's not very comfortable.

"Oh, you're awake", an unfamiliar voice says. "I started to get worried."

A blurry shadow appears in front of your eyes. You blink a few times until you see the outline of a blonde man.

"How are you?" he asks softly.

You open your mouth to answer, but it's drier than a desert. The man puts a plastic cup to your lips and you sip a few mouthfuls of water.

"There we go, good job", he smiles. "Now, how are you?"

"Where am I?" you whisper.

"At the hospital. Do you remember anything?"

"I …"

You stay silent as you look at the doctor. Don't you recognize him?

"Have we met before?" you ask quietly.

"The two of us?" he repeats. "Yes, we have. I cared for you a year ago when you came to check up on your sore throat. I'm doctor Kry."

"Oh, right … I remember."

A few seconds of silence occur as you try to remember last year. Everything feels so blurry after Silas took you.

"Now I'll ask again: how are you?" the man asks.

"I'm hurting", you admit.

"Nothing is broken, I can assure you of that. Can you tell me what happened?"

"Silas, he- …" Shit. You shouldn't have said anything.

Dr Kry grows increasingly stiffer hearing the other man's name.

"Silas? Who's that? Your boyfriend?"

"No."

At least you don't think so. You never agreed to become Silas’s partner … or his prisoner for that matter.

"That's relieving to hear", Dr Kry smiles slightly and brushes the hair out of your face. "Can you tell me what happened? I won't tell anyone. I have to stay silent by law."

You gulp. You had escaped Silas during a mission of his. He'd brought you with him for who knows what reason and you managed to run while he wasn't looking. When he noticed that you were gone, you had to throw yourself down a cliff to get out of his reach. Landing in the water, you had no other choice but to swim to shore and then run for your life. You had been running for hours until exhaustion took over you. You fainted in a park. Now you're here.

You give the doctor a brief explanation, leaving out most of the information about Silas and his job.

"Why were you running from him?" Dr Kry asks suspiciously. "Did he hurt you?"

You nod. When you close your eyes you can see the basement's stone walls in front of you.

"Don't worry, Y/N, you won't get hurt ever again", Dr Kry promises. "You're safe with me now, okay?"

You shake your head quickly. You'll never be free from Silas! He's insane! He'll burn down the hospital once he finds you.

"Calm down, dear", Dr Kry smiles. "You're safe, I promise. This hospital has fantastic security. You wouldn't be able to break out from here even if you tried to."

You nod carefully, deciding to try to calm down. After all, you haven’t gotten the slightest bit of relaxation after Silas stole you away from your life. Resting now might be crucial in case Silas decides to find you again. Otherwise you might be too vulnerable for Silas's harsh manipulation. You won’t survive the basement if you’re not rested up.

Dr Kry sits with you as you sleep, watching over you. He goes through some papers, reading through your journals.

“Oh, my dear Y/N”, he whispers for himself, flipping pages, knowing full well you cannot hear him. “Finally you’re back with me.”

A while later, there’s a knock at the door. Dr Kry frowns and walks over to open. WHat he’s met with takes him by surprise. A black haired man with a long coat and a gun in his hand.

“Where are they?” he hisses.

Dr Kry looks at the gun with a glare and clenches his jaw.

“You must be Silas”, he says warningly, still sounding calm.

“Back away”, Silas says darkly, pointing with the gun. “Go to your desk.”

Dr Kry backs away slowly, refusing to look away from Silas. Silas notices your sleeping form in the bed, breathing out in relief.

“Y/N!” he says. “Little thing, wake up.”

“Don’t”, Dr Kry says quickly. “They just fell asleep. If you wake them up I’ll call for security and you’ll leave this hospital in pieces.”

Silas scoffs as one side of his mouth pulls up. “I’m the one with the gun here. I make the rules, okay, doc?”

“This is my territory that you’ve trespassed on. Here, I’m in charge.”

Silas glances at your sleeping form, at the bruises on your skin and the IV-drop next to your bed.

“What have you done to them?” he growls.

“What have I done?” Dr Kry repeats in shock. “They were worse when I took them in! What you see there, you have caused when they were running from you.”

Silas pushes Dr Kry up against the wall, knocking some of the air out of his lungs. The black haired man is a tad bit taller than him, but he isn’t feeling threatened. He’s furious. This man has caused you harm. He needs to be taken care of before you wake up. Dr Kry can’t let you see any of his bad sides. Silas puts the gun against Dr Kry’s temple.

“If you’re so stupid to kill me here, you better find another doctor to care for your ‘little thing’”, Dr Kry says, mocking Silas’s nickname for you.

Silas gives the doctor a nasty look and lets him go harshly. He’s about to walk over to you, but Dr Kry storms after, grabbing his arm.

“Don’t even think about moving them”, he warns Silas. “They’re hurt thanks to you. They need to heal up!”

“I will get them everything they need”, Silas mutters.

“Yeah, sure. Since when do you know how to use medical equipment? Smallest misstep and you’ll harm them. I’m not going to let you do anything that could worsen their condition.”

Silas gulps and looks around, hate still clear in his eyes, but now also a bit of worry.

“Fine”, he mutters. “I guess I’ll let them stay here until they’re better.”

Dr Kry smiles inside. Oh, you’ll never get better.

By now, you open your eyes after all the sound the two men have caused. Your gasp alerts the two of them, turning both their heads towards you. Your eyes are stuck on Silas with fear glowing in them.

“N-No-”, you almost sob.

“Don’t cry, little thing”, Silas says and pushes Dr Kry out of the way. “Come here-”

“No! Don’t touch me!”

Your scream hurts Dr Kry’s ears. He grabs Silas’s shoulders and forces him away from you, standing in between him and you as a shield. Silas is about to throw himself at the doctor when he sees how you hide behind him.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” he spits. “Y/N is mine! If I want to touch my baby, I have all the damn right to do so!”

“You forget that this is my territory”, Dr Kry warns him calmly , taking your hand. “I decide who touches my patients or not and right now, I’m the only one allowed to.”

“Oh, you’re so full of shit. Let go of their fucking hand right now.”

"Or what? You're going to shoot me? We've been through this already. If you shoot me you don't have anyone else to care for them. Is that what you want?"

"I'll find someone else."

"Then are you really going to put Y/N through this? If you shoot me, my blood will splatter on them. Try manipulating them to like you after that."

"You piece of shit-"

Silas is about to attack him, but Dr Kry picks up a scalpel and holds it in front of him.

"If you have to be here, be of use and sit down", the doctor sighs and rolls his eyes. "And be quiet. You're scaring Y/N."

You've curled up on the bed to protect your fragile body from Silas’s wrath. The man with the gun sighs heavily.

"This is fucking ridiculous", he mutters and sinks down in the chair in the corner of the room. "Why am I listening to you?"

Dr Kry smiles slightly and holds a cup of water to your lips. You choke on it thanks to the stress of having Silas in the room. You're waiting for him to have had enough and get rid of your doctor. He's the only form of protection you have.

"Breathe", Dr Kry whispers. "Don't look at him."

"What are you saying to them?" Silas asks quickly, suspiciously.

"Nothing. Instead of trying to eavesdrop, go to the vending machine on the floor below and get your 'little thing' something to eat."

"Why should I? You're the doctor!"

"Exactly. I'm the doctor. I have to stay with the patient at all costs."

"You fucking asshole."

"Y/N hasn't been eaten once since they came here."

Silas growls and stands up. He gives you one warning gaze before rushing out. Doctor Kry waits a few seconds before hurrying over to the other side of the bed, carefully removing the needle out of your arm. He places his arms under your body, carefully lifting you up.

"W-What are you doing?" you gasp.

"Getting you away from here. I'm going to take care of that man, but in that case, I can't have you close."

Dr Kry carries you out of the room, glancing at the ends of the corridor before running to the elevator.

"You don't understand!" you almost sib. "Silas will kill if you do this! He's insane, h-he'll-"

"So am I."

"What?"

A shiver runs down your spine.

"I don't like to admit it, but I do have some scary thoughts too sometimes", Dr Kry says disappointingly. "Don't worry, I will take care of that man. Afterwards, you and I can go back to being together. I won't let anything hurt you."

You shake your head slowly, realization hitting you. No, this can't be it …

"You sound like him …", you whisper quietly. "You sound like Silas …"

"No, I don't."

"L-Let me down."

"I can't. You're not well enough to walk by yourself. I have to protect you."

Dr Kry leaves the elevator and steps out into a dimly lit cemented corridor. You must be far below ground.

"He won't find you here", Dr Kry says.

His voice makes you shiver.

"Let me go", you whine and start to fight against his strong embrace. "Let me go! I'm going to scream."

"Scream all you want, Y/N, but I'd be surprised if anyone could hear you down here."

He opens a door into a white experiment cell. You shake your head desperately. This reminds you too much of the basement. The only thing in the room is a wall made of a mirror, a table and a chair. Dr Kry lets you down in the chair and walks towards the door. You hurry up and try to run past him, but he captures your arm and pulls you back.

"Don't tire yourself out, sweetheart", he says. "You won't get well that way."

"I threw myself off a fucking cliff! A little running won't do anything to me!"

Dr Kry manages to pry your arm off him and push you into the room before going out and locking the door. You pound the door with your fists, screaming. Dr Kry gulps and makes his way back to the elevator. You're safe here, he reassures himself.

Silas makes his way back to your room with a burning rage in his heart and a protein bar in his hand. That doctor has a storm coming for him. Silas is going to hang him upside down until the blood suffocates his brain. And he'll watch it all with a bowl of popcorn in his hands. And you? One thing's for sure: you're never coming with him for a mission ever again. He can't believe that you did all of this to get rid of him.

"I seriously need to get a couple therapist", he mutters to himself and reaches for the door handle into the room.

Before he touches it, he stops. Something’s wrong. He swings it open and finds it empty. You’re not in the bed and the doctor is nowhere to be seen. Silas takes out his gun from his coat again.

“I’m going to fucking kill you”, he promises.

“How funny, because I was thinking the same thing”, a voice behind him says, catching him by surprise.

Silas turns around to see Dr Kry putting on white gloves. Silas turns his gun towards him. Dr Kry scoffs out a low chuckle.

“But the difference between our deaths is that yours will be quiet and quick”, he says, taking up a needle from his pocket and testing the spurt. “No one will know if you’ve left the hospital or not.” He nods at the weapon in his hand. “One shot with the gun and everyone will know that something has happened to me. You won’t get away with it.”

“You’re wrong, I’ve gotten away with a lot of things. This will be nothing out of the ordinary.”

“You sure do a lot of talking for someone with a gun in their hands.”

“Well, I can’t fucking kill you before you tell me where the fuck Y/N is. Now spit it out. I’m sick of this!”

“Why should I tell you? You’re clearly only causing them harm.”

Silas growls and throws himself at Dr Kry, not being able to control himself anymore. The doctor gets knocked to the floor. Just as Silas is about to start punching him, the doctor stabs him in the arm with the needle. Silas is quick to get off him and rip it out.

"W-What the fuck was that?" he asks quickly.

"Something to make you sleep", Dr Kry smirks from the floor, still lying on his back but now propped up by his elbows.

Shit. Silas looks around for something. He grabs a stapler on top of the desk and slams it into Dr Kry’s head, knocking him unconscious. He starts rummaging through his pockets until he finds a key. 'Laboratory 2', it says on a small label.

"Where the fuck is that?" he pants. "Hey doc- … nevermind."

He hurries out into the corridor. He's not sure if the exhaustion he feels is from the needle or if it is from his imagination. All he knows is that he has to find you before he falls unconscious on the floor.

Silas finds a floorplan over the hospital. His finger follows the illustration lazily. Damn it, stay conscious. Silas finds the laboratory three floors underground. He drags himself over to the elevators and presses the right button. His body is growing more and more tired, eyes wanting to shut. The image of Dr Kry appears in his brain and he grimaced. He has to continue. The doctor seems to want you for himself too. Over Silas's dead body.

Silas steps out of the elevator and looks around in this new, dimly lit corridor. The walls are made out of concrete. It reminds him of the basement. His vision starts to fail him. He's seeing double. But nonetheless, he finds the right door. He struggles to place the key in the hole now that he can barely see. The click from the lock gives him hope. Inside, he finds you curled up in a corner on the other side of the room, glaring at him.

"Don't be scared, Y/N", he says, voice sounding distant. "I'm not going to hurt you. I've- … I've learned from my mistakes … I'm going … going to …"

"What's wrong with you, Silas?" you ask hesitantly.

"That fucking doctor … he … he stab- … stabbed me with a … uh, with a needle. But that … doesn't … doesn't matter. I'm taking you with me any- … anyway. I'll kill him."

He reaches out for you, but you scurry away from him. His sloppy movements give you time to run past him out into the corridor. The elevator is free! Behind you, you can hear his body hitting the floor. Just as you're about to walk into the elevator, you remember the gun Silas has on him. You could use that.

You give the elevators one last glance before running back to the testing room. You rummage through his pockets, finding the weapon in his coat.

The elevator is occupied now. You swear mentally. You need to get out of here before Dr Kry comes. The elevator stops on your level … and opens. You're met by Dr Kry’s cold eyes. Blood is running down his face from his forehead. His eyes light up as he sees you.

"Y/N!" he gasps in relief. "Thank God! Where's Silas!"

"Unconscious", you mumble, pointing at the open door, "in there."

"Good, good. Let him be. Wait … why do you have his gun?"

"Why do you think so?! To protect myself, of course. It doesn't seem like anyone else is!"

"No, no, you are safe — with me!"

"No. Something’s wrong with you too. I don't like it."

You hold up the gun towards him.

"Y/N, don't be ridiculous, I'm normal!" He says, glancing towards the weapon. "Come now, let's go to bed. You need to heal up. I'll take care of Silas. I saved you, didn't I?"

"I'm not sure. Did you really save me if you're the same?" You hover your finger over the trigger. "Get out of my way."

"Are you really going to shoot me here?"

"You said that no one would hear anything down here. So why shouldn't I?"

Dr Kry clenches his jaw. He looks at something behind you and his eyes widen.

"H-How are you conscious?!"

In horror, you turn before Silas can touch you. To your surprise, it’s empty. You don’t have time to realize what has happened before Dr Kry grabs you from behind and steals the gun out of your hand.

“Now, enough of this”, he says. “Come now, Y/N. We’re wasting time where you could be resting. I really don’t want to use the gun against you, but if you don’t realize what’s best for you, then I have to take drastic measures. Come now, little on, let’s go.”

He leads you into the elevator. The doors close. You glance at the gun with a plan in mind. You sink down the wall with your hand over your throat.

“What’s wrong?” Dr Kry asks quickly. “Aren’t you feeling well?”

“N-No”, you lie while forcing yourself to pant. “I can’t breathe!”

Dr Kry sinks down on his knees in front of you, letting go of the gun and starts to feel around your neck gently. You grab the gun and without a second thought, shoot him in the foot. The doctor screams out in pain and clutches the hurt area.

“Y/N!” he shouts. “What are you doing?!”

“Getting the fuck out of here”, you sigh in stress.

As soon as the doors open, you run without ever looking back. You know that you have a race against the clock. Silas will wake up sometime and Dr Kry won’t let this slide. Whether you like it or not … they’ll be back for you. Their little Y/N.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere drabbles #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere fics #yandere stories #yandere mafia #yandere oc x you #yandere doctor #yandere duo #yandere ocs #yandere oc x reader #yandere oneshot #yandere imagine

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shirefantasies · 8 months ago

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Hiii!!! I love your works so so much, you're truly amazing!! I would like to make a request if that's fine with you. I would like to request Thorin's company with a reader that is afraid of heights. You don't have to do it if you don't want to, it was just a stupid idea that crossed my mind. If you do decide to do it, take as much time as you want and thank you so so much!! Again love your works, your way of writing and the way you portray the characters!!

Thanks pal 🥰 for your kind words and for being one of the longest-standing members of this blog's taglist! It's funny because someone else sent this in for LoTR a while back so it is not at all stupid, quite a common ask~

Warnings: canon typical peril, suggestive jokes in one

Thorin's Company + Your Fear of Heights

Balin

“Look at the river,” Balin encourages, taking your arm, “a fair chance we are not to see it like this again, after all!” You hesitantly hum at his side, and that is when he looks over to see your tightly shut eyes and stiff posture, your hands firm and flat against the great eagle’s soft, downy feathers. “We’re safe now,” he tells you quietly, scooting into your side. The warmth of his coat brings some comfort, but not enough for you to open your eyes, even if they shine red beneath your crushing lids. “This does not feel safe,” you reply, your voice barely exceeding a whisper. Balin does not fight, does not argue, presumably continues enjoying whatever view you did not doubt was beautiful. You simply cannot appreciate it. “I understand,” he replies, running a soothing hand up and down your back, “and I’m here. I’ll hold you down.”

Dwalin

“I bet you’ve never been afraid a day in your life.” Those were the words that set the conversation- or challenge, more like- flying between you and Dwalin, both of you huddled near the smoldering remains of your earlier fire on watch of camp. Hazes of fatigue descended upon both of your heads as you spoke, your musing bringing quite a surprise to Dwalin, who immediately sat up straighter and fixed you with surprise. “Are you mocking me?” “No,” you shrugged, shaking your head, “I simply could not imagine what that would be. It is quite difficult to picture you afraid.” It was your turn to be surprised as Dwalin’s expression softened far beyond what you were used to. “Even the greatest of warriors have them. I, then, am far from an exception.” “What is it, then?” “Pardon.” “Your fear,” you lit up, “is it the ocean? Dogs? Speaking to a crowd?” “Why are you selecting such ridiculous-” “You’re dodging,” you teased, “Thought you might be embarrassed.” “I’m not,” he crossed his arms, “Tell me yours and I shall share mine.” “Fine,” you replied with a shrug, “I am terrified of heights. Fell off a roof as a little one. …long story.” “That… makes a lot of sense.” “Hey, now what is that supposed to mean?”

Thorin

In all honesty, you’d expected the king to have no patience for such matters. You had avoided mentioning your phobia to any of the company for that exact reason, in fact. No more reason given for Thorin to see you as a liability, an outsider. At least until the booms of thunder, the slick of rain and your cold sweat alike as you slid along cliffs, eyes closed and then squeezed so shut your skin warmed and almost burned. Great stone giants you stood upon, legs rising and sending you swinging out wildly, unable to stifle your scream. As the giant slowed, having been struck by a massive rock, you were righted again, and feeling a hand tighten about your shoulder you turned around, expecting to see fatherly Gloin or Balin and instead almost starting at the sight of Thorin there behind you. “I can tell you fear the precipice. Stay here and no harm will come to you.” Your lips parted wordlessly, unable to form a sound beneath the thrum of blood in your ears, the heat creeping to your face, the echo of shattering stone still reverberating through your whole body. As if he heard you regardless, Thorin added, “I promise.”

Oin

“You’re sweating. Do you have a fever?” “No, Oin, I’m fine,” you replied, shaking your head. “Are you certain? For I’ve got quite the concoction- two in fact! One you put on and one you put in. Yourself, that is. You drink it, you see.” “I gathered.” You mustered a smile, but it was halfhearted and, judging by Oin’s expression, obviously so. “No need to be proud. Come on. I’m the one who can help you. And trust me, I’ve seen it all!” Oin was right. A fear of heights was far less embarrassing than all the accidents you imagined dwarves got into. Bofur alone had plenty such stories. “To be honest, it simply is this climb,” you nodded to the foot of the mountain, the great steps you’d heard so much about- and stars, they were nothing like the steps in your old home! “Afraid of heights?” You nodded in reply and the healer’s bearded face burst open in sympathy. “Well, that’s more than understandable! Seen plenty of- Ahem,” he cleared his throat, “Well, that is to say you’re not alone. I’ll let you in on a little secret- from what I hear, it took Kili years before he’d even get on a ladder! ‘N he’s a prince! You’ve nothing to worry about. I can give you something to calm you down as we speak, and beside that I can stay by you every step of the way. How’s that?” “That’ll be great,” you smile, “Thank you, Oin.”

Gloin

“What d’you think you’re doing? …Rotation my arse, send someone else if you’d like to avoid discussing this with the business end of my axe!” What was going on? Emerging from the brush, you followed the sound of Gloin’s voice, the volume of which had steadily been increasing, to see him glaring with all intents of intimidation at Dwalin of all people. As much as you knew you should step in and resolve any tension, you couldn’t deny your amusement. Kindling in arm, you shook your head fondly at the scene before you. Ever since he found out you were afraid of heights, rather than mock you as you’d half expected the dwarves to Gloin had made it his personal mission to swoop in and lobby for you whenever the opportunity availed itself. Such as climbing trees for watch. Muttering, Dwalin walked away with a shrug and a roll of his eyes, and you took your own opportunity to set the kindling down and sneak up behind Gloin to pull him into a hug.

Bifur

Snapping jaws narrowly missed the edges of your legs. Wargs ran to the feet of the trees, standing against the trunks and trying in vain to pull you down. They were coming closer than they should have, though, one even catching a dangling strap from your boot and tearing the buckle on it clean off. Jumping at a tap on your shoulder, you swiveled your head and peered up, admittedly a bit relieved to forget you were above ground, even if it was not by much. Bifur had gotten your attention and was urgently circling his hand, encouraging you to go further up to his branch. You shook your head. “I am fi-” SNAP! The moment you attempted to defend yourself was the moment the branch at your side was ripped off, scrabbling claws following its descent. Another tap to your shoulder, this time with the hand groping down to find yours and pry its fingers from their death grip on your branch. “What are you doing?” You hissed, panicking at your loosening grip, but your complaint was quieted when Bifur yanked you up against his chest and held you there fast. He muttered something in Khuzdul and while you weren’t certain what, his tone alone soothed you a bit more, keeping you in place there with your rapid heartbeat against his.

Bofur

“What’s the matter, no foothold? These hills can be a bit slippery, can’t they? Pesky when it’s so far to fall, pesky indeed.” “Bofur,” you breathe, voice wavering as you near tears. The sheer desperation in your voice shakes the hatted dwarf to his senses, his eyes and smile softening and falling as if seeing you for the first time. “Hey now, you’ll be all right. Thorin put you in the middle on purpose. So many hands here to catch you. ‘Sides that, I’m right here next to you, and you know I’ll always protect you, right?” Smiling faintly, you nod, eyes still blurred faintly with the sheen of tears. Strength renewed slightly, your hands dig even tighter into the rough stone and with all your might, you pull up to the next ledge. “See, there you are! Before we know it you’ll be outclimbing us all,” Bofur teases, leaning over and gently bumping your shoulder with his. “Bofur!” You squeal. “Oh, yes, right, sorry! Say, why don’t we just talk about the weather instead?”

Bombur

“I can’t.” “You must,” Bombur insisted, always-gentle voice even quieter than usual. Groaning beneath the weight of your bodies, the great pine you’d been forced to climb bent further. “If we don’t, who knows what’ll happen to us. I’m scared, too.” The shocks running through your heart calmed slightly at the sight of his soft eyes. “Who wouldn’t be scared of jumping off a cliff?” “Fili ‘n Kili, probably.” “You’re right,” you giggled, delaying the inevitable that much further.” “Why don’t we go together. See, just because we’re both ‘fraidy cats, you know?” Bombur sounded so… shy? He truly meant it, not that you doubted his sincerity much- a more sincere dwarf could scarcely be found. “Of course,” you replied, and beaming, he took your hand. “Just close your eyes. Trust the wizard. You’ll be alright if I have anything to say about it.”

Dori

“Is this truly necessary?” “Unfortunately that is the best way to keep things away from bears. Awful creatures trying to spoil our picnic!” “This is no picnic, Dori,” you giggled, “on account of we’re on a perilous journey? If you remember.” “Yes, yes,” he waved the hand that was free of the bundle, “but I will suffer much before I go this whole mess without doing something for you. Now Bilbo was kind enough to lend this food…” “You lot stole it, didn’t you?” Dori pointedly ignored you. “Be a dear and climb up to that branch with the rope,” he requested, pointing up into the tree and sending a wave of apprehension straight through you. “Can I hold it?” You asked, shuffling your feet. “Please?” Dori inhaled. He frowned slightly. His frown softened almost immediately at your slight pout. His shoulders deflated, hand loosening about the bundle. “Very well. You certainly are lucky to be so adorable.”

Nori

“Come on, let’s have a look at the stars, huh?” Something about Nori’s tone, a sort of provocation you hope to be deciphering correctly, has you shying your eyes away from the smooth-talking dwarf, hands behind your back as you nod. “That’s a good’n,” he smiles proudly, grabbing your hand tightly, a bit harshly even as he tugs you outside. Your gaze drifts up, but Nori tilts it back down to face him. “Not out here!” You are puzzled, tilting your head back at him. Rivendell’s garden is the most beautiful you’ve seen, a perfect little gazebo to sit under surrounded by pure white flowers and vines that reach up to the very stars upon which you wish to gaze. “Elrond can’t mind too much if we get a bit closer, after all, can he? Those elves love the stars as much as anything, after all.” You see now that he is motioning up to the roof of the enclave set aside for you all to stay, a conveniently flat expanse granted access to only by a risky-looking trellis. Nori wants to climb that with you. All the blood drains from your face at the very sight, the mental image of your shoes slipping from the hole, tumbling you back into the… “What’s the matter, hm? Scared? Afraid of getting trapped up there with me? I promise I won’t bite…unless you ask me to, of course.” His joke brings you back to your senses, out of the unexpected tenderness and back to your usual joking. “What’s the matter with you?” You shoot back. “Can’t get excited without being imperiled?” Cackling, Nori lets you slide, instead winding an arm about your waist and sweeping an arm, letting you lead him to the gazebo bench. “Got me there.”

Ori

“What’s the matter?” Ori ponders your name so sweetly it almost cuts through your fear. “Isn’t it wonderful?” ‘It’ being the view from, at least in your mind, the most precarious parapet in the whole kingdom of Erebor. “I see even more now why we were fighting for this,” he adds, smile growing and wonder positively glowing in his big brown eyes. In almost hilarious contrast, you struggle to feign a smile, fingers tightening around the wall’s edge like a lifeline. Which it quite literally is. It isn’t that high. You can simply take one step, no, two, and go tumbling off the whole of the mountain- The sound of your name cuts off your dread-laced internal ramblings, shaking you back to Ori, to feeling him take hold of your upper arm. “Are you alright? I can see your face, you look so-” Cutting off his desperation, the way he clearly is searching for a kind way to say it, you just sigh and answer him. “You were so excited to show me, I didn’t have the heart to tell you that, well, I have quite the fear of heights.” Ori’s jaw positively drops as he surges back, taking you away from the railing like it’ll burn you. “I’m so sorry, you never told me! How was I to know? Why, here you’ve been just-” You forget your fear entirely in favor of giggling at Ori’s kind reaction. You should have known better than to fear what he would say! “How about we go to the library instead?” Ori offers, hand still on your arm. “I’d like that,” you answer with a smile.

Fili

“Don’t let him catch me telling you this, but do you realize Kili used to have such a bad fear of heights he wouldn’t even set foot on a ladder?” Fili snickered to you, leaning with his arm along the back of your chair. “And that is supposed to be funny?” You replied, eyes wide and one brow raised. All attempts not to show your true thoughts- would Fili think you a fool? “Of course it was! I couldn’t even persuade him into the attic for all the deal it was,” the elder prince answered with a smile of great amusement. Pulling away from his warm proximity, you wrapped an arm around yourself instead. “And why was he wrong to fear harm? To- to avoid doing something he didn’t even need to do? Have you never felt the creeping of dread, of crushing danger?” Sitting back himself, Fili raised his hands defensively. “I’m sorry. I just thought it was funny the way he’d only put a toe up on it. You feel the same, do you not?” You nodded and he shifted back forward to put a hand on your shoulder. “Nothing wrong with that. I swear I won’t laugh about it again.”

Kili

For so-called ‘steps’, this climb certainly was involving your entire body, all of you company members heaving yourselves over each one and you suppressing a whimper at each slip and grind of your boot against smoothened stone. Why did the dwarves have to build their kingdoms so again? Sliding back, you winced, cringing back even harder when Fili playfully nudged you with his elbow. “Careful you don’t- oops!” He seemed to stumble back and fall, bringing you to cry out his name until he popped back up with a grin and laughter. “Quit that!” Kili stepped back down, making his way in between you two. “You’re really scared, aren’t you?” Nodding, you shied away at the way he wrapped an arm around your shoulders. “Don’t worry,” he spoke your name softly, “mean old Fili’s going to apologize, isn’t that right?” “I’m not a child,” you teased, “I just…hate the thought of falling. Of my feet wavering and giving out.” “Understandable,” Fili added, lowering his head, “I promise I won’t actually lay a hand upon you. No more jokes. For once, Kili’s right.” Smiling again, you allowed Kili to guide you up, one hand protectively over the small of your back. “You just wanted to play the hero.” You heard Fili hiss to his brother behind your back, shakily grinning at his words.

Bilbo

“We need to get out of here. Come on.” The hobbit whispers your name urgently, extending and waving his hand at you. How you have managed to avoid losing your mind completely is what you can only imagine to be a testament to your luck. But Bilbo? You had completely lost track of him and now he’s here before you, gripping a tree branch and pleading with those shining grey eyes. This forest has your head spinning, but those eyes are an anchor, something you can focus on for once. Your heart moves, but your body remains in place, blood rushing to your face and slamming chest. “I- I-” What can you say? “Please,” Bilbo adds, “I don’t want to lose you, too. We need air. You must come with me to clear our heads.” Blinking, you look back and forth. Did you need to? Wait, need to what? “Please,” Bilbo begs again, “I’m afraid too. But it won’t be so bad if we’re together, right? I would never let you fall.” The way he begs, says your name so carefully yet so intently, has you nodding and taking his hand, smiling faintly at the warm grip. “Let’s go.”

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centrally-unplanned · 2 months ago

Text

Let's see if I have one more election take in me:

I am deeply sympathetic to Sam Kriss's rage against the Democratic corpo-political shibboleth, and not just because we are both deeply enmeshed in the grand tradition of dissident Oxbridge-style cantankerous internet rants. He is right that Kamala was a weak candidate, for one. But more importantly, I still feel what he feels deep down. I remember the starry idealism of my halcyon youth, of believing that conviction, that vision, that the zeal only a platform birthed from authentic principles, tempered by struggle and sweat, would carry the day over crass, paint-by-polling-numbers incrementalism. When he describes Harris thusly:

"She’s a machine politician. She wants power, but not for any particular reason. It’s just that life is a game, and the point is to reach the highest level."

I see my own reaction to her when she first stepped into the 2020 limelight, and low-key hating her for it. I feel his heart, for it is my heart.

But it is not my brain. Because I am not a teenager anymore, and his critique is fucking bullshit.

He says all this stuff like:

The reason Kamala Harris lost is the same as the reason she was the candidate to begin with: the Democratic Party is allergic to democracy.

And how the electorate is seen as but ants from inside the towers of the Machine, like the Dems just invented "not running a primary" this time as a lark. As opposed to neither party in America ever having primaries against incumbent presidents! Because they are normally popular, and it would be a waste of everyone's time to do that! Could you imagine, launching a real primary against Obama in 2012? And possibly sabotaging his brand a bit for absolutely nothing? It is a reasonable policy, particularly when incumbents used to have an advantage for being so. Now they clearly don't, Biden was unpopular and too old, and the Dems took too long to realize it. A costly mistake, but it is a purely strategic error. Big orgs have inertia, and the Dems fucked up. It has nothing to do with an "allergy to democracy".

And Kriss can go off summarizing how the Harris campaign was offering voters nothing:

But for some unaccountable reason, among the general public, ‘Kamala: You Already Like Her!’ was not the brilliant pitch it seemed to be. [...] Another option would be to actually offer something to the voters.

Which sounds neat, but he made it up! I remember Kamala's actual campaign speeches, ads, and platforms, which she repeated so monotonically in her tightly-scripted campaign appearances: protect abortion rights, expand the welfare state, provide better child care support, lower the cost of housing. And most importantly, she ran on Biden's record of a strong economy and promised to deliver more of it. What does even mean for this to not be a real platform? Beyond not having some synthesized, totalizing "Critique" of modernity that packages it all into a beautiful, systematizing little box.

Because I promise you, voters synthesize jack shit. None of this is why Harris lost - voters have made that pretty clear:

You can find other data ofc, this or that point varies, but the story is not opaque. They didn't like Biden! They didn't like his inflation. They didn't like immigration, or they didn't like his liberalism, and they thought Kamala was too similar. She had too much policy baggage. And she wasn't charismatic enough to dig herself out of that hole - no disagreement from me on that front.

Though even then, by that we mean she lost an election by ~3-4% margins after getting subbed in at the 4th quarter while down by ~8% in the polls. That ain't bad!

None of the voters who matter share Kriss's sensibilities, and he cannot hide his disappointment in that. So he pretends that Donald Trump, the guy who promised 20% tariffs on everything to fight inflation, is giving them a real vision:

That’s what Trump did: he offered an enemy to blame and the prospect of doing violence to them

I don't know man, I think swing voters just don't like the last four years and think 2019 was better. I don't think the promises of orgastic violence against democrats are why Trump won! Actually a bit of an unforced error on his part.

But since Kriss presumes to value democracy, that thesis can't hold - so the lack of reality delivering on what his vision for democracy should be is displaced onto Harris's mistakes. The voters can never fail you. You can only fail to elevate them with the right candidate. Which, tactically? Sure, why not. But you can leave the moralism at the classroom door.

This ties into our dreaded media discourse debate, so it is time to bring in another explainer, by Michael Tomasky:

The line-by-line isn't interesting here; instead I want to focus on this quote:

Weren’t they bothered that Trump is a convicted felon? An adjudicated rapist? Didn’t his invocation of violence against Liz Cheney, or 50 other examples of his disgusting imprecations, obviously disqualify him? And couldn’t they see that Harris, whatever her shortcomings, was a fundamentally smart, honest, well-meaning person who would show basic respect for the Constitution and wouldn’t do anything weird as president? The answer is obviously no—not enough people were able to see any of those things. At which point people throw up their hands and say, “I give up.”

To which the immediate reply is: my dude, what are you talking about??

A 56 percent majority of Americans say Trump is probably guilty of a criminal conspiracy to overturn the 2020 election results through false claims of voter fraud, including 40 percent who believe he is “definitely guilty.” Republicans are less united than Democrats. Nearly 9 in 10 Democrats believe Trump is guilty, while nearly 7 in 10 Republicans think he is innocent. Among independents, nearly twice as many think Trump is guilty as think he is innocent.

You know how when you ~13 years old, and you have that friend who is just old enough to start taking Dungeons & Dragons books filled with splash art of succubi into the bathroom with him, but not yet old enough to get that "talking to girls" is an acquired skill? And they are blatantly, openly salivating over the first chick in the 7th grade class who discovered what power the combination of a camisole and a push-up bra holds over the male gaze? And she just completely ignores his faltering attempts at ~casual conversation~, so his brain script-cycles through its backlog of tween sitcom plots until it lands on, "Hey, what if I confess to her? Then she will know about my feelings!"

And you have to pull him aside and gently explain that, bro. She knows. That is not your problem.

Kriss is too intelligent a thinker to not understand this, but our dear Tomasky - and so many like him - has stuck his 14-year-old head in the sand over this. Swing voters know Trump is a scumbag! They know he lost the election, they know he raped a few women in his day, they know he is a serial fraudster. Even a bunch of those Republicans who, in polls, go "oh it's all a Dem conspiracy"? They know too; they just have the decency to lie about it. How could they not? Every media outlet in the country has been repeating it for a fucking decade! I might think voters are morons but even I won't stoop this low; they have eyes and ears, they aren't illiterate.

They just don't care.

Not enough at least, not enough to make it the only thing they consider. And here is the rub, here is the grand mistake Kriss & Tomasky are making - they are at least somewhat right to not care. The height of the Democratic privilege is that they get to play this card because they don't have to deal with it being turned against them. Kamala is a political chameleon but she is a decent person. She would never take a bribe from a foreign government, she would never assault a coworker, she would never, ever, deny a free and fair election.

Which means you don't have to choose between voting for a rapist and voting for someone who is going to shove a bullshit interpretation of the 14th amendment down your throat via a stacked court to ban abortion nationwide, forever. Pro-life people think abortion is genocide against babies! Why are you surprised they aren't voting for the pro-baby-genocide person because she is nice? How sure are you that you would do the same when that is reversed? I guess those boycott-Harris-because-of-Gaza people got some cred, but I think we all agreed they were dumb, right?

This is the rub of why outsiders always have so much difficulty understanding how people like Berlusconi, Trump, Le Pen, etc, get so much vote share - they have no stake in the political struggle beyond the vague idea of democratic norms. It is easy to say "Italy, choose a non-crook!" when you don't have to live with the policy programme of the other guy. From the inside the price of those principles is far, far harder. It isn't shocking that most choose not to pay it.

This isn't to give voters like a moral pass - Trump's conduct is truly disqualifying, I would vote Republican if the shoe was on the other foot in this case. My point instead is that they generally won't as a simple fact of life, and blaming them is futile. If you have wound up in a situation where the political system has taken its pool of hundreds of millions of potential candidates and narrowed it down to two for the voters, and one of them has "launched a coup but will say go to hell to the inflation guy" as a bundled package, someone fucked up and it isn't the voters.

You need political elites to do their part in the system - Republicans never should have let Trump be their candidate in 2016. Open primaries with no organizational thumbs on the scale are a mistake, actually, allowing arbitrary minorities to generate subpar candidates. The decision to let Biden run again was, fundamentally, born from the same impulse - the Democratic Party had no leadership capable of telling him no, because they outsourced that job to "primaries". The Dems are not "allergic" to democracy; democracy is allergic to too much of itself.

But the cat is out of the bag now! These changes happened for a reason after all. Which I won't dig into here - I will keep my point as focused as something as sprawling as this can be. Voters will not save you, and you should not be disappointed when they don't. It was never their job.

#That's right it was a 10% less democracy bitchfest all long!! Get tricked fools

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