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#i only remember the ostracization bits

vadlings · 4 months

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Represention of Autistic Frustration in Laios Dungeon Meshi

Like many other autistic people, I related strongly to Laios Touden while reading Dungeon Meshi. This post isn't going to spend time disputing whether he displays autistic traits or not—while I could do that, I want to focus on why specifically his portrayal struck a chord with me in a way the writing of most other autistic-coded characters has not.

Disclaimer: as the above suggests, this post is strongly informed by my own experiences as an autistic person, as well as the experiences of my neurodivergent friends with whom I have spoken about this subject. I want to clarify that in no way am I asserting my personal experience to be some Universal Autistic Experience. This post is about why Laios' character feels distinct and significant to me in regard to autistic representation, and while I'm at it, I do feel that I have interesting things to say about autistic representation in media generally. This also got a bit long, so I'm sticking it under a read more. Spoilers for up to the end of chapter 88 below.

The thing that stands out most to me in regard to Laios' characterisation is the open anger he displays when someone points out his inability to read other people. This comes up prominently in his interactions with "Shuro" (Toshiro Nakamoto):

The frustration pictured above (Laios continuing to physically tussle with Toshiro, using crude language toward him) becomes even more notable when you remember that this is Laios, who, outside of these interactions, is not easily fazed and often exists as a lighthearted contrast to the rest of the cast. Then we get to Laios' nightmare.

In Falin's words: "Nightmares love emotional wounds. Wounds you hold in your heart. Things that give you stress, or things that were traumatic for you. They aggravate memories like that and cause the dreamer to have terrible dreams." (chapter 42, page 10.) (damn. i'm properly citing for this post and everything.)

Thus, Laios' nightmare establishes an important fact: even if he is unable to recognise social blunders while he's making them, he's at least subconsciously aware that other people operate on a different wavelength to him, and that he's an outsider in many of his social circles (both past and present). His dream-father's disparaging words stress the impact this has had upon his ability to live up to the expectations set out for him, and we also get a panel of kids who smirk at him (presumably former bullies to some degree). Toshiro's appearance only hammers home how much Laios is still both humiliated and angered by his misunderstanding of their relationship.

I've thought a lot about anger as concomitant to the autistic experience. When autistic representation portrays ostracization, it's generally from an angle of the autistic character being upset at how conforming to neurotypical norms doesn't come easily to them; as a result, they express a desire to 'get better' at meeting neurotypical standards, a desire to become more 'normal' (whether the writing implies this is a good thing or not). In contrast, not once does Laios go, "I need to perform better in my social interactions, and try to care less about monsters, because that's what other people find weird." His frustration is directed outward rather than inward, and as a result, it's the people around him who are framed as nonsensical.

The Winged Lion starts delineating Laios' anger, and Laios' reaction is to think to himself, "It can sense all my thoughts, huh?" (chapter 88, page 16.) This is the scene that really resonated with me. I'm not saying I have never felt the desire to conform to neurotypical norms that is borne from insecurity, but primarily, I know that I don't want to work toward becoming 'normal'—I don't want to change myself for people who follow rules I find nonsensical. It's the difference between, "Oh god, why can't I get it," and, "WHY CAN'T YOU GET IT?" (phrasing here courtesy of my friend Miles @dogwoodbite). And for me personally, Dungeon Meshi is the first time I've seen this frustration and the resultant voluntary isolation from other people portrayed in media so candidly. Laios' anger is not downplayed or written to be easily palatable, either.

The culmination of Laios' frustrations in this scene wherein we learn that Laios has fantasised about "a pack of monsters attacking a village" drives home just how alienated he really feels. I need not go into his wish to become a monster himself, redolent of how many autistic people identify/have identified with non-humans to some degree as a result of a percieved disconnect from society (when I was younger, I wanted to be a robot. I still kind of do.)

Obviously, wishing death upon other people is a weighty thing, but the unfiltered nature of this page is what deeply resonated with me. The Winged Lion is laying Laios' deepest and most transgressive desires bare, and they are desires that are a product of lifelong ostracization by others (whether intentional or unintentional). This is the brand of anger I'm familiar with, and that my neurodivergent friends express being familiar with, but that I haven't seen portrayed in writing so explicitly before—in fact, it surprised me because most well-meaning autistic representation I've experienced veers toward infantilisation in trying make the autistic character's struggles easy for neurotypicals to sympathise with.

Let's also not neglect the symbolism inherent to Laios' daydream. "A pack of monsters attacking a village". Functionally, monsters are Laios' special interest—he percieves everything first and foremost through his passion for monsters. His daydream of monsters attacking—killing—humans, is fundamentally a daydream of the world he understands (monsters) overthrowing the world that is so illogical to him, that has repeatedly shunned him (other people). I joked to my friends that it's an autistic power fantasy, and it actually sort of is. And in it, his identity is aligned with that of the monsters, while his anger manifests in a palpable dissociation from the rest of humanity. This is one manga page. It's brief. It's also very, very raw to me. I think about it often.

To conclude, I love Laios Dungeon Meshi. This portrayal of open frustration in an autistic character meant a lot to me, and I hope I've sufficiently outlined why. Also, feel free to recommend media with autistic representation in the notes if you've read this far—I would really like to see if there is more of this nature. Thank you for reading. I'm very tired and should probably sleep now.

#dungeon meshi #dunmeshi #laios touden #shuro #toshiro nakamoto #the winged lion #autistic #autism #clay writes #i GUESS #this was so spur of the moment. im so busy right now i dont have time to be analysing laios touden #i wuont angry autistic rep..

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riot-ghost · 6 months

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Commissioner Gordon was ostracized within the Gotham Police department. He knew this was because of his ties to the Bat, his late hours, constant overtime. He knew that even the good officers, while he couldn't tell too much who was who, didn't mean to ostracize him. It happened on accident, he's sure. He picked up some clues from the world's greatest detective. Rumors went around, running rampant about him. He just couldn't care so much about them.

Everyone knew that Commissioner Gordon always took his late dinner at 9:37 at night. Everyone cleared from the break room. Gordon opened the door, taking a heavy breath. He was still expecting the empty room. It felt empty, in a way Gordon had picked up from The Bat. He pulled his burrito out of the fridge, opening the styrofoam container and eating a bite. "You're not going to heat it up?" Gordon barely manages to catch his burrito, his whole soul leaving his body.

"Jesus Christ, kid, you scared me." Gordon lets out a heavy breath, seeing the new detective sitting at a table in the corner. He's eating... Something indescribable. He looks tired, his long black hair bulled back into a high ponytail. His face seems disproportionate, large prominent features. A crooked nose, a wide, thin mouth, large eyes accompanied by large bags. His skin was pale, dusted with faded freckles and litchenburg scarring. The young man- still a boy, practically, shrugged at Gordon's words, eating another bite of the odd food. "No one warned you I'd be in here?" Gordon decided to sit with him.

"No, they warned me. But the past couple of days they've been... Avoiding me." Dr. Fenton, Gordon remembers his file passing over his desk. He could never be a cop- he was a detective-by-hire because of some medical condition. Gordon feels a pang at the emotionless words.

"Ah, they avoid me too." Gordon takes another bite of his cold burrito. "So, how have you been enjoying working here?"

"Well, it's been alright, I guess." Fenton took a drink from his thermos- which has a straw in it. It goes unsaid that this was the only job Fenton could really get. Close to the force, anyways. His medical condition refrained him from being a proper officer, so he wasn't officially a Gotham PD detective. He was an out-contract detective, receiving the same work, pay, and hours as the regular detectives.

"Getting around the town well enough?"

"Well enough, I suppose. Almost got robbed." Fenton held three doctorates- criminology, psychology, and natural sciences. All at the young age of 22.

"Almost?" Gordon snorts a bit at that. "Scared them off with your badge?"

"I don't have a badge. And I don't have a gun, if that's what you're thinking. I guess they just thought I was too pathetic to have much cash." Danny shrugged.

"Oh come on, you're not pathetic." Gordon is a bit taken aback that the boy doesn't carry any weapons. He makes a mental note to get him a badge.

"I looked pathetic enough not to rob."

Gordon feels like he missed something there, because Gotham robbers would rob a kindergartner if they were unattended. Regardless, he and Fenton sat in silence for a good couple of minutes. "What are you eating?" Fenton asks eventually.

"A burrito from the Mexican stand on Westwood."

"Why are you eating it cold?"

"Because if I reheat it, then the sauce becomes a solid liquid and everything gets soggy. What are you eating?"

"It was supposed to be stir fry?" Danny stared down at the leftovers container. "I'm not good at cooking. No videos ever make sense, so they don't turn out right."

"Your parents didn't teach you?" Gordon asks.

"No, they weren't the best chefs. They did pass on the family fudge recipe though. I can make some killer fudge." He laughs a little bit at that.

"I'll bring you lunch in from now on." Gordon says. "Until we can get your cooking sorted out, anyhow. Normally my daughter and I spend Tuesday nights fixing dinner together, so you'll get the best meals Wednesday."

"You don't have to do that." Danny seems a little caught off guard by the kindness.

"I can't have one of my youngest detectives going hungry!" Gordon smiles. "Besides, you're the first person in the precinct to eat dinner with me in nearly twenty years. You keep eating with me, it'll be no problem. I enjoy the company." Danny smiles at him and Gordon is reminded of someone, but he can't remember who.

Over the next couple of weeks, Gordon and Danny get well acquainted in their overlapping shifts. Danny works the nights and sometimes early mornings, similar to what Gordon does. Gordon finds himself feeling fatherly to the young man, who's working and picking up significant overtime to pay off his student loans. He learns that Danny moved here from Illinois- it was the only PD he could work at. He had no formal fighting training, but apparently his mom had taught him some moves. They had yet to overlap in the field, and it was easy for Gordon to forget that the boy was really a detective.

"Danny?" Jim paused, having finally made his way to the crime scene. Danny was crouched over a dead body, using his gloved hands to inspect the wound- the word Joker carved using some sort of knife.

"Gordon?" Despite all insistence, the boy still used his last name.

Jim has to stop himself from asking him why he's here. Danny's eyes shift to a spot behind him and James sighs. "What happened?" Batman's voice startled the last officer in the room, who quickly stuttered an excuse and left.

"The Joker broke in, tortured her, and left." Jim says. "We just have to figure out why."

"No, we don't." Danny looked back at the body, his eyes unfocused. "It was political. Do you see the swelling here on the neck? No lacerations, and no bruising. Allergy, I suppose, or a poison that reacts similarly. No clawing at the neck or face, but heavy rope burns on the wrists and ankles. The cuts were sloppy, and from the bleeding, it was done after she had died. Maybe five, ten minutes after? The window wasn't fully closed when it was broken into, do you see how the glass fractured there at the top?"

Jim blinked, and Danny continued. "It doesn't fit the motive of a mad-man like the Joker to do this. Who you're looking for is a woman, younger than the victim, maybe around twenty or thirty?" His eyes unfocused again. "Hmmm." He snaps back, looking around. He stands, his hands shaking a little. He looks around, eyes landing on the shelf. He scans it, using gentle hands to lift the potted plant. He pulls out a camera, unplugging it. "A Direct Link- model E47C." He sets the camera in an evidence bag.

Batman gives a grunt- and if Jim isn't mistaken it was one of approval? Danny held the camera out to Jim. "That was some fine detective work today, kid." Jim sets his hand on Danny's shoulder. Danny glances off to the side nervously. He locks eyes with Batman. "Danny, this is Batman. Batman, this is Dr. Daniel Fenton, the newest detective on the force."

Batman holds a hand out. "I look forward to working with you." Danny pulls off one of the disposable gloves, reaching out to shake his hand. "You're shaking a little, are you alright?"

"Medical condition." Danny answers. "You're taller than I expected."

"It's the ears." Jim represses a smile. "You go ahead and get your deductions filed. I brought pasta." Jim watches Danny leave. He turns to Batman, who's staring him down with that signature I-know-everything™ face. "What?"

"When are you going to let him know that you're mentoring him?" He says it like a sentence, and was that amusement in his tone?

"I'm not." Jim turns to the window.

"You brought him pasta."

"He never learned to cook."

"So you're teaching him." There was definitely amusement in his tone now.

Jim huffed. "We're getting old." He finally sighs. "We both have full grown kids. Crime and corruption are still thick in this city." Batman is standing next to him with a swoosh in his cape. "Retirement... I could see myself with it. Sipping cocktails on the beach. A beach with sunshine and no broken down carnivals."

Batman is silent for a moment, as if considering this. "So you see Fenton taking your place?"

"Like you see your Robin." Jim admits.

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sintiva · 4 months

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ARMINEEEE pt.2

pt.1 of church boy! armin

his dick practically leaked between the soft pillows of your thighs. the fluffy, burgundy comforter disappeared under the tight clasp of his fingers. it felt like you’ve been milking him for hours ‘n hours but it’s only been ten minutes and he’s came…. one, tw-, three times! “y/nnn, i’m gunnu cum, ughh godddu… again —“ the poor things overstimulated himself to the point where he can’t stop, he doesn’t want to. and you’re not doing much, but the casual stroking and warmth of your body has him hooked in between your thighs. it’s comforting, exponentially better than anything he’s experienced.

when you told him he could touch you however he liked: the first thing he reached for were your cocoa scented thighs and how they rose ‘n fell with each curious imprint he placed upon them. they fluffed and molded under his hands like a pillow. hands down the softest things he’d ever felt. he groped you so eagerly, jaw wide and eyes quivering in awe of how you felt. “their not going anywhere, i promise.” intentions for him to relax only continued his exploration like he was starved. “so you really are a goody two shoes? i figured.”

“no-no, i-i’ve done this kinda thing b-before.” he blushes; bound by his own lies you giggle and he feels his face grow hotter, embarrasment like this hasn’t coursed through his bones since the day his parents took his door “you’re lying to me? that’s no good armin, remember?” your fingers caress his face; he’s hot to the touch. “i-i have!” he’s beyond flustered at this point. he grabs onto your wrist and flashes those pretty, pleading, wet eyes, begging for you to stop teasing him so much. with each passing second they grew wetter just like his… yeah. “you just wasting your time at church huh?”

“so as i was saying…you haven’t there’s no need to lie to me, besides—” you straddle his lap, and he sinks further into the bed, his eyes widen in shock. “you’re getting this excited, wanna put it in me that bad? you wanna fill me up this bad thinkin’ about it?” armin swallows back a moan and bites down hard on his lips; flush from sheer force. you feel his thighs tremble and his grip on your skirt tighten, “why are you getting all wet, min?” your brown eyes flutter one too many times, and his heart sinks into his chest. all the breath in his lungs fans out between his lips. is he being ostracized he can’t tell, but when you glance down at him with that look… as you’re dragging your hips harder along the prominent tent in his pants, you’re making him moan so much louder, “didn’t mean to, i didn’t.” he whines and bucks up into you. this long into the night and he’s writhing,, sniffling uncontrollably and babbling on about how good you’re making him feel. “but i didn’t say you could cum, you have to control yourself armin.”

ouch:( it felt like you were upset with him-well, that came a little too late… and he came bit too early. those super ugly khakis that he wore every wednesday for bible study grew warm and wet right under where you sat. soothing, unpleasant, but more of the former, considering its spread. hot, scorching your skin, blue like the hottest flame—spreading in your stomach. you can’t blame him, you’ve been searching for something like this for a while. “didn’t your mama tell you good boys don’t make messes?” bite. this far into the night your skirts bunched up around your waist, and armin’s losing his mind. he’s tried so hard to apologize for enjoying all this — you letting him do everything he pleases. the same excuse tumbles between his lips, in that sime high pitched whiny voice while a deeper flare of red painted his skin. curiosity settles in your stomach, to think he’s acting like this — and it’s not even sex.

“i’ve….oh’y god - never felt anything like…this — like you—” you can hear the nervousness in his voice, see it in his face. avoiding, your gaze, his eyes shift back and fourth, uncertain of where he can look that won’t expose his innocence. that won’t expose how abundant his joy is. the delicacy in his voice, the slight tremble and strain in it. can’t you tell he’s working so hard to keep it in? but when you grind down so hard on his hips. bend forward to bite down on his lips, and lick them to lighten the sting, he’s cracking bit by bit. he can physically feel every part of his body throbbing and how his lust for you overflows. while your thighs envelop his length, working so hard to squeeze out every drip of cum. his chest falls and that high piles up on him, higher and higher, till it comes crashing down and he’s pumping out another sticky load.

“what are you blaming me for, you’re the one whose fuckin my thighs outta control like a pup.” his moves are sloppy, out of time, uncontrollable. “‘s too much.” bubbles out. his eyes roll to the back of his head, his fingers clamp down onto your thighs. “you don’t wanna keep using me ‘til you’re satisfied?” the hint of sadness embedded into your question deepens his feralness. it hurts so much to keep going; to keep getting consumed by your offers of induction. the ‘keep goings’ and ‘don’t stop, i want you to make yourself feel so good baby’.

“you’ve been hidin’ this big ole thing from me ‘cause of your dumb parents. you’re so mean armin.” words mean everything to this boy. there’s power in every syllable you cast from your mouth. they tug on his resolve, gratifying every action he’s taking. cursing his subordination, his inability to have something like this all the time. his parents fought so hard to “protect” him from all this corruption because, “that girl will land you in trouble, can’t you see we’re trying to do what’s best for you? as your parents? it’s like you don’t care about how you’ll end up, how that reflects on us…”

your words sound better, they don’t sound like you’re degrading him to make yourself feel better. affirmations encouraging all those uncertainties his parents made sure he’d be too inept to act upon. outlining all of his priorities: all the things he could and couldn’t do. truthfully he was tired of it, so letting you have your way with him; in his parents word “corrupting” him felt liberating. this newfound freedom, that his parents warned would leave a stain, felt otherworldly.

“minnn, i want you to put it inside me.” you lift up your legs by the underside of your knees. taken aback, he groans as you fall back onto the bed, thighs spread; your cream white panties were eaten up up by your pussy lips. you pull them to the side, innocently inviting him in. smearing all your mess over your pussy lips then spreading them to reveal your puffy clit. “if you put it inside it’ll feel good.” and he takes the bait. he crawls forward, and his cock twitches. outstretched, nervous; one hand takes place on your knees and the others follows in spreading the pretty girl’s legs who lay in his parents bed with arousal leaking between her ass cheeks. “wanna let you feel something better.”

"i'll teach you how to use it, but it can only be mine, k? he looks so cute and your hearts skipping beats, it's getting so loud that you can barely hear. but as he gets closer to you and begins to line it up, asking questions to make sure what he's doing is okay you hear something. "wait!" your stomach drops and your legs do the same, armin fusses so you plave your fingers against his lips. "there it is." it's faint but you can make out that sound, the eerie beeping of a key pad. the distant notification rings through the house, chime! — disarmed, ready to arm— muffled voices, keys, shoes removed, voices growing louder, creaky floor boards. "you're fucking parents."

the two of you jump up. "fuck, fuck, fuck. armin! you said they weren't coming back til tomorrow! why are they here?" the bed was a fucking mess and armin was frozen while you collected yourself. "i-i don't know." tears stream down his cheeks and he starts to panic, the realization kicks in and he's sobbing. the only thing running through his mind is punishment if his parents catch him, when they catch him and you. the girl, the only girl they've warned him about, together in their room. "they're gonna kill me and i'm never gonna see you again and they're gonna ship me away —you're gonna forget about me an-"

"armin, if you don't stop all that bull shit and listen to me." as you readjust your skirt, you instruct him on what to do in this situation. it hasn't been your first, but you're to old to be worrying about getting caught fucking by old hags "got it?" he's already started pulling the sheets off the bed, you duck into his room tossing things everywhere; pulling drawers open and scattering papers on the floor. he runs the sheets to the laundry and tosses the comforter in first as it was the scene of his crime. the sheets could wait. you dig through some of his drawers, adding to the mess; looking for nothing causing a distraction for him. you pop his window open, the alarm chimes and that tells him he needs to be in his room. it gives you time to hop out while his parents find there way to the back if the house yelling his name, but he'll get there first in enough time to...

"armin robert arlert, you better have good reason for opening your window this late at night, so help me god, before i bolt tha-" his mom's eyes twitch. the back of the house is a complete mess, and armin's jamming to the music filtered through his earbuds as he cleans your mess; the cool breeze of the night sweeping through his room. he's stripped to clean boxers and a white tank top. "what is this?" she wails, hysterical and bitchy as always. "just cleaning, my rooms a mess, ma."

"well fix it. quickly. and my sheets, i didn't tell you to take them off. but thank you." she huffs the last part out, turning on her heel stomping down the hall back to his father.

holy shit. under his breath a sigh that releases all the fear accumulated within the last 5 minutes. we pulled it off. it's hard to hear him, but the earbuds pick up enough his voice for you to decipher the static.

"i told you we would… robert."

"you're a fucking genius, but don't ever call me that again."

"you've got a filfthy mouth, maybe i should've let your momma see how her beloved robert gets down." he smacks his lips and yells a good night, embarrassed again. "who are you talking to?"

#armin x reader #armin x reader smut #armin x black reader #armin x black reader smut #armin arlert #armin smut #armin arlet x reader

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ellalalala · 6 months

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A semi-long rant about Dottore's implied self-hatred, loneliness and inner struggles

I am, like many others, endlessly fascinated by Dottore, which means that I've been sucking the game dry for any Dottore content I can find; I've watched the dialogue between him and Nahida numerous times, read the "Zandik's Legacy" notes over and over and even the description of the "Wise Doctor's Pinion" from the Pale Flame artifact set. So much has already been said about him, but I'd like to offer my own two cents about an aspect of his character that is often ignored in favor of his villainy: Dottore's inner struggles.

I'll recount everything that I've gathered and tell you of my interpretation of Dottore's character.

To start, one thing that I never see people mention is a line from Nahida's retelling of the Tatarasuna incident. In the very beginning of the cutscene, we see a monster covered in light blue fur (obviously Dottore) who Nahida describes in a very interesting way. She says:

"Once in a while, the monster would take off its fox fur at night, and lament to itself as it gazed at its reflection in the water: "I am a monstrosity, yet they are too foolish to see it. I pity them."

Of course, it's easy to say that this is just a fairy tale Nahida created to preserve Scaramouche's memories and that this could've been made up - which is only half true! We must remember that Nahida has seen Dottore's consciousness. She already knew of the arguments between his Segments when Dottore confronted her to take the Electro and Dendro gnoses. Why do I bring this specific line up, though?

Because this line outright tells us that: 1) Dottore spent sleepless nights in Tatarasuna reflecting on himself; 2) That he, perhaps sincerely, pitied the people of Tatarasuna for not seeing past his facade.

I also think that the use of the word 'lament' is very interesting. To lament means to express sorrow and regret for something. I would think that this implies Dottore feeling remorseful for not just who he was, but what he would do to Tatarasuna. To provide further proof, I think it is important to look at the expression on the furry monster's face (as Nahida portrays it) when it laments to itself:

(What a cute little thing.)

It looks a bit... upset, doesn't it? Like it is mad at itself as it gazes into the water. This expression, combined with his thoughts and the use of the word 'lament' gives us a clear sign that many ignored: Dottore isn't as shallow of a villain as we thought.

Later in the cutscene, Nahida says:

"But the monster soon found solace when another came to live among the foxes who was not their kin: a kitten, carved from the wood of a white tree, who had been abandoned by the humans."

And in that moment, we see a wide-eyed little monster gazing at the kitten:

(Feels really silly to use this as an example but you've gotta trust the process)

Here, Dottore found someone like himself. An outcast, a creature that did not quite fit in with the ordinary humans - someone who could understand Dottore's loneliness and ostracization. After getting chased out of his hometown for his blasphemous ideas, after getting expelled from the Akademiya and possibly exiled to Aaru Village for his heretical views - Dottore had finally found someone to whom he could say: "See? They will never accept us. It is you and I against them, for they will never understand us."

What person wouldn't seek companionship, after all?

But things didn't turn out the way Dottore expected them to. Unlike Dottore, Scaramouche didn't need to hide his true identity in order to be accepted by the people of Tatarasuna. Thus, the following happened:

"Furious at this happy resolution, the monster lit a fire on the mountain. The terrified animals panicked as the fire spread..."

... and we know the rest. What matters is this: Dottore was angry and jealous of Scaramouche. Exiled from his hometown, rejected by his peers, insulted and looked down upon just for wanting to destroy the imbalance between Man and God - and along comes a puppet, a creation of the Raiden Shogun, who receives acceptance and guidance from the people of Tatarasuna. Not just that, but the only creature who could share Dottore's loneliness is whisked away from him, proving once again that Dottore will never know what it means to have a true companion.

Thus he tricked Scaramouche into believing that Niwa had betrayed them, had him join the Fatui and later used him as the blueprint for the creation of his Segments. Dottore basically ruined Scaramouche's life out of bitter jealousy.

That should be it about Tatarasuna for now. What I'd like to focus on next is the conversation between Dottore and Nahida in the 3.2 Archon Quest.

There are a few lines that interest me, so I'll go over them one by one.

Dottore uses a lot of big words to sound like he's saying something profound when in reality he's saying nothing at all (a nice callback to his Commedia Dell'arte counterpart), but there is one thing that both he and Nahida place great emphasis on: the fact that Dottore, smart as he is, cannot make peace with himself.

First to say it is Dottore. After asking Nahida for her opinion on his Segments, he says:

"Indeed. It's difficult for humans... to make peace with themselves, not to mention oneself from a different period."

The line still feels out of place. It sounds as if he is musing to himself.

Again, we get a line about his Segments, after Nahida asked him to erase them:

"You were observing me, and that's how you know I've long grown tired of their doubts and endless arguments."

I think it's safe to assume that the arguing is a metaphor for his struggle of self-acceptance. It seems every Segment has something to say to the others, but more on that later.

Nahida uses Dottore's own words against him:

"Like you said, it's difficult to make peace with yourself. Being as smart as you are, have you managed to do that?"

It's important to note that Dottore doesn't answer that question, but even without that, it's obvious to us, the players - of course Dottore hasn't managed to do that.

Whenever Nahida questions the relationship between his Segments, Dottore easily changes the subject. For example:

"Is the relationship between all the versions of you really that bad?"

"I don't think there's any need to dwell on that. The surplus versions of me can be exchanged for a Gnosis. Do you think anyone can offer themselves at a higher price?"

His Segments all argue constantly. When considered that they are replicas of Dottore at different stages of his life, this takes on an entirely new meaning - beyond his facade, Dottore is a man who can barely make out who he is.

Consider this also: in "A Winter Night's Lazzo", Columbina tells him, "You're looking very young today, Doctor."

To which Dottore replies, "You know very well that I do not take that as a compliment."

A piece of dialogue that had been brushed off by many, myself included - until I realized what this might imply. Dottore finds Columbina's comment insulting because he hates who he is. He hates the younger versions of himself because they represent a Dottore who didn't have the knowledge he has at this current stage of his life. They weren't as smart, as knowledgeable. But that's not really the full extent of it, of course.

Dottore was never fully accepted by anyone, this we have established. In the Akademiya, the students called him a 'madman', a 'monster' (as said in the Wise Doctor's Pinion). When we meet him in the 3.1 Archon Quest, he is referred to as 'The Outcast'. He is always being alienated, but could we assume that he just accepted this rejection and decided to embrace the titles people had thrown at him? This is just... very bold speculation, of course. It is impossible to deny that Dottore didn't always naturally stand out due to his heretical views, but I think it's worth considering that he could have just chosen to be the monster people thought of him as. After all, in the confrontation between him and Niwa, Dottore tells Niwa to think of him as a monster and a demon (for a reason that was... meant to be comforting? Not very important right now).

Consider also how different all the Segments sounded when they found out that they were being erased. All of the voices, along with their manner of speech, varied greatly; I interpreted this as proof of the many masks Dottore has worn over the course of his life. Dottore abandoned whatever humanity he had and decided to embrace the mask of a monster, constantly reinventing himself because he isn't secure in his identity - perhaps he doesn't have one at all. He is a scholar, a Harbinger, a researcher - but without those titles, what is left? What is he left with when he sheds those facades? The constant dodging of Nahida's questions about his Segments, the arguments and the worries of said Segments, the introspection in the cutscene about the Tatarasuna incident - indeed, Dottore is a man filled with self-hatred. A lonely outcast who has never known the comfort of kinship. A monster who swallowed his loneliness and dedicated his life to research.

That should be it, I suppose. My brain is fried and if I remember anything that I might have missed, I'll add that info later.

I want to mention one thing: this doesn't mean Dottore is a misunderstood good guy - doesn't take a genius to know that that is not true. Dottore has no regard for human life (which is ironic, considering how he believes humans have great potential and he wants them to be equal with the Gods). He has hurt so many and I'm sure he will continue to do so. He is evil, but it should be noted that he was once just an ordinary human, too. There must be an explanation for why he is the way he is. It's easy to paint him as just a monster because damn he's good at what he does; but I like to think that there is a layer to him that we just haven't fully seen yet. I'm excited to find out more about him when Snezhnaya gets released in like 2 years... ha. If you've read this far, thank you a lot! Curious to know what you guys think. I love Dottore

#il dottore #dottore #lore speculation #genshin impact #zandik #i love dottore!

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even-disco-baby · 2 years

Text

KIM KITSURAGI — The lieutenant’s expression is difficult to place as he ponders the mural.

THE NEXT WORLD MURAL — “TRUE LOVE IS POSSIBLE ONLY IN THE NEXT WORLD— FOR NEW PEOPLE. IT IS TOO LATE FOR US. WREAK HAVOC ON THE MIDDLE CLASS.”

INLAND EMPIRE — Right on.

CONCEPTUALIZATION — What a slogan! So many layers in so few words. Perfectly crafted to grab one’s attention and keep hold of it for long after you’ve passed by. You wish you’d thought of it.

“Truer words were never spoken.”

“What a fuckin’ bummer, am I right?”

“Not bad, but I like the one we painted in Martinaise better.”

KIM KITSURAGI — “You mean, the one *you* painted,” he says pointedly. “I had nothing to do with that.”

ESPIRIT DE CORPS — He did like your mural. He’s just never gonna admit it. He’s too committed to the bit.

THE NEXT WORLD MURAL — The words seem to tower over you as you and your partner take them in. Once again, you can’t help but wonder how the Belles Lettres managed to paint this monstrously massive mural without being seen.

VISUAL CALCULUS — Surely there must have been scaffolding involved, or some kind of machinery.

LOGIC — They were seen. Just not by anyone who would disturb their work, or sell them out to the police. Which, if the results of the vote are anything to go by, would be most of the people of Jamrock.

“What do you think about the part about true love, Kim?”

“What do you think about the part about the middle class, Kim?”

“Did you know there was a vote on whether or not to remove the mural?”

KIM KITSURAGI — “We did hear about it back at 57,” he admits. “It’s rare for your district to organize a vote like that. Or any district, for that matter…”

He frowns slightly, peering up at the embracing couple. “I’ll admit, when I heard about it, I had no idea how *big* this thing was. I’m surprised that they voted to keep it. You must be able to see it for miles…”

CONCEPTUALIZATION — Eight stories loud, painted over the corpse of a failed real estate venture. A reminder, a call to action, and a threat, all rolled into one. Constant and inescapable. Oh, yeah. *This* is good stuff.

EMPATHY — It makes the lieutenant uncomfortable.

CONCEPTUALIZATION — That’s the point.

YOU — “How would you have voted?”

KIM KITSURAGI — “I wouldn’t have,” he says drily. “I didn’t live here.”

“All right, fair enough.” (Drop the subject)

“Cmon, Kim. If you *did* live here, which side would you be on?” (Press him)

KIM KITSURAGI — “I don’t know that it’s about taking sides…” His sentence trails as he considers the mural.

PERCEPTION (Sight) — He glances at you for the briefest of moments, and then away. Almost as if he hadn’t meant to do it.

ESPIRIT DE CORPS [Godly: Success] — You make him uncomfortable in much the same way that the mural does. Representative of truths that he doesn’t know what to make of.

There was a time when he dreamt of things like true love. And heroic deeds, and brilliant discoveries, and aerostatic pilots. A home that belonged to him. A table laden with food and crowded with people. The future and the past were polar opposites in his eyes— one a painful collage of loneliness and ostracization, the other a blank canvas, and all the more beautiful for it. It could be anything.

It did not take long for the present to beat it all out of him. And then he blinked, and he was forty-three and alone, having spent twenty years of his life on stubbornness and spite, trying to prove himself to people who didn’t and still don’t care, at the expense of the people that he should have cared for. And he realized it was too late for him.

YOU — Too late for what…?

EMPATHY — To do or be anything different.

KIM KITSURAGI — “…I don’t know,” he finally says. His voice is level, but quiet. “But I can understand why people wanted it to remain.”

He tears his gaze away from the mural at last and looks at you. “What about you? How did you vote?”

YOU — “I can’t remember.”

KIM KITSURAGI — He grimaces slightly. “Right. Sorry…”

“But I think I would have voted for it to go.”

“But I think I would have voted for it to stay.”

KIM KITSURAGI — “That doesn’t surprise me,” he sighs. “I’m sure the part about wreaking havoc on the middle class especially appealed to you.”

“You know it, comrade.”

“No, it was the part about true love being dead.”

“No, it was the part about new people.”

KIM KITSURAGI — He looks at you strangely. “…Oh? What do you make of it?”

“There’s no such thing as new people. We’re all the same, and we’ll always be the same, walking in the same old circles.”

“Fuck the new people and their new world that we’ll never get to see.”

“I think anyone can become a new person if they try. It’s a call to action.”

“Even if it’s too late for us to be new, I think we can still change. And we can still love each other.”

KIM KITSURAGI — He looks for a moment as if he’s going to say something… and then nothing. His lips purse slightly.

EMPATHY [Formidable: Failure] — It’s hard to say what he thinks of your little thesis. Matters of love are tough on him.

COMPOSURE [Legendary: Success] — But you get the feeling that *something* is happening within the lieutenant. There’s a crack in the dam that’s widening every day, and he knows it. He’s afraid to let it happen, but he’s equally powerless to stop it.

INLAND EMPIRE — You’re afraid, too. You’re both the same brand of coward.

VOLITION — You’re both a lot of things that you don’t have to be. It’s too late to have never been them. But it’s not too late to stop.

ESPIRIT DE CORPS — Stopping is precisely what he’s afraid of. He wonders what of himself will be left if he ceases to be *this.*

That’s selfish. We’re both so selfish.

It would be better if we ceased to be anything at all.

Whatever is left, I’ll still love him.

INLAND EMPIRE — How do you know he *wants* your love?

YOU — I don’t know. But he has it, anyway.

THE NEXT WORLD MURAL — A cold wind rushes past you, sending a chill deep into your bones. Unconsciously, you both step closer to each other. Seeking warmth.

#disco elysium #harry du bois #kim kitsuragi #harrykim #kimharry #man idk whatever their tag is #anyway. the next world mural huh.#btw for clarity the cracks in the dam that kim and harry are both afraid of are like.#the realization that they need to stop being cops LSJDHXGXJX #like yeah also the love. but mostly the cop thing. they’re not unrelated i feel #hence why the mural ends with ‘’wreak havoc on the middle class’’

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webslinger-holland · 2 years

Text

Baby Munson | Eddie Munson

Summary: When the reader discovers that she is pregnant with Eddie Munson’s baby, she is thrown out of her own house. She finds refuge with Eddie and his uncle. Though, she must battle the struggles of pregnancy and being slightly ostracized by the town.

Warning: teenage pregnancy, neglectful parents, portrayals of pregnancy, did not include labor scene because it felt too long and detailed

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Pregnant!Reader

Type: maybe mini series idk

Word Count: 4,458 words

It had been raining heavily when it happened. The harsh sound of a wood door slamming shut in front of a seventeen year old girl. She had just been thrown out of her house by her parents since she had committed a unforgivable sin in their eyes. She was being shunned, punished.

So there, she knelt in a puddle of rainwater outside her parents’ house. She replayed the events of the night in her head, remembering the looks of disappointment and utter disgust on her parents faces when she confessed. She begged her father as he dragged her towards the front door before throwing her out into the rain and slamming the door in her face. They had no daughter, not anymore at least.

In slight shock and disbelief, Y/n simply sat there for a couple minutes. She cried to herself because she honestly didn’t know what she was going to do or where she was going to go tonight. After some time, she rose to her feet and began walking wherever her feet took her.

She walked against the harsh winds and the cold rain, trudging through beside everything that just happened. She hugged her arms close to her for warmth and she kept her head hung low so water didn’t get into her eyes. She didn’t carry any of her belongings because she didn’t have any with her. She only had the clothes on her back which were now soaked to the skin.

It was dark outside, probably around ten o’clock at night. At the given moment, Eddie was making himself a little late night snack. He opened the bag of popcorn and proceeded to dumb its contents into a large bowl. His uncle was situated on the couch, flipping through channels on the television. He grumbled something about nothing good being on.

All of the sudden, there was a knock on the front door of their trailer. Both of their heads turned towards the door. They hadn’t been expecting anyone, not at this hour and not in this storm. Nevertheless, Eddie went across the room and pulled the door open. There, standing in front of him, was his girlfriend.

“Y/N?” Eddie asked.

He quickly took note of her state. Her clothes were absolutely drenched, sticking to her skin. Her hair stuck to her face, but it had been brushed away a few times so she could see where she was going. The skin under her eyes was red and puffy because she had been crying for so long. And the tip of her nose was pink from crying too. She said nothing.

“What are you doing here? It’s late and it’s pouring--” Eddie wondered. He was quickly cut off when she took a step forward and wrapped her arms around him in a desperate hug.

Just then, the tears came back. She squeezed her eyes shut tight in attempts to keep them from falling, but it was no use. Her body racked with sobs. She cried ever so softly and quietly.

“Hey. Hey,” Eddie tried to reassure her. “It’s okay. I’m right here.”

Without hesitation, Eddie ushered her inside his warm and cozy trailer. He closed the door behind him. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder in hopes of bringing her some sense of comfort.

In a second, Uncle Wayne had returned from the hallway with a brand new towel in his hands. He handed it to her. His face laced with a strong look of concern for her.

In response, Y/n quietly thanked him for the towel. She wrapped the towel around her shoulders, shivering softly. This helped dry her off a bit and gave her some warmth.

“C-Could I stay here for a while? My parents--,” Y/n almost couldn’t bring herself to say. “They kicked me out.”

“Yeah. Of course. You can stay in my room,” Eddie nodded his head. He figured it would be best not to ask questions about what happened right now. She was clearly distraught and she probably just needed some time.

Now, there was only one bedroom in the trailer. Out of the kindness of Wayne’s heart, he let his nephew have the room to himself. He slept on a folding cot in the living room. The system worked. Neither of them complained about it.

Eddie was changing the sheets on his bed since he hadn’t done that it the longest time and since he had a guest staying. While Eddie gathered the gross mess of dirty sheets in his hands, Y/n had shuffled to stand by his bedside table. She timidly grabbed the small opened box of condoms laying there.

Naturally, Eddie lifted his head to look at her. He saw that she was holding his box of condoms. His facial expression dropped in sudden realization. Hesitantly, Y/n lowered the box of condoms back onto the side table. She turned her head to look at him with tears streaming in her eyes. Everything was communicated so clearly with that one look in her eyes.

“Are you--” Eddie questioned. He took a step forward. He pointed to her. “Did I--” Eddie couldn’t speak.

Without saying anything to confirm or deny the accusation, Y/n went to wrap her arms around her stomach as if she were trying to hide the fact. She could feel the tears streaming down the sides of her face. She was so overcome with emotions.

After some time, Y/n had dried off. She changed into some spare clothes that Eddie had given her to borrow. She crawled into bed with the hopes of falling asleep and waking up from this terrible nightmare. Thankfully, Eddie was there to help her fall asleep. He simply brushed her hair down with his fingers and that seemed to lull her to sleep.

Once Y/n was sleeping, Eddie quietly exited his bedroom and closed the door behind him. He shuffled back into the living room. He found his uncle rearranging the living room, settling up another bed on the ground for his nephew. Upon hearing his approach, Uncle Wayne turned around to face his nephew. He looked at him expectingly.

“I—I got her pregnant,” Eddie choked. He had a build up of tears in the corners of his eyes, threatening to fall at any given moment.

“Oh Eddie,” Uncle Wayne said softly. He looked at his nephew with such sympathy in his eyes. He wasn’t going to yell at him or scold him like his father would have.

Instead, Uncle Wayne brought his nephew over to the couch in the living room. He helped him sit down with a single hand on his back for support. He didn’t want to ask any questions. He didn’t want to overwhelm him, because he probably was feeling an overwhelming sense of various emotions. So he sat quietly and waited for his nephew to talk to him.

Out of instinct, Eddie rubbed his hand over his face. He kept his hand over his mouth, reveling in the news that was just broken to him. He swallowed the heavy lump lingering at the back of his throat. He began to panic a little.

“I-I just don't understand,” Eddie began. He raised his hand in defense. “I mean, we were so careful every time. W-We used protection,” Eddie claimed.

His uncle only nodded his head understandingly. He had always been the more quiet type, more of a listener than a talker. He turned his head and looked into the distance. His nephew breathed a long sigh.

“You’ll get through this,” Uncle Wayne encouraged. He went to look at his nephew sitting beside him. He sent him a weak smile. “Both of you will,” Uncle Wayne added.

“I’m not ready to be a father,” Eddie shook his head.

“Most people aren't,” Uncle Wayne shrugged his shoulders. “But you will be when the time comes,” Uncle Wayne concluded.

That night, Eddie couldn’t seem to fall asleep. It wasn’t because he wasn’t sleeping in his own bed. It was more because he couldn’t stop thinking. The questions of “how did this happen” or “what are we going to do” kept coming up. And he couldn’t answer them.

Now, Y/n told him that she found out just earlier that day after having stolen a handful of pregnancy tests from the nearby gas station. She brought one of the pregnancy tests to show him for even more proof. And sure enough, there were two little pink lines on it.

For some reason, Eddie kept hearing the sounds of a newborn crying. He didn’t know how to take care of a baby. He'd never even held one before! Whether he liked it or not, he was going to have a newborn baby to take care of and provide for a couple months.

In that moment, Eddie decided that he was going to do everything in his power to make sure his girlfriend was cared for during the pregnancy. He was choosing to be there for her. He was going to provide her with all of her needs, whether that be food cravings or much needed back massages.

Even after the baby was born, Eddie was determined to pull his own weight. He thought about how he could take the night shifts and feed the baby a bottle. He'd figure out how to change a diaper. He wondered if there was a parenting book in the library that he could check out. No matter what, Eddie was going to take care of her and the baby.

During the early stages of the first trimester, Y/n had the worst case of morning sickness. Almost every morning, she was woken up by the sudden urge to throw up. She’d have to race to the bathroom just to yank open the toilet seat. Her stomach would contract violently as heaps of throw up came out of her mouth.

Despite the fact that it was around five or six in the morning, Eddie would always come in to hold her hair behind her head. He’d stand over her hunched figure sitting on the ground. Her hair was collected in a tight grip at the back of her head so she never had to worry about loose strands falling into her face. Sometimes, Eddie found himself rubbing her back in a reassuring manner and whisper encouraging words to her. He was in there every morning with her.

Over the next couple weeks, the word had finally spread around town. A large majority of the towns people were disgusted by the news, secretly calling her ‘a whore’ behind her back. And saying things like ‘that’s what she gets for sleeping around’ despite the fact that she had only slept with her boyfriend. And they didn’t blame her parents for throwing her out on the streets, thinking that she deserved it and maybe she’d learn her lesson.

Then there was a small minority of people who just felt pity for her. This group main consisted of the community who lived in the trailer park. They had heard that she had been thrown out by her parents. They felt bad for her. She was just a kid anyways.

The worst part was the high school. She had stopped coming to school since her parents refused to pay the monthly school bill. Now this only sparked rumors in the hallways. The vast majority of students figured that she had gotten pregnant, though they didn’t know by whom. This became such a talked about scandal that the principal had to address it at one of the school assemblies.

Whenever Eddie and Y/n would go out, it was inevitable that they were going to receive stares from people passing. Especially from women who were always trying to see if she was starting to show yet. Eddie always handed her one of his jackets and she used this to conceal her growing stomach from the world.

One day, there was a knock on the front door. At the given moment, Eddie was working on his campaign in his bedroom and Uncle Wayne was working. So Y/n went to open the door. She figured it was just one of the neighbors coming to stop by.

But when she opened the door, she was surprised to see Mrs Wheeler and Mrs Mayfield standing in front of her. They both wore the biggest and brightest smiles on their faces. And they each carried a large box full of miscellaneous things.

Behind Mrs Mayfield was her own daughter named Max. She had just started her first year of high school and it was their first year living in the trailer park themselves. In contrast, Mrs Wheeler came from the middle class suburbs. She had her own large white cookie cutter house, lined with perfectly trimmed hedges. It felt like such an odd thing, seeing those two women together considered their very different backgrounds.

“Mrs Wheeler,” Y/n acknowledged because she knew her daughter Nancy from school. “Mrs Mayfield,” Y/n added.

For a second, Y/n really didn’t know what to do. She looked between the two women, wondering what they could possibly want from her. She shifted her weight onto one side and just stood there awkwardly. Then she cleared her throat.

“Is there something I can do for you?” Y/n wondered. She quickly wrapped her sweater around her evident baby bump because she felt so self-conscious about it.

“We have some things for you,” Mrs Mayfield said. She gestured to the large cardboard box in her hands. “And for your baby,” Mrs Mayfield included with a gentle smile.

“M-My baby?” Y/n questioned.

“Yeah. Just a couple things that we collected from when we had little ones of our own,” Mrs Wheeler replied. She glanced at the other woman standing beside her.

“Mainly just clothing and toys,” Mrs Mayfield nodded her head.

"Of course,” Y/n was brought back. She placed her hand on her forehead. “Come on it,” she said while moving out of the way and opening the door a little further.

Together, Mrs Wheeler and Mrs Mayfield placed the two large boxes on the coffee table in the center of the living room. Then the two of them proceeded to sit down on the couch. They opened the boxes and started taking some of the contents out.

So Mrs Mayfield pulled out a couple newborn onesies. She claimed that Max was born much too big for the clothes she had so they weren’t even used yet. The only unfortunate thing was that she only had one daughter so there weren't any boy themed clothes. But Y/n claimed that it was fine and she was most grateful for them anyways.

Now Mrs Wheeler had much more baby clothes on her. Since she had two daughters and one son of her own, she brought a whole variety of options since they wouldn’t know the gender until the baby was born. She was even so kind as to give her a newborn and toddler car seat, stating that Holly had just grown out of her’s.

Then came the baby toys. With the help of all three Wheeler kids, they had assembled a small pile of old toys that they didn’t necessarily play with anymore. Nancy had decided to give away some of her stuffed animals, thinking she was a little too old to have those now. Mike gave away some of his little action figures, toy trains, and automobiles. And Holly wanted to give the new baby her old rattle, some building blocks, and pop up books.

All the while, Y/n was marveling at the adorable little toys and trinkets. She let her fingers graze over a few of them, realizing how blessed she was to receive these. Then she held up a little onesie to view, which only made the smile grow on her face. She thanked them for their generosity.

On the sidelines, Max was sitting on the floor next to the coffee table. She kept stealing glances towards the older teenage girl. She saw the baby bump peeking out from behind her sweater.

“Do you think you’ll have a boy or a girl?” Max wondered curiously. She kept a blank face, but she was beaming with genuine curiosity.

“I-I don’t know. I haven’t really thought about it,” Y/n confessed with a shrug of the shoulders. She folded some baby clothes in her lap, setting them off to the side. “Eddie and I-- we are both an only child,” Y/n explained.

“Have you thought of names yet?” Max mentioned. She felt the smile growing at the corners of her lips.

“No,” Y/n smiled back. “No, we haven't.”

That night, Eddie came into his bedroom carrying two bowls of ice cream. He sat down on the bed and went to lean against the headboard next to his girlfriend. He placed her the bowl of ice cream on top of her round stomach and it stayed there perfectly. He began eating his own bowl of ice cream.

“We really should come up with names, Eddie.” Y/n said. She discarded an empty notebook that she had been holding for the longest time. She had been trying to think of good names to write down.

“Here,” Eddie said as he placed his bowl on the bedside table. He proceeded to pick up the notebook and pencil. “I got a couple names in mind,” Eddie confessed.

He quickly scribbled down a short list of names on the piece of paper. Afterwards, Eddie handed her the notebook for her to read. He grabbed his bowl of ice cream so he could keep eating it. He stuffed a spoonful in his mouth.

“Really?” Y/n looked at him. “Ozzy is your first pick?” Y/n said with a slight scoff.

“It’s a good name! It’s different. It’s unique,” Eddie was honestly trying to make a case for this option. He really just liked Black Sabbath.

“I don’t think so,” Y/n chuckled softly. She looked back down at the list. “John is a good one. But did you only pick that name because of John Lennon?” Y/n wondered.

“Uh, just look at the next one,” Eddie tried to avoid answering the question. He pointed to the notebook in her hands.

“Kirk,” Y/n read. “What? Like Kirk Hammett from Metallica?”

“I was hoping to get away with these,” Eddie let out a loud sigh of defeat and had a smile growing on his face.

“I know you too well,” Y/n shrugged her shoulders. She noticed something on the list. “You don’t have any girl names listed here,” Y/n acknowledged.

“I couldn’t think of any,” Eddie confessed.

“Watch us have a girl,” Y/n snorted.

“Would that be so bad?” Eddie asked with a hint of seriousness in his tone of voice. He looked at her with such sincerity in his eyes. “Is any of this so bad? Us having a baby?” Eddie added.

“At first, I think I was scared.” Y/n confessed. She thought about her next words carefully, knowing that Eddie was depending on them. “But things have gotten better. I feel...happy and I am excited to meet our little one soon,” Y/n said with a small smile on her face.

With that, Y/n placed her hand on top of her bulging stomach. She rubbed her hand over it a couple times in a reassuring and comforting manner. All of the sudden, Eddie placed his hand over hers. His thumb brushed against the back of her hand.

A broad smile grew at the corners of his lips. He leaned forward to press a single kiss to the center of her forehead. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder, holding her close to his side. He used his other hand to rub her stomach. He smiled at the thought of his baby being right there and eventually getting to meet him/her in short due time.

“Me too,” Eddie spoke softly.

Now, several months had passed along in the pregnancy. Everything seemed to be in order for the baby’s arrival. The doctors claimed that the baby was healthy, suggesting that he or she could arrive any day now. Despite everything, Eddie was more anxious and nervous for when the time would come. He spent most of his days fretting over his girlfriend, checking on her every couple of minutes to make sure she was okay.

One night, Y/n was tossing and turning in her sleep for many hours. She wasn’t able to get into a comfortable position and she was having minor contractions. She began to realize that they were growing a lot stronger and a lot closer together.

Carefully, she hoisted herself into a sitting position on the bed. She went to tap on Eddie’s arm in hopes of coaxing him awake. All of the sudden, Y/n felt another contraction coming. She hissed at the tight feeling, squeezing her eyes shut and clutching onto her stomach. She couldn’t take the pain any more.

“Eddie,” Y/n said breathlessly as the contraction began to subside. “Eddie, I need you to wake up.”

“What’s wrong?” Eddie asked sluggishly. He rolled over to face her, trying to burrow his face back into the pillow so he could get some sleep.

“I-I don’t know what’s happening,” Y/n confessed. She began to breathe heavily to herself. “I think the baby is coming,” Y/n replied.

Upon hearing this, Eddie’s eyes snapped open suddenly. He went straight into panic mode. He jumped out of their shared bed, hurrying around the room to find some spare clothes. He quickly grabbed his car keys off the side table.

In the background, Y/n had shifted to sit over the side of the bed. Her hands clutched at the bed sheets as another contraction struck her like a ton of bricks. She had never experienced pain like this before.

All of the sudden, Eddie knelt down in front of her. He was holding her favorite pair of shoes in his hands. He carefully slipped each shoe onto her foot before helping her stand to her feet. He walked her towards the front of the trailer with one hand secured behind her back. He closed the door behind him before heading straight towards his van. Then the two of them drove to the hospital.

After nearly eighteen hours of labor, the two young teenagers became parents to a beautiful baby girl. She was quite small, later weighing at only five pounds and some odd ounces. It also wasn’t surprising that she came out with a head full of hair, curtesy of her father.

The newborn baby had released a loud cry of protest. She was quickly cleaned by the doctor because she was covered in this white substance and a little blood. They wrapped her in a soft blanket before handing the baby to the new mother.

With some hesitation, Y/n took the bundled baby into her arms. She held her close to her chest, not really sure what else to do. She brought one of her hands up to hold the back of the baby’s head because she remembered that newborns can’t support their own head. She tried to soothe the baby by whispering soft hushes.

Naturally, with a mother’s touch, the baby seemed to quiet down in her arms. She quickly found that she had forgotten all the pains and aches she had to endure in order to birth her daughter. She was so caught up in the moment that nothing else seemed to matter anymore.

On the sidelines, Eddie was looking down at the little pink baby with a blank expression on his face. He honestly didn't know what to think or feel in that moment. He stood there frozen for a couple seconds until he felt a few small droplets of tears running down his face. He didn’t know how long he had been holding them in for.

Those were some of the most genuine tears he had ever cried before. He felt an overwhelming surge of utter joy and happiness. His heart began to swell in his chest and was threatening to burst at any second. His lips tugged into the biggest smile ever.

In a shy and timid manner, Eddie shuffled forward in his place until he was standing right beside the bed. He leaned down a little so he could get a closer look at the newborn.

The newborn baby’s head was burrowing into the crook of her mother’s neck. The warmth of her body must have felt so comforting to the baby. She had fallen asleep, breathing the occasional snuffles of sound.

Hesitantly, Eddie reached forward to stroke the top of the baby’s head and brushed some of her hair. Then his finger moved to touch the swell of her cheek. He watched the way the baby leaned into his touch. And he smiled down at her.

“She’s so soft,” Eddie commented. He proceeded to touch her little feet, which were poking out of the blanket now. He really couldn’t contain his smile. “So tiny,” Eddie added.

“She’s perfect,” Y/n said breathlessly since she was still trying to recover from just giving birth. She released a long sigh. She felt the sudden weight of sleep threatening to take hold of her at any moment.

“You should rest,” Eddie suggested. “I’ll take care of her.”

As if on cue, Eddie brought his hands forward to take his daughter into his grasp. He held one hand underneath her head and the other behind her back to support her. He handled her very cautiously and carefully at first because he was afraid she might break. She was just so little and light.

When Eddie lifted his head to look at his girlfriend, he found that she was already fast asleep. He quickly directed his attention back towards the sleeping infant in his arms. He bounced her gently in order to soothe her.

He slipped his finger into her grasp, watching the way her fingers curled around his single one. He didn’t realize how small she was. Most of his hand covered her backside and her head was still too small to fit in the palm of his other hand. He spent so much time admiring all her little details from the mess of hair on her head to her tiny fingernails. His favorite part was her little pink nose though.

As Eddie sat in one of the chairs in the hospital room, he cradled his newborn daughter close to his chest. He was staring down at her, simply watching how peacefully she slept. For a brief second, Eddie could have sworn that he had seen the baby smile up at him which only had him smile back. He had never seen anything more pure and precious than that. And he absolutely couldn’t wait until she did it again.

WHAT’S HER NAME GONNA BE???

PART TWO HERE

TAGLIST:

@m-rae23 @boomhauer @falling2ashes @ietss @colbybrocksantidote @okxysage @joesphquinnswife @moonyinthestars @ajokeformur-ray @moremunson @stephanie-lkj @stxvercgersslut @embeautifulstarship @luveves-world @that-lame-ghoul9000 @queenxxkiller @alisslahey @diaa-20 @bloodsworth-creates @my-tearsricochet @dunbar-9 @katiekamt @daniscool1 @grapejuicelh @arminsskittle @scenesofobx @https-maitais @slutforrafecameron @animeangel21 @emotionaldreamer @homemadedyno @linkpk88 @persephone13 @steamystrangerfics @themoon-goddess @eddie-swhore @nulixity @lillypad910 @marvelouslyme96 @kaqua @munson-burner @ollqos @cristi-with-scissors @noakrootje

#eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson series #eddie munson x pregnant reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #stranger things vol 2 spoilers #stranger things vol 2

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pettyprocrastination · 11 months

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hiiiiii tj <3

i see you're back in your konig era and was wondering if you have any new hcs for our big teddy bear <3

HIIII ERIIIII :D

warnings: description of bullying, violence, social anxiety, insecurities, smut

SFW

So for me personally he’s very. Socially inept. Not in a ‘cute soft anxiety boy’ way but in the way that he will come off either deeply unsettling by staring at you in silence or like a total fucking asshole. Spent his entire childhood severely bullied and ostracized so any sort of slight against him, he will take personally and gets easily frustrated with himself for not handling situations/social intricacies smoothly

Probably has plenty of stretch marks from having such a big growth spurt growing up.

Something about being severely bullied and then realizing his own size and strength means he could give his harassers some ferociousness back as a teen def…led to something.

I HC that he has some pretty severe scarring on his face from being ganged up on as a kid, which only furthered him being an outsider to other kids/teens growing up so he wears his hood or some sort of facial covering on base as well. Severe trauma and all that.

Most definitely has a criminal record from when he was a kid and fought back against a bully after said incident and ended up just getting tunnel vision and…destroying that poor kid. The case was either sealed because he was a minor or expunged completely because the argument was that it was in self defense and he had the scars to prove their previous assaults on him. Nonetheless. It left him fucked up.

Shifting from being the defenseless kid being harassed and bullied to a bloodied teenager that now knows his strength and his capabilities in defending himself. Ough.

Part of the reason he sheds his insecurities on the field. He’s able to not worry about being watched or ridiculed and just go full fucking ham and he loves it. Part of the reason why his voice lines are so shrieky and gloating. I love it lmao.

If you’re on his side/somebody he considers to be an ally/friend? He may not talk much but will sort of…loom about. Small interjections here and there but overall just this shadow following you around- not that you mind.

Will look over at you when he does something successfully for a bit of praise like ‘hey? Did you see that? Wasn’t that cool? Please tell me im cool’ without saying it outloud.

I’m not sure if him being 6’10 is genuine canon (i can’t remember where I saw that if im being honest) but id imagine given how tall he looks finding clothes that fit him are a fucking pain.

DIY king. At his height and size he will have to do the occasional alterations on his clothes. Grew up with a single mother who did her all to give her baby boy a good life which meant teaching him how to sew from a young age, a small hobby he would partake in while sitting at his mother’s side and beam bright when she told him he was doing a good job.

Enjoys being in the wilderness quite a bit.

I imagine him to be a ginger for some reason. His hair isn’t too long but enough that he can tie it up so it doesn’t get in his face. If you become close enough to him that you can see him without his hood on, please run your fingers through his hair he will reach nirvana.

I’d also imagine that after spending so long covering his face, being without it feels. Weird. A touch overstimulating at first too.

Sort of like how in that one ep of the mandalorian season two where din has to take off his helmet to get into that database, you see all his emotions and him react to the wind hitting his face because he isn’t used to it.

NSFW

That being said. Once you kiss him he’s a bit of an addict for it. Won’t be out of the norm to find him pulling you back into his lap with a whisper of “one more, liebling? Please?” when you have to leave for a briefing in five minutes but then he nibbles at that spot on your neck and you just can’t say no to him.

Not a virgin, but not overly experienced either. I’d imagine there’s been a few flings in the past of folks who have met this quiet giant and just had to suck him off cause I mean, who wouldn’t? But the genuine intimacy of face to face, holding one another while fucking? It’s a rarity he hasn’t truly been able to experience yet.

Big dick and doesn’t realize it.

Loves a good makeout sesh. Doesn’t care if it’s juvenile or whatever if you sit on his lap and put on a movie in the background he will make out for fucking hours with his hand slipping up your shirt and pressing himself against your hips.

Tit man. Maybe it’s because I’m a fan of the honkers myself and i'm just projecting but the dude loooves to play with his partner’s chest. Big? small? Flat? He doesn’t give a fuck. Titties are titties please for the love of god let him touch you

Kinda goes insane for the type of shirt where he can see the outline of your tits through it if you aren’t wearing a bra. Don’t be surprised if he corners you during the day and scolds you for being “So cruel” to him by wearing it before he starts mouthing at your chest through the fabric.

Kissing, sucking, biting, licking, the man loves tits and will do it all god bless him.

Nipple piercings will make his head explode

Loooves eating pussy. SO so much. Will go to the point where you have to pull on his hair to get him off of you and then he has the audacity to look at you with those sad eyes and ask for one more.

Loves loves loves when you leave hickeys on him. He’ll never get in trouble for having them since he’s covered from head to toe at all times in the field but man does it get him riled up. Sees it as some sort of mark of your relationship to him, a little reminder for him to see in the mirror after your night together and he will plead for you to mark him up, he’s tough he can take it.

“You can do it for me, can’t you? I know you can. Just one more, yes?”

The type to kiss the pussy first, he’s a romantic.

Will mumble/moan praise while between your legs. Talking about how pretty your pussy is and how you're so soft all over it has you completely braindead.

Absolutely obscene with it, moaning and sloppy damn near drooling between your legs because he’s so drunk on you.

Has no preference to where he gets to cum. Sex with you is joy itself but if you were to twist his arm: he’d say he likes to cum inside of you.

He won’t say that he likes it so much because then he can lean back and watch his cum seep out of your hole, that’s his little secret. (Not a well kept one lmao)

Probably has a porno-esque fantasy of a “sparring turned to sex” scenario that he keeps tucked away in the back of his mind at all times.

#ask #asks #konig x you #konig x reader #HEHE TY ERI #könig x fem reader #könig x you #könig x reader

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slasher-male-wife · 10 months

Text

Male reader making slashers realize they're queer

Because it's pride month and also because I've come across a lot of undisclosed fem reader stuff I decided to write this. The reader isn't specifically cis but they are seen as a man. I know Adam isn't a slasher but I've got Saw on the brain.

Includes: RZ Michael Myers, Brahms Heelshire, Martin Mathias, Severen, Adam Faulkner and Bo Sinclair

Warnings: Slashers checking out reader, flirting, internalized homophobia on slashers part, reader wears "revealing" clothes (tank tops, shorts, being shirtless), vague descriptions of readers body, stalking kind of, mention of drinking blood in Martins bit

RZ Michael Myers

Michael noticed you moved into the same neighborhood as the Myers house. He finally saw you one hot summer day when you were outside doing yard work. You're wearing cut off jean shorts and a tight tank top. Michael questioned why you would wear something like this as a man.

But he couldn't deny that he enjoyed watching you work. Michael never explicitly knew anything about sexuality. He just knew if you weren't dating someone of the opposite gender, you'd be ostracized. But he couldn't help tilting his head as you wiped away sweat on your forehead while you mowed your lawn.

Michael felt the voice in his head telling him to attack you quiet down as a funny feeling bloomed in his stomach. He felt this way before when he saw something that excited him. But why would a man excite him like this? Michael went through any explanation he could in his mind while he watched you finish up your mowing. But eventually he realized, he might be attracted to you.

He momentarily thought about what other people would say, when he remembers he doesn't care. Watching you work out in your yard made him feel funny, and pushed away the voice in his head telling him to kill. He's felt this way before. But it was brief and usually only happened with women. You went back inside after you were done and Michael made a mental note of where your house is. He's most definitely going to be visiting you later Y/N.

Brahms Heelshire

Brahms was delighted to learn he'd be getting a new grocery boy. Malcolm was annoying and that was before he stole Greta away from him. Now that he's hired a new grocery boy he's been anxious to meet you. The day finally came and he rushed in the walls to the door to meet you.

You entered the house and looked around, groceries in hand. You'd been told no one was home today so you made your way into the kitchen. Brahms follows you and he can't help but admire you. He's gone without seeing anyone for awhile and now seeing you is making him feel funny, like the way he did with Greta.

You set down the groceries in the kitchen and start to unpack them. Brahms watches as that funny feeling only grows. He's only felt this way about women before. He can't feel this way about a man right? His parents would have told him if he could. He puts a hand on his stomach to try and stop the feeling as you keep moving around the kitchen.

Brahms guesses boys can like other boys. He's never though about that before however. Maybe it's just the fact that he's been alone for so long that's making him feel this way. Maybe he just needs a better look at you. Brahms knocks gently on the wall and you turn your head to look over. He knocks again and you walk over to the wall.

Now that you're closer, Brahms funny feeling grows very strong. Could he really like other boys? He looks at your beautiful eyes and wonders what your lips would feel like if he were to kiss you. He watches as you walk away from the wall and you finish putting away the groceries. Maybe he could get you to stay and watch the doll for a few days, or forever.

Martin Mathias

Martin is making another grocery delivery. He knocks on your door and you open it, not wearing a shirt. You give him a smile and he smiles back shyly, looking back down at your shirtless chest.

"Oh you must be here to deliver my groceries. I'm Y/n. Your name is Martin right?" You ask. Martin nods, "Well come in. My wallet's in the kitchen." You walk away and he follows you, shutting the door behind him. He feels weird after seeing you shirtless. His eyes have always lingered on shirtless men and barely clothed men whenever he saw them. He follows you into the kitchen and sets down your groceries, looking back down at your chest again.

"Do you live alone Y/N? Or do you have a girlfriend?" He asks as you pull out your wallet.

"Oh no I live alone. If we're being honest, women don't interest me too much." Martin tries to understand what you mean by that as you hand him some money.

"Why are you shirtless?" He asks, resisting the urge to reach out and touch your stomach.

"Oh well I was just working on building some furniture upstairs. I could actually use some help on building it if you wouldn't mind." Martin pockets the money and shakes his head.

"I don't mind." You smile again and pat his shoulder, that weird feeling returning. It's like the feeling he gets when he sees a pretty woman passing by, but this time he doesn't want to drink your blood. He follows you upstairs and looks into your rooms before entering one with a half built bookcase.

"So I need someone to hold this down while I screw the back in." You explain, showing Martin what to do. He follows your instructions and holds it down while you screw it in. But the entire time he's just watching you. He's heard the term 'homosexual' be used in the past to describe men who love other men. Martin never considered himself to be a homosexual. But now looking at you, he might be one after all.

Severen

Severen leaves his room as it fully turns into night. The moon's high up in the sky and the soft yellow lights outside of the motel rooms shines down on him. He lights up a cigarette and starts to walk. He doesn't need to feed just yet, so picking up a pretty girl is the next best bet. He turns a corner and notices you standing in front of a vending machine.

Something comes over him in those first few moments he sees you. Despite being alive for a hundred and something years he's still denying the weird feeling he gets around certain men. Maybe it's the fact that he's full from his last feed, or some random courage, but he puts his cigarette between his lips and makes his way over to you.

"What's a young man like you doing at a motel like this?" He asks, looking you up and down. You turn your attention to him and smile.

"Well this young man is taking a road trip on a budget and this is the best motel he could find," You turn your attention back to the vending machine, "I didn't know it came with attractive men too." You whisper to yourself, pressing a button. Severen's smile grows wider and he takes a long drag from his cigarette.

"Hell I'm on a road trip too sweet thing. I never knew there would be such pretty boys here too. Now how about we go back to my room and play some cards." His smile grows smug as he taps off the ash from his cigarette. You hear the can of soda fall and you pick it up, turning your attention back to him.

"Well this 'pretty boy' was hoping to go out tonight. I never expected to have company but if you wanna come with me I heard of a great bar near here, the kind of the stone wall variety," You crack open your can and take a sip. Severen's smile only grows when he hears the mention of a bar.

"I'll take you up on that sugar. I'd like to buy you a nice drink tonight." This time your smile grows.

"I'm in room 22. How about you meet me there in half an hour. What's your name handsome?" You ask, taking another sip from your can.

"I'm Severen. I'm also very pleased to meet you."

"Well I'm Y/n. I'll see you in half an hour Severen." You turn around and head back to your room. He can't deny it any longer, he's definitely bisexual.

Adam Faulkner

Adam knocks on your apartment door. He's spoken to you over the phone about hiring him to take pictures of your work for a portfolio. He looks around the hallway, soaking in how much nicer this place is than his apartment. You open the door and greet him with a smile.

He immediately notices how attractive you look, then he notices your choice of shorts and shirt, both covered in fake blood, something peeling up and other unidentifiable stains.

"Oh you must be Adam. Please come in, come in. I'm working on something right now but I've got some other stuff ready for you to shoot." He nods his head and enters your apartment, which is much nicer than his, as he expected. He looks over at your living room and sees a white sheet hug up for a back drop and lots of Styrofoam heads, each with a different special effects makeup look.

"Your place is really nice," He says, looking over at you as you walk into the kitchen. He follows you and finds you in the middle of working on another Styrofoam head. This one has a rotting, zombies face on it, "You're really good at this stuff." He says, trying to distract himself from how hot you look. Adam know's he's not gay, he can't be gay. You smile and pick up a brush.

"Oh thank you. I've been doing this since I was a teenager. I need to update my portfolio and you're affordable and a great photographer. I just need to finish up this one look and we can get started." You say, putting some color on the brush and applying it on the mask.

"Yeah that sounds great. Do you have any roommates or anything I should be aware of?" He asks, more interested in if you're dating someone than anything else. He's telling himself it's just curiosity, it's not like he's gay or anything. You shake your head.

"I live alone, but I am looking for a roommate, ever since my partner and I broke up," You tell him, setting down your brush. Adam feels better when he hears you're single, but not because he wants to date you or anything, "Alright let's get started." You say, picking up the head and walking into your living room. Adam follows behind you and tries not to stare too low.

You set up the first head and look back over at him. Adam is setting up his camera on it's stand, trying to ignore his sweaty hands. But when he looks back at you adjusting the head, he can't deny it anymore. He finds a man hot as hell.

Bo Sinclair

Lester told him about someone coming into town. His exact words were "Not to be a prude or anything, but he's showing a little too much skin." Bo laughed it off and waited for you at the gas station. But when you walk in it takes Bo some effort to not laugh too loud. Your tank top and cut off denim shorts reminds him of when he was a teenager. But it also gives him another thought, one he quickly pushes away.

"Howdy, what do ya need?" He asks. You walk up to the counter and give him a warm smile.

"You'll have to forgive me I'm not any good with cars but the man who drove me here said my car is low on oil and I needed to buy some." Bo nods his head and looks you up and down.

"When was the last time you changed your oil?" Your eyes widen and you press your lips tightly together.

"You're supposed to change your car's oil? Well shit I've been driving it for about a year now. Is that bad?" Bo smiles smugly as those thoughts return, and he tries to think about why these thoughts keep happening. Just because he thinks you're a little hot and stupid doesn't mean he's gay.

"Well I'll tell you what. We can go pick up your car in my tow truck and bring it back here to fix it up. Are you here with anyone else? I don't wanna keep your girlfriend waiting or anything." Your smile returns and you shake your head.

"Oh no I'm alone. I don't have a partner to come with me on these road trips." Your language tips Bo off and he quickly decides what he should do with you. He feels around his pocket, pretending to look for something.

"Shoot you know what? I forgot my keys up at my house. Why don't you come with me real quick to go get them sugar." You chuckle and nod your head.

"I've got plenty of time sir you don't need to worry." As he's walking around the counter at the gas station it finally hits him that maybe he really is gay.

"I promise you've got nothing to worry about darlin' and please, call me Bo."

#michael myers x you #michael myers x y/n #rz myers x reader #brahms x reader #brahms heelsire x reader #martin mathias x reader #severen x reader #adam faulkner x reader #adam faulkner stanheight x reader #bo sinclair x you #bo sinclair x y/n #bo sinclair x reader #slasher x y/n #slasher x reader #slasher fanfiction

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eldragon-x · 11 months

Text

Okay let's talk about how actually Bill is attached to Ford and genuinely sees him as a friend and maybe even likes him more than literally anyone else which was originally going to mainly revolve around Weirdmageddon, however I absolutely needed to add creator commentary and extra-canon in order to dig into Bill's mentality.

First, I'd like to point out this comment by Hirsch from the Sock Opera DVD commentary about how Bill views Mabel:

“Bill genuinely believes that Mabel’s kinda like him. He sees Mabel as a chaos agent. Like, Mabel has got a little bit of a seed of anarchy in her, she’s a little bit selfish, she likes to have fun at whatever cost. And Bill is all those things times a billion. So he thinks when he lays it all out for her like: ‘How about instead of being lame, you do something fun! And crush whoever you want in the process!’. He thinks that’s gonna go over. And he’s not wrong in seeing that side in Mabel but Mabel is a better person than Bill Cipher.”

as well as this bit from "Dipper's and Mabel's Guide to Mystery and Nonstop Fun" written by Bill:

Both which pretty much confirm that Bill likes Mabel and assumes they're alike based on a couple similarities, which adds up when you look at how he treats and interacts with Mabel in the show but let's not derail.

The point I'm trying to make here is that if Bill can get attached and relate to a twelve year old he's known for half a summer, it's pretty easy to imagine he probably feels similarly about a guy he's known for thirty years and is the character who by far has the strongest connection to Bill.

Of course for Bill to relate to Ford there has to be some similarity in the first place. And there are! You could compare Ford's willingness to build an interdimensional portal to gain knowledge and admiration to Bill's desire to reach beyond his own two-dimensional world and eventual attain of knowledge and power.

Of course, Ford isn't the first person to attempt to build a portal for Bill. But the similarities run deeper than that.

So you know how Ford's been ostracized for all his life and leaned into trying to be outstanding and special which was encouraged and made worse by Bill?

Because Bill namedrops the author of Flatland in the Bill Cipher AMA when asked about his birth dimension.

and on top of that, in Journal 3 Ford describes a dimension called Exwhylia which references Flatland and suggests Bill could have come from a similar dimension.

To keep it short for those unfamiliar, Flatland is a book about a place of that same name and describes it as a plane where three-dimensionality is incomprehensible, only the heads of society are allowed to know about other dimensions, the social system depends on a strict hierarchy, everything that risks deviating from the norm is shut down, may be worth mentioning here that triangles are near the bottom of the hierarchy too.

Yeah I don't think I need to really explain that Bill would absolutely hate it here and it's really jarring how much this place clashes with him.

Anyway do you see where I'm going with this? Bill probably being shunned by his world and Ford's whole deal?

About the leaning into being special thing, Flatland people are really just. people but shapes. So to me it implies Bill didn't always have his powers (on top of him literally saying "I wasn't always this way" in Weird 3 while talking about his newly gained powers and before talking about his old dimension). Can you imagine how much gaining those brought out the worst in him? I think he was already self-centered before but now he has more reason to see himself above others.

Now obviously, Bill just claimed Ford was special and called him his friend as a manipulation tactic, but it's significant to remember that we're talking about the guy who said this:

and is pretty much confirmed to apply this mindset to himself:

I think that while yes, Ford and Bill's friendship started out as nothing but manipulation on Bill's part, he really grew attached to the guy based on what they had in common.

Unfortunately, Bill does the same mistake with Ford as he does with Mabel and assumed he's more like him than he really is. I mean,

Bill wrote this into the Journal during Ford's paranoid era. And I don't think he's just rambling because he says "don't you understand" and "I ask you" which very much sounds like he's trying to be convincing.

Anyway, yeah I think this scene from Weirdmageddon 1 was really another genuine offer, rather than just plain and simply Bill mocking Ford.

Also Weirdmageddon 2 pretty much proves to me that Bill does see Ford as special. Just look at how he's always carrying golden Ford around in contrast to all the stone-turned townsfolk being built into his throne. Literally special treatment! In a bad messed up way.

Also a big fan of this episode showing that Bill does not care about the well-being of his so-called friends (which is even more outright in the uncut storyboard version of this scene)

really cementing the fact that not only does Bill see himself above mortals, but above everyone and really the only apparent reason they are friends is because they support Bill and he thinks they're fun.

So yeah it is absolutely possible for Bill to regard Ford on a similar level as them, maybe even above them. Finally, let's talk about the penthouse scene because I have a lot of feelings about that one.

After attempting to charm Ford, Bill's first move in trying to negotiate is talking about his old dimension and how restricting and narrow-minded it was. Already brought this scene up earlier but honestly the fact that he just drops that on Ford is wild to me.

Like, this is the same guy who, according to the Axolotl, yearns for his old dimension but denies to himself that he deeply regrets destroying it. Bill hates showing vulnerability. He hates even acknowledging it. He only cares for vulnerability if it comes from other people for him to exploit!

So him telling Ford that his dimension was awful and he was genuinely miserable there is huge. Not just him telling Ford that, but also just the expression? The tone? This is the most sincere Bill has ever been throughout the show and possibly the most sincere he's been in decades, centuries, millennia, God knows. Even if it's still filtered through a lie he's been telling himself for most of his life.

And yeah obviously, Bill was desperate and needed Ford to help him at this point but I think it would've been "easier" for Bill to just. Maybe try and solve the barrier problem himself. Ford figured it out, so surely Bill can at least try instead of, Idk, laying his heart out to the person who has dedicated his life to killing him.

I think Bill tried to make Ford relate to him in this scene for the sake of getting him to join but also maybe, just maybe, Bill craved connection? Dude's a lot more sentimental than he seems and lets on and spending an eternity only befriending people who you'll put below yourself after killing everyone you've ever known has got to get lonely.

Not that I think Bill truly saw ford as an equal, Absolutely Not, but I think Bill saw in Ford someone who could understand him. Someone who, at least for a short time, just simply enjoyed and appreciated his company as a friend. Maybe even a more naive version of Bill himself who hasn't yet realized what's good for him, which is really ironic because Ford is the one ended up stirring his life into a positive direction where he can be truly happy again, while Bill revels in his own misery.

Well. So much about this eleven second long scene I think about way too hard 👍

Bill then goes into his whole tangent about just trying to free the dimension of restrictions and making it into a fun and better world which is reflected in the Journal 3 messages from earlier and ends up on this:

Because this is what Bill believes to be Ford's ideal. He wants knowledge and admiration? Why here you go! Surely there's no reason Ford wouldn't agree to helping Bill now, right?? He's offering him everything he could ever want! He'd be part of his group! Everyone gets what they want!

And again, yeah Bill could've just made things up and immediately tossed Ford to the side as soon as he would've given him the equation to break the barrier, but that little scene where he talks to Ford about his old home dimension just. Really drives it home for me that he does in some way truly sees Ford as his friend. Y'know, on top of literally everything else I talked about here.

EDIT: Like the fool I am, I forgot to bring up a point about Bill keeping Ford alive during Weirdmageddon despite Ford posing a huge threat to him which is odd but uuh just read this, it pretty much covers it.

#oops its just another post about how the triangle has issues #gf #bill tag #ford tag #do i put this in the tags. sure why not #gravity falls #bill cipher

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jackoshadows · 6 months

Text

I end up writing a lot about Jon Snow and Arya Stark because their relationship is indeed special in the world of Asoiaf.

However, in terms of siblings bonds, love and friendship, Jon is also incredibly close to Robb. As Jon puts it, his best friend and rival and constant companion. And even just reading Jon's memories of Robb and their interactions before he leaves for the Wall is just some of the emotionally heavy moments in Jon's POV chapters. He thinks of Robb more than even Arya. When he says farewell to his best friend Samwell in book 5, it's Robb that he remembers. If we look at mentions of the Stark siblings in Jon's POV chapters:

I know GRRM has mentioned he regrets not giving Robb a POV and I have to agree because I would have loved to burrow into his thoughts on everything.

It's clear from the text, IMO, that Robb understands and empathizes with Jon being a bastard where Arya (and Bran) are too young for the same. When Robb is a little kid he doesn't get it - the same way Arya and Bran don't get it when we meet them at the start of AGoT. We have Jon's own memories of him and Robb playing and Robb declaring that Jon can never be Lord of Winterfell because he's a bastard.

An older Robb, however, keenly empathizes with Jon. I imagine it can't have been easy to accept that he was destined to be a Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North while the half brother who grew up side by side with him had no proper future planned out for him. It would not have been easy for him to see Jon seated separately or not allowed in the training ground with a prince. He would have sensed Jon feeling ostracized and bitter and understood the cause for it.

Robb would have understood that Jon had nowhere else to go when Jon chose the Wall. That with Ned and the other adults not offering other options for Jon, the Wall was a chance for Jon to be a ranger like their uncle Benjen.

It can even be argued that Robb marrying Jeyne after she 'comforted' him was so as to not do what his father did. We see Jon wrestle with the same dilemma with Ygritte, determined not to be like his father and avowing sex so as not to have a bastard.

He seemed to have trouble saying his brothers' names. "That night, she . . . she comforted me, Mother." Catelyn did not need to be told what sort of comfort Jeyne Westerling had offered her son. "And you wed her the next day." He looked her in the eyes, proud and miserable all at once. "It was the only honorable thing to do. She's gentle and sweet, Mother, she will make me a good wife." - Catelyn, ACoK

The little bit where Robb and Jon say farewell is so loaded with both of them leaving things unsaid but understanding what was left unsaid at the same time.

In fact all of Jon's farewells - with Bran, Robb and Arya in that order - establishes the kind of relationships he has with the 3 of them in increasing order of importance. Robb and Jon's conversation in particular, demonstrates their maturity, understanding and love, and touches on a shared sense of empathy between them.

"You Starks are hard to kill," Jon agreed. His voice was flat and tired. The visit had taken all the strength from him. Robb knew something was wrong. "My mother …" "She was … very kind," Jon told him. - Jon, AGoT

Without Jon saying anything, Robb senses an emotionally heavy interaction with Catelyn. This speaks to Robb knowing how Catelyn has previously treated Jon and Jon's own response to that.

In the same vein, Jon, not wanting to hurt Robb while saying goodbye, assures Robb that Catelyn was 'kind'. That's Jon acknowledging Robb's love for his mother even as he himself hates her.

Robb looked relieved. "Good." He smiled. "The next time I see you, you'll be all in black." Jon forced himself to smile back. "It was always my color. How long do you think it will be?" "Soon enough," Robb promised. He pulled Jon to him and embraced him fiercely. "Farewell, Snow." Jon hugged him back. "And you, Stark. Take care of Bran." - Jon, AGoT

They just love each other so much.

It also speaks so much to their bond that Jon was ready to risk desertion to help Robb in his war and begs for Robb's forgiveness when he then ultimately decides to stay at the Wall and Robb declaring - despite opposition from his mother and Theon's betrayal - that Jon will be his heir, Lord of Winterfell and King in the North, looking past prejudice and bigotry

And that's the beauty of their bond, where Jon when considering Stannis' offer of Winterfell, recalls Robb's hurtful words and is so emotionally distraught that he blacks out in fury.

“You can’t be Lord of Winterfell, you’re bastard-born. My lady mother says you can’t ever be the Lord of Winterfell.” - Robb

When all the while this was what Robb was saying about the brother he loved.

“Should I die without issue, I want him to succeed me as King in the North.” - Robb

This is why Robb Stark's last decree is important. For closure for the Jon/Robb relationship and Jon's own conflicted feelings about accepting Stannis' offer of Winterfell. To know how much Robb loved him and accepted him as a brother. That it was not all one sided - that just as Jon wanted to desert to help his brother, Robb was declaring Jon his heir and Lord of Winterfell. The decree speaks to that bond of brotherhood, trust, loyalty and love.

Jon refuses Stannis's offer because of preconditions like burning the Winterfell Godswood - the Old Gods of the North - and his guilt of taking what was Robb's. With Robb's decree there are no such preconditions and it affirms Robb's trust in him to do what's right.

And I hope some day GRRM finishes TWoW and we get to read Jon Snow's reaction to getting that final decree and knowing that Robb did indeed think Jon would be Lord of Winterfell.

#Robb Stark #Jon Snow #ASoIaF

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inkblot-inc · 7 months

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A Simple Meet-Cute

Summary: A slow night at your job picks up with the presence of a certain woman in red, this meeting also serves as the precedent for your life-course to shift...

Pairing: ???Wanda Maximoff x Hyena!Mutant!Reader

[S.S AU Masterlist]

Warning(s): Dark Themes; there's no smut in this one, but this is an 18+ AU aka MINORS DNI. To start we got depictions of breaking bones (not in depth, but it’s there, suggestion of murder, mention of mutant trafficking (did I really go back there again? Yeah, but this time with a dash of discrimination toward mutants), let’s see… language and general violence, cuz hey, you know what I get up to...kinda-

Note(s): This timeline-wise is way before "The Bigger Picture". I figure after I had my medias res moment, I wanted to go ahead double back to show how Wanda and R met. Were they done around the same time? Yes….And your point? I'll also go ahead and say that they're both a part of the Scarlet Syndicate AU. The masterlist should be up pretty soon, and I hope you enjoy this one :3

Word Count: in the realm of 1.8k

*squints* I give NO ONE permission to repost or translate my work. Make your own shit!

Mutants. The next evolution in human genetics can manifest at any time and take many forms. Some develop their mutations when they're in the throes of puberty or while in adolescence. Others have had their mutation since they were born or haven’t had them appear until they’ve gone into adulthood.

In this world, humans far outnumber mutants in population, and people are more content to ostracize those who are mutants, as man has well been known to fear and even hate what they do not understand...

“Table seven is clear, hon,” You turned to see Miss Monica pointing to the back area. Nodding, you grabbed your rag and made your way to the newly unoccupied table littered with pools of water left by sweating drinks and crumpled napkins.

It was only maybe a quarter past eight, but the bar was already running thin with patrons. The quieter hum of voices compared to the usual clambering of laughter and muddled conversation clued you in to the change easily. As you cleaned, you caught a glimpse of the designated VIP section of The Photon Call. There you saw a small group that had been there for at least two hours now.

The woman at the head of the table was dressed in a form-fitting burgundy suit paired with a glossy black heel, blacked out sunglasses framing her face. A muted fruity smell with a hint of something else followed her stride. She came in with two men and another woman, who were all dressed formally. Monica merely nodded toward the woman when they came in before she had Jimmy lead them to the VIP area.

Looking at the group now, you noticed their “leader” of sorts had now taken off her sunglasses, moving some of her auburn hair out of her face. Her green eyes were just visible in the lower light. They had an extra person with them who was sitting across from the woman dressed in deep red. This man you remembered from a short time ago. he came in some time after the group he was now seated with. he was a bit of a crude figure, and he’d been rather transparent about his distaste toward you, his nose turned up at your short tail and pronounced ears as you directed him to the VIP area. You’d been privy to a few choice words muttered under his breath as well.

There was a light sheen on his forehead now that there wasn’t before, now that they'd all finished eating. His scent was more pungent as well; he’s nervous now, and a bit fearful. Though his posture is upright, there was a stiffness to his movements when he was speaking. It was a stark contrast to the others sitting at the table who remained confident and relaxed, though you noticed the growing boredom and aggravation from the head lady as she swirled the drink in her glass lazily.

When the gray-haired man finished speaking, the woman across from him simply raised a brow and checked the watch on her wrist. The other woman in the seat next to her, who was also a redhead, shifted in her seat. Her aggravation had been there since he’d started talking.

The leading woman set her glass down lightly, “Your offer has already been considered and denied, Hayward. I have other matters to attend to, so I believe we’re done here.”

The bluntness and brevity of her statement noticeably took the man aback as he floundered for his words. “B-but you have to understand, Wanda! This is for the benefit of the company-”

“What I understand is you can’t take a hint, Tyler. You call me out past my business hours, which should be well known to you, to propose an increase in mutant laborers as a ludicrous idea to increase production rates for my company. You also know my stance on such practices, which is why I’m left confused as to why you thought I would agree to it to begin with. I wonder if you’re having a gargantuan lapse in judgment, or if you’re really at the meeting point where bold meets stupid.”

The woman, Wanda, remained unflinching as the older man, Hayward, abruptly got up from his seat in outrage. Your hand slowed wiping down the booth seats as you noticed a spike in anger and resentment along with a feeling you’ve come to recognize as violent intent. The other redheaded woman shifted forward a bit, probably as a natural response. Hayward’s back was to you, and he garnered a lot of attention all on his own, so no one really noticed you move closer behind him.

“You don’t think you’ll defer to me? With one call my associates and I make motion to flip your company around on you so fast it'd make your head spin. So, I'll tell you what, you little bitch-”

It was when he went to move and touch Wanda that you restrained the man, your rag wrapped around his wrists and his arms behind his back. His right arm was now bent in a weird way, the connected shoulder probably came out of its socket, but that didn’t make you stop. All the while, Wanda and the people with her remained calm, if a bit surprised.

Wanda raised a brow at the actions of this new person restraining one Tyler Hayward. Now, Natasha warned her that her own senses were going off due to Hayward’s visible increase in anger, and she didn’t need to read the man’s mind to confirm it. Had he gotten anywhere close to harming her or was even capable of it, she would have ended him not even with a flick of her wrist.

But now she’s simply watching you effectively take the unsuspecting man to the floor, both of his arms were bent oddly and essentially broken at this point. A twisted growl streamed out of your mouth with sporadic hiccups here and there. Hayward continued to hurl threats at you as you kept your knees on the backs of his thighs, keeping him from moving.

Nothing seems to register as you simply looked up at Wanda and those with her, eyes shifting between each of them to make sure they weren't disturbed. You kept Hayward’s broken arms locked behind his back with one hand, reaching around and forcefully gripping his face with the other; shutting him up for the most part. You hunched over Hayward’s shoulder and turned his head to face you with your eyes meeting his, your eyes now giving off a dull orange glow.

Followed by what might be considered a misplaced giggle passing your lips, Wanda watched as Hayward seemed to fold in on himself. His thrashing to retaliate turned into a struggle to seemingly just get away from your gaze.

"Done yet?" Your voice came out low and close to his ear, and you heard his heart rate pick up further as your hand clenched harder in his hair.

‘Please, please, please! I don’t want to be here! I have to get out, dammit!’

It was odd for all of them to see this sudden change in attitude, no doubt caused by the mutant busboy who still had yet to say a word to them directly.

You looked up to see Wanda and those with her rising from their seats, the two men moving toward your form still holding Hayward to the floor. The old man was basically blubbering at this point, almost incoherent due to his erratic breathing.

“I believe Sam and Bucky can handle things from here. Do you mind?” Wanda’s voice was even as she spoke to you. You moved off of Hayward’s body and out of the way for, who you now know as Sam and Bucky, to heave him off of the ground. “Take him out back boys. We’ll let Monica know on our way out, give her a heads up before we send in the sweepers.” Her gaze settled on you as you stood up from the floor. You felt a spike of curiosity coming from the woman left with her that only persisted when Wanda stepped closer to you.

Wanda eyed you up and down as your eyes shone back at her. “I’d like to thank you for your assistance, regardless of the necessity. I don’t think I’ve seen you work at Monica's bar before,”

You gave a single nod, “I’m new.” Your voice was gravelly and clipped, Wanda noticing that there was noticeable scarring around your throat that would lead one to assume you sustained an injury of some kind.

Looking into your mind was its own venture. Your immediate memories were a mirror of the events that transpired, the people talking in them making unintelligible noises, not unlike the adults in Peanuts cartoons.

The further back Wanda looked, the fuzzier they got, like the hippocampus was affected directly. There were some that were clear as day: The day your father traded you to the prime minister of Niganda for his own freedom. Your first days under a “Dr. Paine” and your short-lived freedom after the lab was taken down. Some of your time in mutant trafficking including a few of the “masters'' who had you. A clear recollection of the man who had your vocal cords clipped for being mouthier than he’d like. The day you escaped, and finally to the day Monica found you wandering Mutant Town before hiring you here about a month ago.

These "core memories" were on a subconscious and grating loop in your mind so that you couldn't forget them. Everything else in between was basically lost as it was like trying to look through frosted glass. There was little direction and purpose other than surviving to the next day.

Equal parts distressing and intriguing to say the least…

As Wanda spent the last minute or so staring you down, your focus shifted to the woman behind Wanda. You didn’t catch her name, but you know she was a mutant based off of the distinct sweet smell complimenting her rainwater and pine trail.

They’re obviously close; she hasn’t stepped away from Wanda’s side once. Not too many humans would willingly put themselves in the company of mutants. Guess you can count this Wanda woman among those in the minority along with a few others like your boss.

When Wanda comes back to the present, she stares at you with a new light in her eyes as they dipped down to your nametag. “I like you, Y/n. I have a feeling we’ll be seeing more of each other.” She rested a hand on your shoulder and suddenly you smelled a change in her scent- no, it became clearer.

Wanda’s scent was a sugar-coated apricot with a spike of cinnamon as it accented the air around her, then it hit you:

Wanda is also a mutant.

And somehow you knew you’d remember her for the long haul.

#marvel #marvel one shots #a simple meet-cute #scarlet witch #wanda maximoff #???wanda maximoff #hyena!mutant!reader #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x yn #scarlet syndicate au #jc inkworks #ink.wanda #ib-jc.

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puella-1n-somn10 · 5 months

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⚔️Puella Magi Madoka Magica x Pokemon Sword/Shield: Hop and his Witch Form⚔️

Word count w/o intro: 11,703

Look, I know that the Traveler from Genshin won that poll, but...if I may be honest, I am not ready for what concept I had for them to completely topple apart all thanks to a single shred of lore being aimed at my head at mach speed. Trust me, fellas, I saw the roller coaster that is the Fontaine chapter; if shit is that crazy while we are halfway through the main story, then I dread the revelations that will befall us all when SNEZHNAYA rolls around-!

With all that being said...welcome back, ladies, gents, and those who have casted the dreaded concept of gender out of their lives! For those who are unaware, we are here today to witness what would happen if I were to take the worldbuilding of Puella Magi Madoka Magica and apply them to other media. Today's unfortunate guest for today is none other than the goat himself, Hop!

...Not funny? Ah, alright-

Yes, I am aware that Hop's reputation amongst the fanbase is...controversial at best. Generally speaking, I've noticed that the negative image of this character was formed by the fans prematurely judging him based on his initial lines of dialogue, passionate (which is often mischaracterized as cheerful) attitude, and, I shit you all not, animations (which is more of a fault caused by tight release schedules and the developers being rushed than that of the character himself). From these alone, he tends to be placed on tiers lower than the fucking Gen 6 rivals (no hate towards them, promise, I just wish they were fleshed out more)- which proves to me that not only are those types of Pokemon fans purely visual beings, but that media literacy is dead, rotting, and its tombstone has been Hyper Beamed to Hell and back-

BUT we're not here to rant now, aren't we? My...personal, burning distaste towards those who call him a Hau clone aside, we are here to dissect his character- in more literal ways than one! If I may be honest, this analysis post thinly disguised as a silly, crossover ficlet was created as a thought and writing exercise for myself, and it was quite fun, if I must admit! So I hope from the bottom of my heart that you guys find as much joy in Hop's pain and suffering as I did while writing it!

Just a few quick warnings, this post will contain mentions of child neglect and favoritism, implications of social ostracization and public shaming, and, I cannot stress this enough, mentions of self destruction/S-H/su-c-de. If any of these themes are too triggering, especially that last one, please, please click away! I am being serious here- take the utmost care, and be safe!

Of course, spoilers for Madoka Magica, Magia Record (Anime ver.), and Pokemon SWSH are right up ahead! If I may be honest, I haven't touched upon the DLCs yet, so spoilers regarding them will be minimal at most. There will also be shades of PostwickShipping (Hop <3 Gloria) present, so if that isn't your cup of tea, I sincerely apologize.

It would also be fitting to play some Decretum on the side, too, especially when we get to the despair bit- God damn, he and Sayaka need to be buddies.

-The Wish, Possible Powers, and Soul Gem-

"Before we ever started out on this journey… I remember watching Lee on the telly. He was like a bright star, so strong I could hardly bear to look right at him. But now, I can tell just how strong he really is… And what he's got that I haven't…"

Now, I could go the easy way and say that he'd wish to be as great as Leon- to become as strong as the champion and equally undefeatable, but, honestly, not only does this feel cheap, it feels so...unlike Hop as a character. He doesn't just want to defeat Leon- he wants to prove his worth and make his mark as a trainer. Hop, like the rest of Galar, idolizes his brother- so much so that he copied his strategies and every move; a mistake that had gotten him to lose the fight in the Circhester stadium even after facing off against so many trials and tribulations-

After all, as Bede said it in his own...brutish way, if people looked down on Hop, they will do the same to Leon - the man who Hop looks up to as not just an older sibling, but as a symbol- as an unshakable LEGEND, and not just as a human being -. So if the perception of the man who Hop saw as a hero was to shake all thanks to him...it'd be quite devastating, to say the least. It was this possibility that hit him the most- where his worth and identity came into question.

Hop may dislike losing - a sentiment that grows stronger every time you defeat him -, but what he fears even more is disappointing others; lowering his and his brother's worth in their eyes. He wanted to be number #1 because it was expected of him to do so, by himself, by the public, and, when you think about it, even by his family - whether consciously or not -...

After all, just look at his home- do you see any pictures of Hop around? Left and right you find memorabilia and trophies belonging to Leon, but how much mementos of Hop can you find? Whether or not he was aware of it, Hop craved not just the glory of his brother, but also the validation and positive attention.

This was his path in life- no, this was his destiny, as he'd put it; to become as strong as his hero and receive that blazing torch after living in his shadow for so long. To live up to his splendor, to inspire others to get up and take a stance, and to make something out of himself. His brother was a hero- so it makes sense to imitate someone as amazing and strong as him.

So, after analyzing his character for a bit, his wish could go along the lines of wanting to be by his brother's side, or, more appropriately, to make an impact on the world and the lives of others like he did. After all, we are assuming that he made the contract a bit before his constant losses began to fuck with him; he had confidence in his abilities at least during the beginning, and was certain that he was going to emerge from the final battle victorious.

The powers resulting from this wish could go in a lot of different ways; after all, wishing to make an impact is quite abstract. It isn't like he wished for someone else to get healed or to win on a lottery; so trying to make powers based on that would be tricky. My best guess is that his powers are associated with memories and legacies, which, once more, also fits in really well with how he documented and tried to mimic Leon's strategies and actions.

Now, before we focus on his soul gem and witness it crumble along with his self-esteem, we're going to take a good look at his attire upon transformation into his Magical Boy form- an aspect that, regrettably, I've forgotten to cover back while I was analyzing Medic. Now, this part may be a little unclear to some upon first reviewing the designs present in PMMM, but a pattern is there- and one of the most common reasons behind a magi's design is the intent behind their wish and their desires before or after taking on the contract. In order to prove my point, I'm gonna list some examples:

Sayaka Miki is a knight in shining armor; she wanted to uphold the ideal of a magical girl and fight for what's right

Homura Akemi's outfit is rather...funerary, for lack of a better term; she made her wish as result of her losing Madoka, and had more or less doomed herself to watching the demise of her beloved over and over again

Nagisa's outfit looks like an everyday, ordinary outfit for someone her age; she craved a normal life where she was able to be just like the other kids around her- not having to worry about living in a dump and caring for an unstable parent

Iroha's design invokes the idea of a ranger or even a mercenary; she is dedicated to finding her sister at what cost, even if most of the evidence (or lack there-of) pointed towards Ui not existing in the first place

Being in the spotlight of someone else's life, looking up to his brother, and making said champion an example on how he should lead his life...I think a stereotypical, legendary hero might do it; the main protagonist of tales like Beowulf or even your everyday JRPGs. Hop often made references to him 'weaving his own legend', so this would make perfect sense!

Speaking of-

Regarding his soul gem's shape, simple- upon transformation, it would look just like a small flame placed on his solar plexus like a brooch or button. Comparisons to Leon's charizard aside, it is a simple and straightforward symbol representing his personality; passionate, competitive, hot-headed, and bright- but all flames are prone to dying out one way or another. Hop's association with fire is also presented to us in-canon in his second league card, with him pulling off Leon's signature pose as flames wildly danced around him.

This also brings the idea of him burning himself away to fit into his ideal of a champion to mind, or literally burning himself out. A raging fire ready to render all that is in its path into ash- including himself.

The emblem on the middle of its egg form is a little harder for me to interpret fully. I could go with the easy way and say that it's probably the same as its form upon his Puer Magi transformation, but we all know that my perfectionist ass would not just simply settle with that. The options on our hands are as follows;

The easy option, the Hop flower (symbolizing how becoming a professor is his true calling in life)

A coat of arms (royalty themes- also, a pun on Eternatus' eternamax form, coat of ARMS, heheh)

A spiral (symbol of futility, continuation, cycles, and a downward spiral)

A coat of arms WITH a spiral in the middle (look at the above two points)

A flag (him wishing to create his own legend, and how he was initially a foot ahead of us during the start of our journey together)

A windmill (...we'll get to that, but let's assume it's because of Postwick for now- I personally prefer this one)

A shield with two crossed swords (again, royalty and hero themes)

As for its color, here is where things get interesting; I already spoke about how most soul gems correspond with the eye color of their respective magi, since "eyes are the windows to a person's soul", so a brilliant gold would fit both with this unwritten rule and thematically. However, then I got thinking- Red is also an applicable color, right? It fits his personality, and would clash really well with the cool purples and blues...until I realized that not only is red already going to be present as a sort of secondary (if not primary) color to go along with the existing cool palette in mind, but the added gold highlights would embolden it and make sure this design really pops.

Besides, making red a central color for his magi outfit also adds in to the idea of him still mimicking Leon, whose associated colors are purple, gold, and, of course, the reds of his cape! We aren't completely sure as to how much control a magi has over the outfit they'll don upon transformation, but we do know that Madoka actually designed her own magical clothing, so some input from the magi themselves, whether consciously or not, does contribute to the matter. This would also make a cute little homage to his champion outfit in Pokemon Masters EX!

One last point before we get to the part you've all been waiting for, we have to look at his weapon; yes, his powers are probably associated with memories or even perception, but, according to my research, one's weapon doesn't necessarily have to be tied to the wish. As a matter of fact, aside from Mami's ribbons (symbolizing her being tied to the life of a magical girl and her capturing others in this web of malice whether consciously or not- a literal lifeline), most of the cast's weapons are unrelated to the wishes made, and, like the aforementioned outfits, are more tied to the magi's intents or even personalities;

Nagisa's is a trumpet that blows out bubbles. She wanted her mother to hear her, but she's only ever able to let out little squeaks; the dichotomy between her desire to be acknowledged and wanting to be a decent daughter to a horrible person like her mother.

Homura's is a shield; she wishes to protect Madoka, but a shield alone cannot deflect everything threatening her sweet rose. There's also the symbolism of her hiding behind a shield, both as Moemura (shy and reserved) and Cool Homu (covering her emotions with an aloof exterior); in both cases, she's hiding herself away from the world.

Sayaka's is a cutlass sword. Go figure.

I am not completely sure on Madoka's; she dislikes brutal fighting, so it would make sense for her to use a long-range weapon that she's able to use to snipe enemies from a safe-enough distance. I also heard that a bow and arrow have some sort of significance in Christian lore, but, to be frank, I am not completely sure about this; this section requires further study.

Again, I gotta thank @bluethepearldiver for saving my butt here and on the upcoming natures section! According to them, since I had already removed swords and shields from the equation in order to make space for both Gloria and Victor, a polearm type of weapon would fit him the most! In their own, brilliant words, it is "representing how unattainable his goal ultimately is", and, in my opinion, it is a mid-range weapon- when utilized correctly, Hop would be able to conquer battles that would require either long or short ranged attacks to clear! Also, personally, it brings the image of a sheep herder to mind.

As for the specific type of polearm, that one would require a lot more creativity, but, since Hop comes from Postwick, a weapon that originates from Europe would be fitting. After thinking about it, I believe his weapon is probably a Halberd, due to how it can pierce, chop, or slash depending on the situation. It would also symbolize poor, bright-eyed Hop constantly changing his strategies and teams in order to catch up to us- to finally match us in strength. Every time we met him, he would have different strategies, a different team, a different outlook- he tried every viable, effective strategy, tearing apart the aspects of himself that were deemed roadblocks, pushing himself until he was burning himself way too brightly for his own good, yet...

-Descent Into Despair-

He lost. He had lost yet again, hasn't he?

His grip on the pokeball was shaky. The eyes of the crowd fixated on him as the last of his pokemon fell to the ground. Frozen air filled his lungs; his eyes felt like they were turned to stone, as did the veins in his arms.

The whispers grew louder; the crowd's collective judgement was being passed from one attendant to another. His teeth were about to shatter from the pressure around him alone. Not even Melony's concerns were registered on his mind; all the words around him amalgamated into a brute cacophony that choked all the will and rationality out of him.

His heart was on fire. His lips were dried as he stared at the nothingness before him. It was so hard to continue standing up- fucking impossible to focus on anything but this blunder forged by his own hands- which he now sees as nothing but useless vestiges. His heart was a war drum in the midst of conflict; beating as though the drummer's life was on the line if they were to dare and drop the pace. How he wanted to gouge his own eyes out and rip those ears out...

"Pitiful."

What on Earth was he missing?

He tried to change his strategies, he really did. The sad look on his pokemon’s eyes broke him every time, but they just couldn’t be of good help…he had to be a better trainer.

That’s what good trainers do, right? They make sure their teams were optimal. After all, strategy came first; that was what he learned from all these battles that long moved his heart.

"Foolish."

Another loss.

He looked down at his final, fallen comrade, not taking his shaking hands into account. Was it the cold? The stress? The sheer disbelief of what was before him?

Or was it frustration? A poison seeping between his clenched teeth- ready to curse out himself and direct his anger to the world? Readying him to pound against the earth beneath him until his knuckles were mangled and bloody?

No...no, this can't be it. He had to push himself further- he had to be better. Not a single Pokemon of his would listen to someone as fragile as he was; he had to make an example out of himself if he had to be a strong leader- a hero to them...

"Hypocrite."

Wooloo...

You promised, didn't you?

He stifled his own sobs. Oh, how could you have done this to them, Hop? They were the closest thing you had to a childhood friend! They were right by your side to the very end! All you had to do was to keep their head up, tell them it wasn't their fault, and that you would still enter the league together if you both focused! All you had to do was stay strong-

But you couldn't. You just had to up and leave them; cast them to the dirt where you dragged his good name through.

In the end, he couldn't even uphold that.

"Pathetic."

Over and over...over and over, he had repeated this fruitless, pitiful endeavor- all to no avail.

Finding himself floating adrift, Hop feels as though his very existence was slowly slipping from his fingers; becoming one with the very void surrounding him. He couldn't even feel his limbs, much less his face.

No matter how much he had stretched himself so thin, it just wouldn't work. The evidence was there before him, for all of Galar to see- his true rival and his brother on that field together, the latter holding the other's hand and raising it up in the air...that no matter what he did, all the sacrifices he had made, it was all up there in the air like smoke. His dreams, hopes, and ambitions- gone with what shine in his eyes that were left.

Oh, little sheep...do you not realize that you have tangled yourself within this spider web- the very definition of insanity?

"Worthless."

He's tired.

With each loss, it got a lot harder for him to get up and walk away.

His legs were shaking, and not just due to the harsh winds around him. The winds were picking up their pace, but the eyes, the eyes, the eyes-

Why must you insist on further embarrassing yourself, young man? Can't you tell when it's the time for you to just drop everything and move on with something better for everyone else's sake?

You're just embarrassing yourself at this point- nothing more than a clown attracting disrespect and shame like flies to a rotting carcass much like yourself.

...

Yeah...

What if...it was him?

He couldn't take the watchful gazes of the crowded streets anymore. Oh, how he wanted to hide away in the corners of the world- render his own face into nothing but a crimson pulp just so their judgemental glares, mocking smiles, and whispers would finally leave him alone and hollow.

His heart was racing- his veins were on fire, and his arms were about to burst.

It was too much... Upon stumbling upon a silent, empty, dirty alleyway, he slumped onto his knees as he shook from both the cold and pressure of all the bottled up frustrations in him. At long last, the waterworks finally broke out. Only the night sky and howling winds were his current company; doing little to distract him from his pained heartbeats and dried up throat.

He couldn't hold on to his victories, no matter how feeble or small. It didn't matter what he did or how much he tried, all that he's tried holding on to will just slip away from his fingers, like the breaths of fresh, cold air escaping him; inhaling just enough as to not allow him to pass out on the spot, but it was only that much.

The sound of metal clanging on the ground escaped his ears. It was only when he was finally slumped on the ground that he had noticed the fading luminescence just before his reach. Even as his body shook from the mental strain and the cold, he still recognized the jewel that was on the dirtied ground. Hands shaking, he slowly picked up the once brilliant object...

Through jittering teeth, he just couldn't help but sob whilst instinctively smiling; the sound coming out like a sort of soft giggle...

Hahahah...oh, don't tell him- don't tell him he couldn't...

What a mockery- look at him, everyone! Not only had he failed the challenges before him, but, oh, this poor damn pest- he couldn't even look after his own damn soul gem! The very thing he had traded away what was left of his identity outside of the league for- and even then, with his wish, it only made sure that his mistakes would return to him in even stronger, more merciless manners. Was it due to him being unable to focus on both perfecting his strategies and his duties as a puer magi?

For all Hop cared at that moment, it was just another sign of his pathetic, useless existence. Worthlessness- no, he was way beneath that; he had failed. He had failed, he had failed, he had failed, he lost, he had motherfucking lost.

Answer yourself this, Hop- Do tell how you expected to come so far like this! How you have managed to shamble and shuffle through the league challenge like the worm you are, with nothing but another's achievements to your name- and you couldn't even take good care of that!

"...Useless..."

Hop shakily breathed out.

"Hah...if only I wasn't born so useless..."

His grip on both sides of his head grew tighter. As he gritted his teeth and his eyes twitched, one last thought flashed in his mind-

"There's...nowhere left for me..."

"Everyone else is moving on without someone...some pest like I am..."

With all the air that was left in his lungs, Hop roared into the night and unleashed all the grief in his heart. His anguished wail was interrupted by a sudden crash, and all that was left were the howling, autumnal winds...

Word of the contestants' escalating behaviors grew amongst the people of Galar.

At first, it manifested as deepened anxieties; competitors being so overwhelmed by the upcoming events that it caused them to hyperventilate, shake uncontrollably in between sobs and unintelligible screams, or, at worst, completely melt down; faces reddened by tears as they were unable to remove themselves from the ground due to the paralyzing nervousness and hysteria. Initially, these incidents were brushed off as being related to the individuals' worries over the nature of the Gym Challenge, on top of the resulting trauma caused by the Darkest Day; even after the region was granted another chance at seeing the bright, blue skies, tensions were still at an all-time high, so, at the time, this appeared to have been the most rational conclusion.

It was when they've descended into thrashing bitterness and violence, however, that concern was finally demanded and raised- and, along with them, a whole basket of questions that craved all the answers in the world; anything to make sense of what was unraveling. Many a stadium had to close down - some even in the midst of these breakouts - for investigation purposes in order to get to the bottom of this anomaly.

Before long, rumors began to spread amongst the Galarian public- both on the streets and on social media; ranging from a contamination of sorts, to possible side effects of the Darkest Day that the current chairman was uninformed of. In the end, one by one, the majority of the gym leaders had to step forward admit that they knew as much as the rest did regarding the matter, but that did little to help stop the creation and spread of conspiracy theories, and they soon devolved into a competition of its own; on whose hypothesis is the most click-worthy and attention-grabbing.

Nothing was stacking up; everything had been tested - the water, the air, the soil, and especially the power spots -, the stadiums were inspected from top to bottom, and even the gym leaders were interviewed; it all came back negative.

The chairman himself had gone dark.

In the midst of the mass hysteria, right everyone's noses, the range of whatever was influencing these stadiums, the...being that has sending all these people into these frenzies...was growing.

Violent breakouts and missing persons reports spiked without ever showing a sign of slowing down. Nay, not even the gym leaders were spared- with Bea finally coming to her senses while Allister tried to subdue her and not hurt the rest around her, and Milo's herd of Wooloo going completely berserk and in complete panic not unlike the contestants and their own pokemon.

It was at its assumed worst when it had finally reached Postwick Town. Most of Galar had succumbed to what was engulfing it with its malice and twisted hopes, and, according to theorists, they doubted it would stop there. The people residing in the Isle of Armor and Crown Tundra were given the order to lock down and cease all functions until further information's released, in the vain hopes of preventing the spread of its influence.

And then-

Silence.

Everything around them was completely dim, with nothing but small flickers of flame and their own eyes' adaptation to help traverse them through what became of the region; a dim, cold land with ashy skies overhead, overrun with scared wildlife and...monsters- beasts you have never seen the likes of before. Perhaps staying still while you're able to recognize Galar while you could would be the wisest choice; stray far enough, and the world around you will fade, shift, and turn, until you find yourself not outdoors anymore, but in a dingy, suffocating hallway filled with cracks and little to no light-

and, soon enough, you will realize that you are not alone.

To the most fortunate (or unlucky, depending on the perspective), the sight of the missing people was there for them to see; lined up for their next battles and subsequent executions. Days of being trapped, fought, beaten up, and isolated in pain did a number on their psyches, and that is without mentioning the existing effects that have already engulfed Galar; plunging them into insanity.

By the braver and most informed few, most of the missing people have currently been accounted for- most, had it not been for the unfortunate casualties resulting from...all that has been unfolding around them, whether they were still yet to be found, were done in by beasts swarming through these twisting tunnels, condemned by whatever's waiting for them at the center of this cursed maze, or...just couldn't take it anymore, is still up in the air. Those whose statuses have not yet been confirmed included the younger brother of the former champion himself- who, quite possibly, may have been one of the earliest victims, if the timeline was to serve them right-

Oh, but if only they knew better- that the bright-eyed, enthusiastic Hop was right back to where it all started; watching the competition from atop the stage, waiting for the next match to begin. The empty husk that was once "Hop" was silent; slumped to the back to his seat with his dull, milky eyes staring into the distance, as the crowds roared once the hero and his new challenger entered the fray.

Yes...yes! Cheer for him! ONLY HIM!

Shaking from the cold and the tension of her surroundings, Gloria's attention darted from the armored monstrosity to her unconscious rival amongst the masses. His colors all but completely desaturated- it was nothing short of a miracle seeing his body still somewhat intact, though his sunken face and sloughing skin - some even falling as soon as she grabbed on to him; revealing pale bone -...without thinking, the armored girl screamed.

Contrasting Gloria's priority shifting from grabbing on to Hop's corpse and make a break for it to taking down that thing who must have caused it, Leon was...silent. His heart sank as he fell on his knees- his eyes shook as he fixated on the monster before them. His blood ran ice cold; it was so hard to breathe without sobbing...

Gloria and the gym leaders who have finally located the arena - those who have and haven't contracted - deemed that being a monster- Hop's God damned murderer, but Leon knew better.

The gold hues that were pooling from what's assumed to be the monster's eyes were unmistakable.

His own little brother was right before him, waiting to fight him in the middle of this arena-

Just like how he had promised- like how he had always wished for...

-The Witch's Nature-

Ah, the most unpredictable section of this post- the one where yours truly is expected to agonize and sob over all the options before me. Character complexities are complex! Multiple reasons behind despair! Oh, how is your truly ever going to choose the perfect nature for a warlock that would not only encompass the magi's goals and history with only a few words, but one that would also feel fitting for a spooky being like a witch?!

Welp- once more, I have thank Blue for their brilliant input once more! They've decided that his nature would be Admiration, and, honestly, it's genius! It not only fits his overall character, goals, and what caused his sanity to go downhill with the brakes cut off, but it has the right amount of dissonance that the witches of PMMM are known for! Again, this has been your reminder to support them- c'mon, chop chop, that's an order.

Of course, nothing wrong with mentioning all the other, though scrapped, natures. Again, you're all free to reinterpret the warlock to your hearts' content, and if you do have any other suggestion that would fit, please let me know! I not only want to understand Hop's character better, but I do wish to improve my character-deciphering and writing skills. Once more, I encourage all sorts of fair criticism heading my way, and, with all that being said, here's the losers' club:

Reflective

Smitten

Idolizing/Idolization

Competitive (decided that this one might fit Nemona better if I ever got into ScaVio and made a witch for her. Later. Inshallah.)

Self-abandonment (look at the above, but with Bede instead)

Self-immolation

Guilty

To yearn/Yearning (again, Nemona)

-The Witch's Appearance-

"It's not enough! I've got to try harder! And harder and harder till no one's laughing!"

Alright, first thing's first, before we dive into ANYTHING, we need to touch upon Hop's self-image and how it transforms through the course of the game. From the beginning, he is just so confident in his abilities and goals; it wasn't just a desire, it's a goal- he will beat Leon! He will become champion! One day, he's going to be on that stage; he WILL fight Leon, and he WILL beat him- just we wait!

And 'wait' we didn't.

For all his talk about creating his own legend, of taking up the mantle, we have done nothing but drag his face through the dirt without failure.

The more we beat that poor fella up, the more...desperate he became, and it gets cranked up to 11 once Bede humiliated him; calling him a waste of space, and that all he is doing is tainting his brother's legacy by trying, so it would be best for all parties involved he should just stop that. If he just stopped trying at all. If he just gave up at once. He still tries to maintain the spirit of friendly competition between the main character and himself, but the constant humiliation has been getting to him, and the talons that are digging in to his mind are sharp.

It is then that we finally realize that the once-confident trainer who initially accompanied us is no more. This hatred towards himself only grew with time, and, even when he had reintegrated Wooloo/Dubwool into his team, his self-worth was still nigh-non existent; he dared not accompany us during even the post-game story, believing that he would just be slowing us all down, and how we would fare and be better without someone like him around.

In Hop's eyes, he was a burden; a waste of space, and, no matter how much he tried to fight it, those words would persistently repeat in his mind. His constant defeats didn't help, either, whether it was by our or any other trainer's hands-

Hell, it can be argued that Hop's earlier confidence and passion were nothing but "fronts"; he had always cheered Leon on and idealized (dare I say even worshiped) him to no end, but, aside from the promise that he would, one day, defeat his brother and become a champion, what other positive things did he say about himself? What other dreams did he hold? He owed so much of his own knowledge about Pokemon battles to Leon, after all. This can be seen in the third episode of Pokemon: Twilight Wings, if we choose to interpret Wooloo's actions as reflective of Hop's- trying to be something it is not, and, ultimately, causing it to stray far from "home".

He wanted to be the hero of his own story. That's all he wished for. Instead, we've shoved him into the sidelines- face first on the dirt, without even realizing our strengths.

History repeats once more- the tale of Leon and Sonia all over again.

The image of a knight, a warrior, a hero is definitely a strong base to start it all off. The ideal knight in shining armor, he who stands up for everything right- the unbeatable champion of the people. Not just a person to look up to, but a symbol- that's all he wanted to become; just like how he saw his brother.

When he realized that his current tactics didn't work, everything had to go out the window. We aren't saying this lightly- everything. His plans, his . He had to change everything about himself- until he realized that the problem weren't his teams or his plans...it was him. It has always been his fault- he was just weak, nothing more than a pathetic worm.

The armor is scraping every fiber of his being. No matter what, he still cannot attain the strength and glory of a champion- so he has to keep doing this; break and melt himself. It isn't right, it hurts, but he deserves that pain- he deserves the agony and so much worse for the sin of his existence.

But it's not enough. It's not enough, and it will never be enough. Flaming hot, red daggers will forever pierce through his flesh and skin; melting and reshaping him not necessarily just to fit his desired goal, but as punishment.

It doesn't matter, though. It doesn't change his sheer, fucking incompetence. He'd bash himself against the wall, turn his knuckles bloody, and have his howls of torment be drowned out by his observers' whispers and harsh judgements, but it doesn't change the fact that he deserved every second of it. He had to keep molding himself, he had to suffer, he had to pay for being such a pest to everyone's lives and for being so weak...

No matter how much he tried, it doesn't change the truth that he is no damn hero; he is here as a prisoner, present to repent for his crimes of his pathetic existence...

Oh, yeah. Futility is not just a present theme, but we are running to the HILLS with it.

Next up, we look at his actions- the "spice" and depth this brings to his warlock's design.

Let's retrace our steps a bit and look at Hop's character before and after the main story; as soon as we boot up the game for the first time, there we see Hop being so excited over his brother finally coming home- he was practically shaking and jumping by the news of it alone! He just couldn't wait to see him again, much less what he must have brought back with him- and, when he laid his eyes on the starters and chose his, he was over the moon and the sun; this was the beginning of his legacy! Ah, even his own mother said that he had to learn some patience.

Compare and contrast to his attitude in postgame- he's a lot more mellowed out, but that can be better described as him finally being burnt out. He had nowhere to go, no goal to attain, and not a single strength to his name. Bede and Marnie are training to become gym leaders, Leon's the new chairman of the Galar league, Sonia is on the way to become the new regional professor, but Hop? There was nothing left for him. There isn't anything he was able to do that others could do even better- all that was left for him was to rot in the fields, forgotten and cast away like the object of shame he was.

"I don't know how much I can really help... If I come along, I might just end up slowing the rest of you down..."

I've already established how the warlock might be imprisoned in a sense; all to symbolize how he must have felt during his downfall and the lengths he went through in order to become someone worthy of becoming champion- of sharing his brother's legacy, but we should also take how he first started off into account. We already have the pain, but where is the tragedy in it all? The downfall of his confidence? The fall of Hop, the once bright-eyed, confident, and proud young man? How could we symbolize the face that we have flicked his passion and convictions away with the push of our buttons?

Passion...glory...destruction...hotheadedness...Lee...Charizard...

"Fire- and lots of it!"

Yeah, this should not come off as a surprise - given how I have already mentioned it dozens of times already -, but, hey, if Ophelia has a lot of flames in her design to symbolize the tragic end of her family and her own hotheadedness, then I can't see why the same cannot be applicable to our uncrowned prince of Galar. Truth be told, I think the fire is burning at him to this day; as I already mentioned, he is in a constant state of melting down and reshaping himself to no end to fit an ideal that is so far away from him, and what better way to do so than by forcing himself to endure these flames to no end- not just to burn away all his mistakes, but to subject himself to what rage and disappointment he believes Leon must be feeling? You cannot ask for a more fitting punishment, no? Quite ironic as well, if you'd ask me.

Plus, as a warlock, he wants the people to cheer for him- only him! What better way is there to grab their attention and love than by becoming the brightest thing on the battlefield?! Yes, it's all worth it in the end, hearing the people of Galar scream just for him alone- oh, he couldn't be happier! That is all he desires! If we thought Oktavia craved attention, think again.

Speaking of lengths he went through to become someone he is not, let's talk about him changing his teams; this is his point of transformation as a character, where the cracks in his confidence begin to grow alongside his desperation. At this stage, Hop was willing to make any sacrifice necessary to meet that goal of his- if he fails, not only were his dreams on the line, but so was Leon's reputation. The only constant between these teams is the starter Leon gave him- with teary eyes and a regretful heart, he had damned the experiences and memories he shared with the 'mons he caught along the way, for all that mattered at that moment, all that was worth keeping, was the one thing that held any sort of direct connection to his future glory; the very gift his brother gave him. It should be worth it though, right? He's only becoming better, becoming stronger, becoming the best trainer he could be-

Isn't that right, Wooloo?

Oh, man, wooloo. What kind of Hop-centric design would this be if I didn't incorporate this cute little sheep in some form or another? If not the sheer GUILT he must be feeling? Since I already covered how the warlock would be forever unsatisfied with his form, let us talk about the promise he made with Wooloo, and how him breaking it must be haunting him. Just up and abandoning them, his lifelong partner pokemon must hate him for such a cowardly decision- it should hate him; he had backed out of such an important vow between them, and implied that it was their fault that he was unable to reach his goals. Ultimately, it is his guilt and self-hatred that got him here; whenever he wasn't melting down and reforging himself, he was always fighting for the audience's attention- a whole herd of sheep who constantly demand a spectacular show. It felt right for his first partner pokemon to judge him, after all- he must be condemned for his disloyalty...

Building upon the last point- since Wooloo, his very first pokemon, was also removed from the team, this would translate beautifully into him removing parts of himself to fit that perfect mold, and what better way than to add in sheep elements to his design? The warlock having hooves as dark as obsidian for feet? Broken horns that might be mistaken for parts of his armor? Heck, even the gnarly skeletal system resulting from us combining that of a human's and a sheep's? While I am not too sure about what exactly is going on underneath his helmet, I will just assume that at least its base form resembles a mutilated black sheep's face, because of, well, Hop seeing himself as the black sheep of the family. Combined with his halberd, which I am certain would carry on from his last form to this one, this would bring the idea of a twisted sheep herder of sorts, on top of the existing themes of sacrifice that are already associated with cattle in multiple religions.

Of course, we can't go wrong with referencing him copying Leon's tactics in battle and said worship! This, too, will be a source of pain to his warlock; not only does his armor resemble draconic scales (again, Charizard), but the base of his helmet would bear the shape of Leon's beard. This also ties in to the above point of him trying to reshape his form to that of the champion's in order to achieve prestige and victory by following in his hero's footsteps, but its ultimate purpose in the end is the further erasure his form and himself; all that made Hop 'Hop'. He is constantly slicing away at his being just to fit that mold....

Yes, he also gets to keep the cape; much like his halberd, I can't see why this element of his magical boy form would not get carried over here, as it also assists with establishing the theme and desire to be like a big shot like his brother. Its red coloring would also be of nice contrast to the ashen grey or deep darkness of his armor, although it is tattered and not as magnificent as it used to be in his eyes. The armor already boosts the idea of a hero, but, combined with all of the elements from above and Hop himself going down the slippery slope, this monster right here invokes the idea of a fallen hero; bright-eyed protagonists who have become jaded over the course of their journeys or have decided to outright give up on their ideals and goals- some even opting to join the opposing side of the narrative outright.

I should also mention his inability to look at Leon in the face and how he didn't want negative attention to be drawn towards him in spite of Hop's desire to face off against his brother- some eye trauma, maybe? Would the mementos of Leon in his barrier bring him pain? Or...would the warlock be unable to see past the "glory" of the champion and his dreams? How his mistakes are blinding him? Maybe what he saw was so bright, so brilliant, that it blinded him to everything else; turning his eyes into burning pools of blood resembling molten steel?

Now, we calculate his karmic potential, his emotional volatility, and how they contribute to his warlock's strength.

While I was first working on this post, I thought that maybe he would have cracked after he had lost against the gym leader of Circhester Stadium - Melony -; after all, he must have been devastated, with all these eyes watching him as his final pokemon fell, but then I remembered two key details-

His self-esteem did not get any better by the end of the game's main storyline. In fact, it was at its lowest during postgame- and he even brought a comically large shovel to dig wayyyyy deeper, courtesy of Sordward and Shielbert!

His karmic potential not only stems from him being the champion's little brother, but his role in stopping the second Darkest Day.

So, in a way, that loss would be considered to be more of a catalyst for his despair rather than the straw that broke the camel's back, not unlike Sayaka learning the truth behind the soul gems or Hitomi's confession to Kyosuke. He may have brought Dubwool back to his party, he may have appeared okay-ish after we've defeated him in the semi-finals, he may have helped us save the day, but his internal conflict didn't dissolve just like that- you cannot erase all these years of constant comparisons, long-standing dreams, horrible impostor syndrome, and such an inferiority complex just like that with the snap of one's fingers.

Truth be told, he was supposed to finally give in after said semi-finals, but, out of urgency, he held on just for a little while- for just enough time to assist us with finding Leon and stopping Rose's plans. Now that everything was said and done - now that everything was laid to rest -, the eyes just wouldn't stop staring at him, the whispers didn't cease, and Hop...he was tired- he was oh so tired. Falling on his shaky legs and the harsh thoughts in his heads still not slowing down, Hop had finally closed his eyes and gave out his final farewell...

Also, Sordward and Shielbert will die by my hands for making his self esteem go further down the toilet in postgame, I swear to Allah-

From all that, we can see that not only are legends, prophecies, and destinies HUGE themes for when it comes to the design of his barrier, but that his warlock is gonna be powerful. Now, I don't wanna be redundant by saying that he, too, would be as tough as Walpurgisnacht (we've already done that with Medic, though, after thinking about it, he'd be more comparable to Hyades Daybreak), but saving an entire region is, putting it lightly, a huge feat, and that's without us touching upon his supposed connection with the legendary pokemon, one of Galar's heroes of myth, Zacian. In between being tied to almost a hundred destinies (Madoka) and saving the entirety of France (Tart), putting an end to the apocalypse - The Darkest Day - has got to be up there.

I know this sounds like a sort of repetition on my end, but remember what Homura said back during episode 9; "from here on, for every person (one) has saved, (they) will curse another". So, while Medic got his powers thanks of a combination of his own karma and how he had fused 8 other souls into him, Hop's karma was all his. In short, by this logic, Galar is beyond fucked.

Oh, and, y'know, the whole deal with him being the champion's little brother and Gloria's childhood friend. With all that in mind, bro's warlock is not just stupidly powerful, but outright broken. Not at Ultimate!Kriemhild levels, but that's still not good news in of itself, isn't it?

In the end, whether he had completely given up after he had lost to Melony or during some time between the events of the main story and postgame is up to you and your interpretation of Hop as a character. For the sake of this segment alone, I will just go with the idea that, if he despairs before the climax of the main story, his warlock would be a formidable foe, but not yet a world-ending threat like either Walpurgisnacht or Crépuscule de La Reine.

For comparison's sake (and to paint a clearer picture), I'd say that he could be as powerful as Gisela, if not moreso. From the PSP games, we can see how resilient and tough that witch is - so much so that she is tied to both Mami's and Kyoko's backstories -, so surpassing her strength is still a commendable feat. Much like his depiction in the section above, the warlock would still be capable of cursing many stadiums at once and cause such intense panic in order to take the league challenge down with him by making the contestants to go completely berserk, and, if he so wishes, he could render an entire village into ash.

However, if you guys wouldn't mind, I'll still be running with the idea that, thanks to the player, Bede, Sordward, Shieldbert, his family, and Galar's corrupted celebrity culture, the entire region has yet another apocalyptic event to go through, and only Arceus could save them now- basically what happens during the above despair segment. Good job, everyone! Enjoy listening to Grass Skirt Chase while ya could! /j

Now that we got the basic picture of the warlock down, let's cut to the chase and dive in to his barrier. I've had a lot of fun with this one, so buckle up!

As I already mentioned in my previous Medic post, a witch's labyrinth is stated to be the "mental landscape of the magi before they turned into a witch". From analyzing the barriers of the Holy Quintet and the other existing witches from the original anime, I've already deduced that they must be tied to either core memories, coping mechanisms, or desires-

HOWEVER,

A more simplistic take on all that would be "a place that rubs salt on the magi's/witch's wounds"; makes more sense, no? Candeloro is forever alone in her little tea party, Charlotte is in a silent conversation with another doll- unable to speak about what's on her mind, and, for goodness' sake, Ophelia's barrier is underwater. It is just logical to see that a labyrinth is designed to keep the witch miserable; specifically made to remind them of their own shortcomings, mistakes, broken hopes and dreams, and all that they've lost by the act of contracting with an uncaring trickster like Kyubey.

Unsurprisingly, with this idea in mind, I think the barrier would be a twisted version of a stadium, lit up by raging fire. The audience is present; their eyes ever-staring at you as their yells echo throughout the arena. You just know that your actions and failures will be recorded for future generations to see, mock, and spit at- after all, you are now trapped in a legend that is yet to be completed! Yes, even the style of your surroundings looks like it could fit right in an old storybook or any of the murals present across the region. Not too far away from this labyrinth's center, you are able to find multiple cages housing the victims he had captured; fighters worthy enough for him to test his skills on or put on a spectacle for all the audience to see.

In the middle of the battlefield, in the shadow of a large statue behind him, lies the warlock; broken, battered, burnt, and practically melting, but his duty remains clear as daylight- bound to his punishment and his own selfish desires, it has become his goal to defeat you before the audience. It is his destiny to be bound to this stage, having to pay for the sin of his existence.

The trinkets of Leon - or a silhouette that resembles him - that surrounded him in his own house are also present; after all, they are tied to his motivation, admiration towards Lee, and his wish to become champion. Even until now, the warlock and his familiars take good care of them, though he despises the reflection cast by them.

I should also make a quiiiiiiick note Pokemon Masters EX; you see, upon activating a character's sync move, they are displayed in front of locations present in the canon of Pokemon known as their "mindscapes", and, fellas, upon finding out that said places are significant to each person's story and life one way or another, I've realized that I have stumbled upon a hail Mary for PMMM/Pokemon crossover fanatics out there, myself included. Of course, I wouldn't recommend using these mindscapes alone as a sort of easy way to make barriers, but they do act as nifty, optional blueprints or spices to make those labyrinths look more colorful or representative of these characters.

When it comes to Hop, his mindscape, unsurprisingly, depicts Postwick Town. The location doesn't change when he becomes a Neo Champion, with the only alterations made to the artwork is that it is now nighttime and the presence of small flickers of flames dancing around; burning as brightly as the stars above - one more point towards fire being a persistent theme here -. Perhaps if you've gained enough of an upper hand and luck in battle to grant you some time to look at the ground, you can see that there's specks of white paint that faded away with time; the surface still resembling that of a soccer field's to this day, not unlike the one in his backyard.

To reflect his mental state and emotions of worthlessness and futility prior to him crossing over the point of no return, well, here's where the fun and pain come in-

The halls of the labyrinth are...suffocating; as soon as you enter, you realize that the area is only wide enough for a single person to traverse through. It's so dark, too; only the oil lamps and unmaintained lanterns present provide any form of luminescence, and even then, you have to be careful; one small misstep, and it is you who will be up in flames.

You also get the sinking feeling that you are being watched through the cracks and holes of suffocating halls; a feeling exemplified by the sounds of rain and howling winds just outside. The oil lamps do nothing to alleviate the bone-biting cold around you- the warmth provided is minimal at best. Not too far away, peculiarly enough, you can hear what must sound like...a radio; the details of what is being said is unclear, but the language is actually understandable if you happen to know Arabic. Through static and compressed sounds, you can hear that the voice on the radio is...reciting a nasheed; one chanting about the light of honor, victory, and divine heroism in the face of adversity, with determination being a repeated theme peppered in. No matter which hallway you turn towards, you cannot seem to get any closer to the source of the sound.

As you make your way to the center of the barrier, in spite of the lack of windows present, you decide to be a little brave and take a peak through the torn cloth or any of the cracks on the wall; you find that not only are you not at all far away from the hallway you've already visited, but that you appear to be going down a spiral- but this can't be possible! It is like you've done nothing but repeating the same steps over and over, only for your determination and desires to bring you down...

The winds have gotten louder - clashing with the noise present in the halls -, and your legs feel so tired...

You cannot take it anymore. You finally deduce that, if you want to face off against the warlock right then and there, then you better take a nosedive; break through the halls and descend further and further until you reach the arena, and face off against a furious gladiator- angered and heartbroken by the prospect of you destroying these mementos. How could you?! Such an act is beyond heinous in his eyes! You are no honorable opponent like the rest of them- nay, he is here to strike you down, to restore and clear the champion's name...

To rub salt on his wound a little more, let's add in more references to the people who affected Hop's life- those who have sent him down a spiral, whether consciously or not.

At the end of some of these hallways, you can find shrines that are clearly meant for worship; moreso than the memorabilia that are already present. A large statue rests in the middle of it, surrounded by worn pictures depicting a silhouette of a man and damaged, worn-out books and scrolls. The scent of smoke is present, alongside ashes on the ground; the warlock or one of his familiars must have been near the shrine not too long ago.

Some parts of the halls, namely what items made of organic material like cloth, are clearly damaged- whether caused by burns, cuts, or, most strangely of all, moths. The bothersome nature of these little creatures not only represent Bede tearing apart at his self-worth, but also his reliance on Chairman Rose- such a depiction may symbolize his actions and words' effects on Hop's self-image and life, but it also acts as a subconscious, final "fuck you" to white-haired youth; at the end of the day, Bede is just an unwanted, insignificant insect who gravitates towards any source of light while causing great disaster to others, even at the detriment of his own life.

...but...isn't that what you have cursed yourself into, Hop? Having to prove yourself to someone who is so far away for all eternity? To mimic them? All for a part of their attention and approval- much less a sliver?

They have both locked themselves in a cycle of attempting to appease to someone in their lives at the detriment of their own health...

Upon his defeat, once the crowd cheers at his defeat, the walls will crumble, and the debris will crush and pierce the warlock - whether he was still alive or dead by then - as you finally get a look at the outside world... Rolling hills that span for miles greet your vision as the grey, rainy skies conceal the afternoon sunlight- but it still is brighter than the suffocating arena and its connected halls. Not too far away, you are able to spot a windmill, still going on for what seems like several vicious years, if its poor state was any sign. Ah, if not for the chaos around you, the flickering silhouettes of round sheep in the distance and the smell of grass and rain really makes it feel like you're right back home...back in Postwick...

To end all this on a high note, let's touch upon his witch's kiss/warlock's whisper/evil cutie mark. Thankfully, I got it as soon as I could; one of those old emblems that acted as tickets to a gladiator match depicting a simplified sheep's head! To add some freakiness, the sheep face is stripped to the bone on one half, and glaring right at the person looking at it on the other. A circle of hop flowers surround the disfigured head, and the emblem itself appears to be half-melting.

-Witch Card-

Sayf Al-Muharib. The Gladiator warlock, whose nature is admiration. The light of an old hero's glory - eternally out of his reach - had caused his sight to turn into searing, painful ichor; blinding him to all but his own failures and shortcomings. As penance for the sin of his existence and weakness, the warlock is in a constant state of breaking down, melting, and reforging himself whilst in preparation for his next battle in the hopes of searing away all the flaws in him - all that lead him to his incriminating mistakes - and achieve a perfect form. He is unable to recognize the being beneath his armor anymore, nor could he remember the vision he had prior to his entrancement.

The cries and cheers of his familiars herald another chance for the warlock to prove himself and absolve the legacy of his hero once and for all- but, no matter what, the crowd is never satisfied, and neither will he ever feel proud of himself for the victory. He will never be an inch closer to the light of legend he craves so badly. To emerge from the battlefield victorious, one must not lose sight of their promise in the midst of battle.

(His name is inspired by Sayf bin Omar/سيف بن عمر, a Muslim historian and compiler. It should also be of note that the reliability of Sayf's ahadeeth have been a point of controversy to this day. When translated, the warlock's full name means "The warrior's sword".)

(The fact that his first name literally means "sword" bears two meanings depending on the protagonist- if it's Gloria, then it reflects how he tags along with and respects her though he is seen as incomplete without her presence in the eyes of the rest; while if it's Victor, then it's the clash between their friendly rivalry and his growing respect towards him. Either way, it also symbolizes how the MC stole his spotlight and destiny, and how they broke him and his dream apart throughout their journey.)

(Also, Homura fits the criteria needed to defeat him, let's GOOOOOOO-)

-Familiars-

Batel (plural form: Abatil). The gladiator warlock's minion, whose duty is preservation. A scholar at heart, the warlock analyzes the actions of the hero of legend to learn from them for future endeavors. Prioritizing the opulence and safety of these treasures, these small followers of his are on constant lookout for anything that would posses a danger to these sacred masterpieces while archiving the feats of the champion for future re-readings.

Unfortunately, their master despises the reflection cast on the memorabilia; forever reminding him of what he will never become. He will hang his head down in their presence out of both respect and shame, lest the sight of the failure he had become shatter what was left of his original heart once more.

(Symbolizing Hop's knowledge of battling in general; jokes about type advantages aside, he was always analyzing Lee's battles and was eager to use his knowledge during battles. It's also one of the key reasons as to why he chose to become a professor in the end.)

(Yes, the warlock himself also does his job at chronicling the feats of Leon - even going as far as to imitate them to this day -, but not only are the Batels there to assist him (I mean, they are his familiars), but they also sort of symbolize how...exaggerated Leon's achievements can get, especially in the eyes of others- including Hop's.)

(Its name is a play on words in Arabic; "Batal/بطل" means "Hero", but "Batil/باطل" can either mean "of no good use" or "useless". Leon was the hero, his hero, his ideal- Hop, on the other hand, was just dead weight to him.)

(Another note to add is that Hop's uniform number is 189, which, when read in Japanese, can mean "Hiyaku"; leaping. While the warlock himself would be struggling to walk with these hooves of his and his mutilated form melting and meshing with the armor, I can also see that the Abatil's only way of moving around is through leaping, since they would probably have only one leg to stand on. Ah, I love the smell of symbolism in the morning.)

Al-Daja (plural form: Al-Dajij). The gladiator warlock's minion, whose duty is to uphold competition. Ever-so excited for the upcoming battle, the crowd will explode into applauds whenever a new victim enters the stadium and comes face-to-face with their master. Their never-ceasing cheers always demand for more, and, not wanting their wide, unblinking eyes to stare at all his faults and mistakes, the warlock complies.

The warlock will try and not show a sign of degradation to his opponent- he'll hold out until they sing songs of his glory and his story gets passed down from generation to generation. However, these minions will often times become so entranced with the relics and spectacle that they would forget the identity of their master altogether, and even start cheering for the new challenger once the warlock is thrown into a corner.

(Based on Hop's personal drive - to become as glorious and powerful as the unbeatable champion himself -, how the losses have been affecting him, and him not wanting what negative attention he garnered along the way to affect Leon directly. The audience can be quite the chatterboxes; all it takes is one small piece of gossip for everything to go out of control. Its name, ألضجة, means "The Noise".)

(They also symbolize how everyone else already act around him all thanks to his brother's legacy- looking down on him for every little mistake he makes, while each victory earns him another comparison to Leon. He doesn't want to disappoint them- not the crowds, not his friends, not his family, and not himself, so he carries on with his useless endeavor; constantly chasing after a dream that is so far from his reach. The fact that this familiar is prone to forgetting who they are serving exactly is indicative of Hop forgetting himself.)

-Inspirations-

In-canon:

Sacrificing aspects of himself just to come close to that aforementioned ideal; going as far as to remove his lifelong friend, Wooloo, from his team

Trophies and other memorabilia of his brother being found in their home- almost no mementos of Hop being found there

Corviknight, one of the 'mons he gigantamaxes upon the release of the DLCs (the other is his starter pokemon, which I will assume is Scorbunny)

The fact that he is evidently Arab/Muslim-coded, especially in the French translation of the games where his name is Nabil (fun fact, Raihan is also an already-Arab name)

The third episode of Pokemon: Twilight Wings

Dubwool being able to learn a fuck ton of self-destructive moves

The statue of the Hero of Galar in Wyndon (Motostoke in the anime)

Outside Influences:

The Sealed Vessel from Hollow Knight and their theme; actually, wanna bet that he is trapped in a similar manner as they were if we were to assume that his power is equal to Isabeau's? That he has been gathering power from the mass hysteria resulting from his influence over the stadiums?

How sheep, lambs, and goats are associated with sacrifice, slaughter, deceit, and rituals (to tie the aforementioned wooloo/dubwool and self-abandonment points mentioned earlier)

The golden calf

The fact that some gladiators were prisoners and had to fight and put on a spectacle in order to regain their freedom

nana825763's "My house walk-through"

That one segment from Valle Verde part 2 which starts at around the 3:58 mark

The Devil Within by Digital Daggers (not my dumb ass imagining an animatic in which Bede is this warlock's first victim)

Cause of my Death by Itoki Hana

Dolus Vel Pedica, Area Strigae, and Delusio Summa from the Madoka Magica PSP game

The concept of living armor, but with added body horror

-Closing Statements-

Phew! Well, thank GOD this didn't take as much time as Medic's warlock did! (unless if we count my sick days- then yeah, it took just as much) To say that this was a WILD ride would be the understatement of the century!

I wanted to nail the vibe the witches had before we, as the audience, learned the truth about their origins - that he must have been born out of competition and the impostor syndrome that comes with such high-stakes contests -, and the idea that he, Sayf, was vengeful not just towards the leagues and the people who had beaten Hop while he was down, but also towards himself. I am unsure of whether or not I've completely succeeded on that front, but, if you guys have better ideas and/or criticisms, please do let me know! I aim to improve my writing in general and my abilities to break down character motivations and symbolize their actions in more abstract manners.

Being Bede is suffering; his ass is getting haunted on one hand, and Leon is able to smell his fear from a mile away on the other. He's not fucking winning this, lads :'3

...With all that being said, there is one shred of information that I've been withholding until now- the final piece of the puzzle that, once we step back, paints a rather grim image of what would occur if we were to combine the worlds of Pokemon SWSH and PMMM...

Outside the league challenge, the story of SWSH tackles the eldritch origins of Dynamax/Gigantamax; that the very vessels that allowed the people of Galar to utilize it must come from the remains of the invading Pokemon, Eternatus. Its initial awakening from its 17,000 year slumber heralded the event known as the Darkest Day; in which it had absorbed so much of Galar's energy that it caused its form to change and a dark storm to envelope the region, causing the pokemon to dynamax/gigantamax and go berserk. With the emergence of said storm come what is now known as "Galar Particles"; other sources of energy that, after the defeat of this threat, were utilized by humans for generations to come; rebuilding Galar from the ground up to the region we know today.

Now, a theme that both medias apparently share here from this fact alone is "energy". In a sense, you could say that Eternatus itself acts very much like a living grief seed; absorbing "impurities" in order for its true form to "hatch" and release boundless amounts of concentrated energy that can be used in a useful manner later down the line.

So....what gives? Why is Eternatus such a key element to this concept if the focus of this post is Hop? What does that creature beyond out comprehension have to do with the one we currently have in our hands right now?

See, not only does Hop's karmic potential stem from his destiny to stop the second Darkest Day alongside the main character, but his brother was also tasked by Chairman Rose with capturing the beast and delivering it to him; this was planned out in order to solve Galar's energy crisis that was going to unfold in the next several years or so, and, though it was a hard decision, the Chairman believed that now was a better time than never. The future of Galar, in his eyes, relied on him...

Obviously, Rose's entire plan fell flat on its face, so it was up to us, our bestie, and a very gud boi an' gorl (Pokedex entries confirm Zacian is Zamazenta's older sister) to save an entire region's ass from a wicked, unfathomable threat once more, but what if things went a little differently in this timeline? Obviously, one of the heroes who was supposed to assist/had assisted Gloria fell into despair and became the next world-ending threat she's going to have to put down, but what if this wasn't the only deviation from the norm here?

After all, Rose wasn't the only one who had sought out the means to prevent and remedy a sort of entropy issue at any cost necessary...

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dairy-farmer · 5 months

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Please consider: Split personality Jason where Jason sees Tim as a little brother, but the Lazarus Pit is infatuated with him.

Jason tries to do the whole Attack on Titan Tower thing, but the second he leaves eyes on Tim with pit madness, the Pit falls in love. Maybe the Pit absorbs some of the memories / personality of the people that are dipped in it, and has absorbed some of Ra's creepy obsession towards Tim. Or maybe it just sees how beautiful and brave and strong he is. The Pit wants to be near him, touch him, hold him kiss him fuck him. And while Jason may not want to kill him anymore, he definitely doesn't seem Tim the same way.

Personally I would love it in this situation if the Pit gently dub-cons or non-cons Tim, possibly without Jason knowing, and Tim can't say anything because he doesn't want to break up the family or scare Jason away from the batfam.

!!!!!!! so there's this horror movie from the last decade which is about possession and there was this really amazing scene- i honestly don't remember the rest of the movie or even thinking it was that good but this scene sticks out in my head and it's where the character that is possessed is a young girl and a bunch of stuff happens so she's sent for an MRI. during the procedure her mother and sister are in the adjoining room with the doctors who are running the machine and slowly, bit by bit, the scan is coming in with each picture presenting a more composite scan of the body. and the sister is watching as it happens and she can see in the scan, the face and body of an entire person curled up in her sister's abdominal cavity. that scene!!! was so chilling!!! it stuck in my brain even years later!!!!! i love the idea of rather than jason having a split personality, he is sort of kind of possessed by the pit because the thing is- jason was dead. he crawled out of his grave for some reason and it was the pit that fixed up all the loose ends that gave him back his mind and i think it would make sense that the pits were powered by a supernatural quality.

maybe in repairing jason's mind the pit inserted some of itself into him and maybe the pit has incorporated parts of the other people who have used it over the centuries!!! and a lot of those people? not very nice, good people.

a lot of those people were violent, entitled, and selfish. like the prince who killed sora, ra's wife, after ra's healed him using the pit. the pit has too much muck and tar even good, honest people who are dipped can't reverse the effects and come out...worse.

the pit has been tainted for a long time. long before humans ever touched it, furiously hungry predators would chase terrified prey down into caves and they'd fall in, tainting the waters with the hunger to devour at any cost.

when jason sees tim he feels hatred and envy and anger. and if that had been all he'd felt that's all the pit would have acted on.

but...there was something else in jason's gut when he saw tim for the first time. an odd twinge and swirl in him, a feeling that was drowned out by everything else but was there nonethless. attraction. tim was an attractive person and jason's body had felt that and the pit that had made its home in the water of his brain picked up on it too and that hunger...that desire...came back.

jason does not know what happens. and his attraction never goes away. its only when that pulse of heat in him flares up that the pit seeks out tim and forces him to ease that desire.

jason never thinks to tell tim. to confess. because of the tower and because he knows tim would never reciprocate. but the attraction never dies down and every time the pit indulges it fans their flames.

and tim. never tells. he doesn't want the shame, the humiliation, does not want to be the reason why jason is ostracized because jason is rejoining the family. slowly. he and dick laugh together, he and bruce are on the mend.

tim does not want to be the reason that is disrupted he does not want to find out...if bruce and the family would choose him. if they would even entertain the possibility of their jason doing something...something like that.

so tim...keeps his mouth shut. and he tries hard to maintain his distance no matter the frowns or concerned furrowed looks shot his way. they will never tell him to forgive jason or try to get them to be anything but civil. but tim will see their judgement and disappointment either way.

tim does his best to find work outside gotham, he finds exuses to go to the titans. even though the tower has been, proven unsafe.

sometimes tim will spend nights in kon's room. kon is confused but accepting and holds tim so that tim can catch, at least, a few hours of sleep.

it helps.

sometimes. but kon can't always be there and tim gets tired of staying up an vigilant. he needs to sleep sometime. and jason...jason is always there waiting for him to.

#answered asks #asks #anonymous

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the-one-that-weeps · 18 days

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i like ur words n thoughts. do more pls (if ur so inclined)

Hello! I'm so sorry I couldn't answer this sooner, I'm glad we're finally mutuals! I've heard many great things about you, it's a true honour!

Your wish is my command, I'll make sure my word smithing skills improve and develop in time :D

I heard you wanted me to specify more on the order of the characters in units, so I'll try to explain that a little bit!

Although I do consider the order of the units characters is exclusively chronological and these are just some instances of coincidence, I'm more than glad to explain:

The third characters in every unit are as follows: Honami, Airi, Akito, Nene and Ena. Their stories seem to gravitate towards validation.

The clear examples of this are the Shinonomes and Airi. Both Akito and Ena share a need to overcome obstacles on a treacherous path, they both suffer greatly over "not being enough" or "getting left behind by their teammates".

Airi is in a similar situation where she was left behind by other idols after she became a variety show idol. She quit the group after being called "average" (not good enough) by the manager.

Honami only ever wanted to not be hated by her peers. Chasing that validation, that "you're good enough", she basically erased her own wishes in order to be accepted.

And Nene is a little difficult, but let's remember she also struggles with self worth and could barely sing on a stage a year ago. She's also afraid she won't be good enough, she's also chasing validation and praise to become like her mentor.

The fourth characters in every unit (Rui and Toya being also the last ones to join in the main story) are as follows: Shiho, Shizuku, Toya, Rui and Mizuki. The theme that I believe connects them best is... Connection. Or, alternatively, reconnection.

Mizuki and Rui are quick to understand: they both have a past full of abandonment and ostracism. They eventually learn to reconnect with their unit and heal over time as well. They're also very tightly knit with the theme of understanding.

Toya's isn't as much about vbs as it is about music in general. Toya had a musical past outside of vbs, but his connection with music was twisted, it brought him pain. His theme isn't even "connection" as much as "reconnection", because Toya grows to love and cherish music again.

Shizuku also plays on this, she's been in an idol group prior to mmj, but she never connected with her teammates the way she did with mmj. Now, she isn't hated or despised anymore, she's not "just a pretty face" — she's herself, she's Shizuku, and Shizuku is the one to create bonds and connects.

And Shiho's is a story of loneliness too. Shiho is guilty for the Leoneed disbandment in the first place, and she almost makes them disband again in Resonating With You, too. She has a very hard time forging bonds with people and comes off as a loner, but she grows past that. She's still Shiho, of course, but she starts letting people in, embracing them, connecting with them.

If this theme doesn't suit your ocs in particular, the fourth characters also have a strong theme of "self" or "loneliness" to them! But that's more of a universal thing, i wouldn't dwell on it.

Anyhow, I hope this wasn't too messy and helped you! Thank you for your attention and becoming mutuals with me once again!

#asks #bramble rambles #pjsekai #pjsk #project sekai #mine ☜#rui kamishiro #ena shinonome #akito shinonome #project sekai analysis #airi momoi #shiho hinomori #honami mochizuki #shizuku hinomori #toya aoyagi #nene kusanagi #mizuki akiyama

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e1ectrostatic · 8 months

Text

i’d like to make an effort to get more involved in the fictionkin community, but the current climate of it is very confusing to me not gonna lie, particularly with the rise of the idea that a “kin” is a character you strongly relate to and nothing else

sometimes (especially on twitter) i see people claim being fictionkin has always meant just relating to the character, or having a deep connection, or even just Really Liking the character, but as far as i remember, that’s a really recent thing. like, i haven’t been too active in the fictkin community (yet), but i can’t recall that ever being a prevalent idea in years past. i’m still so used to fictionkin being a really niche concept, but now that it’s gained more popular attention on the internet, all sorts of new definitions and usages of terms have popped up

as a consequence, finding other fictionkin online has become a lot harder. these days, if i see someone say they’re kin with a character (or more commonly, they “kin a character”), i legitimately don’t know what they mean. are they like me? or would they think i’m “taking things too seriously”?

which takes me to another thing, the rise of misinformation on what it means to be fictionkin started a whole new wave of ostracizing and armchair diagnosing. i see people who are more familiar with the popular definition of fictionkinkin treat people whose experiences fit the original definition as if they’re weird or just straight up act ableist towards them. i see things like “it’s not that deep”, or “they’re taking it too far”. i even see people try to claim being fictionkin in the og way is inherently something you should seek mental help for, and i can’t really say anything about that other than what the fuck. i was used to people on the outside talking about us like that, but i definitely didn’t expect it to come from inside the house

AND LIKE i don’t wanna sound gatekeepy, not one bit. i hate it when people try to nitpick and dictate how things should be for everybody, but this shift in language is a special case because it’s now actively harder to engage with an already fringe community. i can’t think of any pros to it, plus there are and have always been other terms that could fit the “mainstream kin” experience. like otherhearted, or otherlink, or synpath, to name only a few. i’m sure anyone with common sense agrees this way of expression is completely valid and has its place in the community when done in good faith. it’s just that the rampant misinformation and misuse of terminology (not to mention the horrible toxicity) is actively pushing us out of our own spaces

anyway i dont know where to go with this, its just a little diary entry. shoutout to fellow fictionkin (or any otherkin) in the trenches, i hope someday the misinformation stops and people learn to be a little kinder

#txt #kin stuff #fictionkin #alterhuman #anyway if anyone has any advice on how to get more involved with the community that'd be welcome #fandom is fun but it can be alienating when it's the only thing you're involved in #there's just an inherent difference in how we process media. neither way is inferior or superior‚ it's just a difference #this has been in my drafts for months btw. setting it free now like a little wild animal

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