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yutasbellybuttonpiercing · 1 month

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- canine, but mine (pt. 1: acquaintances)

pairing: huang renjun x reader

au/genre: hybrid!au, fox hybrid!renjun, human!reader, virgin!renjun, smut, fluff, angst (?), the au is kinda unserious

don't like it, don't read it, okay... *sighs*

also, don't publicly shame me for any inaccuracies. i admittedly do not ready many (read: any) hybrid fics...

word count: 2860 words

warnings: HYBRIDS!, bullying, comforting, petting (not the sexual kind), semi-public diddling, mentions of virginity, cumming untouched, the base of renjun's tail is very sensitive......., sub!renjun ig

a/n: happy renjun day! 🦊

taglist: @jaeminnanaaa17 @i6renj

Ever since Renjun remembers, life has not been kind to him. Born not out of love between two people, but created in a laboratory for scientific research purposes, born not to be a part of society, but as an experiment for a potential weapon; part animal, part human, but not really part of either of those worlds.

Only after hybrid-rights-protests forced the government to take action against hybrid experiments, he was freed; free, but not really free, because that he'll never be. Instead, unloved by his creators that he could never bring himself to call parents, he continued growing up in a foster home, surrounded by kids that were nothing like him, kids that looked different than him, and kids that did not believe in the concept of "thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself". The days he was not kicked by them, he was at least laughed at, mocked, or judged.

Renjun, objectively, knows that it's not his fault that he looks different, that he is different. He was just born, or rather: brought to life, with a set of orange fox-like ears on top of his fluffy, brown hair, a soft, bushy tail, tiny little fangs, and claws that he always keeps neatly trimmed to not accidentally hurt anyone.

The bullying did not stop when he started going to school, nor did it lessen the older he got. Kids are mean, Renjun knows that by heart, and he's never even had a friend. When he was 14, the girls in his class dared each other who would be brave enough to "kiss the freak", when he was 16, people started inviting him on dates only to laugh at him with their friends when he showed up all excited, and when he finally finished school and started going to university, he thought it would all be different. To be fair, he was no longer pushed into lockers, he was no longer spat at and people stopped pulling at his tail for fun, but the mocking did not stop. And even when he met another hybrid, a popular, big white tiger hybrid, he didn't receive any sympathy. God how he wishes to at least be a cool, strong hybrid, like a lion or a bear... or even a wolf! Why did they have to make him a stupid fox...

Ever since that day, he's told himself one thing: you're going to work hard, get through university and get a good job in the big city... where there are lots of hybrids and lots of supporters.

At this point, Renjun is fairly used to the bullying. With his goal in mind, he doesn't fight it, he just lowers his head, his ears laying flat against his fluffy hair as he waits for it to be over. He guesses that people are just not ready for hybrids yet.

One can only imagine his upmost shock when on the first day of the new semester, someone willingly sat down next to him. Admittedly, you were 5 minutes late and there were no other seats available, but you didn't beg anyone to please scoot over just so you didn't have to sit next to the weird guy with the tail. Renjun vividly remembers this day in philosophy class, as the professor went on and on about Henri Bergson and how the sand wasp instinctively knows where to sting the caterpillar to paralyze it, while Renjun was just smitten by the girl sitting next to him without gagging.

Unable to talk to you, he was just sitting there, smiling shyly to himself at this small act that seemed so big to him. He remembers almost falling off his chair in shock as you "psst!"-ed at him and awkwardly asked for a pen since you forgot yours. He remembers having to pinch himself as you smiled and thanked him, and told him you thought his shirt was cute. He remembers looking around in case you weren't really talking to him as you said, "see you next week!"

And when in the following weeks, you kept sitting down next to him even though there were other seats available, he was almost sure this had to be a dream. But it wasn't, and when during the third lesson, you softly asked for his name, he was this close to bursting into tears.

A few weeks into the semester, Renjun is currently sitting at the library, trying to memorize the different forms of utilitarianism. As always, he's sitting in a separate study room that he booked just for himself – a precautious attempt to not get made fun of as he's trying to concentrate. He crosses out his second attempt of trying to spell deontology correctly as he notices someone passing by the glass door to his study room. A moment later, the person backs up and looks inside, and he realizes it's you.

His heart stops for a moment as you begin smiling and waving at him, and he slowly lifts his hand to mimic the action hesitantly. Of course, you take that as an invitation to come in.

You close the door after slipping inside, still talking in a low tone as not to disturb anyone outside.

"Hey~" you say and sit down across from Renjun. He smiles and bites his lip nervously, "hey."

"You here all alone?" You ask softly, "is it okay if I sit with you?"

Renjun blushes. He knows you didn't think anything of it, but mentioning his lack of acquaintances is a bit of a sore spot for him.

"Sure... if you want," he says shyly, still not completely trusting that you're not going to turn this all around and make fun of him.

"Only if it doesn't bother you," you smile, "I'll be super quiet, promise!"

His smile is getting more genuine as you talk so casually to him. He just starts feeling a bit more comfortable, when sudden movements in front of the glass door make his head lift up.

A group of guys is standing there, pressing their faces against the door, clearly mocking his fox ears with their hands behind their heads. His heart sinks, he should've known this was going to happen today, it always happens when he's out in public.

"What-" you ask, noticing the pained look on his face and the way his ears are pointing down as he feels a wave of shame overcome him. You turn around, taking in the group of guys who're still silently making fun of the fox hybrid. "What the fuck..."

Renjun's ears twitch in surprise as you stand up, and he waits anxiously for what's about to happen. You rip open the glass door, lifting your finger into their face before speaking to them, hushed but still loud enough for a few people to lift their heads. "What the fuck is wrong with you? Did your mom not teach you manners? You should be ashamed of yourselves, you're university students, cut the crap with your preschool bullying, you fucking assholes," you tell them, and Renjun's eyes widen comically. You... you're standing up for him? For him?!

"If I see you doing this one more time, I'll get you kicked off campus... Now go back to being worthless idiots somewhere else. Leave him alone, I swear to God..." you say before closing the door, flipping them off, pulling down the blinds, and heading back to Renjun. To Renjun's upmost surprise, the guys actually left, and looking embarrassed at that, possibly because you just made one hell of a scene – and it's probably the sexiest thing Renjun's ever witnessed.

You sit down again, this time next to him. "You okay?"

Renjun breathes out shakily, ears twitching, tail swaying back and forth nervously. He's not sure what to make of this, someone standing up for him, it has never happened to him before. And before he can stop himself, he blurts out the question he's been asking himself since the moment your ass cheeks touched the surface of the chair next to him in that first philosophy lesson. "Why are you so nice to me?"

You halt, furrowing your brows. "Why wouldn't I be?"

He seems even more confused by that answer. "Um... You know, I'm a hybrid? Maybe you find that weird?"

You blink at him, "why is that weird?"

"Don't you... think I'm weird?" He asks. "Odd? Repelling? Freaky? Off-putting?? Anything???" He keeps listing adjectives as you keep shaking your head no. "Why... would you stand up for me?"

"I just don't like bullies," you state nonchalantly, "plus you're really cute."

Renjun's eyes bulge out of their sockets, tail curling up so suddenly that he feels like he's almost broken something in there. Maybe you're an animal friend, maybe that's all he is to you? "Cute? Like the fox parts or...?"

"Everything about you is cute. The fox parts are cute, but you'd still be cute without them."

Renjun just stares at you. This can't be real. He pinches the palm of his hand several times without you noticing, but he's just not waking up. If this is a dream, which he's almost certain it has to be, he could do anything he wants right now... like making your head explode- just to be sure! He concentrates greatly on it, but your head stays intact. He gives up. "You're not disgusted?"

"What?!" You look utterly confused, then your features soften into a look of concern. "Are people... usually disgusted by you?"

He nods without hesitation. "Usually, they just point and laugh, sometimes it even gets worse than that..." Renjun can't even bring himself to cringe as you put on a brave expression and tell him you're going to protect him from now on, because this is honestly the best thing that's ever happened to him. His heart melts at your words and it's hard to believe he's actually being comforted. There are no jokes being thrown around, no mockery, not even any pity. For once, Renjun feels like there's someone who wants to protect him. His lower lip quivers slightly as he holds back tears, and without thinking, he leans forward and places his head on your shoulder.

He hears you coo quietly, lifting your hand to his back and pulling him closer. "Is... is it okay if I stroke your hair?"

Renjun closes his eyes and nods. The warmth of the hug is comforting, the touch of your hands is gentle and soothing. His tension quickly dies down as he melts against you as he realizes that he has never felt like this before. And as you begin gently scratching and massaging his scalp, his ears begin twitching and relaxing at the feeling of your nimble fingers. He tries to hide the innocent pleasure that's shooting though his body, not sure if you would think it's odd, but his heartbeat is increasing rapidly. Your fingers feel like magic as they brush against his ears and scratch the base of his scalp. Suddenly a little too unhinged for his liking, he begins purring and nuzzling your neck, enjoying every single bit of your touch.

"God, you're adorable..." you say softly, making sure to pet him behind his ears and Renjun's entire body fizzles with pleasure at the feeling. As if it has a mind of its own, his tail curls around your legs. "Is this okay? Have you ever been pet like this?"

Renjun hums in delight, "I've always dreamed about getting pet like this..." Your fingers begin gently playing with his ears. At first, they twitch nervously, but soon, he relaxes into the touch. He notes that his ears are very sensitive when being touched by someone else that isn't himself, and he loves the sensation.

"They're so soft... I could pet you like this all day," you say softly, making Renjun smile.

"Do you...," he hesitates for a bit, "want to touch my tail too? It's even softer..."

"Do you want me to?"

Renjun nods shyly, lifting his tail a bit for easy access. The moment your fingers begin brushing over his fur, he shivers, whimpering slightly. Every other time, whenever someone's touched his tail before, it was rough and mean, but the way you oh so gently run your fingers through his fur makes him almost lightheaded.

"Your fur is so soft...," you whisper and he hums in response, eyes already closed as he gets lost in the feeling. His tail makes small circles behind your leg when you brush over the fur, he whimpers softly as your fingers move further up towards the base of his tail.

Your fingers feel so good, unlike anything he's ever felt before. He keeps questioning if this is love, or if this is what it feels like when someone really cares, but all he knows is that he craves more and more of this all consuming feeling, when suddenly, he lets out a short, loud moan. The tips of your fingers have unknowingly reached the base of his tail, causing a jolt of pure, white, hot pleasure to shoot through his body.

Shamefully, he buries himself into your shoulder, his tail curling around your leg. He's mortified as your movements pause for a second, he's sure he's messed up now, but then your scratching picks up again and he breathes out shakily, body twitching at the feeling.

You keep going and going, and he begins moaning softly.

"Is this still okay for you?" The softness of your voice makes his heart melt.

"Mhm..." is all he is able to bring out at the overwhelming sensation of being touched there for the first time.

"Have you been touched here before?"

"N-never..." Renjun whines softly. He's feeling himself harden in his pants, cock straining against the fabric of his jeans and he's sure you noticed.

"Are you a virgin, Renjun?"

The question catches him off guard, but honestly, he's too far gone now to feel shy about it. It seems that you have picked up on how sensitive he is, and he can't really blame you for your assumption. You seem so open and accepting of him that he doesn't even hesitate before slightly nodding his head, "yeah..."

"And you're sure that you want to experience... this with me?"

The feeling of your fingers on his tail intensifies with every second, Renjun feels dizzy, there's barely any blood left in his brain at this point, all of it damming up in his cock and every other sensible part of his body. "yes.. yes...!"

It seems like this is all you needed to hear to speed up your movement, fingertips scratching and petting him in the most arousing way possible, forcing whimpers and moans from his mouth. "Aahh... Ah..." He tries to hold back, but the sensation is too much for him. Your touch is too nice and it's making him lose control as he bites his lip to keep himself from letting out a vocal response, but it's not enough. He's starting to tremble, breath getting heavier as he begins panting harshly. This sensation surely feels very close to how he feels when he's about to cum.

And just the attentive person you are, you speak up about it. "Are you gonna...?"

"I... Aahh... I think so..." He says, his voice shaking as he speaks. "It feels so nice..."

Experimentally, you move your fingers to the underside of his tail, and Renjun's body jolts in pleasure, his whole body jerks as he moans out, mouth slightly open while keeping his voice down as much as possible given your current location. He reaches up and grabs your wrist to make you keep touching him there. "Please..." He says in a thoroughly pleading voice. "Don't stop.."

As he forces his eyes to open, he notices your eyes on him, your face so close to his, and his eyes inevitably dart down to your lips as he gasps for more.

Of course, you take it as an invitation to kiss him, and as soon as your soft lips merge with his, Renjun knows that he's going to cum. He feels like he's actually going to faint as the pleasure reaches new heights, your kiss building the tension up and up, his head spins as he feels himself tighten up.

Your movements quickly send him over the edge. The intensity of the sensation is making his body shudder as he pulls you closer toward him and he lets himself go, muscles tightening even further as he releases into his pants with a high-pitched moan.

Your hands carefully stroke over his tail again, your unoccupied hand coming back up to his hair to help him calm down. He's breathing heavily, body feeling fuzzy inside at the attention and from his intense release. "O-oh, God..."

"That was so hot...," you whisper, gently kissing the top of his head. He lets out a soft giggle. You successfully have made him blush once again. But just as he's really, fully calming down, he inevitably notices the sticky feeling between his thighs and cringes.

You chuckle softly as you notice the look on his face. "Maybe we should get you to a restroom..."

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brother-emperors · 5 months

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cassius: bhe, you are so so lucky that your mom is sleeping with caesar. never gamble. you've used up all your luck here.

Brutus: The Noble Conspirator, Kathryn Tempest

anyway, the Vettius affair sure was something. also! Cassius here is echoing what Confucius has to say about revenge! unfortunately, neither of them got the memo on the other part of that

Zi-xia asked Confucius, saying, 'How should (a son) conduct himself with reference to the man who has killed his father or mother?' The Master said, 'He should sleep on straw, with his shield for a pillow; he should not take office; he must be determined not to live with the slayer under the same heaven. If he meet with him in the market-place or the court, he should not have to go back for his weapon, but (instantly) fight with him.'

Liji [Book of Rites], Tan Gong Part I, trans. James Legge

to be clear, this is a very unserious comic, I do not think that Brutus immediately throwing down with Pompey after making eye contact in the streets would have fixed anything, HOWEVER. it WOULD be extremely funny. to me.

bsky ⭐ pixiv ⭐ pillowfort ⭐ cohost

#gaius cassius longinus #marcus junius brutus #drawing tag #komiks tag #roman republic tag #are they (you know) conspirators?#listen. people do imperial china/roman empire comparatives as a university course. let me have this

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softxsuki · 8 months

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Kya! I saw you write for one piece and 🥰🥰🥰 don't worry, I try not to spoil you!

How would Luffy react to a female magician s/o that can Do so effin much without a devil fruit, and perhaps making cute requests to make him fly or showing him underwater World. Just someone who is lovely, kind and super sweet

Headcannons/drabbles... I leave that to you how you want it🥰🥰

Have a nice day/afternoon/night 🩵🩵

Luffy With A Magician S/O

Pairing: Luffy x Fem!Reader

Warnings: none

Genre: Fluff

Post-Type: Headcanons

Word Count: 610

Summary: In which you're a magician, part of the straw hat crew, and Luffy's s/o!

[A/N: So excited to write another request for one piece! I wish I could write for them more often but I have so many pending requests for other fandoms as well. I'm doing my best to evenly write for all the anime's on my writing list! But please send in all your OP requests, I need them <3 Thanks for sending this request in! What a fun idea <3 Hope you enjoy!]

Luffy:

Okay so because this is the One Piece universe, I’m gonna say that even though you don’t have a devil fruit, as a magician, you hold true magic! Okay? Okay

With that being said, Luffy is so entertained by you

Yes, his crew needs a chef, a musician, a navigator, a doctor, etc…but once he met you, he realized his crew also needed an entertainer

No, you weren’t a typical magician that pulls rabbits out of a hat (even though you probably could) but your magic allowed you to do so much more than your average trick

And Luffy loved your abilities so much, they brought him so much excitement

He’s always asking you to do something outrageous, going above and beyond with his requests to see how far your abilities truly go

From making him levitate, to cutting someone in half without killing them, his requests are endless, and sometimes even a little exhausting to keep up with

One of his favorite requests though are to see beneath the ocean; since he can’t swim, Luffy loves being able to see the ocean floor and the creatures that reside there

So if you’re able to create a magic bubble around you both and take him in the water, he’d love you forever (he already does)

You both love fooling around on the ship together, pranking the other crew members with your magic, and honestly the crew is fed up with your antics, but it’s nothing they aren’t used to already with Luffy onboard

During battles, Luffy sometimes gets distracted because he wants to see what crazy thing you’re going to do to your opponent using your magic

Catch him clapping his hands and laughing as you turn a marine’s sword into a balloon sword lol

“Ohh me next, turn my hands into metal Y/N!”

He’s so unserious, we love it

Though the cons to having magic and using is all the time is that you become drained very quickly, and when that does happen during a fight, Luffy is speeding to your side to protect you

After all, you’re more than just another crew member to him (or an entertainer as he recruited you as), you were his girlfriend and he would always make sure to take care of you

As much as he loved to see your magician abilities, your well-being was way more important to him

So whenever you do get drained, he takes you to a safe place, presses a kiss to your temple, and tells you to rest up while he and the rest of the crew take care of things

Of course sometimes you don’t listen to him; you’re part of the crew after all and if you just sit by and rest while everyone else surpasses their limits, you end up feeling a little useless

So you so what you can from afar, turning the opponents weapons into harmless objects, sometimes making their clothes vanish so they become flustered and distracted long enough so Sanji or Zoro can use that to their advantage, and sometimes you even help your crew avoid some hits by making them levitate or teleporting them to a safer area

You were definitely a very helpful member of the crew despite how tiring being a magican can be sometimes

Luffy gets a little upset that you didn’t follow his orders in staying somewhere safe and resting, but he’s grateful regardless

Once the fight it over, he’s carrying you back to the ship where he makes sure you spend the rest of the day resting without using any of your magic

He really loves you so much and you’ll always know that

REQUESTS ARE OPEN :D

Posted: 08/23/2023

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thefrogdalorian · 4 days

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I know there is this widely held perception that Season 3 of The Mandalorian had silly moments and made some comically strange story choices, which I can totally admit myself. I mean the bit in 03x04 where they all scatter to eat, but Bo is allowed to remain sitting by the fire was kind of hilarious and blatantly just because they wanted a helmetless scene in that episode.

And I won't complain too much because more Katee Sackhoff on my screen is never a bad thing.

But come on! The Mandalorian has always had goofy, unserious moments that if you contemplate for more than a second, your head threatens to fly off because of how daft it can be, at times.

For instance, in 1x04 Sanctuary, when Din removes his helmet on Sorgan in froNT OF AN OPEN WINDOW?!!?!

I know they did it for dramatic effect, to demonstrate how long he has worn his helmet, but if one of those kids looked around it would've been CURTAINS FOR HIM. Okay it might have been dark, sure, whatever but I cannot imagine someone as devout as Din would even take that risk! The Creed is everything to him.

Also, this man who we have seen for an entire season being such a competent and capable warrior has apparently never had a jetpack before Chapter 8. The best bounty hunter in the parsec cannot fly?! Then, immediately after getting it from The Armorer, with no training, he conveniently uses it immediately to blow up a TIE fighter and (seemingly) defeat Moff Gideon?!!?!

Not to mention how silly it is Gideon survived that initial skirmish... and probably survives in Season 3 too but we'll deal with that when it comes to it.

It isn't just Season One, either. There are also some parts of Season 2 which leave me scraching my head slightly, like in The Believer when the terminal needs to scan a face. Not a specific face, just any face. It doesn't make much sense. Again, not complaining, more Pedro Pascal on my screen is never a bad thing.

Not to mention how convenient Din getting the beskar spear was right before his duel with Gideon for the Darksaber. A weapon which is coincidentally one of the few which can parry the sacred blade!

Anyway, I don't hate any of these moments at all, I just feel like fans used to be so much more lenient.

Of course season 3 has some hmmmmm moments too, but there have always been questionable decisions right from the start. Star Wars fans are always going to nitpick and it mostly comes from a good place. I just wish there could be a bit more of a ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ attitude sometimes.

Nothing is perfect, but this show has had so many enjoyable moments and such compelling characters that I can let some silliness slide. Star Wars should always be a little goofy and silly and for me, long may that continue!

#din djarin #the mandalorian #star wars #bo katan kryze #spud rants #unserious space show with tin can man and weird wizard frog baby my beloved #it can be a little silly sometimes... as a treat.....

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recreationalfanfics · 9 months

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An Unstable Atmosphere

Part 1

Summary: You attempt to escape when you wake up in the captain's quarters of the Morrigan.

Note: Yandere themes, somewhat unserious banter at the end, this is a strictly platonic yandere x reader story

When you wake up, your eyelids still feel heavy and you feel like a stranger in your body as you feel all sorts of pains and aches. Your stinging eyes have a harder time adjusting to the light, your muscles ache and creak as if they will give out from under you as you pull yourself up, and you touch your lip which feels puffy and bruised. When the dull pain makes you flinch, everything comes back to you. The mass murder of everyone you knew, the way you were beaten around by Templar footmen and…

And Shay.

Now in a panic, you throw the blanket off of your form and inspect the area around you. The first thing you realize is that you were below deck on a ship, and the second thing you realize is that it was specifically the Captain’s quarters judging from the desk of a scattered yet neat pile of paperwork and the giant portrait of the dreaded traitor himself. If you recalled the rumors and stories to be true, Shay was about only two or three years older than yourself when he became an official Assassin, but seeing the portrait and remembering his face honestly made it hard to picture. You had to give credit to the artist where it was due, they captured his imposing and austere eyes rather well that it sent shivers down your spine, but it only made it harder for you to picture that his aged and hardened face was ever an assassin. He truly looked like a Templar, hateful and evil.

You hesitantly step your feet onto the ground as you sit on the edge of the bed, taking in more details of the area. You still bore your robes and your hood seemed to be sitting on the back of the chair. Your paranoid eyes look at the door and then towards the window; as if a Templar was randomly going to jump out and attack you, but once you gain the piece of mind; you stand up and walk towards the chair to grab your robes and make your outfit whole once more. Despite the pounding in your chest and the overall awfulness of the situation, there is a small amount you gain as you pull your hood over your head and it gives you motivation.

You’re alive…for now. May as well keep testing Lady Fate.

You briefly glance over the papers but find nothing of use, you also realize that your wrist piece with your hidden blade was not attached to your robe and was nowhere to be found, but you weren’t really surprised by that realization. It wouldn’t have done you much good anyways, seeing as you were never really handy with weapons, but your mentors often told you that you had a gift for stealth and having the element of surprise on your side. The very least you can do for those mentors is believe in their words and in yourself as you get your boots on and walk towards the door, pressing your ear against it. The chatter is rather low and soft and you don’t hear the sound of many scuffling feet, not to mention that you still hear the sound of seagulls which is a very good sign that you’re still nearby land but the ship is definitely still moving.

They’re in the middle of casting off.

With a closing time gap, your thoughts come together to come up with a very poorly thought out plan but one you felt would be your best bet. You would certainly be outnumbered but if you were quick enough, you’d be able to escape the remaining guards below deck and everyone else above deck would be too busy readying the ship to notice you escaping right away, and that once you managed to get to shore; you’d either buy yourself enough time to get a headstart before they turned their ship around or they’d simply deem you unimportant and continue their sailing to do whatever high ranking templars as Shay did. Grabbing your pillows and blankets, you take a deep breath before slamming the door open and throwing them at the first two templars you see guarding your door. You don’t catch their panicked yelling and you knock over everything in your path until you find the stairs.

A little earlier, Shay was steering the boat; pondering over his own morals and choices. It was clear that while his crew didn’t voice it, they were all very confused why he of all people allowed the little assassin who was currently asleep in his quarters to live. Now that Shay thought about it, he couldn’t really understand it himself; obviously, it was unfortunate that someone that young became an assassin but you weren’t exactly the first novice assassin he had to face. Although, there was a huge difference between you and your unfortunate peers; while they foolishly overestimated their abilities and underestimated his experience because they equated their youth to superiority, you were just…helpless. Like a baby bird with a broken wing, at the mercy of the wolves around you, Shay just couldn’t help but want to take you under his wing and keep you safe. Unlike the others who were too arrogant and humbled in their last moments, there was something inside of him screaming at him to not let you die, and that in such a short amount of time; you’ve endeared yourself to him.

It was wrong, he thought to himself. The very thought of you being killed despite being a part of the organization that betrayed him long ago felt…wrong. As he tucked you in the bed of his quarters, his hand gently caressed the side of your face, and for a brief moment; he felt a sense of familial connection. One that he hadn’t felt in a long time since his dear friend Liam and he realized he could not lose it. He could not lose you. There was no doubt in Shay’s mind that you needed him, especially as his eyes glazed over the injuries on your face with disgust, but he also knew that he needed you in his life just as much. He needed to protect and watch over you. He needed to teach you the ways of the world and softly introduce you to harsh truths. He needed you to look up at him and see him as not a disgraced assassin or as an untrustworthy Templar but as an idol, a mentor, and maybe even a father. There was an oddly warm feeling in his heart at that thought but he is pulled out of that daze the moment he hears loud clattering coming from the hatch that led below deck and that soon enough, your hooded figure pops out from it and immediately darts towards the side of the ship.

“STOP THEM!” Shay roars, he feels his body instantly become hysterical.

Side-eyeing the dock, it was far away that you couldn’t jump on it and make your escape back to land but it was close enough that it would take just a few strokes and a climb up and you’d be gone. By yourself, all alone, in the big cruel world. While some part of Shay expected you to pull something like this, a large part of him was slightly impressed but mostly worried. After all, once you got off his ship; where would you run to? All nearby guilds were already killed and the ones who managed to flee had escaped and erased all tracks for you to follow. You weren’t even armed with a weapon and you had no money.

As he questioned your poorly thought-out idea after ordering his men to stop you, he also instantly turned his wheel to steer his ship further from the dock and more into the ocean. He yells out another order to go full sail and that immediately heightens the sense of urgency you had already. One of his men tries to tackle you but you duck out of the way and slide between the legs of another who tried to grab you in his arms. You reacted quicker than you did yesterday and it definitely impressed him and even reminded him of himself when he was younger.

“I’ve got ‘em, Captain!” The navigator beside him shouted, Shay heard the sound of him withdrawing his pistol and he immediately turned around to grab his arm and quickly aim it anywhere else that wasn’t you.

As the two men scuffled, you yelped when you heard the gunshot. Failing to realize that it was nowhere near you but also not really caring, you dodge the last of his men near the edge and you reach the edge and perch yourself on it. Shay catches a glimpse of you as you try not to think about the water below and that the distance isn’t getting any shorter the longer you wait.

“FULL SAIL!” Someone yells.

It doesn’t take long before the wind fills the sails and the change of speed is drastic. Much so that you stumble from your spot and yell as you fall over, your hand managing to grab the side.

“NO!” Shay cries, immediately bolting towards you.

The sea spray kisses your boots and you look back at the dock, amazed and upset by how quickly the ship got away but if you let go right now, maybe you could still make it. You pinch your nose and close your eyes to ready yourself for the water but as you let go of the side of the ship, two large hands grab your wrist. You’re nothing more than a rag doll as you’re roughly hoisted away from the side and onto the ship’s floor. You stare up and your heart drops in your chest as Shay kneels in front of you, much like he did yesterday, but this time he put a hand on your shoulder. It was a tight grip, one that despite his gloves and your robes, you could feel his nails digging into you like a predator desperately clutching onto its prey. His face looks worried but you don’t know why, maybe because his prisoner or hostage or whatever he saw you as nearly escaped.

“Do you know how reckless that was!?” He hisses at you, his eyes now narrowing.

Still coming down from the adrenaline rush, your throat runs dry and you can’t seem to find a response. However, it didn’t really matter if you could or not because Shay quickly pulls you up to your feet and leads you back down below deck. He takes in the turned-over tables, chairs, and other miscellaneous things. His door swung a little most likely from the event that just occurred above deck. Then he finds his anger calming down and he briefly feels amused when he sees the blanket and pillow from his quarters haphazardly strewn on the ground outside, quickly gathering that you most likely threw them at the guards. Meanwhile, you struggle against his grasp and demand he let you go, knowing that it’d fall on deaf ears. Regardless of how you try to squirm out of it, it is all in vain.

He soon sits you on the bed as he slams the door shut, his other hand now grips your free shoulder and now it’s just you and him.

“What were you thinking?” He demands, trying not to be threatening but the frustration in his voice was clear. After a night of rest, you’re able to fake a brave face as you mimic his expression, furrowing your brows and trying to form your lips into a scowl as equally severe looking as his.

“Where are you taking me?” You shot back.

His expression changes, seeing you doing your best to look threatening, and he fights the urge to pinch your cheek fondly and tease you for it. Already, he feels an old part of himself reawaken, a more softer and tender side that he had thought years of being a Templar had washed away. When he pulls his hands away from you and crosses them over his chest, he becomes noticeably less angry but he still keeps his somber appearance.

“Do you really think you’re in the position to ask questions?” He asks, raising an eyebrow. You simply respond with a, “Don’t care. Where are you taking me?”

The silence is loud, uncomfortably so. However, your apprehension soon turns into frustration. This man had murdered your found family, this man was a selfish self-righteous traitor, and not to mention that for some sick reason; he kept you alive. The very least he could do is give you some answers. You open your mouth to once again demand answers but he beats you to it.

“Here’s how this is gunna’ work now.” He begins finally, “I ask a question, you answer. Then you ask me, and I’ll answer.”

“How do I know you’ll be honest?”

The corners of his mouth upturned into a little smile, one that only increased the rage and fear brewing deeply within you.

“I’ll be as honest as you are. And trust me, I’ll know when you tell me a lie.” He answers, sounding somewhat genuine but your mind remains ever skeptical. Leaning on the side of his desk, arms still crossed, he gives a look that almost reminds you of a parent staring down their child, “Do you understand?”

You stay silent out of malice and spite for a while but then your eyes look to the side in defeat, “Yes…”

“Good. First question: What’s your name?”

“Hezekiah Needleman.”

His head lops to the side a little and he gives you a long stare, clearly not amused by your false answer, and you couldn’t help but feel a teensy bit smug at his reaction before you say: “Alright, fine…It’s (Y/n). (Y/n) (L/n).”

“See how easy that was? Now, (Y/n), it’s your turn to ask a question-”

“Where are you taking me?” You demand once again.

“Home.”

It was a simple one-worded answer in any other situation, but in this context, it was like a baffling riddle. Raising more questions than answers, your expression becomes bewildered, “What do you mea-”

“Ah-ah, (Y/n). S’my turn,” He chides as unfolds his arms, his hands gripping the edge of the desk as he leans further onto it. You glare at him but stay silent so he can get his question over with, “Why did you join the assassins?”

This question takes you off guard and your hand reaches to your other arm and grips it, a visible sign of discomfort, and your eyes quickly sadden in such a way that Shay almost wants to take back his question, unsure of what wounds he might’ve just opened.

“They raised me, why wouldn’t I?” You say, hatred once again growing for the man who stood across from you.

“What happened to your parents?” He asked, his intrigue growing.

“Isn’t it my turn to ask a question?” You snapped. He wants to say something, to have the last word, but even he admits to himself he walked into that one. So he silently nods, a quiet gesture that lets you know it’s your turn to ask a question.

“What do you mean you’re taking me ‘home’? Where is this ship going?”

Shay tries to figure out what he’s going to say, how he can explain it to you even though he struggles to really explain it himself.

“Back to my estate. Where I will train you and show you what the Brotherhood really is.”

You open your mouth, again frustrated with how vague and confusing his answers are but then you close your mouth, not wanting to set yourself up for another pointless tease from him. Shay, quite pleased with your lack of rebuttal, then asks you: “Now, what of your family?”

“Dead. Because of you,” Your tone is bitter and your eyes harden again, “but if you’re talking about my real family, I don’t know. I was told the Templars were responsible for my becoming an orphan.”

“Did the Brotherhood tell you that?”

“Yes. And if you think the words of an old traitor are gonna change my mind, then I wish you the best of luck.” You snarl at him.

Something about you calling him a “traitor” enrages him, definitely not towards you but that bitterness towards the Brotherhood grows at your words and you can see that your words stung him.

“You’ll find out very quickly, (Y/n), that I don’t need luck. I make my own.” He then straightens his back and goes towards the door of his quarters, “Question time is over.”

You stand up indignantly, demanding that he returns, but you’re only answer is the sound of the door closing; this time you hear it locking and you stand in silence before you growl and kick the leg of his bed.

Putting the keys to his quarters back into his pocket, Shay now understands just how tangled you are in the Brotherhood’s webs and how it’ll be hard work to get you to see the truth, but he is now more than certain that it’ll be for your own good. When he returns to the top of the deck, he feels raindrops and immediately looks up at the sky above.

The sky is grey and the clouds begin to darken. He knows that it'll just be a day or two of rain but he still thinks to himself that it'd be better to sail with caution. After all, he had precious cargo on board.

#yandere assassin's creed x reader #yandere assassin's creed #yandere shay cormac #yandere shay patrick cormac #yandere shay cormac x reader #shay cormac x reader #assassin's creed x reader #shay patrick cormac x reader #yandere ac #yandere ac x reader #ac rouge x reader #yandere ac rouge x reader #platonic yandere #platonic yandere x reader #yandere scenarios #platonic yandere imagine #yandere x gn reader

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gamer-paramnesia · 6 months

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happy halloween!! have some fighting headcanons! (characters, obvs)

long-ish post

etoiles!! he is a warrior at heart, honest and loyal

I would think his fighting style is heavy on the footwork and agility + doing the most damage in as little strikes as possible

visually graceful, but almost impossible to follow?

matches pace w his opponents

very much on the offensive majority of the time

heavily trained (common style of fighting, but super fucking good at it so that it seems extremely unique)

soo so unserious tho

fights for the thrill!! the only time he actually got serious was the battle against the 3 codes (where he fought code!pomme… n where he died…)

incapcitates, then kills

honorable fighter! will not play dirty

tanks

large bladed weapons are his go to (swords, scythes, etc)

phil!!! survivalist extraordinaire

picks his fights! knows when he cant win

also very movement based,, uses his wings as a counterbalance more often than not (therefore making a lot of moves that are physically impossible to normal humans)

defensive fighter, fights to incapacitate?

more unique style, as he learned from mostly himself n he refined it

efficient but an honorable fighter as well

fast. like, scary fast

keeps his emotions in check (funnels his emotions into his swings)

doesnt like fighting much (lie)

will play dirty if desperate!

tanks!

best with scythes n axes

fit!!!!!!! 2b2t historian, did you know that 2b2t is the oldest-

also picks his fights (very carefully!)

hard hitter, more on the barrage type instead of the strike n wait

on the offensive, prone to switching to the defensive tho

generally unpredictable movements (hes batshit insane)

sporadic, hard to pin down style

not the most serious fighter. taunts a lot, goes quiet when focused (first i lol'd, but then i serioused >:0)

dirty fighter!! all those years of 2b2t taught him that :D

goes for the kill when stakes are high

will play honorably IF he respects his opponent/considers his opponent a good person, but even then he'll use every trick up his sleeve to win!

although,,, he will back out of a fight he knows he cant win (and even if he could win, he'd weigh the pros n cons)

kinda,, support,,,

he makes me think of a scavenger tbh

prefers smaller, more handy weapons (axes, explosives, knives, etc)

bad!!!! totally-not-a-demon demon

im gonna say it again (its that he picks his fights)

goes for the confusion tactics (feints n tricks n misleads n misdirects etc)

similar to fit in the taunts n unseriousness n the silent focus

enjoys the hunt

falls in step w his opponents when the stakes are low

refined fighting style (had a lot of time to work on it and boy did he)

when the stakes are high,,,, his fighting seems frantic yet somehow practiced, every move is deliberate

a shadowed blur on the battlefield

goes for the jugular lolz

when he has the upperhand.. he plays with his food tbh

bites off more than he can chew sometimes

prefers the defensive

also a barrage of attacks instead of wait n strike (death by a thousand cuts kinda)

plays SO dirty its not even funny (it is a little funny..)

avid scythe user!! (likes comically oversized weapons tho, like his warhammer)

roier! idk that much abt him but ive heard that hes a great fighter as well so im gonna throw in my guesses as to how he fights

gets underestimated a lot? works on his side tho bc he is a ruthless fighter

a very emotional fighter, but uses it to his advantage

on the defense a lot, brutal on the offense??

surprisingly graceful

incapacitates

not the most refined style, but very efficient

sword guy!! but like a perfectly weighted sword? (very particular about his weapons?)

jaiden!!! havent seen her pvp much but these are headcanons so-

learned from the best! (roier)

hard hitter, zones into an enemy and doesnt let up

stays in one location, pivoting is key (stands her ground)

uses her wings to gain extra speed if she had to change locations

not super experienced, but a quick learner

very defensive

channels emotions into swings (kinda wears her heart on her sleeves tho)

goes for the kill for opponents she has grudges against?

another scythe enjoyer!!

pac! also idk that much about him but he seems ergonomic

VERY graceful fighter

underestimates himself?

footwork is very particular and careful, almost like a dance

defensive fighter

either quiet, focused fighting or screaming, crying throwing up fighting, no in between LMAO

kinda a dirty fighter as well? not super on purpose but learned it from prison times

he seems like a rapier kinda guy (swords!!!)

feel free to add on!!! esp if u have disagreements w my hcs hehe

#qsmp #qsmp fitmc #qsmp etoiles #qsmp philza #qsmp roier #qsmp pac #qsmp jaiden #qsmp badboyhalo #also to say: i know nothing about fighting LMAO Ive just consumed a lot of content that has a lot of fighting :3

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deathbxnny · 11 months

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☆《Yanqing breaking his swords for you out of sheer jealousy!》☆

-----♡

A/N: This is a request from my dear Yanqing Anon! It's basically just a different POV of the original post this refrences to, so I hope you'll enjoy this one!<33

Content: Jealousy, established relationships, angst if you squint hard enough, kinda unserious, Jing Yuan being impressed, Fu Xuan not so much, mentions of Violence, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns!

((Not fully proofread))

-----♡

Yanqing knew, that he shouldn't have done it. That he should've just taken your hand and walked off with you. That he should've just ignored the person hitting on you and yet... he couldn't. Not when they were so obviously making you uncomfortable.

It was supposed to be a calming and fun date around the weaponry market, as he was on the hunt for a rare blade with you. He had only let go of your hand for a single moment to inspect a weapon, when he heard the person hitting on you behind him. At first, he tried to stay calm and let you handle it. But when the person became pushy, despite you telling them several times that you had a boyfriend, he began losing his cool.

And the moment the person grabbed you so roughly, it was over for any rational thought he had. He wouldn't let anyone harm you in any way and certainly not touch you either. Perhaps he had overreacted, by sending his swords right after the fleeing person, that shattered violently every time they missed the offender by just a hairs length, as they slammed into the walls and tables they were ducking behind.

He only really stopped, because the Master Diviner, Fu Xuan, had heard of the commotion and instantly dragged him off by his ear the moment she saw what he was doing. She had waved you off, when you tried to explain what happened, essentially telling you to go home for the day and that she'd deal with you either.

Yanqing could tell, that Jing Yuan found it all just amusing and cute, despite having to remain "serious and professional" on Fu Xuan's request. The boy is not sorry for what he's done however and just crosses his arms in indifference, knowing he'll get off easy as usual.

Though he had to admit, that the regret did begin to creep in, once he realised that Jing Yuan had taken away his allowance for two months as punishment after all...

-----♡

A/N: I hope this was alright! Thank you again to the Yanqing Anon for their request!<33

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail fanfic #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #hsr x reader #hsr yanqing x reader #hsr yanqing #hsr

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spectrum-core · 1 month

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STEPHCLAIR IS BAD AND YOU SHOULD FEEL BAD

Alternative title: a very angry (and tired) Full Stop fan's thesis.

ok, so me being the stephan/sinclair comparison's strongest hater is a bit i really like to lean into, but for the sake of keeping things semi-serious i will try to keep the actual essay content as free of me ranting my frustrations as humanly possible (which i mean commitement to the bit aside this will be hard bc it is frustrating to see people calling them both the same character, at best it shows a very surface level understanding of either character and at worst it shows just reducing them to cookie cutter meme fandom archetypes neither character actually fits into, so bear with me if i slip up and make unserious comments from time to time)

so before i start the actual essay let me say this: this essay doesnt even scratch the surface of how much i hate this comparison you guys cant even possibly fucking imagine ive been obssessed and i mean OBSSESSED with the full stop office since 2021 and im glad i wasnt in the limbus prerelease fanbase because if i had to see people comparing my beautiful boy and beloved best friend to a guy we had no info about other than "hes based of the guy from demian" i would have turned into the joker this is not even about saving my own mental health this is about sparing the entire pjm fandom of the monster i would have turned into

spoilers for ruina and limbus, universe terminology heavy and surface level references and interpretations of demian by herman hesse because imma keep it real with you guys the first and only time i read that book i was still in high school and i barely remember shit.

Table of contents:

Stephan - a summary

Sinclair - a summary 2.1. Emil Sinclair in Demian (1919) 2.2. Emil Sinclair in Limbus Company (2023)

Addressing common arguments

1.- Stephan - a summary

And of course I will start with Stephan, because I love him very much, just like Liwei he's one of my favorite pjm characters (yeah i like him more than your favorite popular character don't ask) so it's not surprising that i have A Lot to say about him, right?

And of course, I do.

As I said in the serrated duo post, a core part of my perception of the Full Stop office depends on the fact that they are poor. Mentions of money are common all across many factions in the game, yes, but the Full Stops are extremely constant about money, how taking a wrong turn means losing more than they can afford, how they can't afford to drop their weapons because they were too expensive, how even getting the permissions to be able to buy and wield these weapons was ridiculously expensive and so on. Of course, Stephan is the one talking about this the most (something I will elaborate on later), but Liwei and Tamaki also make a few ocassional mentions to it in their dialogue and keypages and considering this is a shared business it just makes sense that this is something that affects all of them.

These are just some few of the callbacks to money that Stephan alone does in his dialogue, without focusing in keypage text or what Liwei and Tamaki have to say about it.

And idk man, at least to me the difference between social classes is an important aspect for their characterization, specially because of how constant the concern with money is for Stephan. From this point alone comparing them feels like erasing a core aspect of Stephan's characterization, a lot about Stephan (and the Full Stop office as a whole, let's be real here) starts making more sense once you read the office as lower-middle class (and I'm saying lower middle class because they can afford some place to live and their weapons, but to me these guys are the types who precisely because of their need to keep bullets at all times can't pay for water or electricity all the time and sometimes they simply can't afford food or if they do they can spend a week straight eating nothing but unsalted pasta).

Now, going back to Stephan being the most outward about his complaints with money, he is in general the most outward about all problems the office is facing, to the point in which he doesn't mind inconveniencing everyone else with his rants, being one of the few guests who interrupt Angela's introductory speech and getting into Tamaki's nerves (something he's well aware he's doing, as these two know each other) at least two times through the course of their pre-battle cutscene, even Roland comments after the reception on how he wishes he would always have been as open about his problems as Stephan was.

However, it's worth nothing that he doesn't spend the entire cutscene crying about his miseries, and he only starts losing hope at three key moments: when they can't kill Eileen inmediately (making them waste more bullets than needed), when Argalia shows up (forcing them to retreat and making them fail their mission, meaning they won't get paid for this after they already lost a ton of money, as well as turning the situation into something much more dangerous than what they had signed up for) and once they enter the Library (an Urban Plague grade threat they have little to no information about, when him and Tamaki are almost out of bullets so Liwei is essentially the only fixer with some chance of putting up a fight and, you know, making it out alive).

Now, while it's true that Stephan is someone who dislikes danger, he isn't someone who isn't used to seeing gruesome events, his instinctive reaction to seeing a guy getting his head put into a meat grinder was cracking jokes and calling the concept of thought gears "a load of horseshit", which is something that falls in line with him being a somewhat experienced Fixer (sure, grade 5 isn't amazing but we can assume it's still either in the higher side of average or barely above average, and for someone specialized in firearms, which are far from the best weapon in the city, getting that high means he must have some experience and skill, right? more so considering he's been at this for 5 years at most) who has seen a fair share of horrid shit and can be unfazed by (most of) it as long as his own safety isn't on the line.

Another point is... he dislikes danger and is always wary about money and expenses, to the point in which he enjoys checking his bank account (or at least he believes so, if we go for the theory of the artbook profiles being more a mix of what the characters perceive themseves as/would describe themselves as to others, which is a theory i go by, I see him as someone who's convinced he does that for fun instead as out of desperation), but this seems to be more a generalized feeling of impending doom at everything rather than something that can be traced back to a particular traumatic event (anything can be dangerous, anything can cost him money), dude's from the backstreets after all, he's seen shit and he's used to assuming the worst. How I see Stephan, he's a guy who already expects bad things to happen but once things go wrong he starts freaking out about how this time They're Screwed For Real, but he never really tricks himself into believing "maybe things will turn out just fine this time?" or who thinks "well, we've done this before, surely we can handle it again."

This is not very related to Stephan as a character in terms of personality but I think it's still an important point to make as it is particularly related to body mods, his physical condition and his body shape.

So we can easily say that Stephan is a strong dude, at least if compared to real world standards without the fancy and insane body mods we see people in the city have access to. He carries that huge rifle around with his bare hands, something that Tamaki doesn't do and that not even Stephan himself in earlier iterations of his dessign did, and his main talent (which based of my theories is something that can be assumed as "something he's proud enough of to consider it the thing he does best") is physical labor.

Pictured, Tamaki's talksprite, carrying a rifle almost as long as she is tall with a strap supporting the weight on her shoulders, like a normal person.

Also pictured, an earlier iteration of Stephan's dessign, carrying the same rifle his current version does, but also holding it with the help of a similar strap supporting the weight on his shoulders.

And finally, Stephan's current dessign, holding that shit with his bare fucking hands in an exhibition of his brute animal strength, what the fuck is wrong with this man (affectionate)

And Stephan's artbook profile, the important part here is his speciality being physical labor, not only he's strong but he aknowledges this.

However, I made a point about the Full Stop office being poor, right? Even Roland says that "giving a whole office augmentation procedures is cheaper than keeping a decent supply of bullets in stock" (not the exact phrasing).

At least personally, I see this as Roland essentially saying "it would be cheaper (and more efficient) to get body mods for everyone in the office and buy another (cheaper) type of weaponry instead", but as things stand, the Full Stops can afford to either buy more ammunition and maintain their weapons, OR to get body mods, and since their whole deal is firearms... well, they can't really Stop investing in them, meaning they have no body mods At All and they got their grades purely out of their own physical strength.

Similarly, Stephan makes a similar point about how body augmentations are required for people to be able to run while carrying their weapons around (specifically talking about the rifles he and Tamaki use).

And... you know, the whole point is that they couldn't run carrying their weapons because they were too heavy, Argalia mocked them for that, Liwei urged them to drop their weapons, something they refused to do because of the prices.

Lastly on this point, while it's true that Ruina talksprites have a very bad case of Long Anime Legs (to the point in which how Roland's legs take about 2/3 of his height is a common joke), if we focus only on his head and torso, Stephan looks pretty Wide, and not only because he's wearing thick, fluffy and multilayered clothing, as other characters wearing similar clothing styles still look thinner than him.

This is all to say: I don't think this guy is a twink, or thin at all. He's a prime example of the strongman build to me and this is yet another hill I'm willing to die on watch project moon turn him into a beanpole once he inevitably shows up in limbus and me turning into the first real world distortion as a consequence.

Finally, Stephan is very notoriously the most informal member of the office, not only being the only one who doesn't wear any sort of formal clothing fully prioritizing comfort and practicality over looks but also completely disregarding formalities with his attitude at work (again, he interrupts Angela's introductory monologue, and again, his first two lines when being introduced are him cracking jokes), being the only member of the office to swear on screen and using several informal expressions and metaphors through both the reception dialogue and his keypage story.

And for good measure, he's a compilation of Stephan being the creature he is.

The literal introduction of the characters, also known as the moment in which Stephan became one of my favorite characters because he's Just Like Me Fr

Very normal behavior for someone who hates blood and violence and isn't used to seeing it. This man is more than capable (and willing, assuming money is involved) to murder kill.

Which, I mean, this attitude is very different from what we see from Sinclair.

2.- Sinclair, a summary

In retrospect I probably should have made this one first because I'm gonna be honest with you, Sinclair is one of the sinners I care about the least (I still like him and think he's pretty cool mind you I just don't vibe too much with most of the tropes making up the character) so what I have to say about him is less me grasping for straws and subtext because I don't care enough about him to be bothered with a super serious and in depth analysis like I did with Stephan and more things we can explicitly see about him in game and things that happen in the novel Demian.

And if I can have a small parenthesis here, people saying that one of my favorite pjm guys Ever is in any way similar to a guy who despite being pretty cool is just Not the type of character I fully vibe with... really, it gets annoying fast. Anyway back to the serious analysis now.

2.1- Emil Sinclair in Demian (1919)

To be able to understand Sinclair as he is depicted in Limbus Company, it is important to first be familiar with the source material of the original iteration of the character, that's it we're doing your high school homework by compiling several literary analysis of a symbolic psychological early 20th century autobiographical novel i hope you guys signed up for this (and if you didn't, though luck! i will do this anyway, I love literary analysis).

In the novel, young Emil finds himself torn between the worlds of light (which can be equated to the Garden of Eden, but it's more tangible meaning for our protagonist is his childhood home and family, a serene and well structure/organized space where he can be innocent, untainted by the evils of the outside world) and darkness (basically all the scary shit that goes on outside, where people do evil things for the sake of it), he finds himself tempted by the violence of the outside world, particularly through the actions of his classmate Franz Kromer, which eventually leads him to consider that due to being exposed to this tainted world of evil he no longer can return to the world of good and innocence.

Here, the character of Demian acts as a guide, someone who helps Sinclair to trascend this binary perception of good vs evil and to see himself as someone worthy of happiness because him witnessing the world of evil didn't taint him as a person but rather merely showed him another face of the world, Demian here mentions the Mark of Cain as a symbol of mental strenght and freedom, considering that bearers of this mark are capable of making their own choices and should be able to go beyond their assigned roles, being able to embody aspects of both worlds. This is to say that Demian's view is less focused on good vs evil, instead taking a more order vs chaos approach (without giving an explicit moral character to either).

In the book, the symbol of a bird breaking out of the egg is frequently used to represent Emil's personal growth, the egg represents safety and innocence, but a bird must eventually leave the egg or it will die, and getting out of the egg is a process than can be seen as violent, as a bird must fight to get out of the egg, and getting out of the egg represents birth but also an irreversible change, it can be seen as breaking out of the world of light and getting permanently in the world of darkness since a broken shell can't be fixed, but it can also mean achieving the enlightment and personal balance to not feel permanently bound to a condition, place or state of being and therefore growing as a person by learning to see himself as a whole human instead of supressing his "evil side" by only forcing the "good side" to surface.

Max Demian is here to show this second meaning of growth/self improvement (while also explaining that Sinclair is permamently growing and must always keep this balance between all the parts conforming the whole being that is himself rather that trying to make parts of himself antagonize each other). This idea of personal growth being one of the core themes of the book.

2.2- Emil Sinclair in Limbus Company (2023)

With Sinclair's source media analyzed (at a very surface level, mind you), we now can start talking about the depiction of Sinclair in Limbus Company, how it parallels the book, why the book symbolism is important for this instance of Sinclair and so on.

When we are first introduced to Sinclair in the game he's clearly nervous, he doesn't know what he's supposed to do as he hasn't worked for a similar company before and he isn't used to the gruesome sight of the bus eating people, this does fit inmediately in the motif of a naive person with limited experience about the world (well, to be fair to him most people won't be seeing man-eating buses at a regular basis, but the average backstreets dweller would be familiar with equally violent situations).

With this said, despite Sinclair's obviously nervous behavior... he isn't really a pessimist like Stephan was, in fact, almost every chapter (counting cantos, intervallos and the short mini chapters such as the Dante's notes update episode) have at least one key moment with him trying to rationalize horrible stuff as something much less violent, or simply going "but I thought this thing didn't work like this..." when confronted with the more horrible realities in the city. He thought the G corp veterans were really going to let them pass without a fight, he thought the people being controlled by headhens were just actors wearing mascot costumes, he thought mermaids were the beautiful half-woman half-fish creatures he heard about in fairy tales, and there's more examples but I don't really feel like looking for The Entire Fucking Plot Because This Guy Is An Actual Protagonist Instead Of A Background Guy Like Stephan Was to make my point clearer than it already is. And it's only when he realizes that the real world doesn't fit his expectations that he panics.

Well, there is one exception to this pattern: his own canto. Here, he panics inmediately as soon as K corp's nest is mentioned and spends the first half of the chapter pleading to turn back while saying that they are going to get killed. So what is different here with the rest of the plot?

Obviously, the fact that is related to his very own very personal very specific trauma. That is to say, unlike Stephan who is wary of anything that can put him on danger or cost him more money than it should, Sinclair has a very specific traumatic event that makes him act Like That (sure, he gets scared and nervous outside that, but these are more normal "I'm unfamiliar with this and I don't fully know how to react, this is normal behavior in a human being" reactions than outright "I am Actually Terrified due to being reminded of an actual traumatic event, this reaction is a textbook definition of post-traumatic stress disorder").

HOWEVER, Sinclair being someone who's deeply traumatized and kind of a scaredy cat when it comes to violence and unfamiliar situations... it doesn't mean that he's incompetent or a bad fighter. Almost all of his identities are terrifyingly good fighters (at least in their lore), Los Mariachis fear jefe Sinclair, Cinq director Sinclair is someone most association members are terrified to duel even during training, Blade Lineage Sinclair is considered a talented killer (it's also worth noting that save maybe for the mariachi one, in none of these mirror worlds Sinclair is precisely happy of being recognized as "the guy who's very scary when he fights people", unlike Stephan who I don't think he particularly likes killing but has a more "as long as I get paid..." mentality about it), the only "not very good at this" Sinclair id I can think of is the molar boatworks id where he's more a mechanic than a fighter so he fears he's lagging behind in that aspect. Hell, even the Canon Timeline so to speak (which is to say: his base identity) has him carrying that huge halberd, going on a frenzy attacking some already mutilated inquisitor's corpse, piercing through Guido's armor and dealing a fatal blow that finally killed him for real. To compare, Stephan is good at physical work, but we don't know about his close combat capacities other than the fact that he dislikes it, for Sinclair however we know he's terrifyingly good at physical combat.

Now, I've seen a lot of people call Sinclair a twink and while it's one of these words that nobody agrees on what it means, let's give it the benefit of doubt and say "alright, for the duration of this analysis let's settle on a twink being a young looking (regardless of actual age), thin man with almost no facial/body hair".

Since Sinclair is a rich guy (not just Any Rich Guy though, we're talking of someone whose family had ties to a Wing, probably not some elite guy like Daniel or Hong Lu, but not a self perceived "mediocre" nest dweller like Samjo either), and pressumably not very experienced in combat in most mirror worlds (we know he has no prior experience in the base one where he joined Limbus, at least), let's say that he has enough body mods for him to be much stronger than he looks like despite being thin, he does look thin and young and much to my dissapointment he also has no facial hair, so yeah, under this very broad definition of the term he is a twink.

However if you start adding personality archetypes to the definition he stops being one almost inmediately, as we've been shown time after time that his "submissive" attitude is mostly a result of him not knowing too well how to impose himself and just going along with what the rest say or do, but he's starting to grow tired of that ever since Hell's Chicken (even if he clearly still isn't great at that), as it should be more than obvious for anyone who even just googled "demian herman hesse literary analysis", Sinclair is undergoing a lot of changes even now, and the game is doing a good job at portraying that.

Honestly I also think he'd be hotter with a sleeper build but really, I don't care enough about him to argue about that.

And for the last point, precisely due to his upbringing as a rich guy AND his traumatic experience with Kromer, Sinclair is not only a very polite and mild mannered guy (again, unlike resident creature Stephan), but also he tries to take as little space as possible, both literally and metaphorically, as Dante notices near the end of canto 3 when they finally comment on how Sinclair never talks about his own problems until it's too late because he doesn't want to bother the others as they probably have it worse (again, unlike Stephan "i don't mind loweing team morale and making everyone in the room uncomfortable as long as i get to vent" Full Stop office).

3.- Adressing common arguments

Alright, now that I talked about each character, let's see some of the most common arguments I've seen people use to compare them.

"They look the same!" No, they don't. The only thing they have in common is being blonde but even their hairstyles are different with Sinclair having a simple bowl-ish cut with slightly wavy hair and Stephan having curlier hair (not to mention the whole point I made about body types because I'm the sort of lunatic who cares about that stuff). I won't even bother with this argument.

"They have the same personalities!" Again, they don't. Stephan is very cynical with a lot of his attitude being clearly derivated from him coming from a poor background and having stayed there his whole life, he also doesn't care about his cynism getting in the way and bothering everyone else. On the other hand, Sinclair is someone who could almost be described as naive due to having lived a sheltered childhood and only having his experiences with Kromer and his time at Limbus as moments of realizing that the rest of the world is Not Like His Childhood House, still believing that the world is a binary of good vs evil and expecting things to turn out fine or be much better than they actually are, just to be hit with the reality of the city Not being a nice place where people are nice and polite and not trying to kill him, this is not to say he doesn't have his own issues but even Dante notices during his Canto that Sinclair makes a point to avoid bothering everyone else with his personal problems, keeping them to himself even if that makes things worse on the long run.

"Both are opposed and harmed by a lunatic!" This is an argument I've seen a lot and is incredibly filmsy at best, half of the city's population are lunatics and the other half are people who got opposed by them some way or another. Will you say that Ishmael and the rest of the Pequod crew can be compared to the Full Stop office (or really, even mention the other Full Stop fixers instead of just focusing on Stephan because he happens to be blonde and can be compared to Sinclair) because of their situations with Ahab? Or the W Corp crew who got their train targetted by Jae-heon and Elena (or, you know, the train passengers who were turned into Love townspeople or puppets)? What about the Vermillion Cross who got killed by the Reverb Ensemble? Or the Cane office fixers? or the Zwei association section 6 who got beaten to death by Gyeong-mi just because he felt like doing so? Or the Liu association section 1 who had to deal with Argalia taking Philip away? Or the Kurokumo clan members when they were attacked by Tanya? You aren't comparing them to either Stephan or Sinclair, right? Not to mention that in her weird and fucked up perception of things, Kromer was less opposed to Sinclair as she was trying to lead him to join her and her cause, even the last things she says before getting killed are her calling him to follow her.

"Both are compared to birds!" Oh, right, because I forgot that a very directed symbolic comparison to a baby bird breaking out of it's shell as a symbol of rebirth, learning about the nuances of the world and self improvement/liberation that is consistently used in the source material Sinclair comes from is exactly the same as one (1) throwaway line the big bad guy uses to mock not only Stephan but the whole Full Stop gang, right. And if you want to say "but Tamaki compares him to a bird once too", yeah she calls him a parrot because he keeps repeating the same complaints over and over, it's still not the same as a consistent metaphor.

"Both are sad blonde twinks! They're essentially the same guy." Sad? Yeah, everyone in the city is sad but their ways to be sad are polar opposites, and neither of them is the pure cinnamon roll uwu crybaby archetype people tend to lump both into, Stephan was merely having a bad day and people decided to make that his whole personality (when honestly we get more insight on his actual personality before Argalia shows up, when he's making sarcastic remarks and getting impatient because they weren't starting killing people fast enough) but he's still perfectly capable (and willing) to murder people, and Sinclair is just... someone who lacks experience about the real world and how it works and has a tendency to get nervous because of this, but he can adapt quickly to situations once he understands them. Blonde? Yeah, but I guess if that's a point to draw a comparison then we should also compare them to Don Quixote, the Tiphereths, Lenny, Yun, Lulu, Olga, every single npc, librarian, and agent who comes with blonde hair from the generator... Twinks? Stephan absolutely isn't one, Sinclair depends on how you define twink as nobody seems to get to an agreement with that, if you define it as merely "young looking thin man with almost no visible body hair" then yeah he is one, but if you go for any more specific definition than that he stops fitting into the definition almost instantly.

In conclusion: if I see anyone else comparing them I'll start blocking people liberally bc I'm sick of seeing that shit (I do that already tbh but just so you know), now scram

#pjm #library of ruina #limbus company #.🔫#this full stop office shit gets serious #probab ly not exhaustive but ive had this sitting on my drafts for way too long so i needed to post it so people understand how much i Hate #that godforsaken comparison

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nanaosaki3940 · 7 months

Text

Let's talk about Sakamoto Days...

After the trauma and anxiety the JJK manga gave me for the past two weeks, I decided to indulge myself in something new... Just finished reading chapter 136 of Sakamoto Days manga and now I'm finally caught up with it.

And man, this manga's so fucking amazing!! 🤩🤩🤩

There's no dull moment in this series 😆, the comedy is on point 😂, and the action is peak in every single chapter 👌👍️!!

In other words, everything in Sakamoto Days is just pure RAW.

Talking about favorite characters - Sakamoto and his wife and daughter, Shin, Lu, Heisuke, all the Order members (except for Kanaguri, that filmmaker guy, cause he's fucking annoying), Satoda sensei, Byodo, Akira, Amane, and the Seba brothers (Natsuki and Mafuyu) are those characters that I really enjoyed and care about them.

The grannies and grandpas in this series are no joke, for real, like that one time when a mob of grannies beat the shit out of Sakamoto at the shopping mall, oh god!!

The most robust character in this series - good ol' Takamura - yeah, he's also an old dude working for the Order. And the fact that the old man just fights half-asleep with a simple katana, slicing buildings, cars, bridges, and towers in half?!?! Crazy!!

But, among all of these crazy ass characters, there needs to be a "BAE" character, no??? And that "BAE" character for me is none other than - NAGUMO. 💘💖💕

Like, y'all, I just can't express how much I love this man!! 😍

He's goofy AF with that smiley look he always has on his face... So unserious!! 😂😂😂

The duality of this man though...😳😳😳

His fight with Minimalist is so fucking RAW, y'all!! Like here he's goofing around and teasing that big dude... and the next thing you know...

...he chopped off that big dude's head!!! 😳😳😳

Also, man loves going to toy stores to buy fake weapons... So stupid.😂😭💕

Man's super fast that literally no one notices his moves!!😆

Appears out of nowhere and is just there??? Like, sir, who invited you??🤨😒😑😂

My man just loves chilling around... also, his love for his pocky sticks, yo...😋😋😋

Getting all the ladies - A True Rizzler!!😍🤩😘

How he starts his fights...😆😆😆

How those fights end...😨😨😨

His bond with big guy Hyo is the funniest shit ever!!🤣🤣🤣

Him and the Order...😎😎😎

When did he draw out his weapon?!?! How did he cut off his head?!?! Also, where's the weapon he used to cut off that big dude's head?!?!😨😨😨😱😱😱

Him in the volume cover!!!😍😍😍🤩🤩🤩

In short...

Welcome to my bae club, Nagumo!!! 😘😘😘

(My bae list, btw...)

Keisuke Baji from Tokrev

Dabi/Touya Todoroki from MHA

Satoru Gojo from JJK

Osamu Dazai from BSD

Nagumo from SakaDays (newly added)

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deathmetalunicorn1 · 6 months

Note

hello!!💞💞 i would like to request the reaction part of my old request lol,💕

if you don't remember me im the one who requested the

"Qin shi Huang x hades x male!y/n that is the reincarnation of the very first king and emperor in human history[don't ask me how his Both so just pretend😍✨]"ploy one lol💅[i did remove unnecessary parts and added some new parts that i forgot to include]:

if you don't also remember the reaction part here it is:

[and so how would qin shi Huang and hades react to his wound,fight ,speech ,and new look especially how they would react to seeing there extremely shy self-conscious scaredy cat, crybaby husband/Boyfriend,now being the most cocky, confident,arrogant,prideful,flirtiest,unserious and to be honest horniest man they have ever met, that would not be afraid to put anyone i mean ANYONE[even qin shi Huang and hades] Back in there place…

and too save you time i copied every thing here:

Hades x Qin shi Huang x Male!reader

that is the reincarnation of the very first king and emperor in human history[don't ask me how he's Both cus i don't even know myself so just imagine]

so like Before Ragnarok qin shi Huang and hades had been in a ploy relationship with the m!reader who let's just say got in to Valhalla for Saving people from a fire or something like that?

m!reader would have been very shy and didn't have a lot of confidence and would be a scaredy cat and a crybaby sometimes…

so when Ragnarok was announced m!reader was almost in tears finding out that his two lovers are fighting to the Death…[but it ends in a tie Don't worry]

as this was happening akaiju who is the embodiment of Darkness and the king of inferno would randomly join Ragnarok to the surprise of everyone as he was more powerful then all of them combined]

[at first the gods we're scared but after finding out that akaiju was also fighting for the destruction of humanity They were quick to roar in happiness and victory knowing this would be a victory and humanity lost more hope]

[while this was going on Brunhilde found out that the soul of the first king and emperor was in m!reader which meant he was the reincarnation of the king and emperor so she went to him so she can possibly return his previous memories back as he is the only hope]

[at first m!reader was hesitant at first but after a while he agreed because he didn't want him,qin shi Huang,his friends[which are the other human fighters]and the rest of humanity to get erased]

[so Brunhilde led him to a room with a large simbol that was on the floor surrounded by pillars]

[m!reader stepped in the large circle and after Brunhilde said the chants m!reader felt a large wave of energy hit him like lightning as his Body glowed bright]

after the transformation he now looked like this:

front:

Back:

[and he does use his claws to attack or inflict damage on his opponent and yes the claws are attached to the gloves]

and for his weapon would be a snyth like this:

[all art Done by me]

[m!reader would have transformed after qin shi Huang and hades fight so they're Both tired and they don't look for m!reader because they know m!reader doesn't know direction and just thought he was lost trying to look for them]

[and when akaiju and m!reader are being introduced it would be kinda like this]

heimdall: LADY AND GENTLEMEN GODS & Goddess ROUND[you choose] HAS BEGUN!!!

ON THE GODS SIDE

MEET THE DARKNESS THAT CONSUMS EVERY CORNER OF ALL THINGS

THE ONE WHO RULES THE VERY INFERNO!!

THE ONE WHO FEEDS OFF YOUR FEAR!!!

THE EMBODIMENT OF DARKNESS AND THE KING OF INFERNO HIMSELF!!

AKAIJUUU!!!!

[There entered akaiju holding his of weapon choice which was a sphere with Sharp Bat wings as a second blade his hair was long tied into a messy large ponytail[like kokushibo From demon slayer] with his horns outlined with Crimson red his attire was the same color black and crimson red as his outfit was be covered by his cape but you could see his marks on his arms because they we're sleeveless his nails were sharp as kinfes and i must say his handsome😏]

[for m!reader]

heimdall:

ALRIGHT ON HUMANITY'S SIDE!

MEET THE MAN WHO CHANGED HISTORY FOREVER

THE MAN WHO WAS THOUGH TO BE A MYTH!

THE MAN WHO STARTED THE VERY FIRST KINGDOM & EMPIRE AND LIVED BEFORE PRE-RECORD HISTORY!

LADY'S AND GENTLEMAN MEET THE FIRST KING & EMPEROR IN HUMAN HISTORY

M!Y/N!!

[Every one looked at the entrance to see you not there?]

heimdall: uhh whare is h-

[Before he could finishe his sentence a large monster had Been thrown from the inside making the door Break open as the monster rolled down the steps

M!reader emerg holding his trusty snyth]

M!reader:my my~i seemed to be late~ my apology!~

[as m!reader said this every king and emperor in history Bows Down in respect of his glory as his the one who started it all]

[One of the guards or bystandard looked inside to see hundreds of different warriors and monsters and even gods knocked out cold as m!reader defeated all of them but the guard or bystandard was more shocked because

m!reader didn't even have a scratch on him!?]

[as the fight was about to start qin shi Huang and hades didn't realize that it was m!reader

cus he looked way different and he has a Blindfold and so when they heard his name they thought it was just a coincidence]

how they're fight would kinda go:

[Akaiju attacked m!reader first with a powerful attack but m!reader manage to block it but he still got thrown on one of the arena walls which broke in impact]

[he sat up from the attack as he feels blood run down his face he put his hand to his face and touched it before looking at his hand seeing blood but instead of being scared or worried he smiled brightly as he wanted a good fair fight]

m!reader:my my! What a powerful attack say you won't mind if i return the favor?~

[as m!reader swang his snyth at akaiju also making Black spikes appear as it hit akaiju also making him crash to the wall with more impact]

[after a few minutes akaiju manage to hit m!reader in the face cutting his blindfold and in the process cutting his face leaving a large wound like this:

as the blindfold fell off everyone could see his eyes which were Beautiful…his eyes we're a beautiful golden yellow as his pupil looked like a snake but with a Black star behind it outlined with white as it almost look like it glowed and also revealing who he was]

[m!reader usually wore a blindfold because he rely more on his sentences than his site but by now using his eyes which had a special ability which he could see his opponents weak spots and next move but it was still a little hard because Both of him and Akaiju are very injured]

[and even tho he had a large wound on his face he still had a bright smile as he wipes the Blood away not caring about the pain]

[qin shi Huang and hades on the other hand despite being injured because of there fight wanted to run in the arena to get you out of there not wanting to loss you but there's was nothing they could do as the round already started]

[In the middle of the fight, Akaiju randomly asked m!reader, "tell me mortal…What makes someone a king/emperor?"

m!reader chuckled at the question, Before He answered"A king/emperor is the one who leads his people with grace and wisdom. He is the one who guides them in times of joy and sorrow, the one who inspires hope, and the one who inspires loyalty and devotion. A king/emperor is the one who serves his people with humility and cares for them like a father cares for his children.he continues]

"A king/emperor is the one who cares for his kingdom and people. He is the one who will do anything to make his people happy, who will sacrifice his life for his people.the one who there people truly consider there king/emperor as Without a king, the people are lost and directionless. But with a king/emperor, the people can achieve greatness and fulfill their potential. It is the duty of a king/emperor to protect his kingdom & empire and its people, and lead them to a brighter future

…as a king/emperor is nothing without his people and his people are nothing without him…And if you claim yourself to be a king/emperor, without your people,you are no such king/emperor, only a fool…as The title of king/emperor is to be earned, not given.]

[Humanity looked at king and emperor in awe of his wisdom as they're determination grows more]

[a few more minutes of fighting. randomly akaiju stopped. as he lifted up his spear m! reader prepared for him to attack…but to the surprise of the gods and humanity as well a m!reader the embodiment stabbed himself deep on the side of his stomach Before ripping out the spear giving himself a very fatal Blow. and as Blood ran down the head of the spear he was smiling/smirking at m!y/n

m!y/n quickly regain his composure again smiling as he realized that akaiju wanted a fair fight and a fair fight he will deliver]

[Both started to fight more harder both using they're most powerful attack…after a few more minutes

m!y/n barely manage to Dodge one of akaiju's attack getting the side of his torso stabbed so he swang his snyth cutting akaiju chest as akaiju fell back

And after a few seconds akaiju stood up as m!y/n prepared to fight again but akaiju Drop his weapon and looked at m!y/n as he slowly faded away]

Akaiju:it was an honor to fight with someone like you and I want to thank you…for this fight

[there fight would end like this

heimdall:ROUND [you choose] HAS BEEN CONCLUDED THE WINNER IS M!Y/N!!

ROUND [you choose]:

M!y/n vs akaiju

Time:53 minutes and 28 seconds

Dealing blow:king's heavenly judgment

Winner: M!y/n the first king and emperor in human history

[and yes there fight would be the longest]

[all the gods and humans looked at m!reader in shocked that he actually defeated someone so much more powerful then all the gods!?]

[as m!y/n walked back stage he unfused with his Valkyrie before he looked up seeing Brunhilde,göll,as well as hades, qin shi Huang going towards them giving them a weak smile before Passing out but was catched by his Valkyrie who was very worried]

if you're wondering what m!y/n looks like after the fight here you go]

[yes the side of his torso is gone because of akaiju's attack and if you wondering why he kinda looks like he got set on fire because he did get set on fire during the fight.]

I hope you enjoy this my dear- I’m only going to be writing after the battle, as you’ve already done the hard part of the battle for me, and I don’t want to waste your hard work.

-Qin Shi Huang was beside himself, ordering the nurses and anyone who was listening to get to you, something Brunnhilde was quickly mimicking- calling for aide.

-He stared down at your body, in awe that you were so strong, but seeing you now so broken- he felt scared. He would never admit it out loud, but his heart was hammering in his chest, afraid that he was going to lose you.

-Doctors and nurses rushed you into surgery, where QSH tried to follow, but Brunnhilde stopped him, lifting an arm to catch him, but for once, he didn’t fight her, watching your body being wheeled away.

-Tears welled in his eyes and Hades pulled him back, letting the human sag into him, who kneeled, allowing the emperor to have his moment of weakness as it was just him, Brunnhilde, and Goll there and he clutched at Hades, crying heavily.

-The damage to your torso was extensive, it took the doctors so long to get you to stop bleeding so they could get in there and patch you up enough to get you into a tank, a water tank that stimulated rapid healing.

-That was their goal, to get you to that point, because if they could do that- there would be no question that you would survive.

-It was hours later when a nurse came out, finding both men sitting outside the surgery room. QSH’s head was resting on Hades’ arm, almost asleep, but as soon as they saw her- they both were quickly standing.

-She bowed politely before giving a small nod, speaking to him gently, “Y/N will be all right.” Those five little words made the two men melt back into their seats, overwhelmed with relief which made her smile softly.

-The nurse held a hand to the side, motioning towards a side door, “Follow me.” QSH was instantly on his feet, rushing after her, even beating her to the door, opening it for her before she led both men down a long hallway that smelled clean- it smelled like medicine.

-She came to a room and opened the door, “In here- Lord Y/N will be fine in time.” QSH saw you laying in the water tank, one similar to what he had been in after his fight, seeing you covered in stitches and bandages, quickly approaching.

-Hades watched QSH sink to his knees by your side, his hands touching the glass of the tank before exhaling deeply. Hades turned, surprising her, “Thank you for bringing us to him.” She nodded, seeing how much love they both had for you, and she bowed her head, before motioning to a button, “If he gives any indication that he is waking up- as in his eyes open, please press this and we will be right here.”

-Hades nodded as QSH didn’t respond and she took her leave.

-You slept through the remainder of Ragnarok, blissfully unaware that humanity managed to win their salvation. Hades shirked his duties, for once, as both men refused to leave your side, watching the matches from your room, telling you about each one.

-They didn’t know if you could hear them, but they wanted to tell you anyway.

-You didn’t wake up for another two weeks, but according to the doctors, several that QSH cornered, wanting answers, that was actually pretty good, based on your wounds.

-QSH made sure that he was the first one you saw after they pulled you out of the tank, dying you off and dressing you, he held your face between his hands, talking down to you and as your eyes opened he quickly launched a kiss attack which made you groan in pain.

-Hades was quick to react, whacking him hard on the top of his head, leaving the emperor with a large steaming lump on his head while you got tended to by the nurses.

-Everything hurt, but that was mainly because you had been lying in on position for over two weeks, even if you were in water, so you were basically super stiff.

-You had to get physical therapy, to loosen up your muscles, something both you and your lover knew, but when it came to other things, like eating, you weren’t going to lift a finger!!

-QSH loved doting on you- he found it enjoyable while you pouted, telling him to stop teasing you- which of course made him want to do it even more.

-Hades was concerned for you, treating you like a delicate flower, which you didn’t care for, at least all the time, pouting up at him as he wrapped you in a blanket, “I told you I’m fine!” he just grinned, pecking your puffed cheek lightly, not accepting no for an answer.

-Once you were cleared, you were so happy to be back outside, but annoyed because you were still on restricted duty, you couldn’t work out, train, or lift anything heavier than a teacup for at least another week!!

-You were happy to be home in your palace, one you shared with Hades and QSH, but you were cranky, as you were bored, wanting to go out and do stuff, at least run around, but they weren’t letting any of that happen- they watched you like a pair of hawks and would scold you, carrying you back to your bed that was covered with pillows, and pinning you down in it, if either one found you out and about without one of them.

-You couldn’t help but pout, folding your arms across your chest like you were a child, “I want to go outside!” Hades was to your left, hugging you, but his arms were like two steel bars, holding you down, “It’s raining- you could get sick!” you groaned before QSH returned with some hot tea, “Here Y/N this will help warm you up.”

-You took it, muttering out a quiet thank you, before he joined you on the massive bed, sitting beside you on your right, “You’ll be able to start training in two days- you’re almost there!”

-You sighed softly, knowing they were right before you grinned like a gremlin, “So does that mean when I’m clear we can-” Hades put his hand over your mouth, scolding you, “No- the doctors said at least another two weeks for that.”

-You groaned, falling back into Hades who laughed warmly, followed by QSH, as they didn’t like waiting either, but it was to make sure you were well.

-You sighed softly, looking at these two men, a small, fond smile appearing on your lips, you were so lucky to have these two.

#record of ragnarok #ror x reader #ror hades #ror qin shi huang

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chimielie · 10 months

Text

i had the time of my life / fighting dragons with you

summary: Iwaizumi Hajime x f!Reader. No one in history has even come close to touching a night fury. Iwaizumi should be lauding himself as the greatest warrior of all time; well past Oikawa as the greatest of your generation, even. And instead he’s trying to turn it into a cat.

word count: 1.7k

cw: incredibly minor blood, unserious death threats, one minor mention of parental death. overuse of italics and “brat” as a nickname.

a/n: how to train your dragon au, iwaizumi is not really similar to hiccup but he LOVES big lizard!!! anyway i’ve been on a bus since 6:45 am with intermittent sightseeing stops and my phone was also dead for five hours so i have no idea how or when i wrote this <3 love you

“i think,” iwaizumi starts, “i’ve made a discovery.”

“what?” you look up from the whetstone you’re sharpening your sword against, passing the blade through your hands again and again with the practiced ease of years of study. “don’t tell me you’ve pissed over the ale or something stupid.”

his fine nose wrinkles.

“i don’t do things like that,” he says your name, irritated. the mocking lift to your lips drops and your eyebrows soften. he nearly never uses your given name. instead, it’s been lady or bug or brat since you were youths.

lady, most often, used always around your family and anyone who wasn’t a friend. it was your default title, said with iwaizumi’s plain sincerity and never the mocking twist that some of the other village boys used.

bug, generally when he wanted to goad you into breaking the rules. it had begun when you were still children and he had been the largest of you all: oikawa, matsukawa, hanamaki. things hadn’t stayed that way, but the nickname remained and never failed to incense you until you were slinging your weapon over your back and striding ahead of them all.

brat, used without any pattern identifiable to you. it was often accompanied by an exasperated but affectionate puff of breath and an accommodation to a demand, but not always. sometimes he would lean to the side as you entered the dining hall and mutter something like “you have a tear in the back of your skirt,” and before you ever found your tongue in the red rage that descended upon you that he hadn’t said anything sooner, follow with “lucky for you, brat, no one’ll notice when they’re blind with your beauty.”

the last one almost always nonplussed you so much you had no answer but to kick him in the back of the knee, and it never pissed him off as much as it should.

so you know whatever he wants to talk about is serious.

“i know,” you say, lifting your sword and inspecting it. “what have you done, then?”

“i have to show you,” he says, and your brows nearly shoot into your hairline. it’s not something he’s made, then; something bulky, sturdy iwaizumi can’t carry home to you.

his face is carefully neutral, but his eyes betray him. something lively and hopeful is dancing in the depths of his green eyes, something you rarely see in his chronically serious face.

you pick up your two-hander, sliding it into its just-oiled scabbard.

“take me to it, sir,” you say, and his face splits into a beaming smile you’re not sure you can recall seeing in years.

“this isn’t a discovery,” you say blandly as he pushes aside branches so you can duck under them without tangling leaves in your hair. “this is what we called the secret garden as children, hajime. don’t tell me you’re so old you’re losing your memories already?”

“you’re not funny,” iwaizumi says with a chuckle, and pride glows in your chest. “it’s not the glade, brat, it’s—”

“a fucking night fury?” you shriek, scrambling back as soon as you pass through the branches, hitting iwaizumi’s firm chest as an obstacle. “whatever you wanted to show me has been eaten and burned by now, i hope you know! or the other way around!”

you reach for your sword, but he pulls it out of its sheath before you can.

“have you lost your damn mind?” you shout, watching him put himself between you and the most fearsome creature you can imagine and holding the sword towards you. like you’re going to hurt it.

“hey, hey,” he says, tossing your weapon to the side, and the thing snuggles into him, growling. no, not growling—purring. “don’t worry, she’s not gonna hurt you.”

you dive for your sword and come up kneeling, watching your oldest friend, one of the greatest warriors of your generation, scratching the head of a fucking night fury; the same dragon, or its kin, that killed his father five years ago.

“no worries that it’ll, i don’t know, maim and kill me,” you say. “or yourself, for that matter. for the love of life, hajime, what are you trying to do, tame it?

“i’m not trying to tame him,” iwaizumi says, looking up at you with stupid, glimmering, hopeful eyes. “he’s—i injured him, a few months ago.”

no one in history has even come close to touching a night fury. iwaizumi should be lauding himself as the greatest warrior of all time; well past oikawa as the greatest of your generation, even. and instead he’s trying to turn it into a cat.

“why didn’t you finish the job?” you say warily, lowering your guard ever so slightly. it’s a beautiful creature, you have to admit, with black scales that seem to absorb the light and green eyes remarkably like the shade of—

“we—i don’t know,” iwaizumi’s tone turns reverent, affectionate. “we came to an understanding.”

“an understanding,” you echo, cocking your head and sizing up the fury. its build is lithe, more suited to its nighttime bursts of violence than some of the dragons you’ve slain in your day. you circle the two of them, giving a wide berth as the dragon swivels its head to look at you, and there it is.

mattsun’s handiwork if you’ve ever seen it, a beautiful leather-and-metal fin fitted to the dragon’s tail, replacing where iwaizumi’s blade had torn it. you wonder if he’d known. if you were the last of your cohort to know.

“it’s a beautiful piece,” you murmur, reaching out to touch it almost inexorably. it stiffens, hissing at you, and you flinch back.

“go on,” hajime says softly. the dragon looks at you with those alarmingly familiar eyes, sizing you up just as you had it. against all your better judgment, you drop your sword, kicking it to the side. it steps toward you, gaze flicking back and forth between you, the weapon, and iwaizumi. you don’t move, barely breathing as it bumps its head into your side just as it had iwaizumi.

you’re not braced for it, buckling a little under the force of the headbutt, but after a few more moments of caution, you dare to lift a hand and pat it on the head, once.

“hello, scourge of the skies,” you say softly to it. “please don’t burn, eat, or kill me.”

“i won’t let him hurt you,” iwaizumi’s voice is low and raspy, blending with the rush of wind through the grass. “‘sides, he’s well fed, huh?” he gives the dragon an affectionate pat on the rump.

“i don’t even want to know what you’ve been stealing to feed a night fury.”

“not stealing,” iwaizumi says, but he doesn’t elaborate, to your relief. “do you want to see something else?”

“if it’s another dragon…” you warn fruitlessly.

“not another dragon,” he says reassuringly, and instead produces a mass of leather tangled in itself so you can’t determine what exactly it is. the dragon seems to recognize it, though, and bows its—his—head to help iwaizumi through the process of getting it on.

“oh, hajime,” you say with dawning horror. “you’re not going to try and ride it, are you? if you die in such a stupid way, i’m going to be incredibly pissed off.”

“i’m not going to die, bug,” iwaizumi promises, tightening a final strap on the saddle. “and neither are you.”

“what the fuck does that mean?” you say, and he’s already lifting you up, one arm supporting your back and the other your knees like it’s not already humiliating enough, he has to put you in some kind of princess carry to finish you off entirely. “hajime. hajime! you can’t do this—”

your words are cut off by a scream and a second attempt of the day to crawl back into the strong cage of iwaizumi’s arms. the dragon’s wings beat beneath you, a steady rhythm not unlike the gallop of a horse, but you still dig your legs in tightly and squeeze your eyes shut.

eventually, you must reach some kind of acceptable elevation as the dragon’s flight evens out, transitioning from actively beating against the wind to riding it. you open one eye tentatively, your breath stolen from you as the sea of your people stretches out into the horizon.

“are you alright?” iwaizumi inquires in your ear, and you settle a little more comfortably against him.

“i’m going to kill you if i survive this,” you say. he chuckles low in your ear and tugs the reins sharply, steering the dragon in a wide arc.

“you sound practically relaxed.” the ocean’s waves are visible even from this height, and the white line of the crash against the cliffs almost reminds you of bridal lace. “relaxed enough to stop digging your claws into my arms?”

you hadn’t even been aware that you were gripping onto him so tightly. when you withdraw, little pink half-moons are left, some bubbling with red droplets.

“i’d be sorry,” you say, “but you kidnapped me with a dragon, so i think we’re only even now.”

abruptly, iwaizumi’s knee moves, nudging the belly of the dragon, and all three of you plummet, dropping in a neat line toward the blue, blue sea. your stomach drops beautifully as a strong pull of the reins brings you back up, just barely skimming the water’s surface, and there’s spray on your face and sun in your eyes and iwaizumi’s laugh, wild and carefree, carrying you away on the wind.

“thanks for sharing this with me,” he says when you both have your breath again. his night fury coasts on the breeze, the sun low on the horizon, turning the light golden and the sea shining like precious metal in every direction. “even if you were a brat about it.”

you think, maybe, everything makes sense now; a realization as sharp and sudden as freefall feels. you lean back into his chest and raise your hands in the air. a language without words; a name that means beloved.

the sun drops below your eye’s limits, and the beat of the night fury’s wings is steady beneath the two of you.

#haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #hq!! x reader #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi hajime x reader #iwaizumi fluff #haikyuu!! fluff #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu!! x reader angst #haikyuu x reader fluff #hq x reader fluff #i’m rlly into this reader character tbh

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the-lonelybarricade · 10 months

Text

A Blaze in the Dark - (4/8)

Chapter Title: In From the Snow

Summary: On the eve of her wedding, knowing nothing about her husband besides his apparent disinterest in his soon-to-be wife, Elain uses a spell to meet her true love in her dreams.

A contribution to @elucienweekofficial Day 4: Courtiers.

Read on AO3 ・Series Masterlist・Previous Chapter

Elain had never struggled to sit comfortably in silence.

Silence had been expected of her since the moment she was born, when her mother would hand Elain and her sisters off to a nursemaid the moment they began to weep. Elain had grown up watching her father urge Nesta and Feyre out of his study when they couldn’t keep still, and she had learned that the trick to never being pushed away was to keep silent.

There was a weapon to silence. Unlike her outspoken sisters, Elain often traded speaking her mind for observing the world around her. It was easy to slip by unnoticed, putting people at ease in her quiet and unassuming nature while she pilfered their words and countenance for the truth they did not know they were revealing.

If you are going to speak, her mother used to say, then your words must not be empty.

Even then, there were rules to obey. Speak with purpose, but never too clever, never too bold. So Elain watched and observed and weighed every word to ensure it was dignified and poised. It was a meticulous effort, being perfect. Use wit and humor to be interesting, but not so much that she be deemed unserious. So Elain listened and observed so that she could disguise every word beneath the thin veneer of perfection.

She did not mind the silence, except that she found herself struggling to leverage it to her advantage when there was nothing to be won. No one to impress besides her indignant husband, who seemed intent on prolonging the silence as long as possible. It sat unbroken for hours, past hills and valleys and the endless seas of bluebells. It was only towards the end of the trip, when the sun was hanging low on the horizon, that it fractured from Elain’s lips in the shape of a startled, “Oh.”

Lucien raised his head, as if drawn from a daze. He blinked, eyes going first to Elain, then following her line of sight out the carriage window. A small laugh escaped him, before he rapped his knuckles against the wall that separated them from the driver. Elain heard the footman call out, and soon the steady clop of hooves slowed.

The carriage jerked to a stop.

“Go on,” Lucien said, nodding towards the carriage door.

Elain set her hand towards the bronze latch, then paused. Retreated. “Will it be cold?”

“Yes.”

“Will I like it?”

“Only you can decide that, Elain.”

“Do you like it?”

Rather than answer, Lucien began unfastening the buttons of his jacket, beginning to strip himself to his burgundy waistcoat and undershirt.

Elain, feeling a bit delirious, asked, “Do you intend to coax me from the carriage by threat of undressing?”

He only smiled. “Would it work?”

She might very well leave if only to escape answering that question truthfully. “At present, I’m not sure which unnerves me more.”

“My pride is relieved,” he said dryly. Once his fingers pushed the final button free, he slid the fabric gracefully off his arms and held it out to her in offering. “It will be cold,” he said. “You will be grateful to have this.”

Elain accepted it with exaggerated reluctance. It was heavy, still warm from his back.

“Will I be going alone, then?”

The question was partly a means of stalling and partly because she was too proud to ask him directly if he could come with her. But she wanted him to.

All he said was, “Put on my jacket.”

His eyes said the rest. They watched her, gold and russet burning with surprising authority. No more questions.

That tone of voice. It was command, laced with something warmer. Something that felt like drinking a glass of the amber liquid her father kept in his study. She felt the prickling heat on the back of her tongue, slowly slipping down. She pushed one arm through his jacket, then the next as a new warmth was spread over her. She was beginning to feel a bit woozy, not helped by the strong scent of the jacket and the overwhelming urge to tuck her face closer for a whiff.

“Good girl,” he said.

And she realized what that tone of voice reminded her of.

Open your mouth.

Elain was grateful for the way her breath hitched—smothering whatever embarrassing sound built in her throat. The metal latch bit into her skin by how hastily she grabbed it to shove the carriage door open, because suddenly what waited for her outside was much more inviting than examining why those two words evoke such an intense physical reaction when they came from someone other than her true love.

A cool breeze brushed against her flushed cheeks. Good, Elain thought, swallowing every freezing breath in large, greedy mouthfuls. She flexed her fingers, marveling at the strange bite of the air, and how quickly it was alleviating her racing pulse.

Elain pressed her foot tentatively to the carriage step, and her improper thoughts were quickly chased away by the anxieties of what awaited her. She was certainly wearing the wrong footwear, but any clothes that had been brought in preparation for the Eastern Kingdom were in the trunk at the back of the carriage. Really, how bad could it be if they were just stopping to look?

On the next clouded breath, Elain pretended that she was exhaling the timid voice inside saying: what if it doesn’t live up to your expectations?

Then she jumped from the carriage.

The snow crunched underfoot. Her mouth parted open in surprise. She hadn’t been expecting a noise. In her mind, she’d always imagined winter as a silent assassin. The frost brought death to flowers and trees and sometimes the living creatures that could not survive its harsh conditions. It was a brutal, unforgiving force of nature.

What Elain didn’t know was that the snow banks glistened in the low-hanging sunlight, reflecting the gold and pink of the sky above it. There were no chittering birds, no chirps of crickets or cicadas.

The world around them was entirely undisturbed. Tranquil, yet stagnant.

“What do you think?”

Lucien stepped down from the carriage, irritatingly dashing in his fitted waistcoat—which cut to his body tightly enough that she could mark the incline of his chest, how he was slightly slimmer at the waist. A playful wind danced against the billowing sleeves of his undershirt, which he was stretching towards Elain to offer his hand. She placed her fingers atop his, though she hadn’t the slightest idea why they needed to be holding hands.

“It’s so…” she glanced back over the landscape, surveying it for a word that could describe all she was feeling. “Unsettling.”

“How so?”

Elain tightened her hand on his as she took a careful step away from the carriage. He followed, clearly having no direction in mind with which to lead her, making the offer of his hand all the more curious.

“Everything is dead,” she said. “For miles and miles there is only cold, silent snow.”

“That is unsettling, I suppose,” he conceded.

“Yes, but that I was not finished.”

“Oh?”

Another step, further and further from the carriage she tugged him, where the snow became deeper, and she had to lift her skirts to venture forward. Already, she could feel the cold seeping through her stockings.

“There is no sound,” she said, “but the wind. And there is no soul around, but for you and I. There is no one here to observe us, no expectations to cater to but our own. I am left to confront my own existence.”

Lucien made a small sound of understanding. His fingers tightened. “Harrowing, indeed, one’s own existence.”

It was said like a joke, but she didn’t laugh.

“Do you ever think…” Elain trailed off. Would he even understand? She didn’t want to reveal something vulnerable only for it to be written off as ridiculous.

He squeezed her hand. “Go on.”

“It’s all so strict. The things we cannot say or do. There are so many words inside of me that have been smothered. Do you ever think that we spend so long curating these facades, that we forget ourselves entirely?” Elain scraped her eyes over the barren snow. “What I mean to say is, I scarcely know who I am when there aren’t others around to perform for.”

Wind picked up, gentle in speed but vicious in the chill it wrought against her exposed skin. Elain had never been so aware of her body before—how it tingled with the strangest burning sensation, one that she had always associated with heat. How curious, that the cold could burn.

Lucien, despite having surrendered his jacket, seemed unaffected by the weather. His free hand didn’t curl the same way hers did, attempting to protect her numbed fingers. Posture unguarded, he seemed to be welcoming the snow as he stared at her quizzically.

Having suffered in silence long enough, Elain said, “If you don’t agree—”

“I do agree,” he said. “I fear I know exactly what you mean.”

Oh. Voice soft, she asked, “Then why do you seem so puzzled?”

“I can’t figure out why I would be excluded.”

“From what?”

“The people you need to perform for.”

For a moment, Elain felt equally puzzled. That sentiment hadn’t been intentional, but… she supposed that was what she implied.

Lucien said, “I can’t decide if I should be flattered or offended. Is it because you feel comfortable with me, or because you find my opinion so detestable that you don’t care what I think?”

Either case seemed absurd, considering they’d only met that morning. And yet even from the first moment she saw him, before she had known he was Lucien Vanserra, she had felt strangely and uncommonly comfortable speaking her mind with him.

“You are my husband,” Elain said, as if that were a straightforward answer.

His lips quirked. “Detestable, then.”

“No,” Elain said, finding that his expression was making her feel lighter. “You are my husband, which means that it could be either, depending on the time of day.”

“What about now, then?”

She pursed her lips, turning away from the blushing horizon to marvel at Lucien. He was remarkably unflushed from the cold, but the pink and gold of the setting sun rested across his cheekbones as if nature were blushing for him. He was watching her with an attention Elain was not unaccustomed to. But there was a warmth to it, a gentle curiosity that didn’t make her feel overly self-aware. Instead, it made her feel… seen.

“Comfortable,” she said.

Lucien smiled, bright as the snow at their feet. He used their joined hands to tug her closer and, as if it were a dance, he raised his arm over her head to let the momentum spin her forward. The fabric of her dress was becoming heavier, sodden from the snow, but even so it twirled with the motion, dusting up the loose powder on the surface.

He caught her gracefully as she came out of the spin, dipping her so low that the tips of her hair scraped against the snow. There was laughter in his voice as he asked, “And now?”

“Detestable,” she said. With the way she was grinning, it was not a convincing assessment.

Lucien leaned closer. “Is that so?”

“Yes.”

A challenge flickered in his eyes. “Do you want to see how destable I can be, Elain?”

Her good sense told her not to indulge. But Elain was feeling bold and lightheaded and wanted to see just how deep that mischief lay beneath the surface.

“Yes,” she said again.

With a cruel smile, Lucien dropped his hands. Elain barely had time to register what had happened before she plunged into the deep snow. She sunk through the surface, cold powder rising over and around her as she gasped, flickering belatedly between her surprise and anger.

Lucien peered over at her. He was smirking. “What do you think of the snow?”

It was much less pleasant to be encased in it, she thought agitatedly. Elain kicked out her legs, uncertain how to rise without getting her hands any colder. Lucien watched her struggle whilst looking far too proud of himself, and what was worse is that he seemed to find the situation more amusing the longer it went on.

“Do you need help?” He asked.

With a shriek, Elain grabbed at a handful of snow and lashed it towards him.

He chuckled. “That won’t persuade me to help you.”

Taking pity on her, he leaned over to extend a hand. She grabbed it. Then, with all the ferocity she could muster, she used her grip to tug him off balance. Lucien fell forward—nearly on top of her, if it weren’t for his hands quickly shooting to catch himself, braced on either side of her head. His hair fell into her face, a tangle of red silk that had her spluttering, thrashing her face inelegantly as she attempted to get it out of her mouth.

Lucien was too busy laughing to be any help. Elain was forced to reach up, collecting Lucien’s hair in a fist so that she could get it out of her face and, in doing so, peer directly up into Lucien’s. He was much too close. It was like being back on the altar, except now she could see the clouds of their breath tangle together.

Had he been breathing this quickly then, too? Or was that the adrenaline from falling?

“You know,” Lucien said. He was studying her face, attention flicking from her eyes to her cheeks. To her mouth. “Typically a wife reserves this sort of behavior for the bedroom. And I took you for such a modest lady, too.”

The joke sobered any thought she had of pressing their mouths together. Their position was certainly… compromising.

Elain flushed. “Praytell what opportunity I’d have for such behavior? From my understanding, you and I will be sleeping in separate rooms.”

The heat in Lucien’s expression died, too. He reached up to pry her hands out of his hair. “Cauldron,” he swore once his hands closed over her fingers. “You’re freezing.”

“You dropped me in snow!”

“An oversight,” he said, withdrawing easily from their position. This time when he offered his hand, Elain allowed him to pull her to her feet. “Come, let’s get you out of that dress before you catch a cold.”

She hesitated, looking down at the ruined hem of her skirt. Then back to Lucien. “You don’t mean…”

“Mother-forsake-me, of course I don’t mean now, Elain. Once you’re in the privacy of your own room. We’re nearly to the inn, we can make haste.”

Indeed, Lucien was already rushing towards the carriage, hardly a thought of the wife who had to bundle her wet skirts in her arms to keep up. She couldn’t help feeling that he’d emphasized your own room on purpose. It was their wedding night, and they would be staying in separate rooms, and she of course had known this.

Yet the reminder felt raw. Cold, somehow—like the snow and her limbs and Lucien’s changed demeanor.

He opened the carriage door for her, at least, offering a hand to help her climb inside. But he closed it forcefully enough that she jumped. Then he sighed.

“I’m sorry.”

Elain did her best to square her shoulders—a difficult task, now that her body had begun shivering. “About which part?”

“Dropping you in the snow,” he said. “I was being…”

Playful. She’d like it, until he’d withdrawn from her.

“Unkind.”

She snorted, turning her head towards the window to watch as the valleys of snow passed by. “I’ve heard a rumor that Prince Lucien possesses kindness in short supply.”

“A pity for his wife,” he agreed with a wry smile. “I’ve heard she is extraordinarily kind, and in future I will strive to reflect her kindness back on her.”

Until he proved it, it was all talk. Elain said nothing. She was not prepared to dignify his behavior with forgiveness just yet. Not when she was still trembling, and no amount of wrapping her arms around herself was helpful. The air in the carriage might have been warmer, but the cold still clung to her wet clothes.

“The inn is close by,” Lucien said. “But I can help warm you up, while you wait.”

Elain offered him a flat look.

“Oh, stop.” He wrinkled his nose. “Not like that.”

He stretched his hand toward her, flexing his fingers expectantly. Elain stared for a moment, before she cautiously placed her hand in his. Lucien shut his eyes. It’s what drew her attention to his face—initially because she found it odd, then because she realized she had an opportunity to survey him without triggering that smug, infuriating smile.

In its absence, she could freely admit that he was beautiful. Strong jaw and high cheekbones, Elain searched his face for any sign of King Beron—because surely, if she could look into Lucien’s face and see a glimpse of his father, that would be enough to temper the strange, fluttering feeling that gripped her each time she looked at him. But, fortunately or unfortunately, he was unique in his beauty.

His lips parted open, as though in concentration, and it was only then Elain actually paid any attention to what he was doing. His hand, wrapped around hers, was becoming warmer.

Elain stiffened. “What are you doing?”

“Warming you up.”

“How?”

“Magic.” She yanked her hand away, holding it protectively to her chest. Lucien’s eyes were open, now—wide and confused. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?” She echoed. “Magic is…”

Well, forbidden is what she wanted to say. But that wasn’t the truth anymore. That was her father’s rule and now that she was no longer in Archeron manor… she didn’t know what magic was, anymore.

“It comes at a cost,” she said, echoing the familiar refrain of Nesta and her governess.

“Yes,” Lucien said patiently. “I’m paying it.”

“What’s the cost?”

“Energy. I’m going to heat up your hands and take a nice, long nap afterwards.”

“That’s all?”

He looked bemused. “Yes, Elain, that’s all.”

Slowly, she placed her hand back in his. Magic. To think he used it so casually, like it was nothing at all. She didn’t know how much she could press him on the subject. Could she ask about the true love spell without arousing suspicion?

Lucien hummed as though in afterthought. “Though I suppose I should mention that a curse may fall on your firstborn child, but that shouldn’t be a problem considering—”

“That’s not funny,” she snapped.

She knew he was teasing, because he’d been smiling. Now, he was studying her, as though it were shocking to him that she would have such a severe reaction to something he’d said so lightly. Elain could practically see him trace over his words, connecting them with the stern lines of her frown.

He winced, finally, like his meaning caught up to him. “You’re right, lady. It was not funny, and I apologize. All I mean to do is help you.”

Elain pulled her hand away, folding it into her wet lap. “I think I’ve had enough of your help today, your highness.”

She told herself that though there was remorse in his expression, that didn’t mean he was owed her forgiveness. To speak so tactlessly about having children when he was the one denying them to her… Elain thought she at least owed him the silence he had paid her for the majority of the day, when she had acted insensitively.

“Very well,” Lucien said, bowing his head to her. He looked pained. “We’ll be at the inn shortly.”

Soon enough, Elain was welcomed by the sound of the carriage wheels rolling over loose stone. They slowed to a stop, the horses whinnying as the lulling clop of hooves finally quieted. Elain was so frozen in her dress that she wasn’t certain she could have moved quickly if she wanted to. Lucien had no such excuse, but he still seemed to hesitate for a moment before exiting the carriage.

Elain ignored his outstretched hand. She didn’t care if she looked graceless climbing out of the carriage—her stiff and soaking dress would mean she looked graceless, regardless. Nevermind that she was still wearing her husband’s jacket, which was equally wet and hardly keeping her warm, yet she couldn’t find it in herself to return it. She would keep it, if only to be spiteful.

“Ho there!” A man came rushing out of the inn, clutching a handheld lantern which he raised to cast them in better light. When he caught sight of Lucien, he scrambled into a bow, “Your highness.”

“If it’s not too much trouble, I request we make haste inside.” Lucien gestured to Elain. “The lady is freezing.”

“Certainly.” The man, who Elain presumed to be the innkeeper, fumbled at his breast pocket for a ring of keys before gesturing them inside. “Right this way.”

They followed him through a series of wood paneled hallways, then up a set of stairs. Lucien had to duck so as not to hit his head on the ceiling’s wooden beams. Elain, still cross, let herself smile at the idea that he might.

Her smile fell away when they stopped in front of one of the doors, and the innkeeper unlocked it for her. “This is your room, my lady. And his highness’s room is just down the hall.”

Elain glanced back at her husband, unsurprised but still disappointed.

“Enjoy your wedding night,” she said, frigidly, before walking into the bedroom and shutting the door.

Why not lock it, for good measure? It took more effort than usual, the key trembling in her fingers. Some warmth was returning to them, now, and she could feel each of them throb with their own tiny heartbeats. Maybe she would lock it later, once the footsteps faded. Elain rested her forehead against the door to listen, but all she could hear was her own heart splintering in her chest.

Alone. On her wedding night. It was a blessing, she assured herself, but that didn’t chase away the cold, lurching feeling of rejection. Maybe sitting in front of the hearth would.

She turned the key in the lock, listening to it click. The footman could deposit her trunk outside, or better yet, with Lucien. For now… for now she just had to get out of these Cauldron forsaken clothes. The ice leached all the way through, so Elain stripped herself bare before she settled atop the fur rug before the hearth.

The absence of the wet fabric was a relief. Whereas the absence of company… that still stung.

Elain angled her head towards the heap that had become of her dress and petticoats. She supposed she didn’t need to be alone. The innkeeper would likely be bringing dinner soon, but he could deposit it beside her trunk. She had no appetite in her state.

She wanted to pretend that it took her longer to consider it. That she waited there for hours deliberating over the morality of seeking the butterfly wings Nesta had given her. She wanted to have reservations, on her wedding night of all evenings, but it was horrifyingly easy to slip her hand into the pocket of her petticoat and withdraw the pouch of wings.

The only difficult part, really, was placing a bug’s wing in her mouth.

After that, it was only a matter of falling asleep. And waking to darkness.

Elain pressed a hand to the cool, silk sheets beneath her. A far cry from the fur rug she’d fallen asleep on. She wondered, briefly, where the dreams took her. Was it her old room from Archeron manor? Having never wandered further from the mattress, it was difficult to tell. But she didn’t think so. The feel of the bedding, the smell… it was different.

“You’re here?”

Thoughts of their location quickly abandoned, Elain scrambled to the edge of the bed, trying to peer in the direction of the voice.

“I’m here,” she said to the darkness.

“On your wedding night?”

The question caught her off guard. She faltered, uncertain how to answer.

“My apologies, lady, I didn’t mean to be insensitive. I only mean to say… I suppose I’m just surprised you came. A-are you okay?”

Elain pressed her lips together. She knew what he thought happened, and she supposed she should assure him that her husband had not forced himself on her. He was, in fact, not the least bit the monster that she had expected him to be. Would that be consoling to her true love, or the opposite?

“It’s been a long day,” she said. It was honest.

“I’m sure it has been.”

His footsteps echoed as he tentatively walked towards the bed. She had the sense he made them louder for her sake, so that she was not startled by his approach.

“Is… Please tell me, is there anything I can do?”

Elain was certain that he was close enough now she could reach out and touch him. She recalled how warm his touch had been last night. And the cold still clung to her, even in sleep. Was he capable of soothing it?

“Could you just—hold me? Please?”

Though she had tried to maintain her composure, her voice cracked involuntarily on the please. And maybe the snow had turned her brittle, because that small crack was all that she needed to break. Elain pressed her hand to mouth, trying desperately to smother the sob building in her throat. She hadn’t wanted to come here to cry.

“Of course I can.” He sounded distressed. By her voice, or something else? “I’m going to touch you now. Is that okay?”

Elain nodded, but of course he didn’t see.

“Sweetheart, please. You need to tell me ‘yes’ or ‘no’.”

Answering him meant removing her hand from her mouth. She didn’t want to speak—she didn’t trust her voice not to crumble. If she spoke, then the tears would surely come, and she wanted to fight them off as long as possible.

“In here, my love, you only get touched on your terms. If you can’t speak, why don’t you grab my hand? I’m standing right in front of you.”

With her free hand, Elain reached blindly into the dark. It didn’t take long to find his waiting hand—warm, like she remembered. Gentle.

“Good,” he said. “Now, do you want me to get on the bed with you? Squeeze once if you do, twice if not.”

She was already feeling calmer just from the way he was speaking to her. In all of her bouts of emotion over the years, no one had ever braced them with such patience. Such… kindness. Elain lowered her hand from her mouth. Her voice crackled as she said, “I’d like for you to get on the bed.”

“Ah, she found her voice. I’m glad.” The bed shifted slightly beneath his weight. “And if you ever feel like you can’t speak while we’re in here, just remember: one squeeze for yes, two for no.”

“Thank you.”

“There’s nothing to thank me for. Do you want to lie down together?”

She searched the question for any underlying meaning. It had been nice when he’d touched her yesterday—more than—but if that was what he was offering, she wasn’t certain that was something she wanted. Not tonight.

It seemed like he responded best to honesty. “I don’t want to… to…”

“Of course not,” he said. “I won’t touch you anywhere unless you explicitly ask me to.”

“Okay,” she whispered.

He moved himself further onto the bed. She could feel the weight shift towards the middle, where he’d presumably stretched himself out, head against the pillows as if they would be going to sleep.

“Come here,” he murmured.

It was a tedious game not to accidentally nudge him somewhere delicate as she crawled towards him, feeling ahead with her hands. She gently patted his stomach, then his chest. It felt oddly catlike, pawing her way to lay down, though she could only hope she had half the grace of a feline as she laid herself down beside her true love, head resting against his steady heart.

“There,” he said. His arm came around her shoulders and he began rubbing slow circles against her back. “We can stay like this as long as you want.”

“Forever?”

It was a suggestion filled with melancholy, since they both knew that regardless of any promises made here, in the morning they would have no choice but to be ripped from each other all over again.

“Forever,” he said back.

Because what was a lie, when the truth would only break their hearts? And what was forever, when between the measly hours of dawn and dusk, she could listen to her true love’s heart beat in time with her own? Forever was overrated, anyhow.

#elucienweek2023 #Elucien #Elucien fic #Elucien fanfiction #Elain x Lucien #Lucien x Elain #Blaze in the Dark

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