#i don’t even know why i have such vehement paranoid dislike | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

accidental-host · 2 years

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This is worded so weirdly because it’s just me ranting, but I had to get it out

Some Thoughts: Clotted Cream is right

DISCLAIMER: This is posted before the next part of the update, they have not arrived to the Republic yet at the time of me writing this. I do not care if this ages poorly.

The point:

Honestly, I did not think this was controversial before checking out the fandom’s reaction to the first days of the update. But since it is, I wanted to give my two cents because I have seen some takes I REALLY disagree with on here. This whole ramble is pretty much just my take on this whole moral dilemma.

YES, Clotted Cream was insensitive about the way he approached the Ancients about his proposition. YES, he went too far comparing Dark Cacao to Enchantress, YES he should not have been the one to break the news that White Lily was Dark Enchantress and he had no right to do that in such a setting. But this isn’t entirely about that.

Clotted Cream was ABSOLUTELY correct about his point of splitting the power of the Soul Jam / researching them to find a way to harness the power better for the good of everyone. I have seen A LOT of people calling him an idiot for even proposing it, saying he’s clearly evil, but I really don’t think that’s the case.

It IS weird that warriors are expected to die for the cause of fights between immortals battling over their power that the common solider will never be able to even fathom. It IS weird that this infinite incredible power is being held entirely by a select few, while mortals die whenever an Ancient isn’t there to swoop in. The ancients cannot be everywhere at once, they should understand that better than anybody.

Madeleine’s perspective is from of a side of this war the Ancients do not see. This is the plight of mortals, expected to fight and die over power they themselves will never experience, they are fighting for the right of the Ancients. Clotted Cream himself is mortal, the Republic does not have an Ancient, they have come to a different conclusion about this fight than the Ancients have.

And Hollyberry and Dark Cacao acknowledge this very little.

From what Clotted Cream himself knows, Dark Enchantress is one of the ancients that was corrupted by power. Mortals are dying in battles over a war that comes down to power they won’t ever hold. The remaining ancients are vehemently refusing to give up the same power that corrupted their friend.

With him knowing all of this, coming to the conclusion of the power being distributed more evenly is incredibly understandable and a reasonable thing to want. It is understandable for the Ancients to be skeptical, or even paranoid about what will come of their power. But I think a lot of this fandom has interpreted this so oddly and fail to acknowledge how nuanced the situation is.

Getting this out of the way:

I have not seen enough leaks to know the entire story of the update, and at this point I usually stay away from them and prefer to experience it firsthand.

I do believe the Republic has ulterior motives, this is not about that and I do not care if it ends up being that the Republic actually is evil and the Ancients were right. This is about Clotted Cream’s original point that he presented to the Ancients, and how it is incredibly reasonable and logical and born from a care for mortals who have lived and died unacknowledged in the war over Soul Jam.

Honestly, I will think it’s HORRIBLY wasted potential if Clotted Cream turns out to be a stereotypical twist villain, à la Hans Frozen. I will think that’s lame as hell and I really hope that isn’t how this update goes.

In conclusion:

Clotted Cream was right. And some of y’all are really letting your blind hatred of this character get in the way of understanding the complicated/nuanced situation of fantasy politics. No, I don’t dislike the Ancients and this post is not Ancients slander. They are flawed characters that are written very well, and how layered/interesting their characters are is exactly why it’s so fun to see them presented with moral dilemmas like this.

If this ages poorly, I will not change my stance. Clotted Cream’s original point is right and he is 100% justified in in.

#cookie run #cookie run kingdom #clotted cream cookie #hollyberry cookie #dark cacao cookie #analysis post #yes I am a clotted cream apologist but not in the bad way #really wanted to get this out before the next part of the update drops

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imagine-darksiders · 3 years

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I hope you feel better soon! When you're feeling better would you be able to write something about jealous Strife? That ask made me curious

“Do you really have to go?”

From your seat at the vanity, you heave an exasperated sigh and set down your lipstick, swivelling around in the chair to face the Horseman who stands sulking at your bedroom door.

“Strife,” you begin patiently, “I'm afraid my answer still hasn't changed since you asked me ten minutes ago.”

“Yeah, I know. It's just -” Averting his gaze, he crosses his arms and grumbles, “I thought we were gonna hang out tonight.”

“And I told you two weeks ago that I wouldn't be around tonight.”

You can't see his expression, hidden as it is behind the silver helm he wears, but you're fairly confident in guessing that there's a pout on his lips.

“And besides,” you add, “We hang out all the time. You practically live here. Hell, you've already turned my spare bedroom into your own personal den.”

'Den' is an understatement. Your spare room is now less of a bedroom more of an Earth museum, filled from floor to ceiling with all of the things that Strife has picked up simply because they took his fancy. For the most part, it's all junk. There's an obsolete gaming console that no longer works, a skateboard, a horse figurine made of glass, no less than three Nerf guns and not a foam dart between them...

Honestly, you're loathe to tell him to get rid of any of it, though you fear you might have to soon if you don't want the mess spilling out into the rest of your house.

Giving your head an exasperated shake, you check the time on your phone and stand up, throwing your bag over a shoulder. “Listen, it's just one evening with an old friend who I haven't seen since before the apocalypse. We can hang out tomorrow, I promise. But now, I really need to dash, he'll be here to pick me up any minute.”

Pausing to stuff your phone into the pocket of your trousers, you head towards the door, hardly noticing that the Horseman is still standing in front of it with his arms folded neatly across a broad, armoured chest. It's only because you glance up right at the last second that you manage to avoid a painful collision. “Um...Strife?” you ask, halting in your tracks, “... Move?”

In response, he simply leans back against your door and begins to inspect the claws on one of his gauntlets. “Nah... I'd rather hear about this friend of yours. You've never mentioned him.” Pausing, he shoots you a sly smirk that you can sense more than see, his golden eyes flashing, “You guys close?”

With a roll of your eyes, you mimic his posture, crossing your arms and giving him a glare that would make Death proud. “Strife, what's gotten into you? I just said I'm going to be late for my friend.”

“Yeah, I get that,” he returns coolly, “Just wanna know that my friend isn't walking into a trap.”

“Oh wow – a trap? Really? Of all the-” You cut yourself off and raise a hand, massaging at your temple. “Okay. Now you're just being ridiculous. It's not a trap.”

“Why don't you let me come with you, just in case?”

“Because!” you cry, throwing your arms up, “It'll be awkward! You remember what I taught you about third-wheeling?”

He remembers it well, in fact. Just like he remembers everything you teach him, committing the moments to memories that he'll carry with him until the day he snuffs it. He only has you for less than a hundred years, after all, and he's determined to remember every last bit of it. The Universe must have thought itself pretty hilarious when it placed you in his life. Of all the creatures in all the realms, the one he ends up caring about most just so happens to be the one with the shortest lifespan. It makes him want to hunt down the Creator and shoot a hole where a heart might be.

Shoving down his contempt for the omnipotent bastard, Strife returns his attention to you and lifts his shoulders in a shrug. “I don't mind tagging along. You know, just in case I have to watch your back.”

Your response hits him harder than a crack from Fury's whip. “I don't need you to watch my back every second of every day! Stop being so paranoid.”

The Horseman is too proud and obstinate to ever let the stab of hurt show in his eyes, but he can't ignore its presence in his chest.

He is not being paranoid... He's being a good friend - watching your back, looking out for you, all the things a friend is supposed to do. Not that he's had much experience being friends with a human. Or anyone, for that matter, who isn't a horse or his siblings. It's been a learning curve for both of you, though more-so for him, and so far, the most prominent challenge he's faced is balancing the line between being a friend and being an overprotective nuisance.

It perhaps hasn't helped that, ever since humanity was resurrected, the pair of you have been nigh inseparable. He's grown used to your presence – is dependant upon in, according to Death; a fact that Strife had vehemently tried to deny, at least until he learned that you'd made plans. Plans with someone else. Plans that didn't involve him.

It was only once he'd taken some time to reflect and found that he had indeed been glued to your side for months, that he realised the awful truth.

His older brother was right, after all. The smug ass.

A shudder rolls over the Horseman's body and he blinks, realising that in the few seconds he's been lost in thought, you've managed to reach around him to push open your bedroom door.

“Hey!” he complains as you all but shove past, and he – being the soft-touch that he is – simply allows himself to be moved aside. Grumbling, he follows you across the landing and down your sweeping staircase until you reach the front door and stop beside it.

From outside, the thunderous roar of an approaching, automobile's engine thrums in his ears.

“That's him!” you chirp, and Strife hates the way your face lights up at the mention of whoever 'he' is.

Throwing open your door, you head outside and try to pull it shut behind you, yet find your efforts abruptly halted by the Horseman sticking close to your heels. He ducks through the low doorframe and moves to stand beside you, his viciously keen gaze raking over the vehicle that idles at the end of your driveway.

By his own admission, Strife has always had a weakness for those 'motor bikes' the humans like to ride, with their shiny gaskets and noisy engines. But this one – the one upon whom sits a tall, lanky human – Strife does not care for.

“Anton!” you call out, flying down the driveway, splaying your arms out wide in anticipation of a hug.

'Anton' laughs brightly and kicks down the bike's stand as he leaps from the seat, his own arms only just opening in time to receive you when you crash into him with a whoop of delight.

As soon as those long, stringy arms wrap around your shoulders, the Horseman's hackles raise like a feral beast's and the sudden presence of Anarchy begins to claw at the confines of his ribcage. For a few moments, he wrestles with himself, weighing the pros and cons of letting his most primal form take over for a while, but after envisioning the disapproving frown that's sure to adorn your face should he pull such a stunt, he bitterly shoves a reluctant Anarchy back down and settles upon prowling down the gravel drive after you, glaring hard at the stranger the entire way. Admittedly, he is a little surprised at himself for the animosity. On the whole, he's always maintained a good rapport with other humans. He likes the species, a lot. So to suddenly be filled with such a strong disliking for this particular human strikes him as odd and out of character.

Then, Anton's hands slide down to your lower back and another bout of indignant fury flares up in the Horseman's belly. After what he thinks is, quite frankly, an obscene amount of time, the stranger releases you, holding onto your shoulders and leaning back to get a better look at your face.

“God, it's good to see you, Y/n,” he drawls, eyeing you from head to toe in a way that makes the Horseman's skin crawl, “I can't believe it! You've changed so much!”

Grinning shyly up at him, you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear and reply, “Hopefully for the better?”

His own smile widens. “You were always at your best, even before the apocalypse. Still, being Humanity's Hero seems to be really suiting you, huh?”

At once, your expression falls and you pull a face, extracting yourself from his grasp. “Oh god, don't call me that. I've told the media till I'm blue in the face - the Horsemen are the ones who deserve to be called heroes. Oh, speaking of whom...” You turn to face the looming presence at your side and gesture up to Strife. “I'd like to introduce you to a friend of mine.”

Anton's gaze leaves you long enough to flick over towards the Horseman and you watch as he does a very comical double-take, his eyes bulging for a moment before he manages to compose himself again and lifts his hand in greeting. “Hey! You must be one of those Horseman guys. Death, right?”

Noticing that the Nephilim's hands curl suddenly into tight fists, you interject, “Uh, actually, this is Strife, Tones.”

“Tones?” He really does try to keep the disdain from his voice when he switches his burning, golden glare between you and the other human. “I thought you said his name was Anton?”

How many other friends do you have?

“It's a nickname, Strife,” you reassure him quickly, “This is Anton.”

A nickname... Of course. The Horseman's stomach twists itself into a knot and he can't stop himself from blurting out, “How come you've never given me a nickname?”

The human concept surrounding abbreviated names was a fairly easy one for him to grasp when he first learned of them. They're terms of endearment, meant to signify familiarity and friendship.

He's your friend. He's familiar. Why doesn't he have a nickname too?

"Ugh, I'm sorry. We'll brainstorm nicknames when I get back," you huff, "But the restaurant will give our table away if we don't hurry. So -"

Turning to usher Anton onto the bike, you hardly manage to take one step before a large, metal hand is sliding around your forearm and tugging you gently to a halt. Biting back a groan, you glance over your shoulder, ready to scold him, but one look at his slouched stance and averted gaze stops you in your tracks.

"Uh. Hey, Tones?" you call, never taking your eyes off the Horseman's mask, "Can you give us a sec?"

The human behind you is careful to check that Strife isn't looking when he rolls his eyes and grunts in acknowledgement before he turns and saunters over to his bike, leaning up against it and pulling out his phone.

Once Anton has turned his attention elsewhere, you raise a brow at the Horseman and wait, patient, expectant. After working his jaw for a moment or two, he finally looks at you properly and tightens his grip on your arm, not until it's painful, but enough that you understand what he's trying to convey in the gesture.

He really doesn't want you to go.

"Strife?" you prod.

Reluctantly, he lets out a rough exhale.

Although he's far better at it than his siblings, watching Strife try to openly express emotion isn't unlike watching someone pull their own teeth out with a pair of pliers. The process is slow, and it's best to sit back and listen to him rather than try to encourage him to speak. So, that's what you do, and eventually, your patience is rewarded when after another few seconds of silence, he offers a strained chuckle and says, "This guy isn't my replacement, is he? I know the bike is cool, and all, but..."

"Your replacement?" you laugh, incredulous, "Strife. I don't know how it worked with Nephilim, but for humans, having another friend doesn't cancel out any existing ones."

He knows that. He's not some whelp who never learned how to share. Frustrated with himself, the Horseman huffs and turns his head to the side, glaring hard at nothing in particular.

"Hey..." An old habit kicks in, and before you can stop yourself, you reach up to trace your fingertips along the underside of Strife's helm, tipping it back towards you and smiling at the bewildered look in his yellow eyes. Confident that he's paying proper attention, you pull your hand away again and state, "I could search the whole universe from top to bottom for the next hundred, thousand years, and I'd never find a friend who could replace you, okay? So stop worrying. Your ranking as 'my best friend' is not under threat."

"M'not worrying," he grumbles, but inside, his heart is aglow with the warmth of your words. At the back of his mind, Anarchy rumbles happily. You said best!... He's your best friend? He tries to recall you ever calling him that before. Then he realises that, no, you can't have done. He wouldn't forget a moment like that. Not in a million years. Just like he won't forget how he feels right now after hearing those two words.

Oblivious to the fate you've just sealed for yourself, you clap your hands together, bringing the conversation to what you hope is an easy conclusion. "Good. In that case, will you please let me go with Anton now?"

The Horseman's mood sours almost immediately, but at least he peels his fingers off your arm.

"Hey, kid?" he address Anton, packing his voice with all the menace and threat that he can muster, "If I find out she gets hurt on your watch, I'll introduce you to a couple'a friends of mine..." His hands fall less-than subtly to his holsters, where the silver handles of Mercy and Redemption glint in the sunlight.

Anton's face pales upon seeing the Horseman's legendary pistols.

"Stop that," you scold him, smacking the back of your hand against the armoured chest plate before turning to your other friend and calling, "Come on, Tones, let's go."

Anton all but throws himself onto his bike, kicking the stand back and jamming his keys into the ignition whilst you climb on behind him, albeit far more gracefully. The man tosses you a helmet and you shove it onto your head.

Strife's eyes remain settled upon your hands that wrap snugly around Anton's waist and it takes everything in him not to grab you, haul you off the bike, drag you back to your home and lock you inside.

“I'll be back late tonight,” you call over the roar of the engine as you begin to pull away, “There's food in the fridge if you want to eat! And my Netflix is still logged in! I'll see you later, okay!?”

Strife doesn't respond, not because he can't think of what to say, but because there would be no point. Anton has already peeled away and pushed the bike to a reckless speed. All the Horseman can do is stand there at the end of your driveway, his shoulders drooping dejectedly.

After you're nothing more than a dot on the far horizon, he tears his eyes off you and lets them fall to the tarmac near his boots.

He never notices you looking back.

#darksiders #darksiders genesis #Strife #reader #jealousy

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bayern-moni · 3 years

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On the scale of 0-10, how much do you want to kick Madara's ass, Mito?

Mito: It goes between 7/10 in normal circumstances to 1000/10 when he purposely behaves like a scassapalle ( = pain in the ass but not quite that exactly).

Sometimes, I do want to kick his ass because it seems to be the only thing able to stop him from being too unnecessarily contrarious just for the sake of it, in a self-(and others)destructive way. Because, sometimes, Madara isn't able to see his own bullshit if nobody points it out to him, but unfortunately the only way Madara'd let himself listen to others' reason is if that person is able to beat it into him.

So be it, I'm fine with it and he is too. We made this deal and that's the start of our friendship, did you know?

So, I don't really want to kick Madara's ass per se, most of the time, even though he IS aggravating more often than what it's healthy. And grumpy, and rude, jumpy, spiteful, unforgiving, paranoid old-born man. Although his discretion, sarcastic spite and no-bullshit attitude can even be useful and entertaining when directed to the right people (and when you know how to channel him into them to prevent him from spiraling into even more twisted dramatics than those you're trying to run from). The point I'm trying to make is: you learn to handle a fight-or-fight, cornered and blunt cat and you'll know how to deal with Madara. So, I managed to reach a mutually respectful relationship with him, in spite of everything, because when he's not being ... well, himself, he's a very intelligent man and I enjoy our conversations. Although I really did want to kick his ass when I had no choice but to seal the Kyuubi into myself to help Hashirama in the Valley of the End. Because, only because HE thought that bringing a fucking Bijou at the edge of the village in order to fight Hashirama was a good idea, it does not mean that it is one. It wasn't. Not in the least, it was unnecessary and dramatic, even by his standards. I made peace with the fact I'm the first jinchuriki in Konoha early, so it's less of a big deal than it could have been, but still.

Paradoxically, I have to admit that the moments when I find him most annoying are those when he isn't even there. I'm talking about my own husband's apparent obsession with him and the (too many, if you ask me) times he just can't seem to be able to shut up about him. He told me the river story so many times I'm sure I could recite it in my sleep. I'm starting to feel like I'll be better off asking for a divorce and leave Hashirama to him out of spite. I'm sure my sanity would thank me if I did, but unfortunately I love Hashirama very much so I won't. Madara'd send him back to me within a day when the urge to strangle him for his overbearing attitude becomes too much, anyway, so it wouldn't even be a problem. In fact complaining about Hashirama's obnoxious antics with Madara is always funny, when I hear of people thinking that Hashi is a cause of contention/dislike between us I think it's just plain stupid, it's not like that at all. I know that Hashirama loves me, like he loves his brother, even Madara in a sense as well as the village.

But sometimes I feel as if all the years he spent associating his idea of peace with the alliance with the Uchiha, consequently his unwavering conviction that the only way he could achieve both was to necessarily bind Madara, the Uchiha clanhead, back to their old bond whatever it took (because it wasn't broken it was still there no matter what anyone thought it still was a gift from the divine) made him come to unconsciously link in his mind the very village's hopes of stability with Madara's own very ill-balanced stability and good will towards it.

In Hashirama's world, if Madara is pacified and he doesn't disrupt the village's armony for any reason, then the village will be fine, but the opposite is also true. Village is peace, peace is the dream, the village is the(ir?) dream (transitive property is the key here), but there's a sour, dissonant note: that's a very dangerous, unstable line of thinking, for all of us, himself and Madara included.

Because, differently from what Hashirama thinks, in Madara's vision, himself and that dream no longer coincide since when their bond was severed and it awakened his Sharingan at the river as a consequence. Their very definitions of that dream differed at the root. The mechanism stopped working, the gears need to be rearranged, not to be seen as the same as before, in order to keep working together. He's not the same as when they were little anymore and it isn't even only about Izuna's death but Madara himself. In fact it started before that, Izuna's death is one of the aggravating factors, not the trigger. Hashirama deep down knows it but he vehemently insists on ignoring it with all his might and that's what is deepening the fracture between them.

Hashirama refuses to see Madara for what he is but he wants to see only the kid he met at the river, because that kid is the one who gave Hashirama the confidence that his dream was possible. He still, genuinely, stubbornly believes that that kid still exists somewhere, because he must exist, because if Madara still believes in their village and keeps on giving him that confidence (that is, if Madara still behaves with Hashirama like that kid would, even while slowly breaking beyond repair on the inside), then eventually all will be fine and everything will adjust itself given enough time and hope. But when he doesn't, Hashirama becomes nearly paranoid and desperately tries whatever he can think of in the hope of tying Madara to their dream of the village again, this time possibly forever and indefinitely: calling him his brother (as if for Madara their real brothers weren't the only real bond while theirs is a breaking thread next to a fine but now forever severed cloth); nudging him to see Konoha villagers as they were his new family now that he lost his own (well knowing what kind of visceral bond that'd be if it were completed given that Madara is involved); giving him hope that he could be Hokage, a hope Hashirama didn't know it'd be crushed and burned to the roots by such a public humiliation. The worst part is that Hashirama doesn't even seem to be aware of half of these psychological issues of his. However, that's the person Hashirama sees, not the real Madara, never his adult, despairing, fierce-but-borderline-suicidal version. And Madara knows it, he resents it and will keep to silently poison himself with that knowledge in total, stubborn solitude until it will inevitably make him rot to the bone and erase the rest of the world with him. All of this while seeing all the underlying not-yet-born-but-still-there faults in the village's very system and Hashirama's rule! But, instead of just saying it so we can try to limit the damage, he just keeps them for himself as the indisputable proof of how the whole system is doomed to failure. To be honest, I do know why he doesn't talk, though, and that's because nobody'd listen to what is only considered an unstable, belligerent madman's apocalyptic words, no matter how prophetic they'll reveal themselves to be in the years. These are still other big reasons why I want to kick his ass, though, and I suspect that he knows. Count another reason, then.

They are just... Ahrg. Just talk, guys, like the mature people you ARE supposed to be but will never be. You understand that I'm in the middle of that, don't you? It gives me a massive headache on a good day and lately more often than not they make it a shitty day. I'm tired of constantly having to listen to Hashirama complaining about Madara this, Madara that, just because they're not sincere enough to just TALK and settle their differences within the limits of what it's actually possible, and because they don't talk about it (and when they do it seems like they are threading through two or three different discourses at the same time that nothing have to do with the problem at hand) they will never understand each other like they clearly need to and then we have to solve all the problems their bullshit leaves behind.

I'm not saying that they could resolve those problems by just talking, because they are too big for only the two of them and they often involve how something like world peace should be achieved. So, you understand why they'll never see eye to eye on that. But talking could be a start.

Mine feels like a full-time, underpaid and overly frustrating, babysitting job. Sometimes, I just want to kick both of their asses for being purposely (Madara) and unconsciously (Hashirama) difficult.

Sorry for my ramblings, but as a woman, a kunoichi and a wife I needed to vent a bit and too few people ask for my opinion nowadays, our self-appointed author first and foremost.

P. S.: I do want to kick his ass when he steals my hairpins out of spite after I have beaten him and Tobirama at shogi. 8/10, then.

For @dinainwater

It definitely got out of hand in the end 🤣 Rambling has always been a problem for me and rarely I manage to actually restrain myself, but I promise eventual next answers won't be this long. So, I hope it hasn't bored you (?) 😅. But I felt like Mito needed to make her opinion matter, so it was worth!

(If the reasoning explained above seemed twisted and unnecessarily difficult, it's because those two have a deeply unhealthy relationship)

However, thank you for your ask like always and I hope you enjoyed it 😁 whatever other question is always welcomed, don't worry 😊

#naruto shippuden #character meme #mito #mito uzumaki #madara uchiha #hashirama senju #tobirama senju #ask #ask me anything

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notsosensational · 4 years

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This is my classpect master post for Danganronpa 1! I just replayed the game so it’s fresh in my mind, and I tried to keep these fairly short so I cut out some of the smaller details. Feel free to tell me what you like or what you don’t. I will be reblogging with thoughts about Touko and Genocider Sho. Also check out @jinjojess post about the DR1 classpects! I compared a lot of my thoughts with theirs!

Naegi Makoto - Witch of Heart

-actively manipulates feelings and sense of self. He is not very confident in himself, we know this from the beginning, and I think that manifests as acting as a Seer of Mind pretty often. It gets him pretty far in the trials, but his true talent lies in getting people on his side. Sayaka was into him before she even talked to him, and throughout the game people come to him for help concerning things to do with emotions and sense of self (Touko & Byakuya, Kiyotaka & Mondo twice). Not to mention, he’s labelled “ultimate hope”, which is due to him being able to boost everyone’s spirits (change their mood).

Asahina Aoi - Sylph of Hope

-passively heals positivity, possibilities, and beliefs. I really wanted to go with life for her, but while she’s full of energy, she’s not all that concerned about growth or overcoming obstacles, she just wants things to turn out well and that’s more in the realm of positivity and possibility. When Sakura’s secret was out, Aoi was most concerned with how to get the rest of them to believe her and to believe in Sakura; she needed to heal the group’s faith. She consistently believes in everyone, even though she is frequently disappointed, and the only exception to this is Byakuya and Touko after they insult Sakura.

Togami Byakuya - Prince of Life

-actively destroys growth and energy. His manner is very, very prince-like, “I’m the best and I can’t understand why no one else sees that”, not to mention he’s basically a literal prince of his family. He’s very quick to shoot people down and destroy their spirit, their energy, and during investigations he’s either no help at all, or antagonistic. All of the life players we’ve seen in HS have been on top of the food chain, the Peixes blood color and Jane’s Crocker corporation, which are both comparable to the Togami family. Before the killing game, he was most concerned with growing stocks, owning businesses, and obtaining knowledge he will use when he is the monarch of his family, which all seem life-like.

Celestia Ludenburg - Heir of Void

-passively changes misfortune and secrets. Originally I had her as light, but she doesn’t really care about information, only keeping secrets. She doesn’t use fortune to her favor, instead she just *is* luckier than the others, i.e. changing everyone else’s misfortune. She’s not actually that active though- she doesn’t do it on purpose and she doesn’t do a lot in general as she prefers to get others to do stuff for her. But she does play into the heiress persona, changing her name to seem like nobility and wanting dozens of servants.

Fujisaki Chihiro - Page of Doom

-actively exploits and is served restrictions and suffering. She is very clearly doom, as she is very empathetic due to her suffering in life, in addition to being a programmer when doom is linked to coding. I really can’t see anything else. Her being a page is also pretty clear- a slow growing class that tends to put up a facade, and is linked to a servant archetype when Alter Ego was basically the team’s servant. Her main desire is to help the rest of them even after her death through the restrictions that Alter Ego has.

Yamada Hifumi - Rogue of Light

-passively steals information and substance. I considered a number of possibilities for him, settling on light first. He has the rambley, self-important dialogue of a light player, he collects information about his interests in anime and fanfiction, and he creates fanfic. While creation isn’t light specific, taking the info and substance from an anime and rehashing it into his own stories sounds like a rogue of light. He is later a servant to Celeste, who feeds him lies and misfortune; he could be called a Page of Void at that point, which is fitting with Celestia’s void aspect.

Ishimaru Kiyotaka - Knight of Time

-passively exploits and serves through time. He’s very strict about time, being on time and using time wisely. Not just for himself though, he wants everyone to hold the same policies he has. He wants to have an environment where everyone is able to give it their all- he wants to exploit the time he has in order to serve everyone. His inversion is Thief of Space, and I think we see this in “Kiyondo Ishida”, as he seems to steal Alter Ego’s creation to add another dimension to himself. And- this is just my opinion- I also think he ghosts his inversion pretty often even before that, due to the impact of the disreputation of his grandfather and his vehement dislike of “geniuses”.

Kirigiri Kyouko - Maid of Mind

-actively creates and heals logic and decisions. She eluded me for a while tbh. I thought light first, but while she focuses on finding the truth, other information isn’t as important, and she doesn’t seem to match any other markers of light. Instead she seems more like Terezi, a mind player who likes law and detective work. Kyouko creates a path of decisions that surround a crime, and she uses logic to help Makoto make the right choices. She is outwardly cold and focuses on controlling her emotions, which makes me suspect she ghosts her inversion as a Bard of Heart due to her lost sense of self.

Kuwata Leon - Rogue of Breath

-passively steals and relocates freedom and direction. I understand him to have only come into himself recently. I think for most of his life he was ghosting as a Page of Blood, getting served bonds and obligations that he didn’t really want but exploiting them so he was free to do things other than study. When he was accepted at Hope’s Peak, he finally took his freedom and decided that he was going to do what he was driven to do, which is pursuing music. Rogue also fits into the outcast archetype of his alternative/punk style of clothes and personality.

Oowada Mondo - Bard of Blood

-passively destroys bonds and obligations. Blood is everything to him, his brother and his gang are most important, and his word and his promises are solid. But his brother died for his recklessness, he lied about it, he killed Chihiro which exposed her secret even though he tried to cover it up, and he broke Taka’s spirit when he died. He destroys the bonds around him passively, without meaning to, and his secret and his act of killing were both fairly out of the blue. No one really expected that of him- certainly not Kiyotaka, and that fits a bard’s MO.

Oogami Sakura - Maid of Blood

-actively creates relationships and bonds. She is defined by her bond to her family and her bond to her destiny. She is devoted to growing stronger, which made me think life, but she’s growing stronger to fulfill her duty and keep the respect of her family, not to overcome obstacles. That aspect though, the desire to help everyone else become stronger too, that’s very maid/sylph. She’s fairly passive, but definitely not passive enough for sylph, and she tends to focus more on creating new bonds especially regarding ones with herself, rather than healing preexisting ones.

Maizono Sayaka - Mage of Void

-actively knows misfortune and secrets. She tells Makoto that she’s known from a young age that she will have to do anything to reach her dreams, and she acts on her understanding of that misfortune which leads to her death. She focuses more on the misfortune and nothingness part of void, acutely understanding that if she falls out of relevancy, she’s done for. She also jokes with Makoto about being a psychic, knowing his unheard thoughts, which plays into the prophet archetype of a Mage, and knowing the unknown.

**Fukawa Touko & Genocider Sho - Page of Heart & Bard of Heart

-actively exploits and is served emotions and self-identity. Touko… has some issues. She is very concerned about herself, who she is, and how she’s perceived, which is the trademark of a heart player. She is actually good at using emotions to get what she wants. She gets people to stay away from her but also be concerned about her at the same time, not to mention she managed to get Byakuya to let her tail him around which I still don’t understand how. She keeps a strong facade up due to her insecurities and necessary caution due to Genocider Sho.

-passively destroys sense of self and emotions. Sho destroys emotions in a literal sense, by killing anyone she “crushes” on, and she destroys Toko’s sense of self through emotions by leaving her to come to at murder scenes, therefore forcing her to stay paranoid and keep a huge secret. Doesn’t really do it intentionally, as Sho tells Makoto that it’s the same thing as a soccer player kicking a ball, it’s just nature.

Hagakure Yasuhiro - Seer of Hope

-passively understands possibilities and beliefs. Even when he’s pessimistic, he’s optimistic by everyone else’s standards. He is always able to see some better possibility… whether it’s true or whether others believe him remains to be seen. He definitely fits the somewhat far-fetched but unshakable beliefs profile that Hope players have. And he’s definitely knowledgeable about his, uh, profession in a way that seers usually are.

Ikusaba Mukuro - Knight of Space

-passively exploits and serves through space. This was a hard one, partly because we don’t see a lot of her, so it’s long; I used a lot of process of elimination and, well, vibes. Space is about physical matter, size and location, creation, and beginnings. At an early age, she ditched her family in Europe in order to join an elite mercenary group in the Middle East. She is extremely proficient in hand-to-hand, melee, and ranged combat, though she admits that she was never good at planning ahead and strategizing. She was also able to accurately portray Junko, the Ultimate Fashionista. Those three things point me towards space, as her past is about location and beginnings, ranged weapons are about distance, planning ahead is about time which is her opposite, and acting as her sister is an act of creation and physicality, not to mention that clothes have a link to the space aspect as well. Most of the classes don’t really fit her, but the little personality she has is devoted to serving her sister, serving her organization before that, and in DR IF, serving Makoto. Knights are also fighters, obviously.

Enoshima Junko - Thief (Lord?) of Rage

-actively steals rage and limitations. Junko is a lot. Just, a lot. I’m actually leaning towards giving her the “Lord” title because honestly, the level of embodiment that she has over the rage aspect is unparalleled. But I just don’t know enough about the master classes for me to feel comfortable enough with that. So I’m going with thief instead. She definitely gets off on everyone else’s despair and sets them up so they have limited possibilities in the killing game. She takes from them and takes from them and leaves them with some hope just to finally steal that too.

#danganronpa #homestuck #classpects #danganstuck #danganronpastuck #drstuck

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mrs-berry · 4 years

Text

Concert

By mrs_berry

Read on AO3!

Part 1 of ML Love Square Fluff Week 2020

@lovesquarefluffweek

Summary: Marinette is given two concert tickets for Jagged Stone’s concert, but who will she end up taking with her?

Word Count: 1598

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jagged Stone was the best. Not only had he commissioned Marinette again, but on top of paying her for her creative services, he gave her two free VIP tickets to his concert!

So, of course, the first thing she did was squeal and freak out about it to Tikki.

The next thing she did was invite Alya to go with her.

The third thing she did was demote Alya from best friend, because Alya had turned down her invitation (how dare she!) due to “prior engagements.”

Which Marinette knew was a load of bologna.

The truth was Alya was being Alya. She was being her devious, cunning, sneaky self and plotting something.

It became even more obvious when literally everyone she asked had given her some bullshit excuse about being unable to make it. Seriously, who would turn down a free VIP Jagged Stone concert ticket?!

No one, that’s who!

After asking everyone she was good friends with and receiving more excuses than the ones she constantly gave out as Ladybug, she was down to her last resort.

Well, maybe not her last resort. Because that would be Lila. With Chloé being a close second last, of course.

Finally, after much persuasion and reassurance (and downright peer pressure), Marinette asked her crush to attend the concert with her.

To absolutely no one’s surprise, he gave a resounding yes and proceeded to smother her with gratitude and excitement. (Though how he happened to have a free schedule and gain permission to attend was a real mystery—one that will never be revealed.)

Suddenly, Marinette couldn’t remember why she had been reluctant to ask him in the first place. He was as big a fan of Jagged Stone as she was, for goodness sake!

“Okay, so my bodyguard will pick you up at 6 o'clock?”

Oh yeah. She was going to spend several hours of her evening with him. Alone. With only her foot to shove in her mouth if she became an awkward stuttering hot mess around him.

Great.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hours later, after school, Marinette tried to count her blessings and good luck as Alya did her hair and makeup while Marinette tried to re-teach herself the French language.

“Sit still, girl, or I might burn you with the curling iron,” Alya scolded, as Marinette was currently fidgeting in attempt to soothe her nerves. Smirking, she added, “We wouldn’t want Adrien to think you got a hickey from someone other than him, hm?”

“Ack-Alya!” Marinette choked in exasperation at her friend’s teasing. It was certainly not helping with her already fried nerves.

Alya proceeded to give her a pep talk— pointing out why Marinette was amazing, reminding her to be her friendly self, and reassuring her that Adrien was as scary as a cute golden retriever puppy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

While Marinette appreciated her best friend’s words, it turned out whatever advice and encouragement she had received had conveniently drained out of her mind. Only panicked and anxious thoughts remained as Adrien greeted her before leading her to the car and opening the door for her.

“T-thanks,” she managed to squeak out as she practically tripped and fell onto the car seat.

Mercifully, Adrien either didn’t notice her disastrous clumsiness or respectfully decided to ignore it in order to spare her feelings or dignity (if she even had any left—at this point it was up for debate).

In the car, they sat in semi-awkward silence for about three seconds before Adrien requested that his bodyguard put the music back on.

To her surprise (though maybe she should not have been surprised, considering their destination), Jagged Stone’s music flowed through the speakers.

Almost inexplicably, Marinette felt her body relax. The tenseness in her shoulder dissipated. A smile spread across her lips. And before she could consciously stop herself, she was humming along to one of her favourite songs.

Adrien took notice of this, of course, and felt greatly relieved. He always worried over Marinette, especially when she became all stiff and weird around him—as if she was afraid of him or perhaps disliked his company. He always bottled up those anxious thoughts and chalked it up to being paranoid, but maybe one day he would broach the subject. Today was not the day, though, as he was determined to keep a happy and fun mood.

With an adoring smile on his lips, he began humming along with her.

Marinette sputtered, looking at him as if she just realized he was there.

Biting her lip, she gave a shy smile, before starting to hum again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The concert was the best; deafening rock music boomed through their chests and rattled their hearts as they stood near the stage. Lights flashed, glow sticks waved, fists pumped, and the audience screamed and danced to powerful guitar chords and lyrics.

Marinette and Adrien were in close proximity to each other, often finding themselves pressed up against one another as bustling bodies moved to the music.

Marinette could feel the heat radiating from Adrien (and other people, but they did not matter) and felt like fainting from happiness and utter bliss.

Adrien experienced similar feelings, though perhaps not from the same reasons as his short friend.

Marinette and Adrien sang to their heart’s content at the top of their lungs as they enjoyed every vibration, every chord, every lyric, and every moment of this concert.

(Marinette also enjoyed every second of contact with Adrien.)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After the concert had ended, the duo made their way over to the VIP section of the concert, where they would be able to meet their idol.

Voices raspy and ears ringing, Marinette and Adrien found themselves gushing excitedly over the best concert of their lives, while they waited in line to meet Jagged.

The moment Jagged Stone spotted Marinette, he excitedly waved his arms at her.

Marinette beamed and greeted him enthusiastically.

“Marinette! It’s mighty rock ‘n’ roll that you could make it out here t'night!” he exclaimed enthusiastically.

Marinette went to give him a handshake, but he opted for a bone-crushing hug instead.

Flushed, but happy, she continued beaming as he released her from his vice grip.

“And who’s this, hmm? Oh, wait, you look familiar,” he observed, scratching his beard. “Is this yer boyfriend? Well, I definitely approve, seems like a nice lad for ya!”

Marinette went from beaming to red lobster in milliseconds.

“Agrestien—Adrigeste—ugh—Adrien Agreste is not—he is my friend!” she vehemently denied, struggling to make sensical words form from her lips. “And fan! A huge fan! Of yours, I mean! Not me. Not my fan.”

Marinette facepalmed at her own inability to be an articulate human being around her friend.

Adrien smiled sheepishly, possibly too star struck to have noticed the spazzy mess that stood beside him.

“Riiiight then,” Jagged drawled in a tone that clearly didn’t believe her denial for a second. “Would you like a hug as well? Or perhaps a handshake? Maybe a signed CD?”

Adrien wordlessly nodded rapidly. It seems Marinette was not the only inarticulate one at the moment.

Jagged beamed and swept the tall blond model into a bone-crushing hug identical to the one he had given Marinette.

Afterwards, Jagged took the CD that had mysteriously appeared in Adrien’s hand and signed it—signing it right next to Marinette’s signature.

He also signed Marinette’s Jagged Stone concert shirt, since she had not brought a CD along with her and said she didn’t need a free CD since she already owned all his albums.

By the end of their meeting, Adrien was pretty sure he would melt into a happy and fulfilled puddle at any moment.

Marinette felt the same way, but for slightly different reasons.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Gorilla drove the two teenagers home.

Both of them switched between speaking animatedly about their night and daydreaming about how surreal the whole event had been.

Once they reached the bakery, Adrien walked Marinette to the door, while his bodyguard waited for him in the car.

“Thank you so much for inviting me tonight,” he spoke quietly with complete sincerity. “It was the most fun I’ve ever had. I don’t know how, but I’ll definitely make it up to you, I promise.”

Marinette’s heart lurched at him feeling like he owed her. He was too sweet and he certainly didn’t owe her a thing.

“Oh, no, you don't—please don’t feel like you owe me anything! The tickets were free and I am so glad you were able to come!” Somehow, her strong feelings on the subject made her more coherent than she had been all night. Perhaps knowing he had so much fun had also dashed away some of her insecurities. “Honestly, I am really glad it was you who came with me and not anyone else. I had a blast. So, really, it should be me thanking you.”

Adrien was touched by her kindness and she could see it in his expression.

Looking into his soft eyes, she mustered what courage she had and tip-toed to give him a peck on the cheek.

He smiled brilliantly in response, a tinge of red seeping into his cheeks, but the darkness of the night and shadows hid it well.

“Goodnight, Marinette,” he said softly.

Turning around, he went back to his car, opened the door and got in. Closing the door, he gave her one last tender look (which she couldn’t see in the darkness) before his car took off into the night.

Marinette was confident no concert would ever top that one.

(Unless a certain blond boy came along with her again.)

#lovesquarefluffweek #lovesquarefluffweek2020 #ml love square fluff week 2020 #ml love square fluff week #adrinette #adrienette #concert #day 1 concert #miraculous ladybug #ml fic #ml fanfic #fluff #humor

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lfthinkerwrites · 5 years

Text

Tales From Gotham Academy: Backstory

Penelope (and the readers) find out about Edward’s past.

The next afternoon, the end of school bell found Harley and Penelope in the latter's office, talking about what had transpired yesterday. "So, Eddie still hasn't told you what's up?

Penelope shook her head. "No. He didn't pick up his phone when I called last night. He hasn't said a word to me all day. He didn't come to the teacher's lounge during lunch break. He wouldn't even come to visit me after his computer lab."

Harley looked at her aghast. "What!? But he always comes to visit you after his computer lab! What's the matter with him?"

Penelope sighed. "I wish I knew." She'd never seen Edward like this. Even when they argued, which, given their temperaments, was unavoidable, he never, ever shut her out like this. For better and for worse, he communicated what was bothering him. This wasn't like him and it worried her as much as it annoyed her. "It's obviously connected to the trip, somehow, but I just can't figure out how."

"Did ya ask Jonny and Jervis?"

"I did," Penelope answered. "But they're as clueless as I am."

Harley tapped her finger against her chin, puzzling this out. "Maybe it's about something that happened before he started working here. Lina's known him longest, maybe she'd know."

"Maybe," Penelope concurred. Come to think of it, other than anything relating to college or Ellen, Edward very rarely spoke about his life before he started working at Gotham Academy. She knew enough to know that he'd had a difficult childhood, so she'd never pried further, but that left a lot of blank spots in his biography. She huffed. Just her luck she'd had to fall in love with a mystery man. She was about to get out of her chair and follow Harley's suggestion about finding Selina when there was a knock at her door. "Yes?"

The door cracked open and Jervis walked in with a nervous expression on his face. "Um, White Queen? Dormouse has locked himself in the Computer Lab and won't come out."

Penelope exchanged a long-suffering look with Harley and sighed. "I'll be right there." She got up from her chair and, along with Harley, followed Jervis down the hallway that led to the Computer Lab. Just what was Edward up to now?

When the trio arrived, a small crowd had gathered outside the lab, made up mostly of students. Thankfully, as far as Penelope could tell, Ellen wasn't there. She'd be at Pam's club right about now with Duela Dent. Jonathan was there, however, banging his fist against the closed door. "Edward!" he shouted. "Open up!"

"Go away!" Penelope heard Edward's voice from inside the lab. "Can't a man sulk in peace!?"

"Not when students need to use the damn lab you can't!" Jonathan shouted back, his patience clearly already at an end. "Stop acting like a spoiled child and open the door before I get Miguel to break it down!"

"Do your worst!" Edward challenged.

Jonathan's face darkened. Time for Penelope to step in. She gently pushed her way through the growing throng of students to Jonathan's side by the door. As he was about to bang his fist against the door again, Penelope cleared her throat. Jonathan paused, looked at her, and acknowledged her with a nod. "Afternoon, child."

"May I?" Penelope asked. Jonathan stepped to the side to allow her access to the door. Penelope gave the door a brisk knock.

"Fuck off, Jon!" Edward shouted.

Penelope bit back the choice words she wanted to say in response, instead keeping her tone measured. "Edward? It's me."

There was a long pause before Edward spoke sheepishly. "Oh. Hello."

Well, at least he hadn't snapped at her. Penelope bit her lip as she thought of how to approach her boyfriend. Well, if he wouldn't come out..."Edward? May I come in?"

There was another pause, then she heard footsteps approach the door. Another second, and she heard the telltale sound of the door being unlocked, and Edward's footsteps retreating back into the room. Jonathan gave Penelope another nod, and she entered the lab, shutting the door behind her.

The lights were still on in the lab, thankfully. Edward sat at his desk, his arms crossed across his chest and a sullen look on his face. "Eddie?" Penelope asked, approaching him. "What on Earth is going on? Are you alright?"

"I'm not going on this trip," he said vehemently. "Gordon can't make me."

Penelope considered her next words carefully. "I take it there's more to this than just how awful these field trips are. It's something about the park specifically, isn't it? Do you have some kind of history with it?"

Edward let out a deep sigh, then chuckled a bit. "Can't keep anything from you, can I Darling?" He sighed again. "It's not the park itself. It's the company that owns it. Competitron. I used to work for them as a video game developer."

Penelope came closer to him until she was standing right next to him. "Go on."

"I went to work for them right out of college," he said. "I signed a work for hire contract for them to create games. Before you say anything, I realize now, of course, that was a poor choice to make, but I was a 22 year old with a student loan debt and a baby girl to support. I wasn't in a position to be too discriminating."

"I wasn't going to say anything," Penelope said, raising her hand. "I take it you hated working there."

Edward let out a sharp bark of laughter. "Hardly! I loved it! I love creating puzzles and games. I've always loved it. Sure, the hours were horrible, but that was a small price to pay for being able to do what I loved. I was the one who created Riddle of the Minotaur you know. That game helped put Competitron on the map." As he spoke, he began to smile. Then his smile fell.

"What happened?" Penelope asked.

"Daniel Mockridge happened," he seethed.

"Who is Daniel Mockridge?"

"The CEO of Competitron," Edward explained. "After Riddle of the Minotaur broke sales records, he gave himself a raise, so I thought I deserved a cut of the royalties as well. He thought otherwise. He fired me."

This was the first she'd heard of Daniel Mockridge, but she already disliked the man. "Why didn't you sue?"

"Oh, I wanted to," Edward said. "I began to look into getting a lawyer, but," Edward's shoulders sagged. "Then Diane died. Ellen needed me to be a hundred percent present, physically, mentally, and emotionally. I let it go and tried to get work elsewhere, but Mockridge had badmouthed me to other gaming companies. Finally, the only job I could get was teaching here, and that was thanks to Selina. And here we are."

Penelope reached over to gently grasp Edward's hand. "I'm sorry, Eddie."

Edward smiled ruefully, then squeezed her hand back. "Well, this may not be the job I wanted, but I don't regret being able to be close to Ellen. Or meeting Jon and Jervis." He brought her hand up to kiss her knuckles. "Or you for that matter." Penelope flushed a bit at the display of affection, then her heart sank as Edward let go of her hand and scowled again. "I'm still not going on this trip though."

"Edward," Penelope said, not unkindly. "I know you have a bad history with Competitron, but you shouldn't let it control you."

"Mockridge set this whole thing up," Edward continued as if he hadn't heard her. "It would be just like him, too. He'll probably be there at the damn park, ready to humiliate me all over again."

"Edward," Penelope said seriously. "Don't you think you're being just a bit paranoid?"

"No, I'm not!" Edward retorted. "And I'm not going on this trip. I'll sit in this lab in protest. Gordon will have to drag me onto those buses kicking and screaming next Friday!"

Penelope rolled her eyes. Time to play hardball. "There's no reason to do that, Edward," she said, moving behind him. Edward watched her with suspicion but said nothing. "I'm sure if you asked very nicely, Harley would be more than willing to trade with you." Edward opened his mouth as if to speak, but she placed her hands on his shoulders and gently began to rub like she knew he liked. He hummed happily and leaned back, closing his eyes. "We could stay on campus together," she said in a low tone, moving her hands up to run her fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp. He was limp in her touch, like a kitten, and she knew she had him right where she wanted him. Time to move in for the kill. "Of course, that would mean that you'd be letting Ellen go on a notoriously chaotic school trip completely without parental supervision."

As expected, Edward's eyes opened in a flash. He looked stricken for a moment, then he peered up at her and his eyes narrowed. "I know what you're doing," he said. "You're attempting to use my love for my daughter against me."

Penelope smirked down at him. "Is it working?" She already knew the answer and from the look on his face, he did too. The one thing she could always count on was that push come to shove, Edward would always, always put Ellen first.

Edward glared half-heartedly at her. "You've been spending far too much time in Selina's company, Darling. This is the most blatantly manipulative thing I've ever seen you do. Have you no shame?"

Penelope shrugged. "Clearly not. I work at this school, don't I?"

Edward continued to scowl, then he sat back up. "I could just not let Ellen go," he said. "Check and mate."

"That wouldn't be fair to her. And she'd be furious with you for a long time. It's one thing to not let her go if you have a genuine concern for her safety. It's something else entirely to prevent her from going on a trip just so you can avoid going on it. You're a better man and father than that."

Edward's leaned back and his face softened a bit as he looked up at her. "You really believe that, don't you?"

Penelope allowed her face to soften. "I wouldn't be with you if I didn't."

Edward smiled at her then, and it was plain to see how much he completely adored her. He took a deep breath, then got up out of his chair. "Very well," he said regally. "For you and Ellen, I will go on this trip." He grinned wolfishly at her. "I do expect you to make it up to me, however."

"I'm sure you do," Penelope said dryly. "You can come up with a list later. Let's get out of here before Jonathan makes good on his threat and gets Miguel to break down the door."

#high school teacher au #shamelessly ripped off from BTAS

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dezembergirl · 7 years

Text

Norwegian Gossip Girl

Part four of my series (part one, part two and part three) as alway inspired by @nonibanoni

Fandom: Skam

Pairing: Noorhelm

Characters: Noora, Eva and William

Type: one-shot/series

Summary: Where Eva finds Noora’s life more interesting than Gossip girl; or Noora and Eva enjoy a lazy Saturday afternoon.

originally posted to ao3

Thank you for all the incredibly sweet comments, I can’t explain how much they mean to me! <3

This chapter is a bit different in the way it’s set up but the next one will be more similar to the first three again. Hope you like it! :)

Smudged mascara and disheveled hair greeted Noora when she slid through the bedroom window and slumped down next to Eva.

«Rough night?» Noora nudged her friend.

«Just very short.» Eva yawned and pulled her messy hair into an even messier ponytail. «You’re way to happy for 15:00 on a Saturday?»

«Not touching alcohol and going to sleep at a reasonable hour does that for you.» Noora slipped out of her jacked and shoes to curl up next to Eva on the sofa.

«Yeah, but where’s the fun in that?» she would never be convinced, abstinence was a good choice.

Noora’s eyebrows arch upwards. «Plenty of other ways to have fun.»

That earned her an eye roll and shrugged shoulders. Eva reached for her laptop to put on a Netflix show for background ambience.

«Speaking of fun, where did you end up yesterday? We missed you at party, Vilde got all upset over it.» Eva focused her slightly unsteady but nevertheless vigilant eyes on her.

She didn’t know Noora had done anything other than go straight home last night; she couldn’t, could she? That was exactly why Noora hated lying, it made her paranoid. There was no reason to suspect Eva knowing anything but her going on one date with William three weeks ago. Nothing to worry about and strictly speaking, it wasn’t exactly lying just conveniently leaving out certain details.

«Nothing, I went home early.» Conveniently leaving out certain details still felt wrong.

«Okay» Eva popped a crisp in her mouth.

«The music was a touch much for me.» Noora really did have a dislike for eardrum bursting level of russ music.

Eva trailed off into her phone and Noora exhaled, relaxing back against the couch. «You seemed pretty out of it before I left.»

«Mhm» another crisp.

«Is everything okay, with Jonas and you know …»

«It’s fine, really.» Eva had never been the best at hiding her feelings but Noora didn’t want to dig any deeper, sprinkling salt on an obviously sore subject.

«You slept in your own bed though, right?» imagining her properly drunk friend passing out in some random boy’s bed made her cringe.

«Chris brought me home, don’t worry.»

«Chris has a car?» Noora furrowed her brows.

«Oh no, Penetrator Chris.» Noora definitely caught her friend blush this time. «He called a cab. Apparently William took off on his own so I thought I’d keep him company.» Eva shrugged as if none of it was a big deal.

«Penetrator Chris?» Noora’s eyebrows almost disappeared in her hairline, hopefully masking her own flushed cheeks at the mention of William’s name.

«He’s sweet.» Eva sighed.  «He’s a fuckboy.»

«I’m not looking for a relationship. Also you went on a date with William, you have no right to judge.» Eva threw her an amused smirk and Noora almost gasped at her retort. «I’m well aware that he’ll have a new girl next week, but» she shrugged «he’s fun.»

Gossip girl wasn’t Noora’s preferred choice of Netflix background drama but she had to admit it was fun to watch every once in a while (at least as long as one ignored all its moral shortcomings), especially when the drama in her own life almost rivaled that of an American teen show.

«How is that going actually, is William still texting you? Did you talk to him since the date?»

That definitely took Noora by surprise. Eva was apparently more sober than she had previously given her credit for. Squinting her eyes, she tried to judge just how much Eva had noticed and more importantly was still remembering from last night; her face-off with William hadn’t exactly been private, at least the first part hadn’t.

«No» Noora said a beat too slow and Eva sized up her answer for a second before turning her attention back to Blair hurling insults across her laptop screen.

They both fell silent, Eva lost in Gossip Girl and Noora in her own memories.

If it hadn’t been obvious last night, it was now. Her need to keep things secret was bound to clash with the inexplicable desire to indulge deeper into whatever it was that tied her heart to William. Destiny was to be damned.

«The party was epic though. You can say whatever you want but the Penetrators know how to throw a mean party.» Eva sighed and Noora saw her scrolling though last night’s Instagram feed.

«Mhm» she didn’t care for the parties and no matter how redeemable Eva made them sound, Noora’s stance on the whole topic had been set from the beginning. They were a bunch of assholes, vying for however many girls they could add to their ‘fucked-lists’, textbook fuckboys. No exceptions were made (not one, maybe one).

She would have explained all that to Eva, if it hadn’t been for the buzzing phone claiming her attention.

Before Eva had a chance to see the name flashing across the screen, Noora had snatched her phone and felt instantly headier when she unlocked four new Messages from William.

William: hey

William: miss you

William: sorry, I don’t wanna bother you

William: I just really miss you

She felt the annoyingly obvious flutter in her stomach set into motion and bit her lip to keep the grin from spreading.

Noora had promised herself, the moment William’s car door had flung closed behind her a few hours earlier, to fight the impulse to text him today, or tomorrow. Noora had also gotten into an annoying habit of ignoring her own better judgement and all impulse control when it came to William.

Noora: it’s been what, five hours?

«Who’s texting you?» Eva dragged her eyes away from the screen, just long enough to study Noora.

«Just Eskild, he is basically illiterate when it comes to cleaning.»

«You never look this happy talking to Eskild.» Eva arched her eyebrows and her back. «Or about cleaning.»

Another text delayed Noora’s reply.

William: What can I say, the things you do to me Noora Amalie Sætre.

«He can be entertaining.» she managed to spit out, but the spreading smirk on Eva’s lips caught her lies.

«It’s him, isn’t it?» Eva almost yelped, forgetting all about the heated argument Blair and Chuck were carrying out on screen. «My god Noora, you’re still texting with him. I don’t know whether to be disappointed or amazed.»

The sheer number of exited giggles that tumbled from her friends lips, made Noora freeze for a second.

William: How about Monday?

His texts and Eva’s excitement, made it more than challenging to keep Eva from discovering more than she already had. No one could know that she had spent the night in William’s bed, and not for the first time.

«Just don’t tell Vilde, okay. It would break her heart.» typing an answer was the perfect excuse to avoid Eva’s questioning looks.

Noora: We have school on Monday

«I wont.» Eva promised. «If you tell me what he’s texting you about.»

Noora rolled her eyes; another text.

William: after school then

«Nothing new really. He wants to go on another date and keeps pressuring me and yeah … really nothing new.»

«But you’d never go on another date, because you don’t like him? Like at all, right?»

Noora sensed that they had gone over this once before, and Eva seemed just as skeptical to her vehemently shaken head as she had the last time.

William: I’ll take you to my favorite café

William: There’s this amazing chocolate place up in Grünerløkka, you’ll love it

Noora: I’m not going on a date with you

«He’s an asshole that uses girls for the gratification he never got as a child and thinks about no one but himself.» she had repeated it so many times, by now it sounded like an automatic recording of her three week younger self; the self that hadn’t kissed William or tasted his hot cocoa. «He’s very persistent though, I’ll give him that.»

His preposition did sounded more tempting than it should. But going on a date, in public, someone was bound to see them. In the privacy of his apartment she had been able to relax and forget about all the constant reminders why giving into his touches and kisses was a destructive choice. In a café she couldn’t simply push her worries aside and ignore her lies being found out at any moment.

«Right» Eva repeated and the suspecting smile on her lips made Noora want to smother her with one of the pillows.

William: no date, just cocoa

William: It’s almost as good as mine

Noora could see his smirk through the screen.

“You really can’t tell Vilde about this.» Eva shook her head, still too wound up in her friend’s choice of texting partner to focus on the Upper East Side drama spilling on the screen. «You are really full of surprises, Noora.»

That Noora couldn’t object to. Though surprise might not be the right word, at least not when other people discovered what she was hiding.

William: and you can pay for your own drink, if that makes you happier

Needless to say, Noora agreed to hot chocolate on Monday.

It was delicious, almost as good as William’s.

If you ever have any requests or suggestions, my ask/inbox is always open :)

#noorhelm #Skam #noora x william #william x noora #noora sætre #william magnusson #noorhelm fic #skam fic #hope you like it :)

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blustersquall · 7 years

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kagetsukai replied to your post: Also don't forget that Cullen and Alistair share...

I love how vehement you are about your opinion on Cullistair :D I mean, you make your points really well, I’m just amazed how passionate you are about the topic

It probably says a lot about how I over think things, to be honest.

But, the way I see it, if other people are allowed to write posts supporting their random (usually slash) ships, then I’m allowed to write posts explaining why they make no fucking sense.

I am more than a hundred percent sure the only reason Cullistair became a known thing is because: - they the two whitest, straights guys in the franchise, and they’re both attractive, so naturally they should get shipped together. No matter how fucking illogical it is. (Mods do not count towards changing a character’s sexual identity. Nor do pre-recorded lines for a romance which was axed from the game. Not in game = not canon).

- as soon as a few people started talking about the pairing, other more popular writers and artists clutched onto it with both hands and chose to wear it as a badge of honour. These were all people who rubbed elbows with similar people - tumblr is very like high school. Cliques galore.

- once those people started showing support for it, all their fans were suddenly clamouring about how it ‘all suddenly made sense’ and ‘I’VE ALWAYS SHIPPED THEM SECRETLY’.

And like, don’t get me wrong. I’m not shitting on people who ship it. I’m not shitting on a person’s likes or dislikes, or their choices, or their fetishes, their kinks, or whatever. If you ship it, go for it. If you don’t, grand. I often feel the Dragon Age (and Bioware) fandom as a whole generally comes down like a tonne of fucking bricks on anyone who doesn’t agree with EVERYONE ELSE about something.

It makes fandom, something that is meant to be enjoyable, something that is not. It’s like walking on eggshells. I can’t count the amount of posts I’ve written, saved to my drafts and then deleted, because I’ve been worried someone will think it’s directed at them. Or it’s an unpopular opinion, and it goes against the status quo. For a while, there was a whole lot of anxiety for me being in the Dragon Age fandom because I dared to write Fenris as a cismale character, with a female Hawke. I didn’t buy into the whole “FENRIS IS TRANS AND GAY” headcanon. I still don’t. And I got a fucktonne of hate for it. Because people are so fucking precious about their headcanons.

I don’t know why, but recently I’ve just felt like I should stop censoring myself for the sake of other people. I go out of my way to blacklist the things I don’t like so they don’t appear on my dash, so I don’t see them. But they still crop up, because people don’t tag their shit. I’ve muted people, and blocked people, and unfollowed people because it really gets on my nerves.

Other people don’t care, so why should I? If I have an opinion, even an unpopular one, I’m still entitled to it. And I’m still entitled to speak it.

I’m not spreading heat speech. I’m not anti-gay, or anti-trans. I don’t hate anyone. I don’t attack any one. I don’t send anon hate. I don’t write hate fics. I just want to stop being so fucking paranoid about what everyone else things and the repercussions having an opposing opinion will have.

And yes, this is an opposing opinion to like, the majority of popular (or they were popular? idk anymore, I don’t keep track) writers and artists in the Dragon Age fandom. And yes, this may earn me some heat from them, their followers, whatever, if it gets back to them. But whatever. I’ll deal with it. I feel happier having gotten that initial Alistair and Cullen aren’t friends post off my chest because it’s been sitting in my drafts for... months, I think. And I was always too afraid to post it.

When I woke up to that ask this morning, I just decided to say fuck it, and post it. Because who cares what someone else thinks. If they agree with your ship, or your headcanon or not. At the end of the day, if you’re adjusting the way you play, or view a game for the benefit of others, then you’re not getting the full enjoyment out of the game. Same with fandom. If you’re proclaiming to love a ship because a popular member of the fandom suddenly proclaims to love it, then you’re not really enjoying fandom, because you’re pretending to like something you don’t. You might learn to like it. You might tolerate it, but it’s still fake, and the reason you got into fandom was to have fun.

What fun about pretending to like something to be liked or noticed?

Sorry, this turned in to a ... I have no idea what. It also probably doesn’t make much sense, as it’s 5am and I am really tired. So I’m going to go to bed now.

#cullen rutherford #cullen #alistair theirin #alistair #bluster speaks #alistair and cullen friendship discourse #kagetsukai

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