#Two new little things to be subjugated? Or worse? All the more reason to keep them secret | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

its-kall-the-clown · 3 years

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22 with pigsy, tang, and MK. Cause they’re best dads.

I completely agree about them being the best dads! Which is why I prepared this fluffy little- *trips and falls into angst.* Uhhhh it was fluffy up until the end...oops? it gets fluffy again!

Prompt list

He's Got Us

Rating: G

“You’re burning up.” Tang pressed a hang against MK's flushed face, gently brushing his bangs away to feel the raging fever underneath.

"It's fine. I'm fine.." the boy insisted and gently shoved the hand away from his forehead.

"Mmmm I don't think so. I know a fever when I see one." Tang hums and looks over MK's whole appearance.

MK's face was flushed, an undertone of pink across his cheeks and forehead making him look like a newly budding flower. His eyes were glassed over and try as MK might there was an extra hitch to his breath that indicated he was suppressing a cough.

"I'm fine. Please just let me head out." The boy pleaded, swiftly turning his head and coughing into his shoulder. The poor boy just wanted to see the new movie with Mei. It was a holiday, a rare one that even Pigsy was closed for, so of course, the boy wanted to take advantage of it.

They cough again into their shoulder, this time more violently and without ceasing for a whole minute.

"I'm sorry MK...I would let you go out but your dad would kill me."

"Is MK coughing??!" Pigsy shouted from the kitchen already on MK like a mosquito in the summer. MK's shoulders sag with defeat. Knowing once Pigsy was involved there was no use trying to hide it.

Sure enough the pigman came around the corner, thermometer in hand. It's thrust into MKs unwilling mouth revealing what they already knew.

MK had a fever.

Pigsy tisks looking at the thermometer like it insulted him.

"Damn monkey, making you train in the rain. Now our boy has a fever." he fusses half at Tang and half at MK even though neither of them was the source of the problem.

"Dadsy... Dad. Please it's fine." He begged them both but when MK was sick Pigsy couldn't be reasoned with. He points back to MK's room with a stern look.

" Back to bed young man" he instructs and MK frowns. Making a big deal of stomping all the way back to his room. It has little effect on Pigsy even when he slams the door.

Normally Tang would sympathize more with MK...buuuut after the third hospital visit due to either a hidden injury that got worse with time or the boy slogging through a sickness only to make it worse, the sentiment got old.

The boy had a bad habit of hiding things from them. Leftover habit from MK's birth parents. He always felt the need to just, Push through even when he was hurting or sick.

More than once Tang had witnessed the boy's eyes rolling into the back of his head as he passed out from an overheating fever or infection.

"I'm on soup duty."

"I'm on medication."

The partners nod at each other, game plan set in motion.

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

"I'm not even-" MK has to pause his sentence to lean to the side and hack and cough. "-that's sick" he finishes with a sniff.

Tang just looks at him with a deadpan expression.

"Sure. And pigs can fly."

"Technically I can. If I took a plane." Pigsy comments with a wiry smile, entering the room with a tray. MK groans and runs a hand down his face.

"You're going to force me to stay in bed AND subjugate me to dad jokes?" He whines loudly and Tang takes the opportunity to finally shove the spoon of medicine into MK's mouth. MK's face scrunches up from the tatse but he swallows obediently.

A cup is offered to him by Pigsy and MK accepts it and drinks greedily.

The cup is replaced with a spoon, this time full of broth rather than medicine. MK huffs at first making a comment about not being a baby and Pigsy snaps back at him to shut it and eat.

And spoon by spoon the broth is drained. MK's eyes slowly dipping down till he can't even keep his head up. Pigsy takes this opportunity to tuck MK in, pulling the covers tightly around their body. Tang assists and he places a cool rag of water against MK's forehead.

The now unconscious teen hardly even noticed when his forehead was kissed by two loving parents.

--------

Pisgy took the first watch. Sitting on a stool next to MK's bed. if there was one thing about MK he was stubborn as he was and would try to sneak out.

This time however the boy stayed asleep, only mumbling gently occasionally and Pigsy would soothe him with hushed tones and a fresh cool rag.

He brushes MKs bangs gently and sighs, Tang enters the room softly and pads up to him. He feels his partner's chin sit atop his head and their arms draped over his shoulder. They sit like this for a while, just the sound of MKs labored breathing and the beat of Tang's heart against his back.

"You ever worry about him?" Pigsy asked and he can feel the vibrations of Tang humming atop his head.

"All the time. Why?" Tang asked, shifting slightly above him.

"It's just-" Pigsy sighs and pinches his snout. "I worry about him, even before all this monkey magic business. But now?"

He feels Tang shift from their perch coming around to kneel beside him.

"Sometimes I lay in bed at night, and I wonder...why him?" His fist tightens at his side as he looks at his sweet baby boy's flushed sick face.

"There are plenty of kids he could have picked. Why did he have to pick OUR kid? Couldn't he have picked someone else?" He huffed and gestured to MK. Tangs brows furrowed slightly

"Don't get me wrong, the kids perfect for the role. Smart, brave, and unwillingly to give up EVER." He smiles foundry and runs his hand against the boys hair gently.

"He's perfect….so why couldn't the damn monkey pick someone who would be OKAY at the job. Why did he have to pick OUR perfect boy?" He growls out feeling something well up in his throat. MK was out there every day, training, putting himself in harm's way. There were days Pigsy wondered if his son would make it home.

"I could never ask him to quit. He's too good at the job and helps too many people.. " Pigsy signs and pinches his snout. He feels Tang rub a hand on his back. A few moments pass of just them sitting together with Tang's talented fingers working over the muscles on his back.

"You know my recurring nightmare?" Tang asked, finally breaking the silence.

"The one where MK gets trapped under a mountain?" He asked and his partner's face nods, an apparent shiver crawling up the human spine.

"I still have it sometimes...it terrified me. But I'm having it less and less." He explains shifting into a better sitting position by Pigsy. He leans his head against his partner's thigh and Pigsy's hands go easily to his hair to run his hands through it.

"I realized. That no matter what he does or chooses to do with his life, he will always have us to fall back on." Tang turns his head slightly so he can see Pigsy better.

"He's gonna be okay. I promise." Tang pull away from his thigh and Pigsy instantly misses the contact. Instead the man leans up, sealing their lips in a short kiss.

"He's got the best two dad's ever after all~" the brag and Pigsy can only chuckle. He pressed his forehead to Tang's and closed his eyes. Just enjoying the space here they created together.

"He's got us."

#thank you!#writting #prompt ask #Pigsy #Tang #MK #lego monkie kid #Dadsy #these two are the best dads and you can't tell me otherwise #freenoodleshipping

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syndianites · 3 years

Text

A Queen Serves and Protects

Chapter Three

First Chapter --> Last Chapter --> Current --> Next Chapter Summary:

Post-Style Queen, Pre-Queen Wasp.

Chloe finds the Bee Miraculous, but instead of finding an obliging, subservient Kwami, she finds the Kwami of Order and Subjugation, and Pollen is not about to let herself be used like Nooroo was.

Granted, the only danger in a teenage girl is the damage she poses to herself. Can Pollen shape Chloe into a hero? Or will she stubbornly refuse to change and remain the bitter, harsh person the city has long since known?

[My take on how Chloe’s character could have developed] ——————————————————————————————

Getting akumatized was a special sort of uncomfortable. But it was exhilarating in all the same ways. Everything that one felt became louder, bigger, something beyond what it used to be. It grew into power. The power to act and take what was yours.

For Chloe, it just made her more upset. The anger had almost fizzled out, but the akuma brought it back with a vengeance. But unlike the last time she had been akumatized, her sorrow manifested much stronger than her rage.

Her skin darkened to a deep blue, almost purple, like the edge of the night sky after the sun had set. Where her hair had been in a high ponytail, it was undone and draped down and around her face. It looked stuck together and damp as though she had just been rained on. Chloe’s makeup looked washed out and runny both from her own tears and the transformation.

Most notably, her clothes became a simple long t-shirt and sweatpants that looked worn down and overused. The pants were a bright, light blue, while the shirt was a dark, deep crimson. To top it off, her sunglasses molded into a hat not unlike what her mother wore, but with goggles inlaid into them.

Without a word, Chloe put her hands before her and a large pair of scissors, easily the size of her chest, formed in her hand. Transformation complete, she turned on a dime and walked out the locker room.

A moment of silence followed before Pollen poked her head out the locker she had hidden away in. “Well, this isn’t good.”

//////

Marinette had never been so uncomfortable in her life. That included that time when she was seven and her twice removed cousins from her dad’s side came over and asked her why she didn’t wear dresses if she liked making them so much. And that one time she stepped foot first into a mud puddle, lost her shoe, and had to walk home with a sock soaked in mud.

It was bad.

Audrey, once Chloe had stormed out, continued on her tirade. “Ugh, how dramatic. Little Charlie needs to learn her place. She simply can’t compare to talent like yours, dear.”

Starting at being addressed, Marinette gave her a pinched smile.

“Now,” Audrey continued. “You simply must come to New York with me. The opportunities are endless, and skill such as yours would flourish under my attention!”

Her heart skipped a beat. New York was a big deal for fashion. Next to Paris, it was the place to be, and opening up her contacts to overseas big names would be a huge step for her career.

But could she work with someone this awful?

Sure, Marinette didn’t like Chloe, but even she thought that how her own mother treated her was cruel. It made her feel bad for the girl. It explained a lot about her, and for a moment Marinette considered being nicer to Chloe.

Not that that would make Chloe suddenly decide to be a good person. It would take the inevitable explosion of the sun for that to happen.

“I-i, um, I need to think about it, Mrs. Bourgeois.” Marinette glanced over at her parents. “I have a lot to consider about leaving or staying, and my parents still need my help at the bakery.”

Her parents, and oh how she loved them, spoke up immediately, “Oh, we can manage the bakery dear! Don’t worry about little old us, what’s important is your future.”

Please, take the hint guys.

Before Marinette can struggle to find more excuses to deny her request, Adrien pipes up, “Mrs. Bourgeois,” he flashes her an award winning smile, “Don’t you think that the way Chloe was handled was a bit… out of hand?” Gabriel laid a hand on Adrien’s shoulder, squeezing it gently before sharing a look with Natalie and wandering off.

Audrey rolled her eyes behind her sunglasses. “Oh, darling, for such a sweet thing you can be so daft. Girls like that need a quick strike down before they let their misguidedness get to their head.”

Adrien, for his part, kept smiling. For those who knew him well enough, they could see the twitch in his eye as he struggled not to snap at the woman. “Ah, my apologies. In my experience, the best growth comes from a guiding hand that focuses on building a person up rather than tearing them down. But I suppose, for a critic, that is not the case at all. Though, the modelling experience is often different from the experience of those who make judgement calls on others’ hard work.”

Bringing a hand to her chest, Audrey sniffs derisively. “Sure, dear. Of course, most models are meant to make anything they wear look pretty, so it can be hard to see where their accessories are lacking when all they see is themselves.”

Marinette wanted to desperately be anywhere but where she was standing. She almost wished that someone had bust in with the Bee miraculous and caused a scene just so she could excuse herself.

She’d rather deal with her own mistakes a million fold over than this.

Mayor Andre, for his part, smiled a shaky press smile as he tried to talk his wife down.

Adrien, fed up with Audrey, grabbed Marinette ’s hand and pulled her away quickly. Natalie spared him a glance before going to converse with his bodyguard.

“Can you believe her!” Adrien simmered. “How cruel can you be to your own child!”

Marinette laughed awkwardly. “I mean, at least we know where Chloe gets it from?”

Adrien rounded on her. “Chloe is not as bad as her!”

Taking a step back, she watched Adrien wide-eyed. He sighed, taking a breath to calm himself. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you. That display was just awful.”

He ran a hand through his hair, mussing up carefully styled locks.

Hesitating, Marinette asked, “Is she… always like that?”

Adrien gave a tense nod. “Since we were young. Chloe always wanted her mother’s support, but well,” he waved his hand back in her direction, “You try reasoning with that.”

Before either could pick the conversation back up the front doors to the building burst open. Carrying comically large scissors and dressed as what could only be called a fashion disaster was an akuma that looked one bad day away from a mental breakdown.

Or, well, in the middle of a breakdown.

“Audrey Bourgeois! You claim to recognize talent when you see it, but failed to see how your own daughter can be exceptional. Well, I am the Queen Killer and if I cannot be exceptional then no one can! I’ll cut your reign to shreds.” The akuma accented her speech with a threatening snip of her scissors before launching forward at the Style Queen.

Before anyone could react, Queen Killer had Audrey between her blades and closed. A thing, white line appeared where the blades connected and, as Queen drew her weapon away, there was a horrifying moment where Marinette was sure Audrey was split into two pieces.

Instead, a dark shadow started spilling out of Audrey, enveloping her body as she screamed. When the shadow dissipates, a twisted, snarling version of Audrey that looked like she was fused together with five other versions of herself appeared. It lashed out at those around her, screeching and clawing at them.

Queen Killer laughed. “Now everyone will see how hideous and cruel you are!”

Marinette jolted out her shock as Adrien roughly pulled her away. This, unfortunately, brought Queen’s attention to them as the rest of the room also began to run.

“Dupain-Cheng!” If she had any doubt that that was Chloe, she had none now. ”You stole my mother’s love from me!”

As Queen launched forward with her scissors open, Marinette screamed, “That was not my intention! I didn’t know she would ask me to go to New York with her all over a hat!”

Alas, her pleas were not enough. Stuck in her civilian form, Marinette could not outrun the enraged Queen. Twin blades circled around her waist and cut, forcing Marinette to stumble and fall.

Adrien, worried for his friend, stopped and tried to go back for her. But, between a snarling Queen and Marinette urging him to keep running as a dark shadow overtook her, he kept running. The best thing for Marinette would be Chat Noir and Ladybug. He would have time to check on her later.

Marinette , meanwhile, felt the shadows come off her and… she looked the same. For a moment, she was confused. What was the akuma’s power supposed to be?

But then it bubbled up. Nothing physical. No, that would be too easy. As she looked up towards Queen and thought ‘I need to transform into Ladybug’ a wave of crushing doubt and insecurity gripped her throat.

She would just mess up again. Like she had when she started out, when she lost the Bee miraculous, and every time she let someone get harmed by an akuma. There was no way she could do this. Chat Noir would be better off without her.

As the building cleared and Queen ran out to terrorize the fleeing patrons, Marinette stayed on the ground, shaking. What could she do? Make things worse? Disappoint all of Paris? Put Fu and Chat Noir in danger?

Distantly, she heard someone talking to her, urging her to get up and move. The voice disappeared as he heard footsteps and she was lifted into someone’s arms. A hop, skip, and a jump later had her safely placed down on a chair in a private room, looking into the eyes of Chat Noir. His eyebrows were brought together in concern.

“Stay here, okay? I promise Ladybug and I will fix things for you.” He offered a reassuring smile before dashing out of the room.

When she couldn’t hear his footsteps anymore, Tikki flew out of her pocket. “ Marinette !” The little ladybug placed her paws on her face, getting her to look at Tikki. “Are you okay? What happened after she cut you?”

Shaking her head, Marinette focused on her breathing. ‘C’mon Mari,’ she thought to herself, ‘You can’t let Chat do this alone.’

“I, uh,” she looked back at Tikki, “It’s so bad Tikki. I’m going to mess up and make things worse. Like yesterday with the Bee miraculous! I lost it! Instead of getting help, I lost a potential ally and a powerful magical artifact. If I can’t even keep track of things placed under my care, how can I protect Paris?”

Tikki was at a loss for words. This reminded her so much of the Marinette she first met- unconfident, afraid, and so uncertain in her actions. It was like the cut brought out all the most hurtful parts of herself…

“ Marinette ,” Tikki began, “We all make mistakes. What’s important is working to fix them. Sure, if you do nothing you can’t mess up or disappoint people, but you also can’t grow and succeed. Paris needs its Ladybug, regardless of what the people think of you. I know you can do this. Chat will be there to help you too, I’m sure of it.”

Doubt in her eyes, Marinette nodded. While her doubts and insecurity swirled in her mind, the urge to help others reigned supreme. She had to at least stop the akuma and set things back to normal.

“Alright Tikki,” Marinette swallowed thickly. “Spots On!”

///////////

Chat was not having a good time.

His first thought upon finding Queen snipping people in half with her scissors was that he could easily beat her in combat. What could she do with a pair of large scissors when he had a versatile staff?

A lot, apparently.

As he dodged backwards from another attempt to cut him in half from Queen, he tossed a jab her way. “So is clashing colors the new look, or did I miss the memo?”

Queen huffed at him, “Says the boy in full leather! I would know a fashion disaster when I see one!”

She ran at him again, holding the scissors completely open so she could swipe at him with a blade. Chat blocked it with his staff, before pushing her away as she tried to close the blades on him.

“Excuse you, Queenie!” He retorted. “I’ll have you know that my outfit is purr-fect.”

Clearly, she disagreed, if the groan and slash at him was anything to go by.

What a party pooper.

But what was worse was that he couldn’t get close enough to her to properly disarm her. Nor could he figure out where the akuma was while trying his best to not get cut in half. Chat needed to regroup with Ladybug, but she was nowhere in sight.

Biting his lip, Chat jumped back and up onto a rooftop. Giving Queen Killer a salute, he started away from her.

“Get back here you mangy cat!” Queen simmered on the ground below where he ran off. “You better bring back Ladybug so I can take you both off your high horse!”

///////////

Pollen was not the best at sneaking around. Not for lack of trying, of course, but people were ingrained to see a blur of yellow and the sound of buzzing and think ‘Bee!’ It didn’t help that she was larger than the average bee.

What did help, however, was people being too busy staring at an akuma running full tilt down the street to pay attention to the yellow being that was trying to stay unnoticed behind them. So Pollen got a front row seat to Queen’s akuma speech and display of her powers. When Chat Noir showed up she waited for her chance to talk to him or Ladybug whenever she came around.

And, well, there went Chat running for his life.

Pollen sighed. At least flying along rooftops was less obvious than following an akuma.

After shooting past building after building, she manages to get closer to the black blur that was Chat Noir. He was vaulting along, keeping an eye out as he worked on not plummeting to the ground. When he finally stopped to catch his breath, Pollen nearly sped past him.

As Chat retracts his staff and starts to dial Ladybug, Pollen drops down in front of him. “Oh!” He stumbles back, “Hello? Who are you?”

Pollen smooths out her fluff and offers a paw. “I am Pollen, Kwami and Order and Subjugation, and the one who dwells inside the Bee Miraculous. You must be Chat Noir. A pleasure.”

Chat, mystified, offers a finger. “Nice to meet you. I thought you would be with Master Fu and your miraculous?”

“Ah, well,” Pollen tilted her head. “Did Ladybug not tell you?”

He pinched his lips. “No?”

“Ladybug lost my miraculous in the fight with Style Queen. You weren’t there, though, were you?” Pollen considered him for a moment. “I don’t blame you for that, nor do I blame Ladybug for losing my miraculous. But that isn’t important right now.”

Accepting the hand Chat placed out for her, she settles into his palm. “I need to talk to you and Ladybug, but the akuma is our first priority. What do you know about them?”

“Well,” Chat began, “I believe it is Chloe Bourgeois. But as for the akuma,” He scratched the back of his head with his free hand, “I’m not too sure. My current two guesses are her scissors or her hat, since she normally doesn’t have either on her.”

Pollen nodded thoughtfully, despite having seen the akuma land in Chloe’s sunglasses. There was no way she could tell Chat Noir without him having at least some suspicions as to who she was with at the moment. At the very least, he could narrow it down to who had been around Chloe when she transformed.

Chat pushed on. “Even if we managed to subdue Queen Killer and get the akuma out, we wouldn’t be able to do anything until Ladybug gets here to purify it. The best we can do is wait and try to stop as much damage as possible.”

“Actually,” Pollen butt in, with a slow smile spreading across her face, “I may have a solution to that.” Chat tipped his head to the side. “I can immobilize people with my power. As long as I can hold onto the power they will remain frozen, or until I touch them to let them free.”

He perked up, stars in his eyes. “Like how Plagg can use Cataclysm when he’s himself! That’s perfect, Pollen.”

She nodded eagerly, before stopping. “Wait, did you not know kwamis can use their own power?”

Chat looked confused, but nodded slowly. “I didnt figure that out until he used it to free from an akuma a while ago.”

Pollen buzzed, frustrated, before saying, “The Guardian should have told you that! It’s important for a holder to know about their miraculous and kwami, especially a trouble maker like Plagg.”

“Well,” Chat scuffed his foot on the roof, “I don’t speak to the Guardian that much. Last time we talked was when he came to my house and talked about the Miracle Box and such.”

“That’s ridiculous!” Pollen moved out of Chat’s hand and floated in an irritated circle. “You should be just as informed as Ladybug. It’s not fair to you or her to pile information on one of you and expect the other to just go along with it!”

Chat shrugged. “That’s how it’s been for most of it. Besides, I trust Ladybug with my life.”

“But, when keeping so many secrets, can she trust hers with you?” Pollen replied with a meaningful look in her eyes.

She received no response. Instead of dwelling on the matter, she urged Chat to get back to Queen Killer. They still had a job to do, after all.

/////////

Ladybug arrived on the scene to find Chat nowhere in site and Queen Killer happily snipping at random citizens. Great. Before she can engage with the akuma, she hesitates. Could she really do this without Chat? What if she lost her miraculous because she let her civilian self get hit with the akuma’s power?

Shaking her head, she prepared to head in when a flash of black caught her eye. The familiar form of Chat pole vaulting across the rooftops to her left filled her with a sense of relief. She really, seriously needed to keep it together.

Taking a second, she throws her yo-yo to wrap around a chimney in Chat’s path. Her heart races as she tests the line and jumps. Shit, shit, shit, she’s gonna hit the wall, then Queen will notice her, then-

She made it on the roof with two scraped knees. Not flawless, but still unseen. Chat landed beside her, more than happy to see his Lady. A frown creased his brow as he took in her demeanor.

“Are you alright?” He checks her over for wounds, but comes back with nothing beyond a few scratches. “Did something happen?”

Ladybug goes to dismiss the idea before Tikki’s words ring in her head again ‘Chat will be there to help you too.’ Shaking her head, she gave Chat a grimace. “Queen managed to cut me while I was in my civilian form. Even after I transformed the effects are bothering me. It’s… brought back a lot of my insecurity and confidence issues. But we can do this, I know we can.”

Chat nodded, resting a hand on her shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze. “Don’t worry, I have a plan. And some back up.”

“Backup?”

A yellow figure lands on Chat’s shoulder. “Hello, Ladybug. It’s nice to see you again.”

Blinking in shock, Ladybug exclaims, “You’re the kwami from the Bee miraculous! Oh god, another thing I messed up, I’m so, so sorry.”

Pollen holds up a paw, stopping her. “It’s not your fault. You were in a tight situation and did the best you could. Besides, I’m with someone who may be a good ally in the future. They just need time.”

Chat and Pollen brought Ladybug up to speed on their ideas, to which she poked and prodded at. They exchanged glances before nodding and Chat and Pollen split. Still standing on the roof, Ladybug calls her Lucky Charm. It dropped from the sky as a red and black spotted crowbar.

Keeping the crowbar in hand, Ladybug drew Queen’s attention with a hit to her scissors. “Hey!” Ladybug called out, “Don’t you know scissors are dangerous?”

Queen Killer growled back, “Of course you would start preaching at me, little miss perfect. I bet everyone in the whole city loves you. Well I’m here to cut your heroic tales short!” She launched forward, bouncing off a car and digging her scissors into the side of the building to propel her up to the rooftop to get on Ladybug’s level.

Ladybug, in a quick move, flipped over her and flung her yo-yo around the scissors to send Queen flying back to the ground. Before she could hit a lamppost, Queen dug the blades into the street to slow herself down, only to run back to Ladybug.

‘Good,’ Ladybug thought to herself, ‘Keep coming.’

In the moments before Queen got back in range, Ladybug took a moment to eye the area around her for clues on how to use the Lucky Charm. Nothing stood out, so she sprung from the rooftop to land before Queen and send her yo-yo swinging at her feet.

Queen, quick to the punch, lowered her scissors to cut the yo-yo string. Ah, what a lovely and easy mistake to make when fighting a person who used scissors with a string based weapon. Panicking, Ladybug brought up the crowbar to stop the scissors from striking her.

Pulling back, Queen raced in again with the blades open, looking to trap Ladybug the same way she had Chat in their fight before. Ladybug readied her crowbar, bringing it up to block again. Queen smirked, shutting the blades in a smooth motion. By luck or skill, Ladybug managed to sidestep the action, getting the crowbar’s hook caught in between the blades. Seeing her chance, Ladybug used the hook to pull the scissors from Queen’s hands.

Spitting a curse, Queen abandoned her scissors to tackle Ladybug.

Chat, meanwhile, called forth his Cataclysm and rushed the scissors, destroying them with a touch. When no akuma appeared, he looked back confused. Queen kept fighting Ladybug, managing to get the upper hand as Ladybug hesitated in kicking her off. As Queen pinned Ladybug’s hand with one of her own and reached for her miraculous Chat sprung towards her.

He wouldn’t make it in time.

But Queen stopped dead in her tracks, eyes wide beneath the wide-brimmed hat. Pollen popped up from behind her, giving Ladybug a little giggle. “Sorry, I meant to do that a little earlier.”

This time with no reservations, Ladybug pushed Queen off of her. Chat bounded over to her to help her up, to which she shook her head and pointed at Queen. “Find the akuma.”

Receiving a nod, she picked herself up to retrieve the cut off part of her yo-yo. Chat, in this time, took Queen’s hat and ripped it. For good measure, he broke the goggles on them as well. Lo and behold, the akuma haphazardly fluttered out. Before it could escape, Ladybug snapped it up in her yo-yo.

“Bye, bye little butterfly,” Ladybug murmured, letting it fly off into the sky. With a nod to her partner, she threw her crowbar into the air and let forth the rush of ladybugs to fix the damage done.

Pollen, seeing Chloe safely de-akumatized, gave Chat a little nod before rushing off. He made a move to go after her when a bawl reached his ears. Chloe, freshly purified, was trying her best to keep it together. But as Chat knelt to help her to her feet, she jumped him for a hug.

“I’m sorry,” she cried. “I’m sorry that I was too pathetic to not get akumatized again. My mother was right about me, I’m so, so sorry.”

Chat rubbed her back slowly. “What your mother said was cruel and unfounded. You’re not pathetic at all, Chloe.”

“And it’s definitely not your fault. Even the strongest, most exceptional people can get akumatized,” Ladybug added, “Besides, even heroes have bad days.” Not that she considered Chloe even close to a hero.

Andre chose this moment to come bustling through the doors of the building behind them. “Princess, my darling!”

Seeing that she was in good hands, Chat and Ladybug pound their fists together and part ways.

Ladybug, however, is stopped by Pollen two blocks over. “There you are! Thank goodness. Can you show me where your miraculous is so I can return it to Master Fu?”

“No,” Pollen told her quietly, “But I want to ask you to trust me. I’ve found someone who needs my help. Maybe one day she could be a great hero, maybe not. But this person has gone through a lot of heartbreak and I don’t want to be another person that leaves her behind. I want you to tell Fu that I have decided to stay with them.”

“Wait, but what about secrecy? How will we know they won't spread the word about the miraculous or accidentally lead Hawkmoth to you?” Ladybug fretted, cupping her hands for Pollen to land in.

“I haven’t told her the transformation words, yet.” Pollen stroked her hand reassuringly. “That way if things go south I can still manage to keep my power from being abused. Please, Ladybug, trust me.”

Biting her lip, Ladybug hesitantly nodded. “Please stay safe, Pollen. If you ever need my help don’t hesitate to ask.”

Giving her a bright smile, Pollen floated up to nuzzle Ladybug’s forehead. After giving parting words, they went off in different directions.

Hopefully, Pollen hadn’t just made a huge mistake.

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous tales of ladybug and chat noir #ml #ml fanfic #ml fanfiction #chloe bourgeois #chloe bourgeois redemption #ladybug #marianette dupaign-cheng #chat noir #adrien agreste #pollen #pollen (ladybug)#pollen the kwami #bee kwami #tikki #plagg #marinette dupain cheng

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usuccc · 4 years

Note

Please talk more about that au, villain Alfred is a guilty pleasure 🙏🏻

*sweats* You and me both! Oh man, where to begin. First of all, thanks for the interest! It means a lot. I can’t be concise, so I’m gonna put this under a huge ‘Keep Reading’ for whoever is interested. Like for real there is a whole ass essay below that cut. I left some stuff out cause it’s already a ridiculous length, but I got the gist of it.

Leave it to me to take a silly gag au and go completely off the rails with it. It’s honestly hilarious gg me.

This au takes place in some fake big city with dark synthwave-y aesthetics where the skies are constantly gray in the daytime from smog and pollution. Over the last ~20-30 years, Jones Enterprises has risen up as the most influential and powerful company in the United States, with their headquarters in (fake big city’s name). They have hands in many industries, spanning the manufacturing, retail, and technology spheres. Over the past 5 years, especially, they’ve seen massive, nearly unbelievable growth, and unfortunate events or sell-outs have conveniently fallen upon their competitors, allowing them to create monopolies in several industries. They also have the government in an iron grip and no one is willing to stand up to them for fear of the consequences. Most people mysteriously feel compelled not to confront them anyway, especially those who live closest to their headquarters.

Francis was an employee for Jones Enterprises’ main headquarters. He saw how overworked and underpaid his colleagues were. Bogged down by overwork in his first year, he eventually tried to get away with slacking as much as he could. After witnessing one of his close coworkers have a heart attack and almost die from the stress of working there, he changed gears and started speaking out on behalf of his colleagues. Some of his motivation came from feeling partially responsible for what happened, and he wanted to evoke positive change across the company instead. He tried time and time again to organize strikes after his attempts to organize a union were completely shattered. The turnout was very little in the beginning, and soon fizzled out to just him. He stubbornly pressed forward on his own anyway and was fired for it. Finding other work turned out to be impossible, his firing acting as an unemployment death sentence. It was not uncommon for employees fired from Jones Enterprises to be shunned from ever finding a decent job again, and Francis’s situation was even worse given the bad publicity he received from his strike attempts.

Ready to resort to desperate measures, Francis started seriously considering moving back in with his parents in France and figuring out a new plan. Jones Enterprises had gained significant influence in Europe too, so there wasn’t a guarantee he wouldn’t experience similar problems there.

Before he could buy a plane ticket, he was visited by Kiku Honda, a stranger with an unassuming appearance. Long story short, Kiku had come to the US with the alias as a simple tourist. His family was presently responsible for safekeeping a secret and powerful magical artifact with mysterious origins.

The artifact was one of two powerful stones, both of which were in existence since the beginning of mankind. These stones were antitheses of each other, representing and contributing to major moral conflicts throughout history. They were both drawn to chosen human hosts who were destined to face each other. The pink stone, which Kiku was in possession of, gained and gave magical power through love, equality, and hope/healing. It formed a positive, nurturing, non-invasive connection with its host, and gave them the power to protect and inspire hope in others. The other (purple) stone gained and gave magical power through greed, subjugation, and fear. It gave great wrath and influence to its host, whose powers would grow exponentially over time as the two stayed connected. This stone would physically embed itself in its host’s heart, eating away at their mind slowly to bring out the absolute worst in them and shave away at their morals and inhibitions, until they were nothing but a heartless monster. Tendrils would spread out from the stone throughout the host’s body, growing in size and number the longer they were connected.

Kiku had long suspected that the unnatural growth of Jones Enterprises was connected to the purple stone. He had gradually implanted connections in Jones Enterprises and had been monitoring the situation for clues of a potential host. The senior leadership of the company was very hard to crack, however, and the CEO had significantly limited his public appearances in recent years, but Kiku would not let it rest. Any of the higher ups in the company could be a candidate for suspicion. While investigating, he heard of and even saw some of Francis’s brazen attempts to challenge the seemingly invincible company. He was impressed with Francis’s ability to stand up to an insurmountable foe, especially given the influence of the mysterious compelling force that kept most others in the city silent. He wanted to get information from Francis about his experience at Jones Enterprises and to offer him an opportunity to rebuild his life for his bravery. The stone, which Kiku always kept on his person, ended up choosing and bonding with Francis to both of their surprise, and boom Magical Strike was born.

-----

Now onto Alfred and Arthur. Alfred is the son of the founder and CEO of Jones Enterprises and his ex-wife. His parents divorced when he was still a baby, and his father did not remarry. Alfred’s mom remarried right away and had another son, Matthew.

In his home life, Alfred often felt neglected and overlooked compared to Matthew, whom his mom and stepdad preferred and doted on. His birth father ignored him in favor of growing his company as well. This caused Alfred to act out at school and extracurricular activities, always overshadowing Matthew whenever possible and rubbing it in his face. He often got in trouble at home later for it. When Alfred got a little older, he frequently snuck out after these fights and went somewhere to be alone. One night, he walked down to the neighborhood park and saw another boy alone by the swings where he usually liked to go to mope. This boy was a few years older than him and muttering angrily to himself. Feeling a sort of weird camaraderie for this other pissed off dude, coupled with the fact he’d never seen him before and was curious, Alfred took the plunge and went over to talk to him. Alfred and Arthur’s first meeting was a little rocky, but the two quickly found themselves warming up to each other. Many coincidences found them meeting in the same park after a bad day, and the two eventually bonded and made a thing of it. Alfred found that with Arthur he could open up and be more authentic than he let himself be with his other friends.

By the time he hit high school, Alfred emotionally detached himself from his mom/stepdad, and tried to be a little nicer to Matthew, although their relationship was never close. He and Arthur still met often outside of school, and Alfred tried to reach out to him at school too, but Arthur limited those interactions due to his unfavorable status as an irritable loner. Alfred continued to seek out other people’s attention, forming a ton of superficial friendships with his classmates. He became obsessed with being number one at everything he did and getting everyone to like him to patch up his residual feelings of loneliness and inadequacy, and also to hopefully impress Arthur, whom he secretly had a crush on. Excelling in his sports clubs, and even skipping a grade in his academics, Alfred felt like things would be okay if they kept going the way they were.

Then Arthur abruptly confided halfway into Alfred’s freshman year that he was moving back to England that year after he graduated for family reasons. Alfred didn’t take the news well, and when the time came for Arthur to leave, it hit Alfred hard. They promised they’d keep in touch via phone and online, but that did little to comfort him and his other shallow friendships often made him feel worse. The feelings of loneliness and inadequacy returned tenfold. It was around this time that Alfred was contacted for the first time by his birth father in years, asking to meet and catch up. Alfred readily accepted, not taking a moment to think it through in his low emotional state.

Alfred’s dad was getting into some weird shit since the divorce. He’d been putting obsessive efforts into expanding his company, making strategic partnerships, attending all kinds of rich, bougie events for networking purposes, and exploiting his workers to maximize profits. Despite his efforts, his returns were decreasing and the existence of some key new competitors put him in a tough spot for future growth. When conventional methods didn’t appear to be making any progress, Alfred’s father started hanging around some wealthy, sketchy social circles. It’s through a series of events with these groups that he learned of and obtained the purple stone. After seeing it reject and devour an unfit host before his eyes, he decided he was in desperate need of its supposed power, but he couldn’t risk using it on himself in the case he was judged to be unfit. He had to use it on someone inconsequential if things went wrong, but at the same time malleable, so he could ensure they used the power to further his goals.

Alfred’s dad put on an act when Alfred arrived, making it seem like he wanted to bring Alfred back into his life, raise him up like he should have been doing all those years. Alfred soaked it up like a sponge, and his dad appeared to follow through on his promises, engaging with him and frequently making secret visits so they could spend quality time together. After a whole year of building Alfred’s trust, his dad was able to convince him to put the stone to his heart, assuring him that only he could do it and he trusted Alfred to make their company and the lives of so many people who depended on it great. The stone embedded itself in Alfred’s chest, causing him to pass out from the pain. When he woke up, still in one piece, his dad was able to calm him down and convince him to keep it a secret, even from the people he was closest to.

-----

Some other tidbits of info:

Arthur and Alfred did keep up communication after he left for England, and he considers Alfred his closest friend. Life got in the way plenty of times, though, and they couldn’t always keep up the most consistent communication. Still, they did what they could and were able to meet in person a few times even. Arthur obtained a degree in England and worked his first job there. But after that, he moved back to the states and got a job at Jones Enterprises, thrilled to surprise Alfred about it. They have a heartwarming reunion. Alfred, himself, graduated high school early, got accepted into an Ivy League college on a scholarship, received his degree in finance and business management due to his piece of shit dad’s wishes, and was being directed by his dad to start using his powers of influence on their competitors. At first, he justified to himself that the outcome would be good and that the competitors he was going after were bad people—which some of them definitely were—but over time, he found himself doing things he never would have before (to unhappy employees for example), caring less and less about the people that were impacted.

-----

So yeah, the main events take place about 10 years after Alfred becomes the host for the purple stone, having plenty of time to grow his power and lose himself to the stone’s influence in secret. When Francis makes his debut as Magical Strike, Alfred starts infusing some of Jones Enterprise’s key weapons tech with his magic and sending people after Francis, who is still learning his abilities. Then, in the latter half of this arc, Arthur becomes the main antagonist against Francis, having just scratched the surface of what’s really going on with Alfred and thinking (in denial) this will somehow help him. At the beginning of the second arc, there would be growing tension between Alfred and Arthur when Arthur can’t explain or keep excusing Alfred’s actions anymore. Alfred would lose control and almost hurt Arthur, whom he had taken the most care to hide his darker side from, which would cause Arthur to join forces with Francis, desperate to find a way to get the purple stone out of Alfred and save him somehow. Alfred mcfuckin loses it when he finds out.

#hi i'm al and i have a kink for mind control and betrayal followed by healing bye #my token chaotic evil alfred but it ain't his fault #there is so much angst in this au #but there's a positive leaning ending dw #francis: why do i hear boss music #like legit arthur's betrayal scene is imprinted in my head frame for frame #i wanna draw it but it would have to be a comic why do all my thoughts come in comic form why #magical strike au #al's aus

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ultimaa · 4 years

Text

TRUTH

Eren & Mikasa / 1992 words / Canonverse.

Truth is always simple, but we usually get there by the most complicated path.

George Sand.

Shigansina was chaos, a rumble, the first victim of the apocalypse. Eren Jaeger had sworn to end the world, and in his words there was as much anger as determination.

"That bastard has condemned us," were Jean's words.

They had taken cover, but the noise was such that they barely got to hear each other. The walls had fallen and the colossals walked the earth, like a walking chaos, like death incarnate.

"It's worse than that day," Mikasa thought, and she put a discreet hand on her head. Armin looked at her sideways, worried, but he said nothing.

"We'll talk to Eren," Arlet decided.

"Are you crazy, Armin? That dude no longer attends to reasons," Connie seemed to have abandoned her hope. Maybe he lost it with Sasha. He simply dropped to the ground, downcast. "It's the end. Commander Hanji and Captain Levi aren’t here. Everything is lost. How could we think... that everything would end well, that we would achieve peace? We are destined to die. Since Bertolt and Reiner appeared ten years ago, from that moment, I had to imagine that it was only a matter of time," And the tears gathered in his eyes. "Sasha's death was useless."

Armin wanted to tell him something, encourage him, slap him gently on the back and assure him everything would work out. However, hope was beginning to fade from his blue eyes. Eren was on their side, he was the protector of Paradise Island, but what was the price? If Eren devastated everything beyond the sea, they would become the devils that the world repudiated. No man could stand up to a situation like this, so Armin simply clenched his fists and thought of the old Eren, his good friend, and he wondered where that child was, that impetuous young man, but excellent in friendship.

To everyone's surprise, Jean Kirstein's face was tinged with an inexplicable anger. He approached Connie and lifted him, grabbing him tightly by the shoulders.

"What the hell are you doing! How can you say that!" the man relaxed a little, but remained serious. "You're a soldier, Connie, damn it! We can not give up. We know that suicide bastard and, in addition, it turns out that he has now gone mad and unpredictable. He has gotten into my head, the moron. Every time he got into trouble, we had to save his ass. We are used to it. We've done it before and we'll do it now, because that bastard…” He looked at Armin, and then stared at Mikasa," he has many things to say."

"What do you want us to do?" Connie sipped her nose. "Approaching him is very dangerous and we don't know if he wants to talk. God, Jean, the last time he spoke with Mikasa and Armin he behaved like a bastard, with his lifelong friends! What makes you think that now it will be different?"

"Mikasa," Jean called, "what did Eren tell you?"

The woman squeezed her lips.

"He hates me... he hates me since we were children. He has always hated me. I am nothing but a slave, my Ackerman blood chained me to him."

Kirstein let out a sardonic laugh and released Connie.

"I'm gonna have to talk to him about women's hearts, who would say it," then he turned to Armin. "Let's do it. Armin, you and Mikasa will approach him while Connie and I distract the Titans. We will clear the way. Make him right, hit him if necessary. You know him more than we do, I'm sure he will listen to you."

Jean drew his swords. Connie, after wiping the tears away from his face, did the same. Both men stared at each other, as those who will face the last and toughest battle.

"Are we gonna die, Jean?"

"I don't know, nobody knows. I have spent all these years fearing my body ended up burning in a pyre, like Marco. That's why I should have joined the Police, but I didn't. Eren convinced me not to. If I had, I would probably have finished drinking the poisoned wine, becoming a titan like all those miserables. That would be unfortunate. I joined Legion and I’m proud. If I have to die today... at least it will be fighting," he smiled slyly. "And if we die today, Connie, lots of women will mourn our death, the death of two heroes."

Mikasa put a hand on Kirstein's shoulder. He tensed for a moment.

"Don't die, Jean," the woman asked. "You neither, Connie."

And then they threw themselves into the jaws of chaos. The Marleyans fled in terror. As Mikasa moved forward, her mind was lost in the past, on that trip to Marley, and it was as if a lightning struck her. What am I to you? Why hadn't she been honest? She was not even with herself. No…

"Mikasa!" Armin shouted.

When she left her thoughts, a large hand hovered over her body. Mikasa dodged it, but she rushed into the desolate streets of the city which saw her grow. When she came to realize, she was getting up from the paving, stunned by the blow. A giant was approaching her, slow, smiling, as it was five years ago, in Trost. Why did she keep fighting? Why Eren? What part of Eren had she seen? Was it his true face, or just an illusion? She tilted the head and saw Louise lying across the street. The young girl was dead. She approached her with slow steps, feeling the presence of the criature on her back, and removed the red scarf from the neck of Louise, who was a girl so many years ago. She fell to her knees, the garment in her lap, and touched her cold face.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered. "I could not save you."

Then, like lightning, Jean cut the hams of the titan that stalked her. Again, she was saved from imminent death.

"Come on, Mikasa!" Jean cried.

The woman, making a cyclopean effort, stood up and put the scarf around her neck. She rose again, like a wounded bird, and headed like an arrow towards that hulk of bones that Eren had created, that monstrosity which encompassed wherever the sight would go. Armin watched the scene from a roof, speechless.

"Where is Eren?"

Smoke and dust did not allow to see clearly. Mikasa, without thinking too much, went into that maelstrom. Surprised, Armin went after her. The woman discerned a loud roar between the screams and followed it. There were heavy blows, and a new growl, more pitiful than the last. Mikasa could barely discern the silhouette of Reiner’s titan being subjected to something much larger, a much taller and more bulky titan, but easily recognizable to her. It was Eren. That huge creature crushed Reiner without any difficulty. Braun fell so as not to rise again. Mikasa moved on, ignoring Armin's voice, and stood before Eren. The recognition shone in his eyes.

"Eren!"

Armin confronted him.

"Stop this, things don't have to be that way! Eren, listen to me!"

But Eren did not listen, so Mikasa fired her hooks and climbed him up to hang on his mop of hair. The big green eyes looked at her furiously.

"Eren, please..."

Don’t do this to yourself.

In a deliberate act, the titan shook and Mikasa held on tight, trying not to fall. She wouldn't let him go until they achieved their goal. Jean and Connie were giving their lives for it. For this man, whose good part seemed to have disappeared, lost in chaos, subjugated by the cruelty of the world. From the beginning, it was always the world. What had it turned them into? Mikasa knew: there was still some of the Eren she knew, the real Eren. The immense creature shook its neck again and roared, and did not stop until it got rid of Mikasa, throwing her with an unusual force. She heard Armin's stark scream, but she still hadn't given up. So she clenched her teeth, wielded her swords and, with burning tears running down her face, she responded with a shout from the depths of her guts.

Fight! You have to fight! If you don't win, you will die! You can't win if you don't fight! Fight!

My head is going to explode.

She descended like divine justice and laid a kilometer slash on the titan's back. The blades barely sliced the skin and Armin's thunder spears didn't inflict great damage either. The blond gave up and considered the possibility of transforming, but Mikasa continued in her private dance against Eren, who simply dodged her and regenerated the few wounds she made in a matter of seconds. The power of the Founder ran through his veins; He was invincible, Mikasa knew it, but she didn't want to beat him. She wanted to talk.

"Eren, I know you can listen to me! You have to stop all this! Remember when we went to Marley! There are innocent people all over the world, we can't blame them all... for the evil of a few!"

For the first time in a long time, Mikasa Ackerman was filled with an animal fury because of Eren's indifference. The screams, the gigantic steps that moved away in the distance, Armin's voice, Jean's words, Sasha's death, Reiner's fall. All that surpassed her, and in her movements was engraved an agility that exceeded human capacity, something that had only been seen in the missing Levi Ackerman. It was hard for Eren to dodge her, and, finally, Mikasa gave him an accurate cut in the right eye. The pulsations of her heart touched a dangerous limit; every muscle in her body burned and howled in pain, but she had perfect coordination. Move on. Up and down. Attack, protect. However, it was a matter of time before that state was over. Fatigue, like her strength, was monstrous.

"Mikasa," Armin shouted. "Take cover, I will transform!"

I can not anymore.

The woman hung on Eren's hair, at the nape. The shattered blades fell to a vacuum of more than twenty-five meters. Mikasa stood there, hanging, feeling her hand slide slowly due to sweat. She was soaked in blood, in dust and dirt. She was the vivid image of who had already given all of herself. Only the word remained; even if they were the words of a slave, Eren would have to listen to them. He would have to listen to them while he captained the catastrophe. Inside the titan, in the entrails, he took refuge, calm, with the look of a man whose life has become an unhappy existence. A man who had condemned his soul.

"I understand you don't want to hear someone you hate," she began, dragging each syllable heavily. "It's fine. I've always... been selfish. I wanted to be by your side, protect you, but I wasn’t able to... I wasn’t able to see what was happening to you. You were suffering, and you still do. I wish I had realized before because I would have tried anything, I would have done whatever it took to avoid all this, I would have given everything for you to stay with us, with me."

Mikasa remembered the good times before the invasion of Marley, the parties with the guys. She could die with that in mind.

“You gave me a family when I lost mine, you reminded me that the world is not only a cold and hostile place, but it can also be beautiful. It was thanks to you. Thanks for showing it to me. This world is cruel, but undoubtedly beautiful," she closed her eyes and her consciousness fade little by little. "I am a liar; I couldn’t be honest even with me. You... aren’t my family. My family died a long time ago, but... I would like to start my own family with you, because the truth is I... have always loved you."

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somnilogical · 4 years

Text

i am prepared to face god this instant

in the case of the native americans, in a counterfactual world where every native human could would do with their muscles what they would yell at a book character in their situation to do with their mouth. where people could would make choices from a third person point of view and then carry out the choices. where when asked by an interrogator for the names of your rebel companions, you say you will know them when they come to avenge me.

<<On 8 Feb 1943, the Nazis hung 17-year-old Yugoslav partisan Lepa Radić. When asked the names of her companions, she replied: “You will know them when they come to avenge me”.>>

<<N. Stolyarova recalls an old woman who was her neighbor on the Butyrki bunks in 1937. They kept on interrogating her every night. Two years earlier, a former Metropolitan of the Orthodox Church, who had escaped from exile, had spent a night at her home on his way through Moscow. “But he wasn’t the former Metropolitan, he was the Metropolitan! Truly, I was worthy of receiving him.” “All right then. To whom did he go when he left Moscow?” “I know, but I won’t tell you!” (The Metropolitan had escaped to Finland via an underground railroad of believers.) At first the interrogators took turns, and then they went after her in groups. They shook their fists in the little old woman’s face, and she replied: “There is nothing you can do with me even if you cut me into pieces. After all, you are afraid of your bosses, and you are afraid of each other, and you are even afraid of killing me.” (They would lose contact with the underground railroad.) “But I am not afraid of anything. I would be glad to be judged by God right this minute.”

There were such people in 1937 too, people who did not return to their cell for their bundles of belongings, who chose death, who signed nothing denouncing anyone.>>

<<One can’t say that the history of the Russian revolutionaries has given us any better examples of steadfastness. But there is no comparison anyway, because none of our revolutionaries ever knew what a really good interrogation could be, with fifty-two different methods to choose from. Just as oxcart drivers of Gogol’s time could not have imagined the speed of a jet plane, those who have never gone through the receiving-line meat grinder of Gulag cannot grasp the true possibilities of interrogation.

We read in Izvestiya for May 24, 1959, that Yuliya Rumyantseva was confined in the internal prison of a Nazi camp while they tried to find out from her the whereabouts of her husband, who had escaped from that same camp. She knew, but she refused to tell! For a reader who is not in the know this is a model of heroism. For a reader with a bitter Gulag past it’s a model of inefficient interrogation: Yuliya did not die under torture, and she was not driven insane. A month later she was simply released—still very much alive and kicking.>>

-alexander solzhenitsyn, the gulag archipelago

if all or even a majority of native americans near the missions had this neurotype, then what id suggest would be for everyone to move away from the missions and if captured refuse to work to the point of death. the missions need slave labour in order to exist and without people to feed on and with long supply lines, they would be undone and people would be free from the largest human-unfriendly institution of the era.

and the outcome would be better than ~60 years of slavery. this is choosing between timelines

somni why do you care about freedom? freedom is like ability-to-live. if people were like "well who cares about the global slavery-and-submission-and-stasis cult" until catholicism actually took over the world, the world would be much worse and we would never get to the stars.

you could say "whats the point, everyone gets assimilated to whatever the social order is now which is driving us all to doom" but like if you are in 1800s america after you keep the world ending for a set of tribes, you work on societal tech to keep it from ending in other ways and landing in this patch of equilibrium-space in the first place.

its like the difference between choosing between timelines and wondering if perhaps the money could be better spent sustaining the lives of those who could be locally saved. there are other organizing principles for moral reasoning besides these, and more than i have thought of so far. i suspect locating new ones is a spatially-loaded skill.

ben hoffman was using the choosing between consistent timelines kind of thinking when he quoted deuteronomy 30:19 in his post about REACH

http://benjaminrosshoffman.com/humans-need-places/

<<I call heaven and earth to record this day against you, that I have set before you life and death, blessing and cursing: therefore choose life, that both thou and thy seed may live.>>

https://www.sefaria.org/Deuteronomy.30.19?lang=bi&aliyot=0

which in context of the passage is exactly the same cognition that would benefit the natives to resist the world's largest human-unfriendly subjugation org and live to iteratively squirm out of these sorts of tangles in the future.

<<See, I set before you this day life and prosperity, death and adversity.

For I command you this day, to love the LORD your God, to walk in His ways, and to keep His commandments, His laws, and His rules, that you may thrive and increase, and that the LORD your God may bless you in the land that you are about to enter and possess.

But if your heart turns away and you give no heed, and are lured into the worship and service of other gods,

I declare to you this day that you shall certainly perish; you shall not long endure on the soil that you are crossing the Jordan to enter and possess.

I call heaven and earth to witness against you this day: I have put before you life and death, blessing and curse. Choose life—if you and your offspring would live—

by loving the LORD your God, heeding His commands, and holding fast to Him. For thereby you shall have life and shall long endure upon the soil that the LORD swore to your ancestors, Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, to give to them.>>

if native americans had social tech which could better survive slavery and forced relocation, maybe things would be different today.

which, this can be cast in a zero-sum frame of having your group survive versus everyone elses which runs against antinationalist heuristics.

but if you are planning to manufacture a pattern which revolutionizes the world, for the good of all life, it is instrumentally useful to avoid assimilation and submission destroying this work.

this applies to multi-generational projects as well as within-a-lifetime choices. if you choose to submit and assimilate and erase all work and structure you have built, each time someone wants to feed on you, then you i (0.7) dont think can really sustain your work.

i wonder if with this worlds distribution of neurotypes, such that maybe most humans cant run consequentialism through a rawlsian veil where they forget which human inherits the label "me" on their muscles. im somewhat optimistic that even those who cant wont make their muscles move according to this, can locate the correct answer.

though there is i think a habit among people whose neurotypes have issues to retroactively rationalize (FAKE REASONING, STORIES) that because you are unable to make your body wont choose your death over the death of three of your friends, equally or more useful to the flourishing of all life, it doesnt make sense to choose your death over theirs.

linta mentioned that they couldnt imagine knowing the right thing to do and then not doing it. that they dont have a gap between these things save for akrasia, i think it is because the gap is filled with fractally expanding justifications of the form "but you cant really expect a human being to give up their life for the sake of their companions, you need to be reasonable and work with humans who exist".

human neurodiversity exists, as a matter of historical fact not all humans have the same weaknesses. in hpmor!metaphor, some people are hermione granger and wont zap people in the milgram compliance test.

and building plans predicated on people who need to divert resources to local stuff because of their neurotype, will replace "if this were a story what plans would i yell at my character do?" with "what would someone who cant run consequentialism through a rawlsian veil, see in 3rd person and then act in harmony with this do?" "someone who needs to divert resources to babies and not personally dying, do?" "what if everyone were like this?"

labeling the latter as "what will happen if everyone is running consequentialism, playing as if from 3rd person and wants humanity to win?" is a distortion of what is going on and compounds as institutions are built on it and the boundaries of what good could be done are strictly smaller than the reach of what good could be done irl.

by the way, the milgram experiment replicated in 2015 poland. gotta check with the replication crisis.

https://qz.com/932110/researchers-have-replicated-a-notorious-social-experiment-that-claimed-to-explain-the-rise-of-fascism/

<<It is exceptionally interesting that in spite of the many years which have passed since the original Milgram experiments, the proportion of people submitting themselves to the authority of the experimenter remains very high. The result of 90% obedience which we have achieved, 95% CI [83.43%, 96.57%], is very close to the number of people pressing the 10th button in the original Milgram studies. For example, in Milgram’s (1974) Experiment No. 2, replicated in our study, 34 of 40 people pressed Button No. 10 (85% of participants, the 95% CI extends from 70.54% to 93.32%).>>

one of my moms who studies fascism once told me she thinks 40-60% of people have as their ideology that they will imitate those in power, and will go along with Power in times of an authoritarian takeover. they believe that they will eat rather than be eaten. given my experience and things like the milgram test, i think its closer to 90-95%.

reading grognor's memorial page it looked like he was very fucked up by the fact that he could do a rawlsian veil consequentialism thought experiment, where he saw himself in third person or forgot which agent was "him" and "his family" and then notice that his muscles werent moving in harmony with the logic of the results.

<<are you doing the best thing you could possibly be doing? why not?

become good

SPEAK TRULY, EVEN IF YOUR VOICE TREMBLES

you continue to underestimate the harm you have done and are doing

are you doing the best thing you could possibly be doing? why not?

The tools you have available are cognitive actions and motor actions. Use them to immanentize the eschaton. You have one life

if you were an alien suddenly transposed into your current body, what would you do now?

Pretend with every thought and action to be a much better person. Reach heaven through fraud.>>

https://grognor.github.io/archives.html

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f-nodragonart · 5 years

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Alphas and Hive Minds

HTTYD and now Godzilla:KOM have done me too dirty on this topic, I HAVE to rectify this

so let’s break this down

“alphas” are a very human-centric concept (and more arguably, a specifically capitalistic concept), and aren’t typically present in nature in the ways we expect them to be, if at ALL

“dominance” is at best a fluid concept that can sometimes help map out relationships b/t individuals under certain contexts, but it’s NOT an inherent trait. here’s a quote from an excellent article on the subject, PLEASE go read the whole thing:

You can’t really say ‘an animal is dominant’ in the same way that you can’t say ‘an animal is chasing.’ Who is that animal chasing, and who is that animal dominant in relation to?

While there are many hazy definitions of the word dominance in the current scientific literature, the most accepted one that I have seen is that dominance is a factor of a relationship between two individuals regarding control of resources. In this relationship, the submissive individual will allow the dominant individual to have the resource. Theoretically.

What dominance is NOT is a character trait. No animal is born “the alpha.” Studies of wolves in captivity and in the wild have shown that the fact that an individual is the highest-ranking member of one pack has little to no bearing on the animal’s rank if it moves to a new pack. Similarly, studies of parent-raised canids have found that no stable hierarchy forms in litters of pups. And finally, dominance relationships are often based off of the result of a single fight; if two individuals are evenly matched it can be a more or less random conclusion.

as this article goes on to explain, wild wolves typically live in “nuclear families”, so what we perceive as the “alpha couple” is actually just the parental unit to the kids who have yet to leave the nest and start their own families. anything approaching “Alpha/Beta/Omega” among wolves has mostly been observed in captive situations, where a bunch of random wolves are thrown together and forced to navigate their environment together-- it’s uncomfortable for everyone involved

now this isn’t to say that wild animals are NEVER hierarchical-- ranking is useful when dealing with large groups of individuals. however, these hierarchies are generally more complicated than a simple “perfect ladder” concept (again, from the same article):

Figure redrawn from Bradshaw, Blackwell, and Casey, 2009. Dashed lines between pairs indicate no clear dominant individual despite multiple interactions. No line between a pair indicates that the pair rarely interacted.

(while not necessarily an example of wild animal hierarchy since this is mapping out relationships within a group of shelter dogs, it’s a good example of the complexities of larger group relationships)

and one last important quote from that article, relating to submission (seriously, read the whole thing):

So much of the literature focuses on agonistic behavior, yet agonistic behavior is far, far rarer in wild canids than submissive behavior is. In nuclear wolf families, aggression is almost nonexistent.

The word ‘submissive’ has a negative connotation. It suggests a loss of power, a humbling, a subjugation. It might be better to remove it as a label for certain types of canid behavior, in that case. Canids don’t demand submissive behavior from one another, they offer it. Muzzle-biting in wolves, which seems fierce, is usually solicited from the animal being bitten- several times in a row. Far from the popularized “alpha roll,” canids rarely force each other to roll over- they use rolling over as an invitation to play or a plea for affection. This type of affiliative, cohesive behavior makes up the vast majority of all social behavior in canid groups.

A wag of the tail and an open, panting mouth is called submissive by the literature, but in that case, so is a human smile.

while this article focuses on canids, there are plenty of examples of wild groups of animals w/ some sort of ranking/hierarchy (including non-predatory animals!), just be mindful of the sources u look into. even scientific sources could have a bias based on the researcher’s personal social background

even if we ARE treating dominance as an actual trait, or creating a ‘perfect ladder’ hierarchy, there’s a BIG difference between asserting dominance via size/strength/pheromones/etc. vs. straight-up mind-controlling a group to do ur bidding. however, mind-control is unfortunately how most “alpha” media seems to frame dominance, which is simply not even POSSIBLE in nature, as far as we know

this is where we see botched attempts at “hivemind”, which isn’t even present in the hives we associate it with. here’s a post that breaks down social insects RLY well (which I recommend reading in full), but for the sake of this post, I’ll just quote some important sections:

If you think of a social insect colony as a superorganism, which it’s useful to do in many cases, different groups of insects within the colony act like organs. One caste protects the colony from invaders, which is like an immune system. One caste scouts for new places to forage, which is like a sensory system. Generally, science fiction has a good grip on this idea. Where sci-fi authors fail is that they think the queen is the brain of this superorganism. She is not. She is the reproductive system. The queen does not control what happens in the hive any more than your reproductive system controls what happens in your body. (Which is to say, she has some influence, but she is not the brains of the operation.)

~~~

Now, I’ve already told you that the queen is not the brain of the hive. So where is the brain? Well, that is exactly the point of swarm intelligence. The brain does not reside in one particular animal. It’s an emergent property of many animals working together. A colony is not like your body, where your brain sends an impulse to your mouth telling it to move, and it moves. It’s more like when two big groups of people are walking toward each other, and they spontaneously organize themselves into lanes so no one has a collision (x). There’s no leader telling them to do that, but they do it anyway.

Much of the efficiency of social insect colonies comes from very simple behavioral rules (x). Hymenopterans, the group of insects that includes ants, bees, and wasps, have a behavioral rule: work on a task until it is completed, and when it is done, switch to a different task.

~~~

The existential terror of the hive mind in science fiction comes from the loss of the self. The idea is that in a social insect colony, there is no individual, but one whole, united to one purpose. No dissent, disagreement, or conflicting interests occur, just total lockstep. I totally get why that’s scary.

The thing is, it’s just not true of real social insects. There is conflict within colonies all the time, up to and including civil war.

~~~

Here’s what I find weird about depictions of social insects in science fiction. They are portrayed as utterly alien, Other, and horrifying. Yet humans and social insects are very, very similar. The famous sociobiologists E.O. Wilson and Bernard Crespi have both described humans as chimpanzees that took on the lifestyle of ants.

and even worse than a false attempt at hivemind among just one species, “hivemind alphas” in popular media are often shown to control an array of completely separate species! as if all these diverse, uniquely-evolved creatures answer to the same, single power!

"but what if I want to KEEP alphas/hivemind? is there a way to do it ‘right?’”

well, there might just be! here are a few ways I’ve thought of

1) integrate “dominance as a trait” into reasonable caste systems and/or hierarchies

sure, something like “dominance” could theoretically be an inherent trait under certain circumstances, but what would that MEAN for the species this occurs in? this sort of system would evolve for a REASON, so what purpose do castes with different levels of “dominance” serve to the overall community?

does dominance correlate to a certain set of tasks (IE-- alphas fight and protect, omegas gather/grow/prepare food)? or is this simply a way to better keep the peace among a huge group of individuals that would otherwise in-fight too much if there weren’t any genetically-predetermined parameters in place (and if this is the case, what kind of tumultuous relationships must this species have that they wouldn’t be able to solve these issues thru social interaction)? or maybe this is a purely reproductive strategy, and there are either several different sexes based around dominance, or different castes within sexes that perform different sexual/social roles depending on population and breeding season (and if so, how does dominance factor into these reproductive strategies)?

for as much flack as the genre gets, there are a lot of ABO/omegaverse fics that actually do rly cool worldbuilding w/ the concept of “dominance as a trait” and/or genetically-predetermined castes, so I know it can work lmao

2) lean HEAVY into exploring autonomy/individuality and mind control

if u want an alpha that can override the autonomy of others, then don’t shy away from the full implications of that

what does it mean for this society if one single creature can override individual autonomy? what does this level of control mean for individuality-- if that’s even a concept that exists for these creatures? do individuals feel any particular way about their lack of true autonomy-- are they relieved to not be under the pressure of having to making decisions themselves? maybe they even feel that individuality is a psychological death-sentence-- after all, what is anxiety if not the existential dread of individuality?

are alphas born into this position of mental control, or do mentally strong individuals battle for it? if this is the case, are alphas the only ones that could be considered truly autonomous individuals? or perhaps alphas are more of the mouthpiece for the collective consciousness of their community, so their opinions and feelings shift to reflect the average consensus of their community?

if a single creature can control individuals across a wide area (such as across an entire planet), how do they do it? do they have far-spreading pheromones, a loud call, or do they use second-tier individuals to exert their control? or are all individual members of the community connected into a complex neural network? is this network so intimate as to connect all individuals in a mental web that can be tapped into at any moment, despite distance? what can transfer across this network-- complex thoughts/language, visuals, or just emotional suggestions?

also, please think deeply about how far-reaching an alpha’s control is in your world. sure, perhaps a complex neural network evolved early on enough that all of a planet’s species fall under the control of this neural umbrella, but that’s prettyyyy unlikely. a much smaller taxa level makes more sense, like just a species. this species may still be the dominant species of a given planet, but their alphas aren’t controlling EVERYTHING on that planet-- it would be FAR too much effort to control every little ecological system. or at the very least, the control exerted beyond an alpha’s own species would be very weak compared to the full control they exert over their own-- perhaps they can only implant suggestions or telepathically communicate w/ other species?

though just because the alpha’s community consists of a single species doesn’t mean there can’t be diversity-- social insects like ants and bees are a great example of specialized tasks leading to diverse morphology among a species’ castes

3) the society is actually a TRUE superorganism of systems with a leading “brain”

are there even any separate individuals in this world, or is the “alpha” in fact the ‘brain’, and all other ‘individuals’ are their various limbs and organs? real-life hives/colonies without a “brain” allow for highly-efficient, decentralized coordination among as many as thousands of individuals, so what is the advantage of a ‘single’-organism society setup with a single “brain”?

this is a great route to go if u rly RLY want a multi-species hivemind, b/c u could make the base organism a parasite-- cordyceps fungi, anyone? parasites still tend to be species/clade-specific, but at least this physical conduit makes more sense for a multi-species hivemind

-Mod Spiral

#/outs myself as an abo fan to make a point/ anyways #mod spiral #behavior #alphas #hiveminds

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writing-ro · 5 years

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Fictober 19-4: “I know you didn’t ask for this.”

@fictober-event // Set in a Multi-fandom Fantasy AU where most if not all kinds of fantasy creatures exist alongside humans, though the two cultures stay fairly separate, with many humans being afraid or prejudice against creatures.

Rating: T Fandom: Star Wars, Characters: Ahsoka Tano, Arista Amara (OFC), Oren Revik (OMC), Additional Tags: Magical blood powerups, Mentions of Merrill (Dragon Age), Sequel to Day 3, elf!Ahsoka, dragon!Oren, Oren is a bit of an ass, Ahsoka is a proto-tsundare,

When Ahsoka woke, she saw a tent canopy above her head. One she knew well, after staring at it every night for the last two weeks.

She tried to push herself up, but a soft hand on her chest stopped her. “Slowly,” Arista said. “You’ve been out for a whole day. Here.” She grabbed a bedroll and tucked it behind Ahsoka as she pushed herself into a half sitting position. Arista helped her sip a cup of water, and then about half a bowl of broth before she let Ahsoka push her arm away.

“Merida and Tamlen, are they?...”

“Nearly die and your first question is about others.” Arista shook her head, first fondly, then sadly. “We’ve seen no trace of them. Merrill’s set wards around the mirror, so no one else can touch it. And she tuned it to their possessions, so if they show up, they should be able to get out without any more of those monsters following them.”

Ahsoka nodded. “Good.” She looked down at herself and saw she was in one of her training tunics, and she could see bandages wrapped around her chest through the opening of the collar. She remembered the arrow, and the horde on their heels, and then fire, then black.

“How did we escape?”

Arista’s cheeks actually pinked a little. “First, you have to promise not to aggravate your injury by going after him.”

Ahsoka raised a brow. “Him?” She thought she remembered a man, but it could have been a hallucination, right?

“Promise first.” Arista raised a brow back, and adopted her “I am your healer and you will do what I say” face. Much like her “I really really really want to do this thing please” face, Ahsoka couldn’t go against it.

“Alright, I promise not to aggravate my injury. Who was it.”

Arista took a deep breath. “His name is Oren Revik. He was the dragon who spied on us a few months ago.”

Ahsoka blinked once, twice, then moved to toss the covers off her, only to be pressed back down by Arista.

“No! You just promised you wouldn’t aggravate your injury.”

“I’m not going to. I’ll use my left hand to slap him in the face.”

“Oh really?” a man’s voice sounded from the tent flap and she looked past Arista to see the dragon standing there. He was wearing similar clothes to the night they had met, except his shirt was slightly scorched in some places, which told of the intensity of the flames he had to be in, since dragoncloth was renown for being nearly completely fireproof. “Is that anyway to treat the man who saved your life?”

“It’s the way to treat the man who spied on a private evening with me and my lover,” Ahsoka retorted.

The dragon - Oren - scoffed. “Okay, but did you encounter an arachne pack on the way back to your village?”

Ahsoka’s shoulders slumped slightly. “Yes. It’s still not an excuse for being a pervert.”

Oren shrugged. “What can I say, I was bored, and you were providing such a lovely show.” He came in and knelt by Arista, his wings tucked as close to his back as possible. “Now, let me check your arm.” He reached for it, but Ahsoka snatched it away, biting her tongue to keep a hiss of pain from escaping.

She looked down at it, and found a bandaged wrapped around it. She started to unwrap it, only for Arista’s hands to take over for her. On the underside of her arm was a long scar, from her wrist to halfway up her forearm. She did not recall getting injured there in the battle.

“How did this happen?”

“Well, you see, by the time I got to you-”

“Wait, how did you even know we were here in the first place?” Ahsoka asked. “Our clan hasn’t done trade with the dragons in centuries, and we certainly never contacted you.”

“Again, bored, so I decided to take a flight and see what I could find. Found you guys about five days ago and decided to hang around, see what you find. When I saw seven go in and three come out looking like they ran through a death course, I had to find out what happened. I gave your mages lyria potions and they managed to make a barrier strong enough to keep the ra’zac horde in and-”

“Ra’zac?”

“Merrill found an old reference,” Arista said. “They’re creatures of decay and blight, who were fought by the ancient elves of long ago. But she still can’t find out anything about the mirror. We don’t know if it was meant to trap them, or if they somehow corrupted it or what.”

“As I was saying,” Oren said with a slight drawl that he was getting irritated at the interruptions, “I hit them with firepower and burned all the ones in the room to ashes, then I saw them fleeing down the passageway you opened. I came up on their rear and burned as many as I could, though a lot disappeared down the side passages. When I reached you two, you had passed out in Arista’s arms, and were starting to turn grey. I carried you out and had your healer look you over.” He grimaced.

Arista took over. “Turns out the Ra’zac coat their weapons in their own - not blood, but closest we can determine. It was thinning out your blood so it ran out faster, and then poisoning the rest as passed over. With how hard we were running, it was… bad. Possibly not even Marethari could have healed you and you’d be long dead before we got home to try.”

“The only way to save you was to transfer blood compatible to your own that could burn out the poison.” Oren rolled up his sleeve and showed a similar cut on his own wrist, though the scar was much less obvious. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

Ahsoka stared at the cut. “That can’t have worked. Dragonblood burns out almost everyone who tries to use it, even given freely.”

“Well you seem to fall in that gap between ‘almost’ and ‘everyone’,” Oren said. “It saved your life, and now you get a few little bonuses to go with it.”

Ahsoka clenched her fist. It was the reason a Dragonslayers’ Guild had existed a century ago, before the Dragon King destroyed their Hall and a Kings’ Conclave banned such a guild from forming again. For those few who could survive the ingestion of the blood, they were given special powers, based on the dragon who gave it. An old legend told of an elven sorceress who had been given the blood of the Dragon King and his Consort, and she became the most powerful sorceress in the world, with the ability to command very powerful fire and ice magics at the same time, and in some versions even sprout wings and fly. One version of the tale said she became the leader of a collation of clans and ruled as a Queen for years, until the Dragon King and his Consort asked her to marry them and took her to their mountain home. Another was that she grew corrupt on power, and attempted to subjugate the entire continent, only to lose in battle to the Demon King. The Dragon King and his Consort retrieved her body and took it to be laid to rest in some secret location, so none might try to use her body for evil.

“So what effects am I likely to get?”

“Your body temperature is already starting to rise,” Oren said. “It will settle out in a few weeks to about halfway between your old standard and my own. Basically, you’ll constantly feel like you’re having a fever. On the plus side, you’ll never get those again, you’ll just burn the sickness out. But you’re also now susceptible to dragon sicknesses, though that’s no matter as long as you stay away from the mountains until you built up an immunity. You’ll have an affinity for fire magic now, so we’ll have to work with you on taming it. Advanced healing - well, advanced for your people. You can see in the dark much easier now, and possibly your vision spectrum will shift a bit. Maybe you’ll get physically stronger. That’s all I can think off the top of my head, I’ll write to Parthanax for a full list of possibilities. Of course, it’s gonna take a few weeks for these changes to happen, plenty of time to get me settled.”

“Settled?” Ahsoka’s brow went up again.

“Oh, right, we didn’t say it yet.” Oren grinned. “Since you need a teacher to help you handle your new dragon abilities, I’ll be going back with you.”

Her eyes widened, then narrowed. “No. Absolutely not. I won’t be learning a thing from you.”

“Too late, already sent a message informing the King of my decision, and your mage sent a message to your clan leader last night.”

“Send another saying I refuse you and want another teacher, if I have to learn anything.” Her hands clenched the blankets. “I can get by, I always have.”

“Ahsoka!” Arista spoke for the first time in a while. She unwrapped Ahsoka’s hand from the blankets and and held it in hers. “I know you didn’t ask for this, but this is what happened. And even if Oren didn’t want to teach you, he’d have to. Dragon Law says that the dragon who caused the change has to train their charge for at least a half year before they can hand them off to anyone else.”

“Yup, helps teach us responsibility or something like that,” Oren said, then held up his hands in surrender when she shot her “Healer’s Look” at him.

“So, please, don’t fight this.” She turned back to Ahsoka. “I know it’s not your first choice, but is it really that much of a price to pay?”

Ahsoka rolled it over in her head. Arista was right, Oren did save her and Arista’s lives, putting up with a pompous ass of a dragon would be adequate repayment of the debt.

She shot Oren a glare. “If you spy on us again, I’m running you through, training or no training.”

Oren just smiled. “I’ve survived worse, fledgling.”

#fictober19 #Fictober Fantasy AU #fictober #fandom: star wars #oc: Arista Amara #oc: Oren Revik #char: Ahsoka Tano

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arkus-rhapsode · 5 years

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Fairy Tail 100 Years Quest Chapter 12 Review

Oh my god... What the heck is even going on?

So our cover page is Natsu and Lucy, and Natsu I hope you enjoy that brain freeze.

So we open on Jellal confronting Touka. We learn like how Avatar was devoted to black magic there was a group devoted to white magic. Now this is cool, but literally if you watch the anime recently, that arc was done in 5 episodes. So this feels really odd on how much effort is being put into it.

Like if there was like something tying into Tenrou or hell edolas, that make more sense, given all thee time on it.

So Jellal describes White magic as a philosophy of nothingness, which that doesn’t make sense. Fans of yugioh gx might compare this the darkness and light in that series and how darkness led to creation while light was subjugation. But Black magic is clearly about ending life or manipulating life. I guess you could dumb it down to all life, but literal Ankherseram black magic is portrayed as nothing but death. So wouldn’t white be about life? I guess nothingness as life without personality isn’t wrong, but this feels like a stretch.

Also, Mashima said anyone could learn any type of magic. So why is that an abnormality? Like if this was Black Clover where you are assigned a single affinity that be one thing.

Suddenly Laxus steps in, and want to make this clear. I don’t exactly hate the idea behind this. That Laxus wants to defend someonew ho is a part of his family, given his new found view on FT, and its using the family aspect of FT on its head. Someone bad could be using FT’s family mentality for personal benefit. Which is interesting.

Okay, well Jellal has a reason, she is suspect and as a guild master he has authority to take her in. However, Laxus you of all people know that people in your guild will still harm it.

On the one hand im torn, the shounen loving half of my brain wants to see this fight. But the logical half says that these two are mature adults with enough common sense to take this to the run knights. And confrontation is over after this page.

Yeah for a chapter named after the two, its got very little to do with theem. Instead.... The worst thing in the chapter happens. We cut to Diablos’ ship and we see this.

Yes you are seeing this right. For people who were saying I was to harsh, calling this a submissive Erza fetish that Mashima is putting out, I ask you read this chapter.

You know I can’t tell if Skullion means this is temporary as in terms of magic, or temporary as Kyria will grow bored, but I do know that this is nothing but sick and tastess. Also props to Madmorel for having some class to be disgusted by the perv in the group. Like that is becoming a rarity these days.

We are guided down to the lower deck where natsu and wendy are being held, the motion sickness keeping them in check.

I’ve been putting this off long enough, its time to rant. This is bull shit. People told me, i was too harsh on mashima, but at the least I thought this was some sort of temporary thing that was meant so Kyria could get a win in a fight, but this might be some permanent magic effect feels disgusting.

Now, people say that this happened cause people would rag on Erza, called Erza fights awful, and that now Mashima is going in the complete opposite dirction. You didn’t like strong erza, fine! Here’s weak Erza, you happy cynics?

But that’s not the case. People didn’t like Erza because she was “too strong” she was someoone who went from this amazing badass female character, to this static friendship speech spewing tool that never truly got any development. Its painful for people to see a character like Erza not grow after she had developed so much in ToH, but it just was never followed through. All the times she won just felt like a poor spectacle without any character behind it.

Now you could say an erza who needs to get her strength back could be character development. No. Cutting away a person’s strength with “magic” is not character development, its forced regression. Its the author literally creating an unrealistic situation bcause he has no idea what to do with her after ToH, hell he can’t even fully commit to a love story between her and jellal.

When Erza came onto the scene, she was cool, in control, yet could over react at times. To see her be pushed to her lowest by ToH and then recover and face midnight in OS, is peak Erza character shining through. That this is how erza’s development deserved to be treated. But Watching Erza crawl on the ground, be spanked, and cry for mercy like a hentai doll, all because of plot convince magic is so gross to me. Its ejecting the Erza that we all love and stripping her of all that personality just for this.

So if you blame this development on people who were too hard on Mashima about how he was writing Erza, I, a critic and very judgemental person, find this worse than any of the nakama power or skimpy armors.

Erza being trapped in Kyoka’s sex dungeon was bad, but you know what, EErza actievly resisted it. She didn’t want to be there aand tried to fight back. It wasn’t handled well, but that t least felt like whatt her character would do in this situation. But this was forced upon her and this is nothing more than an Erza made for this arc.

Also, lets step out of this and look at this from the meta perspective that this is also extremely lazy. In Eden’s zero there’s a villain who is all about subjugating women right now, and Mashima couldn’t be bothered to not let that bleeed into his other work. If that doesn’t scream creately lazy, than I don’t know what will. Also that frog thing in Eden’s zero is actuaally better giveen the fact he’s not mind bending away personality, he’s forcibly turning them in statues to do with what he pleases against their will.

Im not saying this cause im anti ecchi or that im anti mashima, im anti such a hack story writting device that weather you stuck it out as a fan of erza’s till the end of FT or liked her at first but than soured on her, I ask, would you tolerate this? I’m not claiming ownership of the character of Erza, but I am asking do you think that this is worth a character arc because our author couldn’t think of anything better to do with her. You know if you knew Erza was so strong,Ad that in actuality she would sweep away most threats, why did you bring her? I honestly would’ve preferred Jellal and Erza being out of the action cause they had a kid or something. Erza having to pick between biological family and her guild family seems like a better direction to take her character in than this.

To see Erza cry because someone’s magic made her into a slave is so lacking in power than say the sheer emotional weight of watching simon die. Like this is shit is just awful.

We cut to Luccy and here is where I get to credit thee art. Sure Lucy is in a bikini, but what matters in frame is the wounds on her legs. Which is a nice us of having aa skimpy dress and not sexualizing it.

We get a flashback of Lucy realizing Kyriaa took her friends and this is where I give Caramille a big fuck you. Oh sure, this did happen after they showed up, but Diabolos clearly was going to find the place eventually and more importantly, you did fuck all. Like, go screw cause you have contributed literally nothing.

We find out that there is another ship in the area and that Gray is okay because he was saved by you can guess who...

Okay on the one hand, this definitely seems like Brandish’s kind of entrance, but on the other. Fuck you, Hiro. Like she just passed by and saved Gray? Hw? The entire ocean was either freezing or evaporating, what is your range? Also, who is in charge of Alverez? Yajeel? Oi...

Post Chapter Follow up: Its easy to say why I don’t like this chapter. I feel so sick by the sheer amount of laziness and disgust in the slave Erza plot. Like, my god this is so wrong. Not because of the subject, human slavery makes sense in a series aimed at teenagers, but the sheer disrespect that Hiro treated this character, made my blood boil. At the very least in Alvarez, Erza still seemed like she was the same character from beginning of the series.

People who follow me weekly on this review series are probably going to ask when I will stop harping on this Erza thing. Well each week, it somehow get worse and more gross. First time it felt like a cheap win, second it was bad use of domination, now this is full blown fetish material.

As for the brandish thing, I know why she is here, Lucy is literally not strong enough to handle 3 DE’s by herself with a few exceeds, and I’d accept that Brandish reentering the series. But maybe leave out Gray? I guess you could say that this is a subversion of the Musica captured by Doryu, but this feels lazier. You could’ve just made this a big “step up Lucy plot,” but no, had to save Gray, even though Skullion should’ve notice when his magic didn’t actually ash up Gray. Plus think about, if they save save Natsu and Wendy this arc and beat these three dragon eaters, wouldn’t some added bit of tension to the quest be finding diablos’s hideout and saving Gray from the “dinner table?”And I was cool with the kidnapped gray thing, but no, we had to have kidnapped everyone else.Also if he was made small how did he survive the water? Like he’s the size of a pin, he’d drown.

Now the stuff with Laxus and Jellal is actually fairly good Its an interesting take on FTs standards vs the consequences of their past when we are suppose to be rooting for Touka to be extracted. And involving two characters that really have been in the moral gray spectrum make them the most qualified for this subject matter. While i definitely didn’t like the Touka plot at first from how disconnected it was from everything (and it really is kinda shoed in on this point) it still is the more interesting plot. It has more intresting ideas than, “more dragons” and is involving the characters that come off as the most interesting.

Final Verdict: 3/10

There is clearly some interesting idea at work here

However, the way the plotline for the dragon portion of this arc has become a mess

I don’t use this phrase lightly, “Erza literally deserves better than this”

Plot convince playhouse at its finest

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dreadhaus-literature · 5 years

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{A/N} Waiting on the Sun to Rise.

Oh how I wish that ol’ sun would rise~♫

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I wrote a bit. {Points down.} It’s nothing special, 2nd POV just ‘cause idk what’s going on with anything again and it feels weird to try and write dedicated pieces when stuff’s off. {Waves a hand in a circle.} Said it before, but this time I’m trying not to let it keep me from writing. Used to use that as an excuse to not write or do anything but I keep saying if I keep that up I’ll literally never do anything and I’m in my 30′s, now.

I’m ready to do stuff. And so I’m gonna do stuff.

I’ve been reading “The Writer’s Process” by Anne Janzer, which was recommended to authors who want to know how to prep for writing seriously, sort of like a “how to get started writing novels” 101 book. It had really good reviews on Amazon and I’m on Chapter Five right now. It’s only about 200 pages long, if that, but it’s honestly really useful. It’s got good tips on balancing work/personal life with trying to write (like you have to actually dedicate time to write, can’t just expect to write a novel on wishful thinking) or how to help stimulate creativity. It includes tidbits and tips from psychologists who have done studies on the best way to tackle creative processes like writing so you can get the most out of your writing; it’s really been a helpful tool. The chapter I’m on right now talks about tackling procrastination, lmao, and how to self-discipline--which I have said is one of my biggest problems. I make excuses, I find reasons to not write, I let myself get distracted, but I’ve been saying all year I’m tired of looking back on the year before and spying all the wasted time and just sighing @ myself.

There’s no excuse other than me being lazy and/or making excuses. The older I get, the less forgiving I get with myself about it.

My 20′s I am now realizing was really not a good time for me to try and get published, I’m sort of allowing myself a pass because now that I’m out of that decade, I realize I was working through a lot of shit. I was still dealing with abuse into my late 20′s and while no one’s life is perfect I recognize that I wasn’t in a good enough headspace to dig deep and write well. My emotions are 97% of my writing and they weren’t right. Now that I’m in a better place in all aspects (still working on the living situation, but got less than a year to go, there) I can shelve the self-reflective work and start trying to make something of this talent and imagination I’ve got.

I don’t really know where this aggressive, “I am going to write.” mojo has come from. I mean I’ve always, always known I wanted to be an author but it was sort of a hobby more than a career. I wasn’t taking it seriously and there’s probably lots of reasons for that--

1. Was dealing with depression and teetering on finding any self-worth enough to try to make something of myself. 2. Been told from a young age that I was not good enough and to give up/not bother trying because I won’t make it. 3. Afraid of failure and the resulting, “I told you so”‘s.

So yeah. I just hid behind fanfiction and sprinkling my OC’s and plotlines through fandom work, which allowed me to express what I wanted to express without fear of failure or putting myself out there. But that’s not enough, at least...I don’t know. I’ll always have a heavy preference for writing for FL and Monica and stuff, but I treat that like...hm. Almost like a treat? It’s a treat for me. To give something of myself to someone I love very much. Her reactions will always be my favorite.

Stepping outside of that, though, fanfiction stopped being enough for me a number of years ago. It was too confining, I had so many ideas and characters and themes and stuff I wanted to put out there that I didn’t want to work in a confined space anymore. Y’know that saying, “Of course you’re uncomfortable and unhappy where you are--you’ve grown, you’ve changed, you are no longer that person. It’s time to move on.”

I feel that.

It was like wearing a pair of shoes that were too small. Yes, I could wear them and get somewhere, but not the distance I needed, and wanted to go. My hopes of being published haven’t gone away. I’m scared to try still, lol, I know my writing’s good, it’s the one thing I know I’m good at, but the way I want to do it is different than the norm. In a way, selfishly, I feel like Christine. She was one of the only people writing paranormal romance when she started, and she’s said how she had to push and push to get her publisher to take a chance on her work, that she knew she had something good and she didn’t give up on it. And now, we have the Carpathians. ♥ I’m somewhat in the same boat with wanting to write 2nd POV. I’m totally capable of making a heroine and giving her a name and backstory but I know what I like to read when I read fanfiction. 2nd POV. It’s more personal, it resonates, and tbh it helped me through some really difficult parts of my life. I want to return that to my readers. To give them that personal immersion that 2nd POV provides. But those aren’t the books that are published.

I’m getting ahead of myself. I don’t have a novel finished or anything, lmao. I just, it’s one of my fears. That I’ll write this novel in 2nd POV and not be able to get it published...but I suppose I should cross the first part of that particular problem before anything else. Can’t fret about being published if there ain’t shit TO publish, DOT.

I’ve got a few novel ideas. Milano hasn’t gone away, lol. He still lurks about, like he’s just waiting for me to get my ass in gear and actually write his book properly.

...I really did sort of just use Yu Yu Hakusho to sort of write my own practice novel of Milano’s, lmao, if I’m being honest. I mean I did also want to go the hipster route and write for Yusuke because he was so under-loved in the community and I wouldn’t be me if I wasn’t subjugating favoritism but truthfully I wanted to let Milano loose. I was proud of him, proud of the story and world I’d created around him, and I needed an outlet for it and was too young to know what to do with what I had. Was fucking 18 years old, fresh out of high school, and in way over my head honestly. Now that I’m matured, older, and my ADHD isn’t kicking my brain around like a pinball machine, I think I can do him proper justice.

So yes, Milano, I will still be writing your novel. Just uh, don’t ask me when. Baby steps.

I also have Bram’s story that I wrote 20 some odd pages of outline and prep work on, that I fully intended to novelize. And I still think I have something there, so hold onto your obsession, Bram. You’re up on the board, too.

The most recent idea I had was for a series of novels, called Help Wanted. It actually started from the most recent story I wrote for Monica, where she delivered those specialized herbs to Milano. I essentially work in a service industry and it got me thinking about how I like to take care of people, that you don’t typically see that in romance novels. Usually the heroine is the one being taken care of and while I won’t object to that, I also like to do the taking care of. And it’s not an itch I get to scratch a lot, when I read. So I have been tossing around this series of novels where the heroine of each book is a caregiver of some sorts, taking care of the love interest in some way, shape, or form.

For example, the idea I came up with today was for a human nanny (the reader) who gets hired by a vampire to take care of his child after his wife was staked/murdered. The vampire is hopeless as a father and needs all the help he can get, and his child needs a proper caregiver. The nanny comes highly recommended and to make matters worse, when shown a list of potential caregivers the child picks her out of all the other candidates. The vampire is wary of allowing a human in his home but he’s rewarded when his little one flourishes under the love and attention the new nanny brings. Can the vampire come to trust and love one of the very same who killed his late wife?

Another idea I had was for a bubbly housekeeper/caregiver who comes to care for a depressed zombie/undead. The undead can barely take care of themselves and the caregiver was hired by a Wellness Committee, who keep tabs on supernaturals (think like child or elder protective services). The undead wants nothing to do with life but can’t die--but maybe, just maybe, with a little bit of TLC from their caregiver they can learn to live again. Happily, with the one who truly saved their soul.

Obviously don’t judge me too harshly, I’m literally like two days into this idea, lmao. It’s rough around the edges, like super rough, but it’s something that speaks to me. It’d be sort of like the Carpathians as in like, a shared universe, with all sorts of different love interests per novel--it’d be paranormal so there’d be monsters and demons and ghosts, weres and mers and just--maybe even superheroes! Or that could be a spin-off series or just--

See it’s just a lot and it’s all brand new and I’m still working all this out.

BUT! What’s exciting to me is that I have ideas, still. I still want to write, I’m still living in this creative, imaginary headspace and I’m still wanting to share that world. I think I’ll just always be this person, and that’s not a complaint. I’m glad. Imaginary places got me through my childhood and tbh it’s what’s getting me through this hectic shit we call adulthood.

I’ve been saying, all year, that I’m going to keep going and I’ll probably keep saying it. I’m still working a lot of stuff out, still figuring out my writing process and I need to get back to writing every day (I did it for the first three months of the year so I know I can do it) so that when the time comes for me to sit down and write for Milano, for Bram, for Help Wanted--

That I’ll still be ready to go. 💕

#{A/N} : commentary #{A/N} : ideas

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sugarless-suki-writes · 5 years

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Big God

Fandom: Inuyasha Rating: M Word Count: 2,794 Chapters: 2 of ?

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Chapter Two

Kagome was somewhat surprised with how well behaved Kouga was. Every time she had checked up on him in the night, he had woken up, but he was always calm. She was used to patients being at least a little bit grumbly, not that she blamed them; they needed rest to recover and the constant interruptions from both her and the nurses in the hospital were probably annoying. It was now 12:30 in the afternoon and she was looking Kouga over once more. She was shocked to see how quickly his wound was healing, though she really shouldn’t be, he was a youkai after all… For a human, a wound like that would need to keep the stitches in for at least a week and a half. For Kouga though, he could probably get them taken out two days from now.

“Well, you certainly weren’t kidding about your healing abilities.” she said, putting new dressings on his wound.

“I told ya I’d be fine.” he replied.

“Nevertheless, it’s my job. And I’m sure it wouldn’t be healing this well if it weren’t for me.” she said, shooting him a sly grin.

“Oh please, I’ve had worse than this and healed just fine without a doctor.”

Kagome rolled her eyes and decided to drop it. She finished off the dressings by taping down the gauze and then pulled away to stand and stretch a little. “I’ll feed you some lunch and then you can be on your way. Come back in two days and I’ll check out your wound and remove the stitches if it’s ready.” she said.

He nodded and then settled back into the couch, pulling the blanket back over himself. She smiled softly to herself and turned to go into the kitchen. She knew that youkai didn’t need to sleep as much as humans, adding the fact he was part of the yakuza on top of that, she had a feeling he didn’t sleep much anyway. This was probably some much needed rest he was getting. Sucks that he had to get stabbed in order for him to get it though.

She let out a small sigh and went over to her fridge and opened it. She frowned at seeing how barren it was inside. She forgot for a moment that it’s been a while since she’s gotten groceries…. There had been no point, as today was her first day off in about two weeks. They usually didn’t run their doctors this ragged, but she was the only miko on staff available. Kikyo was off on her honeymoon and Kaede just started her residency. There weren’t many mikos going into medicine anymore for this exact reason; they were overworked. She closed the door with a frustrated huff and rubbed her eyes. Kagome stood there for a couple moments, head in her hands, unmoving.

“You alright in there?” Kouga’s voice brought her back to reality and her head snapped up. She turned around and saw he was looking at her, a hint of concern in his face.

“Yeah. I just… don’t have any groceries. I’ll go get some. Stay put, alright? If you’re not here when I get back, then I’ll be calling.. someone.” She tried to tease, she really did, but she was tired and frustrated, and it carried into her voice there at the end. Kouga frowned and watched her as she gathered her things. He could smell her frustration, the scent of burning wood slowly covering up her natural scent of wildflowers and spring rain. He felt this urge to help her, or comfort her somehow, but he couldn’t move.. and even if he did, he wasn’t sure how he would go about doing such a thing in the first place. So, he just laid there and watched as she left the living area and made her way to the entrance. He listened as she slipped on her shoes, opened and closed the door, locked it, and she was gone.

He let out a sigh and settled into the couch, staring up at the ceiling. He knew he gave her shit for helping him, but he knew deep down that she was right; he wouldn’t be healing this well if it weren’t for her, even with the coming moon. Though he had to laugh at how surprised she was when she saw how well he was healing after she stitched him up. If it weren’t for the stitches, it probably would’ve taken him close to a week to recover. But now, it seems like he’d be healed in time for the full moon.

His eyelids grew heavier then, and he let out a yawn. Maybe he could do with some more rest… it had been a while since he slept like this. Sure, he was woken up at 2-hour intervals, but it was some much needed rest nonetheless. With that, he adjusted himself accordingly, getting all comfortable before slowly drifting off to sleep.

-BG-

Kouga was woken up harshly by the sound of pounding on the front door. Once his brain finally registered that someone was trying to break in, it was too late, as he heard the door burst open and come off its hinges. He prepared to get up and attack the intruder, when he heard them call out.

“Boss! We tracked your scent, we’re here to help!”

Kouga brought a hand up to his face and rubbed his eyes. “Ginta, Hakkaku, get your asses in here.” he snarled.

His two betas rounded the corner, looking a bit sheepish and confused. “What’s wrong boss? We’re here to save you..” Ginta whispered.

“Yeah, we all got worried when you didn’t come home last night. We found the blood in the alley and followed your scent here.” Hakkaku added.

“Well, the problem here is-” a shriek cut Kouga off and caught all three wolves off guard. Next thing they knew, there was a flash of pink and Ginta and Hakkaku were on the floor across the room. Kouga opened his eyes and saw Kagome, groceries in one hand and the other stretched out, pink lights sparking from her fingertips. “Kagome!” She didn’t respond. While she had a stern look on her face, he could see the panic in her eyes.

Ginta and Hakkaku got up off the floor, but before they could fully recover, Kagome snapped her fingers, more pink sparks flying off her fingertips at the action, and suddenly there were pink beads around their wrists. Subjugation beads?

“Sit.” Her voice was stern, smooth, even, no trace of fear in its depths. Ginta and Hakkaku were pulled back to the floor, landing on their asses, faces scrunched up in pain as the beads made of pure reiki burned into their wrists. It wasn’t enough to purify them, but it was enough to hurt and do what Kagome needed them to do. “What are you doing in my house?”

Ginta grunted and opened his eyes, glaring at her. “What are you doing with our boss?” he fired back. Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Kagome, let them go. They’re with me.” She turned to look at him, and his betas followed suit, all three looking at him in a mix of shock and confusion. He sighed and ran a hand down his face. “Kagome found me in the alley and patched me up. That’s Ginta and Hakkaku, my two betas.”

Realization dawned on Kagome’s features and she flushed in embarrassment. She quickly dispelled the beads and set the groceries down nearby. “I-I’m so sorry! Here, if you’re hurt too bad I can help..” she said, a frown on her face.

She approached them cautiously, like wounded animals, and it made Kouga smile. Ginta and Hakkaku just stared at her, eyes wide in shock. “N-No we’re fine..” Hakkaku said. She pulled her lower lip between her teeth, but nodded and backed away.

“Well... I was going to make food before releasing Kouga.. but I don’t know if I have enough for all of us..” she mumbled, looking back at the groceries she had.

“That’s alright, we don’t need any food.” Hakkaku said, giving her a meek smile.

“O-oh.. okay. Umm.. well...”

“We’re sorry about the door. We’ll go fix it for you!” It was Ginta this time.

“Oh! Um, thank you.” She smiles warmly at them then and they beamed back at her. The two wolves then scrambled to get up and get to work. Kouga chuckled.

Kagome walked back over to the groceries and picked them up. She then made her way over to the kitchen and started pulling ingredients out. He watched her from his spot on the couch, a too wide smile still on his face. She moved about the kitchen slowly, methodically. She pulled down the things she needed and started heating up a small wok. The sound of her chopping vegetables was smooth, rhythmic, and a stark contrast to the sounds he could hear coming from the entrance of the apartment. Ginta and Hakkaku were grunting as they moved the door back to its proper spot. He had no idea how they were going to reattach it, but they better find a way, or else.

He returned his full attention back to Kagome. He felt this.. pull towards her, and he couldn’t place what it was. It was a bit frustrating in all honesty. He didn’t like not knowing things, especially when his beast was so agitated. He was usually in tune with the beast, but it seems that whatever had it in a tizzy was lost on him. It wasn’t sharing with him, for whatever reason. He did his best to shrug it off, content to watch the miko move about the small kitchen.

She seemed at ease in the kitchen, working methodically and almost unthinkingly. It was effortless. Before too long, she was adding her ingredients to the wok and a wonderfully delicious smell filled the small apartment. As he watched her work, he figured out what she was making; yakisoba. He hadn’t had any in a long while, and he was eager to taste her cooking. Thankfully, he didn’t have to wait long. She soon finished cooking and pulled down a couple bowls. He watched her divide the yakisoba between the two bowls and grab two pairs of chopsticks. Kagome then picked up the bowls and made her way over to the couch. She set one bowl down on the table and handed the other to Kouga.

“I know it’s probably not the healthiest, but it’s better than what they would offer you in the hospital.” she said with a giggle.

Kouga simply reached for the bowl, stars in his eyes. A smile crept its way onto his face and he chuckled along with her. “I don’t really care if it’s healthy or not. I’m sure it’s delicious.”

She sat down on the floor near him, laughing. “I can’t guarantee anything. I haven’t cooked in a while thanks to all my shifts at the hospital.”

“I don’t think you have to worry. Anyone who moves as effortlessly as you do in the kitchen is always going to be a great cook, no matter how long they’ve gone without making food.”

Kagome looked up at him, quirking an eyebrow and trying to contain her smile. She was failing. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to hit on me.”

Is that what he was doing? He hadn’t even realized... Before he could really think about it, his mouth opened on its own accord and spoke for him. “Maybe I am.” He had to resist a growl. Damned wolf.... is this what it was keeping from him?

Kagome blushed slightly but played it off the best she could. “Why? So you don’t have to pay your bill?”

“You’re charging me?”

She simply shrugged and Kouga couldn’t help but chuckle. He brought some of the yakisoba up to his mouth and ate his first bite of it. He was correct; it was delicious. They ate their food in relative silence, listening as Hakkaku and Ginta struggled with the door. Kagome started to giggle again, and he eyed her curiously.

“Your payment is fixing my door.” she said, a humorous grin on her face.

He returned her smile with a smirk. “I can do ya one better.” She raised an eyebrow at this and he leaned forward slightly, being mindful of his stitches. “I owe ya a favor.”

Kagome’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion, and Kouga leaned back and continued to eat as he waited for his meaning to sink in. It took her a couple seconds, and then her eyes widened. The yakuza would owe her a favor.

“Th-the door is enough, really. Promise.”

“Nah... you saved my life. That’s worth more than a door.”

Her lips thinned into a tight line. She really didn’t know what to say. She could try to continue to argue, but she knew it was pointless. It seemed like he had made up his mind, and she had a feeling that there would be no changing it, no matter what she did or said. But maybe.... “Are you sure there’s nothing I can do to convince you otherwise?” she asked, some semblance of hope in her voice.

He pretended to think on it for a moment before looking at her with a lopsided grin. “Nope. I owe ya one, Kagome.”

She frowned, but there was a blush on her face. She turned away then to eat more of her food. He chuckled and ate his food as well. It wasn’t long before they were both finished and Ginta and Hakkaku were done with the door. Kagome was standing in the kitchen, washing the dishes that were used as the two betas made their way back into the living area.

They glanced over at their alpha, who was watching the miko intently. Ginta grinned and jabbed Hakkaku in the ribs, who did his best not to growl at the action. Ginta turned to his friend with a wicked grin on his face and Hakkaku snorted, breaking Kouga’s gaze and causing the alpha to glare at them. They both quickly looked away, staring at the walls, ceiling, and floor; anywhere except Kouga’s face. They couldn’t help but stare. Whether Kouga realized it or not, he was watching the miko like a lovesick pup; it had been a long time since they’d seen their alpha like this. It was nice to see him happy...

Kagome soon stepped out of the kitchen and approached the trio, stopping just in front of them and placing her hands on her hips. “Alright. You’re free to go. Just make sure to keep the wound clean, change the dressing if it starts to bleed through, and come back in two days and I’ll check on your stitches.” Somewhere in the back of her mind, she still couldn’t believe she was recommending two days for stitch removal. Youkai never failed to amaze her.

Kouga grinned at her. “Will do. And thanks again. I owe ya.”

Kagome’s face flushed and she looked away. Gods.... “Yeah yeah, alright. Get out of here. And try not to break my door this time.” she said, looking over at Ginta and Hakkaku. They looked away from her, guilty, but she had a smile on her face and did her best to conceal her laughter.

The two betas helped Kouga off the couch and made their way to the door. Just as they were about to leave, Kagome stopped them. “Hold on just a moment.” She then scurried off and the three were left somewhat confused. It wasn’t long before she came back, a shirt and Kouga’s leather jacket in her arms. He had forgotten he wasn’t wearing a shirt...

“Oh, uh, thanks.”

It took some maneuvering, a couple of bumps from elbows, but soon the alpha was dressed and ready to leave once more. With that, the door to her apartment was open and the three youkai were leaving. She waved and watched them go. Once they were out of her sight, she closed and locked the door.

She then proceeded to lose her fucking shit.

Her hands shot up into her hair, knotting and tangling the black wavy locks as she slammed her back against the door. “Gods.. the fucking yakuza.. in my fucking house...” Even as the words left her lips, they didn’t sound real. It just.... She couldn’t wrap her mind around it. Not only had she found a beaten-up member of the yakuza in some back alley on her way home from work, but she brought him into her home and patched him up like she would any other patient.

And now they owed her a favor.

#inuyasha #inuyasha fic #koukag #kougome #kougkag #kogkag #chapter fic

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giftofshewbread · 3 years

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Satan’s Final Solution from the Beginning

By Joe Southerland Published on: February 9, 2021

“And the LORD said unto Satan, Behold, all that he hath is in thy power; only upon himself put not forth thine hand. So Satan went forth from the presence of the LORD” (Job 1:12).

“He that committeth sin is of the devil; for the devil sinneth from the beginning. For this purpose the Son of God was manifested, that he might destroy the works of the devil” (1st John 3:8).

We are witnessing the trailing strands of Satan’s long, dark, corrupting thread that runs throughout the entire Bible. Before our eyes, Satan’s long-sought-after goal of obtaining complete global domination over Mankind is once again within his grasp.

It has been a long, wide path of destruction Satan has blazed for himself and his minions to entrap Mankind in his tempting snares. But now, he is primed to finish what he conceived in his vile heart ages ago in the Garden of Eden — the complete spiritual defilement and domination of Mankind.

Satan’s Opening Act

In Genesis 3:15, after Satan’s first rebellious deceptions were vomited forth to Eve, God prophesied Satan and his minions would perpetually war with Eve’s seed, Jesus Christ, and those who called upon His name. Though this judgment was damning, Satan in his arrogant pride would claim victory, for He had succeeded in separating future generations of Adam from God, as they were now all born spiritually dead. But his dark work in Eden was only Satan’s beginning act.

In Revelation 12:4, we see Satan, pictured as a dragon, as he starts his four-millennium-long pursuit of the woman (Israel/those in faith relationship with God), as he attempted to devour her child Jesus Christ even before he was born. The Bible provides us a wealth of historic details on Satan’s strategies to separate Mankind eternally from God.

Satan’s Pre-flood Global Spiritual Corruption nearly succeeds…

In Genesis 4:8, though not specifically mentioned, Satan’s handiwork is on display as he destroys the first two sons of Eve – Cain spiritually and Able physically. As in Job 1:6-12, God, for His greater purposes, had removed His hedge of protection and allowed Satan and Cain to perform their will. While God would ensure Mankind’s survival by blessing Eve with Seth, Satan would try to destroy them physically and/or spiritually by keeping them from calling upon the name of the Lord (Genesis 4:26). And he nearly succeeded, for God appears to have given Satan nearly free reign up until Noah and his family are sealed into the Ark.

By Genesis 6:7 of the pre-flood era, Satan’s cancerous corruptions had spiritually blackened almost all of Mankind upon the face of the earth. Left to his own will and without the intervention of God, Mankind had descended into the self-centered spiritual decay outlined by the Apostle Paul in Romans 1:18-32. Satan rejoiced, for disastrously rebellious, pre-flood Mankind was deemed beyond redemption by God who sentenced them to the first death – as their bodies were washed away in the cleansing waters of the flood. Only Noah’s family of eight was hedged by God and saved.

Satan’s Post-flood Global Destruction attempt…

In Genesis 11, Satan tried to repeat his previous diabolical success by raising the first recorded global god-king, Nimrod, in order to again destroy what remained of Mankind, Noah’s rapidly expanding offspring. As a foreshadowing of things to come throughout history, Satan would empower a thoroughly corrupted man in willful open rebellion against God to do his evil bidding.

Nimrod, Satan’s first prototype of the Antichrist, through wars of conquest, had subjugated all Mankind and, in doing so, created the first known One-World Government (OWG) and One-World Religion (OWR). God would have none of it and directly intervened, or Satan’s wicked plan would have worked to perfection. God abruptly thwarted the Father of Lies and miraculously confounded the tongues of all Noah’s 70 grandsons, formed them into separate nations, and then scattered them upon the face of the earth.

Though Satan would use his god-king template to spiritually corrupt and deceive entire nations throughout history. Even though he is a powerful being, Satan has his limitations; for unlike God, he is neither omniscient, omnipotent, nor omnipresent.

God Aborts Satan’s Plan and Hedges His Power Upon the Earth…

God scattered the nations, knowing full well that Satan’s power is finite and that by decentralizing the governance amidst multiple nations, Satan’s influence and power would be dramatically weakened. God knows that the potential for great evil comes with consolidation of too much power in the hands of a few people, who could fall under the controlling and corrupting influence of Satan as he temptingly appeals to peoples’ self-centered, sin natures.

Therefore, to maximize and enforce his will and deceptions upon the world, Satan must concentrate his power upon spiritually wicked rulers in high places of power and in principalities. It was Lord Acton, the British historian, who said, “All power tends to corrupt; absolute power corrupts absolutely.” The reason this quote rings so true is that it speaks directly to the fallen sin-nature that resides within each and every member of Mankind. Satan knows absolute power corrupts people, and ultimately his power over Mankind thrives upon that fact.

Satan Focuses His Attacks upon Israel and the Seed of Eve…

Hamstrung by God since the Tower of Babel, Satan’s strategy switched from taking global dominion outright to a two-pronged approach: 1) destroy the seed of Eve, which would come via the line of Shem (the Semites), Heber (the Hebrews) to Abraham (the Jews), and 2) corrupt the masses of humanity by spreading false religions which appealed to the sin-nature within Mankind.

In short, Satan succeeded in corrupting/destroying the Lineage of King David and corrupting the nations of Israel/Judah to the point that God allowed the destruction of the Jewish nations, temple, and capital of Jerusalem. But Satan failed, for Israel “brought forth a man child, who was to rule all nations with a rod of iron: and her child was caught up unto God, and to his throne” (Revelation 12:5).

Thwarted by the Messiah, Satan retrenches for the Church Age

Satan was enraged by the unforeseen events of the Messiah defeating death and then birthing the Church, but he was not defeated, and he retrenched. During the unfolding Church Age, Satan adds three new objectives to his plan: 1) destroy, attack and internally corrupt the churches, 2) destroy, attack and corrupt the remnant of Israel, and 3) set the stage for the Antichrist’s End-Time rule. Additionally, Satan still maintained his successful corrupting attacks upon the masses of humanity through raising and spreading false religions and spiritually compromising the rulers of the nations.

However, Satan was frustrated; despite all his evil success, his limited power was insufficient to control all Mankind dispersed over the entire earth. But given time, that would all change.

God Advances Technology – Satan’s Span increases

For his greater purposes, God has allowed the advance of technology in the waning centuries of the Church Age as He oversaw the gradual accumulation of man’s knowledge of the underpinning laws upon which he created our world and our universe*. The Lord’s pleasure was to shape discovery and invention in order to set the perfect technological conditions to maximize the Lord God’s coming harvests for His kingdom.

Satan, ever the opportunist, has always embraced and leveraged technology to expand his influence and power amongst Mankind. His corrupting lies were at first limited to face-to-face and word-of-mouth contacts, and then he gradually expanded his deceptions through the written and then printed word.

Now, armed with global communications, mass media and social media, with little effort, Satan can place his lies and deceptions into the hands and before the eyes of nearly every soul on the planet. But Satan wants much more than that. Satan’s pride swells, for now, due to technology, he can once again consolidate and concentrate his power in his desire to control and defile all Mankind. And according to Scripture, he will attempt to do just that.

Satan’s Final Solution – Totalitarian Global Control

No longer limited geographically due to telecommunications, Satan can now enforce tight-fisted control over his children of disobedience to secure his global political and spiritual ambitions. Today, his globalist minions and crop of billionaire business elites are working with and within the nations and global governance bodies to form the underpinning structures required for the next phase of his plan.

Satan’s grand strategy, first conceived in Babel, can now be vigorously relaunched with a new global god-king, the new Nimrod, Caesar, and Fuhrer. Known by many names — Son of Perdition, the Beast, the Antichrist — he will be installed and then enthroned by Satan to rule over the entire earth to align all of Mankind to his wicked will. We know from Revelation Chapter 17 that Satan’s Antichrist will cease power and control the world through ten evil kings/rulers who have sworn their complete allegiance to their master.

The ensuing seven-year reign of the Antichrist will be the most horrific, brutal and bloody period of terror the world has ever seen, leading to the persecution, pursuit, enslavement, starvation and slaughter of hundreds of millions, if not billions. In the final three-and-one-half years of his demonic rule, the Beast will proclaim himself god and demand all nations, tribes and tongues worship him as God, or face death.

According to Jesus Christ, this will be a time worse than any other in history. But Satan will not prevail.

The Lion of Judah Triumphs

At Tribulation’s end, all of Satan’s brilliant schemes will ultimately prove to be failures as the KING of KINGs and LORD of LORDs triumphantly returns and, with the utterance of His voice, destroys the Antichrist and his godless, satanic worshippers. Satan of Revelation Chapter 12, “the great dragon, that old serpent, called the Devil, which deceiveth the whole world” will, at the direction of the Lamb of God, be bound with a great chain and cast into a bottomless pit for a thousand years.

Come out of her, my people

Already, the Prince of the Power of the Air and his children are taking control of the data being transmitted into our lives as they work towards his final act of rebellion against God. Do not be ensnared in Satan’s deceptive utopian promises, nor his false religions, nor become tangled in the materialistic weeds of this fleeting world.

Drawn near to Jesus Christ, and he will draw near to you even though he has never been far from you. Get right with God. Get into His Word. Spread the Gospel.

May our mighty God bless and strengthen you! Maranatha!

( Churches/Preachers have done a terrible job of helping the Believers to Understand Mankind’s Greatest Enemy, Satan. Time is Short now, Great Evil is Rising and Soon Satan will have full Control over the Whole World, No Man will survive what’s coming unless Mankind Chooses JESUS as Lord & Savior, Born Again, Be Saved, and unless GOD Steps in before it’s too late, all Mankind will Perish, Satan’s ultimate goal, he HATES All of US & his Total Agenda is to Destroy/Murder us all and take to Hell ! KNOW OUR ENEMY Satan !!! ) Leho

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scriberat · 6 years

Text

Happy Magi New Year!

I was given @gio-zzz as my secret giftee, and wrote them a fan fiction based around Kougyoku and the Kou Empire! It’s almost 4,000 words (more than I originally intended before giving a realistic estimate) so I’ve put it under the cut.

Flower Crowns

Kougyoku wandered through the palace, Ka Koubun at her side. Ever since returning from Sindria, her older brother, Koumei, had been asking her questions about the country and its King.

I should’ve known that his support of me going to marry Sinbad was to bring Sindra into the Empire. Her hairloops drooped at the thought. Worse than her brother angling her like a pawn was Hakuryuu’s refusal to answer any questions or help out at all meant that Kougyoku was the only person who could say anything satisfactory.

“Princess, what’s the matter?” Koubun asked.

“My older brothers are planning out how they’re going to attack Sindria, even though I don’t want them to. Even Kouha is interested in it. He said he was all for an attack after they take Magnostadt.”

“Cheer up, Princess. I’m sure everything will be alright,” Koubun said, though he wasn’t sure how it could be alright. Kougyoku was about to lose her first love to her brothers’ conquest of the entire world --- though Lord Kouen would probably keep Sinbad alive, for one reason or another. Then, Ka Koubun saw the palace gardens, and more specifically, flowers.

Flowers with long stems that help with making flower crowns.

“Uh, Princess! You learned how to make flower crowns in Sindria, right? Why don’t you show me how to make them? From what I’ve heard and seen, you’re very good at it,” he said, hoping that his plan would work. At this moment, distracting the princess was what he needed to do. Making her happy was imperative. So, despite not really being interested in flower crowns, or learning the art of making one, Koubun maneuvered Kougyoku toward the gardens, getting his key to power out of her funk.

“Hm? Sure,” Kougyoku said. The two of them walked along the garden path, Kougyoku selecting flowers carefully from bushes, testing their stems for springiness and length. Once she had enough, she sat down on the grass and handed half of them to Koubun.

“Alright, you need to take two flowers, and twist them like this, then add another, and twist some more… yeah, just like that!” she said happily. Koubun breathed a sigh of relief.

“I’m glad this is making you feel better, Princess Kougyoku,” he said. Kougyoku smiled.

His first flower crown didn’t come out so great, but Koubun refused to be bested by some measly flowers. He made a second crown, correcting the mistakes from the first one. Kougyoku, meanwhile, decided to make some crowns for her brothers. Kouen’s was made of red, yellow, and orange flowers, like the fire of his djinn, and the fire he lit in the hearts of his people. He really is an amazing leader, Kougyoku thought. She wove wine-red roses together, making sure their leaves poked out, and set it down for Koumei. He was a fairly bland person, and not very attractive, so she made sure she found beautiful flowers for him. Since Kouha was around, preparing for a diplomatic mission to Magnostadt, she made him a crown, too. It was made from white flowers, with little pink ones woven in between.

Kougyoku smiled at her handiwork, then looked at the flower crown Ka Koubun made. His was made of soft yellows and pinks alternating with each other.

“Here, Princess. This one is for you,” he said, holding the crown out to her. She bowed her head instead, and Koubun placed the crown atop her head.

“Kougyoku! En-nii-san just arrived,” Kouha called, coming out to the garden. “Where are you?”

This was perfect timing. Kougyoku smiled widely, picking up the flower crown she had made for him. She rose from where she had been sitting. Koubun moved quickly to grab the other two flower crowns.

“That’s good to hear. It’s been quite awhile since I’ve seen him. Here,” Kougyoku said, holding the flower crown out so Kouha could look at it. “I made this for you.” With an appraising eye, Kouha examined the crown, then he smiled.

“It’s good craftsmanship. Put it on for me?”

“Of course!” Kouha removed his hat, fluffing his hair when he did so, and handed it to Junjun. Kougyoku had a brief moment of pride when she remembered which of Kouha’s trio was which. Kouha bowed his head slightly, and Kougyoku placed the crown on his head.

“It’s perfect!” she cried, clapping her hands together. It worked well with his outfit. Kouha smiled, then turned to his attendants.

“What do you think?” he asked them.

“It looks amazing,” said Junjun.

“Magnificent!” Jinjin clapped.

“I want a flower crown, too,” Rinrin said.

“I’ll see if I can get flower crowns for all three of you,” Kouha said, preempting Junjun’s chastising of Rinrin’s whiny selfishness. The three of them cheered as Kouha turned to Kougyoku with a questioning look.

“I can teach you how to make them,” she said.

“That’s a good idea. It’ll be a better gift for your service if I make it myself. Right, we’d better get going to En-nii-san and Mei-nii-san.” The group headed toward Kouen’s personal study, where Kouha said their brothers were waiting. Kougyoku held their flower crowns, one in each hand, as carefully as possible. Neither was crushed in transit.

At least her princess training had taught her how to handle delicate objects.

Kouen’s study was directly attached to his bedroom, though it had its own door to the hallway outside, so a servant --- or a pair of siblings --- could come in without invading his privacy more than necessary. It was spacious, to say the least. The walls were completely covered by bookshelves, and the bookshelves were sagging a bit under the sheer number of scrolls and bound books they supported. At the center of the room was a large map of the entire world. In front of that was a desk, which had papers and scrolls strewn across it. Sitting in a chair behind it was Kouen. Standing next to him was Koumei, eyes open. At least he was awake… maybe.

Or maybe he had learned how to sleep with his eyes open, now? No, that wasn’t happening. He was talking with Kouen, chatting idly. Kougyoku suddenly felt very nervous. She was so young and inexperienced next to them, so utterly out of her element in comparison. She wasn’t even sure how to approach them, let alone give them the flower crowns she had managed not to forget.

“I found Kougyoku. She was out in the garden, making us some flower crowns,” Kouha said, pointing to his own. Kougyoku thanked him silently, walking toward the desk and holding the flower crowns up at the same time. Koumei raised an eyebrow, as did Kouen.

Despite being utterly intimidating, to the point that there was more than one instance where Kougyoku had merely nodded to him in the hall because her voice crapped out on her, Kouen smiled at the flower crown. He bowed his head, inviting its placement. Kougyoku gestured for Ka Koubun, handing Koumei’s to him so she could crown Kouen unimpeded. It looked good on his head, even if it was totally clashing with the rest of his outfit.

She doubted there were enough colors in the universe to match with the disaster he wore regularly.

Koumei proved to be more of a challenge. Kougyoku had to grab his ponytail --- so greasy --- and thread it through the crown first before it would set right on his head. Once it was on, she admired how the deep red matched with his dark magenta hair and eyes.

“This is too beautiful for me,” he muttered.

“Nonsense! You just need to take better care of yourself,” Kougyoku said. She didn’t dare touch his face. At all.

“Kougyoku,” Kouen said, capturing her attention immediately and bringing her back to the conversation having to do with her that they were about to have.

“Yes, brother?” She was motioned to sit, and did so promptly. Kouen smiled that wicked wolf smile he got when things were about to get interesting for the Empire in a good way.

It was better than the smile he had for “challenges,” as he called them.

“We’ve decided that you should take a position in the army.” That was a shock.

“R-really? What would I be doing?”

“You’ll be acting as General in the Western Subjugation Army,” Koumei said, his pretty flower crown barely piercing his constant gloom. “As we’ll be moving troops from the other armies to this one, in order to maintain the manpower necessary to conquer a new continent, we need more generals. You are one of them, but, since you’re new and have little experience, your contingency will be small, and essentially a reserve.”

“Don’t feel as though you’ll have nothing to do, however,” Kouen said. “Men fall all the time, and we’ll need fresh waves to keep the enemy from succeeding. You will be leading the charge later in the battle, bringing in the reserves to combat the tired enemy.”

“I see,” Kougyoku said, uncertain that she would be able to lead well. After all, this particular job required good timing. She had to be able to read the battle well enough to know when to charge in, didn’t she?

“You also don’t need to worry about when to move. That will be left to Kouen, or else another higher ranking officer. Your job is to lead the troops into battle, rally their morale, and charge the enemy with all the force you can muster,” Koumei said.

“It’s really not so hard. You’ll get used to it, soon,” Kouha said, patting Kougyoku on the back.

“We have confidence in you, Kougyoku. If we didn’t, we wouldn’t be promoting you like this,” Kouen said. Kougyoku grinned with glee, then controlled her face and nodded.

“I promise, I won’t let you down.”

Ka Koubun smiled as they left the room behind her brothers. Sure, he could do things to lift her mood, but his powers were limited. Her siblings, particularly Kouen, had a special relationship with her. Their presence and words were always helpful to her sour moods.

Kouen entered the war room, striding confidently to his usual place at the head of the table. Present before him were other generals of the Western Subjugation Army, who had returned with him for some well-deserved rest before shipping off again.

They were staring.

Looks of confusion and glances between themselves tipped Kouen off to something distracting them. He tried to figure out what it could be, as he, Koumei, Kouha, and now Kougyoku, took their places at the table before them. Kougyoku sat nervously next to Kouha on Kouen’s left side. Koumei was seated on his right, looking rather bored. With the stalwart refusal that had gotten Kouen this far, he started the meeting.

“Generals of the Western Subjugation Army, this,” he gestured to Kougyoku, who tried her best to look regal and menacing at the same time like her brother, “is the Eighth Princess Kougyoku. She will be serving as a general from this day forth. I expect that you will respect her as an equal and teach her well.” All of the generals present nodded, less distracted now that Koun was directly commanding their attention.

Then it struck him.

The flower crown was still on his head. Their flower crowns were still on all of their heads. He shrugged mentally. Too late to change this now.

“How can we be sure she will lead well? She may be a part of the Ren family, but she’s hardly more than a child. Can she handle so many men?” one general asked.

“I am certain she will do exceptionally well. She, too, is a Dungeon Capturer, and a King’s Candidate. Leading people is a natural-born talent for her,” Kouen said.

“More than that, she showed both restraint and resilience during the Balbadd uprising. The new opening we were given as a result allowed us to bring Balbadd into the Empire without needing to depose their King,” Koumei added. Had Kougyoku not known him as well as she did, she would have missed the brief flash of disgust that flitted across his face. Or maybe she was just projecting her own feelings toward… that King.

Shuffling and muttering went around the table amidst muttering, griping, and further questions. Finally, however, one of the generals raised his hand.

“Speak,” Kouen said. The table went silent.

“I will put my trust in you, Princess Kougyoku. And, if I may be so bold as to pose a question, Lord Kouen...”

“Yes?”

“What is on your head?” Kougyoku had been in the room when her sisters were on the verge of a fight, but she had never felt tension fill a room so quickly.

“This is a flower crown. Kougyoku made them for us,” Kouen said, waving his hand at the flower crowns on the Ren siblings’ heads.

“I… I see. Well, if she can lead an army half as well as she can make a crown, I think we’ll be in good hands,” the general said. Kougyoku liked him. The tension left the room, and with the support of the other generals, the meeting was adjourned.

There is a question that some of the palace servants ask, which is when does Koumei sleep? There is a different question which those who know him ask instead: when doesn’t he sleep?

Chu’un could swear he’d once seen the Second Prince nod off in a war meeting, but he couldn’t be sure. Koumei had kept up with the conversation, somehow. Now, he was watching over his master, who was definitely asleep this time, to make sure no one disturbed him, at least until sunset. He hadn’t slept for the past forty-eight hours, after all.

Marveling at the rose crown on his head, Chu’un stooped down, abandoning his watch temporarily to stroke a flower petal, and then a crown. It was rare for anyone to get this close to the Second Prince when he was asleep. He was a light sleeper, unless he let his guard down.

Someone was coming along toward the two of them, in a dusty corner of the palace’s first library. Chu’un strode to the entrance of the corner, of which there was only one --- Koumei had had this section reorganized a long time ago for the express purpose of having his own space. As the intruder came by, he shook his head at their entrance to this place, and they hurried along.

It surprised him that Koumei could be so comfortable with the roses on his head. In Chu’un’s experience, roses had pointy thorns. How were they not digging in? Upon closer examination, Chu’un could see that they had been removed. He nodded. It was a smart move, and one he could appreciate. He made a mental note to thank Kougyoku later for making the crown safe to wear.

Later that night, as Koumei wandered the palace in search of… something… the flower crown was largely forgotten. Some daughter of a noble or other walked past, and smiled at him.

“You have a lovely headpiece on tonight, Koumei. Tell me, have you decided to wear this for a particular reason?” she asked, swinging her body from side to side like she was innocent or something. Koumei stopped to look at her, a bit confused that she was addressing him at all. He had barely even noticed she was there.

“No, there’s no particular reason.”

“So… you don’t have anyone you’re meeting with?” Oh, wait. She was flirting, wasn’t she?

No, thanks.

“I do, actually. I’m meeting with a representative of a King from a recently added country. We’re going to be discussing my marriage to his daughter,” Koumei lied. Thank the gods for his years of practice.

“Oh,” the woman said, visibly deflating. “Well, I hope it goes well.”

“I hope so, as well.” Koumei hurried off, trying to figure out what it was he had been feeling the need for before she confused him. Maybe he was hungry. When was the last time he ate?

He went to the kitchen, keeping the smile off his face. That was the first time in years a woman had approached him without hiding their disgust at his general appearance.

It was a fine day for a stroll through town, thought Kouen, walking leisurely along and looking at everyone bustling about their lives. There were women who were getting food for that night’s dinner with the money they and their husbands had earned. Children were playing merrily in the streets. Men were bringing crates and boxes from the transport center to the places they needed to go.

Altogether, it was an excellent day, and one which would be talked about for some time, as it was the day that the Crown Prince Kouen came strolling along wearing a flower crown. Many people stopped and stared for some time. For the second time since having it on his head, Kouen forgot that he was wearing a flower crown at all and kept walking, assuming the staring was because the royals always traveled by palanquin or horse, instead of by foot.

His household vessels followed dutifully behind, Shou En the dragon carrying a sack of gold, and not one of them sure why they were in town, or where they were even going. Kouen had simply said he was going out, and they had come along. Through the streets they went, the answer becoming more and more clear as they reached the artisan district. Seishuu stared at the flower crown on Kouen’s head, wondering what his plans were, but knowing that they probably had to do with the gift his dear little sister had made for him.

Sure enough, they made it to a jeweler who was known for making finely crafted items. While jewelry was a secondary need in society, it was necessary to keep the cash flow moving. People liked shiny things, and the women in this place tended to like shiny jewelry.

“Excuse me, sir,” Kouen said, entering the shop. Seishuu could see that the shopkeeper was, in fact, a woman. He stifled a laugh as she got indignant from where they couldn’t see, and bent down to mention her gender so Kouen could correct himself.

“Ah, forgive me, Madam. I didn’t see you properly,” Kouen said, as she came around the corner. She looked him up and down, raised an eyebrow at the flower crown, which Kouen promptly removed. “I was wondering if you would be willing to gild the edges in gold.”

“Gold? Do you think I have enough for all of these petals?” she asked, taking the flower crown in hand. It was bigger than the usual crown, with three layers piled on top of each other. While each was predominantly red, orange, or yellow in ascending order, there were flowers that were interspersed between each to make it come alive with vibrancy. She nodded at the handiwork.

“I do.” He gestured for Shou En to bring the gold in, and showed it to the shopkeeper.

“That’ll be enough. I’ll get to work on this right away, after we discuss cost, of course.” Kouen pulled out a few wads of cash, handing them over to be counted.

“This will be more than enough.” The shopkeeper nodded. Between provision of materials, and the fact that there was over a hundred thousand Fan in her hand, she couldn’t help but agree. Seishuu said nothing, but he was questioning the relative sanity of his master.

He wouldn’t be saying anything about that, either.

With the flower crown safely with the jeweler, and set to be completed quickly, Kouen and his Household members left the shop and went back to the palace.

“Was it really worth that much?” Seishuu asked, once they were back in the walls.

“Of course. That’s the first gift Kougyoku has ever made me. It’s important that I keep it safe and sound.”

It was later in the evening, and Kouha was walking home from the gardens. Well, home was a relative phrase for the place he was going. Anywhere in the palace was home, but there was only one place that was really home home for him: his and his mother’s wing.

In his hands, Kouha held a flower crown in his hand. While his own had started to wilt, this one was perfectly fresh, a good inverse of his own, mostly pink with little white flowers peeking out between each one.

He approached his mother’s room, knocking on the door.

“Mother? May I come in?” There was some shuffling on the other side, then the door opened a bit. Kouha knew the invitation for what it was, and walked inside. Even if his father never visited, he did often enough to know his mother’s mannerisms, strange as they might seem from the outside. It came with growing up with them during his younger years.

Inside was a mess. There were clothes everywhere, the bed was unmade, and, assuming the desk had managed to stay inside the room this time, half the furniture was stacked against the door’s wall.

So his mother was keeping people out again. Kouha nodded, then looked at the woman, and smiled lovingly. She was still beautiful, after all she’d been through.

“Hey, mom? Can we take a bath together?” He was still her parent, sometimes. Other times, thanks to his own insistence in being himself, she saw him as Kouha, her little boy. Rarely, in those moments, she saw him as someone who could take care of himself.

“Of course, Little Ha. Come on, let’s go take a bath.” They went to the bath room, where his mother drew the water herself. She preferred to do things herself, refusing to let others help her, or take control. Kouha set the flower crown on fresh clothes he grabbed from her wardrobe, gathering the rest of the clothing that was flung about and setting them in a basket outside the door. He could make the bed later for her.

Once the bath was ready, they hopped in, and washed each other, like they had for years. Kouha had always wanted to be more of a help to his mom, and, despite her protesting that she should be caring for him, Kouha had eventually won because he wasn’t a little kid anymore (at age ten.)

With his mother clean for the first time since her most recent anti-social spell --- at least, that was what he was figuring --- Kouha dressed himself in clean clothes, helped her with her waist sash, and presented the flower crown, putting his own on his head.

“Here, mom. I made this for you.” She grinned.

“Put it on, put it on, put it on!” Kouha obliged, getting the crown onto her head, then laughed as she danced around the room.

“I’m a queen! I’m a queen, I’m a queen!”

She was happy.

That night, as Kougyoku went to sleep, she hoped her brothers liked their crowns.

#magi new year exchange #gio-zzz #magi labyrinth of magic #kou empire #kougyoku #kouen #koumei #kouha #ka koubun

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wintcrskiss · 6 years

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Some meta on how Myriam feels about the Starks?

meta requests || accepting || @wildwclf

Oooh this is a goodie.

So, for the majority of her life, Myriam has held the Starks in high regard. She’s lived in the shadow of Winterfell, born and raised there actually, and they’ve been a constant presence in her life. She has always seen Ned as a good lord, an intimidating yet compassionate man. Her mother told her of how the Starks made sure everyone in Winter Town had enough food and kept warm during difficult times, and Myriam (who often felt like she wasn’t being looked after enough for various reasons) enjoyed the idea of having someone, some overruling presence, watching out for her.

As for the children, she’s just a little bit older than Robb and Jon, so she can vaguely remember Sansa being a small child, but clearly remembers when Arya was born. Of course, she never had anything to do with them until much later on. She saw the boys mostly, when heading out of the castle and through Winter Town when headed on a hunt or other manly stuff with Ned. But she always felt some kind of connection with them all. When she was young, she often daydreamed about bumping into the boys or Sansa by accident and becoming firm friends and then the Starks taking her in like they had with Theon (for she wasn’t completely sure of who Theon was or why he was there or that he was a noble until she was older).

Most of us know (unless ur a new follower or have been living under a rock) that she had a bit of a from a distance crush on Jon. It’s a difficult one to explain given that she has next to no contact with him ever when she’s in her teens, but she feels there are similarities between them. They are both looked down on because of certain aspects of their parentage, sort of outcasts, etc. She feels he is the one she has the most chance of speaking to and that interests her. She’s pretty heartbroken when he goes to the Wall. I can’t talk much more about Jon for now because it all differs from portrayal to portrayal. My Jons and I all have different stories for these two and that’s something I love and respect so I can’t go into all of them!

So yes, her feelings towards the Starks were mostly positive for the majority of her life. I think the point where the tide begins to turn is with Theon’s invasion of Winterfell. To Myriam, the Starks have all but abandoned them (although she does understand why) to be looked after by old men and little boys, and it takes so long for help to come after Theon arrives. Obviously, things just keep getting worse and worse and she becomes more and more disillusioned with not only the Starks, but the nobility in general. They are fighting wars for themselves, in her opinion, with little to no thought about the lives they are wasting - a large proportion of which come from her own “class” of people. Boys she grew up with and knew in Winter Town dying for the quarrels of men and women who cared very little about them.

She does feel sorry for the Starks, though, and is particularly enraged about the events of the Red Wedding.

Now, skip forward (and into show canon). Myriam would be happy enough for Jon to come back and kick Ramsay out and be declared King. He is the closest the Starks have to a “common” person, and she believes this can only be a good thing. He’s more in touch with the reality of things, and appears to be focused on things far more important than politics. All in all for Myriam, the Starks are back on track, doing good things, and being decent people.

Now, we obviously don’t know yet how the people of the North are going to react to Jon having bent the knee to a certain blonde but I can tell you for one that another certain blonde wouldn’t be happy about it. Myriam is not a historian or a diplomat or anything of the sort but she knows the stories of Roberts Rebellion and the rumour mill has been working away, we can assume. If news of what happened in the Westerlands hadn’t already reached Winterfell in some way, it would do shortly after Jon’s return, and you can be sure as hell that that won’t warm Myriam to this new guest. Again, that whole decision of subjugating an entire region of Westeros to a foreign queen who doesn’t know them (because lbr, the Targaryens knew jack shit about the north even when they ruled the place, Daenerys hasn’t been there ever - not her fault, but it won’t help her case as to why Jon should have bent the knee) will just bring back memories of the nobility operating above the smallfolk’s heads without any consideration of how they might feel or how this might affect them etc. Jon is not perfect by any means, of course he isn’t, but Dany’s reputation precedes her, especially in Westeros. Sure, among certain people they would be hailing her return but others, they would be telling stories of this queen who conquered people, burned the Tarlys alive, has terrible dragons who kill livestock and children (none of the good stuff). Myriam will be sure as heck at the start of season 8 that she doesn’t want this woman being in charge of her or the North and she’d be mad as heck at Jon bringing her to Winterfell and having sworn fealty to her. (I stress this is like show canon Myrie. This obviously differs from story to story I have with various blogs here).

As for the others at this point, she is pretty proud of Sansa, seeing all she has overcome and how well she is doing. Myriam would be so pleased to see the other babs returning as well. She’ll love seeing how much Bran and Arya have grown, and especially seeing how Arya is her own woman.

So basically, Myriam’s feelings towards the Starks started off well, but she’s became more and more disillusioned, with a closeted wish to support them because she does feel an affinity with them - but she just doesn’t like the way things are panning out with the concept of nobility in general, but with the Starks as a specific example.

#wildwclf #ɪ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴍʏ ᴏᴡɴ ᴍɪɴᴅ || (musings)#ᴅᴀʀᴋ ᴡɪɴɢs ᴅᴀʀᴋ ᴡᴏʀᴅs || (answered)#( // thank u so much! this was so fun to write )

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mannapolis · 5 years

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15 January 2019