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flower-of-knighthood · 3 months

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Bruh, Dimitri is only king because of his Crest, that's literally a case of crests being abused and creating conflict or did you miss Miklan and Sylvain's arcs entirely.

What about Sylvain's misogyny? What about Ingrid's lack of personal autonomy due to being the literal breeding cattle of her family, fed before her siblings.

Yes Hanneman and his story come from Adrestia, but that same shit absolutely happens in Faerghus, we just don't see people like Hanneman or Manuela come from Faerghus because they're fucking idiots with the near sole exception of Annette. Mercedes is Adrestian and a victim of crest abuse, absolutely, but it's not like her current adoptive family isn't sending her to Garreg Mach to find a husband because she has a crest!

Crests inherently create a privilege within their societies, and this happens in EACH country. Just because some of the most privileged people in the entire game don't have a clear cut abuse narrative doesn't mean you're getting the full picture of the actual situation. AND beyond that, crest related discrimination affects the women in the game disproportionately to the men. Which house has exclusively crested women? Which house has LESS women than any other house?

So, and follow me here because I know this is probably pretty difficult, how do you imagine life is for women without crests in Faerghus when we don't get to see them?

Leonie, let's use her. The Alliance has some of the most empowered non-noble people due to their strong merchant class. Who is still crestless and poor as dirt going to the one place in the entire continent that could give her the best education in return for a lifelong debt? Leonie! Woo. Ignatz too is also fascinated with the art and library of Garreg Mach. Why? Because someone banned the printing press to keep the commoners dumb! (That would be Rhea of the Church of Seiros, btw.)

So, rampant sexism, homophobia, a king who even in his best scenario can ONLY marry women who have a crest. Hmmm. Yeah. Look. Idk.

Do you think maybe Adrestia seems worse because the people from Adrestia are actually CRITIQUING their home country? Edelgard, Hubert, Dorothea, and Hanneman are ALL very anti-crest and anti-noble. We hear their stories BECAUSE they are stories of abuse that they wish to prevent from happening. Dorothea extends that same empathy to Bernadetta and Ingrid.

Meanwhile on the flipside, it's pretty much just Sylvain who is like "this shit is fucked and no one is talking about it." Perhaps because they have a culture that doesn't reject is as harshly as the questioning nobility of Adrestia, such as Hanneman who is also attempting to remove the power differential created by crests. Because his sister experienced what was most likely repeated marital rape to produce an heir. Hate to tell you what's in store for Ingrid, Mercedes, and Marianne if basically anything goes wrong. Whoop. There's another one. Marianne. Another candidate for the King to marry and simultaneously another character with a father so determined to get her to marry. Wow! It's almost like the game heavily features the need for women to get married so that can be bred by men purely for the sake of having crest babies and we're literally given an example of what that's like by three major characters in the game. Hanneman, Dorothea, and... Sylvain!

Because guess what Miklan's story is literally still just abuse founded on crests and Edelgard is genuinely sympathetic to what happened to him in game.

Miklan was raised for several years expected to inherit his family's territories then his mother died and his father remarried and this new kid came along and stripped him of all his birth rights specifically due to having a crest. His abilities as a powerful leader meant nothing in the face of his bother's crest. His entire life was stolen from him.

This doesn't justify what he did next, but it does highlight the importance that Faerghus places on crests. Had Miklan been someone like, idk, Dorothea, a first daughter instead of a first son, she probably would have been wed into a powerful crested family to be as Sylvain implies, a cumdump for crest babies. Because let's not forget! Crests are extremely important to the Kingdom (that's canon) and they're becoming rarer. So. How does a Kingdom keep the strong crest lines alive? The corpses of abused and tossed away women of course!

This generation just got lucky with how many of them were crested from the start without much work on behalf of their parents. But it's so dire they swapped crowned princes for it.

Is it really so hard to understand that the Blue Lions only has 3 women in it because the Kingdom is just that sexist? That the most powerful woman in Faerghus is an extremely powerful MAGE who is reliant on sex appeal to maintain her position? Not physical combat, unlike, idk characters like Ladislava or Judith? Catherine barely counts but is still crested and part of the CoS as one of Rhea's pets that she has a life debt over. She literally excels OUTSIDE of the Kingdom.

No the Blue Lions have a mage, a mage, and a woman betraying her family to be there as a knight. And one of the mages isn't an heir, and the other one isn't from the country to begin with. And they're all privileged.

While we're on the subject of classmates, say what you will about Edelgard at least her prisoner from a vassal state isn't codependent. Petra perceives Edelgard as going off the path and is free to side against her. Dedue sees that and decides to jump off the cliff with the insane man who can't do math. And literally desecrate a woman's corpse, but you know. Faerghus probably just ran out of respect women juice during the war due to rations or something.

I mean, then there's the whole disability thing with the "unempathetic" Edelgard.

Okay, so the Black Eagles feature disability with Lindhardt, Bernadetta, Edelgard, Jeritza and Lysithea. Yes, Lysithea counts as she joins of her own volition.

Edelgard creates a new form of employment for researchers who struggle with ADHD and ASD for Lindhardt. She is the literal most effective as helping Bernadetta in overcoming her issues with severe anxiety (something Dimitri goes out of his way to belittle her for having during his paralogue, women, amirite?) Edelgard manages Jeritza's DID as best she can by limiting its impact and trying to structure it productively and also providing pathways to atonement that aren't just punishment. She does what she can to lighten Lysithea's load, but also attempt to ease her loneliness at being the only one affected by her affliction. She manages her own issues with PTSD and likely ASD is you pay literally any attention to how she speaks or makes jokes, which is likely why she's so good at communicating with Byleth. And if we want to go further, and I do. She and Hubert were the first friends that Petra made in Fodlan, and while learning a second language isn't a disability, Edelgard consistently offers her assistance to Petra in her adjustment to Fodlan's way of life and expectations. She approached Caspar with the assumption that he would be disheartened like Miklan about the situation regarding nobility birth order only to find that he was one of those bootstrapping people who didn't care and would just work harder (the kind of person Dimitri criticises Edelgard for assuming everyone is,) which surprises Edelgard because she never thought she would meet someone like that, expecting that everyone needs help and support in order to reach their full potential. Because Edelgard never assumes anyone is born fully capable or strong vs weak.

Which just so happens to be mirrored in Marianne's dialogue regarding Edelgard and how she wishes to be strong like her and change the world.

Jeez, it's almost like the very idea that someone is either born strong or not born with the ability to be strong is literally undone by the failed endings of each character and how they're all supported by Byleth and each individually MADE strong by her ongoing support. Each and every character literally goes through the exact arc Edelgard preaches about when given the correct levels of support and opportunity that she and Byleth provide. Even Dimitri. It's incredible. Fucking hilarious too. That's called a ludonarrative, where the gameplay matches the storyline.

The idea that Edelgard somehow isn't obscenely empathetic when that literally her every interaction with every character she can interact with as a house leader, including those who's perspectives she initially disagrees with (Manuela for example) is just brain-dead.

Here, I'll help. Rhea isn't empathetic. Why? She started a war. Because that's how those two things relate right? No, obviously fucking not.

And the whole Knights of Seiros are helpful actually is just, oh my god. Say Blue Lives Matter. Do it. I dare you.

The Knights of Seiros are useful because they're a standing army within every nation on the continent because Rhea has no respect for the individual sovereignty of ANY of the nations. Not to mention that Faerghus didn't even revolt for their own reasons it was manipulation by the Slithers, so they're hardly staking their country's pride as individuals when the impetus for doing so was corrupt to begin with. Rhea was going to conquer it all when Sothis came back anyway. That's why it's so xenophobic.

Or did we forget that. That Fodlan is xenophobic? That Rhea actively tries to keep cultural influences from other countries out so she can maintain Fodlan as it is, her mother's kingdom.

But yeah, sure. Edelgard who doesn't force those from other countries to fight for her cause, such as Brigid, is so lacking in empathy. So blind to the corruption despite her literal every interaction with her classmates and supports.

"But her actions as the Flame Emperor!"

Oh yeah? Which ones? Because the last thing she did as Flame Emperor was target the casket of Seiros. Everything else was the Slithers going over her head. Not to mention that she was really only enabling the ideas that Lonato and the Western Church already had to conflict the Central Church, she didn't create those for them, they already thought that Rhea was disrespecting the saints, we see that with Christophe. Someone Rhea had killed and then lied about it. Then she massacred the remaining Western Church people, for. Something. I'll be honest, I forget why Seteth went to the coast and killed people practicing their regional sect of their faith?

The Knights of Seiros help people. It's kind of funny. Because they don't have a country of origin, which means they're taking militant forces to be controlled by an external form of government FROM their countries of origins, but only specifically those who are the best and can afford to be there. Which, diminishes the abilities of the other countries, say, like the Kingdom with the absence of Catherine. Which creates a need to call on the Church to deal with these supposed threats.

Like everything in the game and that is related to the church is a self fulfilling cycle. Nobles are made noble by crests, crests are significant because of the church, other religions would diminish the power of the church, the church backs the nobles, so the Seiros faith is taught to everyone so the church stays in power and all the people know how just the nobility is.

Such ethics. I believe the word is indoctrination.

Oh, and since the Kingdom only exists because the church says it does, they have no choice but to back each and every play the church makes, so despite the fact Edelgard only declares war on the Church, the Kingdom, flexing their autonomy, joins the fight to back their sugar mommy. Based on a decision that wasn't theirs to begin with. Sovereignty is fun.

So yeah. The war was for the people who are being abused and tricked into compliance with the only governing body who is providing them with any help even if that helps just reinforces the oppression. Like Catherine and Shamir's conversation. Or the NPCs in Abyss express. Rhea's little pet foreigners that she can make grateful because she isn't lynching THESE ones. They're the exceptions.

It's for the women like Dorothea who couldn't get into Garreg Mach from Faerghus even if they tried. Seriously, Dorothea and Leonie DO NOT have a counterpart in the Lions. Ashe comes close but he was legitimately adopted and a guy. The other women in the Lions are marriage fodder or literally privileged prodigies. And none of them have severe criticisms for their living situation because defiance of their country is akin to defiance of their goddess blessed king who they need to either lie down and get fucked by if they're crested or die for in battle.

But no, I'm sure liberating the straightest most emotionally repressed, and least disability friendly country from the clutches of the church who removed their ability to practice medicine, develop literacy through the accessibility of books, and use their natural resources of oil, had absolutely nothing to do with Edelgard's plans. Because she says something about uniting Fodlan (which since her plan is to undo the Church that validates Faerghus' existence in the first place means that she would be fucking them over and creating a power vacuum if she didn't install a new system of government), a few times as her party line, and is completely independent from all other facets of her character. Heaven forbid anyone takes into account what the game is saying through her supports and actions instead of the nationalist war leader she is forced to play under the scrutiny of Those Who Slither. Or did you assume they added Kronya to the Black Eagles just for fun and NOT to isolate Edelgard from the people who she was supporting and being supported by in turn?

It's honestly like people are trying to misrepresent her, which makes sense for those who support a nation of sexism, ablism and homophobia. It truly is a wonder why disabled, lesbian women from outside of America love her so much and ship her with FByleth, while all the guys and yaoi fangirls go coocoo for the forbidden romance guy who is so centrist and impotent it hurts. I can't think of a better example of defying the status quo and making a change within a single lifetime to better the situation of those around us, vs someone who is so afraid of conflict that they'd prefer to avoid it at the cost of real human lives and then take all the credit when some woman comes along, gets 95% of the way, dies and has her crusade coopted by that centrist who makes minimal and less impactful changes in the long run but still gets heralded as a hero.

I understand the inability to conceive that someone in Edelgard's position might stand up for a non-selfish reason, but that's what happens to minority groups who are backed against a wall and have no options but to lay themselves on the line and hope they can fix it for everyone else. Believe me. I've experienced it personally and have put my employment and education on the line so I can achieve effective change for people like me who can't risk losing those opportunities to affect things.

But for fucking real, she destroys the Slithers, her lineage and abdicates. She wasn't doing it for fucking power and everyone she removes from power, The Slithers, The Church, and Rhea are removed in every single other route too or under new management. (that idk if you've noticed, but religious institutions that persist as major players in government decision making tend to love restricting human rights, especially those of women! That's just a thing that's true in our world.)

If you enjoy any of the endings that also don't respect sovereignty, Rhea's leadership (which she admits was corrupt), or include the existence of the Slithers, then how in the fuck can anyone say she was wrong? Everyone mimics what she was doing. It's all built off of her war. That PROSPERITY is only happening NOW because she started a WAR and effectively killed everyone she wanted removed from power. She fucking always succeeds and Fodlan is ALWAYS better for it.

The game genuinely says that the ends justified the means, every time. Fodlan is always better for the war. That's why Sothis says it's "time to begin" by the way. That's why it's inevitable. That's why you can't go back and prevent the war in any route. Because the game isn't anti-war.

You are always rewarded through acts of war in Three Houses. It's not diplomacy. It's acts of violence and war. The game has a theme of mercy, but it agrees that conflict is a necessity for progress. It depicts the tragedy that progress requires, but at no point does it say it wasn't inevitable. I mentioned ludonarrative earlier, the idea the game says "war bad" but then rewards you with happiness and glory through acts of war is literally what ludonarrative dissonance is about.

The game is about causes, justice and necessity. And that's why no one can point to an ending where Fodlan's future didn't require the war. Sylvain's success with Sreng and removing the crest/nobility system would never have worked with Rhea in charge.

Crests and church bad. Fodlan's sexism and homophobia and ablism bad.

Stop not listening to what Edelgard says and does. She genuinely cares about helping people. If she wanted power, why does she abdicate? Why empower the people? Why leave the church's faith alive? Why educate the people. Why do everything Rhea doesn't?

If you wish for a actual response to your essay, learn how to structure your arguments properly, and most of all stop randomly jumping from topic to topic. If a topic doesn't fit in the scope of your arguments, put said topic in another essay that is more fitting.

If you continue the way you are with how you structure your essays, no one will bother to actually read them, instead just giving your essay a brief look before giving a funny response making fun of your efforts.

#edelgard discourse #edelgard critical #ask

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alatismeni-theitsa · 10 months

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What really sucks is how, while many Greek Jews have been here for literally centuries, and even for the ones that came later on, still, our traditions are so heavily linked with the standard Greek traditions (Purim which is our Apokries, has been transferred for a long time, two weeks earlier and is celebrated during the Christian Apokries instead of the standard)and it sucks that people still claim that "jews are not truly Greeks" and how we don't belong here. Sadly I have been hearing that rhetoric even more lately to the point that I don't mention that I'm Jewish to people I don't know well, in case they are weirdos. And the way that the government is going (far right with the Spartans and everything) I don't see the situation getting better soon.

What's your opinion on this theitsa;

Hello! :) First of all, thank you for entrusting me with your thoughts! It means a lot!

It irks me when I hear "they don't belong here" about people who have been citizens of this country for a very long time! (it irks me regardless, but whatever) What the fuck "belong" even means?? And who the fuck decides that?? They are here, they are citizens, they are part of the Greek history, the end! Even more so if these people speak Greek, they have Greek education, they live the Greek reality every day, they fight for the same things as the rest of the Greeks, and so on.

It sucks that this country makes you feel like you have to hide, or explain yourself in case they learn you are Jewish. This shouldn't have to happen! And, to be fair, no one is 100% "pure" Greek (I hate the concept of purity but I mention it here for argument's sake). We all have at least ONE ancestor of Slavic (/Arvanite), German, Turk, Egyptian, Hebrew, Armenian, Persian etc descent. We don't live in a bubble! Markos Botsaris (+ his crew) and Laskarina Bouboulina were Arvanites!

For this reason, I think "How Greek" one is, shouldn't define how much respect they get as Greek citizens. We are all enclosed in the same borders under a common government and we will achieve shit if we give in to infighting about who is The Best.

At the same time, I don't mean to diminish your argument about Jewish Greeks having Greek cultural elements. It makes sense that Jews in Norway and Jews in Greece won't have the exact same culture, and that they will be affected by the culture around them. I imagine it's hurtful when this part of your identity is overlooked. I'm just saying that all people here are "allowed" to be here, since our law has allowed it.

I wish I could tell you "don't be afraid! go forth and be yourself!" but realistically you will be the judge of what's safer for you. At least from my perspective, most Greeks won't have an issue. They might be very interested, even. But one or two times there will be Greeks who will create an issue for you. And these bigoted Greeks might be even more than we think.

The "funny" thing about far-right parties like the Spartans is that, while they claim to be "for Greece", they seem to parrot USAmerican rhetoric (non-Greek rhetoric) which goes against how the locals historically viewed the Jews in Greece.

Correct me if I am wrong, anon, but I feel like the rise of antisemitism in our days is very connected to the US-Americanization of Greece? This type of antisemitism (the type of conspiracies) and the intensity is the exact same I see from people in the US who worry when Jews are in positions of power.

Now, it's a historical truth that certain Greeks worked with the Nazis for power, at the time Greece was under Nazi/Axis occupation. (The Greeks still hate these families that were Germanophille at the time, because these families also worked against the interests of the rest of Greeks) So antisemitic sentiments existed before. But the land of what is now Greece was under the Ottoman Empire for centuries and the Ottoman Empire was a haven for Jews who were heavily discriminated against and killed in West Europe.

Many Jews acquired power and influence in big Greek cities like Thessaloniki, owning factories, businesses, newspapers, and real estate. They were allowed to prosper and they were an important part of our societies. (The Byzantine Museum of Thessaloniki has an exhibition this year about the Thessalonian Jewish community. It's outside and left of the cafeteria, they have a new room)

At the same time, obviously, being Jewish didn't make you automatically rich and influential. Before the second world war, there were Greeks and Turks, and French who were very rich and influential, too. Traditionally the Greeks understood this was a Class thing, not an Ethnicity thing. (And, in any case, no people deserve a freaking genocide!!!) But my point is, in the Old Times I didn't see sentiments such as "oooo the Jews are here to control us!!" whereas I feel this is a big part of the Greek antisemitic rhetoric today.

The reason I think this sentiment is brought by the US is that in the US there are many Jewish communities and many have acquired wealth or they had generational wealth. But in Greece there as soooo few Jews and they don't hold the same amount of wealth. Like, the bigoted conspiracies of the far right don't even make sense in the Greek reality 😂

For those who don't know: Despite the efforts of Greek Jews to escape the holocaust and the efforts of many Greeks to help them escape in the Επαρχία (rest of the country, outside of Athens), like in Zakynthos, an extremely large number of Jews in Greece got killed by the Axis powers in the Second World War. Hence, the large Jewish population of Greece has dwindled, and the community is really small nowadays. The community (at least in Thessaloniki) is also cautious to open their culture to other Greeks because they fear antisemitic sentiments might hurt them again. (Which is understandable to me. Btw I heard this cause a friend writing her thesis needed access to the Hebrew records in Thessaloniki)

Sorry for the long response, anon! My thoughts were many, as you can see. I would be very happy if you could tell us more things about Greek Jewish culture, if you don't mind! (how it's similar or dissimilar to the more frequent version of Greek culture) I could not find many things online, or even in museums, about it and I am genuinely curious.

Feel free to correct me on historical stuff, if you have different info! I am sure we would all be better for learning it because so much culture and historical perspective was lost from the collective average Greek consciousness with the holocaust. I hate that this gap gave rise to the rhetoric of far-right parties. I would also like to be more equipped to speak against their antisemitism by knowing more facts.

I also wonder if it's any awkward celebrating Hanukkah as a Greek Jew? 😅 I think it's not awkward (because the Greek Seleucid Empire was a looong time ago), but I am really curious if the Greek Jews think some way about it.

#greek jewish #romaniote #<- anon might not identify with this but I'd like someone to also find this post while looking for Jews in Greece #so it's just for convenience purposes #answered

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hookedonapirate · 1 year

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Lady Cassidy's Lover

Summary: 1919 England, Emma Cassidy, wife of a baronet, finds herself trapped in a loveless marriage after the war leaves her husband, Neal, paralyzed from the waist down and unable to produce an heir.

Despite the obstacles, she sticks by her husband's side at Goldby Hall, his family's estate, but when she meets former army lieutenant and Neal's aloof gamekeeper, Killian Jones, she feels curiously drawn to his distant blue eyes and quiet demeanor.

At first, she seeks him out for reprieve from her soulless, mundane existence at Goldby Hall, but what starts out as purely physical quickly turns into more than either of them expects.

But Emma is a baronetess, wife of an aristocrat and Killian is a working class servant. Their love affair is frowned upon, and she risks losing her title, her wealth and her position in the world by being with him. But she is determined to get her happy ending with the man she loves. Even if it means losing everything else in the process.

A/N: Thank you everyone for all the lovely comments and feedback and for following along! There will 1 more chapter after this and possibly an epilogue.

Thank you Ultraluckycatnd for being an amazing beta reader!

Based on Lady Chatterley's Lover for @captainswanmoviemarathon

Hope you all enjoy!

Catch up: Ch 1 I Ch 2 I Ch 3 I Ch 4 I Ch 5 I Ch 6 I Ch 7 I Ch 8 I Ch 9 I Ch 10 I Ch 11 I Ch 12 I Epilogue

Chapter Eleven

The sisters check into a hotel on Pall Mall when they get to London and enjoy afternoon tea next to a fountain in the lounge. The table is set with a damask tablecloth, white bone china crockery, silver cutlery and delicate napkins.

They eat sandwiches and cakes and sip tea while they discuss their trip to Venice, listening to a pianist playing soft music at the grand piano. It’s only been a handful of hours since she left Killian, but she already misses him terribly. She tries not to let that affect their day, however. She is away from Goldby, away from Neal, spending time with her sister, and will soon see her father. So she should be happy about that. She is happy about that.

After paying the bill and leaving the lounge, their father shows up at the hotel and takes them to the opera. Truthfully, Emma has missed spending time with them and is reminded of her youth when they lived here in London. Though she wishes their mother could be here with them. Sir Leopold had remarried a few years ago to a woman named Regina, who is currently back at home where they live in Scotland. When he can spend time with his daughters, Sir Leopold cherishes the holidays he occasionally spends away from her.

Emma and Mary Margaret sleep at the hotel that night while their father stays at his club nearby, and the sisters wait for him in the lobby the next morning. Emma feels miserable today, partly because of how nauseous she is from being pregnant. The sweet scent of the flower arrangement adorning the table behind the couch they’re sitting on helps a little. Mostly, her sour mood is due to how resentful she is that Killian can’t be here with them. She wishes she didn’t have to make up some elaborate story about having an affair in Venice. She wishes she could just get a divorce from Neal and be together with Killian without having to worry about the consequences.

She hates being apart from him. One would think she'd be used to leaving Killian since she always had to be back at Goldby after spending time with him, but that has probably made leaving him for three weeks even more painful.

“For heaven’s sake, Emma! We’ll be in Venice tomorrow. Do you have to look so unhappy?

Emma looks over at her sister, her expression clouded with guilt. “I told Neal I’m having an affair in Venice.”

Mary Margaret eyes her in surprise, her mouth falling slightly open. “Why...why would you tell him that?”

“Because he wanted me to get pregnant by another man. He said he’d be glad to have an heir, even if the child isn’t his.”

Mary Margaret arches a brow. “Seriously?”

“Mmhmm.” Tears sting Emma’s eyes. “I don’t plan on having an affair in Venice, I only told him that so he wouldn’t know who the real father is.” She’ll be proud to have Killian’s child, though, and she wants to announce it to the world. If only it were that easy. “But I don’t know how much longer I can keep up this charade.”

Mary Margaret places a comforting hand on her arm. “It’s alright.”

“Keep up with what charade exactly?” Sir Leopold looks puzzled as he approaches them, his hands tucked into his pockets. “What’s happened?”

Emma sighs and looks down at the floor, hoping her father won’t be disappointed in her. “I’m in love with someone…who isn’t Neal. I’m going to have this man’s child.”

“You’re sure?” He doesn’t sound surprised, though. Almost relieved. “Do I know the man?”

“No.”

There’s a long pause. “And what are your plans?”

“Well, Neal told me he wouldn’t mind if I had a child, so long as I went about it discreetly.”

“Only sensible thing he could say under the circumstances. Then I suppose it’ll be alright.”

“In what way?” Emma looks up into her father’s eyes, which are big and green like her own.

“You can present Neal with an heir to all the Cassidys and put another baronet in Goldby.”

“But I don’t want that. I want a divorce from Neal.”

“Because of your feelings for this other man?”

She nods.

“Well, if you want my advice…”—He sighs and sits down next to her, and she knows what he's about to say—"I'm sorry, but you stand to gain very little by breaking things off. Feelings come and go. You may love one man this year and another the next, but the world will go on. Goldby will go on standing. Put a little baronet in Goldby and please yourself, but stick by Goldby. And Goldby will stick by you.”

Emma, of course, doesn’t at all like what her father has to say. She knows the feelings she has for Killian will never go away. She has never felt this strongly about anyone in her life. She has never loved anyone, and she loves Killian with her whole heart. When it comes to her feelings for him, there is no going; there is only coming and staying and growing. But at least he isn’t disappointed in her. In fact, he seems pleased she found another man. Like Mary Margaret, he never much cared for Neal, but he knew, as did Emma, Neal was a safe choice.

The telephone tinkles from the registration desk, and the room clerk answers it.

“Shall we go to Venice?” Sir Leopold stands, and his daughters follow suit, heading toward the exit, the bellboy carrying their luggage.

“Lady Cassidy?” The room clerk grabs her attention before they make it out the door.

“Yes?” Emma steps up to the desk, where the telephone sits, its earphone in the gentleman’s hand. “Someone wishes to speak to you, milady.”

Emma’s heart flitters with panic, her eyes widening as she looks at the man. The only people who know where she’s staying are the people at home in Goldby, as well as Killian, but he does not own a phone. And she told Johanna to write to her if there is any news. So if someone is calling, it must be an emergency.

She takes the earpiece from the clerk’s hand and holds it to her ear, speaking into the mouthpiece at the top of the long black stem. “Hello?”

“Oh, milady, thank goodness you’re still there. You told me to write with any news, but I’m afraid there’s not enough time for that.”

Emma’s body goes cold. What could have happened that there is no time for? Did something happen to Killian? To Neal? Emma assumes Johanna is using the phone at Goldby, based on the fact she’s whispering in a hushed tone. Emma never uses it much herself, she prefers writing letters. “Not enough time for what?”

~*~

There’s a giant knot of nerves in the pit of Killian’s stomach as he walks through the park, just as he has done so many times, wondering what Neal wants to speak to him about. He has mostly kept to himself since Emma left for Venice, only going into the forest to check on the pheasants and working in the hut, so he has no idea why Neal has called for him.

Johanna is already at the door to let him in when he arrives at Goldby.

“Mrs. Bolton,” he greets with a small smile.

“Good day, Mr. Jones.”

“I hear Sir Neal’s asking for me.”

She nods cordially. “Yes, he’s in his study.” She moves aside to let him in.

“Thank you.” Killian salutes her and heads inside.

“Mr. Jones?” she calls from behind him.

When he turns around to look at her, she peers at the ground.

“I called Her Ladyship, and she’s coming back.”

His brows furrow in confusion. Emma had just left yesterday, and she and her sister had planned a day in London and were to depart for Venice this afternoon. So why would she be coming back here to Goldby? Not that he’s distraught about it. In fact, his heart flutters in anticipation. He has already missed her sweet, smiling face, her sparkling green eyes and her wonderful giggle. “When?” he asks, not even bothering to hide his enthusiasm.

Johanna looks up at him, her face contrite. “This evening. As soon as she can get here.”

“How come?” On one hand, he is relieved she’s returning, for he didn’t know how he’d make it three weeks without her. On the other hand, he’s worried about why she felt the need to come back, and judging by Mrs. Bolton’s expression, he has an inkling it’s not good.

Her eyes are full of hesitance and gloom, like she doesn’t wish to tell him something but she knows she must. “I’m afraid Milah has told people in the tavern about you and Her Ladyship. My friends have informed me she came to your cottage to patch things up with you, and she found a book inscribed with Her Ladyship's name in it and a silk nightdress. I told them it was nonsense to jump to conclusions over a borrowed book, and the nightdress could've belonged to anyone, but it didn’t matter. The rumors had already been spread.”

Killian gulps, his face paling, the world suddenly spinning around him so fast, he feels nauseous. At the same time, anger spirals through him. Milah must have broken into his cottage yesterday when he’d gone for one of his walks with Jolly or when he was at the hut. “I take it that’s why Sir Neal wishes to see me?”

She nods, her eyes cast downward at the ground. “I’m afraid so. I overheard Sir Neal talking to Mr. Geppetto earlier today, so I called Your Ladyship right away to inform her. She said you could meet her at the hut and decide what to do.”

“Thank you for telling me, Mrs. Bolton.” He begins to turn around once more, but pauses to look back at her. “There’s…there’s dark days coming. Best to steer clear of it all.”

She nods as he turns around and heads inside, removing his hat. His heart hammers away in his chest as he goes to face Neal, wondering what he believes is the truth. But he, like everyone else, probably assumes what he heard is true, and he knows Killian had an affair with his wife, so he’s most likely about to get fired.

Killian knocks at the door of Neal’s study. He knew this would happen eventually, he knew he and Emma wouldn’t be able to hide it for too long, he just didn’t expect it would happen so soon.

“Come in,” Neal calls through the door.

Killian takes a deep breath, his heart lodged in his throat as he walks inside, closing the door behind him.

Neal is behind his desk, his hands joined together as he stares blankly at Killian, his expression unreadable.

Killian remembers the first time he stepped into this study after Neal became a baronet. Killian was so lost and hopeless and alone. He hated the world, especially Milah. He had no idea he’d fall in love with Neal’s wife, he had no idea Emma would give him reason to live again. And he doesn’t regret one second of it.

After a moment of studying him, looking him over, glaring at him, Neal finally speaks. “You are my servant, living upon my land at my sole discretion, and now your indecencies have become the subject of gossip.”

“Then you should shut the mouths of the gossips…”

Neal scowls at him, unamused. Killian imagines he wouldn't be either if he were in Neal's shoes. But Neal doesn’t seem to show any emotion at all, apart from annoyance. Like the affair and gossip are merely inconveniences he has to correct.

Neal always came off as the sort of man who only sees things and people as machines or the new technology of the twentieth century. Emma, his servants, a Goldby heir, the workers. He believes their mere existence is to make his life easier, and he finds no emotional attachment toward any of it. Not even his wife. He thinks he needs her. But he doesn’t. She’s a vice he likes to keep close, just like Killian is only a vice to Milah, whom she holds close.

“Are you aware Lady Cassidy’s name has been slandered?”

That, of course, is the last thing Killian wanted. He never intended for the word to get out like this. And he hates Milah even more than he already did. Though he also blames himself for starting anything with Emma in the first place.

“Apparently, her name was inscribed in a book found at your cottage.”

“I’ve got a picture of Queen Mary on my wall calendar, I suppose she’s in my harem as well.”

Neal’s nostrils flare, his face turning scarlet with anger. “I do not appreciate your sarcasm, Jones. You have until the end of today, after which time I never want to see you set foot on my land again. Do I make myself clear?”

“Oh, perfectly. I better get packing then.” He turns around and walks out the door. There are a million things he wants to say to Neal, like how he should’ve treated Emma better and made her happy. Maybe then she wouldn’t have found herself so lonely and in need of affection and companionship that she had to seek out one of Neal’s servants. But it’s best not to anger the man even more than he already has. If Emma’s on her way here, he wants to be able to see her when she arrives. So instead, he turns around, looks Neal straight in the eye and says the truest thing he can say without Neal having him escorted immediately off his land. "I'm sorry about how things turned out, I'm sorry Her Ladyship's name was slandered...but I'm not sorry about how I feel about her." He sucks in a breath and speaks very proudly and firmly. “I’m not sorry for loving her and showing her the love and tenderness she deserves. I will never apologize for that.”

Neal says nothing in return, just stews in silent vexation—his stare could burn a hole through Killian’s forehead—and with that, Killian turns around and walks out the door. At least the man has the capability of showing emotion—when he wants to, at least.

~*~

As soon as she ended the telephone connection with Johanna, Emma told her sister and father she couldn’t go to Venice. She had to go back home before Neal kicked Killian off his land. So her sister gave Emma the key to her car and told her to go. Mary Margaret and Father would go to Venice by train, as they had planned to do anyway. Emma just wouldn’t be going with them.

She takes her sister’s car and drives to Goldby as fast as she possibly can. Her heart is pounding the whole time as she wonders what will happen. Where will she and Killian go? Will Neal even let her leave? Will he grant her a divorce?

Emma knew she’d have to face these questions, she just didn’t think it would happen so quickly. Or like this. All because Milah had to spread rumors. Emma never liked what Milah did to Killian, and she has liked the dreadful woman even less since yesterday morning, when she came over to his cottage while they were in bed together. She almost ruined a perfectly good morning, tried to put her hands on him and tried to get back with him. It had Emma seething under the blankets. She had no doubt Killian would send her away.

As soon as Emma pulls up onto the lane-end, she jumps out of the car and runs through the forest, her heart hammering in her ear. She hopes Johanna got the message to him, and she hopes Killian is able to meet her in the hut. She knew the cottage would be too risky. People would be too nosy and try to see if Emma would show up. Hopefully, they won't go to the hut as well.

Emma dashes up the steps and bursts through the door, catching her breath as she sees Killian. They run into each other's arms, lips colliding so eagerly and passionately, tears streaming down her cheeks without effort. For a long moment, they just hold onto each other, lips latched, with no intention to let go. As though they’ve been apart for years rather than a day and a half.

He draws back and holds her face in his hands, regarding her with so much love, her heart swells. She wants to get lost in this moment, but reality crashes over them, and he breaks away from her to scan the outside and make sure no one is around.

Emma’s eyes roam the hut, and she spots his bag and jacket on the chair. When she looks back at Killian, his face is clouded over with worry. “What are you doing? Where are you going?”

He leans against the edge of the table, where they had made love many times.

This hut holds so many memories for them—it was where they had been together for the first time—but she fears this will be their last time in this hut. “Killian?”

“The cat is well and truly out of the bag now, Emma.” He sighs, his eyes meeting hers. “Everybody’s talking. I’ve been sacked. You cannot be seen here, Emma. You need to be in Venice.”

She shakes her head, a hopeful smile spreading over her lips. “But we could just leave together. Now.” This is their time to get away. Escape. From Neal, from Goldby. From all of it. They could live their lives the way they want. They could spend their days together in a house of their own, raising their child. Just the three of them. Or four or five, or however many children they decide to have.

But Killian doesn’t appear to be happy or hopeful about any of it. “Look at me. I have nothing to give you. I’ve no job, no home. I’ve no purpose in life. Nothing.”

She shakes her head. “Don’t say that. You are everything to me. I don’t need anything else. You and our child are all I need. All I’ll ever need.”

“Jones!” comes a voice from outside the hut.

Killian rushes over to the door, shuts it and locks it. Neal must have sent his men here to make sure Killian leaves.

“You need to go!” the man shouts impatiently.

Killian looks through the cracks of light between the panels, and Emma knows they don’t have much time.

She goes over to him and wraps her hands around the back of his neck. “Look at me.”

He turns toward her and cups her cheeks in his hands, his stormy blue eyes connecting with her green ones.

Her heart sags in her chest at the thought of leaving him again. “Promise me, promise me we’ll share our lives.”

“Aye,” he whispers, nuzzling her nose with his. “I promise, my love.” He closes his eyes, resting his forehead against hers. “When the time comes.” He whispers even softer, his words ghosting over her lips. “When the time comes.” He captures her lips, and Emma lets her eyes fall shut, savoring his taste, for she has no idea when she'll get to kiss him again. When she’ll get to touch him, hear his voice or see his sparkling blue eyes. The future is so unknown.

“Jones!” the man shouts through the door again.

Killian groans and grumbles as he turns around and cracks open the door. “Can I grab my coat, mate?”

Emma sniffles as more tears leak down her cheeks.

Killian shuts the door and goes to the chair, grabbing his bag and draping his coat over his arm. He closes the gap between them once more and touches her cheek with his free hand, his thumb wiping away a tear. This time his eyes are brighter, calmer and full of hope and promise. “I love you, Emma. I will always love you.” He brings his hand to her belly and kneels down, caressing her there. “I love you, baby,” he whispers against her dress, kissing her stomach gently. He rises and searches her eyes with his glistening ones as he rests his forehead against hers, his fingers grazing along her cheek. “I will find you,” he whispers. “Wherever you are, I will find you.” His words send a shiver down her spine.

It's one more promise before they part. And it gives her a shred of hope to hang onto. Knowing he will be trying to work his way back to her, knowing he won’t forget about her or the times they shared. Knowing he’ll do whatever it takes to reunite with her.

“I love you, Killian Jones.” Emma grabs his face and kisses him one last time before he’s forced to leave, her hands sliding into his thick hair and her heart sinking deeper and deeper as the seconds pass by.

Her eyes fall shut as tears stream down her face and mingle with the taste of him as she curls her fingers in his hair and keeps her lips there, holding him close, wanting this moment to last as long as possible. Wanting to stop time and keep him here, never letting him slip from her grasp. But she knows she has to.

She doesn’t even open her eyes until he’s heading through the door, looking back at her. She can’t find it within herself to say goodbye, she doesn’t want this to be goodbye. But when he closes the door, leaving her there all alone in the hut, it all becomes too real, and suddenly it feels like the room is a million times bigger and emptier and colder than it was a moment ago.

Emma knows she’ll see him again—she trusts him to find her. This isn't the last time she'll see him, but she's caught up in a wave of grief, and her heart hurts so badly it feels ripped in half.

She slides down to the floor, wrapping her arms around her legs and tucking them under her chin. Her body shudders violently, and suddenly, in an indrawn breath of silent sobbing, the tears come faster down her face. She buries her face in the crook of her arm and weeps, hoping she’ll see Killian again. Hoping she won’t have to be apart from him for long.

Hoping he’ll find her.

#cs ff #captain swan #lady cassidy's lover

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hjellacott · 9 months

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OK So I'm finishing up the spectacle that is the Harry and Meghan documentary purely out of boredom and a need to see with my own eyes that they really are this massively clueless. I won't say stupid, but come on, it's like they don't know anything. Like, I'm not even an expert, but you study history, study the UK, study the monarchy a bit, study the press and the media a bit, and BAM you can make better decisions.

So one thing that has struck me now is that apparently Prince Harry's reasoning was that if he moved out of the UK, if they worked for the royal family for free, with no taxpayer money, then it'd all be OK. The press wouldn't go after them, they wouldn't have a right to put their private lives out there, and they could lead a private life while still do the good work. And he was sincerely baffled when the Royal Family said no, which I truly am stunned about, because OF COURSE THEY SAID NO. Because Harry was, essentially, delluding himself. So let me explain why Harry's plan could NEVER work.

1- Harry is a British Prince, set to one day be the brother of the king, and he's a british citizen. Therefore, when he goes out and about, he's not just representing the sovereign and doing work in her or his name, he's representing THE COUNTRY. He's the face of the UK, people look at him and his family and based on that judge the ENTIRETY of the country they represent. When he goes and does royal duties, it's not Harry doing charitable work, Harry helping the poor, Harry meeting a country leader... IT'S THE UK THAT DOES IT.

2. Therefore, the Commonwealth citizens have every fucking right in the world to know absolutely everything of what their representatives are doing. Think about it. You don't get to choose to be born in a monarchy, you don't get to choose your royal family, so the very least you get is knowing exactly what the leaders are doing in the name of your country, even in their private lives, because their private decisions also affect the way people will perceive your country, such as when Harry decided to dress as a nazi. And when you see your royal prince goes out to basically have all of the pros without none of the cons, to basically say fuck off to your own country, and go elsewhere, how would you feel? I mean, it's as if a member of your parliament or your congress decides to permanently live in another country but still represent yours. So you have to stay and bite the dust, but he can leave because he's rich?

3. And why is he so rich? because he's inheriting money FROM THE ROYAL FAMILY, from titles, from aristocracy, from the taxpayer, from the colonisation. Or where the fuck do you think the millions that Charles, and also Diana, have at times given him, come from? The whole family shares a fortune nobody is too clear where it comes from, part of it from investments, and it dates back to the colonisation of half the world, you don't get to take it, go, and call it your private money and intend to be left alone.

4. The citizens of the UK have a right to information about anybody that wishes to act in representation of them, doesn't matter if they're paid by the taxpayer or not, because at the end of the day, they're the family, and the business, that leads the country. They are called the Duke and Duchess of SUSSEX, for god fucking sakes. The monarchy is a massive institution of the united KINGDOM. It's its essence. It's super important, of course people have the right to be informed about them, after having to stand having a monarchy imposed on them. And Prince Harry's great uncle Edward VIII abdicated and stopped doing royal duties only to then befriend Hitler, which of course you can imagine the dismay this caused in the UK, so of course the country has learned the lesson and now really wants to know what Harry, who has traditionally been quite a rebel and quite impulsive and caused a lot of fuckery in his teens, is exactly up to, and what his children are up to, anywhere and whenever.

5. Besides Prince Harry also represents the entirety of the Commonwealth Realms, as do any of his royal relatives, and since those are many territories spread out around the world it is super important for the press to publish and spread royal news. The day the royal family becomes invisible and irrelevant, the way Harry wants, even if it's just one member of it, the monarchy will begin to die.

6. Therefore, the ONLY way in the world Harry could defend a desire to never be in the press and get everyone to back him and have the press leave him alone and people not have a right any more to ask about his private life, would be to leave the monarchy, leave the country, renounce every title and privilege, no longer represent the country or the royal family, get a normal job and live an entirely private life wherever he wants.

SO UNTIL HARRY AND MEGHAN DO THAT, THEY'RE NEVER GOING TO HAVE A NORMAL LIFE AWAY FROM THE PRESS, AND I DO NOT BELIEVE THEY DON'T KNOW THIS (they're just not willing to do that and happier playing victims).

#prince harry #meghan markle #harry and meghan #harry & meghan #british royal family #united kingdom #netflix documentary #duke of sussex #duchess of sussex

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a-student-out-of-time · 9 months

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Besides the double murder stereotype. What are other things you dislike about danganronpa/fangans in general, when it comes to writing?

//There's a lot I could say about that, but I think the biggest one for me is the fridging. Dear lord, I hate fridging.

//On the off chance you're not familiar, fridging comes from the trope "Stuffed in the Fridge," which comes from "Women in refrigerators" by Gail Simone, which was a response to a Green Lantern issue where Kyle Rainer's girlfriend Alexandra was killed by the supervillain Major Force and shoved into the fridge for her to find. Quite a journey, I know.

//Fridging refers to the tendency for characters to be killed, harmed, traumatized, de-powered, or otherwise made to suffer not for the advancement of their own stories, but to affect someone else entirely. It's only ever about the character feeling sad or mad in response to these things, often briefly and shallowly.

//For another prime example, Barbara Gordon, aka the OG Batgirl, was shot in The Killing Joke and subjected to humiliation, but not for the advancement of her own character. No, it was entirely to upset her father, Jim Gordon; she is gone from the story after one last scene in the hospital with her. Barbara was left traumatized and paraplegic in a story that wasn't even about her. It was only thanks to the work of other writers later that she became her new identity of Oracle.

//I bring all this up because fridging is an inherently bad trope. It's not one that's often done wrong but can work in certain situations, it's one that is simply bad writing. It's on the same level as Bury Your Gays or R*pe as Drama, bad conceptually and worse in application, because it trashes one storyline or arc for the sake of changing another

//I know what you may be thinking in regard to DR here, and yes, Kaede is definitely a good contender. She was set up to be the first female protag of a canon killing game, only to be caught up in a murder situation and die, leaving local sad boi Shuichi to take up the role in her wake.

//The thing is, while I can certainly see the argument there- an interesting female lead being killed so we can have another sad boi learn to be confident- a lot of people go too far and wish harm on Shuichi and fans of his. This is not the acceptable response to fridging.

//Likewise, I can see the other side of the argument, where Kaede's actions were in line with her personality, how she was willing to go further than other protags and was thus done in by her own actions. No, Tsumugi killing Rantaro and framing Kaede doesn't mean she did nothing wrong; she set up the trap and was willing to crush someone's head. True Fridging rarely comes from a character's own actions, usually outside forces that just want to hurt someone else.

//And while I did enjoy Fuyuhiko's storyline in DR2, I can't help but feel that the deaths of both Mahiru and Peko to get us there feel...iffy. Not true fridging, but maybe fridging adjacent? Peko's death is understandable, but the actual murder of Mahiru and both of them dying for a dude's storyline always did rub me the wrong way a bit. It at least aims for tragedy rather than exploitation in that regard.

//Idk, maybe Hibiki and Kanata's deaths are so comparatively worse that I've softened on the canon examples a bit more. Those two were pure emotional manipulation in every respect, and otherwise had no bearing on their stories.

//And yes, male characters can get fridged too, but it happens far, far more often with female characters. The essay was called Women in Refrigerators for a reason.

//The thing that truly boggles my mind is that I've seen so many fan theories for fangans like Despair Time or Antebellum, usually victim or killer predictions, and their arguments have ultimately boiled down to fridging them for someone else's development, or sometimes purely for the feels. "Charles will die so Whit can learn how to mourn properly" and the like.

//People get annoyed when it happens in the stories themselves, yet theories are oddly rife with it and I don't understand why. As I said, fridging is an inherently bad trope. You cannot do it right, so you simply should not do it at all. And no, the argument that "this is a death game" is no excuse.

//"Anyone can die" is not the same thing as "dying for stupid, contrived reasons is acceptable." Especially not when the reason is "you're in the way of my preferred ship," but that's a whole other iceberg to deal with.

//Bottom line, keep the fridge clear for milk, juice and frozen pizzas, not the corpses of characters who should have arcs of their own

#mod talks #a student out of time #writing advice

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randomclam24 · 9 months

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Before I or anyone else for that matter proclaims anything should be done, you do know this country is a federal honeypot, *right*?

There was actually a real fag who said the "three-letter-agency" CIA narrative the right wing has was just made up, in an outpouring when pushed over it. There's nothing we can actually do about this preeminent consensus, is there? People are really that retarded? *Not* me, *you*! No, really, that's how it works. We have to banter on that level. *And* it's not me that's the problem. The opposition sees this as statement of pure assertion of will - *and* there's nothing - *not a thing we can do - *nope*! - about it*!

People are this retarded. Yes?

People are this retarded.

They still think right-wing leaders dying suddenly is a matter of the elements of nature and not of this narrative that we allegedly made up to this day, which it *is* seen as. No one knows *why*. That particular poster just happens to physically take it up the ass, and so now I'm guessing that's the collective reason why - too many people physically taking up the pooper. How do we make them *stop*?

Update I think it's clear by this point, "we the people" are not part of our system. I know it's probably a honeypot, just saying that, but what else am I left to do at this point? There's nothing.

Update Tumblr had a green-black theme specifically for this mood. Sounds suspicious, as ever. But, of course, I just made that up.

I guess I was living proof that it's not the *consensus* per se that would garner change for the system to not promote *gay* shit in it. The consensus for that already exists, such that all it would take would be the flip of a button, implying we would get our hands anywhere near that kind of apparatus.

It's time to make a change - meaning?

I'm getting bored here - it's not like I'm going to be fooled into thinking something *else* is kino and worth wasting my lifespan on - I don't know why I do this, but - is *that* a honeypot? saying my reason is because it's *right*. Oh no!

I'm frothing at the mouth here guys. I'm *really* angry.

Why do we give birth? I don't get it.

I wanted to post at some point before I died suddenly, at what point did you realize people's definition of being able to get drunk once every weekend was always that casual shit - I don't believe that really has that effect. I just kind of didn't call people's bluffs before because I was being nice by being silent all the time. But you don't booze it up on a Saturday with any kind of beer. It would have to be the homemade kind that's higher-proof almost all of the time.

So, just, I don't know. I must just be more tolerant of the effect than other people.

For the sake of illustration alone, there was a Bible verse about the nature of living as a lazy person - you have little highs and little lows. That's what it's like being a regular person to me. And they don't let you do anything more out-there than those, so that's all I get as my equivalent: *being lazy*

I never wanted to say heavy drinking was good at all. I'm just saying there's a lot less of an actual effect from this stuff than you think, and I'm thinking the 30's representation in cartoons of bubbles appearing around people who are drunk is much more accurate to what it actually takes to have the effect of drunkenness, as opposed to being affected by the power of suggestion. That's what I think people are high on. Most of the time, it's them with their buddies who are douches, and that serves as peer pressure to do the stupidest things, including dying.

Bored, bored bored bored bored bored - how do I get through to these people? All the response I know how to get, or what people know what to give *me*, is "I have to run at the problem with my fist as a sucker-punch before it has the chance to have any reaction" - "*that* made me right! now back to xyz douchy-existence"

There's no such thing as *communication* They just expected me to take *that*

I *wish* I could ever do anything in real-time. I'm not inept.

I tried thinking of alternatives to getting yourself canned legally once and adapted the cartoon idea of sleep darts, as something that could be used on people in high school

We need to keep thinking of alternatives to *that* on public spaces because it's well past time - people are fed up

Unironically leave a normalfag, anybody, any day's, front porch filled with feces and rotten fish and whatever else. It doesn't matter *who*. Nobody even knows the means by which to make such a distinction. But they'll get the message if you defy society as a sustained stimulus long enough. That's the most intelligent discussion we're going to get pushed across the cultural divide. Otherwise they won't hear us. They'll think we were trying to be liberal - they'll think we were trying to be black/queer, if not both at the same time - "finna" - "Contraction of "fixing to", used as "going to""

God, I hate midwits. What a fuckin' joke.

"God, if you *hate* us so much, why don't you go move somewhere *else*?" Because I'm having to be here against my actual own will just being that guy screaming he's a patriot patriot patriot - even though *clearly* I don't know what that means - armed revolution would have *long* preceded this debacle in their time, and that's facts! Oops, I said this

I have to keep breathing *oxygen* for you fuckers!

Update Guys, we've been lied to our whole lives. Life has no value. We should all pack it in.

Update It's actually true that, by staying in the country and soaking up welfare like so many young men now are, that's doing more damage to the economy than simply moving out to a second-world country.

You can't hurt these people enough. You will find out sooner or later.

8/10 night

Update I don't even plan to do this because I would rely on it but BFjgezS.jpg (1471×893) (imgur.com)

Old news Police Cadets Quit, Expose Dept. for Training Cops to View Public as 'Cockroaches' They're at War With - The Free Thought Project https://archive.is/wip/qHvCG

"Part of the motivation, it seems, to train police to be warriors comes from the false perception that there is a war raging against law enforcement. There are absolutely zero statistics to support the claim that there is a “War on Cops” at work on the streets of America.

While there are less than 75 officers who are killed by bad guys with guns each year, more officer deaths are attributed to suicides than homicide and vehicle accidents—combined."

I can't even sleep - basically because I no longer want to

I've felt like posting a sign everywhere I go just for the sake of shits and giggles - there was some comic with a frame that made me bust out laughing as well as my sister - so we actually scanned it and printed multiple copies to then tape to random things on a walk. They were actually very tiny.

But what I'm thinking of now is *not* relatable. Let's take the "I'm just not going to do it, ha ha ha" idea and apply that to just about anything Clown World would want us to do, think, etc. and uh basically have all of Clown World drenched in these fliers

"No Pussy No Work" should be outfitted with the divorce rate and women "body count" statistics for flier form so it can be posted publicly and still like have its effect

There's a gif used to showcase the state of Africans with a man treating an elephant by stimulating it to poop with his mouth. So with that pictured, you can just say, I'm just not going to do it is all and then post that on every workplace

Look, I'm just not going to physically exist is all

Has it ever happened where someone gets arrested for something like goatseposting?

Oh, that kind of exposure is not legal?

I hope you understand (Arnold Schwarzenegger) I don't appreciate the Antichrist like you

Wait, that guy was used in a counter-counter-semitism advert

Arnold Schwarzenegger appreciates the antichrist

Update If I ever just live my life, people think I appreciate the antichrist. There's got to be something to be done *about* this.

It was *always* over. I was just delaying the inevitable.

Let's go make nachos at 3AM

8/10 I got an email that my Google account was disabled because of potential use against community guidelines, but why would it only be just at this moment?

Update It's becoming more blatant the more recent an education I get in programming: they give you the ability - or in Skillsbuild, not even that - to make basic Hello World programs, and then they have you do ten hours of "type *exactly* as I say" - also, there's compatability issues so that it doesn't even do anything when you actually copy these things as said into a program. There's nothing justifying it. The future is just going to be such a slow rot, I don't want to be a part of it.

Update I'm going to the bank tomorrow to have a meeting to have my online account effectively unlocked from all the requirements I want to consider the PTSD cop-out to receive welfare, but that sounds like a dead end in itself. Still, I don't want to work for computer science. It's dorky, and I just want to be left alone in life.

Update I know it sounds ridiculous, but I wish even with this online set of courses, I could convince my parents to just let off. I'm already going at an incredibly slow pace, but at the same time there's nothing actually rejuvenating me so that I can work at a decent pace at any point. This is all I have. This is all I am. [At this point, Internet *completely* cut out. (I think its continuing to be up is dependent on me *not* entering that state of *mind* again.)]

Update I'm an evil person, so you shouldn't tip money to me, but I'm going to open up the means to do so because I'm evil. Also I feel really desperate in this situation where I make $40 a week and at the same time I can't hold down that much liquid at once, but nothing gets me in the state people consider "getting drunk on the weekends" because it has little to no actual effect on me for some reason [It's *incredibly* inconvenient] Honestly, with a surplus, getting a cheap motor scooter would be one of the first things to get. That way I don't need anyone's permission to go places. They really will not let me borrow a car. Honestly all it would take it getting them to let me drive when they're with me long enough that eventually they can say, okay, you can borrow the car, but even then I seriously doubt they would let me.

Update I mowed the lawn the night before for the first time since I was fat. So i don't think I'm *that* out of shape, but I do want to die when I do it. I just kind of ignore that because I don't care about myself or something.

I think it should be more of an important thing than it's treated - being able to follow along with new program development - especially your first few, given it's in a new language, or in web development's case, multiple new languages - in the same integrated development environment as the program, while seeing the same or at least similar results turn out because of it. I even got Visual Studio Code set up in this way and had the basic HTML site up and running as it said. That said to me, you actually have this, on some level or another. You can move forward. Then at some point in CSS - they're doing a simulation where at some point it's implied that you add a bunch more code in that formatting language that they don't instruct you to type out, although it would be long-winded, but after this point, there seems to be a complete disconnect. Even the JavaScript doesn't apparently do anything.

I like *not* achieving things in life because that means I get to sit on here and mope a lot longer

I'm on the last unit and a half of this course, and the last one is supposed to be relatively shorter. But I don't see this ever ending, because this is never going to get off the ground.

Update That's all I am. I'm just a primitive who can't into the modern existence.

Update There is now a website for the movement

(NPNW) No Pussy No Work, Simple A-S

People who don't like this:

Hillary Rodham Clinton: The Weaponization of Loneliness - The Atlantic I realized it's really easy to say there is no God, but what social tapestries keep us locked into place include our empathy for other people as a constant even into the absence of all reason

I don't see how that's meaningful information if you're already born white - this is a death curse! Now what If I pretend to be jewish, will you donate more to me? Just go with it

Update I'm not going to set it up right away. For now, I just asked my mom if she would let me ease my way back into driving by being the driver instead when she would normally take me places and just drive her. She said she would think about it. I also proposed the motor scooter idea, because it was my jailed uncle who happens to be her brother and the cousin who lives in that house now that used a motor scooter as a thing for us to know about it, as a thing, in the first place.

I just don't get it. Throughout grade school, they would introduce the building-block concepts working your way *up* to making projects and things of that nature. Actually, there wasn't usually anything of the nature of a complete computer program at all. So for this type of education, they always end up doing the deep-dive, meaning they have to just tell you, copy exactly what's on these lines.

Once that final fiber breaks, that the real-life program you're implementing no longer functions as it's said it's supposed to, there's no reason left to even follow the education. To begin with, the understanding at this point is pure dictation. In addition, there are spacing errors that get registered that the system gets hung up on, when not even the code editor is that sensitive. I don't know what's so wrong if it's only in my case that this is so bad.

I slept until lunchtime today. I did the lawn-mowing tonight instead of the next morning because I had the energy at this time.

Update "Extra mild sauce for white people"

Even at home, where my dad says he keeps a thing of the hottest sauce in the world or something, Carolina Reaper sauce, in the pantry - and I saw it - after asking for some of his hotter sauce, where he gave me the Sriracha sauce, I asked him what his next hotter sauce was after that, but that was it: there's only mild hot sauce, Jalapeno-based Sriracha sauce, and Carolina Reaper. So in reality there's a massive gap where he says he personally likes to add a good bit of spice to his meal. It shouldn't be equated, but basically the reaction is the same between them: with 100-proof rum that I purchased for the in-between event of my birthday and Father's day, he just had a cup of it mixed with Coke and dumped the bottle without telling me later. I was wanting to see if I could actually put myself in a state where I could stand binge-watching something with him for once, but all he did was play Doom mods that I gave him on his computer. So basically with Sriracha sauce, he just says that should be *enough*, like there's this foreboding about going beyond this, like there are sharks in the water and all this.

It just seemed like one of those things that was a landmark of growing up was getting more used to stronger levels of spiciness.

Okay, let's drop the alcohol aspect of that. Before, it seemed like my dad was implicitly challenging me in a way to try trying hotter things as I grew up. So, to then have him implicitly bar me like it's forbidden to go past Sriracha sauce - and yes, unlike the red hot wings, with this I did get the sniffles, but only just so

Update What else? My dad stays up until practically 2:30 in the morning every other night. He always told me to get a good night of sleep because I needed it for my education and everything. I can't even get enough sleep - at least 90% of the time. I can't focus half as well as he always can, clearly.

I don't know what I want from that. But I'm sure that back in grade school, there was still that concept of "getting ahead" in class. By college, it seemed like it was so complicated that, no matter what you did, you would be dependent on - not even the class, but personally visiting the teacher after class every class in order to piece together the scraps long after the entire lecture.

In an exceptional case, either way, I think the class itself is irrelevant. If you can't understand, typing out the book itself, then you're not going to get it, coming from an impersonal lecture to way too large a class to have any serious back-and-forth dialogue. That's how it is in college.

So, all I can come up with is to bitch and moan. There's no way to have a personal mentor teach me everything. That's the only general structure by which I could see it working.

This sounds tangentially relevant - like they don't really want us

1LZbZ0X.png (1878×236) (imgur.com)

8/11 night I don't want any friends. They all betray me.

I was honestly kind of pissed off at the way the Mother 3 team's take on new hardware just ended in rejection of 3D, saying let's just make it on Gameboy Advance. That leaves no precedent.

I messed around on different N64 games in the emulator with the new settings, and that console basically feels like the equivalent of messing around on the side rails of a playground in order to get on top of it - it doesn't really matter because it still feels immature

Update The more I think about it, the more it becomes clear that, if what they wanted was out of the bounds of the Gamecube, the Wii wouldn't have cut it, and so Nintendo wouldn't have entered that range of graphics until the Wii U.

Update I'm just going to become a recluse for a while and do this. So basically - this is where having evidence that I made a Zelda timeline back in the day that ascribed to the released official one with all but some extra-sounding crap has some merit - yes I can grapple with this nonsense. So basically, they went and wanted to use N64DD visuals. That not working out is moot if you're considering a general lower tier of rendering for things in the distance - that mod would have alleviated the texturing deficiency that N64 had compared even to the PS1. So I'm thinking, based on a long train of thought, anything less than these two would be too low-res with textures, and anything more powerful than that at the time wouldn't have crossed the uncanny valley. That's where you *could* make an argument for coming out on the Wii as a launch title, but there are still essentially the same limitations as the Gamecube. I'm going to take a step out and say the Wii is a different situation, because it crosses the uncanny valley, which defines 7th-gen visuals, but in order to retain this level of fidelity, everything else has to be limited, and so the games almost inherently have a casual kind of feel to them. Everything looks simplified.

So ironically I have a better idea of a lowest tier of rendering than what actual fancy visuals would be best balanced, assuming a personal project would be limited to about the kinds of visuals that could be made in Garry's mod. It can be the highest-end for that, but only relative to that [internet died]. It's an indie development. Thinking about it some more, what would actually be upgraded with higher levels of computing processing power, design-wise, unless you just gave the same, relatively simpler thing a fresh coat of paint with something like RTX lighting

Okay, we could take rounded edges and say, render with this much more vertices. Even then, that only defines explicitly flat abstract geometry. It doesn't make any surface more defined, unless it's something that's just really meant to be smooth

I don't want to sleep anymore

Okay. If you really wanted to, you could start porting models directly from professional 3D drawing programs and have that to where, normally, it just renders a shorthand of the geometry, and have that for your standard constructs.

Update It's starting to sound like a waste of time. Okay. The idea was to have, if there's going to be a tier of visuals that outmodes 7th-gen, it would essentially be, actual professional 3D modeling, where normally the depth of it would be implied by a basic surface with a texture, that can be tessellated within a small radius of the player. That would basically prevent anything from looking blocky up close.

Update Well, I think the descriptions I made for the tiers are adequate.

Update Really, for anything of that nature, they chose the first tier because it would be simple yet effective. Anything beyond that would be obsessive.

I still feel like there's a similar balance that could be achieved with the tier of visuals that includes 7th-gen.

I feel like this would just make anyone else want to go to sleep.

Update So, professional 3D modeling and ray tracing aren't off the table. It's just that I don't want to have to rely too heavily on it.

Update So really I should be worried about finding a fine balance of visuals from 7th/8th-gen, and knowing what works well about them. Otherwise I may as well go fuck off.

All i have to decide on is, definitely more powerful than the Xbox 360. Otherwise, you have backgrounds that may as well enter tier 1. That's all I have on that. And I'd have to review 8th-gen one more time real quick.

Update There was so much weight on console wars, there's definitely evil somewhere here.

Update I think it's either PS3 or the PC games at the same time. It's going to come down to testing all the different model qualities on the PC versions.

Update No - basically has to be more powerful than PS3. I don't know how the Wii U stacks up, but beyond that in the console wars, that's where I would personally want to just start implementing the 3D models for any more intricate details and have that be rendered selectively

Update It sounds dorky and weird to actually sit down to do any of this editing.

8/11 well there you go I got it set up

https://ko-fi.com/randomclam24

I can't get feedback over whether this is a good idea because of shadowbanning

Also, have to monitor Stripe to see if they pose any new measures like PayPal when I tried that, for $2500 per violation to their company image.

Update much later It's doing the exact same thing as it's doing with my two main accounts: it only shows the total of page views that *I* contributed to it.

I made one directly on Stripe

https://donate.stripe.com/cN201jaC93Ah2uA000

Update after dinner Okay I guess I'm going to have to work for it

I'm going to spend a lot of time sleeping

8/12 night Okay, so just for the sake of an effective example, I'm going to repeat the entire comparison of a Mario 7/29 Build video. It was titled something almost unrelated, just Wario apparition with a date or something, but it was in high quality and started with a camera setup like FNAF where Mario models were just uncannily there dancing in the dark. When I was first getting really big, I actually did a kind of jig even though it was alone at a weird time at night. I'm pretty sure that creator took their own creative liberties beyond that point. But in any case, it looks like content creators have access to me even when I'm masturbating.

I've tried to explain it before, but to an extent, what you think impacts impressions that are created later on, but I don't expect it to be this specific.

Update What am I supposed to say?

I had a Mountain Dew Major Melon out of the fridge after waking up at near midnight, and then I went upstairs and had a pear and brought down the last Klondike and put it in my freezer.

Update Having to deal with a system where I can't have any kind of confirmation that what they're instructing me to pantomime 1:1 is correct and actually functional despite potential compatability issues is a hill to get over that I've never done, where I have absolutely no further reason for interest in the thing, unless my life has depended on it. Like, I got into Missouri S&T at Rolla for a semester out of community college, and then failed immediately.

Repost of https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0P_tPdRDoDA with layering of https://youtu.be/fEGypvETQRE?t=106

Update Is this all life is? Yes

Update Life sucks

8/12 night I've got it. I'll try eBay.

If that's shadowbanned, then there are actual means of commerce being blocked off.

Update God abandoned us, and there's nothing we can do about it.

Update I noticed there's a musical *thing* they're doing for the second half of Murasaki Forest, if anyone could tell me what formally that is, that could be great, except this is probably shadowbanned - hearing this part also reminded me that I have intense hatred for mankind and am extremely antisocial

By now I think you understand, "No Pussy No Work" only works as a vouch against white people, specifically what they call "AngryWhiteMenistan", because if you did what you need to conform, in fact this is the only means by which to *access* - ...yeah, whites aren't very bright, are they?

*I don't think you understand, people don't *think* according to your echo chamber.*

What the fuck am I talking about

I don't get it

Exactly. NPNW implies your first priority is to get *pussy*, when if you're willing to give up your priorities, it was already perfectly available.

No one cares about white "priority". Those are clear-Satanist. Don't know what else to call them, or don't know what else to tell you. (Sarcastic) Sorry.

Up your nose with a rubber hose

Yeah I know you can only really make fun of yourself Don't know what /pol/tards are going to repackage this as, but that's referring specifically to white fragility something, nonsense something, silly.

Update I don't know what happened, but I don't like white people.

I don't like white *men*. Right! You would, only this. Right. Right

If you have children, they're going into the aether of bodies of the education/media system headfirst out the womb. You can't just homeschool them.

Agenda 2030 already got realized in more places than not. You won't do a damn thing because you're

A boomer over 45 too afraid to look at Klaus Schwab's early life section on Wikipedia

statistically likely to be obese

a killer of the prophets as in the New Testament

0 notes

tteokdoroki · 3 years

Text

dick destroyer december | i. midoriya

♡ pairing: izuku midoriya x fem!reader.

♡ word count: 6.2K

♡ rating: mature, 18+, mdni.

♡ genre: college!au, fluff + smut.

♡ summary: with no nut november over, finals complete and christmas right around the corner, your number one boy returns to you with only one thing on his mind.

♡ warning(s): please read ! heavy smut, pwp ( characters aged up to twenties ), drinking, mentions of alcohol, mentions of poly!kiribaku, unprotected sex ( wrap it before you tap it y’all ) wall sex, fingering ( female recieving ), light!pet play, spitting, cum play, mentions of sex toys, exhibitionism, oral sex ( male + female recieving ), light!praise, heavy!breeding kink.

♡ author’s note(s): merry christmas everyone! i hope despite the circumstances that you’re all able to enjoy the holidays and are staying safe, if you’re not celebrating i wish you a wonderful day as well!! anyways here’s a little festive fic to satisfy you guys and tysm for 2K+ followers <33 find the corresponding kiribaku fic here!

♡ masterlist | requests

ever since you’d started college, your roomate, katsuki had always said that november was his favourite month of the year; it took you a while to figure out why.

having known the blonde since you were a child, you were aware that he despised the cold weather that nipped at his nose and made his quirk slow down. he hated wearing extra sweaters and begrudgingly asking your mother to make him some hot chocolate whenever he came over to play; in fact he hated asking you for it now as adults in your early twenties but as his good college roommate from freshmen year, you made sure he always had a mug waiting. nonetheless, katsuki’s sudden love for the winter months and festive weeks following honestly confused you to your wits end— especially with the impending doom of finals sneaking up on you.

however, you quickly found out the reason behind your best friend’s change in attitude towards the month of november, six months into your freshman year relationship with izuku midoriya.

“no nut november,” katsuki had purred into the neck of his beer bottle, rolling the cool glass against his bottom lip as he laughed at you from across the room. you had recalled the conversation to have occurred exactly half way through october, before the aforementioned month, you and your roommate had decided to host a small gathering with your classmates— purely fulled by thirty boxes of pepperoni pizza and beer, only two of the boxes had been vegetarian for your friends mina ashido and denki kaminari ( he was challenged by mina to go green for an entire month. “that’s why i love this month s’fuckin’ much.”

bakugou ended his sentence with a swig of his beer, setting the now empty bottle onto the coffee table that had been a house warming gift from his own mom. the sound causes todoroki and sero to jump from their place playing cards against humanity with your girl friend momo on the floor, and kirishima ( bakugou’s crush at the time, who’s drunk and passed out in the blonde’s lap ) to flinch awake. katuski pets his red hair once, making kirishima blink up at him affectionally.

your boyfriend, izuku, fidgets under the intimating stare of your roomie and you can tell he’s fighting the blush that spreads rapidly across his freckled cheeks. “n-no nut november?” your baby squeaks out, large palm settling on your lower waist as you shuffle to get comfortable in his lap. it’s clear he hasn’t taken part before, so you know exactly what your best friend is doing. trying to tease him in front of all your friends and pull him into something that you’re going to hate. nonetheless, deku downs the rest of his own alcoholic drink as bakugou prepares a response— the rest of your friendship group now pulled into the conversation.

“katsuki bakugou, don’t be mean.” you scold with a bite into your grease laced pizza and offer up the rest to izuku, who politely passes. you pout.

“‘m not, just sayin’— that damn month will be the only time of the year that i don’t get to hear you and the goddamn nerd fuckin’ like rabbits all the time.”

this time, its you who fights an embarrassed look on your face while your green haired lover simply swipes todoroki’s shot from the coffee table and swallows it all at once. the dual haired boy only groans before rising to get another from the kitchen and the rest of your friends hide their giggles in their own drinks, cards and half eaten pizza slices. “you…you can hear us?” you squeal incredulously, causing your friends to snort out loud again. izuku still says nothing.

“baby, we damn near almost see you whenever we drop by!” kirishima mumbles with sleep curling in his tone, he stretches like a cat on bakugou’s lap and grins at you— sharpened teeth dazzling under the LED lights in your living room. they flicker to a deep green, but you barely notice it.

abandoning your pizza as a whole, you huff and push up the sleeves of izuku’s hoodie that you wear— just about ready to pummel your best friend into the ground for having people over while you…ahem…get some, but shoto returns from the kitchen quicker than you anticipate and cuts right through the chatter with ease, giving you little time to feel flustered by the sudden turn in conversation. “you guys are more sexually active than my parents and they had four kids, messed up with raising us from touya, though,” he says in his iconic monotonous voice, causing you to splutter and katsuki to kick his feet out in victory. “seriously, i doubt midoriya would be able to beat any of us at this no nut november thing ‘cause of it.”

this time, deku ( as so affectionally nicknamed by your childhood best friend ), pouts, his frustrated voice bleeding into the conversation. “c’mon, don’t you have a little faith in me, shoto?”

“no.” is todoroki’s simple answer. you flinch, did you guys really have sex that often? to the point where no one believed your boyfriend could go a month without getting his dick wet?

“i second that,” kaminari pipes in, picking a mushroom off of his pizza and leaning over to plop it into sero’s mouth.

“third it!” the latter adds.

your roomie takes that and runs with it. “he wouldn’t last a day even if he tried.”

“leave it alone, katsuki.” you find the courage to defend yourself through your flustered state without realising the buzz of beer and vodka shooting through zuku’s veins.

it takes quite a bit to get your boyfriend drunk, he was a big boy after all and played for your college football team but once the drink was through his system he often broke out of his shy demeanour and into one of confidence and challenging your beloved best friend. izuku’s grip on your waist tightens as he leans forward to point accusingly at the blonde before speaking. “wanna fucking bet on it, kacchan?” he says with sparkling emerald eyes and a honeyed voice that makes you twitch in place in his lap. of course you would get horny right in the middle of your two best boys having a drunk argument.

“what’chu say nerd?” bakugou slurs, pushing poor kirishima off of his lap and to the floor in order to stand up and cross the room towards your boyfriend, pointing a finger in his face.

izuku pushes the digit away, smirking up at the blonde drunkenly and everyone’s gaze in the room suddenly falls on them. “i bet that i can last longer in no nut november than you.”

you whimper from your lover’s lap, knowing that as soon as everyone clears out you’re going to pounce on him before this stupid bet takes place. this doesn’t go unnoticed by the girls, momo and mina, who tease you for having such a high libido but you don’t think they’ll understand how much you’re going to suffer without your broccoli haired boyfriend’s dick every other night.

you love izuku and katsuki, you really do— but its times like this, for the sake of your sex drive and love life, that you really wish they’d got along more. maybe it was their little battle for your affection that caused the rift between the two, after all katsuki had been the only boy in your life up until college and izuku, you were pretty sure was the one you wanted to spend the rest of your life with…either way, their rivalry was getting in your way and was about to be a major cockblock for the next thirty days. “hold up you guys, don’t i get a say in this?” your voice comes out in a slight whine as you tug on midoriya’s fitted shirt, but he’s too busy having a stare off with your roommate to notice. “what about me and my needs?”

“it’s not about’cha, shitty girl.”

“stay out of this, yn.”

you huff, pushing yourself off of your boyfriend izuku’s lap to stand and smack the pair of losers upside their heads before joining your girls on the floor. mina pulls you into a comforting hug, trying to distract your mind from the fact that it’ll be deku dick-less for a month while momo serves you out a set of cards to join her in a game of cards against humanity with the other boys lounging on the floor— kirihsima is invited into the game too. “sounds like i’ll be getting you a dildo as an early christmas present!” ashido comments, swiping her deck off of your hand me down rug before anyone can see them.

momo grins at you while you take your cards and take another shot from poor, unsuspecting shoto. “better make it extra thick, we know he’s got a nice one on him, yn.”

“fuck you guys.”

“gladly, we’re not taking part of no nut november like those two idiots.” the black haired girl hums, shuffling in her seat to start the next round. you roll your eyes and turn your gaze to watch the green and blonde haired boys you adore so much fight over this trivial guys only event.

their cheeks are flushed from all the beer they’ve drunk and they’re leaning on each other for support, but that doesn’t stop them from going at each other. “you couldn’t beat me, even if you tried, shitty deku.” katsuki mumbles, arm around midoriya’s head— forcing the poor boy into bakugou’s large pecs. “haha...shitku…”

“oh try me, bitch.” your boyfriend counters, voice so husky it sends shivers down your spine, although it contrasts deeply with the sight of his adorable cheeks pressed against katsuki’s tits.

they’re too drunk to brawl it out and quite frankly you’re too tired to bother to stop them, mind only wondering how you plan to survive the next thirty days.

three years, three novembers and a few weeks into december later; you’re still wondering how the hell you’ve survived.

ever since that night in your freshman year; izuku, bakugou and the other boys have competed vigorously to last throughout the entirety of no nut november; your boyfriend having won the last three years in a row. katsuki hated it, losing to your izuku but he hated the victory sex you gave him even more.

you’d think he’d be used to it by now, with everyone in their final year of college but bakugou had manage to luck out this year on not hearing you and midoriya go round after round on november thirtieth. finals had hit you guys hard in terms of wrapping up the semester before christmas; they were important to pass too, considering you’d all be graduating within a few months, so you’d barely seen izuku since november ended and december rolled around.

now, being a couple weeks into the festive month and with finals drawing to a close— you had yet to make plans to see your boyfriend. there was little time between the online classes and preparation from the holidays, yet you could feel yourself growing more sexually frustrated by the second. rubbing one out wasn’t doing it for you anymore and listening katsuki’s bragging about his peaceful nights of sleep while you decorated your apartment with mistletoe and tinsel was really starting to tick you off.

the very decoration slips from between your fingers as bakugou walks in, yanking bits of tape from his fingers from where you had him lining the ceiling rails with gold, green and red tinsel. the blonde had only gone and slammed the door to your living room against the wall, grumbling about the stupid mess of clear tape across his clumsy fingers— the action scaring you half to death before you huff, facing him. “what, katsuki? what could you possibly need right now?”

his vermillion gaze picks up from his smoking palms, a last resort to getting rid of the tape. “came to tell ya that ‘m headin’ out with kirishima— going to pick up our girlfriend from the airport.” a sweet blush lays loosely against your best friend’s cheeks at his admission, not long after you guys’ drunken night in freshman year, bakugou had confessed to your red headed companion; only to find out he had a girlfriend waiting for him in his hometown.

kirishima wasn’t a cheater, but he also couldn’t help the flutter in his heart around bakugou— so had the two meet straight away and after a lot of tears and large dramatics, the three settled into a cute little relationship. you’d only met the girl once when she visited both boys for spring break— but you’d loved her and knew how much she made your best friend happy.

you smile nonetheless, picking the mistletoe up from the floor. “tell her i said hi, yeah?” you mention to your friend while he shrugs on a jacket and checks himself in the mirror. katsuki was in love, and it was insanely adorable to see. “do i need to set up the guest bedroom for her ’n kiri?”

“nah, shitty red head kicked out kami, he’s staying with sero and mina while my girl’s up.” katsuki shakes his head, letting you fix the collar of his jacket after you bound over to him. “we’ll be back after lunch to pick up some of my stuff though. so don’t do anything fuckin’ stupid and i’ll see you later, yeah?”

you cross a finger over your heart but the mischievous smile on your face gives you away. “no promises katsu, stay safe out there!”

your smile drops however, as soon as your roommate closes the door behind him, knowing him and kirishima, they’ll probably fuck their girl across all the surfaces in eijirou’s free apartment, which only makes your stomach churn with hot jealously and a hint of arousal.

selfish of you as it were, you wish your boyfriend hadn’t chosen such an intense subject with so many finals and intense studying— but izuku loved engineering almost as much as he loved you, so its not like you would ask him to give up his passion.

besides, you figured he’d look pretty hot in his mechanics classes—sleeves rolled up to his elbows, scared hands on display while sweat drips down his furrowed brow and—

and fuck me, now you were as horny as a mother fucker.

a familiar ache appears between your thighs while you attempt to busy yourself with the rest of the festive decorations; you hang a wreathe at the door both inside and out, tape the remaining tinsel around counters in your kitchen and finally attempt to fix the christmas tree katsuki insisted wasn’t lopsided ( even though it was ). but no matter how hard you worked om christmas-ing the apartment, you couldn’t shake the fantasy of midoriya railing you against his work bench. it wouldn’t go away.

patting your cheeks to calm your hot flush; you decide that you’re done bedazzling and fix some christmas lights above your doorways to go with your LED ones, and get ready to take a cold shower and hoping that the wetness between your legs will go away. you make a b-line for the bathroom, not bothering to bring a spare change of clothes since katsuki isn’t home. it’s not like he hasn’t seen you naked before.

you’re half way through your commute, wearing nothing but one of zuku’s old shirts when the front door jingles and busts open from the other side of your home. foot steps pound against your hardwood floor, letting you know someone is approaching.

“fucking hell katsuki, stop slamming the door against the wall before you make another—“ your words die in the back of your throat when your sweet little boyfriend comes into view. albeit a bit dishevelled, deku’s green hair falls prettily over his excited eyes while sweat rolls in tiny droplets from his forehead to his chin and his backpack hanging half off of his shoulder…in all honesty he looks a mess, but a good looking one at that. “zuku? what are you doing here?”

your lover looks bewildered, but a smile that fills you with warmth crosses his face. “i ran across campus to see you; i finished my finals…” he pants, the engineering building is pretty far from here so no wonder he looks the way he does.

despite knowing this, you quirk a brow. “still doesn’t answer my question babe.”

“november is over,” izuku sighs, dropping his backpack and crossing the room towards you in three short strides. When he reaches you, scarred hands curl around your waist while soft lips tickle the shell of your ear with deku’s next words. “it’s christmas…don’t make me wait. i want to fuck you.”

you don’t miss the way bight green eyes darken and drag up your hand naked body, your boyfriend’s shirt ending just above your knees and exposing the meat of your thighs to him. the wetness pools between them, making your skin glisten under familiar flashing LED lights and tinsel. izuku is waiting for a. sign...anything for you to give him consent to take his prize between your legs, electricity crackles in the air and you instinctively reach up to curl your fingers in his curls. “fuck me, izuku.” you say breathlessly, unleashing a month and a half’s worth of hormones out onto each other. “fuck me like you mean it, big boy.”

the teasing lilt to your voice earns you a spank to the ass as deku lifts you up into his arms and over his muscular shoulder. you squeal in delight at the harsh sting, leaning down to pat his ass too. he’s got a particularly nice one and you’re sure it was carved by the fucking gods.

the green haired boy hauls you over to the kitchen counter, setting you down atop it before his lips find yours in passionate and hurried movements. its been so long since you’ve kissed him, felt his muscles ripple under your touch while your hand roams his chest underneath the varsity jacket he wears.

you push the offending material off while izuku trails a hand between your thighs, chuckling into the kiss at the slick that adds a glimmer to your skin. his pink tongue darts out to lick a stripe across your bottom lip, begging for permission to enter your hot mouth. you grant him access, swirling your own pink muscle around is and suck it down. your breath hitches as thick fingers finally come into contact with the burn of your heat, gently prodding at your puffy, sticky clit. “you’re…doll, you’re so fucking wet already. did you miss me?” your boy moans breathlessly in between your sloppy kisses, pulling away to show you the string of your slick that coats his fingers. you nod in agreement.

izuku taps your lips once and you obediently take the digits into your mouth, humming at your sweetness that invades your tongue, all the while, his other wandering hand shoves two digits into your wet cunt with no warning— making you shiver on the counter while the tinsel you’d taped there scratches at your calves. both sets of fingers thrust into your openings at the same time, giving you a friction you so awfully desire.

“such a good girl, dollface— fuck, i f-forgot how good you looked sucking on my fingers like that.” midoriya whines out and you’re not sure which of your holes he’s referring to, but you couldn’t care less, not when those that stuff your tight pussy are curling against the walls in a way that has you leaking sweet nectar all over your marble surfaces. you gush at his praise however, bucking your hips into his hand while the heel of his palm grinds into your swollen clit— sending shockwaves through your body.

the fingers that plug your mouth are pulled out so the darling sounds of your moans mingle with that of your dripping heat, walls clenching around izuku every once on a while. your lover grinds against the table, watching you with close eyes as your face contorts into expressions that he’s missed so dearly. one thrust into your spongy g-spot makes your body jump and thighs close around your boyfriend’s hand— head falling forward against his shoulder. “mnn, zuzu... haven’t felt this good in s’long, gonna cum, gonna mess up your hand.”

to your dismay, deku pulls from your cunt faster than you would have liked and you whine at the empty feeling in your stretched out hole. your heat makes an awful dripping sound when you’re fully empty, and you grunt knowing that its a mess you’ll have to clean up later.

however, you’re easily distracted by the lips at your collar bones, painting bruises into your sweat licked skin while slick hands paw at your breasts. “cum on my face first, please?” its cute how desperate izuku is, but you can’t say that you aren’t either— especially when you haven’t fucked in so long.

“yes, god yes…” you accept too quickly while your shirt is pulled off completely; for midoriya’s mouth as moved from pressing hot kisses to your neck onto biting at your breast and rolling the hardened nipple of your other with his free hand. “but, wanna suck you off too ‘zuku…”

your boyfriend doesn’t hesitate with his next movements, kicking off his pants and boxers ( in one go, mind you ) before picking you up once again and sinking to the floor with you in his arms. he makes quick work of flipping you onto your tummy, pulsing cunny shoved so close into his face that you can feel deku’s nose bump your clit when he breathes and then; your face rests so easily on the swell of his thigh— right next to his hardened cock that you’ve missed so much.

izuku midoriya is a god and you swear by it.

your friend’s were right, he is packing. he’s thick and girthy, tip angry and red as it leaks heavily with a clear precum that has you drooling. “missed your dick, zu,“ you sigh, mostly to yourself and before you know it, your lips enclose around the head of his cock.

the way you suck on it, as if you’ve been starved of your last meal makes izuku shiver with pleasure and his nails dig into your peachy ass. you roll his balls between your fingers, loving the delicious whimpers you manage to lure from between your boy’s lips and the sound makes your pussy spasm around nothing.

a weighted palm moves to the back of your head in order to push you further down on his cock, deku’s own hips bucking up so you swallow more of him down. the taste of him is dangerously addictive, saltiness dancing across your tongue. “suck my dick sweetheart, yeah? suck on it just like that, good girl.” the hot breath from each of his choked laments brushes against your eager cunt, dampening your skin even more. he dives right in, tongue slithering between your puffy folds while he slurps at you with at insatiable place.

izuku craves to make you feel nothing but ecstasy, working his pink muscle hard against your walls that clamp down on his tongue while yours runs laps between the dribbling tip of his iron hot length. inhaling sharply, you force yourself to take more of deku down your throat, listening out for the tears that sting in his emerald eyes wen you swallow around him. You hum with sweet victory when his breathing stutters and hips jump up with excitement.

you’re both close, sensitive from the time you’ve spent away from one another, but neither of you can find it in yourselves to care. the room rises with temperature at every step you take towards orgasm, deku taking your cheeks in large, calloused palms and spreading you apart to spit directly into your hole. you swear on your life you’d never known pleasure until you’d met izuku, as no matter how much time you’d been apart, he still knew all the little tips and tricks to get you going. where to hold you, how to touch you, what to say. he was always so focused on making you feel good.

your head bobs up and down with an inconsistent pace, each time, your tongue mapping out the veins on his girth that you’d come to know so well, hand’s fisting at balls and the rest of his cock that you can’t reach.

“i’m gonna…doll—puppy, i’m gonna cream in that mouth of yours… please,” a strangled cry. “i-is that okay?”

you tap his thigh once, your own little signal to let your boyfriend know it’s okay before continuing your work— letting drool pool in your mouth before spewing it onto his cock. deku pulls his tongue from inside of you, flicking it rapidly at your clit to bring you closer and closer to the edge, not wanting to cum without you. and he doesn’t, the cord that’s built up in your stomach finally snapping.

white flashes behind your eyes as you gush all over izuku’s face, drenching his freckled cheeks and painting his innocence with a layer of your honeyed sin. Your lover follows shortly after, filling your mouth to the brim with a heavy load that tastes of him and only him. a taste that you could fall in love with every single day. “baby,” you giggle after letting go of his cock with a satisfying ‘pop’, heat spreading beneath your skin as you take note of the slight shine to the green haired student’s face. “think you made me squirt!”

“guess i did! you’re always so cute when you squirt for me, yn,” and like the messy boy he is, midoriya wipes his mouth on the back of his hand ( always a poor eater, couldn’t keep his meal in one peace ) before peeking at you from over your quivering and arched back. izuku smiles proudly at his handy-work of your messy cunt, radiating a billion rays of sunshine and your heart clenches in your chest. you hate how cute he looks when you’re in such a lewd and compromising position, like he hadn’t just fucked you dumb under the mistletoe. “should’ve been on my dick ’n not m-my tongue though...”

“i wouldn’t be opposed to another round, if you aren’t.”

“like hell i could say no to being inside you after a whole month of waiting, doll.”

you roll your eyes, but wiggle your hips back into your boyfriend’s face nonetheless. “then dick me down deku, destroy me.”

with your boyfriend’s help, you manage to crawl off of his lap and wait patiently on your knees as he stands. izuku beams down at you, a hundred and one words of love written in his eyes that glow warmly under christmas lights before he pets your head and reaches for your hands to help you stand on shaky legs.

the first kiss you share after this is gentle and sweet, even while your tangled fingers are set free and deku’s large hands are once again on your waist, rubbing small circles into the skin of your hips as he backs you into the nearest wall. you simper at the taste of yourself on his tongue and allow him to hoist you up by the backs of your thighs— locking your ankles at the centre of his back and just above bis bum— all the while keeping you pressed against the wall.

the outline of izuku’s length presses hotly against your weeping slit, his lips still slotted against yours in a slow liplock while his tip smears the remains of his seed across your clit and between your folds. you feel your boyfriend’s arms quiver around you as he slowly begins to sheath himself within your spamming pussy— jolting away from his lips, your mouth falls open in a weak moan and the green eyed boy quickly follows you, copying the movement of your lips as his sweaty forehead meets your own and your gazes align sweetly. “doll…” he mumbles brokenly, letting you adjust to the push of his cock against your walls. “been so long since i felt you like this…”

your fingertips reach out and graze his shoulders, hot breath fanning out between your bodies as izuku’s cock reaches the hilt inside of you. he stills. “move baby, can’t wait anymore— “

izuku midoriya doesn’t need to be told twice when it comes to fucking you; finally making the move to bottom out inside of your pussy. heat blossoms in your heart and your glistening mound as your lover gently rolls his hips against yours and the way he feels reminds you that your mind, body and soul belong to him and him only.

although you are finally together, moving as one against the wall in your shitty college apartment, you crave for izuku to fill you to the brim and reach up to tug at mossy locks in order to bring him impossibly closer.

you don’t dare close your eyes as deku sets the pace, not even as your gaze on him flutters, you want the image of his blushed and blissed out face imprinted to into the back of your mind forever, you want the sounds of struggled whimpers and skin slapping against skin to become the tune of your memories. you want your senses to be filled with him always and forever as make love against tinselled ceiling rails and mistletoe above your heads. all you can think is more, more, more. more of him, more of izuku.

“focus on me, puppy,” izuku reminds you, grinding his pelvis against you every time his hips canter into you. his cock grazes the entrance of your womb, leaking into you like a cocktail of your arousals. but the neediness behind his words makes you blink away the glassiness in your eyes, locking your arms and legs around him tighter and grinding your hips down to meet the drive of his cock into your spongy g-spot. “your cute lil hole’s still so tight, nice ’n moulded into the shape of my cock— made to take me, right?” your boy babbles, tripping over his sentences through the saliva on his tongue.

the feeling has you stirring against your boyfriend’s length, his now rapid pace sending your teary eyes rolling and you mewling. “made for you ’n only you ‘zu, please don’ stop…” is all you can say, mind breaking as midoriya’s hands drop between your joined bodies to draw lazy shapes into your puffy nub, the movements silky due to the mild mix of juices coating your sexes.

each thrust from your lover sends you a little bit up the wall, head of his cock catching tastefully along the ridges of your velvety walls— the way your pussy feels inside drives izuku to the brink of insanity, you’ve always been able to take him so well and he missed the way your cute face curled into expressions of desire all for him. you’re so pretty, so intoxicating and he’s so happy to have you back in his arms.

“s-such a good girl for me, yn…fucking hell puppy,” izuku punctuates each of his toe curling thrusts with stuttered cries of your name, angling his hips upwards to hit your g-spot over and over. everything feels so sloppy, tainted with signs of your love but as the knot in your stomach begins to unravel, you couldn’t care less. “gonna make you mine, gonna fill you up and make you my fucking puppy.”

“’m already yours, always will be zuku,” you manage to speak, clenching down on him and letting out an almost pornographic moan as deku drills into you with the last of his strength.

he nods against your foreheads that remain pressed together, staring at you with adoration written across his seafood eyes. “love you, doll…love you s’much, you did so well baby…cum for me now…” izuku mumbles out, hissing slightly as your grip on his hair tightens to yank him down for one final searing kiss.

tears of heavenly pleasure roll down your cheeks as he swallows your final moan, his words pushing you right over the edge and into an earth shattering orgasm. “c-cumming!” you squeal so loud that you’re sure the neighbours can hear, while you lose control and pulse around midoriya’s scalding cock. the world of colour flashes behind your eyes— release splattering out against your boyfriend’s pelvis and the floor. “mnnn, izuku! i love you, please…”

you’re begging now, your sloppy pussy coaxing him along to his own release while deku relentlessly fucks into you. his chest rumbles with every one of his whimpers and groans, cock pushing you into overstimulation while he snaps his hips into you.

“ohh i love you…gonna cum, gonna cum— fuck, puppy—!” he sobs pathetically, dropping his head to your neck as his teeth clamp down on your bare skin to silence himsel. your tired body is forced up the wall while izuku tumbles into his own orgasm, sweltering seed splashing up inside your abused cunt. he slows to a grind, creaming inside you and painting your insides white as snow— panting with you until your breathing calms down.

the pair of you sink to the floor again, still in one another’s embrace as exhaustion sweeps over your limbs. before you know it, izuku is giggling sweetly against your lips, pressing grateful kisses along your neck and jaw while you fiddle with his baby hairs on the nape of his neck— still trying to catch your breath.

“t-that,” he sighs, nothing but love and adoration cushioning his gaze on you as you settle in his lap. you squirm at feeling so full, his cum dripping out of your fluttering hole but find yourself getting comfortable soon after. “that was so good, i missed you, yn, really.”

you cup the boy’s freckled cheeks and hum, heart swelling at his slight confession. “i missed you more zuku, all of you, not just your dick.” you clarify your words, making light of the mess you’ve made.

izuku rolls his eyes but leans into your gentle touch nonetheless, faking a pout in order to get a kiss on the lips. “glad to know that my girlfriend still loves me, even when she’s been deprived of my godly cock for a month and a half.”

“i’ll always love you.” you say, leaning in to give him a slight peck on the lips.

“as will i.”

you both tilt your heads to complete the vow with a simple kiss when a cough cuts through the love filled atmosphere, making you and izuku jump right out of your skin. Immediately, your gaze scopes out the room, only to land on your child hood best friend— accompanied by both his girlfriend and boyfriend. fuck, you completely forgot about that.

“are you two done now?” katsuki drawls, still tucked into his winter jacket, while krishima covers his girlfriend’s eyes with a free hand, the other occupied by her luggage from her flight. she still offers you an awkward smile and a wave.

“k-kacchan! haven’t you ever heard of knocking?” deku squeaks, wrapping his arms around you to pull you into his chest and at least protect some of your decency. it’s nothing bakugou nor kirishima haven’t sen before ( it’s not the first time you’ve been caught like this ) but you allow yourself to fall into izuku’s protective embrace anyways— heated embarrassment prickling underneath your skin.

your blonde roommate, however, is livid— staring you down with bloody eyes that speak tales of murder. “knock? knock? i fucking live here, you shitty nerd!” bakugou scolds, making you flinch and offer him a weak smile. eijirou by now has the decency to escort his girlfriend into his other partner’s room to gather some of his belongings, effectively leaving you and your boyfriend to face the wrath of your favourite angry pomeranian. the blonde turns to you. “and i thought i told you not to do anythin’ fuckin’ stupid while i was gone?”

“don’t yell at me! i didn’t know izuku was coming… literally and figuratively!” both boys groan at this, making you scowl. what? it was a good joke! “besides, i was just congratulating my boyfriend for winning no nut november, again. you should be used to it by now, suki.”

katuski looks between you both, annoyance sweeping his face before he pinches the bridge of his nose and huffs. “couldn’t you congratulate him somewhere else? somewhere, where i didn’t have to be blinded and traumatised for the rest of my shitty life.”

this time, it’s your boyfriend who speaks up, standing with you in his arms. deku smirks evilly, pointing to the little green plant above your heads. “no can do kacchan, it’s dick destroyer december and there was no better way to start it, than under the mistletoe.”

izuku turns swiftly on his heel and makes a dash towards your bedroom before your best friend can threaten to blow you up, presumably to fuck you in your bed for this next round.

“fuck you guys!” he curses you out, watching you go.

“we’re already on it, have a great christmas, katsuki!” you sing back, just a deku slams your door shut and drops you onto your bed— already crawling on top of you.

you’d have to thank katsuki someday for challenging izuku back in freshman year, because without his newfound love for november— you wouldn’t have discovered your guilty pleasure for dick destroyer december.

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illicitlimerence-writes · 3 years

Text

close friends | t. holland

pairing: tom holland x fem!reader word count: 3.1k warnings: some language, some angst if u squint. otherwise it's just fluff and tom being tom. didn't proofread this. a/n: so tumblr decided to be a little bitch and deleted this t w i c e. so i had to write this t h r e e times. this came up in my head after i got like three notifications that tom posted something on his ig story, and then it turned out he deleted them. as always, english isn't my first language so i'm sorry if this gets confusing bye. also, i was listening to cardigan by taylor swift as i wrote this.

my masterlist

so we all know tom sucks at instagram. that's a surprise to literally no one. no matter how many times you tried to teach him he still doesn't get it, and it was only a matter of time before he finally posted something he shouldn't have.

it was just one of those days, you missed him like hell. he was away filming the third spiderman, and you had to stay behind because of work.

naturally, you relied on face time and texts to survive and fill the void he left behind. you loved talking to him, listening as he rambled on and on about his adventures on set. a love-struck look on your face as you tried your hardest to stay awake despite the urge to close your eyes.

eventually, sleep took over you, and you drifted off with the sound of his voice lulling you to sleep. he stopped talking abruptly when he didn't hear your soft chuckling in reply to the story he was telling.

instead, he saw your sleeping figure, long steady breaths moving your chest up and down. and he cursed himself for making you stay up so late for him. he took one last look at you, taking a screenshot of your sleeping form.

he quickly hung up the video call and opened instagram instead, uploading the screenshot to his story,

'missing my favorite girl, thank you so much for everything you do for me. x @yourusername'

the next morning you woke up to the sound of your phone buzzing. at first, thought someone had died as one notification after another filled your screen. most of them came from instagram, so you opened that app first.

thousands upon thousands of mentions, tags and new followers. you frowned, and suddenly a text from your friend popped up at the top of your screen.

'omg just saw his story. so happy for u both'

who's story? what was going on?

you refreshed your timeline, and tom's icon appeared, a colorful circle around it. an odd feeling sank in your stomach. you tapped his icon and suddenly your screen was full of... you.

a picture of you, sleeping. tom's smiling form in a small rectangle on the bottom right corner.

oh god. you read the words he wrote, over and over again. your heart pounding in your chest, and a sudden wave of fear ran through your body. but then you read his words once more, and all you could feel was love. pure, unconditional affection.

sure, your families and closest friends knew about you, but you hadn't talked about making your relationship public yet, but there was nothing you could do now.

you sighed, leaning back on your pillows. a small chuckle left your throat.

you grabbed your phone once again, quickly facetiming tom. you knew he had an early call today, and you hoped you could catch him while he was still in his hotel.

it ran once, twice, and then you saw him, hair all over the place, bare chest. hands rubbing sleep off of his face.

"mornin', darling." he said, his raspy morning voice making you smile.

"hi, baby. did i wake you?" you asked, sitting up and crossing your legs.

"yeah but it's fine, princess. i did keep you up last night so it's only fair."

"i'm sorry about falling asleep on you, that was a really nice picture you took last night," you lifted one eyebrow, and watched as he smiled at you sheepishly.

"i thought you looked really pretty, you always look pretty," he said, grabbing the water bottle on his nightstand and taking a swing.

"thanks, i hope the whole world thinks so, too," you declared. leaning your chin on your fist, watching him expectantly.

he did not react like you had expected him to.

his breath hitched as he sipped his water, and suddenly all you could see was the cream-colored ceiling, as you heard him spitting out and coughing.

"tom! oh, my god! are you okay?" you asked, getting on your knees and holding your phone up to your face, "tommy?" you repeated when he finally stopped coughing, you could now hear his heavy breaths.

at last, you saw his curls appear from the bottom of the screen.

"wh-what did you just say?" his voice was rough, his chest heaving.

"are you okay?" you asked again.

"ye-yeah i'm fine. babe, what did you mean by 'the whole world'? did something happen?" he asked, frowning. you echoed his expression, watching him for a second.

“you posted a picture to your story,” you repeated, and he nodded.

“yeah, i posted it to my close friends, i-” he stopped mid-sentence, eyes growing comically wide. “oh shit, did i-” he caught himself off as he threw the phone to one side, you heard him fumbling around for his laptop and you snorted. “shit, baby, don’t tell me i posted it… fuck!” you couldn’t keep it in any longer, you broke out laughing.

“of course this is how the world finds out about us!” you continued giggling until your stomach hurt.

“fuck, princess i’m so sorry, i didn’t mean to, i swear i- why are you laughing!?”

“tommy, tommy! it’s okay, baby, don’t worry. i’m not mad,” you stopped once you noticed his pouting. “it’s fine, my love, i don’t mind. sure it’s unexpected, and a little sudden but i wouldn’t have it any other way. i knew what i was getting into when we started dating,” you told him honestly, wishing you were there to give him a hug and kiss him all over.

“darling, i’m really, really sorry. i swear i thought i tapped the green button like you told me to” he continued his sulking, nervous eyes glancing back and forth from his laptop screen to you.

“i know, baby, i know this is not your forte, and i really appreciate the sweet gesture, honestly. i love you so much,” you told him as you bit your lip. folding your legs to your chest, wrapping one around them.

“god, i love you. i swear i’ll make it up to you,” he ran his hand through his hair, giving you a quick peek of his bare chest.

“i’ll hold you to it,” you chuckled, you glanced to the clock on your nightstand, sighing when you saw the time. “i’ve gotta go,” you said as you stood up and stretched. a wicked idea ran through you head. “i’ve got like five meetings today, so i’ll probably be busy most of the day. just in case i don’t reply or something,” you made up you lie quickly. grabbing your laptop and opening a new tab.

“oh, okay. i’ll be on set until like 1 am, so we’ll talk tomorrow?” he asked, eyes bright. you nodded, biting your lip.

“definitely. i love you,” you blew him a kiss. he smiled, and you felt your heart swelling.

“i love you, too. good luck today!” he said as you reluctantly hung up the call.

you immediately got to work, calling your assistant and telling her you were taking a few personal weeks, and to email you in case of emergencies. next, you texted harry, asking him to call you once tom was busy on set.

you waited for the page to load, and once you had bought your one-way ticket to atlanta you hurriedly threw some pre-planned outfits into two suitcases, just in case. your phone rang and harry’s face popped up on your screen. you quickly answered the call, and let him know of your out-of-the-blue plan. he agreed to meet you at the airport and drive you to set. and because of your recent and sudden rise to fame, he suggested you wear all black and a cap. you followed his advice, throwing on some sunglasses as well, as you had seen tom do many times before.

once you reached the airport and checked-in, you bought some coffee and breakfast, as well as some food for the flight. you opened instagram, seeing all the messages and comments. you had seen how the fans reacted when their favorite celebrities announced a relationship, and you knew to expect the meanest comments, and even death threats. for your own sake and peace of mind, you allowed yourself to scroll until you read three of those, and closed the app.

once the plane took off, you tried to catch some sleep, preparing for the inevitable jet lag, but your mind kept buzzing from one scenario to another. so you took out your book and tried to read some chapters, putting in your earbuds, music playing quietly.

when you finally, finally landed, you stretched your legs and grabbed your bags, putting on the cap and sunglasses again, you spotted a familiar head of wild curls. you quickly approached harry.

“what happened to all black and a cap to go unnoticed?” you asked as he took one of your bags in his hands.

“think about it, two kids wearing black, a cap and sunglasses? people would think we’re up to no good.” he gave you a tight hug, you’d missed him almost as much as you’d missed tom.

he caught you up on everything he and tom had been doing these past months, you shifted in your seat in excitement, the sleep that was slowly taking over you on the plane had now disappeared from your body.

in what was probably a 15 -but to you felt like five- minute drive, you got to the hotel to leave your bags and take a quick shower. harry left you alone in tom’s room, making his way to his own room next door. he said he’d order something for you to eat whilst you got ready to see tom.

you took the quickest shower ever known to humankind, and when you walked out of the bathroom after using tom’s shampoo and conditioner, -you’d missed his smell all over you. the few forgotten hoodies and shirts that were once drenched in the smell of his soap and cologne, were now very faint.- you wrapped a bathrobe around your body, rummaging through tom’s clothes until you found one of his shirts.

you pulled it close to your face, sighing at the familiar scent you’d missed so much. you got dressed quickly, grabbing your now fully-charged phone and the key to tom’s room that harry had left on a coffee table. you knocked on harry’s door and he let you in.

“i just texted tom, he says they’ve got like three hours left.” you sat next to him on the couch, the table in front of you filled with food waiting to be devoured.

“my poor baby, they overwork him,” you pouted, reaching for one of the plates.

“it was his idea, said he’ll do anything that helps finish filming sooner.” you stopped chewing your food.

“wait, really?” you asked in disbelief, you knew tom loved his job, and you found it odd that he wanted to cut his time on set short.

“yeah, it’s been rough for him. not having you around, i mean, after he spent months with you. he’s been pretty distracted lately. messing up lines, he’s been waking up late and missing early calls...” your heart sank at the words. you ate the rest of your food with a knot in your stomach, cursing yourself for not getting there sooner. soon enough, you were back in the car, your leg bouncing up and down. you fell asleep on your way to set, waking up when harry parked the car and nudged your shoulder.

you stepped out carefully, your head turning back every few steps you took, in fear that tom might catch you. once you reached the stage where tom was filming, you flashed the visitor badge harry had given you to the guard and he let you both in. you walked in as you leaned down, your forehead against harry’s back, shielding you from the curious stares. harry told you to hide behind a giant box where they kept some lights whilst he spoke to the director.

although the box was big and tall enough to cover you completely, you crouched down, straining your ears for nearing footsteps. you heard two sets of feet approaching, your heartbeat racing.

you were met with your accomplice, a friendly-looking man behind him. you stood up as they approached you.

“this the girl?” the man asked, and harry nodded, “nice to meetcha, i’m jon.” you shook his hand, “okay, so we’ve cleared tom’s schedule for one week, we’ll need him back fully recharged and ready to work like it’s his first day on set, you’re welcome to stay as long as you like, if it means he’ll work better if you’re here you can stay until we're done. i really don’t mind, i just need my guy back.” you blinked at his words, nodding slowly. “we’ve got a couple hours left tonight, i’m all up for some cheesy reunion, but it’ll have to be when we’re finished, i can barely keep him focused as it is.”

with that he left, and harry led you to tom’s trailer, where you caught some sleep while you waited. like that morning, you woke up to your phone buzzing. you reached for it, sleep leaving your body as you read the text.

‘just finished filming for the night, i’m exhausted. miss u, love you. x.’

all rational thoughts left your head, you opened the door to tom’s trailer and sprinted out of there until you reached the set. your eyes finally, finally met his figure, and tears filled your eyes.

your legs moved on their own accord, you mumbled apologies as you crashed into people, but you didn’t care. tom had his back to you, and even though he wasn’t wearing the spiderman costume, you’d recognize that ass anywhere.

“tom!” you called out, stopping a few feet away from him. you saw him whipping his head around, eyes scanning the sea of people. you made your way up to him, “tommy!” you repeated, and he finally turned around.

his mouth wide opened in disbelief, arms twitching, feet running towards you as you did the same. you crashed into each other, your legs wrapping around him, arms around his neck, fingers curling on his soft hair. his hands running all over your back, your hair. pulling you as close as humanly possible.

whispers of ‘i love you’, ‘god, i missed you’, ‘never leave me again’, and ‘i promise’ were exchanged. you tightened your hold on his hair, pulling back to look at him.

“hi,” you whispered, your nose brushing his.

“hey,” he replied, burying his face on your neck again, pressing small kisses anywhere he could reach. his hands settled on the back of your thighs as he spun you two. you giggled, sniffling as a few tears escaped your eyes.

you could not care less about the people around you, all you could think about was the boy wrapped all over you, your favorite boy. tom led you back to his trailer, where you finally untangled yourself from him. he settled you down and you immediately wrapped your arms around his waist, pulling him close to you again.

you had been starved of his touch for so long, there was no way you were letting him go anytime soon.

after many kisses, touches, tears, promises and more kisses, you left for the hotel. harry had already left, getting a ride from another cast member to leave you two alone. at that moment you swore you’d make him godfather of your firstborn child.

as you waited for tom to step out of the shower -you would’ve joined him, but three showers in a day seemed kind of excessive-, you laid down on the bed, throwing the covers over your body, tom's scent engulfing you. you breathed in happily. you tapped on your phone, replying to some work emails when you received a text from harry.

‘i believe the ball is in your court. you’re welcome.’

next, you received a picture of you and tom. harry must’ve taken the picture when you and tom were too lost in each other to even notice anyone around you. in the picture, your legs are around tom, bodies pressed closed together, your noses touching as you stare lovingly into each other’s eyes. it was a beautiful picture. and the black and white filter harry had applied to it made it seem like one of those old pictures of wives reuniting with their spouses after the war.

you smiled, heart swelling with emotion as you contemplated your options. you hummed quietly, tapping the instagram logo and waiting for the app to load.

you quickly uploaded the picture harry sent you tagging both him and tom and adding a quick caption before you shut down your phone. you were drifting off to sleep when you felt familiar arms around you.

you leaned into tom’s touch, your back resting against his chest, legs tangling with his as he interlocked his fingers with your own.

“thank you so much for being here, my love. i love you,” tom whispered into your ear, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“i’ll be here whenever you need me. i’ll always come back to you.” you turned around, facing him. you kissed the corner of his lips, and he cupped your cheek, his lips meeting yours in a slow kiss, filled with emotion. your fingers played with his fingers as you moved to straddle his waist. “i love you,” you broke the kiss reluctantly. as much as you both wanted to make love that night, you’d made it your top priority that tom took his time off to rest as much as he could, and that included that first night.

you gave him one last kiss, going back to your previous position. the familiar and comfortable weight of his arms around you, the feeling of his lips on your neck, his chest rising and falling against your back, you couldn’t ask for anything better.

the peaceful environment you had created suddenly burst like a bubble as tom’s phone pinged over and over again. you heard him grunting, arms reluctantly leaving you.

tom chuckled, putting his phone on do-not-disturb and throwing it somewhere on the bed.

“you’re perfect for me, my favorite girl.” you smiled, leaning into his touch as he kissed you all over. sleep quickly taking over both of you.

tom swore his heart stopped when he’d seen the picture you posted. you’d never looked more beautiful than when you were staring up at him, your bottom lip between your teeth. the words you wrote as a caption were the last thing on his brain as he finally succumbed to sleep.

‘i said, “i bet you can’t keep this a secret for five months.” he said, “darling, i won’t make it past three.” @ tomholland2013 it’s been 10 months, who won?’

edit: i just saw henry cavill's ig post and omg what is my life. pls respect celebrities' privacy and relationships.

#tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland fluff #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #peter parker #peter parker imagine #peter parker fluff #peter parker smut #peter parker fic #peter parker fanfic #tom holland fic #tom holland fanfic #marvel #mcu #avengers imagine

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teamfreewill56-blog · 3 years

Text

It Means Nothing

So I don’t EVER write fan fiction because I’m not good at writing other people’s characters and them being OOC drives me bonkers but I couldn’t get this out of my head.

KyojuroxReader SFW; slight angst? Y/N is also a Hashira

She breathed a sigh of relief seeing the Rengoku manor within walking distance, “Finally home Kyojuro, how is your shoulder?”

“It is a little sore but it will be all right. I’ve had worse.” He grinned. “If you hadn’t chopped his arm off at that last second I wouldn’t have had such a clean shot to cut off his head.”

“That’s enough praises out of you. I’ll help you rebandage it after we get cleaned up.” She pushed the doors to the estate open and let him go through first.

“Brother! Y/N!” Senjuro ran from an open room and jumped off the porch, running over to them he hugged Kyojuro who laughed and hugged him back. “You’re home! Thank goodness! Are you okay?”

“We’re back safe Senjuro!” Kyojuro assured him with a grin.

“I’m so glad! I missed you both!” He let go of Kyojuro and hugged Y/N, she hugged him back, “I missed you too.” She kissed his forehead and Kyojuro beamed, his heart filling with joy seeing how happy Senjuro was in her arms. Y/N softly stroked the young boy’s fire tipped hair, “You must have been lonely.”

“I...it’s been all right, I’m just glad you’re home, are you both okay? Are you hurt?”

Kyojuro’s stomach twisted seeing his little brother’s hesitation, and the reminder that he was in this big house practically all alone all the time. “I’m sorry Senjuro. And only a little scratch, nothing to worry about!”

“Oh! No, it’s okay brother, you’re fulfilling your duties as a Hashira, it’s important!” He moved back from Y/N’s hug and gazed up at his brother.

Kyojuro touched Senjuro’s cheek softly, “We’re done with our duties for a while, so we get to be home for a couple of days.”

“I’m glad, are you sure the wound isn’t bad? You’ll be okay?” Senjuro’s eyebrows creased.

“I promise.” Kyojuro beamed at him. “I smell something delicious, what are you cooking Senjuro?”

He smiled softly, “Sweet potatoes and salt grilled bream.”

“Wahoo! You are an amazing little brother!” Kyojuro walked towards the house, “I’ll be right back, I’m going to report to father. Go ahead and start without me!”

“Kyojuro wait,” she called after the Flame Hashira, remembering something that had been eating at her thoughts for some time now. Kyojuro turned to her, “Hm?”

“I want to meet with Shinjurou, after you’re done checking in that is.”

Kyojuro’s smile fell, she had never met with Shinjuoru, or even seen him. Despite spending most of her free time at the Rengoku Mansion when they weren’t on duty. Even when she had dinner with them Senjurou took his father’s food to his room for him, he didn’t join them. She of course knew the stories about him as the previous Flame Hashira, and Kyojuro after some time had been willing to tell her about his childhood, so she knew about his mother, she’d never seen the ex-Hashira. Even though she was a Hashira herself, and she and Kyojuro had been together for almost a year.

“Why?”

She gave him a sly grin, “To ask for your hand in marriage of course.”

Kyojuro’s face flushed, “W-WHAT!? But you’re not supposed to--”

She laughed as Senjuro stared up at her wide-eyed, “I’m kidding! I’m kidding!” Y/N ruffled Senjuro’s soft hair with both hands, “Besides, I’d ask Senjuro’s permission before anyone else’s.” She paused, “I’ve never properly introduced myself to him even once, I want to meet him face to face. He’s your dad and a former Hashira, it’s rude for me to come over and not greet him.”

“Those kinds of things don’t matter to him Y/N, there’s no need to greet him.”

“Brother’s right, and Dad’s been in a really bad mood lately…”

“I’m a Hashira, I’m not afraid of the bad temper of a fellow Hashira.” She met Kyojuro’s eyes, determined. “Please let me talk to him, Kyojuro.”

He nodded, “All right, come on then. We’ll be right back Senjuro!”

“Okay.” He answered timidly, “I’ll set the table.” She let him go and follow Kyojuro.

“What’s the real reason?” Kyojuro asked once they were both no longer in earshot. Y/N looked up at him with raised eyebrows but he was looking at her with a concerned expression.

“I’ll tell you afterwards, I can tell you’re wanting to talk me out of it, and I need to do this.” She paused and cupped his chin between her fingers, “No matter what happens, or what you hear, don’t come into the room. I don’t mind if you listen in, but I don’t want you in there. I don’t want him lashing out at you, I want his focus on me.”

“But it’s okay for him to lash out at you? Y/N-”

“I’ve endured worse than anything your father could ever do to me.” She pushed her fingers against his lips, “Kyojuro you can’t keep waiting for him to pick himself up, you’re an adult now, and he’s still lying in bed. He can’t break out of this alone. Besides, he’s not an evil monster, he’s just a man in pain.”

“You’re right.” He sighed, kissing her fingers he pulled them to the side and softly kissed her, she kissed him back.

“No matter what he says or what you hear, stay out. Just listen.”

“All right.” He rubbed his thumb against her cheek.

She kissed the inside of his palm and walked with him to Shinjurou’s room, she kneeled down outside the door and listened as Kyojuro gave his report and dismissed him. He looked back at her and she motioned for him to come out. Kyojuro bowed to his father’s back then stood and walked out. She walked into the room and slid the door shut behind her, keeping it open only a small crack. She walked over to the bed and kneeled down. She knew Kyojuro was kneeling right next to the door, and she just hoped he really would stay put. She took a deep breath, feeling the extra flow of her total concentration breathing constant and looked back at Shinjurou, staring out at the garden with an open book beside him and a jug of sake as well. The smell of the alcohol coated the room.

“Get out. I didn’t ask to speak to you.”

“No.” She answered calmly, “ Why did you tell Kyojuro that being the Flame Hashira means nothing?”

“Don’t back talk to me girl! What I tell my sons is none of your business!”

“It is my business when what you’re saying affects someone I love. Did you tell him that because being a Hashira didn’t provide you with a way to actually save her?”

Shinjurou grabbed his jug and hurled it at her. She let it hit her, “GET OUT OF HERE! WHAT DO YOU KNOW ABOUT IT!?”

She didn’t move, the jug shattered and covered her in sake, she kept her fists on her thighs, even though the jug hit her forehead it somehow missed striking her eyes. Eyes that she bore into Shinjurou with determination, his eyes widened as he realized she wasn’t dodging and had just taken it to the face. Blood cracked down her face, “I know that she had great pride in you as a Hashira and a Dad, because why else would Kyojuro work so hard to obtain it.” He reached for her and she grabbed his arm, not flinching, “I know how much it hurts to be so utterly helpless as the person you cherish fades away, and not being able to do anything. You feel like your entire body is being destroyed from the inside and it hurts so much to feel you’d do anything to be numb. To feel the poison in your chest every time you have to look at a true monster who’s still alive when you lost someone who was pure love and kindness and did nothing but good in their life.” She flattened her hand so it was resting against his, and placed her other hand on his wrist, his body shaking as he glared at her, “I know that she left you two amazing, beautiful sons that emanate her because everything Kyojuro does he does because of her. They’re not just your sons, they were hers too, they have her in them, and I can’t just sit by and keep watching you punish them for that by removing yourself from their lives and being so hostile towards them. How can you love her and yet be so cruel to the two people she blessed you with? The only two things in this whole world that are left of her? Your sons only have love for you, in spite of everything and you are the only person who can show them the full magnificence of their mother, she deserves to be allowed to still exist here, and I wish you would bring her back into their lives. I know you’re afraid of losing them, I can’t imagine how terrifying it must be for you every time Kyojuro leaves on an assignment. But you can’t protect him lying in here reading. You can’t be a bystander in his life and still hope to protect him.”

Shinjurou glared at her, frozen, but his eyes getting moist. She put her hands down and gently pulled herself from his grasp, “Excuse me.” She whispered, bowing before getting up and walking out of the room, not looking at him so she doesn’t see that he’s still frozen in place. She slid the door shut and looked down at Kyojuro who was staring into the room, tears in his eyes, he looked up at her, being brought back to the present as she moved the door. She kneeled down and gently cupped his face in her hands, wiping his tears away she gave him a gentle reassuring smile, now noticing that her body was shaking with the confrontation being over. She was feeling so many things she couldn’t quite figure out which feeling was making her tremble. She could tell Kyojuro was trying to figure out what to address first, her shaking, bleeding or that she was drenched.

“I’m fine, Tanjiro’s not the only one with a hard head, but some fresh clothes would be appreciated.” Kyojuro hugged her and led her to his room where he gave her one of Mitsuri’s old training outfits. She changed and then cleaned up her face, Kyojuro insisting on helping her bandage the cut running diagonally across the center of her forehead.

“Y/N you should have stopped it--I should have stepped in--”

“I needed to get my point across, and he needed to know I wasn’t trying to fight him.” She smiled, “I just hope he at least considers what I said. Your Dad is still alive, by some miracle given all the sake he drinks, and I just...I know you want your Dad back, and I want to do everything I can to bring him back to you. He might not listen to me still, but it was worth a shot.” She ran to the door, “Senjuro Kyojuro said he didn’t want his sweet potatoes and I can have them!” She grinned and ran out of the room.

“Hey wait a minute I did not! Senjuro don’t listen to her!” Kyojuro raced out of the room after her. He managed to get to the dining room just seconds after she did and tackled her, pinning her down, “Those are mine!” She hit him in the stomach with her knees knocking him off as Senjuro came into the room with a fourth plate. “I’ll be right back, I’m going to take--” Senjuro froze as he looked at the door, Shinjurou stood there, he looked at Y/N and Kyojuro. The pair immediately sat up properly.

“D-Dad?” Senjuro stuttered.

Link to Ch. 2: https://teamfreewill56-blog.tumblr.com/post/654545159409795072/it-means-nothing-ch2

#rengoku shinjuro #rengoku kyōjurō #kyojuro rengoku #kyojurou x reader #shinjurou rengoku #set your heart ablaze #fire pillar #flame hashira

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venusdere · 2 years

Text

yandere chrollo drabble

cw// blood, yandere chrollo, yandere reader, slight nsfw but only like 1 or 2 lines? death, mentions of murder

“you don’t mind that i’m like this… right?” you mumbled against chrollo’s chest. you refused to look up at him out of pure shame. anyone else would have ran away by now, the fact that he stayed in the room with blood stains splattered across spoke volumes to you. any of your past lovers would have either stared in shock or called you insane, either way they would be on their deathbed soon after discovering your… habit. it was always such a shame to see them go, you cried your heart out when you were forced to kill the ones that claimed to love you.

they just didn’t understand that your love was intense and pure, your loyalty was undivided. they had to die, they needed to if they couldn’t grasp the concept of your love. they weren’t worthy of such a grand display of affection.

Chrollo chuckled, his right hand now placed on the back of your head as he scratched your hair. “not at all, my beloved,” he took a deep inhale, the scent of death felt so lovely when encased with your aura, “(y/n), this is truly the best case-scenario i could imagine.” a small grin found its way to chrollo’s face as he spoke, imagining how many you’ve killed all for the sake of his love. you pulled away from his chest, tears were sliding down your precious face. chrollo still held you as if you were made out of glass.

“do you mean it?” you whispered, “you’ll still be my darling?” a hint of hope evident as your eyes widened.

you’re absolutely precious in his eyes. you’re too good to be true. and the best part? he knew damn well that you viewed him in the same exact manor. you’re perfect. chrollo leaned in and kissed your forehead gently, a small chuckle escaping his soft lips. lips that you wished were against your neck and chest.

“i’ll always be your darling, my sweet (y/n). no one will take my spot, is that understood?” you could practically feel the dopamine rushing through your body. you nodded rapidly. tears of anxiety and sadness were replaced by that of joy. “i’ve already killed for you as well my beloved, nothing will tear you apart from me.”

“you’ve killed for me?!” you boomed out in excitement. the pure happiness on your face was unmistakable. you didn’t mean to be so loud, but the idea of chrollo understanding and even having your same sense of love and adoration- well, there’s only one conclusion you could come to.

“are you my soulmate, darling?” chrollo relished in the sweet sound of your voice. gods, he wanted to listen to you speak anything and everything for hours. the genuineness in your question went straight to his dick, a twitch that you clearly felt considering how close your bodies were. your heart raced, even his typically well composed body gave away at how much he wanted you at this moment.

“if we’re not soulmates, i fear that they simply wouldn’t exist. let me help you get rid of this body, we’ll continue this conversation at home, beloved.”

#yandere chrollo lucilfer #yandere chrollo x reader #chrollo my beloved #chrollo x reader #yandere #tw//death #tw// blood

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saabbi · 3 years

Text

Regret part 7

Warmth in the freezing snow

Genshin Impact Adeptus!reader au

warnings: light angst?, mentions of drugging and syringes, probably messy, crappy quality

words: ~2.8k

Notes: series is resuming after the hiatus. I had a hard time writing this chapter (because I suck at writing) so I really hope this chapter didn't turn out to be too messy and confusing. ao3 series link

[previous] [next]

Stepping out the ship, you’re immediately greeted by the harsh and nostalgic icy cold breeze. Pure white snowflakes that dance around your vision and the pile of soft snow beneath your feet tells you that you’re back in Snezhnaya.

You asked a subordinate to help you deliver the lantern you had bought for Teucer and obediently followed another Fatui member, who guided you to the chamber where the Tsarista is patiently waiting for your arrival.

“Your highness, I have returned.” You kneeled down on one knee, head lowering to pay your respects. The Tsarista’s ice cold gaze pierces you, making you anxious on why she summoned you.

“My loyal subject.” a voice so calm and quiet, barely to be heard, yet crystal clear and reverberates around the shallow and empty hall, sending a chill down your spine. You look up upon her call, acknowledging that she remains ever so strikingly breath-taking, as resplendent as the most exquisite flower, as elegant as Snezhnaya’s never-melting snow.

“Dottore has found a way to further enhance the capabilities of Fatui, and your aid is needed to achieve it.” She walks closer to you with each step, stopping just before your kneeled figure.

“To achieve it, your aid is necessary. I trust that you will provide all the help Dottore needs dutifully, yes?” A simple question, but her tone indicates that she does not accept rejection as an answer.

“Yes, of course.” The Tsarista seems delighted at your answer, resting her chilly hand on your cheeks and lightly caressing it with her thumb. The subtle intimate gesture however, was nothing resembling that of affection. The Tsarista’s sharp gaze remains fixated on you, yet it doesn’t feel like she’s properly looking at you at all. Her gaze has always been like that, as if she’s looking for something deeper in your soul, but not your existence.

“Dottore, come in. The final mission of our primeval harbinger shall now be performed.” The coldness on your cheeks is replaced by the sudden gushes of wind, the words leaving the Tsarista’s mouth leaving you off guard as you abruptly shot your head up.

“...Your highness? What does that-” Cut off by a harsh slam of the door, you turn to the entrance only to reveal a masked man with curly blue locks- Dottore. The condescending smirk spreading on his face as he meets your wary eyes sets off alarms in your head, screaming that this man is up to no good.

Your hand immediately reaches towards the hilt of your sword resting on your hips, ready to draw it out if he makes any suspicious movements. Furrowing your eyebrows and eyeing Dottore’s every move, unsure of what he would do.

“Relax, relax. This is all under the Tsarista’s orders, doesn’t do too much harm...I guess?” Dottore, now casually twirling a syringe filled with a dangerous-looking fluid, puts his hands up in the air in a placating manner, but his halfhearted response only makes you glare at him cautiously.

“I will have to question you on what you’re about to do, Dottore.” It’s all under the Tsarista’s orders, and you thought it would just be something about training new Fatui recruits, but Dottore’s behaviour insinuates that there is much more than that, and seems like the syringe is to be used on you.

“Oh this? Haha! I’m not quite sure, maybe knock you out for a bit? Y’know, draw out your adeptal powers to the maximum potential, I weaponise it, and voila! Fatui gets a new upgrade! Wonderful plan right?”

Dottore sure made it sound like no big deal, but you know that’s not all the catch. Because if it’s about your adeptal powers, then surely, the Tsarista’s intention is to-

“You’d better not do any stupid movements with your sword, yeah? It would be bad if you were to go against her highness’ orders, after all, you are her most loyal subordinate. Unless… you plan to commit treachery?” Dottore leered as your grip on the sword tightens, conflicted on what to do.

Reluctantly, you peered over to the Tsarista, who has not said a word at the impasse and tense situation between you and Dottore, silently watching everything unfold before her. The Tsarista’s glacial smile never fades as she meets your gaze, not giving you a definite response, but perhaps acknowledging Dottore’s words.

“That’s… not all there is to this, is it?” Despite your loyalty to the Tsarista, this question must be raised for your own sake. Adeptal energy has always been a rather sensitive subject to both you and the Tsarista, with you knowing that she has always wanted to utilise your mysterious powers to help her achieve her goals.

“Quite the sharp one huh? Well I suppose there’s no use beating around the bush, I’ll do you the favour in telling you this- Your adeptal energy is to be drained completely for us to use, ahahaha!” A fit of manical laughter jolted through him, his atrocious appearance matching his abhorrent personality.

“And that would leave me...vulnerable and powerless?” The appalling smirk that makes you want to throw up, the messed up plan that makes you want to run away from the Tsarista’s chambers.

“B i n g o! You neither have a vision nor delusion, so without those powers, you’re pretty much useless.” Dottore approaches you, barely stopping in front of you. Lowering his voice, he mumbled into your ears, “and you’ll be thrown away by the Tsarista, officially being useless to her. I’m sure you know by now, that all her highness cares about is that adeptal energy of yours, and not you yourself?” even at such a low volume, his mockery towards you can clearly be heard.

Of course you knew, that all the Tsarista’s interested in is your mysterious powers. It doesn’t take a detective to figure out her intentions in bringing you to her nation. Even after millennia of you serving her with your utmost loyalty, all she has taken interest in is your powers.

The cold Tsarista that requested you like an object from Morax as a trade of peace, and never paid you much attention. The Tsarista who only shows you some form of affection and addresses your name when she needs you to carry out her plans. To her, it was obvious that you are a mere chess piece, for her to attain her grand goals.

Despite knowing this, you still turned your head once more towards the Tsarista, locking gazes with her, searching for something that even you yourself wasn’t sure what you’re looking for in her eyes, but to no avail, the same empty eyes with no any sort of emotion returning your disappointment. That is how little you meant to her.

It has always been, a foolish hope of yours, to believe that one day, if you stay by her side long enough, you would become a figure that holds much more place in her heart. But that has never been the case, her icy heart never had space for you, locking you out. She has enough love for all the other harbingers, all except you.

The best course of action right now, is to draw out your blade and resist against the Tsarista. You have to defend yourself, you have to get out alive and well, because you promised Zhongli, Xiao, and Ganyu to return. You have to unsheathe your sword right this instant.

But your hands remain frozen, disobeying your commands and desperate internal cries. It should be simple, to protect yourself against those who could not care less about your existence and never acknowledging you, and flee to Liyue. So why can’t you bring yourself to do so?

Because it would mean that you’re defying the person whom your loyalty is dedicated to, denying the Tsarista’s ambitions.

The same Tsarista who ripped you apart from your family, but also the one who gave you a new identity, and a new place to call home, giving you a reason to live on by serving her.

And you who watched over her carefully throughout your lifetime; when she became obsessed with the idea of bringing down celestia, to the point where delusions are invented just for the sole purpose of resisting against the sacred land where gods are rumoured to reside.

You never found out the reason behind her obstinacy in bringing down celestia, but you stayed beside her long enough to witness her desire for power and authority to continue to expand into a bottomless abyss, and the times when she struggled.

Times when her immature plans backfired, times she felt livid and Snezhnaya would be in raging blizzards for weeks, times when she doubted her own decisions. You were always there, by her side and ready to jump into action whenever she needed you to.

Through trial and error, she learned to develop well thought-out plans after calculations and taking precautionary measures, and recruited talented individuals. The harder she falls, the higher she bounces. She was undeniably a dazzling existence to you.

The Tsarista is a blinding lone star that continues to glisten even if other stars have faded, showing its resistance towards the devouring night sky. Someone so cruel and brutal, yet ever so resplendent, that you couldn’t peel your eyes off her.

A star that defies the night sky.

And you, who only knew how to live under orders and pretty much lived a tedious life besides carrying out Fatui duties, are dull and have long succumbed to darkness.

So how could you deny her? The one who never faltered, the flames of ambition that refuses to die out no matter what? You couldn’t bring yourself to betray her even at this very moment, because you have watched over her for far too long.

“This turned out to be rather...disappointing.” Seeing you loosening your grip on the sword and putting down your defenses, Dottore scoffs.

You take a sharp inhale, making up your mind. Regretfully, your decision is to stay loyal to the Tsarista and faithfully do as she wishes up until the very end. A very foolish decision even you are aware of, and one that makes your heart scream in agony knowing that you’re once again being thrown away. Even so, this is the path you have chosen.

Drained, you felt. It felt as if your powers erupted all at once, and got sucked dry by a vacuum cleaner and left to die on the road. Your role as the twelfth harbinger has been dismissed, now just an identity-less wanderer. The Tsarista truly is a cruel person, you thought, to just throw you out and let you crawl away all by your own whilst surrounded by nothing but coldness and snow, knowing that you right now are incredibly weak and vulnerable. She didn’t even have someone to escort you to a shelter, simply took away your harbinger identification with the usual eerie smile.

But archons do you feel horrible, dizzy and nauseous, on the verge of passing out. Now that you’ve lost your place, where would you go? Tired, cold and nowhere to go, you lean on a nearby bark to grab a hold of yourself, trying figure out what to do from now on.

Slumping down and shutting your eyes, you are forced to face your own emotions that you have repressed in the Tsarista’s chambers. Your heart aches so much, the strong pulsations being the only thing resounding in your ears, it hurts more than how your body is right now.

What a pathetic destiny you face, to be thrown away whom you trusted and served twice in your lifetime. It hurts so much, your heart continuously screams to you, not forgiving the way you hurt it so severely. So pathetic, you are so pathetic, you thought.

Even after millennia, you still never found a place you truly belonged to, your miserable and pathetic self was not accepted anywhere. You know very well the Tsarista has always been using you, yet facing the harsh reality is not as easy as you thought.

Wouldn’t it be better if the abyss consumed you? To be embraced by darkness and vanish, not having to face pointless emotions and drama? If only your eyes never opened back from the first time you dirtied your own hands, and instead swallow by the cold and hungry arms of demise- if you only died back then, would you still have to face such circumstances?

“...Hey, comrade.” a light whisper of a familiar voice enters your ears, dragging you back from your thoughts. You looked up at the one who called for you, only to find your vision blurry and cheeks feeling wet and cold. You didn’t even realise droplets of tears had trickled down your cheeks, you are even surprised that you’re capable of crying, you hadn’t shed a tear, let alone cry out loud for so long that you had forgotten how it felt.

Childe crawls closer, slowly wrapping you into a warm hug and gently strokes you on the head like how he has treats his siblings. You feel embarrassed to be comforted by someone much younger than you and being treated like a child, but returned the hug nonetheless. Not knowing how much you needed a hug, you find his embrace to be pleasant and safe.

“There’s a ship heading to Liyue, so let’s get you home to where it’s warm and safe, yeah?” Home, Childe said, you wanted to retort, but somehow ‘home’ and ‘Liyue’ just sounded right. Is it okay if you return there? To seek asylum?

“Come on comrade, it’d be devastating if you missed the ride!” slumping your weak arms over his shoulders and a hand on your waist to support you, lifting you onto your feet to lead you to the harbour.

“I-I’m sorry for what happened, and that I...I couldn’t help you. If I had known what Dottore was scheming, I would have talked to the Tsarista and convince her not to adopt such a brutal method.” His cheery voice is replaced by one with remorse, avoiding your eyes.

“I didn’t know Dottore came up with such an outrageous method, the Tsarista didn’t inform us of her plan! I- I should’ve known Dottore was up to no good! I could’ve done something-” Getting agitated, his speech hastens and stumbles over his own words.

“Hey, hey. Calm down, you know it’s not your fault.” You cut him off, giving him a soft slap on the back. “The Tsarista had such plans a long time ago, she just...never found the right methods until today, I guess.”

Somehow, it only made Childe feel even worse, guilt and sympathy all shown on his face.

“Come on, where’s your usual jolly self? A gloomy expression doesn't suit you at all. Teucer and Tonia will be worried for their #1 toymaker of Snezhnaya.” you mustered a feeble smile, assuring him that you’re fine.

“Well, never thought I’d hear you crack a joke after all these years…” Childe’s lips curve into a relieved and playful smile. Although, you have to admit, it does makes you feel better knowing that he’s worried for you.

“This is the Crux, you might’ve seen their crew around Liyue before. I spoke with the captain, and it’s a huge relief that she accepted our request!” You and Childe stumbled into the guest room that is kindly lent to you, with Childe immediately helping you get on the bed and wrapping you in blankets.

“You had a not-so-pleasant eventful day, it’s best if you warm up and rest now. I can’t go back with you, but I’ve contacted Zhongli, he should be there to pick you up when you arrive.” with a soft tone, Childe picks up your hand and gently strokes your palms, taking a note of your pale complexion, you remind him of his siblings when they were sick. He turns to leave you alone, about to close the door.

“Hey, Childe?” He abruptly stops and turns back to you with a concerned look, worried if you’re still feeling unwell and perhaps he could help.

“Thank you.” but only two simple words came out of your mouth. So simple and short, but more than enough to convey the gratitude and respect you held for him.

Childe breaks into a beaming smile, “Of course! We’re friends after all, right comrade? I think I’m even your best friend!” to which you chuckled. Yeah, you suppose he isn’t wrong on that.

Just before he closes the door completely, he halts and opens his mouth, “Teucer adored your gift, he and Tonia wanted to prepare something in return… I’ll bring it to you next time, yeah? And perhaps drink tea too at Zhongli’s?”

“Yes, I shall look forward to dear Teucer and Tonia’s gift then, it’s a promise.” You feel your consciousness slip away, closing your eyes and replying to Childe with a light smile on your face.

“It’s a promise!” He enthusiastically replied, only to realise he should tone it down to let you sleep in peace. “Sweet dreams, comrade.” Just before passing out on your bed, you hear Childe’s almost inaudible reply and a click on the door shutting close.

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characteroulette · 3 years

Text

well all rightie then, it’s time to analyse how DGS1 handles grief really well in my opinion

(once again, spoilers for all of DGS1)

(also some spoilers for the original trilogy games) (and a little of DGS2)

okay So my thesis statement here is that Asougi’s character in DGS1 is the vessel through which Ryuunosuke and Susato’s grief is explained. Everything about how they relate to Asougi is their dealing with their grief in a simple message: Loss hits hard, but you have to continue to live and love. Life Goes On, shaping that grief into yourself if you allow it.

We start off with Case 1 as our baseline. The set-up. It’s a routine to show what life is like for Ryuunosuke before tragedy. (Fitting for an AA protagonist to have their baseline of normal being accused of murder.) This case does a really, really good job of setting up Asougi as our friend, our partner, whom we might spend the rest of the game with.

(I mean, the death flag’s kinda obvious if you’re genre-savvy; the mentor must die so that the student may grow into their own. But Asougi’s so likeable! He’s confident, genuine with Ryuunosuke, comfortably teasing, and looks at you with the same eyes as Klavier. What’s not to love? Also that small hint of something deeper is so tantalising that for it to go unresolved is pretty unthinkable.)

It’s important for us to see how much Asougi means to Ryuunosuke, how much the two really are best friends. This set-up is pivotal to what happens next in Case 2: the drop.

The way Ryuunosuke reacts to learning about Asougi’s death is real. He tries to deny it at first, can’t bring himself to believe it. Especially since he’s been accused of the crime! But the moment he sees that photo of Asougi that Sherlock took, that’s where the truth of it hits and he can’t run from it anymore. All he can do is try to push past that biting grief to at least solve his friend’s murder and set things right.

Susato’s own grief is portrayed really well here, too. She’s so angered and clouded by it that she totally ignores the fact that Asougi and Ryuunosuke are best friends and believes Ryuunosuke to be the murderer. Really, she just blames Ryuunosuke because it’s easier that way, since the wound cuts just as deep for her.

What really strikes me, though, is how the whole case isn’t just a one-note misery. Like real life, the two slip into sadness when they remember their dear friend, but they’re still able to joke around. They still get upset or sarcastic or excited. Because, though their grief affects them immensely, the message is that life continues. It can’t just stop for them like it did for their friend; life goes on. Not out of malice, but out of necessity.

Also, the way Sherlock acknowledges their grief is pretty great. That felt hugely validating to me, how he tells them that their mourning is important and how his jovial, joking tone was never properly taking that into account. The way he continues breaking in at the end to lighten the mood, too, is his own genuine way of trying to help, exhausting though he may be. It’s appreciated, at the least, to keep us the players from breaking down into tears as the conclusion rolls with no real satisfaction at the mystery being solved.

That final conversation between Susato and Ryuunosuke, at least, is hugely cathartic to make up for that. It sounds like it should feel rushed, honestly, dealing with the majority of the grieving process in just Case 2, but it doesn’t at all. It seems properly healthy, like the two are doing their best by confiding and taking comfort in one another in order to celebrate Asougi’s goals, to keep going where he can’t. Ryuunosuke and Susato both form their resolve here to continue to live, not just for Asougi, but for themselves as well. For life’s sake.

Because, again, life goes on.

(A brief tangent: Seeing the contrast of this story versus the original trilogy is also a really neat sort of view into Shu Takumi’s growth as a writer. Or the AA series’ growth as a whole. How Edgeworth handled his grief by never really acknowledging it in AA1, how he basically ran away from it by refusing to live as a sort of punishment against himself, is really sad. Then Phoenix handling his grief in JFA by turning to anger and resentment is just as heartbreaking. Phoenix disavows himself from it, trying to spare himself the pain by denying it, which only hurt him more and he had to have everyone around him break him out of that awful mindset. Then in T&T it’s Godot’s grief which drives the plot, as he turns his anger on Phoenix unjustly. He blames Phoenix for Mia’s death and lashes out at everyone instead of allowing himself the time to properly grieve.

And then DGS1 comes along to say that maybe the answer is just that life goes on and we have healthier ways to reconcile with our grief and it’s just real neat to see!)

In Case 3 and 4, we can see through Ryuunosuke’s discussion with Lord Vortex (/Stronghart) the continuation of his handling this grief. It’s a burden, one Ryuunosuke doesn’t fully understand, but he fervently takes upon himself because we want to live for those we’ve lost. (It is the Wright way, the Naruhodou way, to take on the aspirations of the friends you’ve lost. To mimic their mannerisms, their ambitions, in order to keep them close to your heart.)

(That’s a whole other can of worms I could dive into, honestly, how their decision to give Ryuunosuke all of Phoenix’s poses for the whole ancestor vibe while ALSO making it clear that Ryuunosuke took them from Asougi to begin with, it’s just. It’s good, it’s perfect, it’s the same brand of gay the series is known for and I’m love it.)

You also see, as the trial of Case 3 progresses, how Ryuunosuke is basically just living off of ‘what would Asougi do?’ as Susato coaches him along and it’s fun and bittersweet all the way through. Case 4 is where he gains more confidence in himself, but he still defaults to thinking of Asougi’s unwavering trust in him to help him and every time it’s handled with tenderness and shows just how much Ryuunosuke loved his friend.

And, if you’re like me and take every opportunity to examine Asougi’s badge and present it to Susato (/others), you see how they continue to grow with their grief. It starts off with both of them being unable to say much, still weighed down heavily by Asougi’s loss. Though they are continuing and life goes on, it’s still a wound too fresh to approach and hard for them to properly explain.

By Case 5, though, the two of them are more conversational. They’ve found their words, they’ve mended that wound as much as possible so that life won’t leave without them. It still hurts, of course, but it’s easier to think about. It’s easier to reconcile when they’ve been working hard and making friends and continuing to live. It’s small, but the progression is there and I really appreciate it.

Speaking of Case 5, though, everything about this one, in regards to Asougi, is pure catharsis. It really is like they’re looking their grief right in the face and accepting it as a part of themselves. Ryuunosuke looks back on his friend not just with fondness, but with gratefulness that Asougi could make such a big impact on his life.

(This is similar to the whole Phoenix and Mia thing, I feel, since Phoenix often thought of his mentor with the same sort of tone. At least, I think so. Remarkable how Phoenix’s grief can mirror the finalised version of Ryuunosuke’s with the help of spirit channeling! /joke)

Ryuunosuke and Susato have etched Asougi into their hearts and their persons and it’s just really, very good I like it a lot.

(okay time for a few paragraphs on DGS2 and Asougi)

Case 1 one DGS2 is a neat look into Susato’s mind and thought process. You can definitely tell she’s still just a 16-year-old with the mistakes she makes and how she tries to handle her own arguments, which is very cute. We also get to see her actually talking to Asougi’s grave and then see how her own relationship with Asougi has influenced her style (/poses) and aspirations. (Ryuunosuke, too. It’s cute to see how she’s ended up a mixture of both of them.) And it’s a great rug pull moment for the player, since the way that the grief is handled in DGS1 is so good and (almost) final that hearing Asougi might not actually be dead is a bit like digging up old wounds. I mean, we went the entirety of the first game coming to terms with his death, what do you mean his body went missing??

(Case 2 serves as a reminder. Like haha remember how Susato and Ryuunosuke both love Asougi and are sad about his death? Here’s the baseline again, get ready to have it wrecked!)

And Case 3 is phenomenal, too. The way Van Zieks is so understanding in his response to showing him Asougi’s badge is just. It’s perfect, he’s so gentle and empathetic that it shocks Ryuunosuke (even though Ryuunosuke did the same understanding and concern for Van Ziek’s situation Ryuunosuke please). Then the way that Ryuunosuke sees Asougi, disguised in a cloak and mask, and immediately recognises him. To me, that really shows how much he loved his friend. He knew Asougi for about a year and it’s been about nine months since Asougi’s death, yet Ryuunosuke recognises him just by the way he carries himself.

But, to him, Asougi is dead. He’s made peace with that. So, even if it plays on his mind, he can’t allow himself to think that. He puts it out of his mind completely and doesn’t think on it again.

At least, until Susato (who reacted very realistically by shutting down the possibility that Asougi might still be alive because that means Sherlock lied and she couldn’t take having that hope break her worse than before) sees the exact same thing just as immediately and shouts after him. The fact that they both see this disguised man and know it can be no one besides Asougi is insane. It’s love. It makes me cry, I wish they could’ve hugged him during the big reveal (though I know Japanese culture’s just not like that).

Anyway, DGS2 diatribe over. Back to the conclusion.

The whole of DGS1 is just a masterful example of how grief doesn’t have to destroy you, of how life can go on and that doesn’t have to be a bad thing, and how channeling that grief into motivation to keep their memories alive can be powerful. That it’s okay to still feel grief even as you heal, that it’s okay to have fun and keep living even as you mourn. Life is a mixture of levity and tragedy and, to me, DGS1 nails that mixture with perfection.

Absolutely legendary. Join me next time when I dive into the main theme of DGS2, which is literally ‘the dead will come back to life to haunt you’ thanks for coming to my essay talk

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