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shirophantomvox · 4 years ago

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What Would a Card Game with Hisoka Be Like? Hisoka x S/O

This is part 2 to my previous headcanon post about how to get the Adult Trio to blush. Check it out now!

Hello anon and thank you for this wonderful ask! Your question is very unique because it asks about card-playing and Hisoka. I’ll be honest, I have never thought about Hisoka actually playing a card game but since it is a part of his aesthetic, I’m sure it’s possible. You and I are wondering the same thing…how would a card game go with him? How would Hisoka enjoy a night at a Casino? He’d love it! The thrill of intense game playing, stupid wagers, and fancy hotels with beds as soft as the clouds?! I mean, he has stated before that he learned card tricks from his mother. I used “lady” in here as a context filler just to make the story but anyone can insert themselves in this story. As usual, I have to incorporate fluff in here somewhere. Say no more! Buckle up, people; we are about to go on a fast ride to satisfaction-Ville.

♠️ Tonk, survival of the fittest ♠️

It is common knowledge that playing cards are Hisoka’s strength. I’m not sure if he knows how to play cards or if he only uses them as weapons. Either way, he somehow perfects his moves. Sometimes playing a game of cards with him are loads of fun and sometimes they turn into heated and naughty dares session if one loses a certain amount of rounds.

Headcanon 1: Hisoka is the king at bluffing. He’ll say anything to pressure you into dropping your hand on the table. Don’t be surprised if he expresses how he’ll cater to your every whim if you drop your hand in an instant, but do not fall for it!

Headcanon 2: Drama makes him full; more than oatmeal. He’ll talk about how horrible you are at card games and that you move slowly like an old person just to make you angry so you can quit at the game. He often gives you the evilest glares from across the table. Sometimes they can be so bone-chilling that you turn your head to make sure no one had anything to your neck. But something about those evil glares made you break a sweat not from fear but from arousal. It’s something about that thin, smug smile that makes you want to say “Take me here.” The anticipation is eating you both alive.

Headcanon 3: Most of the time, he likes to include a wager to make the game more interesting. This can be something as simple as giving him a massage to who will be handcuffed that night. One time he bet $1,000, convinced that he was going to win a game of Gin but when you beat him in the first 10 minutes, he was flabbergasted.

Headcanon 4: Hisoka isn’t afraid to admit to defeat. If you won the game fair and square, then so be it. You have won a surprising amount of card games. Since this magician is the master at card tricks, it would seem like he’d win, but you and he were nearly even. After you won this round, he’d slightly throw his hands up and laugh.

“I didn’t know you’d catch on so quickly and quite well, I might add.”

“Well...I learned from a great teacher…”, you pause for second sipping from your cup and fluttered your eyes, “...Hisoka.” The purring of his name pushed a slight groan of relief from the magician as he held his 5 cards in front of his mouth, leaving only his nose and golden eyes exposed.

Headcanon 5: Hisoka doesn't cheat at all when he plays cards. It isn’t fun if a person continuously cheats because the game would be over in seconds. Although he doesn’t cheat, he often distracts you with physical touch. Sometimes he’d rub his fingers on your hand as it rests on the table or blows you kisses. This is done to divert your attention from the game and focus on his passes. Well...I guess you could call this cheating. If you’re having a hard time trying to pull a card for the win, sometimes he will give you a pass and allow you to discard one card to put you ahead of him. If you’re taking absolutely TOO LONG to pull, he’ll throw his stack of cards on the table, come over, and demonstrate for you. To add insult to injury, he’d bend over placing his sharp chin your should on purpose so his mouth could be by your ear. He is now taking up the majority of your seat (doing squats for so many years finally paid off) and is guiding both of your hands mimicking how to pick cards to win a game.

Headcanon 6: Flirting is his strength. He already knows that he is eye candy to everyone and uses it to his advantage. As he explains his methods, within each explanation he takes a card (without Nen) and grazes it against your jaw or arm, and whispers what card it is.

“...Here we have a Queen of Hearts. Look familiar?”

You nod and frown. “No.”

“It’s you, silly.”

Ah! Those cheesy pick-up lines! You never get tired of those

“A 2 of Spades, a 4 of Diamonds, and a Joker card.” His deep voice tickled your eardrum as he spoke softly. “Are you paying attention, kitten?” He knew that you weren’t but continued to pull your finger anyway.

As he continued to fiddle with cards, he gently places a few kisses on your cheek to see if you can still focus while doing so. Truth be told, it wouldn’t be fun for either of you if you developed a stone heart like how he had.

♦ ♥ Casino Night ♥ ♦

Headcanon 7: He loves to participate in exciting Casino Games and have you attend as his “partner in crime”.

On a Casino Date Night, he often chooses a dress for you and you choose his suit. Red and black or black and gold always look flawless together.

The casino is his favorite place to go when he accompanies Illumi on missions. The Zoldyck boy is often irritated by the fact but allows him to do whatever he pleases as long as he doesn’t attract too much attention to himself. That is such a stupid thing to ask of this magician. He is eye candy after all. How can he go unnoticed? If you are with him, he is bound to be noticed. People would stare in awe and jealously at how you two were beyond a power couple.

Hisoka often engages in stupid and dangerous wagers that almost cost him his life but knowing the excitement he gets from it, he doesn’t care.

He has placed bets with members of the Mafia and gang-bangers betting his house and jewels but somehow always manages to win. To make matters worse, the sore losers would often call you horrible names simply because they were angry because they lost to a sly young man.

He refers to you as his “good luck charm ♣” which seems to be true. Every time you are with him, he wins the riskiest wagers.

Headcanon 8: He despises the slot machines. He believes they are rigged to not match on purpose so you can continue to waste money. He forbids you to play them especially when you are using his money.

Headcanon 9: When in “Gamer’s Den”, he is much more protective of you than anywhere else. The Gamer’s Den is a Den of thieves; they mainly consist of money-hungry men that prey on people and their vulnerabilities and/or have committed crimes before (example: robbing winners when walking to their cars). Keeping his arm around your waist, he glares at everyone in the room to establish a sense of dominance AND to let it be known that he is not to be messed with.

Headcanon 10: His kitten (you) is not to be flirted with. You were in the Lion’s Den; something similar to a piece of steak in front of warm-blooded mammals. Of course, wolf-whistles were heard when you walked by, but your man was by your side; it was easy to ignore. Some of the men disregarded his stares and began to flirt with you hard. It made you cringe. Who would want a 50-year-old man with too much cologne on, in your face smiling with a yellow tooth showing? The man only backs up when Hisoka throws his Joker card at him, grazing his cheek causing it to be scratched. One man pushed you to the ground because you ignored his passes. Hisoka began to laugh, sounding a bit psychotic.

“Sir, you do not put your hands on a lady. It shows how much of a coward you are for not excepting that she isn’t interested.”

“Shut up you bag of bones! There’s no way she’s with your skinny ass,” the older man yelled. “You young people annoy the crap out of me! I could break your thin ass in half in a matter of seconds!” His face was red, ready to burst into flames yet he wasn’t ready for the surprise he was about to get.”

Hisoka walked over, helped you up, and dusted off your dress. The man started in confusion. He couldn’t bear the thought of such a beautiful person to be with someone like him.

The man continued to hurl insults at Hisoka but before he could react, security had already thrown him out.

“What a pity. I was going to show him what a ‘skinny’ man can do. Oh well.

Headcanon 11: You enjoy playing pool more than he does. Again, he takes this opportunity to distract you as much as possible. The touch of his cold moist lips from drinking wine on your warm neck causes you to jerk, missing the hole you were shooting for. After pouting, nearly about to jab him in his stomach (because you were playing for money), Hisoka chuckles in a teasingly way.

“I adore that look,” he says sipping from his wine cup.

“I’m sure you do.”

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unmaskedagain · 4 years ago

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I’m Just your problem (But please tell me i’m a winner)

Okay so in my defense of this story, you didn’t actually say who you wanted to be the center of the story. And I kind of got inspired the second I heard the song and just ran with it. It’s a one shot about and staring Lila. So... yeah. Hope you enjoy it though. @abrx2002

I’m the winner!

Lila knew it didn’t have to be like this. It never had to be like this. She didn’t want to bury Marinette in the ground but little Miss Goodie Goodie just couldn’t leave well enough alone. So now Lila had to bury her with just a few words.

She couldn’t been Marinette’s friend. She wanted to be Marinette’s friend. Before even meeting the girl, the entire class had spun a tale of just how fabulous Marinette was. Lila had looked forward to meeting her, becoming her friend, and using her power to rule the class and school together. They could’ve both won. It would’ve been easy.

Too easy apparently.

Because never, not even, once did Marinette want to be her friend. She never even gave Lila a chance. Lila the villain in Marinette’s story as far as the other girl was concerned.

Nice guys finish last.

That’s why I win.

I’m the winner.

The Little princess in pink swore she just didn’t like liars. But everyone told lies, even the perfect Marinette. (Especially Marinette) It was a fact. So why was Lila the one she called out? What was so wrong with Lila that Marinette couldn’t just leave well enough alone.

“Marinette didn’t like liars,” Lila scoffed. “Or maybe she just doesn’t like me!”

Which was a blow to the Italian girl’s pride. Because Marinette liked everyone. She gave everyone chances. Even Chloe! The girl who bullied Marinette and everyone else in class far worse than Lila could’ve considering doing herself. If a spoiled rotten girl like Chloe deserved another chance (and another and another and another) but Lila didn’t get one, how rotten did Marinette think Lila was?

Maybe the lies weren’t the problem like Lila suspected. Maybe the issue was that she didn’t bow and cater to Marinette’s everywhere like the rest of the class seemed to do. They treated her like some goddess.

Is that what Marinette wanted? Did she wanted Lila to worship at her feet? Treat her like she’s perfect like her stupid little friends did? Loyal little lackeys that they are.

Were, Lila thought viciously. A few grand tales, some golden promises and they were at my beck and call. I won.

How’s that for friendship, Maribrat? How does it feel to know the friends you cared so much about turned on you with just a few words. Does it hurt? Does it sting?

Will you finally admit I’m better?

I’m worthy?

That I won?

Am I worthy of your friendship now?

Lila thought Marinette would stop then. After she turned everyone in class against her. Used the faculty’s foolishness to get the Marinette expelled. (Though it was reversed). The girl had lost everything. What was hers was Lila’s now. From bestie Alya, to meek pushover Adrien, to her place at center of class’s love and affection. It was Lila’s now. Because Lila won.

And the Italian girl thought it was a matter of time before Marinette came crawling back. A bit of time before she stopped calling out Lila for lying and just went with it. If she did, then Lila would be benevolent enough to stop accusing her of being a bully, coach the class into re-friending the poor sorry Marinette.

It never happened. Instead of begging and pleading to be Lila’s friend like Lila expected.

Wanted.

Needed.

Admit defeat.

Admit I beat you.

Admit that I won.

Marinette stopped looking hurt at all the nasty words her friends (Ex-friends, Lila thought viciously) were spitting at her, the girl started smiling at her phone, texting, giggling. She hardly ever batted an eye anymore. The only times she called Lila out on her lies was when Lila said anything directly involving Marinette.

She seemed to wash her hands of her classmates. Lila could only watch as she befriended other students from other classes. Classes where Lila had no influence. Friends that didn’t fall easily to little small fibs.

Friends that were smarter that her last ones.

More loyal.

Better.

While the class rightfully worshiped at Lila’s feet now, Marinette moved on to bigger and better things. She played a new game; one that Lila couldn’t win.

It wasn’t fair!

I already won!

Me! I did.

I won!

Student council. Fashion Club. Powered, a club for future female CEOs. She started her own design website. She went on amazing trips and met people Lila could only dreaming of meeting and constantly lied about. Marinette slowly but surely became one of the most popular girls in school.

While I dwindled in mediocrity.

Forced to deal with her stupid ex-friends.

Forced to only lie about things I’ve done.

Forced to watch you do them.

Forced to watch you rise like a star.

Forced to watch you WIN.

Marinette would have rather befriend the entire school, everyone and their entire mother, than to debase herself by admitting defeat and bending to Lila’s whims, getting her friends back in the process. Nope. She rather waste her befriending insignificant morons than be Lila’s friend. It was proof alone how much she hated Lila.

She just used the lies as excuse to cover up the thousands of reason she must’ve hated Lila. Marinette didn’t want Lila to apologize for lying.

She wants me to apologize for not being like her!

Sweet. Perfect. Angelic.

Sorry, that Lila wasn’t made of sugar, spice, and everything. Sorry that’s the stupid reason for anyone to not like someone. To go out of their way to avoid them.

Anyone else would crumble at what Lila threw at them.

They had.

Three. Four. Five. Girls

All were left nothing more than a puddle of tears after I was done with them.

I beat them all!

I won.

But Marinette had gone from those, precious hurt and betrayed faces, to looking at everyone in class like they were just an inconvenience. Like Lila was a minor inconvenience to her day.

But I had won!

I know it!

She can’t just play a new game.

I won.

Every day, she looked through Lila like people look at extra credit math problems in a class your already Acing. She could solve it, put in some minor effort, and fix it but what was the point? Marinette clearly had better things to do than to worry about her ex-friends, her ex-crush, about Lila; minor little problems in her otherwise PERFECT little life.

Lila was just a problem to Marinette. Not a friend, not an enemy anymore, just a stupid little problem. Not even a real person. Just a problem, she couldn’t even be bothered with anymore.

No! Marinette was too busy being elected Spring Queen at the Sweethearts dance.

Too busy on Claude, the star football play, the future Oscar-winning film maker, the most popular guy in school’s arm. The king to her Queen.

And to think Lila had be waiting, patiently, so very patiently, to see the devastated look on Maribrat’s face when she got to the dance and saw…

Adrien and Lila were at the dance, together, as dates; the perfect couple. Marinette was suipossed to be so, SO, heartbroken.

She never batted an eye.

She even told Lila how nice she looked.

And then went on her way. Because Lila wasn’t worth anymore of her time or energy. Like Lila hadn’t taken everything from her.

Like I hadn’t won.

Like I hadn’t beat her.

I did. I know I did.

I beat everyone.

I win at everything.

Marinette just wasn’t playing right.

It was the last time Marinette looked her way the entire night. She was too busy with her perfect friend, her perfect boyfriend, living her stupid perfect life. Being crowned Queen. Lila had broken every mirror and reflect surface in her room. If Marinette didn’t want to look at her problem than neither did Lila.

This wasn’t how winners acted…

After the dance, Lila had tried to get closer to the other kids in school, Marinette’s friends. But they didn’t bat at an eye at her. Had only given the barest looks of amusement, and pity, at her attempts.

It got so bad that Lila almost believed the lie she told the class about Marinette turning the school against her.

Truthfully she knew that Marinette couldn’t have been bothered to. She was too busy. Too busy to worry about the drama in their stupid little class.

Stupid busy for me!

No, she went on her day like Lila didn’t exist.

I exist, damn you.

I’m here.

And I beat you.

I won!

The more she ignored Lila the worst Lila got the class to treat her. Exile her. Got them to get Bustier to get kick Marinette off the school field trips.

Not that it bother Marinette. She just stopped helping fund raise. Went on jaw-dropping trips with her new friends. Ignored the sneers and glares from her ex-friends. Like nothing bother her. None of them matter.

None of them were important enough to matter to her! Lila wasn’t important enough to matter to the great Marinette.

Is this how you treat people who beat you, huh, Maribrat?

You ignore them?

Pretend they’re not there.

SO you can pretend I didn’t win!

Lila wasn’t going to apologize for beating her fair and square. She wasn’t going to stop lying, tell the truth, and beg for Marinette’s friendship. Because what would that really do?

It would be a forfeit.

It would mean I didn’t win.

And really it wasn’t like she did anything wrong, right? If anything Marinette should be thanking Lila for revealing the true colors of her so-called friends, of her crush. Not that Lila was trying to justify anything. Because she didn’t have to.

I won, after all.

Lila won so Marinette shouldn’t be ignoring her in class, right? She shouldn’t act like nothing Lila did phased her. Like Lila didn’t exist. Lila shouldn’t have to be the one to make amends, right?

History is written by the victors.

And I won!

It wouldn’t matter even if she did. Marinette had always hated her, had always been out to get her, had disliked her the moment she laid eyes on Lila just like Ladybug.

Lila had always been on Marinette’s blacklist. And she had done so many things, she couldn’t even remember what landed her there in the first place. It was something stupid, probably. Something so minor, some little lie that Marinette was to uppity to forgive, to let go of.

It was her problem, not mine.

It was all Marinette’s fault, right? It was all her fault! So NO! Lila wouldn’t admit defeat. She wouldn’t stop lying. So why do I want to…

Lila would rub everything she took from Marinette into the other girl’s face. Maribrat would break eventually. They always do. They have to, right? No one could deal with losing so much in such a short while. She’ll admit she was wrong, right? That She should’ve bowed down and accepted Lila as her friend, as the class’s new sweetheart. She’d admit Lila won then, right? Lila beat her. Lila was and is and always will be the winner.

I won!

I beat her.

So there! Lila won, that was it. That was how the game ended and how the story would too. She’d marry Adrien, make Alya her maid of honor just to rub it in Marinette’s face that Lila had everything she ever dreamed of.

Then she’d admit Lila’s won. Because Lila always wins! She already won, after all. Marinette just refused to be a good little loser and admit it…

Lila won.

I’m the winner, right?

#ml salt #lila salt #lila bashing #lila rossi #minor adrien salt #minor class salt #class salt

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rawliverandcigarettes · 4 years ago

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Hi ! How do you envision Aria in Halfway Home ? I do believe you have mentioned she would be involved.

Hello, and thank you for the kind ask, it is absolutely helpful ;_;

So Aria. Aria's a complicated beast. I have a lot of thoughts about her. I kind of always enjoyed her potential more than her execution, as I've been known to have a soft spot for, what I call, Girlbosses Fucking Up. As in: women driven by scary, unhinged ambition that ends up destroying everything including themselves, and Aria could have fitted that description pretty well, or at least its first part (if there had been a proper attempt at character examination and development past her getting suddenly horny for Shepard and fawning over how much cooler and Dangerous than her they actually are or something idk).

So first, about my thoughts on Aria T'loak in canon:

I think Aria embodies a lot of Mass Effect's guilty-pleasure relationship to edge, and I completely believe she's been written first and foremost to be 1) cool, and 2) a sexual fantasy. The problem with that posture is that... basically any serious attempt at unpacking her politics risk ruining her pseudo-dominatrix vibes. So as a result, we get the most unquestioned, unashamed libertarian figure of the games, blaring that she's justified in her power position because she's the strongest, that because she's the strongest she's justified in commiting any kind of violence to hoard what she considers to be hers, and the fact she's basically an absolute despot is seen as something to be admired and even envied (no red tapes, no Council, nobody to answer to but herself and her whims).

To be noted: she's criticized in the vaguest way possible in the Omega DLC, but it has way more to do with the interpersonal, Nyreen and then a dominance struggle with Shepard, than with any of her concrete politics (and the dominance struggle is very... it's very much about "conquering" her and shoving yet another power fantasy down Shepard's throat --either by taming her fire or sharing it, and being called The Most Special Of All And I Never Met Anyone Like You Wooow You're Making Me So Hot And Bothered, and I'd argue it's still more about stroking the player's, hm, ego than about Aria herself). The "nooo don't kill civilians because surely there are any trace of civilians that aren't slavers, gang members or mercenaries left after like, two coups and a half" has nothing to say about the value of the life of said "civilians" despite their darkness, nothing to say about Aria's right to wage life and death over them. Even Nyreen's criticisms of Aria are... very un-Omegan. They still wager on Omega civilians being poor, unprepared babies, and to me it just doesn't ring true or meaningful in the slightest. But I made no effort ever hiding how much I don't vibe with this DLC, and its refusal to engage with Omega's themes to preserve Aria's sex appeal is one of the biggest culprits to me.

I also whinge about Aria in my critic of Mass Effect: Retribution, where I discover that she is actually quite dumb, and solves her problems with temper tantrums and half-assed decisions the narrative desesperatly tries to justify instead of being the savvy figure Mass Effect 2 tries to sell us (also her daughter is treated like a sexpot who immediately dies an awful, voyeuristic death and I doooon't love that choice, even if it's, once again, very telling on the kind of character Aria's supposed to be).

So now, I will stop whingeing about canon and talk about how I tried to reinterpret Aria T'loak in Halfway Home.

So Aria in HH is... kind of an awful, complicated person. I completely leaned in that Girlboss Fucking Up direction because nobody can stop me to explore some of the absurd tragedy behind her struggle for power. She is libertarian to a fault, at once believing in the importance of daring to bite what you can off a seemingly unchangeable and incredibly cruel social system, while failing to acknowledge that she's a central actor of said system, maintaining its alchemy with an iron fist with little concern for those who have to pay the price. While not nearly as conservative as them (socially, economically she's almost worse), I took inspiration from figures like Ayn Rand and Margaret Thatcher to flesh her out, especially in the way she turns against her own kind to keep her head out of the water (I mean at once asaris and sex workers, as I kept her backstory infiltrating Omega's ecosystem as an Afterlife dancer first). But by having this background, to garner respect, she has to be ruthless and consistently brilliant so she doesn't slip, because if she does... Well the fall will be rather brutal. She's acutely aware of the necessity of maintaining her prestige and her innaccessibility, while keeping herself desirable (as a potential ally and as an asari), because everyone wants to either kill her, be her or have her, and this is at once the basis of her power and an incredibly lonely and vulnerable position to have to voluntarily maintain yourself in.

Aria in Halfway Home does fucked up shit, or willingly allows or facilitates fucked up shit to maintain herself afloat (especially in her power plays with the Council, batarians and Cerberus). But she's been doing this dangerous dance for centuries, and she's starting to feel alienated from herself, from anticipating and catering to all sides at once. She also tends to keep opportunities open and let people live if they can be useful (à la Patriarch) rather than kill them, even if she cultivates her vicious reputation to prevent coups against her --basically keeping escape routes open as much as she can. As far as attitude goes, she follows more of her sarcastic/jaded side that is sometimes apparent in canon, and it's becoming clear how tired she is, how every single one of her desires have melted into what she needs to do to stay in power. She's the Pirate Queen, and in more ways than one the world is at her feet, yet everything she does is calculated to keep herself alive, at all time. And she can't stop now, because she's addicted to Omega and what it did to her, and if she stops she will be torn apart by everyone pretending to be on her side. In a way she's a prisonner of her own power, while also maintaining everyone else in the cell with her by force and pretending that... there is no alternative, if you can forgive my wording.

So yeah. Sarcastic, tired, brilliant, cynical. That's my Aria. She's the absolute worst, and yet she's a little tragic too. But by the end of the story, Shlee doesn't care about that part at all and will not shut the fuck up about how she should be deposed and is, in fact, the absolute worst, which, yeah, great thing to scream around Shlee, very smart.

#aria t'loak #omega dlc #halfway home #shlee #asks #fanfiction #mass effect critical

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soupwaffle · 4 years ago

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p5r rant!! *spoilers*

okay. so. i’ve played p5 and p5r many times over the past few years, and my thoughts and feelings towards the game have mostly stayed the same, if not became more critical of its flaws. however, there is one thing that has changed the most, and that is my opinion on goro akechi.

the first time i played regular p5, i was doing a playthrough with an old friend of mine, and i wasn’t super into it. i used to really hate turn-based combat styles (except pokemon because, well, it’s pokemon. come on) so i was kind of just along for the ride. i really, REALLY hated goro during that playthrough, especially upon reaching the shido arc. i saw him as the surface level character archetype that he was, the antagonist of the game and akira’s foil. i could not comprehend why he did what he did, and why he committed all of the murders. He hated his father, hated doing what he was doing, so why did he do it? i despised his actions, and in turn despised him. which, honestly, is valid- you don’t always need a deep and thoughtful reason to hate a character- sometimes you just don’t like them. however, i feel like goro is a character that deserves an analysis and reflects more humanity than is displayed at the surface.

goro despised his father and his actions, truly and genuinely. however, there is always, ALWAYS, going to still be that lingering hope and love in him. the concept of parental relationships is often times built upon the idea that your parents are your world as a youth- you have to make them proud, you have to love them no matter what, because they are your caregivers and can do no wrong. the plot of persona 5 is, quite literally, going against this exact narrative, every villain arc in the story centering around a parental/adult figure in one of the phantom thieves lives and how their desires and cruel inward view of the world harms the children they raise. every phantom thief comes to terms with the abuse and trauma they hold from their guardians- ann and ryuji dealing with kamoshida’s child abuse and pedophilia, yusuke dealing with the false love and encouragement that turned out to be just using and fraud out of greed, futaba and the death of her mother, believing herself to be at fault in the situation, makoto and her sister’s desire to be the best and succeed on all accounts, ignoring the plight of her sister and the issues she was facing, haru and her negligent father, who saw her as an object used for personal gain, and finally, goro and his father, the man who forced him to go into the metaverse on his own for years and kill anyone that he considered to be in his way, in terms of his political and business careers (which p5 does a great job of showing the dangers and negative impacts of intertwining business and politics, i think- but that’s for another time).

and every single phantom thief, upon realizing that there is an issue with the situation they are in, become determined to fight against the evil of those people they trusted throughout their youth- the awakening of their personas- and avenge their lost childhoods, all while attempting to fix the cruelty in those that they loved.

except for goro.

goro was a phantom thief, yes, but he is the only one who actively did not (or, more accurately, could not) go against his father and follow the path of akira and his friends and find that acceptance of himself and his past. he could not move on from the abuse of his father, and could not accept that there was any other way to gain the man’s love than to cater to his every whim- even if it meant destroying his own life and the first true friendships and loves that he had ever had, and eventually dying because of it. this is a fantastic representation of how the abuse towards children from their mentors/guardians can change the course of their lives and how they perceive the world forever. goro wanted so, so deeply to be loved by his father and for him to be proud of him that he was driven to insanity trying to achieve it, when it was impossible all along. akira knew this about him, knew that deep down, goro was never evil, and was never an antagonist to him. goro had simply become a slave to the very evil akira had been fighting against, and was unable to help him overcome the trauma-induced insanity at the point in which they had met. goro was too far gone, and, although he canonically showed before his death that he held that desire somewhere inside to be free of his father, and to live like akira- a hero to many, and a kind soul. that’s why he despised him so much, his first and only friend, and refused to refer to him as anything other than a rival- he envied the life he led, and the ability and strength he held to fight against everything shido stood for. goro would’ve given anything to be like that, and to fight against his father, as the rest of the phantom thieves did. but he couldn’t- couldn’t bring himself to, and almost certainly lived in fear of what would come once he didn’t have his abuser’s hand around his neck. despite the trauma and terrible experience that is abuse, it is really common for a victim to fear a life outside of the abuse, and a life of comfort- something that seems impossible, ESPECIALLY if the victim has always been living like this.

he would’ve also had to come to terms with the terrible things his father had made him do, and would have had to learn how to live with what he’d done, despite the fact that he did not want to do it in the first place.

after knowing all of this about goro, and understanding his character and how he and akira reflect yet contradict each other and relating on a deeper level to his story and emotions, i have decided he is one of my favorite characters in the series. i don’t condone his actions by any means, and he still held the ability to make decisions and act on his own, so the blame is not entirely off of him. however, i understand why it was done, and hold a lot of sympathy for the broken child that he was, and how deeply he desired to be loved.

#persona 5 #goro akechi #p5 #syd video game rants

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whatissleepeven · 4 years ago

Text

I -

I can't stop thinking about it -

About what, you ask?

An Obey Me! and Fate/Grand Order crossover

(Warning: Long post ahead!)

Either the bois get summoned to Chaldea or they're able to summon Servants themselves

(...I'm leaning towards the first)

The tomfoolery! The shenanigans!

Imagine: Humanity's Last Master (aka you) ends up summoning them as they trek through Rome with Mash and the Servants they already summoned

They set up the summoning circle, but one minor mistake is made and the summoning glow looks a bit darker than usual and BOOM

"S-...Senpai...is this normal?"

You have no idea what's normal or not, I mean you're time travelling to save your people for fucks sake -

"Servant of the Rider Class. My True Name is Lucifer. Do not expect me to cater to your every whim."

...Wait he's a what now??

They were not supposed to have this whole "Class" thing designated to them (it's not how demonic summoning works he swears), and yet they do for some reason

(You can tell I had fun thinking of their Classes)

The introductions are...cold, to say the least

"Saber Class Servant, and none other than The Great Mammon, Avatar of Greed! I got better things to be doing, so don't go calling me whenever ya want, got it?!"

"Lancer Class...Leviathan. I have an mmorpg raid coming up, so I can't stick around."

"Berserker Class. My name is Satan. What? Are you surprised that I seem calm for a Berserker? It's quite alright; I get that reaction often enough. A word of advice: Be careful what you wish for."

"My name is Asmodeus, but you can call me Asmo darling! I'm a Caster, which is good. I can't mess up the work done on my nails and hair!"

"Hm...Oh? Sorry, I was thinking about lunch. Servant Class: Ruler. I'm Beelzebub, but most people call me Beel. Do you have any snacks on you?"

"Servant Class: Avenger. My name is Belphegor, but I doubt you'll be alive long enough to remember that. I won't do your dirty work for you, human."

You are just...done at that point. You are literally carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders and their attitudes are not helping

"Yeah, yeah, here's the gist: there's a war going on and we're trying to save the planet. The future's been incinerated, and it's our job to fix what went wrong. I don't have time for your uncooperation; get on board."

(Mash is worried for your mental health)

It takes some time, but they do manage to open up to you

The main catalyst for this is when they heard you talking to Robin Hood, who was summoned in France

"Say, Master...I gotta ask: Why are you doing this?"

You pause what you're doing, shooting him an incredulous look. "You mean saving the world?" You ask in return.

He shrugs, tilting his head forward in a slight nod. "Yeah. There's other people who could do this, aren't there?"

"There isn't." The brothers hear you say firmly. Beel almost went in because he wanted a snack, but the others held him back; the conversation had peaked their interest, and they wanted to hear what you had to say.

"Robin..." Your voice comes out strained, as if you were barely holding yourself together. "I watched innocent people die in front of me. Good people. The world outside is gone. I can't even go see my family, because they're dead. I'm not expecting you to understand, but it hurts so bad that somedays I don't feel like getting up. If I die, it's all over; humanity's done. I'll never be able to see my family's smiles again, I'll never be able to hear their laughter; I'll...I'll never be able to go back home.

"So, instead of asking why I'm doing this, you should be asking "How far are you willing to go?" instead."

Robin is silent for a while. Mammon shifts on his feet. The Green Archer finally speaks, somber but curious tone filling the air. "And? What's the verdict, Master?"

Your voice has a tone of finality to it that shoots them back to the past, back towards the Celestial War. It's final, but it's tired. "Whatever it takes."

(And, so, the brothers come to understand and even sympathize with your situation a little bit. You had to fight for the sake of others without rest, you were a leader, you were a savior, but most of all...you were alone. And something about that didn't sit right with them.)

They would fit in perfectly with Chaldea's dynamics, actually

Mammon has a gold sword he lovingly calls Goldie (yes it changes into his beloved credit card)

His Noble Phantasm is literally him raising his sword and mountains of Grimm burying his opponents from the sky as he cackles out:

"Don't worry, I'll take all that money off ya hands!"

Or, in a proud declaration:

"My sword is my love, and my love is my sin. I'll take all that you have on ya! STULTUS IN AVARITA!!"

(Translates (from Google) to "Greed of the Fool")

(It also gives you an increased drop rate in materials)

Leviathan's weapon is his trident

He's surprised that he wasn't summoned as a Rider, once he got used to the "Class" thing (which was fairly quick, he's seen an anime like this before). I mean, he has a giant snake named Henry 1.0 and Lothan that he would've loved to fight side by side with

He usually doesn't fight, but he proves to be invaluable in Okeanos since he has knowledge on war strategies at sea

His Noble Phantasm is a bit strange, but endearing (sad). He rushes forward with his trident glowing, saying either:

"I can't get the latest Ruri-chan merch because you blew up the world...I won't forgive you. I can't forgive you!"

Or, in a somber tone:

"Even though it's fun, a gamer's life becomes stifling if you keep playing by yourself. I hope you're watching, (Y/N)! EX SOLA INVIDIA!!"

(Translates (from Google) to "Envy of the Lonely")

(Chance of Death increases with Overcharge, and it hits a single enemy)

Satan? Even though he's a Berserker, he behaves more like a Caster (initially)

He's holding a book that shoots out beams of pure energy at his opponents

His Noble Phantasm is...more violent

"Ah, so you've decided to call upon my Noble Phantasm...don't blame me if it's too much for you."

Or, he begins in a deathly calm voice:

"I am me; that's all I need to be. I know this, so why...? Why does this happen? TELL ME! "

He discards his books altogether, grabbing a single enemy with his bare hands and ripping them to shreds.

Asmo’s skill is charming his enemy, which confuses most people since you’d think it’d be his Noble Phantasm

Instead, it boosts his allies’ attacks and NP by 30%

“Don’t get too hurt out there~!”

Beel’s Noble Phantasm heals all allies and increases their attack

“We can’t fight on an empty stomach.”

(Once he hits his last Ascension, your party gets the added bonus of him attacking a single enemy with a lance. All other Ascensions has him using his fists for attacks.)

Belphie’s Noble Phantasm is almost as violent as Satan’s, and yes...he chokes out a single enemy out (rip MC)

“HA! You think I’d work with the likes of you, a lowly human? Get out of my sight.”

It’s Instant Death, unless Evasion or Invincibility is activated

Lucifer’s pride is a bit wounded. He’s a Rider, of all things??

(...He eventually gets used to it though)

His Noble Phantasm is him literally mounting Cerberus and raising his spear towards the heavens, looking as radiant as the days before the Fall

“It seems drastic times call for drastic measures. Cerberus, I trust you to handle things here.”

And Cerberus runs forth, either chomping the enemy in two or breathing fire at them and turning them into ash. (It hits everyone)

Satan and Jekyll hang out a lot because, well...they’re a lot alike

Mammon can and will do stupid shit with the Cu Squad and you cannot change my mind

One time he teamed up with Cascu to steal the other Cu’s spears (Mammon wanted to sell them on Akuzon), and well...half of Chaldea is still in repair to this day

Merlin of all Servants is the one to look after Belphie and Beel

They usually hang out in the garden Robin tends to, Asterios occasionally joining them while bringing both food and Euryale

Asmo frequently visits Medea, dragging Medusa into their group

(Dantes grows fond of Beel overtime, I mean Beel is just so pure there’s no way you couldn’t like him)

Lucifer and EMIYA butt heads at first, but they end up becoming friends despite that

Lucifer admires EMIYA’s skill to keep up with Servants who have a black hole for a stomach, and EMIYA admires Lucifer’s skill to round up his brothers effortlessly when the need to arises (or so he thinks, because he does not know about the Hate Lucifer Club which is run by Satan and Belphie).

Levi and Fran have a pure kind of friendship that must be protected at all costs

He shows her new animes and games, and even though she’s confused most of the time she never fails to listen to his ramblings, nodding whenit was appropriate

BONUS: Undateables (+ Luke)!

Solomon’s situation is...peculiar.

He’s not a Servant, but he behaves like one??

(He’s actually a mage that helps you on your journey to save humanity)

Unlike Da Vinci, he’s able to accompany you to the Singularities (free of charge, too!)

Once he sees the other Solomon, all he says is “I see...interesting.”

(Ngl he probably figured out everything by the time you all went to Okeanos)

Asmo also drags him into his group (consisting of Medea and Medusa), offering to paint his nails as they talk about anything and everything

Simeon is a Lancer and you can’t change my mind

He’s more of a buffer for your team, like Asmo. His skills are primarily healing, and his NP saps the health of an opponent while healing someone other than himself with that health (he cannot heal himself)

He gets along great with Karna!! The two are so nice and kind that it hurts to look at them both for too long

Solomon tells him about the gossip Asmo has on the other Servants. He always listens with an amused look on his face.

Luke is a smol Caster, but he will not hesitate to break your kneecaps

He, too, is a buffer for your team

“I’ll defend you from those demons, (Y/N)!”

His Noble Phantasm heals all allies, restoring their health by 20%

He bakes with Fsn Cu at night, having Proto Cu and Robin Hood try out his sweets. Beel is there 10/10 times, eating any failures or rejects

Diavolo is Ruler Class because he is literally the Ruler of Hell

Surprisingly (to you, at first), he’s the one who always asks to accompany you. He’s very open and considerate, wanting to help wherever and whenever he can

“The Human Realm is essential if we are to establish harmony between the three Realms. Without it there...angels and demons would fight each other for eternity.”

He tells you about his ideas for an exchange program and you offer him input

His Noble Phantasm is applying Invincibility to two allies for 3 turns after dealing heavy damage to a single enemy (cannot apply Invincibility to himself)

He likes to talk with Caster Gil and Archer Gil about their past, going to Ko Gil on occasion. He helps look after the child Servants, and he can often be found reading bedtime stories to them

(Everyone was scared of him at first once they found out who he was, so he usually held off revealing his True Identity)

Barbatos, at first glance, seems like an Archer...but in reality is an Assassin

(HE CONTROLS TIME FOR F*S SAKE)

His Noble Phantasm, depending on the enemy selected, can revive a fallen ally and add them to the Sub Team

(This is only if the enemy that killed the ally is selected)

This stuns him for 3 turns no matter what

He likes to chat with the Tamamo that helps EMIYA in the kitchen. How the two are communicating without issues is up to anyone’s guess

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cloudphillips · 5 years ago

Text

There Is A Place

Summary: A place where Seungwan and Joohyun could be free.

The kingdom of Daegu was in high spirits as citizens of different ranks chattered on excitedly when they went about their day. The market was even more crowded than usual and the merchants not only to sold their wares much cheaper than the usual amount but also added a little bit of gossip with every successful purchase made. Delighted squeals and laughter could be heard from the street children near the local pastry shop since the baker decided to give away his baked goods for free. Some people from neighboring kingdoms travelled far and wide just to hear the news. The academy was void of students since the headmaster announced that classes would be suspended in favor of celebrating this momentous occasion.

The princess was betrothed. She was to marry the prince of Seoul.

It was the king himself who announced the engagement. Standing by the balcony of the royal palace alongside his wife, he had his subjects gathered in the square to declare that there will be a matrimony of royal blood. The union of the two kingdoms will bring peace and prosperity for the future to come.

The citizens were beyond ecstatic that they could barely find the motivation to do mundane tasks. Instead, they chose to dance on the streets and sing praises to those who were willing to listen. Everyone was in a festive mood. Today was a special day. It might as well be considered as a holiday.

Although, the palace was more subdued. The imperial guards patrolled the halls with marked vigilance, checking for any unusualities and occasionally helping the palace staff with the heavy lifting. Every once in a while, a servant would rush along the corridors carrying trays of food, loads of books and numerous expensive gifts just to cater the whims of every noble. The king was currently having a council with his most trusted advisors to discuss matters on how to improve the economy while protecting the land borders of Daegu. Meanwhile, the queen basked in the well-wishes and congratulations from the courtiers when they talked about the engagement as they drank tea in the gazebo.

Everyone was happy with the prospect of marriage.

All except for one.

On an empty field just a few yards away from the castle wall, there was a worn down path that wound through a series of twists and turns which eventually led to the forest. Graveled stones and dried twigs soiled the ground and the path opened deeper into the wild. The tall canopy of trees provided shade against the blaring heat of the sun and kept the place relatively cool. Birds and other wild animals sang a music only mother nature could know. The long twisted path eventually led to a clearing, big enough for a small pond to fit in the middle, and a variety of flowers that grew untamed with the lush green grass.

As soon as Seungwan arrived at the clearing, a small, almost heavy, sigh escaped her lips. She was drenched in sweat and tried to catch her breath. Her short blonde locks clung to her neck in sticky waves and her listless brown eyes searched the calming waters of the pond for comfort. It was a good thing that she wore a loose white linen shirt today since it allowed room for movement and felt a little less constricting. Removing her ragged boots and bending down to fold her black trousers, Seungwan walked towards the pond and gently dipped her feet in its cool blue waters. She closed eyes and let the calm wash over her weary soul but even that wasn't enough to quench the heaviness in her heart.

Seungwan left as soon as she heard. The news of the princess' betrothal left her numbed with shock. Her mind at lost for words and she didn't know what to do. She needed to escape to a place where she wouldn't feel trapped. So she ran to the forest until her feet ached and her lungs burned. She ran until her eyes blurred with tears that watered the ground like droplets of rain.

The princess was to be married to the prince of Seoul in two months’ time. It was expected since she was in the appropriate age but it was too soon and Seungwan wasn't quite sure if she was ready for that... If her heart was ready for the inevitable... if she was ready to spend the rest of her life being incomplete. Seungwan closed her eyes and felt her soul resonate within. This was bound to happen. She had seen this for a long time coming and she had no right to object for she was merely a servant. Their worlds were heavens apart.

But why can't her heart accept that?

"I thought I'd find you here."

Seungwan's heart raced once she heard that familiar lilting voice and she quickly jumped to her feet. She smoothed out her clothes to a more presentable manner before bowing deeply.

"Your royal highness." Her eyes stared hard at the ground and she didn't dare lift them in fear that her heart might betray her. It was already traitorous enough as it is.

"I told you not to call me that Seungwan-ah." The princess sounded annoyed at the honorific. She did hate formality especially coming from the little servant girl. Seungwan could just picture the intense glare emanating from her eyes. "Look at me."

But the servant girl made no move to look at her, opting to study the ground instead.

A beat of silence.

"Please."

It was her little plea and Seungwan didn't have it in herself to deny the princess from her wishes. She swallowed the lump in her throat and prepared herself to become undone.

As usual, the princess took her breath away.

There she was, in all her stunning glory, wearing that ocean blue summer dress that emphasized her smooth pale skin, sporting that soft gentle smile she always reserved for Seungwan. Her raven black hair tumbled past her shoulders in silky waves and there was an excited glint in her chocolate brown eyes as she pulled the servant girl into a swift embrace. Seungwan found it difficult to breathe, much less even think. Her touch burned Seungwan's skin and left tendrils of fire in its wake. After all this time, the princess still had the same effect on Seungwan.

"Joohyun." Seungwan whispered breathlessly and lifted her trembling hands to return the princess' embrace. Sanity has long left her now and she wondered if Joohyun had some sort of magic within her... If she somehow bewitched Seungwan with the charm she wielded.

But of course, Joohyun wasn't a sorceress. She wasn't some kind of mythical being that existed in the minds of people. She was very real and beautifully flawed and Seungwan loved her for that.

Joohyun lingered for a moment and Seungwan thought she saw her features turn forlorn the second she pulled away but quickly dismissed it as one of her imaginations. The princess straightened her composure before a mischievous smirk graced her lips. Seungwan knew that look. She'd been the recipient of that smirk too many times throughout the course of their friendship and it was never a good sign for it spelled trouble.

"I'm supposed to be having tea with the court ladies today but I feigned sickness and somehow managed to avoid my responsibilities." Joohyun seemed quite proud of herself and Seungwan could only frown in disapproval as she watched the princess slip out of her heels, hike up her dress and dip her feet into the cool waters just as Seungwan did earlier. "Now I'm free to spend my afternoon with you."

That didn't seem wise but Seungwan knew better than to scold her. Joohyun was as stubborn as it gets. Arguing with her was completely pointless because she rarely ever listens.

Seungwan settled beside Joohyun and the princess proceeded to recount how her day went. How she was caught in a dull conversation with the ambassador of Seoul during breakfast. How she couldn't escape her lessons about Daegu history and most of all, how she tried hard to convince her father to call off the engagement.

"I've told him many times but he wouldn't listen. Marriage isn't what I want." A scowl marred her elegant features when the princess slapped the water in frustration, sending splashes of fluid in all the wrong directions. Seungwan thought that anger didn't suit Joohyun. "It's like my opinions don't even matter."

The servant girl could only patiently listen to the princess as she droned on and on about her frustrations. She stared at the princess the whole time not only because she liked hearing the sound of her voice but mostly because Joohyun was being herself. She didn't play the game of pretenses when she was around the servant girl. She would always let her guard down and allow Seungwan to witness the vulnerable parts of herself that she didn't let others see.

To Seungwan, Joohyun was just Joohyun.

The same Joohyun whom she grew up with and treated her like family. The same Joohyun who snuck out at night to visit Seungwan in the dungeons after being punished for accidentally spilling wine on a noble's trousers. The same Joohyun who defended her when she was accused of stealing food from the kitchens.

"Seungwan-ah?"

The servant girl was completely immersed in her thoughts that she failed to notice the change in Joohyun's mood. The princess had gone very quiet.

"What if my heart longs for another?"

That statement alone pulled Seungwan out of her reverie and she stuttered out a reply. "W-What do you mean?"

"What if I want-" Joohyun was looking at her now, staring directly into her eyes in search for something, and Seungwan was unable to look away. For a moment, she was afraid... terrified that Joohyun would see through her barriers and discover the feelings Seungwan had long kept hidden. "-to marry whom I choose?"

The air was thick with tension and Seungwan tried to lighten atmosphere by cracking a joke. "Why? Is the great princess having a hard time asking someone out?" She knew she was being a coward but her heart can't - wouldn't - shouldn't hope. The path to Joohyun was a lonely road and wishing for the impossible would only end in heartache.

The smile on Joohyun's lips didn't quite reach her eyes and Seungwan's attempts to lighten the atmosphere backfired. Both of them lapsed into an awkward silence, with the princess gazing at the sky and the servant girl fidgeting listlessly in her seat.

"Why did you come here?" The princess asked after a while.

"Oh. I just came here to think." Seungwan shrugged noncommittally, trying to brush it off like it was nothing, when in reality she came here to forget.

To escape the reality that the love of her life was betrothed to another man.

To accept the fact that the more Seungwan yearned for her, the more she realized that they could never be together.

The princess furrowed her brows and pursed her lips into a thin line, a clear indicator that she didn't quite believe the servant girl. "So you came to our place? You only ever come here when something's bothering you." The intensity of her eyes was enough to melt away whatever control was left in Seungwan.

Our place

For this little clearing by the forest had become their sanctuary ever since they were children... their little safe haven that shielded them from the cruel world. This is the place where the magic occurs. This is the place where everything is possible. This is the place where Seungwan was free to love Joohyun in silence.

"Yes."

"But-" The princess tries to press further but the servant girl shook her head and kept silent.

"Let's just enjoy the moment." Seungwan found the courage to hold her hand and joined the princess in watching the skies.

She closed her eyes and dreamed of another life where Joohyun could be hers.

=============================================================================

Two weeks have passed since the announcement and now the kingdom of Daegu was preparing for the upcoming visit of the prince of Seoul. Banners of blue and silver hung on every house and stall and lanterns lit the cobbled streets. There was a shortage of red roses and the florist was at her wit's end trying to resupply her stock. A demand for heart-shaped cookies and chocolates caused the local baker to create more pastries. Expansions for the church were fully underway so as to accomodate the attendants from Seoul. Music could be heard from the academy since the students were tasked to be the lead choir for the welcoming ceremony. Artisans reknowned from far and wide, hired by the king, came to help decorate the plaza square.

Meanwhile, the palace was plunged into madness. Imperial guards were stationed at every exit and entrance, still observing for anything unusual while servants darted on and about the palace, scrubbing the walls immaculately clean, replacing old flowers from vases, dusting away dirt from large marbled statues, stripping off the soiled linens in each sleeping chamber and changing them into new ones. All the while still catering to the whims of every noble. The cook and his apprentices busied themselves in preparing the food and sometimes, a little servant boy would steal a freshly-baked muffin from the kitchens. The king had a private assembly with his trusted advisors to discuss how to strengthen Daegu's pact with Seoul while the queen made a quick visit to her royal tailor for her gown measurements.

Everyone seemed preoccupied for the special day.

And Seungwan wasn't exempted from that.

She was on stable duty and spent the whole day shovelling manure, cleaning the stalls and grooming horses. Once or twice, she was whisked away by the matron and ordered her to fetch some things from the market. Seungwan complied with every demand that was requested of her since it kept her from thinking about Joohyun. She hadn't been the same since the announcement. She spent her days lost and confused while at night, she could barely fall asleep. So in order to keep her mind off of things, Seungwan busied herself with work.

Maybe this way, she could stop dreaming the impossible.

Maybe this way, she could finally come into terms with the inevitable.

And maybe this way, she could learn to let Joohyun go.

But why was there a constant ache in her heart that refused to disappear?

The servant girl sighed and continued brushing on the horse's mane. She just finished removing the saddle from the animal's back when Johnny, one of the Imperial guards, appeared out of nowhere and shoved a small piece of parchment to her face. "Oi Seungwan! A letter for you." He marched off before Seungwan could ask any questions. Cautiously unfolding the paper, Seungwan immediately recognized the elegant script written in cursive.

It was a letter from Joohyun asking her to come visit her chambers tonight.

Seungwan furrowed her brows. What did the princess want?

No matter. She'll find the answers sooner.

For now, she has to finish cleaning the stables.

When the night came, Seungwan snuck out of the servants' quarters and crept along the dark hallways of the castle. A guard almost caught her lurking around the throne room but thankfully she managed to evade him. Standing outside the princess' chambers, she knocked gently on the mahogany doors. There was no answer. She was about to knock again when the door opened and the princess abruptly grabbed her collar and dragged her into the room. Joohyun pushed her against the wall before securing the locks to her chamber. "Did anyone see you?" And when the servant girl shook her head, the princess sighed in relief and slowly wrapped Seungwan in a tight embrace.

Seungwan felt her throat closed up and mouth go dry when she noticed their apparent closeness. Her mind had a hard time recovering its sanity and it also didn't help that the fine lace robes Joohyun was wearing did nothing to cover her undergarments. The valleys of her breasts and the curves of her hips were tantalizing. It was a sin to look at her and Seungwan should be punished for having such lewd thoughts about the princess. She held her breath in the hopes of preventing herself from being overwhelmed but it was hopeless. She was already intoxicated with Joohyun's scent.

"I was beginning to think that you wouldn't come." Joohyun buried herself on Seungwan's neck and breathed in her sweet fragrance. The servant girl was suddenly painfully aware of the fact that they were by themselves... alone... in the princess' chambers. She imagined the scandal it would cause if someone discovered them. "I missed you."

Seungwan felt her breath hitch. She tried hard, tried to resist whatever enchantment the princess cast upon her, but she was fighting a losing battle and her traitorous heart wouldn't stop beating Joohyun's name. In the end, she stopped fighting and eventually succumbed to her touch.

She allowed herself to enjoy the simple pleasure of having Joohyun in her arms.

Spare me a little taste of forever with you.

Her grip on Joohyun tightened.

Just this once.

"I missed you too."

The embrace lasted for a minute longer before Joohyun took her by the arm and led her towards the bed. Together, they rested on the soft mattress and silken sheets. Seungwan kept her distance but the princess had no concept of personal space and simply scooted closer and draped her arms around the servant girl. Seungwan wondered if she had always been this masochistic. Wanting someone she can't have and wishing for the impossible felt more like self-destruction but she was happy with it. "So what did you want to talk about?"

Then Joohyun asked a rather unusual request. "Tell me your dreams."

Seungwan thought for sure that she had stopped breathing. The answer was right there, almost at the tip of her tongue, but she didn't dare say it because she was terrified of giving it meaning once she voices it out loud.

To spend my life loving you.

Seungwan was a coward because only a coward would choose to love in silence. "I want to find the place where I could be free."

"Have you found that place already?" The princess traced random patterns on her arm and the servant girl found herself lying again.

"No."

Yes.

Right here beside you.

A moment of silence passed and Seungwan cherished every minute of it for this might be the last time she'd ever feel Joohyun's touch.

"Seungwan-ah?"

"Yes princess?

"Why is it that the burden I carry flies away when I'm in your arms?"

Seungwan suddenly lost the ability to speak and the wild beating of her traitorous heart felt difficult to control. This is what those poems authored by dead men must feel like. To long for someone you cannot have. To have all love contained within you and have no one to give it to. To have your soul wither away. This is what must it feel like to slowly die inside.

She wondered if this was the God's punishment for her because she loved a woman. She loved her best friend. Maybe this was His punishment for her, for not knowing her place, for asking the impossible, for thinking that she and Joohyun could ever be equals.

The princess had already fallen asleep by the time Seungwan could find the courage to respond and as she watched Joohyun sleep contently in her arms, she finally found an answer. If the heavens wanted to punish her then she would gladly face its wrath because Joohyun was worth the sacrifice.

And there was no greater sacrifice than laying down her life for the one that she loved.

"Sweat dreams Hyun." Seungwan gently caressed the princess' cheek and planted a soft kiss on her head.

Her eyes suddenly fluttered to Joohyun's mouth and for a moment, she felt the deep-seated longing to kiss her. Seungwan wanted to taste those soft lips and ingrain Joohyun's essence deep into her mind forever so that when the time comes when Joohyun finally leaves, Seungwan will have something to remember her by.

Seungwan wanted her. God, she loved her.

She leaned closer until she could almost feel the warmth of Joohyun's breath brushing against her cheek. Seungwan traced the outlines of her lips, slow, gentle and even reverent, taking great care not to break Joohyun with her caress. She was unworthy to touch her this way. "Just this once."

If equal affection cannot be, let the more loving one be me.

She leaned closer and closer until their lips were only inches apart.

No. Stop! This is wrong.

Seungwan felt the tendrils of guilt wrap her heart. She took advantage of her best friend Joohyun. Sweet and kind Joohyun who trusted her with all her heart and yet Seungwan almost betrayed that trust by giving into her desires. Her love was not pure. Her love was dirty and tainted. The universe was right to punish her.

With an aching heart, she carefully extricated herself away from Joohyun. The servant girl felt disgusted with herself. Only a lowlife would take advantage of their best friend like that. What she did was unforgivable.

“Seungwan?” Joohyun stirred when she felt the warmth disappear and when she noticed Seungwan leaving her chambers, she grabbed hold of her arm and begged for her to stay. "Please stay with me until the sun rises."

Seungwan could never deny the princess so she relented to her wishes. She went back to bed and Joohyun wasted no time wrapping her in an embrace. She clung to Seungwan desperately as if her life depended on it and the servant girl found it difficult not to care.

"Don't go." Joohyun yawned when the remnants of sleep finally overtook her.

And as Seungwan laid in bed, her thoughts wandered to the sleeping woman in her arms. There was no going back now. She had fallen way too deep. Her gaze landed on the ceiling and she sighed.

"You're making it hard for me to let you go."

=============================================================================

Prince Bogum of Seoul and his entourage finally arrived to the kingdom of Daegu and the citizens celebrated his coming. A ceremony was held at the palace square to laud this joyous occasion. The royal family, along with the trusted advisors and nobles, received him and gave him a warm welcome. Seungwan was one of the onlookers, moving through the crowd to get a better glimpse of the prince. She was supposed to be in the palace, cooking in the kitchens and doing the laundry, but she snuck out and joined the crowd. Of course, she'll surely be punished by the matron but she can worry about that later. For now, she's focused on knowing the man who'll be taking Joohyun's hand in marriage.

"I welcome you, Prince Bogum of Seoul, to the illustrious kingdom of Daegu." The king beamed proudly as he swept his hand over his beloved nation. Behind him, the queen and princess stood graceful and elegant. Joohyun was great at acting calm. If she was nervous then she was certainly doing a good job at hiding it.

"The stories I've heard about your kingdom doesn't do much justice. I thank you for giving me this honor of witnessing for myself the greatness of Daegu your majesty." Prince Bogum bowed respectfully. "I come bearing gifts!" With a simple flick of his hand, his servants emerged bringing caskets filled with gold and fine linen. The king seemed quite pleased with his thoughtful gesture.

The prince was strikingly handsome with his charcoal black hair neatly styled to perfection and fair skin unblemished by scars. His chocolate brown eyes sparked with youth and he carried himself with poise and vigor that immediately charmed the king and his regents. Prince Bogum seemed like a respectable man. Anyone would be lucky to have him.

"I'd like you to meet my daughter, Princess Joohyun of Daegu, whom you'll be marrying in a few weeks' time." The king gestured for his daughter to come forward and proceeded to introduce her. Seungwan could tell that Bogum was rendered awestruck by her beauty. She could relate to him. After all, Joohyun always took her breath away.

"I've heard tales of your beauty princess and it's such a blessing to finally witness it for myself. I am a truly lucky man to have you as my wife." He stumbled upon his words while trying to greet her and everyone seemed to find it a little endearing.

Everyone except Joohyun.

She remained passive the whole time.

"A pleasure to meet you too my prince." There was a subtle frown on Joohyun's features when the prince gently kissed her hand.

Seungwan observed the interaction with a growing heaviness in her heart. Prince Bogum was perfect. He had perfect hair, perfect eyes and perfect smile. He would be the future king of Seoul. He would be good for Joohyun. They would get married, yield beautiful offsprings, have a family and live their lives in utmost happiness. Meanwhile, Seungwan could only watch from afar as she tries to mend the pieces of her broken heart.

This sudden realization struck Seungwan like lightning and she suddenly found it difficult to breathe. She felt trapped, constricted, and the crowd was suffocating her. She needed to escape, somewhere far away from here.

Joohyun scanned the crowd and was surprised to find Seungwan amongst the people. Her surprise turned to worry when she noticed the tears threatening to spill from Seungwan's eyes. The princess moved to approach the servant girl but she was stopped by her mother, who gave her warning look and urged her to strike a conversation with Prince Bogum.

And Joohyun stayed rooted in her spot as she helplessly watched Seungwan escape to the forest.

...

The sun had set and it was already night time when the sound of jovial music and laughter could still be heard throughout the whole kingdom. The people were still celebrating the festivities and sang songs on the streets. The local pub was handing out free drinks, much to everyone's delight, and provided a place for merriment. The Baker was too drunk from the ale to notice that his pastries were slowly getting eaten by the children who visited his shop. An imperial guard left this post and started flirting with the local florist. A ball was held in the palace in honor of the prince's arrival. The king and queen were having a merry chat with Prince Bogum and courtiers wasted no time socializing with the guests from Seoul and getting into their good graces. The servants busied themselves by ensuring that the whole event ran smoothly while catering to the whims of every noble.

Everyone was having a good time.

Everyone except Seungwan.

The servant girl didn't join the merriment because she didn't feel like celebrating. She stayed by the clearing to drown herself in solitude. Prince Bogum's arrival felt like being struck by the cold harsh truth and Seungwan was far from prepared to face reality.

She can't, not yet.

She still needed time.

Time for her to let go.

She laughed hollowly, a strange broken sound that echoed through the night, when feelings of despair started to settle in. What good will wanting Joohyun do? She was a princess and Seungwan was a servant. Even then, she knew that they could never be together. There was nothing she could give Joohyun. She had no riches, no kingdom and she wasn't even of noble birth. Seungwan could only offer her heart but it wasn't enough, it will never be enough. Prince Bogum was perfect and he would be able to provide Joohyun the things Seungwan never could. They would be happy together.

So why can't her heart accept that?

"I knew I'd find you here."

Seungwan would recognize that voice anywhere. There seems to be no escaping the princess now, is there? She sighed in defeat and bowed deeply in reverence.

"Your highness." The servant girl could barely look directly into her eyes. Seungwan never displayed this kind of formality towards Joohyun in their long years of friendship but it needed to be done. A line was needed to be drawn in order to remind Seungwan of her rank.

"I thought I told you not to call me that." Joohyun wasn't at all annoyed but she did sound a little sad. She took a step towards Seungwan but the latter backed away. She didn't bother to hide the hurt she was feeling. "Did something happen? I saw you by the square earlier and I wanted to come to you but you ran away." Joohyun reached out to caress her cheek but Seungwan stepped out of her reach.

"This needs to stop." The finality in Seungwan's tone terrified her completely. It's as if she was about to say something drastic and Joohyun didn't know if she was prepared to handle it.

"S-Stop what?"

"This friendship. It needs to stop." What was going on? Why was Seungwan acting like this?

"But why?" Joohyun's heart ached and her tears threatened to spill. "We've known each other for so long. Why suddenly end this beautiful bond that we have?"

"Exactly that. We've known each for so long that I forget myself when I'm around you Joohyun. You're a princess while I'm merely a servant. It's time you start treating me like one." Seungwan wanted to take back the words she said but the damage had been done and Joohyun was already fighting back tears.

"What are you saying?" Joohyun told herself not to cry. She would not cry, not for her, not for Seungwan.

"I'm saying that no friendship should ever exist between us." Seungwan didn't dare look into her eyes.

"So are you just gonna throw away all those years of us being together? Is that it?" For the first time in Seungwan's life, she became the recipient of Joohyun's harsh glare and it saddened that it had to end this way.

No. She should not feel remorse now. She was only doing this for Joohyun's sake.

Be strong Seungwan.

"Yes."

Then she left and fought hard not to look back.

=============================================================================

The kingdom of Banora was in a solemn mood. The palace was decorated with white roses and ribbons while lanterns hung on every household. The streets were deserted and no merchant could be seen selling their wares in the market. The local bakery and flower shop were closed. Children, together with their parents, dressed in white formal attire gathered in the square to witness the holy matrimony of Prince Bogum and Princess Joohyun. The imperial guard were stationed at every entrance to ensure the safety of the event. The king and queen and the rest of the nobles settled inside the church, all hushed in excitement as they prepared for the ceremony to begin. Prince Bogum stood by the altar and tried to calm his nerves as he waited for the princess to arrive.

Seungwan stood by the entrance of the palace with the white chariot parked behind her. Dread was creeping to her bones and she was starting to think that this was a bad idea. As punishment for having skipped her chores, the matron thought that it would be fitting for Seungwan to safely escort the princess towards the chariot where the rest of the handmaidens would be waiting. She wondered if this was the universe's cruel way of punishing her, to see the love of her life for one last time before she was whisked away to marry someone else.

But the servant girl thought that it was only appropriate. No amount of punishment could take away the hurt she inflicted on Joohyun.

The sound of sharp heels hitting the floor signaled the princess' arrival and Seungwan looked up from her feet to see Joohyun looking as breathtaking as ever. Flowers adorned her head and her raven locks were pulled into a braid. She was wearing a silk lace white gown that clung to her body like a second skin and the diamonds resting on her neck couldn't compare to the sheer magnitude of her beauty. She held in her hand a bouquet of white roses and Seungwan couldn't help but think that Joohyun looked so beautiful in white.

The second their eyes met, a fond, almost melancholic, smile graced Joohyun's lips when she tentatively approached Seungwan. "I never thought I'd find you here." She stopped just a few inches away but she was close enough for Seungwan to revel in her beauty.

"I'm here to escort you to the chariot your highness." The servant girl swallowed the lump in her throat before bowing reverently.

"Right... I'm the princess after all." Joohyun sounded helpless and Seungwan berated herself for causing this mess in the first place. She rose to her full height and their eyes met.

There was a beat.

A moment of silence.

Both of them stared at each other, committing every detail into memory, realizing that this would be the last, knowing that things would never be the same again.

A beat.

Silence.

And Seungwan decided that she was tired of denying her heart.

"Run away with me."

Joohyun's eyes went wide and she stuttered out. "W-What?"

"Run away with me." Seungwan found her courage and declared the love she had long kept hidden. "We'll go somewhere far away, just you and me, and start a new life. You can be whatever you want to be and I-" She let out a shaky breath. Her hands wouldn't stop trembling. "-I will spend the rest of my life making you happy."

"Why?" Joohyun couldn't stop the tears from falling. It was the first time that Seungwan saw her cry. "Why did you have to say this now? Just when I'm about to get married."

"I just thought-" Seungwan tried to explain but the princess cut her off.

"I waited for you Seungwan! Ever since we were children, I always adored you. I was even willing to forsake the crown for you! But when I already made up my mind, you decide to profess your undying love and hope that it would somehow change a thing?" Joohyun shook her head in disappointment. "You are a cruel person Son Seungwan."

"I just thought that you should know. I'm sorry if it took me long enough." Seungwan tried to wipe away Joohyun's tears but caught herself at the last minute. She had no right to touch the princess, not after all the pain she inflicted upon her.

"I have a duty to my people Seungwan." The princess looked resolute and there was finality in her voice and just like that, Seungwan knew that this was the end. She had resigned herself to a life without Joohyun.

This is what dying must feel like.

She gathered her courage and flashed Joohyun a smile, though it was a little strained. "Meet me at our place if you ever change your mind." She gathered the princess into her arms and inhaled her scent for one last time. "I will wait for you there."

Even if you never come

Joohyun trembled against her and the servant girl tried her best to comfort her. The princess held on to Seungwan tightly, desperately, as if her life depended on it, then softly whispered into her ear.

"My heart will always belong to you."

And when they pulled away, Joohyun bid her a final farewell before heading to the chariot and Seungwan could only watch as the love of her life walked away.

Maybe in another world, their lives wouldn't be so different.

Maybe in another world, Seungwan would be the one that makes Joohyun happy.

Maybe in another world, they'll both be free

But not in this world.

In this world, Joohyun was a princess and Seungwan was a servant.

In this world, she was betrothed to another

In this world, they could never be together.

It's time her heart finally accepted that.

...

Seungwan grunted in exhaustion as soon as she saw the clearing. After the chariot drove off, she quickly gathered her things and ran to the forest. The pond's clear waters was inviting but no amount of comfort could alleviate the ache in her chest.

Then the sound of the cathedral bells echoed through the whole kingdom and dozens of white doves soared to the sky. Seungwan released the shaky breath she had been holding.

It was over. The wedding was over.

Joohyun will never come.

She was all alone now.

For now, Seungwan has decided that she will run away, away from the prison that once felt like a home, to chase her dreams and find the place where she could be free. She gazed at the clouds above and the image of Joohyun flashed into her mind and made her smile. Her friend did love the sky.

"Someday, I'll learn how to live without you."

Seungwan uttered her final prayers before she stood up to leave. Just as she slung her pack over her shoulders, there was a distinct sound of hooves pounding against the ground and the shrill whine of an animal. She turned around, only to be rendered speechless at the sight of Joohyun riding on horseback, all happy and free, forgetting the burden of the crown that she used to carry, laughing in delight as she called out her name. "Seungwan!"

Seungwan couldn't believe her eyes and stood rooted in place. She didn't dare move and wouldn't even dare breathe. This is what dreams must feel. After dismounting off the horse, Joohyun approached the stunned girl with a single purpose. Her eyes burned with intensity when she grabbed Seungwan's collar and pulled her in for a kiss.

It was a kiss that contained worship and reclamation. It was a kiss that shattered the distance between heaven and earth. It was a kiss that brought two different worlds together as one.

In this kiss, Joohyun wasn't a princess and Seungwan wasn't a servant.

No more crowns and titles.

In this kiss, they were equals.

No more barriers and inhibitions.

In this kiss, Joohyun was just Joohyun and Seungwan was just Seungwan.

When Joohyun pulled away, tears cascaded down her cheeks as she gave Seungwan the promise of forever.

"I'd go anywhere with you."

#red velvet #red velvet scenario #wenrene #irene #wendy #seulgi #yerim #joy #royal au #childhood friends #angst #fluff

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kalakian · 4 years ago

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Mahirap maging Pilipina, ngunit masarap sa pakiramdam na sa panahon ni Rizal, itinuring n’yang kapantay ng kalalakihan ang kababaihan. Malinaw ito sa kanyang sulat para sa kababaihan ng Malolos.

To the Young Women of Malolos

by José Rizal

When I wrote Noli Me Tangere, I asked myself whether bravery was a common thing in the young women of our people. I brought back to my recollection and reviewed those I had known since my infancy, but there were only few who seem to come up to my ideal. There was, it is true, an abundance of girls with agreeable manners, beautiful ways, and modest demeanor, but there was in all an admixture of servitude and deference to the words or whims of their so-called "spiritual fathers" (as if the spirit or soul had any father other than God), due to excessive kindness, modesty, or perhaps ignorance. They seemed faced plants sown and reared in darkness, having flowers without perfume and fruits without sap.

However, when the news of what happened at Malolos reached us, I saw my error, and great was my rejoicing. After all, who is to blame me? I did not know Malolos nor its young women, except one called Emila [Emilia Tiongson, whom Rizal met in 1887], and her I knew by name only.

Now that you have responded to our first appeal in the interest of the welfare of the people; now that you have set an example to those who, like you, long to have their eyes opened and be delivered from servitude, new hopes are awakened in us and we now even dare to face adversity, because we have you for our allies and are confident of victory. No longer does the Filipina stand with her head bowed nor does she spend her time on her knees, because she is quickened by hope in the future; no longer will the mother contribute to keeping her daughter in darkness and bring her up in contempt and moral annihilation. And no longer will the science of all sciences consist in blind submission to any unjust order, or in extreme complacency, nor will a courteous smile be deemed the only weapon against insult or humble tears the ineffable panacea for all tribulations. You know that the will of God is different from that of the priest; that religiousness does not consist of long periods spent on your knees, nor in endless prayers, big rosarios, and grimy scapularies [religious garment showing devotion], but in a spotless conduct, firm intention and upright judgment. You also know that prudence does not consist in blindly obeying any whim of the little tin god, but in obeying only that which is reasonable and just, because blind obedience is itself the cause and origin of those whims, and those guilty of it are really to be blamed. The official or friar can no longer assert that they alone are responsible for their unjust orders, because God gave each individual reason and a will of his or her own to distinguish the just from the unjust; all were born without shackles and free, and nobody has a right to subjugate the will and the spirit of another your thoughts. And, why should you submit to another your thoughts, seeing that thought is noble and free?

It is cowardice and erroneous to believe that saintliness consists in blind obedience and that prudence and the habit of thinking are presumptuous. Ignorance has ever been ignorance, and never prudence and honor. God, the primal source of all wisdom, does not demand that man, created in his image and likeness, allow himself to be deceived and hoodwinked, but wants us to use and let shine the light of reason with which He has so mercifully endowed us. He may be compared to the father who gave each of his sons a torch to light their way in the darkness bidding them keep its light bright and take care of it, and not put it out and trust to the light of the others, but to help and advise each other to fiind the right path. They would be madman were they to follow the light of another, only to come to a fall, and the father could unbraid them and say to them: "Did I not give each of you his own torch," but he cold not say so if the fall were due to the light of the torch of him who fell, as the light might have been dim and the road very bad.

The deceiver is fond of using the saying that "It is presumptuous to rely on one's own judgment," but, in my opinion, it is more presumptuous for a person to put his judgment above that of the others and try to make it prevail over theirs. It is more presumptuous for a man to constitute himself into an idol and pretend to be in communication of thought with God; and it is more than presumptuous and even blasphemous for a person to attribute every movement of his lips to God, to represent every whim of his as the will of God, and to brand his own enemy as an enemy of God. Of course, we should not consult our own judgment alone, but hear the opinion of others before doing what may seem most reasonable to us. The wild man from the hills, if clad in a priest's robe, remains a hillman and can only deceive the weak and ignorant. And, to make my argument more conclusive, just buy a priest's robe as the Franciscans wear it and put it on a carabao [domestic water buffalo], and you will be lucky if the carabao does not become lazy on account of the robe. But I will leave this subject to speak of something else.

Youth is a flower-bed that is to bear rich fruit and must accumulate wealth for its descendants. What offspring will be that of a woman whose kindness of character is expressed by mumbled prayers; who knows nothing by heart but awits [hymns], novenas, and the alleged miracles; whose amusement consists in playing panguingue [a card game] or in the frequent confession of the same sins? What sons will she have but acolytes, priest's servants, or cock fighters? It is the mothers who are responsible for the present servitude of our compatriots, owing to the unlimited trustfulness of their loving hearts, to their ardent desire to elevate their sons Maturity is the fruit of infancy and the infant is formed on the lap of its mother. The mother who can only teach her child how to kneel and kiss hands must not expect sons with blood other than that of vile slaves. A tree that grows in the mud is unsubstantial and good only for firewood. If her son should have a bold mind, his boldness will be deceitful and will be like the bat that cannot show itself until the ringing of vespers. They say that prudence is sanctity. But, what sanctity have they shown us? To pray and kneel a lot, kiss the hand of the priests, throw money away on churches, and believe all the friar sees fit to tell us; gossip, callous rubbing of noses. . . .

As to the mites and gifts of God, is there anything in the world that does not belong to God? What would you say of a servant making his master a present of a cloth borrowed from that very master? Who is so vain, so insane that he will give alms to God and believe that the miserable thing he has given will serve to clothe the Creator of all things? Blessed be they who succor their fellow men, aid the poor and feed the hungry; but cursed be they who turn a dead ear to supplications of the poor, who only give to him who has plenty and spend their money lavishly on silver altar hangings for the thanksgiving, or in serenades and fireworks. The money ground out of the poor is bequeathed to the master so that he can provide for chains to subjugate, and hire thugs and executioners. Oh, what blindness, what lack of understanding.

Saintliness consists in the first place in obeying the dictates of reason, happen what may. "It is acts and not words that I want of you," said Christ. "Not everyone that sayeth unto me, Lord, Lord shall enter into the kingdom of heaven; but he that doeth the will of my Father which is in Heaven." Saintliness does not consist in abjectness, nor is the successor of Christ to be recognized by the fact that he gives his hand to be kissed. Christ did not give the kiss of peace to the Pharisees and never gave his hand to be kissed. He did not cater to the rich and vain; He did not mention scapularies, nor did He make rosaries, or solicit offerings for the sacrifice of the Mass or exact payments for His prayers. Saint John did not demand a fee on the River Jordan, nor did Christ teach for gain. Why, then, do the friars now refuse to stir a foot unless paid in advance? And, as if they were starving, they sell scapularies, rosaries, bits, and other things which are nothing but schemes for making money and a detriment to the soul; because even if all the rags on earth were converted into scapularies and all the trees in the forest into rosaries, and if the skins of all the beasts were made into belts, and if all the priests of the earth mumbled prayers over all this and sprinkled oceans of holy water over it, this would not purify a rogue or condone sin where there is no repentance. Thus, also, through cupidity and love of money, they will, for a price, revoke the numerous prohibitions such as those against eating meat, marrying close relatives, etc. You can do almost anything if you but grease their palms. Why that? Can God be bribed and bought off, and blinded by money, nothing more nor less than a friar? The brigand who has obtained a bull of compromise can live calmly on the proceeds of his robbery, because he will be forgiven. God, then, will sit at a table where theft provides the viands? Has the Omnipotent become a pauper that He must assume the role of the excise man or gendarme? If that is the God whom the friar adores, then I turn my back upon that God.

Let us be reasonable and open our eyes, especially you women, because you are the first to influence the consciousness of man. Remember that a good mother does not resemble the mother that the friar has created; she must bring up her child to be the image of the true God, not of a blackmailing, a grasping God, but of a God who is the father of us all, who is just; who does not suck the life-blood of the poor like a vampire, nor scoffs at the agony of the sorely beset, nor makes a crooked path of the path of justice. Awaken and prepare the will of our children towards all that is honorable, judged by proper standards, to all that is sincere and firm of purpose, clear judgment, clear procedure, honesty in act and deed, love for the fellowman and respect for God; this is what you must teach your children. And, seeing that life is full of thorns and thistles, you must fortify their minds against any stroke of adversity and accustom them to danger. The people cannot expect honor nor prosperity so long as they will educate their children in a wrong way, so long as the woman who guides the child in his steps is slavish and ignorant. No good water comes from a turbid, bitter spring; no savory fruit comes from acrid seed.

The duties that woman has to perform in order to deliver the people from suffering are of no little importance, but be they as they may, they will not be beyond the strength and stamina of the Filipino people. The power and good judgment of the women of the Philippines are well known, and it is because of this that she has been hoodwinked, and tied, and rendered pusillanimous, and now her enslavers rest at ease, because so long as they can keep the Filipina mother a slave, so long will they be able to make slaves of her children. The cause of the backwardness of Asia lies in the fact that there the women are ignorant, are slaves; while Europe and America are powerful because there the women are free and well-educated and endowed with lucid intellect and a strong will.

We know that you lack instructive books; we know that nothing is added to your intellect, day by day, save that which is intended to dim its natural brightness; all this we know, hence our desire to bring you the light that illuminates your equals here in Europe. If that which I tell you does not provoke your anger, and if you will pay a little attention to it then, however dense the mist may be that befogs our people, I will make the utmost efforts to have it dissipated by the bright rays of the sun, which will give light, thought they be dimmed. We shall not feel any fatigue if you help us: God, too, will help to scatter the mist, because He is the God of truth: He will restore to its pristine condition the fame of the Filipina in whom we now miss only a criterion of her own, because good qualities she has enough and to spare. This is our dream; this is the desire we cherish in our hearts; to restore the honor of woman, who is half of our heart, our companion in the joys and tribulations of life. If she is a maiden, the young man should love her not only because of her beauty and her amiable character, but also on account of her fortitude of mind and loftiness of purpose, which quicken and elevate the feeble and timid and ward off all vain thoughts. Let the maiden be the pride of her country and command respect, because it is a common practice on the part of Spaniards and friars here who have returned from the Islands to speak of the Filipina as complaisant and ignorant, as if all should be thrown into the same class because of the missteps of a few, and as if women of weak character did not exist in other lands. As to purity what could the Filipina not hold up to others!

Nevertheless, the returning Spaniards and friars, talkative and fond of gossip, can hardly find time enough to brag and bawl, amidst guffaws and insulting remarks, that a certain woman was thus; that she behaved thus at the convent and conducted herself thus with the Spaniards who on the occasion was her guest, and other things that set your teeth on edge when you think of them which, in the majority of cases, were faults due to candor, excessive kindness, meekness, or perhaps ignorance and were all the work of the defamer himself. There is a Spaniard now in high office, who has set at our table and enjoyed our hospitality in his wanderings through the Philippines and who, upon his return to Spain, rushed forthwith into print and related that on one occasion in Pampanga he demanded hospitality and ate, and slept at a house and the lady of the house conducted herself in such and such a manner with him; this is how he repaid the lady for her supreme hospitality! Similar insinuations are made by the friars to the chance visitor from Spain concerning their very obedient confesandas, hand-kissers, etc., accompanied by smiles and very significant winkings of the eye. In a book published by D. Sinibaldo de Mas and in other friar sketches sins are related of which women accused themselves in the confessional and of which the friars made no secret in talking to their Spanish visitors seasoning them, at the best, with idiotic and shameless tales not worthy of credence. I cannot repeat here the shameless stories that a friar told Mas and to which Mas attributed no value whatever. Every time we hear or read anything of this kind, we ask each other: Are the Spanish women all cut after the pattern of the Holy Virgin Mary and the Filipinas all reprobates? I believe that if we are to balance accounts in this delicate question, perhaps, . . . But I must drop the subject because I am neither a confessor nor a Spanish traveler and have no business to take away anybody's good name. I shall let this go and speak of the duties of women instead.

A people that respect women, like the Filipino people, must know the truth of the situation in order to be able to do what is expected of it. It seems an established fact that when a young student falls in love, he throws everything to the dogs -- knowledge, honor, and money, as if a girl could not do anything but sow misfortune. The bravest youth becomes a coward when he married, and the born coward becomes shameless, as if he had been waiting to get married in order to show his cowardice. The son, in order to hide his pusillanimity, remembers his mother, swallows his wrath, suffers his ears to be boxed, obeys the most foolish order, and and becomes an accomplice to his own dishonor. It should be remembered that where nobody flees there is no pursuer; when there is no little fish, there can not be a big one. Why does the girl not require of her lover a noble and honored name, a manly heart offering protection to her weakness, and a high spirit incapable of being satisfied with engendering slaves? Let her discard all fear, let her behave nobly and not deliver her youth to the weak and faint-hearted. When she is married, she must aid her husband, inspire him with courage, share his perils, refrain from causing him worry and sweeten his moments of affection, always remembering that there is no grief that a brave heart can not bear and there is no bitterer inheritance than that of infamy and slavery. Open your children's eyes so that they may jealously guard their honor, love their fellowmen and their native land, and do their duty. Always impress upon them they must prefer dying with honor to living in dishonor. The women of Sparta should serve you as an example should serve you as an example in this; I shall give some of their characteristics.

When a mother handed the shield to her son as he was marching to battle, she said nothing to him but this: "Return with it, or on it," which mean, come back victorious or dead, because it was customary with the routed warrior to throw away his shield, while the dead warrior was carried home on his shield. A mother received word that her son had been killed in battle and the army routed. She did not say a word, but expressed her thankfulness that her son had been saved from disgrace. However, when her son returned alive, the mother put on mourning. One of the mothers who went out to meet the warriors returning from battle was told by one that her three sons had fallen. I do not ask you that, said the mother, but whether we have been victorious or not. We have been victorious -- answered the warrior. If that is so, then let us thank God, and she went to the temple.

Once upon a time a king of theirs, who had been defeated, hid in the temple, because he feared their popular wrath. The Spartans resolved to shut him up there and starve him to death. When they were blocking the door, the mother was the first to bring stones. These things were in accordance with the custom there, and all Greece admired the Spartan woman. Of all women -- a woman said jestingly -- only your Spartans have power over the men. Quite natural -- they replied -- of all women only we give birth to men. Man, the Spartan women said, was not born to life for himself alone but for his native land. So long as this way of thinking prevailed and they had that kind of women in Sparta, no enemy was able to put his foot upon her soil, nor was there a woman in Sparta who ever saw a hostile army.

I do not expect to be believed simply because it is I who am saying this; there are many people who do not listen to reason, but will listen only to those who wear the cassock or have gray hair or no teeth; but while it is true that the aged should be venerated, because of their travails and experience, yet the life I have lived, consecrated to the happiness of the people, adds some years, though not many of my age. I do not pretend to be looked upon as an idol or fetish and to be believed and listened to with the eyes closed, the head bowed, and the arms crossed over the breast; what I ask of all is to reflect on what I tell him, think it over and shift it carefully through the sieve of reasons.

First of all. That the tyranny of some is possible only through cowardice and negligence on the part of others.

Second. What makes one contemptible is lack of dignity and abject fear of him who holds one in contempt.

Third. Ignorance is servitude, because as a man thinks, so he is; a man who does not think for himself and allowed himself to be guided by the thought of another is like the beast led by a halter.

Fourth. He who loves his independence must first aid his fellowman, because he who refuses protection to others will find himself without it; the isolated rib in the buri is easily broken, but not so the broom made of the ribs of the palm bound together.

Fifth. If the Filipina will not change her mode of being, let her rear no more children, let her merely give birth to them. She must cease to be the mistress of the home, otherwise she will unconsciously betray husband, child, native land, and all.

Sixth. All men are born equal, naked, without bonds. God did not create man to be a slave; nor did he endow him with intelligence to have him hoodwinked, or adorn him with reason to have him deceived by others. It is not fatuous to refuse to worship one's equal, to cultivate one's intellect, and to make use of reason in all things. Fatuous is he who makes a god of him, who makes brutes of others, and who strives to submit to his whims all that is reasonable and just.

Seventh. Consider well what kind of religion they are teaching you. See whether it is the will of God or according to the teachings of Christ that the poor be succored and those who suffer alleviated. Consider what they preaching to you, the object of the sermon, what is behind the masses, novenas, rosaries, scapularies, images, miracles, candles, belts, etc. etc; which they daily keep before your minds; ears and eyes; jostling, shouting, and coaxing; investigate whence they came and whiter they go and then compare that religion with the pure religion of Christ and see whether the pretended observance of the life of Christ does not remind you of the fat milch cow or the fattened pig, which is encouraged to grow fat nor through love of the animal, but for grossly mercenary motives.

Let us, therefore, reflect; let us consider our situation and see how we stand. May these poorly written lines aid you in your good purpose and help you to pursue the plan you have initiated. "May your profit be greater than the capital invested;" and I shall gladly accept the usual reward of all who dare tell your people the truth. May your desire to educate yourself be crowned with success; may you in the garden of learning gather not bitter, but choice fruit, looking well before you eat because on the surface of the globe all is deceit, and the enemy sows weeds in your seedling plot.

All this is the ardent desire of your compatriot.

JOSÉ RIZAL

***

Ang mga larawan ay kuha sa pelikulang Dahling Nick.

Ang buong kopya ng To the Young Women of Malolos ay nakuha sa https://kwentongebabuhayrizal.blogspot.com/

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ashtheshortstack · 5 years ago

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take my scars & make them stars - prologue

Rating: M Ship: Kristoff/Anna prologue

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Sick Fic, Cancer Fic, Chronic Illness, Chemotherapy, Modern AU, Coffee Shop AU, Fluff and Angst, Fluff, Eventual Smut, Angst with a happy ending, Mutual Pining, Mentions of Character Death

Read on Ao3

Next Chapter

Anna Anderson had grown up in a rather… sheltered environment, not that she’d like to admit it. When admitting to a sheltered life, it meant she was implying she was naïve, innocent, and unsure of the world. Which wasn’t true at all.

Mostly.

Being raised in her household meant she was always in Elsa’s shadow. Her elder sister was born premature, and their mother had a lot of complications during delivery. Elsa was labeled a “sickly child” by her parents and family. Anna shouldn’t have even been born as a matter of fact. Her mother, Iduna, was told Elsa would be the one and only child she could ever give birth to.

Clearly, that was wrong. Anna came into this world as a “miracle baby,” but a healthy one. Not one that her parents needed to fret over like Elsa.

Anna couldn’t even count the amount of doctor visits, hospital visits, or nights she was left alone with the housekeepers while her parents rushed Elsa out the door as she coughed wildly in her father’s arms. It was a miracle itself that Elsa survived cases of the flu, bronchitis, and even pneumonia once as much as she had.

“Can Elsa play today?” she had always asked.

Her father shook his head. “No, Anna. Elsa is sick today.”

“When will she get better?”

“I don’t know, Anna, I don’t know.”

When Elsa was seven, Agnarr and Iduna decided it would best to keep Anna away, for fear of her contaminating Elsa in any possible way. Her sister began wearing gloves on the regular. A mask over her face anytime they visited highly populated places. There were no more family vacations, no more sneaking outside to play, no more leaving the house.

Anna was ripped away from her first year of kindergarten as she and Elsa had begun homeschooling instead. Not together, of course. They weren’t allowed to be in the same room hardly, let alone do schoolwork together. Anna was removed from school because of the germs she could contract from other children. The possibility of having friends was suddenly unavailable.

Her parents were often busy with work as well. With Agnarr being the CEO of the family business, and Iduna often shoveling whatever overloaded paperwork he had, they didn’t have time to homeschool their children themselves. They had money for that. So, they hired tutors to teach their children. And for Anna… that meant she rarely saw her parents at all.

Elsa had their undivided attention. Whatever Elsa needed… at any time. No more bedtime stories for Anna… no more play time with Anna… She never wanted for anything. Anyone from the outside looking in would see that Anna had everything. Toys, games, books… but not the attention of her parents.

Not what she knew she deserved.

Anna could recall the lonely nights, curled up in her bed with a Gameboy in her hand. No one would ever pop in and tell her lights out. Sometimes, only sometimes, Anna wished she could be sick too. She wanted her mother and father to check on her. She wanted them to be concerned for her well-being like they were for Elsa’s.

She was special too, wasn’t she? They told her she was a miracle. A child her mother wasn’t even supposed to have. And at times… Anna wished she hadn’t. What was the point of existing when no one cared that you did?

And that’s when Anna found herself nose deep in romantic novels… Hoping to feel something. Anything at all.

She found herself wishing for that romantic moment of a prince coming to toss pebbles at her window. The desire for a man to come save her from this miserable life she’d been living consumed her mind. It was the one thing the prayed for, begged for… though there was no way to meet anyone when she was cooped up at home. Never allowed to leave the mansion for fear of getting her sister sick.

And no matter how tempted she was, Anna could never leave. If something were to happen to Elsa because she broke the rules, the guilt would eat her alive. It was a thought she couldn’t have sitting on her conscious. It was one her parents would never let her live down. She couldn’t imagine what they’d say if she was responsible for making their first born ill.

With that, Anna decided to continue her streak of dubious daughter. She followed the rules, played nice, stayed out of Elsa’s space.

And still sometimes wondered if Prince Charming would show up for her to let her hair down to him.

o~o~o~o

Thankfully, Elsa got better the older the sisters got. She was still a bit OCD, standoffish, and their parents continued to cater to her every whim. But at least they started to sit at the dinner table together every night. It was largely spread out. Elsa sat on the opposite end as to stay away from everyone else. But it was a start. Being able to talk to her parents again thrilled her. Getting to know Elsa again, her sister she’d been so close to before illnesses got the better of her, was so refreshing as well.

Anna had done everything she could to stay close to Elsa: slipping her drawings, toys, and cards under the door when she could. There was never a response, but she could see Elsa’s shadow take the item every time.

The car accident that took their parents from them when Anna was fifteen was completely unexpected. She wasn’t sure how they would make it through. Elsa would be next in line as CEO when she turned twenty-one, which was a lot of pressure to put on someone who had just lost her parents. Especially parents that coddled everything she did.

Gerda, one of their housekeepers, engaged in the lengthy process of becoming Anna’s legal guardian so the sisters could remain together in their home. It was a lot of paperwork. A lot of issues with the courts. But Gerda knew that Elsa couldn’t be Anna’s legal guardian as her health wasn’t up to par. Besides, it would only be three years until Anna was eighteen herself and could move away from home. She held onto that thought through it all. If she could just make it to eighteen, she could move out and find someone to be with.

The thought came to life sooner than Anna had expected. Gerda gave Anna the choice of enrolling in school and, of course, Anna took the opportunity to begin high school.

Which was just as much of a nightmare as television and books made it out to be. There were thankfully girls that were kind to her and took them under their wing. They had all warned her about Hans, but she didn’t take heed them. All she saw was that prince in her fairy tale dream she’d been waiting to come true. He was the first boy to show interest in her, so she’d be damned if she didn’t take the opportunity to fall in love.

She convinced herself Hans was her “true love” like all the stories told her. Elsa didn’t like him when she introduced him, but Anna brushed it off to Elsa really not liking anyone. She should’ve listened to her sister. Listened to everyone, in fact. Anna wanted to deny she was clueless, but she was. She had no idea what love was really like. She’d barely gotten it from her parents. She and Elsa didn’t start getting close until after their parents were gone…

o~o~o~o

Senior Prom was the night that turned her dreams upside down. Hans whispered how “hot” she was in that dress. She was beautiful, he was lucky to have her, he wanted her on his arm to show off because he had the “prettiest girl in school” with him. He said all the right things. All the praises she needed to hear to flatter his way under her dress.

She’d let him. She wanted to get it over with, right? All of her friends weren’t virgins anymore. Anna was in high school, and she’d be in college the next year. It was normal to have sex with your boyfriend. Especially after prom. That’s what books told her. That’s what society told her.

The guilt ate at her afterwards. She wanted to enjoy it. This was her boyfriend, right? It should’ve been magical and great. Then why didn’t it feel that way? They were safe. Used protection. It wasn’t as if they were irresponsible.

But her body no longer felt like her own. He’d suddenly taken that from her. She felt dirty. Maybe, somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew he was no good for her. Knew he was using her. Knew he didn’t love her. The rose-colored glasses seemed to shatter… but would anyone else ever want to be with her? She didn’t think so… She was just some broken girl with dead parents and hardly a home life. The fact that Hans even spared her a glance was lucky, at best. Maybe, her wish came true in some form or fashion.

Thus, she stayed. She desperately wanted someone to care. Hans had given her attention when no one else did. So what if wasn’t the “one true love” ideal relationship she’d always dreamed of? It was still someone to be with her. Someone to kiss, to hug, to cuddle… even if he was kind of a jerk.

And she’d been stupid enough to stay with him through their first two semesters of college, despite how much worse he seemed to get. He got new friends in college… if Hans had been a jerk before, he was a real dipshit after he gathered his knew college posse. Anna had no desire to be around his frat buddies. They were obnoxious at best. They were loud, drank uncontrollable amount of beers, smoked who knows what all the time.

Everything Anna had been conditioned to avoid like the plague. She wouldn’t dare tell Elsa, who had long since taken over the company and had much less time to pay attention to Anna’s relationship woes. Elsa seemed to have given up the idea that Anna would dump the pretentious boy and accepted he was a part of her younger sister’s life.

Despite how miserable he made Anna, she was just so desperate. She’d realize that eventually when she continued to stay even though she’d overheard him say to a frat buddy that he started dating Anna in high school because there would be money to inherit eventually. It broke her heart.

She still said “yes” anyway when he proposed.

o~o~o~o

It was the diagnosis that did her in.

When the doctor informed her, she had stage two breast cancer at the ripe age of twenty-one, a rarity. Anna decided a few things in that moment: if she was going to go through this, it sure as hell wasn’t going to be with Hans, if she was going to die (though a stage two diagnosis was hardly a death sentence especially since she was so young, but just a precaution) she sure as hell wasn’t going to let Hans have her money and profit off her dying, and she took this as her wake-up call, it was time to live her life.

She marched into his home, not even to bother knocking on the door. Only to find her fiancé lip-locking with some dark skinned, bleach blonde, who was obviously trying too hard. Anna barked out a laugh when she saw them.

Hans gaped, eyes wide as he pushed the girl. “H-Honey! Can you believe this bitch!? She just came onto me!”

Anna quickly slipped the ring off her finger before waving at him. “Oh, don’t stop on my account. I’m just here to get my things because we’re through,” she stated boldly before chucking the ring at him. It smacked him in the forehead, and he yelped. “I have cancer, too, by the way,” Anna chimed as cheerily as she could. The girl on the floor just sat stunned at the whole exchange. Hans seemed to be a bit shocked at her admission as well.

“Y-You’re sick?”

“Not that you care, but no. I’m not sick, I have cancer. There’s a difference.” Sick was a word she associated with Elsa. The sickly one. That wasn’t Anna. She wouldn’t be that girl.

Hans quickly stood from the couch. “But, hun, you need someone to be there for you through this.”

She tried not to laugh at the term of endearment. Sweet talking her wasn’t going to convince her to stay, especially not after she just caught him sucking face with a sorority girl on their couch. Anna started up the stairs to get her things, glancing back at him. “Certainly not you. I have my sister.”

“Oh, please, Anna. What has Elsa ever done for you?”

The glare she shot him was deadly enough, she hoped. “Warned me about you, for one. And I’ve put up with your shit long enough, Hans Westergard.”

His feigned concerned expression quickly turned into a smirk, as if he could finally drop the act. “Please, you think your sister will take care of you? What a joke, Anna, you said yourself she couldn’t even take care of herself growing up.”

There it was. That dark tone his voice took when he was talking about her behind her back. The one he tried to hide from her, but she’d heard anyway. He was only trying to keep her because he wanted to use her. He definitely saw dollar signs knowing she was diagnosed with cancer of all things. Hans didn’t know the details, so of course, he would just think she was going to die.

She continued up the stairs to their room, and he followed after her. Anna grabbed her suitcases from the closet. Yanking her clothes from the drawers and closets, she began shoving her garments into the bags. Hans stood in the doorway. If he was going to try to block her in, he had another thing coming.

“Honestly, Anna, this is ridiculous. You need someone to take care of you.”

“Like hell it’ll be you. I’d rather be surrounded by people who love me.”

He chuckled, leaning against the doorway. “Oh, if only someone did.”

Anna felt her fingers quivering. Oh, how badly she wanted to chunk something as his face. But she didn’t. Knocking him out with a snowglobe would be a poor decision. “You said you did,” she hissed. “But I’ve known for so long that it was fake. That is was all a lie. But I still stayed and hoped you would change like a complete fool.” She slammed the suitcases shut and zipped them quickly. “Not anymore, Hans.”

Walking towards him, he did as she suspected and blocked her exit. She gave him a hard stare. “I’ll have a moving truck come to pick up the furniture my sister paid for in a few days.”

“You’re not going anywhere.”

Her fist collided straight with his jaw. Hans stumbled backwards, falling to his ass on the carpeted floor. Rubbing his jaw, he glared up at her in surprise. Anna fled immediately. The girl was sitting on the couch awkwardly, staring at the engagement ring Hans had sat on the table.

“Good luck with him,” Anna blurted before slamming the front door behind her.

o~o~o~o

As she drove away, the house she’d shared with Hans faded quickly in the background, she shed tears she’d kept in for so, so long. She kept her gaze on the road, driving towards the mansion, and wiped away the dampness on her cheeks.

Anna had led a sheltered life and had had many wishes growing up. She wished to have a prince to come save her from the mansion and take her away. She wished to be sick like her sister, so her parents would pay her the same attention they gave Elsa…

She realized in that moment that she shouldn’t had had such desires in the first place. Wishing on a star in real life was entirely overrated…

#kristanna #kristoff x anna #the queen & her reindeer king #ash writes #frozen fic #anna x kristoff #kristanna fic #tw: cancer #tw: character death #cancer fic #angst #hurt/comfort #mentions of chemotherapy #tms&mts #take my scars & make them stars

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satbiym · 6 years ago

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Written for @yearonezine with accompanying art by @creemsicaal

Bakugou Katsuki's Five Tenets for Surviving Your First Year at UA High

by Bakugou Katsuki

Okay, listen up, ‘cuz I ain’t gonna repeat myself.

So, you grew up thinking you were hot shit stuff; you ruled your middle school and now you think you have what it takes to become the number one hero in the world.

Think again, Extra.

Here are the facts, you ain’t special: statistically, biologically, nor competently.

So, to console your sorry ass soul as it deals with this harsh epiphany, here are my five rules for coping with your miserable existence:

You don’t matter. You can’t make a difference in the long run.

There’s no cause really worth fighting for. The only thing worth pledging your allegiance to is winning.

Inspiration is for artists and losers who make excuses for not being able to do their job. The only thing you need to win is yourself.

It’s not worth trying if you can’t even qualify for the unspoken rules of the game.

You have limits. There will always be people intrinsically better than you. Accept that, and try to move on.

…

Now, if you nodded along to even one of those rules, pack up your bags and move to another school more suited to your mediocre reality.

‘Cuz we have no place for you, and even if we did that place would be better empty than wasted on someone who believes in nothing and no one, not even themselves.

UA High is not in the business of catering to the whims of those too fucking cowardly to face the harsh realities of the world.

We’re not a charity, and you will never be more than a sidekick for a D-list hero in a suburb.

For the few of you remaining, your fate is still to be decided. But since you haven’t managed to piss annoy me too much, here is what you need to know to survive your first year at UA High.

1. The only people in this world capable of creating change are the ones who can will it into reality.

Unlike what dear ole mom and dad might have told you, your quirk ain’t worth jack shit. It’s what you do with it that’ll shape your life as a hero. To be able to even begin to do that, you need an indomitable will. The kind of will that will give you the confidence to willingly run into a battle where you’ll be outnumbered and outgunned.

It’s not the size of the ship, but the motion of the ocean.

2. Heroes win. But they don’t become heroes because they win, they win because they’re heroes.

Great heroes show signs of their brilliance early on, so that every Tom, Dick and Harry can later boast to his buddies over beer as they all nurse their mid-life crisis, that they knew it all along.

If a battle is already won, then it’s not really a battle.

Any victory gained because of the incompetence of your opponents is not a victory worth celebrating.

Heroes win, and they win by a long shot, until no one can contest their superiority, but heroes don’t go into fights knowing they will win.

That’s not winning, that’s playing it safe.

3. Symbols matter.

I don’t quote a lot of people, but all you losers could learn a thing or two by reading The Art of War by Sun Tzu.

“The supreme art of war is to subdue the enemy without fighting.”

When you take away someone’s hope and inspiration, you take away their ability to fight back.

Break the spirit, and you have broken the man.

4. Don’t fit the requirements? Apply anyway.

The minute a hero disqualifies themselves from a position, that��s the moment they’ve truly lost.

Rejection is a bitch-ass mindset.

Accept it, and you become it.

Don’t be a reject.

5. Reached your body’s limits? Keep pushing.

Limitations are for lil bitches, fucking cowards, morons those who accept limitations.

While there might be people better than you right now, the only thing keeping them at the top is you and your lazy compliance.

Tear those idols off of their pedestals and claw your way to the top.

The only people who are limited are those who accept it.

And that’s it.

That’s all you need to know to survive your first year at UA High, if you have any questions, keep them to yourself, ‘cuz I don’t care. Don’t talk to me, I ain’t your friend.

And don’t forget, I’m better than you, and will crush you like the worthless ant you are.

Also, for fuck’s pete’s sake, learn how to use a knife.

#bnha #boku no hero academia #katsuki bakugou #bakugou katsuki #bnha zines #mypost #myfic #myzines

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quirkycombatants · 5 years ago

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Look at the way the narcissist treats others. If the narcissist lies, manipulates, hurts, and disrespects others, he or she will eventually treat you the same way. Don’t fall for the fantasy that you’re different and will be spared.

Okay so since I wrote about Mineta being written as being like, completely unwell, let’s talk about Bakugou. Now, I should preface this by saying that I actually like Bakugou being a character; I like the idea of him having slow burn growth and actually developing and being a good contrast to Izuku. That said, I don’t think that the writer realizes that what he’s writing is a complete and total narcissist.

Now I should point out as well that part of the problem is that we’re meant to empathize with Bakugou, and that’s very hard because he’s not exactly a sympathetic character. You can root for him, but you can root for Endeavor too, and they share a lot of characteristics.

But a major problem is that he’s narcissistic to the point of it being extremely unhealthy; he divides everyone and everything in his life into winners and losers, and if you’re not winning, then you’re losing. He plays a zero-sum game with everything and everyone. He treats everyone around him as being things to benefit himself, to the point that his great development in the first year class battle was that he could use other people to enhance himself. That’s not so much a character development as it is the understanding that self enrichment is better when you use other people to do it.

Speaking of which, the fact that he continually berates and degrades everyone around him, including people who are supposed to be his friends, is a bit of a problem. It’s worse when he continues to do it even when they object to it or it makes them unhappy. He shows so little regard for their feelings or their needs, that it almost reaches the point of parody. Hell, he didn’t both to learn their names, because that would require him to see other people as people, and it’s clear Bakugou sees other people entirely through the lens of how they benefit or restrict him.

All of his vulnerable moments are also in relation to himself; when he’s captured in the beginning, he’s upset that he’s being saved by someone he considers subhuman. When he’s upset about All Might losing his quirk, he’s upset that he’s the one that did it, rather than the great loss the world has now suffered. It’s like if you burned the Mona Lisa and then thought the worst thing about it was how much it impacted you.

But that’s relatively small potatoes to the fact that he seems entirely against the idea of other people being happy. Example, when everyone else is enjoying themselves in a snowball fight, Bakugou’s first reaction is to pelt Deku with a snowball covered in ice, despite knowing that this would hurt, and that it’s a dick thing to do. It’s a lot like a cat when people aren’t paying attention to it; it’s first reaction is to cause a problem to focus attention back on it. It’s not just that no one is paying attention to them, it’s that they’re having fun, and if they’re not the one having fun, then no one else should be either. The inability to just let other people be is a real problem. It’s also a problem that they are still bullying Izuku, someone who he routinely bullied his entire life, but that’s a whole other kettle of fish.

But I feel like the single most problematic issue with Bakugou is his idea of what makes a hero. When he’s captured by the league of villains, his response to them as to why he won’t join is that All Might always wins. Thus, his idea of a hero is someone who wins. Not a good person, not someone who helps others, not someone who does the right thing; a hero in his mind is someone who wins. And ‘winning’ means violently defeating your enemy with overwhelming force.

To put it another way, Bakugou is like a cop that joined the police force for the sake of being able to lord power over other people.

Made worse, is that there’s no tragic backstory to explain this. He himself admitted that he got a quirk, he realized he was naturally better than other people, and then came to the conclusion that this meant that he should be allowed to do whatever he wanted. That rules and conventions didn’t apply. The strong do what they want and the weak suffer what they must. It was entirely find to beat up Izuku, because Izuku was weaker than he was; it was entirely fine to do whatever he wanted to people who were beneath him.

This is not behavior that you would tolerate from anyone in any industry. You would not pair that guy up with explosives and put that guy in a position of power, because people who see themselves as the arbiters of what is and is not right get out of control very quickly.

So when the public goes ‘yeah isn’t he sorta acting like a villain’ we’re supposed to think that they’re out of bounds, but they’re right. If it wasn’t for All Might existing, there’s no reason to believe that he wouldn’t have been a villain. At present, there’s little separating him from Endeavor, other than Endeavor treats his employees better than Bakugou treats his friends.

Now this isn’t to say that he hasn’t improved or grown as a character. He has. In fact, he’s grown beyond the point where he tried to murder Izuku during the first time they fought. How no one, no one, at this school looked at that behavior and went ‘this is clearly someone who is unstable and unwell, we should probably get this guy a councilor’ is beyond me. There’s being abrasive, there’s being abusive, and there’s being unstable. If anyone acted like that in any school, you can be certain the police would probably be involved at that point.

And again, I actually like having him around as someone who can force other people to engage in character development. I like having him as a contrast. But he’s not actually developed that much. Instead, he’s the same narcissist as ever, to the point where the idea that anyone, anyone, might know something he doesn’t makes him irate and actively aggressive. The idea that he’s not always on top makes him violent. That’s really bad behavior for anyone, but especially a child.

And I’m not taking the tact that it’s his fault. In my eyes, he’s immensely unwell. Just look at the traits common with Narcisistic Personality Disorder:

Grandiose sense of self-importance

Grandiosity is the defining characteristic of narcissism. More than just arrogance or vanity, grandiosity is an unrealistic sense of superiority. Narcissists believe they are unique or “special” and can only be understood by other special people. What’s more, they are too good for anything average or ordinary. They only want to associate and be associated with other high-status people, places, and things.Narcissists also believe that they’re better than everyone else and expect recognition as such—even when they’ve done nothing to earn it. They will often exaggerate or outright lie about their achievements and talents. And when they talk about work or relationships, all you’ll hear is how much they contribute, how great they are, and how lucky the people in their lives are to have them. They are the undisputed star and everyone else is at best a bit player.

Needs constant praise and admiration

A narcissist’s sense of superiority is like a balloon that gradually loses air without a steady stream of applause and recognition to keep it inflated. The occasional compliment is not enough. Narcissists need constant food for their ego, so they surround themselves with people who are willing to cater to their obsessive craving for affirmation. These relationships are very one-sided. It’s all about what the admirer can do for the narcissist, never the other way around. And if there is ever an interruption or diminishment in the admirer’s attention and praise, the narcissist treats it as a betrayal.

A sense of entitlement

Because they consider themselves special, narcissists expect favorable treatment as their due. They truly believe that whatever they want, they should get. They also expect the people around them to automatically comply with their every wish and whim. That is their only value. If you don’t anticipate and meet their every need, then you’re useless. And if you have the nerve to defy their will or “selfishly” ask for something in return, prepare yourself for aggression, outrage, or the cold shoulder.

Exploits others without guilt or shame

Narcissists never develop the ability to identify with the feelings of others—to put themselves in other people’s shoes. In other words, they lack empathy. In many ways, they view the people in their lives as objects—there to serve their needs. As a consequence, they don’t think twice about taking advantage of others to achieve their own ends. Sometimes this interpersonal exploitation is malicious, but often it is simply oblivious. Narcissists simply don’t think about how their behavior affects others. And if you point it out, they still won’t truly get it. The only thing they understand is their own needs.

Frequently demeans, intimidates, bullies, or belittles others

Narcissists feel threatened whenever they encounter someone who appears to have something they lack—especially those who are confident and popular. They’re also threatened by people who don’t kowtow to them or who challenge them in any way. Their defense mechanism is contempt. The only way to neutralize the threat and prop up their own sagging ego is to put those people down. They may do it in a patronizing or dismissive way as if to demonstrate how little the other person means to them. Or they may go on the attack with insults, name-calling, bullying, and threats to force the other person back into line.

And, when dealing with others:

Your needs won’t be fulfilled (or even recognized).

It’s important to remember that narcissists aren’t looking for partners; they’re looking for obedient admirers. Your sole value to the narcissist is as someone who can tell them how great they are to prop up their insatiable ego. Your desires and feelings don’t count.

Look at the way the narcissist treats others.

If the narcissist lies, manipulates, hurts, and disrespects others, he or she will eventually treat you the same way. Don’t fall for the fantasy that you’re different and will be spared.

It’s important to see the narcissist in your life for who they really are, not who you want them to be.

Stop making excuses for bad behavior or minimizing the hurt it’s causing you. Denial will not make it go away. The reality is that narcissists are very resistant to change, so the true question you must ask yourself is whether you can live like this indefinitely.

Let’s not beat around the bush, we can all visualize moments where Bakugou has demonstrated all of these behaviors, often repeatedly.

I like to think that he recognizes this, because he is trying to develop. He is trying to be better, supposedly. And that’s a good thing! that’s what makes him an interesting character. But as someone who lived with someone with NPD, who was abused by such a person, Bakugou has all the same signs. That’s not to say that he can’t overcome this. But it also requires a real examination of the fact that, at present, Bakugou is not someone who demonstrates any kind of healthy relationships with anyone. The guy is antagonistic and violent and abusive towards everyone and everything, to an extreme, unhealthy degree.

My hope of course, is that the thing he’ll learn that he’s missing from Endeavor is either humility or empathy, because without those, he’s basically an abuser who uses his strength to avoid repercussions from others. It’s honestly amazing to me that his aggressiveness isn’t made a bigger deal of by his classmates, because that sort of person is hard to be around, and people tend to avoid provoking or rocking the boat around such a person to avoid their scorn and hostility. The fact that his default mode of interaction towards people is to browbeat them with whatever he thinks make them feel insecure about themselves is pretty much NPD in a nutshell. He’ll laugh at other people, but no one is allowed to make jokes about him.

Honestly, the best result would be for him to realize just how unhealthy his approach is, and change for the better. But at the same time, it would be good if the characters, and we as a fandom, realized what he is and what he suffers from, and how to deal with it.

In an ideal world, it would be good for him to realize that his way of dealing with others is very, very fucked up. Because at present, he doesn’t.

#ooc

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aiyh · 6 years ago

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AUs are a problem I have

I found all the original posts in this series from my deactivated blog and collected them here.

you work the register at a store I frequent and I get super self-conscious that you’re judging my purchases AU

our kids got paired up to do a school project and I meant to just drop mine off at your house but we ended up talking for three hours AU

battle of the bands AU

made small talk while waiting for different flights and assumed we’d never see each other again AU

our grandparents are in the same nursing home and they hate each other AU

arrested at the same protest AU

classic literature professor vs. modern literature professor AU

I injured myself doing something stupid at a holiday party and you’re the doctor at the emergency clinic AU

volunteered to wait tables at your fancy charity fundraising dinner AU

how do you keep getting my name that wrong on my coffee cup AU

adjacent stands at the farmer’s market AU

risked my job by talking you out of buying a crappy product at the store where I work AU

only two people who bought tickets to see this movie AU

don’t really care if I win that giant stuffed animal but keep playing the carnival game you’re running just to see you AU

our dogs are in love with each other and it’s making things awkward at the dog park AU

who’s this asshole who keeps beating my high score on Pac-Man AU

it’s a total coincidence that I happen to water my plants at the same time you jog past my house AU

our manager is making us push this crappy item that no one needs but you thought my sales pitch was funny so you bought it AU

interviewed you for the newspaper AU

I desperately need you to fix my laptop but please don’t judge me for my browser history AU

chef/ restaurant critic AU

my kid’s hamster died while she was at school and I don’t know how to tell her about death so long story short does your pet store have a hamster that looks just like the one in this photo AU

rival local news stations AU

news anchor/ meteorologist AU

I planned a program at the library where I work and you’re the only person who showed up AU

you are definitely drunk-texting the wrong number but I’m bored so I’m gonna keep this going for a while AU

I hate flying but your snarky announcements are a good distraction and you have a nice voice and I might be calling you Captain Cutie in my head AU

I made a dumb science joke in class and you’re the only one who laughed AU

auditioning for the same part AU

accidentally got drunk at a wine tasting AU

you’re the only other person I’ve ever met who can quote this movie AU

everyone else in our dorm has gone out but I have the flu, and I just heard you coughing pathetically from the next room, wanna share my stash of cough drops and marathon Netflix with me? AU

showed up to a Halloween party in matching costumes AU

will you pretend to be my date to my family’s holiday party so they’ll stop harassing me about being single, there’s food in it for you AU

Christmas lights rivalry AU

I found a bunch of your stuff when I moved into this apartment and I have no idea who you are but I think we might be soulmates AU

I teach in this classroom in the mornings and you teach in the evenings and we communicate entirely through notes left on the board AU

how the hell does your cat keep getting into my house AU

I volunteered for a sex study and you’re the lead researcher and thank god it’s acceptable for me to be turned on in this situation because damn AU

You’re the prosecutor and I’m the defense attorney on the most ridiculous case either of us have ever heard of and I don’t know about you but I’m not sure how much longer I can be serious about this thing AU

Got into an absurdly heated argument in the comments on a mutual friend’s Facebook post AU

Rival street performers AU

You keep bringing your car into my shop with a series of increasingly unlikely problems and my professional opinion is it’d be cheaper for you to just ask me to dinner already AU

Our families are having funeral visitations at the same time and we’re both hanging around outside because we can’t deal AU

I spent a whole subway ride checking you out but didn’t have the nerve to talk to you and thought I’d never see you again but you just showed up on Humans of New York AU

Cheering for opposing teams at a sports bar AU

My kid shoplifted from your store and I marched her back here to apologize to you AU

Why didn’t you tell me this cabin was haunted before I rented it from you AU

Character performers who only see each other at ren faires AU

My band plays at this restaurant every Friday and you always show up and make obscure requests and I know you’re trying to stump me but you’ve severely underestimated how much of a music geek I am AU

I’m the caterer and you’re the florist on a huge expensive wedding and we bond over what an awful person the mother of the bride is AU

We’re chaperoning kids at the same skating rink party and the last couple’s skate was pathetic so what do you say we show these little punks how it’s done AU

We’re both trying to get an apartment in this city at the same time as a million other people and I’m tired of competing for the same ones as you so I think it’s time we joined forces AU

Adjacent shops Christmas decorations war of escalation AU

We work at competing gossip magazines and keep trying to outdo each other’s ridiculous stories AU

Our moms belong to the same garden club and are fiercely competitive about their gardens and keep sending us to pick up supplies for them and would have matching heart attacks if they found out we’re hooking up every trip AU

My kid is in your class and you called me in for a parent-teacher conference and I don’t know what she did but she didn’t learn it from me and wait what do you mean you think she should skip a grade AU

We’re neighbors and I’m telling you this as a friend but if you give out pencils for Halloween again this year I’m going to look the other way when the kids roll your yard AU

I accidentally caught the neighbors’ yard(s) on fire while burning leaves and I didn’t think it could get worse but the volunteer fireman reprimanding me is gorgeous and clearly thinks I’m an idiot AU

I bought this talisman from your occult shop and I know you warned me but I didn’t think this stuff was real but it IS and now I need you to make it go away AU

You just sold a bunch of old books to my secondhand store for cheap and one of them’s worth a fortune and my partner will kill me if he finds out but I think you should have the money AU

I didn’t mean to get you arrested, I thought I was helping AU

I’m planning a heist and I need your very specific skillset to pull it off but when I tracked you down you’d become an alcoholic and spend your days cheating at video poker AU

Your pizza keeps getting delivered to my house by mistake and I need to talk to you about your choice of toppings AU

Prison chaplain/ wrongfully convicted death row inmate AU

You bring my grandmother a basket of homemade candy every Christmas and she keeps dropping hints about how great you are so we should probably go out at least once—you know, just to make grandma happy AU

I was down on my luck and had lost the will to live when I heard you playing the fiddle and long story short I think you saved my life AU

The PTA bake sale is coming up and you’ve outsold me two years in a row so I’m pulling out all the stops AU

I just quit my job and put all my belongings in a U-Haul and started driving, you’re the hitchhiker I picked up on a whim who I’m starting to think is a dangerous fugitive AU

Graffiti artist/ mural painter AU

You’re the only major film critic who hated my movie and I need to talk to you about it because I agree with you AU

#AUs are a problem I have #this was one of my best works tbh #writing prompts #AUs #imagine your otp

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stompsite · 6 years ago

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disrespecting players

So, Assassin’s Creed Odyssey has this new thing, where you can “romance” whoever you want. In the latest DLC, one playable character, Kassandra, has a baby.

People are upset about this.

Why? It’s completely understandable. Since you can “romance” (okay I hate that word and this essay is about that) anyone you want, you can play Kassandra as a lesbian. In fact, in my playtime, I don’t actually think I’ve come across a single straight romance option. So maybe that’s what you’re supposed to do canonically. But apparently in the DLC, Kassandra is framed as bi, not lesbian, and some people aren’t happy about that.

So, after about 3 hours of sleep this morning, I saw a tweet, and the tweet said, “Ubisoft sorry for shock Assassin’s Creed Odyssey DLC twist which ignores player choice.”

Now, that specific sentence stuck out to me, because it’s something I’ve seen before, and I think there’s an interesting discussion to be had there. I wasn’t focused on the Kassandra issue specifically so much as I was the idea of “when should player choice matter?”

Me being me, I replied to this with my belief that most of the time, player choice isn’t worth respecting. Now, in my thread, I got to the point, but it took me a bit because I did the me thing and worked through the logical build up to my point, because I like establishing a need and then going “so that’s why we need X,” this time, let’s get the point out up front, then work backwards. Not my preferred way to go, but it’s more important to make sense than to be comfortable.

My feeling is, I might be saying something useful, but if I’m not thoughtful about how I say things, people might end up misunderstanding. Since the thing that inspired this thought process was Eurogamer discussing “respecting player choice,” but that choice was about sexuality, it can too easily come across as saying “player sexuality shouldn’t be respected.” And that’s obvious horse shit; player sexuality must always be respected, because that’s an innate quality of the self! You should never shit on identity. But... should “player choice,” as a generalized topic, actually be respected?

So, here’s the thesis: I think the way we talk about player choice is wrong. I think that when players are expressing themselves in terms of appearance, race, gender, sexuality, or whatever other personal trait, we should be supportive of their ability to play the way they want. Ubisoft giving players the opportunity to play as a lesbian character and then, in an expansion, saying “actually you can’t be a lesbian” is a problem. But this doesn’t mean that we should cater to every player choice, and Eurogamer’s specific framing is what bothered me, because I think player choice doesn’t deserve the sanctity that it’s often given.

I think, in some games, players want to be gods, and I think this is something that encourages us to think about the world in an unhealthy way.

Take Dragon Age 2, for instance. In that game, there’s a character named Aveline. Every single romance option in Dragon Age 2 sucks. Aveline is the only good companion character in the entire game... but you cannot “romance” her. I think she’s the only person you aren’t related to that you can’t woo.

I hate using “romance” as a verb. I hate the idea that you can “romance” anyone you see in a game, because that’s not how it works in real life. If I walk up to you and flirt terribly, and you happen to not be into me, you have the ability to turn me down and not enter into a relationship with me, right?

So you cannot “romance” Aveline, which really just means “interacting with her enough that her fuck meter hits max and then you are rewarded with a terrible cutscene of your lifeless dolls dry humping each other and then she stands in your house near your bed and you can interact with her.” I hate elves, so I did everything I could to piss another character, Merill, off, but apparently maxing out your hate means she’ll move into your house and hatefuck you.

It’s so fucking gross to treat sex, in games, as a weird fucking carnival game where sex is the prize. Don’t do any of the actual work of a relationship, just, y’know, max out a meter and you’re owed sex by your subordinates. You can see how that’s… a bit troubling, right?

Now, I could level this criticism at Assassin’s Creed Odyssey. But, hey, this isn’t an essay about how bad Assassin’s Creed Odyssey is at relationships. I mean, it is, because “Assassin’s Creed Odyssey being so bad at relationships they literally invalidate player choice and it’s understandably upsetting people” is the thing that got this started, but what I’m specifically interested in is the way Eurogamer (intentionally or unintentionally) suggested that games need to respect player choice.

I think player choice only needs to be respected when it comes to expression.

I’m making a game where you are a specific person, with specific goals and beliefs. You cannot determine his appearance, gender, or sexuality. This game is a game about seeing the world through his eyes. So, if you play that game, you’re going to invariably be that guy. I like games like this. I like playing Cate Archer in No One Lives Forever. I like being in someone else’s shoes.

But then there’s a whole mess of games where you can more or less act how you want. You can pick what your character looks and acts like, how they perceive the world, and all sorts of other things. You can be yourself in the game world, or, heck, you can be someone you came up with. It’s all good.

That’s really cool! Being able to customize that experience is really awesome. In an earlier essay, I discussed how “being able to visit another world” is a huge part of why I care about games. Therefore, being able to be myself in that other world (or whoever I want to be) is super important.

But I think people conflate “being who you want” and “engaging with the world on your terms” and I don’t think they should do that.

Like I said, I personally care about going to other worlds. Implicit in this is the understanding that for a world to be… believable? For it to exist, or whatever you want to call it, the world has to have its own terms that do not revolve around me.

Take Thief, for instance. Thief is an immersive sim–a genre that’s about existing in another world–based around the idea of being a thief. One of the reasons that Thief is compelling is that… well, you’re a thief, not a warrior, so if you get into a sword fight with one guy, you might lose. If you get into a sword fight with multiple guys, you will most definitely lose. You cannot dictate that all outcomes will be favorable to you regardless of the choices you make.

Thief works because you can make choices that lead to unfavorable outcomes. If you could choose anything and have it work out in your favor every time, the fantasy of being a thief would collapse, and Thief would fail as an immersive sim.

I believe that immersive sims are games that represent worlds. For a world to be realistic, there must be scenarios in which you can make suboptimal decisions–even wrong ones. When people argue that games should always result in a favorable outcome that “respects their decisions,” these people want playgrounds, not immersive games. An immersive game is one that exists regardless of the player, not for the player.

You could say I’m establishing that there are two kinds of games. For the sake of argument, let’s call them playgrounds and simulations.

Neither one is valid, but I think a great deal of people assume all games should be playgrounds and unfairly judge games that don’t allow them to treat all games like a playground. I think immersive sims–or any game trying to let players exist in a world–are necessarily player agnostic. I think these games should acknowledge your decisions but that doesn’t mean respecting them. Sure, you built a character for stealth, but the guy you’re going up against was characterized as paranoid and has cameras everywhere; maybe that level is impossible to stealth. The game isn’t bad because it doesn’t let you play according to your build, it’s giving you a believable, interesting world.

Now, maybe you just want Ultimate Stealth Game Playground, in which case, I’d like to introduce you to Ghost Recon: Wildlands, a wonderful game I’ve put 48 hours into. That is a playground, and it’s a really good one.

I think we should respect choices when they’re about players defining themselves in games that are built around players defining themselves, like Assassin’s Creed Odyssey, a game that was heavily marketed as letting you choose your sexuality. I don’t think we need to respect every single player choice because I don’t think the player should have their every whim catered to.

I feel like a lot of this ties into the idea of “power fantasy.” I think power fantasies can be great. Sometimes it’s fun to go all Hulk: Ultimate Destruction on a city and smash things, you know? But I feel that a lot of people… man, I feel like a lot of people want the game to constantly tell them how amazing they are and do anything they want and sometimes that leads to shitty scenarios where players are like “everyone should fuck me if I want them to.” I think that’s gross.

A world cannot be authentic if it can only respond positively to the player’s interactions.

If a player’s agency is absolute, then no other character has any agency, and you cannot meaningfully engage with those characters. They exist to please you and nothing else. You cannot engage with the game and treat them as equal to you; you can only see them as part of a facade. The game world cannot be believable or interesting.

A lot of bad shooters I see tend to be designed in the same way: they exist to fellate the player. They’re not satisfying because you can’t make wrong decisions; you can’t mess up. As a result, there’s no danger. Because the games are so interested in making you feel powerful and strong and good about yourself, you never feel like you earned anything. Your relationship to the world ends up turning you into that creepy kid from the Twilight Zone episode where a creepy kid has godlike powers and can make anyone do anything he wants them to or be whatever he wants.

That’s not an interesting relationship to the experience. It’s not really one I want to have.

So. Yeah. You should be able to define your character. That’s good. You should not be able to determine how the world responds to you, though.

The Ubisoft situation really only refers to the former: you should be able to define your character, and they chose not to respect that. They fucked up. But I feel like a lot of people are using this as a springboard to say that all decisions no matter what should be respected, whereas I think only certain ones (like the decision to define Kassandra’s sexuality) should be respected. I think there are plenty of decisions that should not. I think games are interesting when they’re somewhat player agnostic.

I think you should be who you want, in games that present that opportunity, and I think Ubisoft fucked up by retroactively invalidating choice.

I’m just... feeling like I’m seeing people around this discussion arguing that all games should allow all decisions all the time, the player’s position within games is sacred, games should never ever under any circumstances present players with bad choices, and I’m uncomfortable with that ‘cause I think it leads to weird situations like the one with “Aveline owes me sex in Dragon Age 2 because I want to have it with her” which is weird and gross.

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equalstrashflavoredtrash · 7 years ago

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❄️❄️Snow day drabbles! ❄️❄️

Requested by @romanchronicles with the prompt

13 This wasn’t meant to be a date, but we’ve had such a good time and now it’s 2 a.m. and I should really go home and Hvitserk

ok so i started having fun and got carried away so i guess this isnt a drabble...

warning for dry humping with soggy ends

word count: 1,776

FIngering the gold coin, the young shieldmaiden studied the embossed depiction of the now deceased saxon king. Ælle was dead, blood eagled in the grove by the sons of Ragnar, and so now they and the Great Army were celebrating. The northmen then pillaged Ælle’s villa, taking whatever they pleased, especially anything shiny and gold. Easily manipulating the round metal disc in her hand, she balanced it along her bent index finger, tucking her thumb underneath. With a simple flick she released the tension in her hand, launching the coin through the air.

The light caught the rough lip, glinting as it spun over itself, tumbling towards it’s target. With a simple ‘plop’ the coin landed directly on point, into the bucket of saxon wine sat in the center of the table. A cheer went up from the small crowd around her as she turned to face her opponent. The Shieldmaiden didn't need to say anything as she stood with her arms akimbo, the obvious victor. “Who’s next?” she called, laughing gaily while collecting the wagered spoils and watching the defeated Viking slump away, downtrodden at his loss.

“I’ll go,” a voice spoke, coming from another who nudged his way forward through the forest of shoulders, “But I have a different bet.” The green eyes of the middle Ragnarsson gleamed with mischief as he made an entrance and stared down the undefeated champion. He needed no introduction, everyone present knew who the young prince was.

“Careful, Hvitserk, she’s yet to miss once tonight,” an older, bearded fellow warned him, but the young man’s smirk didn’t falter.

“Well then, what’s your ante? What treasures are you willing to part with?” The Shieldmaiden challenge, eyeing him.

“No treasures,” he spoke with a smug expression, trusting the luck that had been with him to not falter in battle or drinking games. “Best of three. If you win then I will be your thrall for the night, answering you beck and call, catering to your every whim.”

Her brows shot up at the proposition, her interested piqued. “And if you win?” she prompted, folding her arms—obviously wary of what he would counter with.

“If I win, you must spend the entirety of the feast,” he paused for dramatic effect while she shifted her weight from one foot to the other, jutting one hip out to the side, “Sitting on my lap.” A chuckle broke through the crowd at his terms, none of those watching surprised by Hvitserk’s antics.

She took a moment to weigh her options, certain he would not make such a bet if he didn’t have a plan to win. Still, if she backed down she would be shamed, and quite the number of spectators had gathered to witness the prince and her square off.

“Fine.” She quickly spat into her hand before holding it out to him. Hvitserk copied the gesture before clapping his palm with hers as they shook.

He went first, carelessly tossing the gold into the air. If this was extent of his method she was sure to beat him. It should’ve landed just short of the goal, but miraculous the gold hit the lip of the bucket, changing the trajectory so it dropped into the wine.

With a grumble she gathered the small pile of saxon gold infront of her—all spoils from earlier challenges—and readied her first shot. Carefully lining up the foreign coin, she tried to ignore the audience pressing closer behind her, each vying for a better view, along with the way Hvitserk stood next to her, near enough she could feel his body heat. She exhaled through her nose and flicked the coin into the air. It was not her best shot—she should’ve arched it higher—but still it fell in the bucket.

She turned to him, quirking the corner of her mouth up and challenging him with her eyes. In a lackadaisical gesture, the prince drew another coin before giving a careless wave of his hand, all while keeping his eyes on her. They both knew it made it by the sound. She could barely believe it though she could easily see the ripples on the surface circling outwards. There was a flurry of hushed excitement through the crowd around them—some even making their own bets on the outcome—as she pivoted away from Hvitserk.

Determination set over her as she went for her second try. Her skill had to outweigh his luck, she knew what she was doing. Again her coin flew over the wooden rim of the bucket and landed with ease.

They were tied. Their spectators waited with baited breath, eager to know who would be the victor. Hvitserk actually appeared to make an attempt for the last round. The coin went in all the same, just as easily as it had before..

It was her final chance. If she missed this then he’d win and she’d be obligated to warm his lap for the evening. The space around her felt suffocating now, caused by both the eager onlookers crowding in and her opponent who stood so close now she could feel his breath ghosting over the skin of her cheek. She did her best to block out the distractions and ready her aim, but just as she released her thumb, she felt a sharp pain in her left but cheek. Jerking in surprise, she sent the coin flying in the wrong direction, yards away from the bucket of wine.

“You fucking—!” the Shieldmaiden roared as she spun on her heel to slap the prince. He reacted on instinct, easily catching her wrists before her palms could make contact as he laughed with the men surrounding them. “You cheated! You pinched my ass!” she screamed at him over the noise while struggling to free her arms.

“Still, you missed.” Hvisterk grinned, the majority of those around the pair seemed to agree. He eventually released her hands, and she glared at him through her lashes.

“Fine. I will see you at the feast,” she spat before collecting her winnings and storming off.

——-

From the moment she entered the grand hall, she could feel his eyes on her like a magnet. It was obvious she would had no respite from him in the foreseeable future. Dropping her gaze to the stone floor, she trudged past the never ending long tables before arriving at the head table.

The oak table lined with Ragnar’s sons was situated where Ælle’s throne had been, the floor slightly raised above the rest of the landing. In the center, facing the hall was Bjorn—the oldest. At the end furthest from where she sat was Ivar, with Ubbe to his left. To Bjorn’s right sat Sigurd, who seemed preoccupied with his instrument as his fingers spent more time on the strings than his food. Finally, directly in front of where she stood, at the foot of the tabe was the middle prince. Hvitserk couldn’t control his grin as he held a hand out for her to take.

The Shieldmaiden was positive everyone in the hall knew about their wager by now and were watching to see what would happen. Reluctantly she accepted his hand, and lowered herself to rest just on his knees, as far down on his lap she could get. She propped her chin upon her palm, resting her elbow on the table and facing Sigurd.

She sipped at her endless cup of ale—any time she was close to the bottom a thrall was quick to replenish—as she spent most of the night talking and singing with her seat’s younger brother. Though Hvitserk tried to keep her attention with teasing touches, or letting his fingers drift north under her tunic. Still, she did her best to ignore him, mindlessly swatting away his wandering hands like flies.

The more she drank the more she eased into Hvitserk. Shifting slightly in his lap every now and then, slowly inching away from the table, closer towards his chest.

The Shieldmaiden was feeling the weight of the ale in her eyelids by the time Floki was commanding the attention of the room. The boat builder stood at the fire, his gangly anatomy appearing all the more skeleton with the harsh illumination of the flames.

In the dimly lit corner of the room she settled into her seat, reclining to rest her head on Hvitserk’s shoulder while adjusting her hips against his.

The Prince was quick to grab hold of her waist, halting her motions and hissing a warning in her ear, “Careful with that.”

“Oh?” she teased, her voice registering in a lower, drunken timber. Lifting her chin she let her lips tickle his ear while her words dance over his skin as she nuzzled into his neck. Tempting her luck, she raised one arm to lace her fingers into the roots of his braids. Curling her hand she pulled at his hair, and pushed her hips back, letting out an airy gasp when she felt the breadth of his erection against her ass through the leather.

“Fuck,” he hissed, quiet enough so only she could hear while his hands snaked their way under her tunic. Every set of eyes in the room—even those of Sigurd next to them—where trained forwards the storyteller, paying no mind to the way she rutted against Hvitserk in his chair. One of his hands finally found its way under her tunic to her breast, palming at the soft and malleable tissue as his finger tips teased her nipple. She continued to shift, rubbing her bottom against him while his other hand dug into the flesh on her hips hard enough he was sure to leave a bruise.

She could feel Hvitserk panting against her neck as she let her head lull back onto his shoulder, giving him leeway to guide her hips as he wished. Muffling his groan in her skin, he bit at her shoulder. The Shieldmaiden could tell from the way he shuddered against her he had reached his climax.

Staying still for a moment, the pair basked in the rhythmic pattern of each other’s deep breathing. After a moment she managed to gather her strength, sitting upright to stretch her arms. “It’s so late, I should get going,” she announced innocuously to the table, moving to rise.

None of the other brothers seemed to notice—or care—when Hvitserk yanked the girl back into his lap trapping her so he could hiss in her ear, “The only place you're going is to my bed.”

hope you liked it 😀 @ariwolff14 @beautifulramblingbrains @mandalorian-slut@captstefanbrandt @titty-teetee @whenimaunicorn @sweetvengeancee @ivarinleatherpants

#hvitserk #hvitserk ragnarsson #hvitserk lothbrok #hvitserk x reader #hvitserk imagine #vikings #snow day drabble

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deadliketheothers · 7 years ago

Text

Annals of the Cata

In these pages are the accounts of the few people I managed to come across in the wastes that were not trying to kill me, at least not outright. My journey throughout the midwest seemed to be an endless task, however it only took thirty years for me to complete my travels and come to a place I could finally call my own. It is here I began to reread through my notes and journal entries I had written in years past. I noticed as I poured back over my pages that there were many inconsistencies in the dates, locations, and names of things, as a historian of sorts, I feel it my duty to correct these, but as a writer and someone who experienced the Cata first hand, I ultimately have decided to leave the errors in as originally written because at the time, these were not errors but simply what I knew or what I perceived, and thus they were reality at one point and time to me. Perhaps as the time comes, if there is any real interest in these dusty pages of mine, an annotation can be arranged and pressed, but as the wastes have very few who can read, and even less who can print or write, I find that an annotated copy of this work to be a far too lofty goal and ultimately a dream.

One further note as I begin this project, my time wandering and writing in the midwest, I saw many a great things, however writing implements, and writing mediums were often far and in between as such much of my work was composed upon what scrap I could locate at the time and not in a finely bound book as they would have had before the Cata. I have done my best to enter into these pages to the best of my knowledge the order I had written each entry, however as I lost some pages, others were damaged, and yet still, others simply fell out and scattered in the wind before I could gather all of the pages, the time line presented here may be out of order as it is known to other historians and current writers of the wastes, but by no means should such a trivial matter cast any shadow of doubt upon the truths told in this book.

As It Began

Atop the pillar was the orb, its polished sheen could be seen for miles. Late in the night as bright as the moon the orb shone over the entire town. This night was unlike any other except for one small fact, this night, Selena sat on the fence outside her families home and she stared at the night sky watching the stars. In a flash of light a star shot across the sky. Amazed Selena watched as this star slowed down and came to rest directly above the orb. The pillar lit up in a cascade of glowing blue and flickering red light that seemed to streak down from the tip to the earth in strange lightening like patterns. The ground began to shake and the fence upon which Selena sat began to tremble.

Her pink hair glowing in the soft light of the candle dimly flickering on the writing desk, she studied her tome intently. Every few moments she would turn a page and her dainty hand would rise up and push back the strands of hair that continued to fall forward as she continued reading. So intently she studied her tome she barely recognized the sound of footsteps approaching her. "Madam Anna, we have found the ledgers you have requested" Anna waved her hand and motioned for the scribe to place the books behind her on an already towering stack of dusty tomes.

Tasked by the high restorative council with protecting the last of the known books in the wastes, Amy had spent more time than she would admit pouring over the tattered pages of the dust covered and partially burnt copies of books that the scrounging parties had brought back from their journeys. The tome safe, as the council called their small compound, was surrounded by thick concrete walls and had access to its own ground water table, luckily for the inhabitsnts, it was deep enough to not be completely fouled by the background radiation of the wastes. The council was composed of four major groups, the preservers, the travelers, the high council, and the laborers, each group was charged with a task that benefited the group in the best way possible. The restorers were those who demonstrated a gentle touch and high reading comprehension. It was their task to rewrite each book that was returned to the compound by the travelers.

The night air was chill and the scent of a long forgotten camp fire floated through the trees of the forest. The full moon shone bright and light the forest floor even through the thick canopy. Tonight was the night of rest for the pack. Every full moon the pack would return from their hunts and their prowls and lay on the stone that overhung the deeper parts of the forest. There in the middle of the pack, lit by a beam of glowing moonlight that punctured through the tree tops sat a woman. Long black hair fell gracefully down upon her shoulders and a set of geometric wings, black as the space between stars protruded from her back. Upon the woman's lap lay the alpha male's head, his head to the side, eyes closed and ears at rest. There, the pack was perfect, the pack was happy.

The lightening flashed across the sky, and there riding over head on a stallion made from the clouds themselves she rode. Her dread locks waving behind her head in the forceful storm winds. In her left hand she held the reigns of fierce blue eyed mount, and in her right hand she held the scepter of Queens.

It was the strangest thing the scientist noted. "I was standing in the field observing the tree line and how the birds would perch upon the limbs as they flew at high speeds, when all of a sudden the birds all took off of the trees and flew over my head, I thought it to be one of the most beautiful things I had ever seen. That is until I returned my gaze back to the tree lines." Almost as if he was back in the scene the scientist looked down into the black coffee stained mug and continued. "There she was, this tiny girl, hair pink like flowers, eyes wide and beautiful, even from where I was I could see their glistening color in the light of the morning sun. She was barefoot and her skin porcelain as she stepped, no almost... floated across the meadow. But that wasn't the weird part, that came next... Its as if she was a flower and they longed for her nectar... all of them, I don't mean a lot, I mean all of them, she had to have had every single moth, butterfly and other little flying insect in the whole damned forest flying near her. It was something I could never forget. She was wearing clothes made of butterflies. When one would lift off another would land perfectly covering the spot left open." The scientist sighed. "It was the strangest thing. It was like she was their goddess and they catered to her every whim. She wasn't mean, nor heavy handed, in fact even from where I stood her gentleness could be felt, she would let the moths land on her finger as she kissed their heads and then lift her hand to the sky and they would all fly away, and with them, as they obscured her in their flight, she was gone."

The highway felt longer than he remembered, but then again he had never walked down it before, it was always driven. The asphalt beneath his feet was warm to the touch after baking all day in the summer sun, but since the sun had fallen beneath the horizon, it was a comfortable warmth that kept the soles of his feet warm as he walked. His back felt the ache of the all day walk with his pack upon it that he was all to familiar with, but the pack carried things he needed to survive. The hatchet on his hip dug into his thigh with ever step but without it he would have no way to get his fire for the night prepared, but from the clouds in the distance, fire would be the least of his issues he worried. Price still remembered what life was like before the defiled ruled the cities of the US, he chuckled to himself as he remembered how many nights he took for granted having a roof keeping rain off his head. He still had a little light left of the evening, and he had to keep going, the rad storms were going to reach him soon.

What could he do? The rain pounded on the tin roof of the shed he found. He had barely managed to get a fire to light before he was forced to take shelter from the rad storm that blew in from the west. No one expected the west to be the first hit, all the projections and analysts claimed the bombs would hit the east US first. Take out the command centers and leaders they said. Chris scoffed at the thought, "If only they knew." The fire sputtered as a particularly strong gust of wind snuck under the rickety door of the shed. Chris gathered his pack and laid down his rolled up sleeping bag. Before he laid down to sleep for the night, he took one last look at the fire and wondered if his friends were still alive. It had been months since they parted ways outside of Old Cloud village. Then he slept.

It was perhaps by her own sheer willpower she made it down the old 94. Losing her family to a herd of Infected Stags, she had two choices, Give up or keep pushing forward. No one knows if she chose to move forward on her own, some say too many days and late nights of video games had affected her mind and when the mushrooms finally came to cleanse the land, that was all it took. Those who became briefly close to her would often tell of her prowess as a gunslinger, and a lucky few were able to recount tales of her skills with a knife. Sam spent much of her early days of the Cata wandering the old 94, and while many saw her, few were able to talk with her, she seemed determined in her mission, keep the old highway clean and cleansed of all four legged beasts.

"T'was such a strange sight, no, a strange sound", Brett remembered thinking. His trusty walking stick that in times of need doubled as a rod for fighting was gripped tightly in his left hand. His knuckles white as he continued following the alluring yet eerie sound that caught his attention about a mile and half back. The town he had wandered into seemed desolate and empty, the prairie sands had covered most of the houses that were still standing, although few buildings could be classified as still standing. On edge, Brett continued to walk forward following the haunting melody that seemed to be growing louder with every step. The sand beneath his feet gave slightly with every step, but yet he was still compelled to move forward. There, at the center of town, a seemingly untouched church, steeple in place, paint clean and white, and door wide open, stood. Before the church lay thousands of broken pieces of glass. As Brett bent down to inspect a piece, he realized they were all mirrors. Etched into each piece were the cryptic words, Shadows begin to sing. pulling his attention away from the shards of glass and back to the open doors of the church, Brett peered forward only to find that the church was devoid of life. Walking further forward he stood in front of the door to the pristine, yet empty church. As he crossed the threshold of the sanctuary, the moment his foot touched the wooden floorboards, the singing stopped.

The glitter of the gold could be seen across the arid plains whenever the sun was high in the afternoon sky. Many wanderers even the defiled were drawn in by the strange lights. The prospect of a curiosity or of some long lost treasure seemed too much to resist for the folks caught in the glint of the giant golden throne. From miles away the sound of hundreds of footsteps could be heard pounding away on the pavement of the wastes, and the groans of those serving the queen served as a reminder to all who would gaze upon the green haired beauty, that their servitude was mandatory. With her own personal army composed of every creature who was caught by her gaze, Siren continued being carried upon her golden throne by her servants across the desolate lands in search of more slaves.

Prior to the fall of the sky and the terrible visions of those fire filled clouds, Josh had enjoyed life in Minnesota. The land was lush with a diverse number of animals and plant life. The sport of hunting had always brought him joy, even in his youth, but he never thought one day he would need to use those skills learned as a means to survive. The initial bomb blasts had little effect on the amount of animals in the region, it was the fallout and the years of background radiation that killed them. It was slow at first, but over the past decade, they had all but disappeared. With the drying up and unexplained disappearance of most of the lakes and the irradiated waters flowing through the rest, the flora and fauna of the previously lush state had been devastated. Hunting was no longer a sport, but a game of survival. Josh knew the deer before him was not just a meal, but a ticket to better trade goods as well as a means to survive the harsh nuclear winter season.

What a day, first the mubear that was running amok in Cillieatown, then having to run from a raider party, and now as she travelled through the glades, she came across a body on the ground. Giving a wide berth to the lump of human flesh on the ground, Clara heard the groan of a man followed by a shallow broken cry for help. Pausing in her soft steps, Clara turned to see the body she thought dead, shifting along the dusty ground. Taking a short step back she reached for her trusty .38 she kept in case of emergency. Almost as if the man heard the sound of the hammer cocking back he stopped his weak crawl. "Please, I....I was attacked by raiders... they took my... my daughter... please... get her back..."

For most, the Cata was unkind. The world tranformed into a desolate wasteland where rival groups faught bloody battles over the few remaining areas of farmland or un radiated water. Once great sprawling cities mow reduced to ashes or graveyards of twisted metal beams surrounded by dilapidated and blackened buildings barely recognizable. Even small rural towns didn't manage to survive the destructive powers of the hellfire that the bombs cast upon humanity. But among all this destruction, there was a woman who despite her previously kind demeenor, seemed to fit right into this terrible world. No one who knew Olivia in the old world would have expected her to now rule over the CagedCreeturs, one of the wastelands most brutal gangs. All across their territories you could see where the members had been. Bodies of their victims would be ripped apart and hung from the twisted metal power poles that still remained. Any one unlucky enough go survive being beaten or shot would be found trapped into a cage that was welded shut after they were forced in. Their bodies covered in the burns from the welding and their remains withered, dehydrated, and starved to death.

The wastes were home to oddities of all kinds, in the far east US territories, tales of men more machine than man could be heard, but on the west coast where the bombs hit the hardest, the tales and oddities that could be heard of were of a far stranger nature. Somewhere in the old world California, now the separate states of god's coast, the tale of the gecko woman were commonly known. Its said that somewhere, where the trees still grow, but the land died, a woman, short, with stunningly beautiful eyes lived. It is said that the radiation gives her an eternal youth and since the bombs fell, she hasn't aged a day, and while this would be the strangest part of any other story, hers is one of much more. There where the Redwoods cry their black irradiated sap that pollutes whatever it touches, lives Maddie, the gecko rancher. Her house, more of a hut than anything is fiercely protected by a band of massive eight foot tall geckos. They run as fast as dogs on two legs and have an acidic bite that melts through Kevlar and metal armors. Attacking everything that wanders too close to Maddie's home, they can be seen chewing on the corpses of the latest traveler unlucky enough to get caught in their gaze.

The ticking of the strange mechanisms were the only sound resonating from within the old mine in the west Virginian hills. Smoke poured from the cave entrance and from old rusted stacks that once supplied the mine with fresh air. It had been years since any soul had been seen this deep in the mountains, but for Frank, this meant this area was perfect. From a distance, no one would even know someone lived here, the decade of running the oil boilers and machines of the mine created a low hanging smog that obscured the entrance to his workshop from view by anyone farther than a half mile out. Inside the cave was an elaborate set of tunnels cared into the granite and limestone that had spent the past few million years undisturbed, however at the center of all this was the emporia as Frank liked to call it. This was his toy shop. The wastes provided plenty of mutated or deformed creatures which Frank would trap, experiment on, and study. When he was done, each of those creatures found themselves bottled in some sort of fluid and stored on the endless shelves of the chamber. At the far end however was the most interesting and terrifying of his collection, more machine than animal, Frank spent the vast amount of his time here bringing the dead back to life with the use of mechanisms and electrical pulses. These strange things were his pets, and each of them were lethal loyal to him.

Before the bombs fell, the land surrounding the old 169 was fertile and held farms for as far as the eyes could see. The land was known for its lush tree lines, cornfields, and green meadows, what happened after however, was stark in contract. The miles upon miles of the concrete and asphalt of the 169 now were overgrown by weeds and sun weathered trunks of trees that fell over the decades of winds and radstorms. The cracked and pitted path still saw much foot traffic just as the 169 did in the past. It remained to be the only road that could be used effectively as a trade route to the northern state and through the great radiated seas of The Vermilion Shores. The Town of Princes lay upon this road. A once thriving community that was nestled upon a wide river, now a series of shacks and crumpled buildings, and no one save for the traders heading north dared go near the polluted waters of the River Rummer. This time of year, when the snows would have fallen in the past, but now nothing but ash falls from the great grey clouds over head, was ripe for gathering meat. The Radogs that roamed the western lands around the Town of Princes migrated east to follow the River Rummer to some unknown destination. During this annual migration, the pickings for meat was simple and easy. Ivana spent much of her days out in the old ash forests gathering the days harvest of Mudberries and if lucky, any Radog that was daft enough to fall into the clutches of one of the hunter's traps.

#OC #Wasteland #Fallout Damage #Radiation #Creative writing

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