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yandere-wishes · 1 year

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Spider Bite Love

Synopsis: Miguel loves you, this you know. But neither the story nor the hero ever stops long enough to wonder if you love him too.

Warnings: Choking, Biting, Reader is from Miles' universe, Miguel is kinda a perfectionist. Yandere themes.

Author's note: Forgive the Spanish it's mostly found on Google. I took like four months of Spanish back in 7th grade and have retained exactly 0.1% of that knowledge.

💙🕷💙🕷💙🕷💙🕷💙🕷💙🕷💙🕷💙🕷💙

The future is porcelain, all marble white and reflective crystal. Flying cars and a horizon that echoes soft tamed pastels. Nueva York can almost be described as beautiful. Almost.

If not for the technicalities and lies and the loss of total freedom.

If not for a fate that's been prewritten. Repeated across centuries and dimensions. So uncontrollable that it practically cultivates inferiority within your heart. An age-old tradition found in every child's tale about dashing heroes and harrowing villains.

If not for the looming uncomfortable, presence known as Miguel O'Hara who refuses to leave you alone.

Your lover.

Your hero.

Your Spider-man

Although he's not your Spider-Man. Not really. And you're not the love of his life. Not really. You're both just Look-alikes, cheap replicas from a corner dimension.

It's difficult to comprehend, pondering it encompasses you with an unruly headache. Galling and overpowering, not unlike your so-called "Lover".

To put it simply or rather to oversimplify. You are not meant to be here. You are from Earth-1610, at least you think you are. It's hard to tell since apparently from what you've gathered there was another (y/n). One who looked just like you, acted just like you, and was essentially you in every microscopic aspect. At least that's what Miguel says, and you've come to learn that he's not awfully good at telling the full truth.

She died or was killed. As is customary with every hero's first crush. Thus leaving Miguel without a lover or a prisoner. Depending on which iteration of the story you fancy.

Then Miles came along disrupting the canon and causing a dimension's wide spider hunt, with Miguel leading the charge. Somewhere along the lines, between chasing down Miles and barking orders at the other Superheroes his secret society was made of. He passes by your window. Caught a rogue glimpse and froze. He'd found you again, after all these years of believing that you were dead. Technically you were dead, his (y/n) was dead. But there was one here, another one, just as radiant and beautiful as his original lover had been. Miguel knew he had to have you. To take you back to his dimension. To complete his Canon.

Your dimension was doomed anyway.

So he wasn't really doing any harm.

You shuffle uncomfortably on the couch, attempting to readjust your position as to better gaze out the window at the porcelain city.

It's almost homogeneous to Miguel himself.

A perfect city with no room for cracks or mistakes.

A perfect hero who flawlessly preserves the multiverse.

They're both perfect you think as you steal your gaze from the skyline. Although sometimes perfect and pristine aren't always reflective of a person's inner workings. Miguel isn't exactly corrupted but he's far from innocent either. You - and the motley amount of fang marks spread across your body- are living proof of that.

His apartment is clean, spotless, all ceramic tiles and snowy furniture.

No room for faults or fallacy. His whole life is meant to be errorless. Just like the delicate spider-verse, he's all so keen on protecting.

The door chimes, a light buzz and a thud. It's hard to remember that this is technically the future. That trivial things such as keys and locks have long since been eradicated.

Miguel steps in, a bouquet of red and yellow roses grasped within his hand. He walks in as the door buzzes closed behind him. There's a docile look in his eyes as he spots you sitting on the couch. A repeated memory you realize and you wonder if his (y/n) use to wait for him to get back from Spider HQ, all patient and passive like a pretty doll awaiting her master.

"Para vos, mi querida" he mumbles, somehow apathetic and bashful all at the same time.

You reach for the flowers a practiced smile bearly tugging at your lips, your fingers curling around the bouquet, then you freeze eyes going wide.

There's blood on his claws again, pristine rudy red that drips to an invisible tempo. You wonder who he's killed this time. A canon divergent Spider-Man or Spider-Women. A villain running amuck across the city.

Or some regular civilian he was supposed to protect. A regular civilian who had some interaction with you on one of the rare times Miguel actually agreed to take you out. You wonder but you don't date ask.

His suit is unscratched -as it always is- His face is bruise-less, so it makes you think that your final hypothesis may just be the accurate one. Miguel's eyes narrow when notices your frozen hand.

"What's wrong," he asks a gruff edge in his voice, a warning.

One your mind begs you to obey.

"Who did you kill?" You ask eyes concentrated on the sharp blue razors that make him look more monster than superhero. Your fingers abandon the bouquet's base and return to your side. You try to force your eyes into a glare despite the unruly beating of your fearful heart.

One look from Miguel snuffs all that resistance out. One dark glare from eyes that can't choose if they wish to be red or blue. Human or hero. Human or monster. And you're back to cowering into the couch cushions.

"It doesn't matter" he all but barks, a supernatural chill encompasses the room. As he throws the bouquet down onto the ceramic floor. His lips pull back in a snarl, showcasing milky white fangs that gleam in the low lights.

"It does matter Miguel!" Your voice is raising, itching to scream to yell. To make him understand a fraction of your hatred

"You're supposed to be a hero, a savior, but all you ever do is act like a villain. You stole me from my home, you killed my universe's Spider-man, you destroyed my dimension! You're nothing more than a villain wearing a hero's mask."

There's a punchline to this, you're almost sure of it. Some storybook explanation as to why you decided to lash out at the most terrifying creature you've ever met. Maybe in the heat of the frigid moment, you forgot that he's no mere spider. He's a tarantula, bloodthirsty and savage, ready to attack when someone goes poking at him with a stick.

Miguel's fingers tighten around your throat, sharp claws digging into soft skin and delicate muscles. Pushing you further into the couch. Miguel's ears ring with the symphony of your gagging as he tightens his grasp. He thinks you're choking, suffocating, asphyxiating.

Good. With any luck, you'll be dead soon.

"Mocosa ingrata"

He's not sure if your death will be significant in any way. You're honestly too trivial to have any impact on things. If you hold a place in the canon of his timeline or yours, he's yet to find it.

Miguel hates oddities, things that disrupt the canon, selfish missteps that destroy entire dimensions. You're not quite an oddity per se, although everything in your timeline is broken. Dangling from a loose threat at the edge of a cliff. All because Miles Morales decided to be selfish and greedy and "change" what's been canon for longer than any "Spider-man" has been alive. Miles is a mistake. that whole universe is a mistake. It's bound to collapse on itself at any moment. So for the life of him, Miguel can't understand why you're so ungrateful. So desperate to reprimand him and belittle him when all he's doing is trying to save everyone.

He's failed once,

He's failed twice,

He refuses to fail for a third time.

It doesn't matter that you're some helpless civilian who was stuck in the wrong universe at the wrong time. All that matters is that you're (y/n), his (y/n). Every other Spiderman has their Gwen or their MJ. A dutiful lover, to return to when the night ends, when the fighting ends. When the ignorant sun finally decides to reawaken and cast the city in a temporary ray of peacefulness. Someone to love and cherish, to take their minds off of the dread and misery that runs amuck across their lives.

Peter Parker has his Mary Jane.

Miles Morales had his Gwen Stacy.

So why can't Miguel O'Hara have his (Y/n) (L/n)?

When Miguel looks back down at you, he notices your dark eyes. How the life is slowly fading from your body. He relents, pulling you forward and slamming you into the couch one last time before retracting his hand. He sits down next to your coughing body.

"I hate you" you manage to blurt out between desperate heaves. Trying to fill your lungs with as much oxygen as possible. You don't bother looking at him, you know he's mad. He's always mad when you refuse to act like his (y/n). When you poke holes at the perfect illusion he's created.

There's a brief pause. A second of tranquility. Before Miguel grabs your arm and pulls you onto his lap. His mouth parts. Fangs releasing and hovering above your jugular. His fangs pierce your vain, releasing his poison into your bloodstream. It's not lethal, at least not yet. Miguel prefers to think of it as a sedative for when you start to act up.

It soothes you, calms you into remembering your place. Your head lulls to the side, falling on his shoulder as your groggy eyes look up at him with a stare that he can almost trick himself into believing is loving, or some variant of the same emotion.

You're his, he knows that. You have to be. It's all he can tell himself as to stay sane. You'll understand someday. Realize you love him too.

After all every hero needs a lover.

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takami-takami · 11 months

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Like Idiots.

includes— hawks x reader. fluff. minors dni.

warnings— gn!reader. pining like idiots. keigo is a pain in the ass. the reader is worse. i had fun with this. <3

There is zero need for Keigo to make a confession when it comes to his crush. It would be entirely redundant to confess.

Your sigh at the thought is palpable. It really is quite a shame.

Part of you yearns for that passionate drama of an ending, where in some novela-inspired twist of fate, your adoring knight is forced to spill his love at your feet. In your daydreams— the ones dreadfully reminiscent of some lovelorn teenager's— a faceless villain from fuck-all-nowhere nearly ends the life of his beloved hero partner.

And the words spill from his throat like his lovesick sobs, clutching you close to his chest while you do your best to pretend you're not biting back a smile at the attention.

"I love you! I've always loved you," he'd cry.

Or something like that.

And you'd kiss, and sparks would fly, or whatever.

End scene.

You're not getting that confession, though.

It figures your love life would turn out to be a comedy. Par for the course of your life, you suppose.

Instead of a scrawled letter sealed with wax or a poem whispered under the imposing moonlight, your confession is written all over Keigo's face— well, not all over, exactly. Every centimeter of his face conceals his emotions meticulously, flawlessly.

Every portion of his face is perfectly practiced and impeccably controlled; except for two measly little points.

You prod at your food again with your fork in hand, all frowns as you sit across from your work partner in a booth at the diner he likes to drag you to on your lunch breaks.

And you stare uncomfortably into the most cartoonishly blown pupils you've ever seen.

"Um. Hawks?"

"Yeah? What's up, chickadee," he asks sincerely before chomping down messily on a battered chicken drum, moaning and letting his eyes fall shut as he does with every meal— typically an obstacle for your focus, this accidentally whorish display is actually a welcome reprieve from your racing thoughts.

When his eyes flutter open once more, you're faced once again with black saucers and the sound of reckless chewing. His pupils are still dilated like a cat tripping balls on the dealer's finest catnip.

"Hawks, I really think I should tell you that—"

Your intervention is rudely interrupted by a waitress in a 50's style apron and folded paper hat combo, likely rushing over notepad in hand to get first dibs on serving a celebrity.

You would prefer to be unfair. It'd be easier to displace your frustration for your lot in life onto this poor woman, to tell her that her hat looks stupid and pink isn't her color, that she should really just stop trying.

You decide to be an adult.

Keigo, on the other hand, does not. Like a child given free reign to order for himself at a restaurant for the first time, he explains that she should really heap on the sugar for his coffee.

"No, no, no. More than that. Like syrup. I want it to taste like it's gonna put me in an early grave and— wait, where are you going?"

The debacle brings to attention another phenomenon that you've grown accustomed to seeing:

The second his gaze meets her's, Keigo's pupils shrink to points once more, constricting to tight dots before bouncing back to their natural size. And predictably, once again, they expand like blown glass when you catch his attention.

"Hawks!"

"Yeah, what?"

His chewing ceases obnoxiously, chicken drum in his right hand and half-chewed remains in his left cheek.

You might as well rip it off like a bandaid. You let out a puff of air.

"Your eyes," you attempt to gently point out.

"Mm?" Keigo's head tilts to the side, pondering your observation for a moment.

"My eyes? Ohh," he drags his words as if in realization, treating himself to another chomp into the drumstick. "You gettin' lost in them, huh? Happens, dove. You can stare, I don't mind."

"No!" You squeak out your denial before smoothing down your shirt and tipping your chin high.

You have the upper hand here. Remember that.

"I mean," you correct your course, staring down and poking at your plate while a smile creeps up your lips. "It's kinda hard not to when your pupils look like they're gonna swallow your goddamn irises."

The silence that follows is deafening.

"Kei'?" You flick your gaze up toward him, worried now.

Under normal circumstances, it's an established habit for Keigo to slot one palm over his mouth when called out.

But this time, that hand bypasses his lips, crawling upward to reach his visor and wordlessly drag it down over the source of his shame.

A stronger person than you would hold back their laughter. They would take pity on the flush rising over his cheeks and neck like sunsets. Perhaps they would coo praises to soothe him, or even take it all back to ease the shame and discomfort that makes him feel utterly naked.

They would take pity on the man who, under the fluorescent high beams bolted to the diner's ceiling, looks just like a clown tripping on stage with the spotlight shined on his face.

You are not a strong person.

In your hysterics, you reach over to pry the barrier off his eyes, climbing into his lap and over him like tussling teenagers.��

"Keigo, I didn't say it was a bad thing—"

"You're laughing," he laments like a kicked puppy, prying your face an arm's length from his with a single palm.

It's over. This is it for him. His life is over, he's going to have to change his identity.

He can start fresh with a new hero name, one not centered around red-tailed hawks— he'll need to rebrand as another bird, most likely. Preferably one with the same signature red feathers so as not to make a fuss for the merch department.

Maybe a parrot.

Winged-Hero Parrots.

"You're laughing at me!"

"I'm not laughing at—" another uncontrollable wheeze. His wings flap in indignance once, slamming against the cushions of the pink diner seat before drooping down like a dog's tail between its legs. You pluck the visor and raise it above your head out of arm's reach, one hand planted against his chest for stability.

"Not laughing at you! Baby, I promise—"

"Baby?" He repeats.

The silence is worse the second time around— but luckily for you, Keigo is a stronger person than you are. No laughter erupts from his chest, no smirk settles on his face.

If anything, your slip up seems to elevate his heart rate more than yours.

"We really should—"

"I think we need to—"

Both sentences collide in the small space between you, his lips completely still and mere inches away from yours.

You're reminded of the feeling of your fingertips about to touch metal after being charged with static, the skin crackling with the air's tension as you contemplate whether to just get it over with and touch.

And slowly, as if suddenly cognizant of your bodies and environment, you both crawl off each other and scoot toward the furthest edges of the booth seat.

Your knees make their way toward your chest for comfort, while Keigo's wings drape over his shoulders like a cocoon.

"We should talk."

#🖋 writing #🍧 sugar #hawks x reader #keigo takami x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #x reader

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ajwild220 · 1 year

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"Trust me" Hero x Villain

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“Take them to their room. Now. I will deal with them myself” Villains words held a promise, making Hero’s skin crawl.

Hero’s arms were instantly enveloped in the strong grasp of two of Villain’s henchman. Their body flexing on instinct as if preparing for a fight, a fight they promptly lost as both Henchman’s grip turned bruisingly tight. It was all Hero could do to not wince in Villains presence as they were dragged down the hallway their nemesis’s eyes following them until they turned the corner.

The longer Hero was forced to walk the more they began to panic. Villain had always scared them more than they cared to admit. The very thought of them being in a room alone together with Villain having the upper hand was terrifying to them. Villain's promise loomed in the air, they would deal with them. Personally.

Hero’s mouth went dry and they tried to swallow. Now they were fighting more enemies than the ones who had their meaty hands gripping Hero’s arms. Hero fought down their own panic which was a much harder battle to win. Every doorway they passed only served to raise Hero’s trepidation as their muted powers begged to surface but it would be of no use, the henchmen’s body armor was specially made. There was no way, powers or not, Hero could free themselves from their clutches.

Finally they reached a familiar doorway. The one Hero had managed to escape from not a half hour ago. The taste of defeat was sickening. Hero’s heartbeat began to rise, they couldn’t go back in there. They couldn’t face villain alone. They struggled and immediately wished they hadn’t. A harsh blow fell across their face making their vison go white, their eyes smarting with tears from the impact before they were shoved to their knees, arms ripped behind them eliciting a small cry. When Hero heard the click, their head snapped wildly around. Power suppressing cuffs. Hero’s fighting only aided in more bruises as the cuffs clamped both wrists behind them. Any hope of a fight with Villain was banished, they were completely at their mercy. The henchmen yanked Hero up off the floor sneering as they threw them through the open doorway. As they hit the floor Hero could hear the bolt locking from the outside.

Hero couldn’t help but take a shuddering breath as the footsteps outside faded into complete silence. Their arms ached where finger shaped bruises were beginning to form and circulation was just beginning to flow again. Reluctantly they pushed off the floor, which was easier said than done with their arms securely behind them, and leaned heavily on the bedframe. The room was dark but their eyes were beginning to adjust to the moonlight streaming through the protected windows opposite them. They couldn’t help but glance around at the place of their previous captivity. It was just as they had left it, the room too lavish for any prisoner.

It was unsettling, the soft pillows and comforter, dark curtains, two comfortable chairs with an attached bathroom. How you would treat a guest, not a captive. The mixed signals had eaten at Hero the entire time they had been here just as they were now. They suppressed a shiver as they remembered the way Villain had watched them be dragged away. Eyes never leaving their face as they told the henchmen Hero’s fate.

Hero felt sick. The reality of Villains appearance in the near future was sinking into their being leaving behind a cold wake of fear. On a normal day Hero would put on a brave face and run towards the danger as any good Hero would, but today was far from normal. Normally they were an even match, now Hero was stripped of any way of defense, Villain could do anything.

Overwhelming dread and hopelessness pulsed through Hero’s veins as they began to pace. Their heart thumped unnaturally strong in their chest and their breathing started to grow harsh and ragged as they pondered what Villain’s threat could mean. Surely the pain they felt all over themselves now could not compare to what would come when they were at their enemy's mercy. That’s when they heard a thump. The telltale sound of footsteps coming to stop outside their door.

Hero tried desperately to calm themselves, but it only resulted in more panicked anticipation. As they heard the key in the lock, they bit their lip until it bled. A trickle of blood pooled inside their lips forcing Hero to swallow as they slowly backed themselves into the wall trembling and straightening their back in effort to look like they had their emotions in check.

The lock rattled and the hinges creaked as if joyfully announcing the new arrival. Hero's mouth went dry as Villain entered calmly, tall, strong, imposing as ever as their body filled the doorframe. Their eyes, eerily blue swept the room before locking onto Hero and closing the door behind them with a resounding click causing Hero to shudder.

“Hello Hero” their voice dripped into the silence. Hero’s fingernails dug into their palms to keep their hands from shaking. “Why are you standing in the dark?” it almost sounded like… genuine concern? Villain’s eyebrows furrowed a bit, and they remained still for a moment before slowly reaching toward the light waiting for any indication of displeasure from Hero. Hero remained as unmoving as possible pulse rushing wildly through their ears. The light flicked on and Hero squeezed their eyes shut against the brightness.

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The first thing Villain noticed was Hero’s eyes, once adapted to the light they were wide, skitterish and their pupils were dilated. Hero was watching them with an emotion they had never seen from them before, their back pushed against the wall and their hands behind them. The whole thing was odd, normally Hero would stand tall, eyes daring them to fight or make some sassy comment. This seemed like an entirely different person. That’s when Villain noticed the blood, barely present on Hero’s swollen lip. Villains face darkened as they took a step into the room. “Hero, who—”

Before Villain could ask which henchman had dared lay hands on them Hero did something entirely unexpected. As soon as Villain stepped forward Hero stifled a whimper and cowered away. Villain froze. Everything clicked at that moment. The look, the posture, the eyes; Hero was terrified of them.

That had never been Villains intention. In fact, it was quite the opposite. Hero had been placed here for their protection, Supervillain’s heist was happening this week and Villain had begged to keep Hero somewhere where they would not cause problems. Unbeknownst to Supervillain, Villain just couldn’t stand the thought of sweet sacrificial Hero getting caught in the crossfire. They had never intended for something like this to happen.

“Hero?” Villain almost whispered.

Hero kept their eyes solidly trained on Villains boots and Villain could see their lip almost trembling. Villain took another step forward this time, much more slowly as they spoke “Hero, listen to me.” Another step, another whimper from Hero. “I am not going to hurt you.” Villain was not known for being reassuring but something about seeing Hero, their Hero, so broken, eyes like a kicked puppy, something tugged at them. They were so close to Hero now, almost close enough to reach out and touch them. Hero’s head was down, shoulders slumped as if to protect themselves but their hands remain decisively behind them. Something was behind Hero.

“What are you holding?” Villain couldn’t help the slightly suspicious tone. Perhaps this was all a hoax, a farce to get Villain close enough for Hero’s scheme. Hero didn’t answer.

“What are you holding, Hero?” the sympathy left Villains voice and they stood up straight again, tall and threatening. “Show me. Now.” Hero’s wide eyes met Villain’s a moment before Villain struck. Villain closed the distance between them grabbing Hero’s shoulders and turning them forcing their chest against the wall. Hero’s breathing hitched as Villain held them firmly in place. Villain instantly examined Hero’s hands, freezing at what they saw. They hadn’t asked henchmen for the power restraining binding.

Guilt flowed through Villain as they began to feel Hero’s body shudder under their grip. Villain wanted to apologize, to say sorry. Instead, their grip loosened as they traced the moon shaped indents Hero’s nails had made against their restrained palms. “I didn’t know” they fully released Hero who immediately tried to put space between them. “I didn’t ask them to put those on you, believe me.”

Hero swallowed as they took a step to the side their voice shook but they tried to resemble the Hero they were. “Don’t ask me to believe that Villain.”

Villain’s eyes raked over them, disheveled, shaking and still fighting back, even if it was just a little.

“Even if it’s the truth?” Villain tried to step closer, but Hero moved back.

“If it’s the truth,” Hero took a shaking breath. “Prove it.”

The room was still as they both stood silently, Hero just beginning to think maybe they had made the wrong move. Then Villain sprang into action. Determinedly they began to close the gap between them, it was unexpected, and Hero tried to move away but Villain was ready this time. Before Hero could register what was happening their back hit the wall at the corner of the room with Villains body blocking all escape.

Hero’s ears burned red at their proximity and heartbeat faster knowing they were completely trapped. They wanted to put their hands up as a barrier, a separation between them, but they couldn’t. They couldn’t fight back; they dropped their gaze, breath once again shaky at Villains mercy.

Warm fingers gently directed their chin upwards, Hero tried to pull out of Villain’s touch but Villain wouldn’t let them, fingers still gingerly holding Hero’s chin as they waited for Hero to relax enough to look them in the eyes. When Hero finally complied Villain hummed in approval,

“In order to 'prove it' you have to let me near you, Sweetheart.”

Villain could feel Hero’s breath hitch at the nickname. Villain continued “I didn’t put those cuffs on you, I don’t have the key so I can’t just let you out.” Hero stiffened “but hold on relax I wasn’t finished.” Villain waited for Hero to breathe again. “I know how to break you out, the thing is,” Villain finally dropped their fingers from Hero’s face. “You have to trust me and stay still.”

Hero’s fear of Villain was only surpassed by the insane desire to be free. They offered Villain a small nod. It was still hard for Hero to think with Villain’s body so close so entrapping and warm, but they didn’t have another option in sight.

“Alright then. But first—” Villain delved quickly into their pocket and retrieved a clean white handkerchief. Unfortunately, all Hero saw was Villains raised hand and quick movement. They flinched in anticipation of a blow. When it never came, they opened their eyes slowly and upon seeing the contents of Villain’s hand realized their mistake. Carefully they met Villains gaze, it was not angry as expected, more of an emotion they couldn’t place but it seemed almost like disappointment.

Villain broke eye contact this time as they folded the handkerchief and held it up almost shyly. “For your lip.” Villain paused a strange weight coming between them,

“We’re not in uniform, I wouldn’t hit you like that.”

Hero studied Villains face and upon seeing truth, nodded slowly in understanding.

Villain offered a half smile devoid of actual happiness just to show they were glad they were understood before raising the cloth, slower this time, in Hero’s direction. Hero pulled away their voice small, “could we wait until after you take the cuffs off?”

“Would you let me clean your lip if both your hands were free?”

Hero paused, “Yes.”

“Liar.” Hero's lips almost quirked at how well Villain knew them. “I can see what you can’t, it will be better if I do it…Or do you not trust me?”

It was a trap and Hero knew it, if they said they didn’t trust them how would they ever get the cuffs off. And if they said they did Villain would do what they wanted anyway. It was a lose-lose situation.

Villain could sense the inner conflict and interrupted “Just trust me. Please.”

Hero took a shuddering breath, once again they were posed with a choice that wasn’t really much of a choice. “Ok, go ahead.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“You wouldn’t like my answer,” Hero retorted. “be content that I’m allowing you to do this.”

Villain who had given Hero more space in the last few moments closed the gap and rested their hand on the wall behind Hero’s head “Since when are you in control of this situation?”

That shut Hero up pretty quickly. The forgotten fear had come back as they remembered exactly who they were sassing. Villain didn’t wait for Hero’s thoughts to catch up rather brought the handkerchief up to Hero’s face, wiping away the little blood that had stained their bottom lip. Hero’s face was beet red, and they didn’t know where to look. Villain was so concentrated, and their hand was impossibly gentle. Hero tried not to move, much less shiver at Villain's touch.

Villain finished cleaning the drying blood and they refolded the handkerchief to a clean space. One hand moved to cradle Hero’s jaw and Hero tensed as Villains thumb calmly caressed Hero bottom lip.

“Relax.”

It was quite hard to relax when Hero’s heart was practically beating out of their chest. No one had ever held them like this, much less been this gentle. They would have wanted to lean into the touch had they not remembered just who’s hands they were in. Their arch nemesis, Villain, the one who had put them here, the one they were afraid of! Hero’s mind screamed at them to pull away and stop the mixed feelings, but Villain interrupted,

“Am I hurting you?”

Hero’s eyebrows furrowed “What?” they practically whispered.

“I asked if I was hurting you.” Villain asked matter of factly.

Confused Hero shook their head, “No.”

Villains thumb resumed lightly rubbing Hero’s lip

“Then please relax so I can see your cut. It’s mostly on the inside.” Hero’s lips only relaxed a bit with the information. Villain looked at Hero with a longsuffering glint in their eyes. “Would you please let me help you? I’m not trying to hurt you.” Hero didn’t want to give in, to trust the person before them but something in Villain’s tone reminded them, they were safe. What an odd word to use while in a situation like this. However, Hero took a deep breath and allowed Villain to assess the damage.

Villain was careful, painstakingly so. They wiped away the fresh blood and put a small amount of pressure on the miniature wound. Hero winced.

“Sorry” Villain seemed to wince with them. Just as quickly as it had begun it was over. Villain ran a thumb over their lip one last time before dropping all contact from which Hero had to hide their sigh of relief.

Stuffing the handkerchief back in their pocket Villain took a step back before sitting down in one of the cushioned chairs leaving Hero standing dumbly in the corner.

“You were really that scared of me?”

Hero gave a confused look.

Villain gestured to their own lip. “The bite. You must have done it right before I came through the door.”

“I-I well what was I supposed to expect when you said you’d deal with me personally?”

“Well I thought I would come in and have a deal of fun with you.”

Hero’s features contorted at the implication before Villain realized their mistake.

“No no no that’s not what I meant” they almost rose from their seat before taking their face in their hands “that was not what I meant at all, I misspoke. I meant I was going to congratulate you on your escape and I thought we would banter like we always do. I didn’t think you would see me as the threat and…I wasn’t planning any of this.”

A long pause followed Villains outburst, the quiet calming Hero as they could sense the almost fond attitude Villain had towards them. In fact, if they didn’t know better they would even say that Villain was embarrassed by the things said in the last few moments. Villain sat stick straight looking vastly uncomfortable. Hero couldn’t help this strange feeling inside of them, perhaps it was their Heroic instincts or maybe just the fact that they truly understood that Villain was not planning to hurt them at the moment. Whatever it was Hero did something they hadn’t done the entire time they had seen Villain. They closed the gap between them and unquestioningly turned their back and held out their hands.

“I trust you.”

Part 2

#hero x villain #scared hero #villain x hero #flinch #flinching #Hero x villain flinch #Villain x scared hero #dramatic tension #hero #villain #oneshot #snippet #my writing #ficlet

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haine-kleine · 2 months

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Taking a break from doomposting to once again ponder the meaning of the chapter from a storytelling point of view. It fails to complete any storyline point previously established. Ochako is still repressing her survivor's guilt and covering it up with fake sweet smiles. Deku and Ochako don't really reach any understanding nor comfort each other after this traumatic experience: Ochako still blames herself for Himiko's death, Izuku has seemingly moved on from Shigaraki's death using it as a learning example on his way forward. The party is random and the cheer is forced. Eri mutilating herself with the help of an adult hero goes unaddressed. The old lady is the only character exhibiting any development but it falls flat because we don't have much reason to care about the character who is not Tenko that she saves. It was Shigaraki who needed saving and didn't get it.

The one thing this chapter achieves is destroying any hope the readers had left. The next chapter is not necessary, judging by how meaningless most of the epilogue chapters have been so far.

But looking at this from another angle, the one thing Horikoshi can do, after killing the remaining embers of our hope, is subvert our expectations.

The only logical conclusion from the nameless boy looking so much like Tenko was obvious, but his appearance had very awkward timing if all the purpose this character has is to show the positive changes in society. He would have fit in the framing of chapter 427, which was focused on the society's opinion about Shigaraki Tomura and how they perceive him. It talks repeatedly about the collective fear of the next Shigaraki resurging and what preventive measures they can take. The old lady, whose character purpose was to not save Tenko, even appears in that chapter! If the positive change was the intended message, why cut her narrative into awkward parts and squeeze the second one in place of Ochako's supposed resolution? And once again, why show the boy so early? He appeared in the chapter that started slowly revealing the fates of the villains, and his appearance was immediately followed by Touya's. The logical connection is obvious. Teasing that not-Tenko character to leave the audience guessing for a month, seems like a red herring, and if the nameless boy being saved by a person who could have saged Tenko and didn't, is just there to fool our expectations, it's an unnecessarily cruel move from the author. He knew what he was doing. Despite his death, the epilogue heavily focuses on Shigaraki Tomura and various people's opinions on whether or not he deserved to be saved. Horikoshi killing him and saving a new barely introduced character in his place seems like a negative answer from the author himself.

Then, again

Shigaraki's death, despite being confirmed by the characters, was not actually shown on screen, with Kurogiri being conveniently close by, very motivated to save him.

So what if the not-Tenko boy is indeed a red herring, whose purpose is to fool the audience for one last time?

Here are some random ideas how this can work:

• not-Tenko is actually Tenko, his memory is just fucked up. The boy's backstory is about being kept imprisoned by his family in the house against his will. Well isn't that awfully convenient, cause you know who else hated being in his house

• Tenko is not the new boy, but he is alive, out there somewhere. Healing, being taken care of by Kurogiri, possibly trying learn using his new quirk. Watching his name being dragged through the mud on the news everyday.

• Tenko reconstructed himself back from the dust wrong, as it was his first time using the new quirk. Maybe he had accidentally merged himself with Kurogiri. Maybe non-Tenko's memories that he shares are his damaged consciousness' rendition of Tenko's actual backstory. Maybe he decided to leave Japan forever and fucked off to America, who even knows, the author clearly doesn't so go wild with your imaginations

#no longer bnha critical now bnha tinfoiling #this isn't really a theory as much as a stream of conscious #don't have any faith left in the author #lemme write it for you #bnha spoilers #bnha 429 #shigaraki tomura

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sara-scribbles · 1 year

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Melting the Dragon King’s Heart (Part 2)

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland Malleus Draconia/F!Reader Summary: After falling down some stairs, you wake up in the body of a villain from one of Idia's cheesy romance books. Destined to die a fiery death, you have to figure out a way to change your fate. Word Count: 8,000 Notes: I decided to split this part into two. The original is about 11k words and counting. This way I can work on the final part but also provide everyone with something. Reader uses she/her pronouns Warnings: Physical abuse, emotional abuse

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

After revising the proposal and sending along the messengers, you spent a lot of time filling out paperwork. Malleus seemed to trust you to do more, so you found yourself given more work. Though you’re glad he trusts you more, you hate all the new work.

Because of all the work, you’re unable to do much besides hole up in the office. Thankfully Diablo is always there to bring snacks and remind you of the time. You often get lost in the paperwork and forget to do the basic necessities such as eating dinner. Malleus is always happy to answer any questions you have, and having his office across the way is very handy.

It’s a few weeks later that you notice the castle is abuzz with more activity than usual. You can hear everyone rushing back and forth while signing off on a few things. You can see staff rush by with vases, flowers and linen.

“Diablo, what’s going on?” you ask the butler, who places a new cup of tea down.

“The palace is preparing for his highness’s birthday,” he informs you. “It is a national holiday so Briar Valley throws a party for the citizens. There’s also a ball that is hosted in his honor where we invite the surrounding kingdoms. This year's theme is a masquerade.”

You had completely forgotten about his birthday. Setting aside your work, you lean forward on your elbow while strumming your fingers on the desk. “What should I get him as a gift?” you muse aloud.

Glancing over at the butler, he pretends to stare straight ahead. After a moment, he sighs before shaking his head. “I apologize, your highness, but I do not think I should tell you what to get his highness.”

“But I don’t really know what he likes…” That’s not completely true, but it would be nice to get something that you know Malleus will like.

“My advice is that as long as the gift has your thoughts and feelings, his majesty will like it.” Diablo bows slightly before leaving.

Letting out a deep sigh, you jot down a list of things you know Malleus likes and dislikes. From your previous conversations, you do know some things. He likes gargoyles, abandoned places, and cold treats. He dislikes whole cakes and gargoyles that serve no function.

“What to get him…” A maid gently raps on the door, disrupting your thoughts.

“I apologize for disturbing your highness, but a letter just arrived.” She hands you the cream colored envelope with a rose wax seal.

Once she leaves, you open the rather thick letter. Reading through it, your eyes slowly widen with each word. Excitement and trepidation fill every fiber in your body. Leaving your study, you make the very quick trip to Malleus’s office next door. Your sudden intrusion startles him from the paper he’s reading.

“He responded!” you exclaim, slapping the letter down on the desk.

He quizzically looks at you before taking the letter. You watch as he quickly scans the contents. “Riddle Rosehearts wants to meet about our proposal,” you explain. “It’s a good sign, right?”

He sets the letter down and nods. “It would seem he wants to iron out the details. I’m surprised he responded so quickly, since I’ve heard he’s the type not to make decisions without careful consideration.” He ponders, “Perhaps he’s been wanting to establish relations with us and this gives him a good excuse.”

“Right! So, when do you want to go?”

“You wish to do this soon?” he asks.

Nodding, you explain, “I think it would be ideal to do this sooner rather than later.”

“Hmm… I have a few meetings to attend with some diplomats from other countries. And then there’s the banquet…” He shifts through a notebook containing his day-to-day schedule. “Maybe we could go… no that won’t work.”

After a while of going through his schedule, he sighs deeply. Brows furrowing, a small frown appears on his lips. “It seems I will be busy for a few months. We may not be able to do this as quickly.”

There’s a pause before you throw out a suggestion. “What if I go and meet with him?”

“Alone?” His frown deepens.

“Yes. I believe I can work on this with him. We won’t sign anything, but it will at least iron out the details.” You want to do this. It’s something you worked on for a while, so it would be nice to be the one to close the deal. And you can’t say you’re not curious to see what the Queendom of Roses is like.

“I know you might be worried about my abilities, but I would like the opportunity to prove myself beyond paperwork and readings.”

Malleus regards you quietly. The frown has left his face but his brows are still creased. “I do not doubt your abilities. I just worry about you being in another country alone.”

A small laugh escapes your lips. His concern for your safety is endearing. “I can bring a guard or two with me, if that will ease your worries,” you quickly add.

That seems to alleviate some of his worry. “Yes, I think that will be fine. When would you like to leave?”

Taking the letter, you fold it back into the envelope. “His highness said he could meet starting next week. How about a week from now? It should give me enough time to send a response back and prepare for the trip.”

“So soon…” he mutters. Letting out a huff, he waves off whatever is concerning him “I will instruct Silver and Sebek to accompany you. Diablo will help you prepare everything else.”

You’re surprised he’s having his two closest knights go with you. “Are you sure? I could take someone else.”

He shakes his head. “These two are one of my most trusted knights, so it would be appropriate that they guard you on your journey.”

Seeing the firm set of his lips, you know not to argue. “Thank you. I will gather some material and start packing.”

Turning to leave, Malleus calls to you. “How are your parents doing?” he asks suddenly.

You halt, almost stumbling in your steps, before slowly turning toward him. “They’re fine. Why do you ask?”

“I was thinking we can send them an invitation for my birthday ball,” he explains. You can’t read his expression.

Every fiber in your being wants to scream ‘no’ and that you never want to see them. But you know you can’t. You have to keep up appearances for now. “If that’s what you would like, then please invite them,” you respond as calmly as you can.

He’s quiet as he studies you before nodding. “If there is anyone else you want to invite, please let Diablo know. The invitations will go out in about three weeks.” He returns to his papers.

You suddenly have an idea. “Is there anything you want for your birthday?” you inquire, walking over to stand in front of his desk.

“Nothing in particular,” he says, not looking up.

“Really? Nothing at all?” You’re hoping he’d give you some ideas. Buying birthday gifts for Idia was easy since he usually wanted something related to his games or anime.

Malleus finally looks up from his papers. “I’m sure whatever you decide, I will like.”

You resist the urge to groan. “Diablo said something similar, you know…” Placing both hands on his desk, you give him a stern look. “If I give you something you hate, let me know right away. Okay?”

He blinks twice. “I doubt you’d ever give me something I’d hate.” He pauses when he sees the slight turn of your lips. “...but I will let you know if that happens.”

“Great!” Turning on your heel, you leave his office. You miss the smile on his lips as he watches you go with a fond look.

---

The trip to the Queendom of Roses is an uneventful ride. Silver and Sebek do accompany you on horseback. Neither say much so you’re left going over things in your head. You’re not sure how this will go, but can only hope you don’t start a war.

The Queendom is lush and green with picturesque homes. Everything reminds you somewhat of images from the Victorian era. When you arrive at the castle, you’re greeted by the queen’s personal advisor, Trey Clover.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, your highness,” he greets with a deep bow.

Taking his offered hand, you step out of the carriage. “Thank you for having me, Mr. Clover.”

“Please call me Trey. If you’ll follow me, his majesty has prepared some tea.” Silver and Sebek follow a few paces behind as you’re led through the rose garden. Some of the roses, you notice, are white while others are red. And some of the red roses almost look to be dripping in paint.

When you arrive at the heart of the garden maze, you are greeted by the queen himself, Riddle Rosehearts. He’s dressed impeccably, though you wouldn’t expect less from someone who follows rules strictly. Though much shorter than Trey, there’s something about his presence that seems to tower over everyone.

He greets you with a bow. “It’s nice to meet you in person.” He’s polite but firm.

“Thank you for having me.” As you dip into a bow, you can’t help but marvel at his composure. For someone who’s around your age, he carries himself as if he’s much older and wiser.

“Trey, please place her highness across from me,” he orders. Silver and Sebek melt somewhere into the background without a word.

As you take the offered seat, you give him a tentative smile. “You can call me by my name. I’d like to think we’ll be good friends soon.”

He seems to sputter a bit before finding himself. “If you insist. Please just call me Riddle, then.”

As tea is served, you engage in small talk. Though you’re eager to get on to the topic of the proposal, etiquette dictates you share pleasantries. It would be considered rude since the tea and treats were specially prepared. The strawberry tarts are delicious so you don’t really mind.

After enjoying the tea, Riddle wastes no time getting onto the business. “Your proposal is indeed interesting to us, however, I want to ask you something.”

“Go ahead.”

He leans forward, hands propped under his chin. “What would you do if we said no?”

There’s a pause. You hadn’t actually considered they would reject your proposal. After a moment, you carefully choose your words. “I would respect your decision. Ultimately, you do not need to accept the proposal. We are not the type of country to force our will on to another. Though, I do think it would be foolish not to take the deal.”

He gestures for you to explain. “Though the Queendom is rich in crops, you do lack magical resources. As you’re aware, Briar Valley is old and has many deposits of magic, which have been refined into its purest form. I’m sure trading between us would help increase the Queendom’s magical might.”

Riddle leans back as he mulls over your words. Your heart beats rapidly in your chest, wondering what is going through his head. After a few moments, he smiles. “Let us draft up an official agreement, then.”

“You accept?” you ask, a bit surprised considering how serious he had been looking. He almost looked like he was about to reject the offer.

“Yes. I’ve always thought it would be good to become allies with our neighboring countries,” he explains. “I realize we haven’t really interacted in the past, but I hope this will be the start to a good relationship between our kingdoms.”

Relief washes over you. “I agree. I think this will be beneficial to both of us in the long run.” There’s a loud commotion that causes you both to turn and look around. “Is…is everything okay?”

Riddle frowns. “There shouldn’t be any problems… Trey?” The green haired man from before does not appear, which causes Riddle’s frown to deepen.

Then, there’s a loud shout. “Get back here!”

A gray blur bursts through the bushes and makes a beeline toward you and Riddle. A redhead and a brunette follow suit, both looking disheveled. “You can’t be here, Grim!” the brunette shouts.

The gray blur stops short and you realize it’s a cat. A strange cat that can stand on two feet with blue flames coming from its ears. You can’t help but stare as you realize who this cat is. And just as you thought, another person comes through the maze, out of breath. Yūki, the protagonist of ‘Melting the Dragon King’s heart’ and the one who saves Malleus, stands before you.

“Grim! Trey said he’d feed you some tarts later!” Yūki shouts.

“Mrrrawh! I want a tart now!” Grim howls.

Riddle stands up, his chair falling to the ground. His face is bright red. “What do you think you’re doing! We have an important guest and you make a spectacle!”

“Uhh… uh oh!” The cat slinks back at the sudden anger rolling off in waves from Riddle.

The redhead manages to grab Grim by the scruff of his neck. “Gotcha!”

Trey steps in along with Silver and Sebek. “I apologize, Riddle. We weren’t able to catch him.”

You, however, can’t take your eyes off the protagonist. In the books Yūki is a magicless human in a world filled with magic. However, that never stops them from traveling to different places and having adventures with their friend, Grim. It’s during one of their trips that they happen to meet Malleus, and everything else falls into place.

You never thought much about where Yūki’s last adventure was before coming to Briar Valley since the story glossed over everything. But to see them before the start of the novel is strange, yet you’re curious.

Feeling your gaze, Yūki turns to you. Their eyes are bright and filled with wonder. “Hello, your highness.” They bow. “I apologize for interrupting your meeting.” They ignore the others who are still squabbling. Riddle doesn’t look ready to calm down any time soon either.

“It’s nice to meet you…?”

“Yūki! And that,” they point to the cat who’s munching on leftovers, “is Grim. We’re adventures.”

Though you’ve only spoken a few words, you can feel their warmth and sincerity. No wonder they’re able to break the magic on Malleus so easily. They’re like an early spring day coming to thaw the remaining coldness from winter. Ironic, you think.

“An adventure? Where else have you traveled?” you asked, genuinely curious.

“Well, we just came back from visiting the Island of Woe. But we’ve also seen the Shaftlands, Scalding Sands, Coral Sea, and the Sunset Savanna.” They tick off each location on their fingers.

From your memories, you’ve never been anywhere besides your home and then to Briar Valley. The Queendom of Roses is the first place you’ve ever visited. “That’s a lot of places! You must have a lot of fun.”

Yūki chuckles, rubbing the back of their neck. “Yeah… we always manage to get into some kind of trouble, so it’s not that great. I’ve heard Briar Valley is a nice, quaint place…”

“Yes, it’s quiet but the people there are wonderful. You should come visit someday.” The offer is genuine.

They smile, making their face light up. “We definitely will. I think right now Grim and I are going to rest a bit more here.”

“Is the food good there?” Grim suddenly butts in. There are crumbs all over his mouth, which Yūki begins wiping off with a napkin.

You nod thoughtfully. “I would say so. If you come to visit the castle, I’ll make sure to have our chefs whip up a wonderful meal.” You haven’t had much complaint about the food. Though there are some comfort meals you miss from home.

“Sweet! Let’s go there next, Yūki!” The cat’s eyes light up at the prospect.

They groan while crossing their arms. “I still need time to rest from our last adventure. Anyways, Riddle said we could stay as long as we wanted, which means you’ll have access to unlimited tarts.”

Grim huffs but doesn’t seem too bothered. “I guess you’re right…”

Riddle, having calmed down, sits back in his seat. “I do apologize for the abrupt intrusion from my knights.”

The two who had been trying to catch grim, kneel. “We apologize for intruding, your majesty,” they both say in unison

Trey shakes his head. “Honestly… this is Ace and Deuce. They’re newly appointed knights, so they’re still rough around the edges.”

“I don’t mind. You’re knights are a lively bunch.” The two have the decency to look embarrassed.

“A bit too lively,” Riddle mutters. Letting out a sigh, he gestures to Yūki and Grim. “These two are esteemed guests.”

“That’s right! Me and my henchhuman are super important!” Grim boasts, crossing his short arms while puffing out his chest.

Yūki glances at you with an apology in their eyes. “Don’t go getting a big head, Grim,” they warn jokingly.

“Too late! His head is already huge,” Ace teases.

“My head’s normal sized!”

You hear Riddle sigh once more as he rubs his temples. It seems any talk about the proposal is over, but you don’t mind. With how lively everyone else is, things are bound to never be boring.

Your gaze once more turns to Yūki. They’re different from what you expect. Seeing them laugh without a care in the world reminds you about something in the book. In the story, Yūki does lament the fact that they won’t be able to travel anymore once they marry Malleus. They put their adventures on hold. You don’t remember the story ever saying that Yūki laughed in such a carefree way.

Meeting your intense stare, they regard you curiously. “Is there something wrong, your highness?”

You wave them off. “No. It just seems like you’re really close with everyone here…”

They nod eagerly. “The thing about adventuring is that you meet people from different backgrounds and walks of life. I enjoy adventuring for that very reason. I guess I can’t imagine staying in one place for too long when there’s places I still haven’t seen.”

“So, would you want to adventure your whole life?”

“Yes, that’s the goal!” Their grin is infectious.

As Deuce and Ace draw their attention away, you find yourself thinking. Seeing an enthusiastic Yūki and Grim compared to the more subdued versions in the story is so jarring. It’s almost like once the events of the story happen, all of Yūki’s personal dreams and goals get pushed to the back.

By now you’ve accepted your life as the queen. And perhaps with you here, the story has changed. Perhaps you don’t have to follow the story in order to live. A very selfish part of you doesn’t want to leave Briar Valley like you had originally planned. And maybe that’s okay.

As you watch the two adventures talk animatedly, you make a decision. You’ll figure out how to stop your parents your own way.

---

Returning to Briar Valley after a few days away, something has changed. It seems like Malleus has started following you around more. The moment you stepped out of the carriage, Malleus was there to greet you, which you thought was sweet. However, he’s started coming into your office for nothing in particular. He’ll sit in one of your chairs pretending to read whatever papers or book he’s brought with him. You can often feel him hovering, gaze following your every move. It’s like he’s watching and waiting for something to happen.

It’s much like how your parents were always watching you, and if they couldn’t monitor you, they had one of the maids do it. Like a bug under the microscope, you never had peace to yourself until you slept. By then, you were too tired to do anything more than just sleep.

It’s starting to get on your nerves. When you ask him what he wants, he simply says he doesn’t want anything. But you can tell he wants something! But he won’t tell you!

SNAP!

You blink as you stare down at the now broken pen in your hands. Black ink oozes out and drips onto the paper you were working on. Malleus immediately perks up from his spot across from your desk.

“Is everything alright?”

Letting out a long breath through your nose, you summon some magic to clean up the mess on your hand. The broken pen is tossed in the trash. “I’m fine,” you mutter, not looking up.

There’s a pause though you can feel him staring once more. Finding your spare pen, you crumble up the ruined papers. “It seems you’re upset,” he muses. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

“No,” you reply curtly.

Perhaps your tone is a bit too icy because when you look up, you can see the hurt in his gaze. Sighing, you lean forward and cover your face. “I… I didn’t mean to be snappy with you, Malleus. …Why are you hovering so much?”

There’s silence before he answers, “I missed you. Lilia said that if I missed you, I should spend more time with you.”

Looking up once more, you’re not sure what to say. You let out a dry chuckle. “I see… If you want to spend time together, just let me know. I don’t mind spending time together, I just don’t like you hovering.”

“I didn’t realize. I’m sorry,” he apologizes sincerely.

“I’m sorry too for not communicating with you better about this.” You sit back, body suddenly feeling tired. “I’ve spent a lot of my life being watched, and it wasn’t pleasant. I want to spend more time with you, but not like this.”

You glance at him tiredly. There’s a harshness in his gaze but it vanishes too quickly for you to fully understand. “I apologize for making you uncomfortable. It was never my intention.” He lowers his head, his lips are pressed in a firm line.

“I know.” He would never do anything to intentionally hurt you.

“Do you want to take a walk in the gardens?” he asks suddenly.

A break would do you some good. Following Malleus to the gardens, you stroll through the roses. Though the Queendom had lovely roses, there’s something about these roses that you like more.

He leads you to the center of the garden where you sit. You lean against his side, eyes closed, enjoying the fresh air. Malleus traces patterns on the palm of your hand. You sit like that for a while before Malleus breaks the silence.

“While you were away, I walked into your office wanting to see you. It made me realize how little time we spend together outside of our work. I’d like to spend more time with you doing things like this,” he admits.

You hum in agreement. “I’m always open to spending time together.”

Malleus weaves your fingers together with his. “Even if we don’t do anything?”

“Yes. Sitting here and enjoying each others’ company is enough.” Opening your eyes, you smile back at him. “I prefer this over you hovering.”

He nods. “I will keep that in mind. Perhaps next time I should be more clear with Lilia on my question…”

“Or you could ask me. Why not go to the source?” you suggest. It’ll save you from any miscommunication.

“Alright. I’ll come to you if I have any questions or concerns.” He chuckles as he squeezes your hand.

There’s a pause before you ask a question that’s been plaguing your mind for a while. “Why did you marry me? I don’t come from a country that can offer much, so it’s not like Briar Valley gained anything.”

Pulling away slightly, his brows crease. “Did your parents not tell you of the deal?”

“No. They just told me it was an honor to be marrying you.” They had told you nothing beyond that you were to marry a complete stranger. The glee in their gazes as they concocted their scheme to take over Briar Valley remains fresh in your mind.

He mutters something under his breath before shaking his head. “One of your ancestors from long ago sought out my grandmother for a blessing. Apparently their land was on the verge of collapse and my grandmother offered to bless the land once more. In exchange, they or their descendants would have to marry off their first born to her grandson. I wasn’t born then, but it seems grandmother already knew I would be eventually.”

You slowly process the information. “So essentially, it was just timing that it happened to be me?”

“My grandmother never really explained but when the time came, she told me I’d be marrying you.” He runs his thumb over your knuckles. “But I am glad it was you that I married.”

Your face warms as he gazes at you sincerely. “I’m glad too,” you manage to sputter out. Sometimes Malleus can say the sappiest things with a straight face. Yet, you know he’s always true to his feelings. It never fails to make your heart flutter.

Your gaze drops to his lips and stays there for a bit longer than you mean. You haven’t kissed him, and now you’re wondering how it would feel. You wonder if he would be a gentle kisser or would he bite at your lips with his sharp fangs. You wouldn’t mind either way…

Feeling your face warm at the sudden thoughts, you realize that Malleus has shifted a bit closer. Peering back at him, he watches you with half-lidded eyes. His usual bright eyes are dark with swirling emotions.

“Malleus…?” Your voice is barely a whisper.

He reaches up to stroke the right side of your face. He traces the curve of your jaw before gently grasping your chin. There’s a fire burning in his gaze as he leans closer. You stay completely still, barely daring to breathe.

His lips are inches away from you before he asks, “Can I?” His gaze flickers to meet yours.

You nod wordlessly and he-

“KING MALLEUS!” The voice that echoes through the garden causes you to jerk back in surprise. You almost stumble off the bench if not for Malleus’s quick reflexes as he steady’s you with a hand to the small of your back.

“Sebek, I don’t think you need to yell so loudly,” another voice admonishes with little heat.

Nervously clearing your throat, you quickly stand up. “Looks like your knights are looking for you.”

Warily turning in the direction of where the voices are coming from, his eyes narrow. “It would seem so.” He hands clench and unclench a few times before he stands. “I should go see what they want…”

“Right… See you later!” You make haste to leave before he can say anything else. You rush past Silver and Sebek on your way out of the garden.

“Your highness?” Silver calls to you, but you’re too busy running away to stop.

Face still warm, you can’t get the image out of your head. The way Malleus looked at you was like he wished to devour you whole. And you wouldn’t have minded.

---

The birthday party is as lavish as you could have imagined. A full orchestra plays music while guests mingle, eat food and dance. As guests arrive, they each approach Malleus to wish him a happy birthday. Presents are left in a different room as they’ll be opened later. Standing beside Malleus, you can feel your mouth aching as you politely smile at everyone that comes over.

Speaking of the birthday boy, he’s dressed impeccably in black silk accented by silver thread embroidery. His black mask is much like your own except the gems match the color of your eyes. His hair is slicked back though there are still a few stubborn strands that refuse to stay put. You can understand why he’s the love interest with how beautiful he is. Your heart did a weird flip when you saw him before the party.

“Are you alright?” Malleus asks once another guest leaves.

Meeting his gaze, you give a tired nod. “I didn’t realize how strenuous just greeting people can be.” From what you could remember, no one ever approached. You spent most parties trying to melt into the wall.

His lips turn slightly down in a frown. “You may rest if you wish. I can handle the guests.”

Shaking your head, you chuckle. “I’ll be fine. It seems like there aren’t too many more people coming.”

“If you’re sure…” He trails off as another guest arrives. This time, you recognize the guest as none other than the ruler of the Queendom of Roses, Riddle Rosehearts.

“Happy birthday and thank you for inviting me,” Riddle says, inclining his head in greeting. You admire the vibrant red mask he has. The design incorporates a subtle rose pattern.

Malleus greets him just as politely. “Thank you for coming, Rosehearts. We are both glad you’re able to come.”

With how many times he’s said the same thing, you can repeat everything word for word. “Is Yūki and Grim here?” you ask.

He shakes his head. “They went to the Coral Sea for something. They should be back in a week or so.”

“Oh…” You did want to speak with Yūki a bit more. You wanted to hear more about their adventures.

Riddle pauses as if wanting to say more. He shakes his head. “This is a celebration, so I will not bring up business. But perhaps we can meet again sometime. I’ll be in Briar Valley for a few more days.”

Nodding, you gesture for Diablo, who stands a bit away. His sharp eyes never miss anything. “Diablo, please discuss with his majesty when we can meet.”

“Of course, your grace.” To Riddle, he bows. “Please let me know when you would like to discuss scheduling, your highness.”

The redhead nods. “I’ll have one of my men reach out.” He turns to you with a smile. “It’s nice to see you again.”

As Riddle leaves, Malleus shifts closer to you. “It seems that the agreement with the Queendom is going smoothly.”

“Yes. Riddle Rosehearts is fair but has a firm hand.” He has his eccentricities, but from your conversations, he’s a good ruler. From the rumors you heard while in the Queendom, he’s loosened up a bit from when he first ascended the throne.

“You should come next time we’re invited to the Queendom of Roses,” you continue. “It’s a lovely place and so vibrant.”

“Do you prefer the Queendom to Briar Valley?” Malleus asks. The way he’s looking at you, you can almost hear sad puppy dog whines.

Biting your cheek to keep from laughing, you shake your head. “Of course not. The Queendom is different from Briar Valley. But Briar Valley will always be home because the people I care about are here.” And that’s the truth. You’ve come to like the people in Briar Valley. And though you won’t admit it aloud, you’ve come to like Malleus a lot more.

Before he can say anything else, a voice that sends chills down your spine breaks in. “Happy birthday, our dear son-in-law.”

Malleus turns to greet your parents as you try to contain your fear. Though you’ve only experienced them through old memories, your body involuntarily stiffens as you try to hide your shaking hands by clasping them behind your back.

“Duke and Duchess Wynters, thank you for coming,” you hear Malleus say. However, his voice becomes muffled as those old memories try to resurface. To outsiders, they look like a sweet older couple.

However, you know the truth. Their eyes are too cold. Their smiles filled with malice. Their hands are covered in your blood and the blood of others. Their hearts are darker than any ink and colder than ice. You force the memories that are trying to surface and adopt a neutral expression. You’re glad for once that you have a good poker face.

When you meet your father’s eyes, you almost forget to breathe. “Dear?” The sickeningly sweet way your mother calls to you fills your mouth with bile.

You managed to force a smile. “Mother, father, I’m glad you could make it.” As much as you didn’t want to, it would look suspicious if they weren’t invited.

“How could we miss our dear son-in-law’s birthday?” she chortles. “And we miss having you home. You haven’t been home at all since you got married. Your father and I are starting to think you don’t want to see us anymore.” She feigns hurt, but you know the truth.

You bow your head slightly. “I’m sorry. I’ve been so busy with everything that I didn’t realize how much time has passed. I promise to visit soon.”

“You should come too, Malleus,” your father says. “We’d be all too happy to host you for a few days.”

Digging your nails into the palm of your hand, you gently touch Malleus’s arm. “I think I will check in with Diablo,” you murmur.

Malleus nods though there’s worry in his eyes. “Of course. I will see you later.”

“Father, mother, if you’ll excuse me.” You force yourself to walk even though every fiber of your being wants to run.

When you’re out of their line of sight, you head outside to the garden. More guests mingle in the rose garden. Floating lights illuminate the garden making everything seem almost dream-like. Feeling the cool night air on your skin, you let out a big breath. The anxiety is still there, but at least you no longer feel like throwing up.

You didn’t think you’d have such a reaction to meeting the parents. You had memories, so you knew about the vile things they did to their own child. Yet, you had thought since you hadn’t seen them in awhile, things would be fine. But the moment you heard their voices, you lost all control.

Wandering away from the guests, you find a secluded area of the gardens. It’s quiet though the music from inside drifts faintly by. Taking off the mask, you breathe deeply for a bit. If you can avoid them for the rest of the party, you should be fine.

After a few more minutes alone, you decide to return. However as you turn to go back, something catches your eye. In the low light, it looks to be a rope of sorts. You reach down to pick it up but when your hand brushes against the rope, it moves.

You let out a startled gasp as a voice from the bushes grumbles, “You’re either brave or a fool for trying to touch my tail.”

The bushes rustle before a figure sits up. You stare wide eyed at the sleepy-eyed guest. His cat-like ears twitch as he regards you with annoyance. “Are ya gonna just stare at me with that stupid look on your face or apologize?” He glares at you as he pulls himself up and out of the bushes. His mask is nowhere to be seen.

Finding your words, you raise an eyebrow. “Well if you didn’t just leave your tail hanging around, I wouldn’t have mistaken it for something else. Maybe don’t go napping in other people’s bushes,” you bite back.

His eyebrow twitches but you can see the way his emerald green eyes light up. “Heh… you’re a brave one to be speakin’ to me like this.”

Standing up straight, you regard him coolly. “You speak so freely for being one of my husband’s guests, Prince Leona.”

You remember him now as he came with King Falena of the Sunset Savanna. He barely gave Malleus a glance before stalking off, though his nephew immediately ran after him. You’re pretty sure he didn’t even notice you as he seemed to want to get away as quickly as possible. You had read about Beastmen in the books, but this is your first time meeting them.

Leona was decked out in brightly patterned material that showed off both his lean physique and the wealth of the nation. The deep reds and turquoise complemented the gold mask that hung at his hip.

He scratches his ear nonchalantly. “So, you’re the one married to the lizard. Huh… you’re not what I expected.”

“And what did you expect?” You tilt your head to the side. He has a few leaves still stuck in his hair. Your hand twitches but you resist the urge to remove them.

He smirks. “A weak little herbivore. But it seems you actually have a spine.”

You feel your own eye twitch and his smirk grows wider. “So, what were you doing in the bushes?” you ask, changing the subject before you decide to do something un-royalty like.

Yawning, Leona stretches. “I was trying to take a nap.” He notices you’re staring at him intensely. “What are you looking at?”

Pointing to your head, you gesture around. “You have some leaves stuck in your hair.” He lazily swipes at his head but it does absolutely nothing. “No, you missed! No, no, a little more to the left.”

Grunting, he gives up. “Why do you take them off for me, huh?” He leans closer with a wicked glint in his eyes.

“Honestly…” You know you shouldn’t since you’re a queen and all, but the leaves are bothering you. Reaching up, you gently pick the leaves out of his hair. His hair is surprisingly soft to the touch. “Done!”

Looking up, his face is much too close. “Thanks, herbivore.” Your cheeks suddenly feel warm as his gaze doesn’t leave your face. His eyes are hooded as he watched you like you’re some kind of prey.

“…”

“There you are.” Whatever spell Leona had you under breaks as Malleus steps forward. You move away to a more respectable distance from the second prince.

The look on Leona’s face could kill a man. He scowls as Malleus places his hands on your shoulder. “Kingscholar, it’s nice to see you again.”

Leona mutters, “Whatever. I’m heading back inside.” He walks off without another word. Seems he can’t stand being in Malleus’s presence for even a second.

“He left in a hurry,” Malleus muses.

Taking Malleus’s hand, you ask, “Did you need something?”

“I was just wondering where you wandered off to.” He glances at the direction Leona left. “You seemed to be very close to Kingscholar…”

“I found him napping in the bushes. He had some leaves in his hair, so I was just helping him get them out.” You chuckle when you notice the slight pout on his lips.

“Hmm… I see.” Sometimes he can be quite childish.

Deciding to distract him, you lead him to a back entrance to the palace. “I know it’s early, but I do have a birthday gift I wanted to give you.”

That perks him up. “You didn’t have to get me anything.”

“Of course I have to. And since you weren’t much help in figuring out what to get you, I had to do a lot of thinking.” You lead him to the kitchen, which is empty. “Stay there.” Finding what you’re looking for, you bring over a plate that holds a miniature cake.

He stares at the cake. “...”

Slicing the cake in half, you hand him a fork. “Just try it.”

Malleus hesitantly takes a piece. You watch as his confused expression melts into shock. “Ice cream?!”

Grinning, you nod vigorously. “Yup! It’s an ice cream cake. The pastry chef helped me make it since I’ve never done it before. It took a few tries but we got it eventually. I used some ice magic to keep it from melting.”

He chuckles as he sets his fork down. “You know I don’t like whole cakes, but you played quite a trick on me.”

Taking a bite of your own slice, you’re surprised how tasty it actually is. “I thought a small one wouldn’t be so bad, and one filled with ice cream sounds even better. You don’t have to eat cake alone, Malleus.” You set the plate down on the table. “You have Lilia and your retainers. You have Diablo and the rest of the staff, who would love to share with you. And you have me.”

Reaching for his hand, you give it a gentle squeeze. He leans forward pressing his forehead against yours. “Thank you for the present. And thank you for being here with me.”

You recall your almost kiss in the gardens two weeks ago. Not quite brave enough, you gently grasp either side of his face. Moving back, you meet his tender gaze. You press a kiss to his forehead; his breath hitches. The scale markings on his forehead are cool to the touch. Pulling away, you watch as the apples of his cheeks slowly turn red. It spreads to his ears as he stands there frozen.

He doesn’t speak and you wonder if you broke him. “Malleus?”

Blinking a few times, the red has faded away. It’s honestly cute how the tips of his ears are still red. “Can I…can I kiss you?” he asks.

Heart thumping in your chest, you nod. No interruption this time.

You move your arms to drape around his shoulders as he grasps the side of your face. Leaning closer, you admire his long lashes. Closing your eyes, you feel his lips brush against your like a whisper. Then a little more firmly. His lips glide against yours in a sweet and hesitant kiss. He smells like magic, old parchment, and ink. He spends so much time working, you’re not surprised the smell has seeped into his very being.

He pulls away all too soon. He stares at you with the same look as in the gardens. He wants to swallow you whole. His hands have drifted to your waist as he hesitates to make another move.

You’re not quite done with him. “Come here,” you mumble before dragging him back for a better kiss.

You lead him in the kiss. It’s not hesitant as your mouth moves against his. You nibble at his lower lip before giving him a nice, sharp bite. He grunts before you soothe the sting with your tongue. His body shudders. You slip your tongue into his mouth causing his grip on your waist to tighten. Your fingers play the hair at the nape of his neck, twirling the strands around your finger and gently tugging. Your heart feels like it's going to beat out of your chest as your lungs beg for air.

Finally, you pull away with a gasp. Your face feels hot. He breathes heavily as he holds you flush against his body. Meeting his gaze, his pupils are blown wide. He licks his lips as he regards you. A pleasant shiver runs down your spine when you see his sharp canines glint in the light. You wonder again what it would feel like if he were to bite you.

He leans close again. “Can I have another?” he asks in a hoarse whisper. You’re all too eager to agree.

---

The party goes on long into the early mornings. After your alone time with Malleus, you both returned hand-in-hand. Thankfully it seems the guests are all too tipsy to even notice the birthday boy had disappeared. Only Sebek, Silver and Lilia notice. The green haired half-fae frets over where his master went. Lilia has a devilish smile on his lips while he gives you both a knowing look.

Malleus bids the guests goodnight, though the party continues. You’re about to follow when your parents stop you. Your grip on Malleus’s hand tightens for a second, but you quickly try to relax.

You smile as sweetly as possible. “Is there something you need?”

Duke Wynter picks off invisible lint on his jacket. “Your mother and I have something to discuss with you, dear.”

Glancing over at Malleus, you want to tell them to fuck off. However, you know you can’t. “Diablo, can you bring my parents to my study?”

“Of course, your majesty.”

As he leads them away, you turn to Malleus. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Of course.” He leans forward and kisses your forehead. Your face grows warm at the gesture. His eyes sparkle as he smiles, amused. “Goodnight.’’

Letting out a deep sigh, you head to your study. Diablo is there waiting at the door. “You may leave, Diablo.”

“Your grace…?”

“You don’t have to stay. I’m just having a chat with my parents.” You offer a too bright smile.

The old butler hesitates before giving a bow. “As you wish. Goodnight, your highness.”

Stepping into the study, you close the doors. Your parents are busy looking around. Walking over, you square your shoulders. “What did you want to talk about?”

Your body tenses before your brain can process the pain.

SMACK!

Your mask flies off and clatters to the ground. The force of the backhanded slap causes your ears to ring. The left side of your cheek throbs painfully and a metallic taste fills your mouth. You stare at the ground blankly.

“You idiot!” your father hisses. “What did you tell the king!?”

You count backwards in your head from five before answering, still keeping your eyes on the ground, “I don’t know what you mean, father.”

He scoffs. “The war with the Queendom of Roses! We were supposed to have a war with them!”

You had almost forgotten about that. “I thought that making a deal for resources would be more beneficial. The land would have been otherwise destroyed beyond repair if a war broke out. It would be useless to you, father.”

The man paces back and forth. “We could’ve expanded our territory…”

Your mother’s shoes come into view. She grabs your face, tilting your head up so she can stare into your eyes. She squeezes your cheeks together and digs her nails into your skin. Your cheek hurts even more. “Oh, our silly, dumb child,” she tuts, clicking her tongue. “You don’t need to think. Just do what we have instructed and leave the rest to us.”

Her cold, sharp eyes gaze at you with disgust. She releases her hold. “Come, dear, no need to be agitated. We can always start a war after everything is complete.”

Your father stops pacing and sighs. “You're right.” He glares at you. “Stick to the plan,” he orders. You recoil when his hand raises, but by some miracle he decides not to hit you again.

The two brush past you. “Make you sure you heal that unsightly face,” your mother calls. “We don’t want anyone to get the wrong impression, do we?”

The door to the study opens and then closes with a thud. Staring at the wall, you fall to your knees. Hand resting lightly on your cheek, you run on autopilot as you heal it. There are many memories of something similar to this happening. And each time you’re left to tend to yourself.

You can’t tell Malleus. Not yet. If you reveal your parents’ plans, they’ll make sure to bring you down with them. You’re not sure how Malleus would react if he finds out you were trying to control him. Anyone in their right mind would be upset if they found out the truth. He might be understanding, but you’re pretty sure Lilia and the others wouldn’t be.

And there’s still the issue of the weapon. In the story, your parents find a dagger that can kill anyone, including a being as strong as Malleus. Yūki is able to get their hands on the dagger before it can be used. Yet, the story never explains where or how your parents got this magical dagger. It also glossed over how Yūki was able to get it. You need to find out.

So even as your body shakes, you’re determined to take them down.

Tag list: @candlewitch-cryptic, @whatstheoccasion, @nimko, @yo4sblog, @mc-cos-charm, @mochiclouds, @41sh4

#twst imagines #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland imagines #malleus Draconia #twst malleus #malleus draconia x f!reader #malleus x f!reader #reader insert #scenario

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silver-is-here-now · 1 year

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FIONNA AND CAKE PLOT PREDICTION TIME BABY

SO I was talking to my pal and with the context of the new image released today, I once again got to pondering what the heck this show could be about.

Here’s some things we know:

Fionna talks about how she feels like life should be magical

Cake has been acting weird lately

The world has been glitching

We see a Cake that’s a normal cat, and a cake like the one we know.

We also know whoever the villain is, they’re trying to erase them from existence.

AND the time room is hinted to be important, even being shown in the title card.

My theory is that I think someone made a wish to remove all magical/post-apocalyptic qualities from Fionna and Cake’s dimension. Once upon a time they were just a gender swapped version of Finn and Jake’s world, and now they’re not. The “glitches” are the little broken pieces left behind.

Everyone’s depressed and feels like something’s missing because something is. Their world was suddenly changed.

Basically, I predict that when they left their dimension, Fionna and Cake broke the spell placed on them, reverting them and their memories to how it was before the wish. And now they’re trying to defeat this villain before they do this to more dimensions. The villain is following them and trying to erase them so they stop their meddling.

This brings me to the photo released today.

This frame looks like it’s in the same episode that we see “Ice Simon” in, as well as the first bit of animation we saw.

In the first photo, we see the same ice cream world again. In the photo with Simon, we see those two new characters skating around the piano.

Based on the premise of the series, it seems like this is an alternate dimension. Perhaps one where Simon and Ice King are the same, and he’s a jolly, fun loving ruler of ice cream and music!

But then why are they there?

Well, if our villain attempted to wipe out magic in Fionna and Cake’s dimension, then who is to say that they won’t do the same in other dimensions?

This dimension could possibly represent everything Fionna and Cake wants, but to an ever greater extreme than classic Ooo does: a world that utterly embraces magic and adventure. So they could be there to protect this dimension from meeting the same fate that their world has.

So, to sum it all up…

Fionna and Cake could be about our titular heroes escaping the demagification from our new Big Bad, while also protecting other dimensions from meeting the same fate. Simon could tag along, but perhaps he will find himself at odds with himself. Will our new villain even turn him against Fionna and Cake? After all, magic and the mushroom war has drastically changed his life, causing him to suffer for over a thousand years.

Is he now prepared to allow other universes to suffer from magic, madness, and sadness the same way he has?

But, who knows.

After all we know next to nothing about this series, and I’m overanalyzing a one-minute trailer.

I hope you all liked this theory!

#fionna and cake #Simon Petrikov #adventure time #ice king

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swaps55 · 21 days

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So I like mass depression apparently and have to ask about some dark multiverse timelines. Take the ME3 Citadel Coup showdown and Kaidan ends up getting shot. How would Sam cope? Now there's zero chance he'd pull the trigger as he'd always choose Kaidan over the universe but how would his relationship be affected with whoever would pull the trigger. If it was Edi, would it negatively affect how Sam treats the Geth on Rannoch? Would James get kicked off the ship (and pissibly most likely by Garrus)?

With the Opus universe I struggle to see Liara or Garrus doing it but this is a dark timeline so maybe Garrus tries to snipe past him and missed...er...um... at least missed the intended target.

Ooooooh, some fun questions here to ponder.

You're right. Sam would never pull that trigger, under any circumstance. (The fact that deep down, under the direst of circumstances, Kaidan might be able to is a whole other fun thought exercise.)

If any of Sam's squad were to step up and do it, you want me to shock you? I think it would be Garrus. Garrus is the least aware of just how important Kaidan is to Sam. (He knows, but he doesn't get it the way Liara or Tali do.) He's the most likely to take matters into his own hands.

I don't see EDI doing it, as she hasn't ever demonstrated any desire to override the decisions of others, and my version of EDI and Sam have a pretty powerful dynamic. Though I suppose it's possible she would interfere and do what she thought she had to prevent Sam from being rendered non-functional.

Would he blame the geth? No. Sam has inherent biases like anyone else, but on the whole he's always been pretty good and not blaming an entire group for the actions of a few individuals. He doesn't have warm fuzzies about batarians, but he also doesn't hate every batarian he sees because of what happened to his father or at Torfan.

But regardless of who is responsible for Kaidan's death, Sam would walk away. The fate of the galaxy is now someone else's problem. He's given everything he has, and the galaxy took the one thing he couldn't give, so the galaxy will get nothing more from him.

Would he leave a wake of destruction on his way out? Probably. But then you'd probably never hear from him again. He and EDI would just set a course for a distant star and see how far they could get.

If you really want Dark Side!Sam, I think you can get him during the events of ME2/Mezzo, but the path to get there involves some spoilers.

I have listened to this song a lot, thinking about the darker road Sam could have taken.

#swaps replies #jdijwa-blog #'shoot it again sam' shepard

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codenamesazanka · 4 months

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Yeah I had my doubts about Deku from the moment Uraraka was like "I've been pondering what Toga said, the things that made her who she is today, her actions against society but also the way society let her down to begin with, our role as heroes, if the way we're handling this is really the correct way just because we call her a villain" and all Deku could say to her was "yeah, when the plot shoved an image of Shigaraki crying as a child in my mind I suddenly realized that the person who has been pointing out the obvious flaws in our society from day on might be a victim if I pretend he's still a crying child"

I'm not saying that Uraraka is the best or anything but she's really coming in clutch by... doing the bare minimum, especially compared to other characters

Uraraka did the best out of any of the saving 'trio'!!!! (quartet if we want to count Shoji???) Even from the very start, when Toga ambushed Uraraka during the PLF War Arc, Uraraka is the only one to feel unforced, natural sympathy for Toga. She had no family ties or blood connection to Toga; she wasn't given a psychic vision of an innocent and hurt child; their clash wasn't demanded by fate; and she wasn't put on the other side of an 'Issue' like Quirk Counseling. Uraraka really just took a good look at Toga, noticed she was crying, and that started her journey in questioning the dynamics between Hero and Villain.

None of those connections are bad per se, but they do create an obligation Heroes have towards the Villain and gives them an incentive to help. Shouto needs to help Dabi because they're brothers; Shoji needed to stop the heteromorphs because their group reputation is at stake; and Deku had the convoluted AFOFA business. Uraraka had no incentive. She did not need to even think about Toga after their encounter, but she did! She went out of her way to do so.

And the resolution was on point! It actually solved Toga's problem. Toga feared that she wasn't seen as human, that her blood drinking will never be accepted, that no one will ever return her affections because they're unnatural. So here's Uraraka saying that, no, she is human, she will give blood, she accepts Toga's method of affections. Through Uraraka's journey, it's consistent - she said at the beginning she didn't know what was normal for Toga, that she didn't realize Toga was a person.

Her origin of smiles fitted with Toga's smiling too - Ochako wanted to be a hero because she wanted people to be happy; she became Toga's hero when she made Toga happy by accepting that happiness can look different to Toga, due to her quirk and background and it doesn't necessarily mean it's evil.

She even later says that 'all the signs were there from the beginning' but she didn't noticed them, so she acknowledge her role in all this!

I mean, I still have issues with how quirk counseling and abuse wasn't addressed. And Uraraka did actually wait until the last minute to address Toga - she only started to tell Toga she wanted to talk about love when Toga was in danger of warping away from her. It is the bare minimum. But the primary issue of 'Toga wasn't seen as human' was indeed addressed with 'Uraraka said her smile was cute (human)'. It worked.

Meanwhile, Deku's saving of Tenko is a mess. At first it seemed like Tenko's problem was 'my family and people on the streets were bystanders to my pain, what the fuck. why did no one help me," and the story made hints towards having civilians be more pro-active and stop relying on Heroes so much; but then nvm. That gripe Tenko had is never addressed by Deku. The Walk apparently never happened and never left a scar on Tenko's psyche. No problem there!

Instead, Tenko's problem became 'I think I'm evil because I was born with Decay, who could validate my existence the way I am, wow I'm full of self-loathing and all my anger is actually me projecting it out.' and Deku was able to swoop in to solve part of the problem by, true, validating Tenko's existence by holding his hands, but never actually saying anything about Decay or the accident or anger. Guess Tenko just has to live with the fact that maybe he is evil, but it's nice of Deku to still accept him. But then it doesn't matter anyways because AFO was behind everything.

Just. Deku-Shigaraki/Tenko storyline was so long and so convoluted and so bizarre and never felt sincere. And so we ended up with 'I just saved The Crying Child but now I will pummel the body the Crying Child inhabits without care for what happens afterwards because AFO took it over and I'm over the saving thing and so if Tenko/Shigaraki dies because I smashed his body to pieces, well, he was unforgivable anyways. see ya."

#nalslastworkingbraincell

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blimbo-buddy · 9 months

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Twolegplace Folktales: A Molly Named Johnny

Often, some of the folktales and fictional stories spread around Twolegplace to Twolegplace originated not from the UK, but from places far beyond the ocean. Songs of heroes and villains, epics of the protagonist's journey to save something or someone, poems pondering the nature of life through fictional scenarios.

But sometimes, these stories are not about some great journey, or philosophical questions, but rather something as simple as the land around the cats, or the other individuals they may meet, or maybe even the meeting of a cat and a Demonio. One such story is one that goes by many names, "The Demonio and the Fiddler", "The Molly's Fiddle", but the most well-known title of the story is "A Molly Named Johnny".

Cats who came from beyond the sea, from other lands, were the ones who brought the folktale with them onto the ships. This folktale was one of many that caught the ears and attention of many cats, each passing down the tale to the next, and on and on. The plot since then will differ depending on which Twolegplace you visit, some tell of different fates for the characters and some even add new characters. However, the rough summary of the plot is;

A Demonio had wandered the countryside, heart aching for a soul to snatch and add to its collection, it was a trickster and a clever one at that. It stood on two legs and where it's front paws would be was replaced with grotesque, human hands. It's trick was to fool a cat into a fiddling contest, knowing of a feline's lack of proper thumbs to grasp anything, it always won. One dawn, it stumbled upon a lit up barn, bustling with feline life and joy and cheer. And in that barn was music from instruments, but not just any instrument, a fiddle.

It calmly waltzed to the barn, the ceilings decorated with lights and cats eating and drinking the night away, but the fiddle had stopped playing when it reached the barn doors and the Demonio could not figure who was playing it. Cats froze as they laid their eyes onto the Demonio, and it called out, demanding the presence of whoever played the fiddle. Silence filled the air, until a scruffy old molly-cat took a step out from the backstage of the barn and responded back to the stranger. The Demonio offered a deal to the molly-cat, if she could beat them in a fiddling contest, she would get a beautiful golden fiddle. But if she lost, her soul was theirs and they would come back to the barn every year to take a new soul. The air was still, but the molly-cat puffed up in pride and called out, "Well then, my name's Johnny and I'll gladly take your deal, Demonio!"

And so, the Demonio summoned a case out of thin air and pulled out their golden fiddle. They drew the bow along the strings with a horrible hiss and began to play a fast, screeching, but highly impressive song. They scratched the bow along the strings so harshly that smoke seeped from it and into the air, but ol' Johnny didn't give much care. The Demonio finished, and Johnny was impressed, but she gave a smirk, grabbed her old fiddle, and said, "Let ol' Johnny show you how it's done!". She put her entire heart into her song, each note came from a place that didn't demand attention or praise, but lovingly played for no audience, only herself. She finished, and the Demonio was impressed at her ability to be able to handle a fiddle. The Demonio was a trickster, but they were fair. They put their hands up and admitted Johnny's victory, handing her the golden fiddle, but she declined. She didn't need a fiddle of pure gold, all ol' Johnny wanted to do was entertain and play her old fiddle for the barn. The Demonio was humbled, but accepted Johnny's rejection. And they left with a bow, never to be seen by Johnny or the barn ever again. Johnny cleared her throat, waltzed up onto the stage, and simply began playing her fiddle once more.

Changes to the story often seen

Johnny being portrayed as more egotistical and prideful. In some endings of the story, this Johnny does accept the golden fiddle

The meeting of Johnny and the Demonio being just between the two instead of meeting in the crowded barn

The Demonio implied to previously visit the barn to snatch another soul, to which Johnny put an end to

Tied in to the last one; Johnny's mother or father being one of the Demonio's victims. Characters who never showed up in the old story

The appearances of Johnny and the Demonio in the original story are left as vague as possible, however many versions will often describe Johnny and the Demonio

Adding on; A few popular versions of Johnny's appearance is a brown tabby, an orange tabby, or a tortie

Johnny having six toes on her paws which in some explanations within these stories, "Gave her a better grip on the fiddle"

The Demonio being accompanied by other Demonios to aid in their favor

Conclusion

A Molly Named Johnny is one of fiction, cats cannot properly hold a fiddle as I'm sure we know. However, some cats cite the folktale as being one that gives them bravery to face against a challenge that frightens them. Some also use the folktale as a message that a cat can use a Demonio's own tricks against them if the situation calls for it. Johnny, to many, is a hero. One who stood up to a Demonio and defeated them, one who did not back down or feel fear in the presence of one, something that so many cats wish they could be.

#blimbo rambles #blimmy art #wc #warrior cats #wc rewrite #blimbo's twolegplace culture #the devil went down to georgia: warrior cats edition

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baddybaddyadardaddy · 4 days

Text

a knife in the dark

[adar/oc]

This is a slightly unhinged WIP AU for my longfic, Awake, Arise or Be For Ever Fall'n. Highly recommend (ask/beg/implore) you to read at last the first like, 8 chapters of that first or you'll be... um... maybe a lil confused? PREMISE: Erenyë is reembodied in Valinor, but Mandos shrouds her memories of Utumno, hoping to spare her pain in her new life. But she is restless in Aman, sensing that something is missing... She boards a ship heading for Middle Earth, hoping to discover just what that is. [DON'T @ ME ON REINCARNATION MECHANICS, THIS IS PURELY A NONSENSE DRABBLE THING THAT WILL HOPEFULLY EVENTUALLY LEAD TO SMUT BUT MORE REALISTICALLY WILL JUST BE A LOT OF RIP-YOUR-HEART-OUT ANGST BECAUSE APPARENTLY THAT'S ALL I DO HERE. 🫠 ]

She makes her voyage on an elven ship that is nearly empty.

Why would you go across the sea, the other elves ask her, mouths agape, in the days before her departure. Bliss lies here in the West—you will find little comfort on the shores of Middle Earth.

Erenyë cannot answer them, cannot explain why the eastern expanse calls her so. She has heard many among the eldar who made passage home from the Hither Lands speak of the sea-longing that precipitated their journey—but this feels like something even stronger, a yearning for a place, yes, but something more… something that she cannot name.

Whatever it is, she surmises it must be the reason she has never felt quite at home in Valinor, even surrounded by her Noldoran kindred, the ones who had remained after the terrible kinslaying of old.

As she watches the waves pound against the sharply angled bow, wind whipping through her hair, she speaks a silent promise to the waiting horizon: I am coming.

...

The tides of fate flow, and the sea is treacherous.

Their vessel is beset by perilous storms that rage by day and night, and no prayer to Ulmo seems capable of assuaging them. Their instruments fail, and the gale proves too powerful to hold their northward course to Lindon.

She asks how far off course the storm has flung them.

Toward the Southlands is the answer.

...

They make port in an abandoned Numenorean harbor that the captain calls Pelargir, and it is here that Erenyë takes her first steps into Middle Earth.

The landscape is lush and green, and different from Valinor—for it strikes her as more rugged and wild than the place from which she’d come. The climate is temperate and the air is moist, the trees here are massive, with thick trunks and sprawling branches, growing as they do only in Oromë’s woods across the sea. The forest calls to her—as all forests do—and she wanders eagerly toward the treeline, ready to lose herself in this new world.

But she is stopped by raised voices as a party of men emerges from the woods with warning. They are downtrodden, starving and traumatized, bearing the scars of war and disaster. In due course she learns that they have fled their homeland, several leagues to the east and over the mountains.

With terror-laced voices, they speak of a fire mountain, lately awakened, belching fire and cloud so high that it swallows the sunlight, rendering the land a waste, overrun by orcs. They answer to a single leader, the men tell her—a villain who calls himself Adar.

....

Adar.

It is a perplexing name for a servant of darkness, an elvish word.

She ponders the mystery late into the night, after the newly established encampment falls still. The elves had wasted no time in offering aid to the refugees, and Erenyë had done her part, though the forest still calls to her, insistent.

She considers going off alone, but the threat of orcs roaming the hills seeking captives to return to this Adar gives her pause. She knows enough of orcs to understand that the safest time to move through their lands is in daylight, and though she has never encountered one, memories of the stories that had reached her ears in Valinor, and the accounts of the Southlanders strike a deep chord of fear within her breast. She passes the night restless, yearning to roam.

At dawn, a small party of elves from the ship sets off toward the mountains, and Erenyë accompanies them eagerly, taking up a sword and dagger from one of the men who had not survived the night. The elven leader, Telemnion, tells them they must discover as much as they can about Adar and his legions so that a report can be sent north with all speed to High King Gil-glad.

They set a northeastern course that takes them up steep hills as they near the borders of the Southlands. As the day wanes, she catches the scent of smoke upon the air—ash and scorched pine, the smell of instantaneous destruction. Without warning, she doubles over, bracing herself with one hand against the nearest tree, retching.

“Are you well, Erenyë?” Telemnion hurries to her side, his eyes wide with concern.

In truth, she cannot say why the smell affects her so—she only has the keen sense of having experienced it before.

Her mind is filled with visions of ruined land—even before they emerge from the trees on a high precipice just before nightfall and see the blackened remains of the Southlands for themselves—and she knows that the visions are not simply abstractions. They feel like memories.

But it does not make sense—there had been no destruction of that kind in Valinor. Yet as they stop to rest, she cannot shake the sensation of touching ruined ground: of trailing her fingers over blackened, hollow trees, over the bleached bones of dead animals, over ash-laden earth.

As day gives way to night, she watches the skies above turn color. It is not the natural, blue-black of a peaceful night, but a wicked orange glow, cast by flames and smoke. It is yet another strangely familiar sight, and it fills her with blackest dread.

...

Several nights later, they are attacked by a band of orcs.

They are far outnumbered, and Telemnion cries out to them, telling them to run. With a pounding heart, Erenyë flies as fast as she can through the trees. When she’s confident there is enough distance between herself and the skirmish, she climbs, seeking for the safety of the upper branches of a great oak tree.

In the distance, she sees torches gleaming, and the sound of orc horns pierces the night air. She hugs the trunk of the tree, pressing her body close as though hoping it might open and absorb her into the safety of its bark as the orc army presses closer.

They are chanting something in unison—something that sounds victorious—and it is not long before they are close enough for her to understand it.

Adar… Adar… Adar…

The orcs continue their advance toward her tree. She considers climbing down and fleeing, but the chant soon falls silent, and the flickering torches stop moving.

A new voice fills the air.

It is low and husky, speaking the guttural language of the enemy. She cannot understand a word, but she tips her ear toward it, for there is something, some phantom quality about it that she cannot place. The trees are close in the glen, and with great care, she makes her way from one to the next, sidling toward the voice.

The orc army comes into view, and she can see their leader standing before them. His back is toward her—she can see only his silhouette against the torchlight. He is tall and slender—strangely elven, compared to the other orcs, the majority of whom are stooped and stocky. His presence is commanding, though he does not raise his voice beyond what is required to adequately fill the clearing.

He finishes his address with what is clearly a command for the uruks to set up camp, for they break out into groups, busying themselves with assembling tents and unfurling bedrolls.

Adar, for his part, watches the flurry of activity, then retreats into the shadows of the treeline. He is outside the torchlight now, but Erenyë follows his shape in the dark as it moves deeper into the forest. Keeping a safe distance, she scrambles down from her tree, closing her hand around the dagger she carries. Her heart begins to thrum again, pounding with a mixture of intrigue and terror.

He weaves gracefully through the trees, making no sound. There is something about his bearing that seems ancient, as though he is a part of the old forest itself and she creeps closer, fearing that at any moment, he might be swallowed by the trees, absorbed into them.

Dawn is breaking when he pauses in a clearing, and she realizes that the trees around them have started to thin, their leaves charred. The scent of smoke is stronger here, and with a soundless gasp, she discovers that they have reached the line of the fire-mountain’s destruction.

He kneels down, and she is struck by how suddenly small he appears. The sight of his silhouette stirs something in her—something that originates from that same place of strange recollection.

Why, her heart cries in anguish, does he seem familiar?

Without a thought, she steps closer.

He is crouched beside a green sapling that the fire had somehow spared, fingering the delicate leaves with a reverent—almost loving—tenderness.

She takes another step, disturbing the ground in her wake. A twig snaps beneath her foot; his head whips around toward the sound, and she flies at him, unsheathing her dagger with a cry.

They collide, tussling in the ashes. Erenyë scrambles and struggles with all her might until she lands on top with a dagger to his throat, gasping to reclaim the wind that was knocked out of her in their skirmish. His face comes together in her field of view: grey, mottled skin, covered in scars, thin lips, and shockingly deep, green eyes. She loses herself in them for a moment, as she steps seemingly out of time itself, spellbound by their depths. Her heart accelerates, threatening to batter itself out of its cage within her chest. She leans closer, bearing down on the dagger that is still pressed against the flesh of his neck.

He draws in a sharp breath as the blade bites into his skin, drawing a few drops of black blood. His eyes close, and his exhale is a soft moan, she presumes of pain, but she recognizes it as excitement, somehow. Pleasure.

She squeezes own her eyes shut, striving to steady herself, for it seems as though the ground itself is now swaying beneath her. She feels it again—the familiarity, the certainty that she has heard that sound before—no, not just heard it, she has been the cause of it.

He is no longer struggling—his body is languid beneath her, boneless. She clenches her teeth, confused, weighing her next move. He is the enemy; he and his army are responsible for the fire-mountain, for the destruction of the forest, for the torment of the Southlanders. She should let the dagger finish its work—drag it across his throat, spill the rest of his black blood here upon the ashen ground.

He murmurs something, something in a language that sounds like elvish, but it is older: an archaic form—one that she has only ever seen preserved on ancient scrolls. A dream, this is a dream, he rasps over and over, in that same low, husky tone that sends a shiver rolling down her spine, but not one borne entirely of fear.

The sound of the ancient language comforts her. Inexplicably, she thinks of stars, and the sound of water falling gently over stone.

She feels him shift and opens her eyes, preparing to defend herself. But he does not attack—instead, his hands seek for her hips, sinking softly into her flesh as he drags in another quaking breath. He wears an iron gauntlet on one hand, and it digs into her side, stopping just on the edge of pain.

Her stomach roils at the sight of this creature, this thing, this orc touching her, but her skin tingles beneath his fingers, even through her tunic.

She lets the dagger drag another quarter of an inch across his throat—she isn’t sure if she intends it to be a warning or an invitation—and he groans again. Tremors roll steadily through her body now; she feels she is dancing on the edge of a dangerous precipice, and she does not know whether to seek for safety or let herself fall into it.

He opens his mouth, and breathes a single word:

“Erenyë…”

Fear wins out—the sound of his name upon her tongue sends an earthquake through her body and she moves automatically out of shock and terror. With a strangled yell, she yanks the dagger into the air. He tries to rise, but she is too quick, slamming the butt of it against his temple—hard.

He falls back, unconscious, and she clamps a hand over her mouth to stop the scream that threatens to break free.

tagging @catz4ever @toddthekiwibird @eowyn7023 HERE YA GO MY FELLOW BADDYDADDY BRIGADERS

Read part 2 | part 3

#adar #adar fic #i cannot believe episode 5 unhinged me to the point of AU-ing my own damn AU but HERE WE FUCKING ARE I GUESS #anyway this is more or less the PG backstory #spice to come #hopefully #anyway it's your standard issue memory wipe fic with a side of knifeplay #enjoy it if that's your thing #i absolutely did zero editing on this #YOLO #posting it before i lose my nerve #in honor of KnifeKink week

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