#i will not even kill myself purely to spite him because i know it actually would ruin his life a little bit | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tssidesfics · 1 year

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Credit to @wisecolorthing for helping me come up with this nightmare crack fic. I can't entirely remember how we started talking about it but the conversation wandered to Remus in a Spencer's and this was born. It is pure crack. Completely ludicrous and ridiculous while also being completely in-character because we're talking about Remus, here.

God should have skipped the flood and just unleashed Remus on the world a few thousand years early.

Then again, humanity might never have recovered at that point, so what do I know?

Welcome to my little circle of hell, everybody. Yes, you are all correct that my relationship with the others can be best surmised with the "this house is a fucking nightmare" vine, but you don't get any points for it because it's not hard to figure out. I subsist off coffee, spite, and sarcasm (but differently from Janus, who subsists off wine, spite, and sarcasm) and exist solely to, in Remus' words, "vibrate like an overripe chihuahua on meth and five espressos with a dildo turned on up its ass"--AKA I am an anxious mess when I'm not spiraling ever-deeper into the bowels of worst-case scenario-ism. I live in a very weird gay man's head with my roommates, some of which (Logan) feign sanity 80% of the time and the other 20% conduct deranged experiments on furniture, food, and sometimes people like he's the last mad scientist left and has to preserve his culture. Some of them are actually (mostly) sane, like Patton (although we have to affectionately--and in Rage's case, literally, but they have a complicated relationship--beat on him to make him start crying when he needs to, so all things are relative). Some are just plain weird, like Roman (seriously, he's not even a type of crazy I can qualify, he's just unhinged). Some delight in feigned psychopathy (Janus). Some really need anger management therapy (do I seriously need to clarify?...actually, yeah, Logan could use some too). And some, AKA the problem child of this fever dream, defy description, but a DSM-5 edition bursts into flames every time they get a very specific little lopsided smile on their face--the one that slowly dawns like panels of light until it's blinding and suddenly nauseating to look at. That feeling is always proceeded by destruction of property. Always.

And of course Janus and Rage are gleeful enablers. Is it any wonder why I yeeted myself off the first exit ramp out of that 24/7 Mardi Gras festival?

In case it was not made shockingly apparent by literally everything about me, hi, I'm Virgil. Kill me.

My Nightmare #347 began with Patton yanking himself out of Thomas' head into the passenger side car-seat with a giddy smile on his face. "Hi, Thomas!"

Thomas screamed and jumped so hard he swerved. I neglected to appear to him physically--given I didn't want to make matters worse--but I did start fluently cussing and climbed the wall.

"Patton!" Thomas righted to the car as a cacophony of honks chastised him. "Hi, buddy. Next time, not in the middle of traffic!"

"Oop. Sorry, Thomas." At least Patton was appropriately contrite. I didn't often consider him an asshole--"cinnamon roll" is so apt he literally turns into a cinnamon roll sometimes--but today, I could make an exception. "I was wondering if we could all hang out with you at the mall today."

"Pat, it's hard enough with you guys providing running commentary on my every social interaction in my head," Thomas pointed out. "I'd like to just enjoy seeing Joan again while they're in town and I will have to corral at least five of you if I let you out."

"But Thomas..." Patton whined, bouncing frustratingly in his seat. "The Mindscape is boring!"

"You can bake an endless amount of cookies and turn it into whatever you want. I literally don't see how it could ever become boring."

"Logan won't let us change it from your living room."

Thomas sighed. "What are the chances I can convince Logan to lighten up a little?"

I snorted so loud Thomas heard it.

"Thank you for your contribution, Virgil." Thomas rolled his eyes. "If I let the rest of them out, do you promise you won't let them get into any trouble?"

I squawked. "You're expecting Patton to control the others? Are you insane? Patton couldn't control a drowsy teddy bear!"

Patton popped back into the Mindscape to turn hurt eyes on me. I crossed my arms. "No," I said. "I stand by what I said. Your backbone is made of silly putty."

"All right, Virgil," Thomas interjected before Patton could crank up the Guilt Trip'O'Meter as high as it would go. "You raise a good point. Why don't I leave you in charge?"

"I would rather crawl into a hot and rot, thanks."

"C'mon, I can feel how stir-crazy you're all getting. It's making me more antsy than usual."

"I don't see why that's a problem, considering you have never sat still anywhere a single day in your life. Someone could hold Joan over a barrel of piranha telling you they'd drop them if you couldn't sit still for an entire five minutes and it would be all your fault that Joan died."

Too late, I realized my mistake. Remus cackled loudly and sank out somewhere I didn't want to know but had to follow lest he murder the literal only reason Thomas had ever gotten me remotely under control.

"Why would you do that?" Thomas asked dully.

"You see why it's a bad idea to expect me to control these lunatics?"

Logan sighed, adjusting his glasses and snapping his folder closed. God knew what went on in those things; we only got independent internet access when we manifested and he certainly couldn't raid a bookstore without manifesting, yet he always had one in his lap, diligently working. It was morbidly fascinated. "Honestly," he grumbled. "Thomas, I believe that yes, your mental health would benefit from letting us manifest as a group. I can control the others."

"Logan," I began. "Buddy. Pal. My guy."

"Call me three of those ever again and there will be scalpels plunged into locations you do not want to think about."

"You cannot control them," I told him. "History has demonstrated multiple times that the only person who can control us is Thomas, and he's going to be busy catching up. He's going to let go of Remus' leash. Do you really--and I mean think about this--do you really think the time you want Remus off Thomas' leash is in a mall?"

"Fine. Then we'll leave him behind. At least venting some of--"

"He'll just start shooting off intrusive thoughts like a machine gun. You let more than one out, you open the floodgates."

"You're being paranoid."

"Funny that. I can't imagine why I'd be paranoid. Sounds completely unlike me, I'm normally so laid-back."

"The sarcasm was unnecessary."

"You're finally learning when I'm sarcastic." I was impressed. "Nice, Lo. I was getting worried."

Logan clicked his pen menacingly.

I grinned. Logan was easily one of my greatest allies in the Mindscape--Roman was insufferable, Janus, Remus and Rage were out of the question, and Patton could be obnoxiously patronizing--but never let his capacity for violence be underestimated. I once saw him take Roman's katana to a bundle of sticky notes because one of them gave him a paper cut. Despite that capacity for violence, however, I delighted in pushing his buttons.

"Are we manifesting today?" Roman called down the stairs with barely-restrained delight.

"Unless you can guarantee Remus won't set the mall on fire, hell no!" I called back up.

There was a long moment of silence. "Remus, I'll let you have Mrs. Snuffykins for one night if you behave yourself if we manifest!"

I had absolutely no idea what that was--I wanted to think a stuffed animal, but with Roman and Remus, all bets were off--but Remus' ecstatic screech was enough to tell me I probably didn't want to find out.

Roman looked back down at me. "He'll behave."

I arched an eyebrow.

"Prince's honor."

"Historically meant shit, Princey."

"Yes, but not Disneyally."

"That is not...remotely a word," Logan said, somehow a mix between dumbfounded and awed.

"Look, I'm just not optimistic that letting Remus out when Thomas isn't keeping an eye on him would end in anything except Thomas going to prison for arson, murder, or public indecency. Or worse."

"I'll keep him in line," Roman vowed. "Please, Virgil? I'm going stir-crazy in here, we all are."

I crossed my arms.

Roman pouted.

I snorted.

Roman glared.

I arched an eyebrow.

Roman slumped.

I grinned. "Deal with it, everybody. No manifesting. Get comfy. Janus, think about pushing your luck and I am ripping out each individual one of your scales and burying them in places you don't want."

"How delightfully Remus of you. Except for the part where you'll actually follow through on the threat."

"From Remus it wouldn't be a threat, it would be a bonding activity."

"Speaking of," Patton said shyly. "Didn't Remus run off after you said something about Joan getting hurt, kiddo?"

My eyes bugged out of my head. I sighed and hung it. "Why is it always me?" I mumbled and sunk out to chase Remus through the Mindscape.

~*~

After fishing out Remus' limbs from a pond of piranha he'd dismembered himself into when he heard me chasing after him, I borrowed some super glue from Roman's room and stuck him back together. It should have fixed him up good as new but it was Remus and any attempts I made to change things around here were easily superseded by one half of Creativity. Which meant Remus was now walking around with his penis glued to his forehead, fully erect.

Not as much time had passed by the time we returned as I expected. Which would have been great if not for the fact that the Conscious Mind was conspicuously quiet. All the dishes were clean, there wasn't any crap on the floor, and there were no Sides milling about. I could have taken the time to check each of their rooms upstairs but why waste the time when I knew exactly where they all were?

"Roman, you are in your thirties. A store called Forever 21 is not for you," Logan was saying after I manifested in the general direction of the others. "Hello, Virgil."

I glared. "What did I say?"

"Aw, but Virge--"

"You're inviting a Remustrophe right now, you realize that, right?"

Janus grinned. My blood ran cold.

"I WANT EVERY DILDO YOU HAVE!" echoed across the mall, and with horror, I realized what I'd done.

I'd loosed Remus Sanders on the Spencer's department store.

~*~

The good news: nothing had caught fire yet. Potential loss of life was yet to be determined as Patton yelped and rushed over to the prone body of the clerk behind the counter. That also proved fine when I saw him slump in relief after probing her neck for a pulse.

The bad news: Remus had slipped the superglue I'd used to piece him back together out of my pocket and was now using it to attach dildos, ripped out of their packages with plastic and cardboard shredded across the floor, to his costume. He was also dripping with something viscous, disincentivizing me from touching him to stop him from unleashing more chaos.

By rights, seven dildos glued to his top should have torn the damn thing, but it was made of sturdier stuff than that. I studied him for a long moment, trying to work up the nerve to approach, while he just continued to wreak havoc. Janus, meanwhile, the only one not preoccupied with horror or despair at Remus' antics, meandered over to the bowl in which they kept their sarcastic pins, perusing them idly.

"You better be planning to pay for those," I warned, then looked around. "Wait. Where's Rage?"

Logan glanced around. "Likely inflicting property damage on a jewelry store. He rather dislikes those."

I pinched my sinuses. "Logan, could you rein in your alter ego, please?"

"I am too evolved for my alter ego to be that idiot," Logan told me with overblown indignity.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever, you're the only one who can talk some sense into him. The cameras may not be able to recognize Thomas' face on all of us, but the less reason the cops have to potentially stuff him in a cell, the better."

It was true. Somehow, whatever bizarre magic allowed us to manifest in the real world also confused cameras and people so no one could trace the destruction of property likely to follow us back to Thomas. It was the only reason I wasn't already in the fetal position on the floor forgetting the basic components of breathing.

Logan rolled his eyes and broke off to track down Rage. I turned my attention to Roman.

"No," Roman said firmly.

"He's your brother," I told him.

"Yes, and it's your fault he's here. You were supposed to watch him."

"I wouldn't have had to take my eyes off him if you guys hadn't snuck out in the first place. I'm one Side. Do you really think I would have stood a snowball's chance in hell of keeping Remus from doing exactly this?"

"And I have any better chance?"

"No, but the alternative is explaining to Thomas what you guys did."

Roman glared at me.

I glared back.

Roman pouted.

I continued glaring.

Roman stomped his foot and whined.

I pointed at Remus, who was now smashing glasses on the ground and eating the shards. Blood was rushing from his mouth and gathering in puddles on the floor. He was still dripping.

"I hate you," Roman informed me bluntly.

"Oh, like you've ever made a secret of that?"

Roman adopted a punched puppy expression at that one.

I sighed. "Yeah, yeah, you've been doing better, now go wrestle your brother into a cage or something."

Roman dragged his feet over to Remus and summoned a hasmat suit he put on. Remus sliced into it with a rather sizable shard and sprinted away before Roman could catch him. Without thinking, I lunged after him, only succeeding in sliding down the length of his body like he was covered in lube.

Oh, wait, it was lube. It smelled like one of Remus' worst farts and tasted like it too. You would have thought the dildos would have either failed to stick with his clothes soaked in lubricant or at least they would have given me something to hang onto to stop him from escaping, but all they did was slap me repeatedly in the face with silicon penes of various sizes.

Remus left a slimy trail behind him as he cackled deeper into the store. I was positive he was headed somewhere with matches so he could set the building on fire.

I pressed my face into the floor, into a puddle of lube, and sighed. Miserably, I hauled myself to my feet and turned back to everyone else. "You are in so much trouble," I assured them without passion, dragging myself off to find Thomas and get him to suck Remus back into the Mindscape before additional damage could be done.

I found him in the food court, blissfully unaware of the chaos unfolding deeper into the store. Altogether the world seemed relatively unaware of the happenings, another magical defense mechanism. It wasn't that people never noticed what we were doing, it was just that they were less likely to find it alarming. Although once the fire alarms started going off, people would pay attention.

"Thomas," I greeted without etiquette, coming to pause next to his table.

"Holy shit," Joan summarized perfectly. People aware of our nonsense were usually pretty good at spotting us and processing our appearances.

Thomas looked dejected. "No."

"Remus escaped."

Thomas flopped forward like a fish on land and smacked his head full into the table. The pain reverberated through my skull. "Time to--"

The fire alarm blared. Rage ran past with a shotgun, screaming, "Adios, coppers!" as he went.

Thomas watched him run past. "We don't have to stop him, do we?"

I considered it for a moment. "Nah, he can stay. As long as everyone goes back in, we should be able to keep Remus there."

People ran past screaming. A panicked exodus spilled from the food court. Some people knocked into me and I stumbled. Thomas caught my hoodie sleeve, then gagged and pulled his hand back.

"Remus," I explained.

"Right." Thomas looked in the direction everyone was running from. "I guess I have to go toward the fire to stop him, huh?"

I nodded sadly.

"Sorry, Joan," Thomas explained. "Next time, my place."

"Deal. Want some help?"

"You don't need to see what I'm about to see."

With that, Thomas and I made our begrudging way toward the fire.

~*~

It resolved relatively easily once Thomas gave Remus a disapproving stare. We all didn't do well with Thomas' disappointment, even Remus, so he moped back inside the Mindscape without much complaint. Everyone else returned to the living room in my doghouse and I locked myself in my room, refusing to emerge. Rage stayed out for a while longer and later we found out three police stations had been set on fire with all prisoners escaped. No loss of life, which I didn't know how to feel about.

Later, through mystical means, the stolen dildos Remus had taken were discovered in Ron DeSantis' home. We laughed for a week.

I amend my earlier statement. Maybe we really do need to use Remus as the next great flood. He'll just focus his attention on the fascists and we'll all be better off.

Yo, God, you should get on that.

#sanders sides fic #character thomas sanders #virgil sanders #virgil pov #first person pov #roman sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #janus sanders #remus sanders #rage sanders #anarchist sides #rage blows up police stations #and remus frames george santos for petty theft #antifascist #acab #crack taken seriously #funny talk of god and biblical stories

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alparlaboratories · 1 year

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My OCs Masterlist

I got tired of having to look through my mess of a computer to find drawings and other stuff about old OCs and characters I might wanna use in the future, and I’m bored right now so I figured I’d make a list with all of my important OCs, or at least the ones that mean the most to me.

These are not ALL of my OCs, just the main ones for their respective stories/campaigns. But there’s still a lot, lol. Also I’m not counting Niss for this list, even if she’s an OC in my heart. You can learn more about her in my pinned post anyway.

(Note: Art is either made by me, my partner @pastlight or has been commissioned by various artists)

Metchi

You know how parents say they don’t have a favorite child? Well I do and it’s Metchi. ‘What if someone decided they wanted to do good purely out of spite and had pretty much everything stacked against them?’ I asked myself. ‘What if she was also a grungy trans girl who has no fucking clue what she’s doing and is constantly bickering with the deity inside her head?’ was the next question. And from that, Metchi was born. The willpower to burn a hole through Mt. Coronet yet the resources and energy of someone who considers cigarettes the most effective breakfast.

Nico

He’s my PC from our current (in hiatus) Pokemon tabletop campaign. A Lumiosian street artist and Sky Trainer who enjoys throwing himself off of high places and being completely fucking incomprehensible to all who meet him. The only neurons in his brains are dedicated to serving looks, calling the wind to his command and delivering the most unhinged takes on the nature of human happiness he can think of.

Tulip

‘I would like to make a tragic character whose obsession with the truth will inevitably lead her to ruin’ I thought. ‘Oh, fuck’ Tulip replied. Out of all my stories, hers is currently my favorite from a writing perspective, and I owe a lot of that to Tulip herself, always willing to push and push until something pushes back, because it’s what she thinks she owes to the people who were just as unfortunate as her. And I love her for it.

Hope and Hunter

These two come in a package deal. ‘Small town life-long friendship’ is something I’ve been meaning to try my hand at writing for a while, and though their story is at the very beginning, I like them quite a lot already. A lot of my personal history with friendships and growing up into your twenties is imbued into them, though they are cooler and dumber and more than willing to take those things to their natural extremes.

Ska

Protagonist of my yet in-progress, unnamed visual novel I’m working on. She’s a sheltered Fae changeling with a death sentence hanging over her head, and a desperate desire to do as much stupid shit as possible before something ends up killing her. She has a bat and absolutely sucks at using it, and she’s hopelessly in love with both of her best friends. I love her deeply, and I hope I can share her with everyone soon.

Shadi

Absolute trash human being, possibly the worst woman in Sinnoh, lover of drama and shadow magic and also Dark Souls. What if an older sister was allowed to be as evil as her little heart desired? Well, that’s Shadi. Obviously there’s more to her, but I like making fun of her. I think she’s a funny character on her own right, except when she’s doing horrible shit to my other OCs, which is often. In any case, she’s one of my favorites to write for a reason.

Eatos

Eatos is... weird. They don’t have a set story, they kinda bounce around a few of my works being mysterious and off-putting and tricking people with smoke/illusion magic. They exist in the same universe as Ska, and in that world at least they’re a human with the power of a Fae artifact. I’ll get more of a chance to develop them someday.

8) (Really old drawing, I didn’t even have a tablet back then lol)

Shadi... 2!

Yeah I have a few characters named Shadi, I just really like the name. Anyway this particular Shadi may be my first actual OC, back when I was... fuck, I dunno, fourteen? I don’t know how relatable this is, but she’s the OC that made me think ‘I’m gonna write her story and become a famous fantasy author and write a bunch of books and-’ and you know the drill. That didn’t quite end up happening, but I don’t regret it much. I did write a book, but my creative goals right now are very different from back then, and I’m happy with that. One step at a time. Still, I care a lot about Shadi for basically getting me into writing fiction, and someday I hope I can write a story that’ll serve as thanks for her.

Cole

PC for another Pokemon tabletop campaign that unfortunately never progressed much. Which is a shame, because I like this guy, even if he’s so hard to relate to sometimes that I have trouble writing him. He’s nn ex League/army man who now lives peacefully in Pacifidlog alongside his Electrode called Maradona. He loves dogs to a comical degree (the only part about him I understand) and spends most of his time drinking beer, wishing he could drive fast vehicles and helping out Darya, his neighbor and aspiring contest star.

10)

Machi

Uh... yeah, we’re getting into the really old ones. I don’t remember much about Machi other than she was a hired killer and lived with a guy who did all her murder planning for her because the pay was good and he hated his job that much. It was from her story that Eatos came forth, so it’s a shame that they ended up being so much more interesting to me than Machi. I still like her, though.

11)

Tala

Listen, we all gotta have an edgy OC with a sword, and Tala was mine. Another PC for an even older Pokemon tabletop, maybe even THE oldest. I went around from loving him when I created him, to despising him a few years after and now kinda liking him again, just because he’s so ridiculous in his drama queen ways. He almost rivals Niss in that regard. But yeah, cool sword, tragic backstory, crabby personality, the works. What do you want from me? I loved that shit when I was a dumb kid.

Anyway... there are more of them, but these are the main ones I remember. Of course there’s also Reiko and Percy and characters like that, but they’re different kinds of OCs, and I already posted about them before.

No point to this post other than to have them on here for future reference.

#ocs #ocs masterlist #pokemon #child of thorns #art

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imagineimpact · 3 years

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Could i request Diluc angst oneshot where reader and him get into a big disagreement or argument where Diluc makes them cry and feel really bad about themself so they go and end up hanging out with Kaeya a bit much cause he offered to cheer reader up and Diluc won't apologize. until he see's his s/o hanging out with Kaeya

I actually wrote 2 different versions of the ending for this, but this is the one I decided to go with! If you want the more angsty version do let me know.

Anyway,

Harsh Words

Diluc x Reader

Screaming. Yelling that could be heard throughout the Dawn Winery residence late into the night, heard only by the maids, the night security, and perhaps a late worker or two.

And of course, by the two individuals who held the voices.

It was rather unusual for the two of you to be at odds; and, on the occasion in which you were, it wasn’t nearly to this degree.

But the two of you were outright screaming at each other. It wasn’t even about one thing anymore - it was everything. Whatever you had been arguing about had reached the point of irrelevance; It never should have reached this point and you knew that, but you were under fire and you couldn’t stop.

All you knew was that this was Diluc’s fault, and that you couldn’t take this kind of argument.

“If you just thought about your actions for once-”

You cut him off, “Oh don’t try me with that, you’re the one treating me like I’m an idiot and trying to control my-”

“If you had just listened for once and been less of a selfish bitch then I wouldn’t have to!”

His words had cut far deeper than either of you had expected, and you physically recoiled at the words, a sudden wave washing over you which forced tears from your eyes. The truth in his words was irrelevant - It felt true, even if it wasn’t.

You turn away from him. In spite of your state, he makes no move toward you. None, not even to give you the slightest feel of any comfort. You knew - he wanted the words to cut through you.

You go to the door and slip on your shoes, leaving the room as fast as you humanly could.

You can’t take this anymore.

But you don’t make it past the front door. As if by telepathy, Diluc has two of his night security waiting by the door in a stance showing you that they’re ready to make sure you don’t leave. They block your path, silent in their menace. When you turn around, only then do you notice Adelinde and Hille quietly staring at you. Diluc’s footsteps down the stairs are a slow horror, an even pace which served to only emphasize that feeling of dread; Very easily, this felt like the perfect time to be murdered.

The drawl of footsteps approach, yet cease a few meters away - he’s far too distant to do anything himself. His eyes lock on yours, quietly assessing you.

“Diluc, let me leave.” You hiss through streaming tears. You nearly choke on the tension in the air.

He doesn’t say anything for a moment. His eyes don’t show any expression, show any remorse or guilt, or even happiness. Truly, there is nothing in his eyes.

“Let me make myself clear: You are not leaving this premises in the middle of the night. Do you understand me?”

“Not even slightly.”

Silence. His eyes flicker, the way they do when he sees an abyss mage, or when Kaeya makes a comment that goes a little too far - pure anger.

“Adelinde, fix up the guest room.”

“No need. I’ll be leaving now.” You scoff.

Diluc tilts his head, peering over you and towards his security as if to say ‘don’t you fucking dare let them through’.

Then another look, and you feel yourself being pushed into the house again, the slam of the doors behind you.

A wave of anger washes over you, and you can’t help the excess of tears that fall, harder now than they had been before.

Diluc holds his ground, staring at you silently. You shake your head and look away, not sure what to do with yourself. Their staring puts you in pure disarray.

“Adelinde.”

“Yes, sorry.” She mutters, bowing and taking her leave in the direction of the guest bedroom in order to prepare it for you.

When she’s gone, you shake your head. “I’m not going to be sleeping.”

“Then stay in your room. I don’t care.” He huffs, turning away and wandering back up the stairs, his footsteps seeming less menacing now.

The argument was done.

Your eyes catch a light outside the window, seeming to exist a far distance away. Maybe it was the fire of a hilichurl camp.

What time was it? Surely the sun would be up soon anyway.

Fine. You would leave then, no matter what.

When you got to your room, you actually did manage to sleep. Not nearly enough; An hour was nothing in the long run, but it was still just slightly enough to not feel entirely exhausted.

Still, the sun was up when you arose, and you lay in the bed, uncertain as to what would happen when you left the room.

If Diluc wasn’t going to apologise, you wanted nothing to do with him.

So, after a little while of resting, it was a surprise to hear a knock at the door. You were summoned to breakfast. Nearly the entire time, you and Diluc sat across from each other - an oddity indeed considering he would always insist that he wanted you seated beside him - this time, however, you were as far from his as possible within the confines of the seated table. The usually empty seat felt hard beneath you, not softened by an everyday presence. Your usual seat to his right - where your plate had been placed before you had taken it to where you were now - was empty.

Neither of you could look into each other’s eyes. The silence, broken only by the light clinks of cutlery, felt burdenous.

You expected him to say something, anything really. You could barely eat the food on your breakfast plate, and without any words, you didn’t feel all too comfortable anyway. You let out a quiet sigh and stood up, tucking in your chair and lifting your plate to take it back to the kitchen.

“Where are you going?” Diluc’s voice was quiet but the harshness in it was unmistakable.

“I’m not hungry.” You looked down at the plate in your hands. “I’m going to Mondstadt.”

Diluc stood up suddenly, pushing back his chair and stepping close to you. The sudden movement caused you to shutter slightly, and he pulled back a bit. Still, he tore the plate from your hands and placed it on the table. “When you return, be ready to have a serious conversation.”

Oh.

You opened your mouth to speak, but then huffed and turned away. “Right. I’ll look forward to getting yelled at again.”

Diluc scoffed, “Stop acting like a petulant child.”

“I’m not doing this right now, Diluc.” Your feet are moving before you can even think about it. This time, as you approached the door, no one was there to stop you. You left with no present company to watch over you, and you knew that today was going to be a long, long day.

——

Mondstadt thrives with life, as per usual. Because of how bright and pleasant the place is, any spec of gloom is extremely obvious on a day like this.

You took to the adventurers guild to take some commissions. Maybe killing some hilichurls or slimes would take your mind off of it all, or maybe just delivering some needed materials to someone.

The entire time you had been speaking to Katheryn, you felt eyes watching you, but you didn’t want to make it obvious you knew. Alas, it was only moments later that you startled at the feeling of a hand on your shoulder.

“No need to be so surprised.” The familiar voice chuckles beside you.

“Good morning, Kaeya.” You let out a soft sigh, the exhaustion of the day before wearing into you. You thanked Katheryn and turned your attention to Kaeya. His eyebrows twitched and his expression shifted as he studied you.

“What happened?” He asks rather blatantly, eyes clouding over. “Was it Diluc?”

You took a deep breath. “Wanna join me for commissions?”

Kaeya scans your eyes. “As long as you tell me what’s wrong.”

“Come on.” You nod, wandering out of Mondstadt with him.

The slowly falling night brought you back to Mondstadt. You agreed to go to the tavern with Kaeya, a subtle kind of thank you for spending time with you today. It wasn’t like you were doing anything else anyway.

The tavern was already busy before you got there, people crowding around for a nights drink. You subconsciously step towards Kaeya as if shading yourself away from the crowded atmosphere and he is wary of your proximity. He draws you to his side, a friendly notion, and steps inside before you.

Charles waves at you both from behind the counter. Kaeya quickly orders a round of drinks and takes you to a table away from the bar.

“Hey, look who’s been dragged in.” Rosaria wanders over, quietly making soft chatter with you. It wasn’t unusual for the two of you to spend some time together.

Kaeya eventually wanders away, grabbing your drinks and bringing them back over.

Time seemed to dwindle away, the mindless chatter with your friends giving you more than ample distraction from anything else that might have been happening.

“Master Diluc! Didn’t expect to see you here today.” Charles’ voice rings out.

Of course, that wasn’t going to last long.

You lift your head slightly, tensing up. Diluc is scanning the room, twisting his wrist lightly as he speaks quietly to Charles; The words miss you. You freeze as your eyes lock. For just a moment you’re caught in that discerning gaze before he nods at you and turns back to talk to Charles. Kaeya draws your attention back away, and you slip back into your conversation, not wanting to deal with anything else.

“I’ll get another round.” Rosaria gets up and makes her way through the tavern, leaning over the bar and making another order for the table.

“How many are we on?” You ask, already flushed from the… how many glasses had you even had?

“Five.” Kaeya laughs, leaning on your shoulder. “But now that the killjoy’s here, he’ll stop us from having our well-earned fun.”

“I heard that.” Diluc scoffed, passing by you.

“Good.” Kaeya wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you closer to him, more out of a delicate affection than anything else. Diluc’s eyes narrow at his brother, who just laughs in response.

“Get your hands off of-“

“Oh don’t worry, brother. I would never keep them somewhere they don’t want to be.” Kaeya mocks. “You, on the other hand, can’t say the same.” Even with his words, he loosens his hold on you and leans back a bit.

Rosaria returns with your round, greeting Diluc casually as she slips back into her seat. Your pissed off boyfriend wanders away back to his work.

It clicks in your hazy mind that the only reason he’s here is likely because you are. You laugh at the thought, then clink your tankard to the group and drink.

—

As the evening wears down, many people in the bar until it’s pretty much only your group and a few others left there. Diluc lets out a soft sigh as he watches you, trying to soften that jealous pounding of his heart. He takes a sip of his own drink - apple cider, of course. He could never slam back drinks the way that your group currently were. Where had the hours gone?

Oh, no. How many drinks had you had? Whatever was next, he swore to himself that he would make sure that it was watered down. At this rate, you were pretty much welcoming alcohol poisoning with open arms.

Kaeya, wobbly as ever, decides to be the one to approach the bar this time (mostly because Rosaria was leaning against the table, head folded into her arms as she groaned). Diluc shook his head. “No, no. The three of you will drink this whole tavern dry if I don’t stop you.”

“Oh, I’m not here to get any more.” He leans on the countertop. “I just want to know what the hell you did.” Kaeya motions over to you. You’re just giggling at Rosaria’s complaining, leaning over and patting her on the head.

“I’m not talking to you about this.” Diluc leans back, crossing his arms stubbornly.

“Suit yourself.” He straights up. “I should probably get her out of here before you say something stupid.”

“I’m not going to be saying anything stupid.” Diluc shakes his head, looking over the list of all the drinks you’ve had this evening. “You’re all wasted.”

“And yet, you haven’t said last call.”

Seemingly to spite him, DIluc immediately does. He signals over to Charles to round up the remaining people. He knew to leave you last.

Kaeya’s laugh is enough to haunt him. “You make this right, Diluc.” He runs his finger over the counter. “Otherwise I will.”

“Get out of my sight.”

The cavalry captain laughs again, then wanders over to your table. He practically drags Rosaria back up, but she pushes away from him and made her own way to the counter - always a good spirit, she paid for her own portion of drinks and left. Being a nun, she probably didn’t need to use the money elsewhere.

Kaeya was two steps away from just carrying you out the door, but through his drunk mind he finds the clarity to understand just how absolutely inappropriate that would be to do, especially in front of Diluc. Alas, you lean on his shoulder as he assists your steps.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Diluc’s voice calls out, as if to stop you both.

“Usual billing.” Kaeya calls back.

“No, no.” You both look back at him. He shifts on his feet, eyes locking with yours. “I’ll be damned if you go home with him.”

“Then damned you are.” You roll your eyes, turning away.

He calls your name softly. “Step away from him. Come here.”

You take a deep breath. “I am so glad I don’t have to remember any of this.”

Diluc places a glass of water in front of you. “Drink this. You wreak of alcohol.”

“And you wreak of your hatred.” You sit down in front of him, knowing that it wasn’t about to get better.

Diluc’s eyes flicker up to Kaeya. “Get out.”

“Not happening.”

“Kaeya, this doesn’t concern you.”

“Their safety is more than enough concern.”

“It’s alright, Kaeya, just wait outside.” You pipe in, not wanting even more stress.

Kaeya agrees, quietly slipping out the door. Charles is told to escort him away, an act which may have varying success.

Either way, you sat in front of Diluc, not sure what exactly to say to him.

“I’m tired, Diluc. I’m tired of this. I can’t put up with-“

“I’m sorry.” He blurts out, interrupting you. “Please, hear me out.”

“I’m not going to remember-“

“Then I’ll tell you again when you will.” He leans over the counter, not wanting to be apart from you. He calls your name again, as if to hold your attention, “Can we talk about this?”

“I think we talked about this already.” You groan. “Yesterday, plenty of yelling. The Maids and guards can confirm.”

Diluc takes a long breath out. You lift the glass of water and take an even longer sip.

Maybe the barrier of the counter between you made you feel better. But, as tears sprung to your eyes, you felt so, so much worse.

“Do you hate me?” You ask, your voice squeaking. “Do you want to break up with me.”

“No, Y/N.” He reaches for your hands, but you had pushed your stool too far away from him beforehand that he couldn’t. He circles around the bar and gently grabs both of your hands, soft enough in his hold for you to be able to pull away. “Don’t ever say that. I love you.”

“Then, why?” You sob, turning your face away from him, hands still in his. “Why did you yell at me? Why wouldn’t you talk to me this morning?”

“I…“ Diluc stops himself, taking a deep breath. “I was angry. We were both angry.” He shifts, pulling out a stool and sitting in front of you. “I wasn’t acting rationally.”

“When you said you wanted to talk this morning, what were you going to say?”

Diluc hesitates, gripping your hands just a little bit harder. “I was going to ask… I was going to ask if you were happy.” He admitted, quietly. “But I can’t do that. I can’t put you through that.”

You tug him toward you, pulling his hands close to your face. “Why would you say that? I love you.” You sob into his soft skin.

He takes his hands away from your gently, slipping them around your waist and pulling you close to him, into his lap. He tightens his grip. “I’m sorry.” He repeats. “I’m so sorry. I never want you to cry.” He feels his heartbeat heavily in his chest, a distraught washing over him. “Don’t ever destroy yourself like this again.” He runs a hand over your back.

You don’t say anything. You’re way too drunk for many more coherent thoughts to pass your lips. You lift your head and plant a soft kiss on his cheek, and he softly kisses your forehead, pulling you back to his chest so that you don’t try to kiss him anymore - He wasn’t about to let that happen, you were far too drunk.

Diluc was ashamed of his thoughts. His guilt, rising only when he saw you in the present company of his brother, showing affection and finding comfort anywhere except for him. He didn’t want to admit it to himself, nor to you, but as you cried into his shoulder, he couldn’t help the wave of disappointment in himself that washed over. Why could he never be there for the people who needed him most?

“Come on, finish your water, let’s get you home.” He insists, though he holds you tightly still until you stir.

You take the water, sipping it with a slight indignance. He would have to apologize to you again in the morning, but he would do anything to get you to trust him again.

(Part 2 here)

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allmyspideys · 3 years

Note

a poe dameron x reader angst that ends with fluff maybe 🥺👉👈

Hi okay so i took this in a little bit of a different way and our “angst” is more like bickering coworkers aka enemies to wounded to… lovers :) i hope this is okay! If it’s not, just ask again and i’ll give you some real angst! Requests are still open btw lovies!!

“Dameron!” You yelled, hopping down from your x-wing, not even waiting for a ladder. Across the hanger Poe Dameron stood with his stupid little hands on his hips with his stupid big head back laughing with the other members of his team.

“Poe!” You yelled again as you marched your way over to him. The little crowd that had grown around him quickly dissipated when they saw you coming. It wasn’t that you had a reputation per se, it was more that you had a reputation with Poe and no one wanted to be close enough to accidentally get caught in the crossfire.

Poe smirked as he saw you coming, trying to ignore the fact that his heart picked up a little bit when he saw you jump out of your x-wing and immediately call his name. He liked the way his name sounded coming out of your mouth, but he would never tell you that.

“Captain,” he said cooly, “that was some good flying out there today”.

“Yeah,” you chided, voice thick with sarcasm and spite, “well I was the only team leader that had some good flying”.

Poe gave a little chuckle before turning and beginning to walk away. He unzipped his flight suit and tied the sleeves around his waist. You faltered for a second, caught up by the way Poe’s tanned and shiny skin rippled over his muscles as he pulled down the sleeves. You couldn’t help but ogle at the contrast between his soft black tank top stretching across the peak of his shoulder. Just for a second you allowed yourself to imagine those arms wrapped around you in comfort, or being used to pin you against something harder, but you shook yourself out of that daydream. It was Poe Dameron after all and there were nicer men in the Resistance than him.

“Don’t you walk away from me Dameron,” you spat, falling in step closely behind, ignoring the voice in your head that told you to flat tire your Commander, “you could have killed someone today! You were reckless and dangerous-”

“Listen Gold Leader, I knew what I was doing and I knew where you were. It was just a flyby,” Poe said, maintaining his cool attitude, “Now go get a few drinks with your team. I know they miss you”.

You tried to hold your tongue, you really did, but there was just something about Poe Dameron and chilled out attitude to everything stupid and cocky he did. It had been building for a while, but mentioning your team was the last straw and you just snapped.

“Well Black Leader, maybe someone else should be leading your team,” you spat, voice full of venom, “instead of someone with a superiority complex with the sole focus on himself”.

Poe spun around and his face was just as angry as yours. It surprised you and caused you to stumble back a little bit, but Poe’s arm reached out around your waist and pulled you close. If it were any other situation, both you and Poe would be reveling in the mutual warmth raiding off of one another and committing the closeness of one another to memory.

“Enough Captain,” Poe noted the way your face showed a flash of fear before returning to stubborn anger, “I am your Commander and you will respect my orders. Now go be with your team and don’t speak to me like that again,” the tension was palpable, but only the quick flick of your eyes to Poe’s lips would have given away that it was because of anything other than the argument you were having, “Is that understood?”. Poe leaned closer on each word, so that his breath was hot on your face and hand warm around your back. In any other situation it could have been hot and enjoyable to have him that close.

You gave a dry chuckle, “Pulling rank,” you leaned closer to Poe’s face, “You only do this because you know I’m right”.

Poe tried to think of a retort, but his mind was consumed by the fact that your lips were mere centimeters away from his. He could only think about the way your nose was flaring out of anger in the same way it flared when you laughed with your team. He wanted to say something, but the notice of your hand on his chest radiating warmth short circuited his brain and he just could think of anything other than you. Poe’s eyes scanned your face for any indication that you were feeling the same way he was and landed on your lips.

At that moment, BB-8 bumped into Poe’s feet, causing him to let go and pull away. He looked over you one last time before turning away again.

“Go be with your team Commander,” he said, sauntering away.

You were both so stubborn and hotheaded, though it showed in different ways. For every instance that you were organized, Poe was impulsive and for every time that Poe was calculating, you were there to point out every flaw. There was a time that Leia thought you’d make a good team. That’s why she appointed you Gold Leader to work with Poe as Black Leader, but the first time she saw you in a meeting, she quickly realized that she was wrong. All you did was bicker, both needing to be right, but Leia knew that one day you’d agree and make one hell of a stubborn decisive team. She knew that Poe would run headfirst into battle if you were hurt and you’d lay down entire armies if it meant getting to Poe. Leia wasn’t the only one to see it, but she was the first to see that behind all the bitterness, there was so much care and concern for the other. It just needed to be brought out, and one day it would.

It happened for Poe first. Poe knew he cared about you, and that he was attracted to you, but he also knew that your moments of stubbornness were very annoying. In that though, you were the only person he allowed to speak to him as you did. Maybe no one else had a reason to yell at him or maybe no one else had the guts, but if anyone else tried, Poe knew that he wouldn’t like it because that was reserved for you. He liked that about you, but he also really didn’t like that too.

Poe knew that you needed to work on your x-wing and he did too, so after asking around your team, he found out exactly when you’d be in the hanger. So the night before, he moved his x-wing right next to yours, so you’d have to share a toolbox and at least talk about that.

You were still pissed off about Poe pulling rank on you and hadn’t spoken to him more than you had to in the weeks following and Poe missed you. He missed talking about new x-wing parts and upgrades. He missed the way your eyes would light up when you talked about your home planet. He even missed the teasing bickering. It all brought so much joy to him. He was going to make sure that his plan worked and that he got to talk to you again.

Poe was working on his x-wing long before you were; he wanted to look like he had planned it before you did, so he could tease you about always finding him. Poe liked to tease you to watch you roll your eyes and flash him a little smirk.

Poe looked up at the sound of your footsteps across the hanger. He was beautiful. The way his wild curls were fully unruly and fluffy made you want to run to him and just run your fingers through his hair. His fingers were covered in grease and arms glistening with sweat. He was wearing that stupid black tank top again that fully showed off his arms and numbed your brain a little bit. As you got closer, you could see the glint of happiness in Poe’s eyes as he tried to shove down the smile that was threatening to burst out of him purely from seeing you.

As you walked by him, Poe called out to you, “When I saw your x-wing parked next to mine I knew you’d come running to see me,” he finally flashed you his big grin causing you to smile a little too, “you just couldn’t help yourself huh.”

“Not when it comes to you, baby,” you quipped back, giving Poe a little bump. Calling him baby was a common joke between you two, but every time it gave a flurry of flutters in Poe’s stomach and he longed for you to call him baby for real. He wanted to hear you call him baby when you woke up in the middle of the night and wanted more cuddles. He wanted you to call him baby as you held his head against your chest after a long mission. He didn’t know that you wanted that too.

Very quickly you fell into a gentle conversation, talking about everything from BB-8 asking for a new antenna and the droid you were looking at getting, to telling Poe more about your homeland and him telling you about his mom. Every now and then you’d ask Poe, “could you pass me …” and every time Poe’s breath would stop for the split second that his hand brushed yours and you gave him a wide smile and a thanks.

As you reached into your x-wing, something sliced your hand and you immediately jumped back, clamping your other hand over it, trying to stop the bleeding before it started.

“Oh dear Maker!” you shouted, face scrunching up in pain. Immediately, Poe was at your side, hands already starting to run over yours, looking for anything that was wrong.

“Here, use my bandanna to hold pressure,” he said, trying to move your hands out of the way to see the cut. You held the bandana over your finger, but started trying to move away from Poe. Every step and turn you took, Poe countered.

“Could you just stop and go get me the first aid kit,” you yelled at him. Poe ran to grab it and came back to you immediately trying to fix you up again.

“Poe stop!” Poe’s deep brown eyes flicked up to yours and you could see the concern in his eyes. You’d never actually seen Poe worried about you. Sure, you had heard about Poe asking your teammates how you were doing or how a mission went, but it was never to your face. Seeing it sparked something deep inside of you, a warmth that made you regret snapping at him.

“I can do it myself,” you whispered, looking down, unable to look him in the eye.

“I know,” Poe tilted your chin up, so he could see your beautiful face, “but you don’t have to”. Poe’s voice was so warm and full of care, that you looked back up at him to see something more than just concern, but you couldn’t quite tell what it was. Poe knew what it was. He hadn’t wanted to admit it to himself for a long time, but finally, the love he had for you broke through. Poe loved you and he wanted you to know.

Poe put as much love as he possibly could into gently wiping away the blood and cleaning up your wound, muttering a small “sorry” when you hissed at the pain. The love he was feeling fueled his hands wrapping yours in gauze and fueled his lips as he gave your palm a small kiss.

“All better,” he said, resisting the urge to lean down and give your head a small kiss too as he put away the first aid kit.

Poe knew that he loved you, but you just felt warm and fuzzy and confused, unwilling to let yourself think that Poe Dameron could view you as anything other than his inferior that he shoved in your face only a few weeks prior. Part of you wanted to hold onto that feeling, letting the warmth from Poe’s hands on yours linger, but the other part wanted to shove the warmth spreading through your chest from the care that Poe gave you so far down. You thought you had, but every now and again, Poe would flash you a smile from across a hanger and your cheeks would get warm with the spreading warmth from your heart.

You’d never tell anyone, but you really didn’t need to. Leia saw it immediately. She saw the way that Poe would gently grab your wrist as you yelled at him for something stupid he had done. She watched the way he would lean back in his chair, resigned to accept whatever you were giving him. She saw that meetings started to go more and more smoothly as you would actually listen to each other and build a plan, together. Leia even saw the few times Poe pulled you aside to apologize for getting too heated when you two did disagree.

Is kind of sad that it took Poe getting seriously hurt for you to willingly admit it, but all is fair in love and war. You were never told what actually happened, but the second that Snap ran into your room telling you that Poe was hurt, you set off running. Snap followed closely behind rattling off the whole story, but all you heard were words. You heard him say “Poe was fixing your ship” and that was the last thing that registered; you’re only thought was getting to Poe.

After pushing your way through people and mumbling excuse me, you finally saw him. Poe was laying on a little cot, right above the ground in the hanger. His whole arm was covered in blood from a gash that no one could get to stop bleeding. You heard someone say that Medical was on their way, but when you locked eyes with Poe, it was like everyone else completely disappeared. You heard your heart beating in your ears as that familiar warmth started to consume your chest.

Poe looked into your eyes and saw that same look you saw in his. It was concern and a little something more, but this time, Poe knew exactly what that little something was. It was love. He knew it and now you knew it too.

“Captain,” he said, still using that annoying chill attitude, “come to see me off?”

You knew it was a joke and that he was talking about Medical guaranteeably grounding him for a while, but it felt too much like death. Tears sprung to your eyes as you thought about losing the love so soon after you finally admitted it.

“Shut up Dameron,” you commanded with a sad chuckle. You got on the ground to lean in close to Poe’s face. “You’re gonna be fine”.

Poe gave you his infamous smile, warming your whole body once again. You noted the way Poe’s eyes crinkled and nose scrunched up a little bit when he smiled. You wanted to see that face everyday. You wanted to wake up next to that face and jump out of your x-wing just to see that face grinning at you across the hanger. You wanted Poe.

“Careful Gold Leader, someone might think you actually like me,” Poe chided. Poe’s grin grew wider as he saw you break out into a little smirk. He would do anything to see that smile, even if it meant teasing you when just breathing was taking up so much of his energy.

You reached out to lace your fingers with Poe’s and gave him a little squeeze. Of course you liked him, everyone knew that, but not everyone knew that you loved him. Though if they looked at the two of you sitting there, they’d know immediately. Poe’s eyes were bright, staring deep into your loving ones, both with a wide smile despite the physical pain, your hands now bloody from trying to help as much as you could, and most importantly, the complete bliss of being that near each other. It may have taken you far longer than it should have to admit to yourself that you loved Poe Dameron, but once you did, there was no going back, and honestly, you didn’t want to.

“And what if I wanted someone to know that I love you,” you asked. Your eyes were still so full of love, but your nervous smile gave you away. Poe felt like he was floating; he knew you loved him because he felt it every time you interacted, but finally hearing you say it made his whole world seem better. Poe reached up to cup your face, but pulled back slightly because he didn’t want to get any blood on you, but blood washes off and your love did not, so you leaned your face into his palm, recognizing the radiating care that flowed from all of Poe’s touches.

“Then I would tell someone that I love you too,” Poe’s voice was laced with love and adoration. It made you feel so incredibly warm and fuzzy, loved and supported, and lucky. It may have taken a long time full of bickering and frustration, but Poe Dameron was guaranteeably your best friend, and you were so happy to be in love with him.

As Leia looked onto the scene unfolding in front of her, she knew that you were finally the team you were meant to be. She knew that you would hunt across the galaxy if it meant finding Poe. There would still be bickering and teasing, but that’s where the love began, and at the end of the day, Poe would hold you in his arms and remind you of all the sweet things he loved about you.

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josefavomjaaga · 2 years

Text

“A Montagnard sans-culotte”

This may be something for once that could interest also the »neighbours« from the Frev era. Maybe somebody from there could even give more details on this? It’s a letter by future empress Josephine from November 1793.

As mentioned here in a brief excerpt of Eugène’s memoirs, his uncle, Alexandre Beauharnais’ older brother François, had been a staunch royalist. He fled the country, if I remember correctly, at the end of 1792. One year later, in November 1793, his (former, as she divorced him in 1793) wife Marie-Françoise (mother to the famous Emilie who would later become Madame Lavalette and save her husband from prison during the Second Restauration) was arrested and taken to the Prison de Sainte-Pélagie. Future Josephine, still named Rose at the time, tried to intervene on behalf of her sister-in-law with Marc Guillaume Alexis Vadier, member of the »Comité de la Sureté générale«. As he refused to see her, she wrote him a letter – as it seems, more defending herself and her whole family than her imprisoned sister-in-law specifically.

Unfortunately, the tone of the letter (translated from Chevallier/Picemaille “L’impératrice Josephine”] cannot be accurately reproduced in English; Josephine, of course, addresses this high official throughout with the confidential, or in this case republican, "tu".

Since it is not possible to see you, I hope that you will be kind enough to read the memorandum which I enclose here. Your colleague told me of your severity, but at the same time he told me of your pure and virtuous patriotism and that, despite your doubts about the good citizenship of the ci-devant, you are always interested in the unfortunate victims of error.

I am persuaded that on reading the memorandum, your humanity and your justice will make you take into consideration the situation of a woman unhappy in all respects, but solely for having belonged to an enemy of the Republic, to Beauharnais the elder, whom you knew and who, in the Constituent Assembly, was in opposition with Alexandre, your colleague and my husband. I would be very sorry, Citizen Representative, if you confused in your thought Alexandre with Beauharnais the elder. I put myself in your place: you must doubt the patriotism of the ci-devant, but it is in the range of possibilities that, among them, there are ardent friends of Liberty and Equality.

This is actually an interesting phrase. Josephine here clearly assumes that it is indeed the fact that she and her relatives all are ex-nobles that endangers their freedom and their lives. So, apparently she already thought that »the Revolution wants to kill the nobles«, before any »Thermidorian propaganda«?

Alexandre has never deviated from his principles: he has always walked a straight line. If he were not a republican, he would have neither my esteem nor my friendship.

Also an interesting phrase, considering the couple had been living separated for years at that time.

I am an American and know only him of his family, and if I had been allowed to see you, you would have been cured of your doubts. My household is a republican household: before the Revolution, my children were not distinguishable from the sans-culottes, and I hope they will be worthy of the Republic.

I am writing to you honestly, as a Montagnard sans-culotte. I only complain about your severity because it deprives me of seeing you and having a little conference with you. I ask you neither favour nor grace, but I claim your sensibility and your humanity in favour of an unfortunate citizen. In spite of your refusal, I applaud your severity as far as I am concerned, but I cannot applaud your doubts about my husband. You see that your colleague has repeated to me everything you told him: he had doubts as well as you, but, seeing that I lived only with republicans, he stopped doubting. You would be just as fair, you would stop doubting if you had wanted to see me.

Farewell, esteemed citizen, you have my confidence.

Lapagerie-Beauharnais

Josephine may not be Josephine yet but she is clearly already doing what she will later excel in, working her »social net« as her biographer Pierre Branda calls it. She has connections in both royalist and revolutionary circles. As for Alexandre, he had apparently been close to one François Chabot, recently imprisoned due to corruptions apparently on a scale even exceptional and unbearable for those times. I assume that’s the reason for both Vadier’s suspicions and Rose-Josephine’s attempt to clear her family’s name.

(I must admit the more names I look up in Wikipedia, the more disgusted I am with this era. A lot of factions full of strong men who are all afraid of each other, trying to get each other out of the way, using other people as pawns. Oh, and enriching themselves as much as possible, of course.)

So, getting back to Marie-Françoise de Beauharnais, the lady in prison: As Josephine could not procure any help from one of her friends in higher-up circles, what were her options? Except for sitting in prison, hoping nobody would incite another mob riot in order to free up some space there? According to Hortense’s memoirs, when both her parents were imprisoned, she and her brother would bring them fresh clothes but were never allowed to see them nor even to write to them (which probably occasioned the nice little anecdote about ugly pug Fortuné taking letters to Josephine); in order to let them know they were still alive, they took turns in writing the laundry list enclosed in the package, so they would at least see both their handwritings. Can people from the FRev era confirm this, is this a credible detail? As soon as somebody had been arrested, what could they do in order to defend themselves? Was anybody even interested in hearing them? What was the point in imprisoning family members of émigrés, except trying to seize those people’s property or intimidate other people?

#josephine de beauharnais #frev #alexandre de beauharnais #napoleonic era

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crispyjenkins · 3 years

Note

Jangobi. After Melida/Daan Obi-wan comes back to the order but qui-gon doesn’t want him anymore so one of the council members jumps at the chance to apprentice him. This leads to him being encouraged to pay attention to his visions and feelings from the force because THEYRE REAL AND YOU SHOULD PROBABLY GIVE THEM SOME ATTENTION OBI-WAN. Obi gets a vision and a feeling that he needs to follow and tells his master. This leads to them finding Jango while he was still a slave and them freeing him.

(*gonna start putting translations up here like i do on ao3*

cw: drug use, cw: non-consentual drug use. basically second-hand highs from working with spice, nothing graphic but is mentioned a few times.)

Mando’a: kad’au — “lightsaber”, used here intentionally in place of jetii’kad, “Jedi’s saber” “Vor’e te Manda” — “Thank the Manda”, with Manda meaning “the collective soul or heaven - the state of being Mandalorian in mind, body and spirit - also supreme, overarching, guardian-like” (mandoa.org) “Tion’cuy?” — “Who’s that?”, “Who are you?” confrontational urcir’ijaat — “honor duel”, lit. “honor meet” – look me in the eye and tell me the mandalorians don’t settle more than just elections with trials by combat “Tion’ad hukaat’kama?” — “Who’s watching your back?”, “Where’s your backup?” osik — “shit”

Even completely fucked second-hand on the inch-thick dusting of spice on every surface of the slave transport, Jango knows the kid hadn’t been on Galidraan.

Wide brown eyes blink at him through the ray shield keeping Jango and six other slaves in the cramped space barely big enough for two of them, and Jango had thought he’d burned through his rage years ago, but seeing the kid with a kad’au held at their side in a reverse grip ignites something in Jango that he’d thought long dead.

They’re not dressed like a Jedi, instead decked in spacer’s rags that hang too-loose from lanky limbs that have yet to hit their last growth spurt, and the chain marking them as a padawan is tucked up into a soft blue cap that clashes rather horribly with the little ginger hair that pokes out the front. They look human, but then, so had Jaster; every Jedi Jango has met before had been human as well, though he knows they’re as diverse as Mandalorians.

“Vor’e te Manda,” the baby Jedi breathes, and Jango is far too high to tell if he had imagined it or not. He had not thanked the Manda in many years.

He pushes shakily to his feet, needing to lean on the wall until his head stops feeling like it’s going to float away, and the other slaves skitter as far back into the cell as they can. “Tion’cuy?” Jango hisses, four years of venom dripping from the demand (Who are you?), but the baby Jedi just extinguishes their ’kad and hits the panel next to the door to power down the ray shield.

“My name is Obi-Wan Kenobi, and I’m here to rescue you.” They smile at everyone hiding behind Jango’s fury, and take a step back to gesture them out of the room. “If you follow this corridor to the starboard side of the transport, you will find a shuttle waiting with nine other freed prisoners,” they say with an obnoxiously-High Coruscanti accent that was completely imperceptible in their Mando’a. “I will not hold it against you if you take one of the escape pods, but my teacher is waiting on Concordia to reprocess your identities back into Republic systems, and we will do all we can to find and contact your families or peoples, if you so wish.”

Teacher. Not master. And freed prisoners, not slaves.

Jango growls under his breath, not trusting this Obi-Wan Kenobi as far as he can throw them, but the promise of freedom hangs heavy in the air, and it only takes a moment for his cellmates to decide the risk is worth it, scrambling and shuffling past Kenobi with murmurs of thanks in four different languages.

Jango doesn’t move.

He watches Kenobi’s throat bob nervously, as they make no move to follow their “freed prisoners” down the hall.

He asks again, “Tion’cuy?”

“Naas’ad jaon’yc.” No one important. “I was simply in the right place at the right time.”

Banthashit. “Banthashit,” Jango snarls, and Kenobi has the good sense to actually flinch.

“Look, I know the last thing you want right now is another Jedi, and if you were to demand urcir’ijaat on behalf of your people, I would accept with honor; but, no offense, in the state you’re in, it wouldn’t be much of a fight.” They hook their ’kad on their belt, and nod to the corridor once again. “Now, as engaging as this conversation is, I believe one of the smugglers was able to get a distress call out before I could stop him, and I would really prefer not to meet whoever picks up the signal.” Raising a single brow expectantly, the child gestures for Jango to follow. The kid’s right, of course, Jango couldn’t fight off a rat at the moment, but that doesn’t mean he has to like it.

Growling, Jango shoves off the wall and somehow keeps both his balance and his feet underneath him, out of pure spite for the arm Kenobi offers in support.

He had fully intended to take one of the escape pods and jettison towards Mandallia instead of Concordia, but halfway across the slave transport that seems even smaller than he'd remembered, Kenobi throws out their arm again, this time to stop Jango just before they turn a corner.

“Oh, that’s not good,” they mutter and barely manage to duck under the blaster rifle swung at them like a bat, and Jango feels himself be shoved down to the floor against the wall.

Above him, Kenobi ducks away from a hulking human with a rather unfortunate receding hairline, and all at once, the Jedi seems like a completely different person. Something shutters behind their eyes, expression dropping to a blank indifference that’s belied by the warrior’s ease with which they dodge both vibroblade and swinging blaster, dancing backwards down the hall and leading the yelling smuggler away from Jango.

Dizzied by his sudden drop from standing to sitting, Jango doesn’t try to get back to his feet, instead watching Kenobi play the other human like a particularly ugly hallikset*. They don't even pull out their kad’au, remaining weaponless as they bounce and weave like they have all the time in the world; were Jango not stoned out of his mind, he’d probably be impressed.

Then something flips a switch in Kenobi, and without telegraphing a single twitch, they dive forward instead of away, using their whole arm to knock the blaster to the ground. In the same breath, Kenobi rams their head into the other’s chest in a move that would make most Mandalorians proud, relieving the stunned smuggler of his vibroblade before driving their knee into his chest.

The smuggler drops with a muffled clang, and Kenobi steps cleanly out of the way to watch him land face-first on the durasteel floor. Kenobi picks up the rifle, discharging the clip onto the ground, and chucks the whole thing through the nearest open door. They leave the smugglers’s body right where it is.

“Sorry about that,” Kenobi murmurs, coming back to Jango and helping him to his feet. “I must have missed one of the guards near the back.”

Something about the phrasing unsettles him, but it takes another moment of forced concentration to put his finger on it. “Tion’ad hukaat’kama?”

Kenobi grimaces. “I’m not fluent in Mando’a.”

“Who’s watching your back?” Jango growls, getting right up in their space. “Where the fuck is your backup if your master is on Concordia?”

The kid —who’s really more of a teen, almost a young adult— winces and tries to start herding Jango towards the shuttle again. “I’m here alone,” they say, almost apologetic, “but I can handle myself.”

“Your magic wizard mentor let you stage a spiceminer slave rescue on your own?” It goes against anything Jaster had taught him about the Jedi, about an apprentice’s master being as close to a buir as the Jedi will allow; not to mention the galaxy-wide understanding that, if you mess with a padawan, make kriffing sure the master’s dead first.

Yet, Kenobi’s deepening grimace tells Jango all he needs to know.

“He doesn’t know?”

“Look, I didn’t have a whole lot of time, alright?!” Done with being patient, Kenobi grabs his arm and starts dragging Jango quickly through the ship. “We got separated and were going to rendezvous, but if I had waited for him, the spicers would have already moved on!” They yank him down one more hall before they reach the promised shuttle, docked directly to one of the transport’s exterior hatches. Out the nearest viewport, there is indeed another ship approaching, but Jango can’t tell if it’s friendly or not.

Kenobi doesn’t give him time to figure it out, pushing him into the shuttle and immediately closing the boarding hatch behind them.

The other slaves stand around the small cargo bay in various states of drugged-up panic, and if Jango is counting correctly, only one had opted to take an escape pod.

Far more carefully, Kenobi pushes Jango to the nearest bench, and then goes around the room coaxing the rest into seats as well. Even while gentle about it, murmuring words of assurance in as many languages as they know, Kenobi still moves and speaks with urgency — part of Jango wonders if they’re mind-tricking everyone into compliance.

He waits until Kenobi has detached from the transport and properly started their course to the nearest planet, a swirl of grays and browns that can only be Concordia, before following the Jedi up to the absolutely tiny cockpit.

There’s barely room for the two pilots’ seats, and the ceiling is so low that even Jango's hair brushes the roof, yet Kenobi looks right at home before the wildly overcomplicated controls.

They say nothing as Jango drops into the other chair, merely glaring sideways at him until they’re a good ways away from the spicers’ transport.

“I do ask that you don’t kill me before we get everyone settled,” Kenobi finally sighs, and Jango almost laughs at them: did they think he came up here just to shivv them?

“I’m not going to kill you, Kenobi.” At least, not yet. “You knew who I was.”

Kenobi winces and flips a blinking switch over their head. “I have a Jedi answer for that, and one where you’re less likely to use that vibroblade in your boot. Which would you prefer?”

Jango considers them for a moment, and he’s certain now that Kenobi is younger than Jango had been on Galidraan, but not by much: they have one of those faces that eternally makes them look younger than they are, but if he’s over twenty standard, Jango is a Kryze.

“Both. I want both.”

“Right.” Visibly steeling themself, Kenobi swallows and adjusts their course slightly; wait, when had they gotten away from that second ship? Had Jango imagined it? Then again, he barely knows up from down at the moment, only grounded by Kenobi’s infuriatingly calm presence. “The easy answer is that I saw your name on the freighter’s manifest when it was docked on Mandalore, and recognised it. I’m on an extended mission in Mandalorian space, and, well, my master thought it would be good to catch me up on the recent history, as I had only briefly learned about the Civil War while in the Temple.”

He’s pretty sure that makes sense, a logical A to B, an almost maddeningly ordinary explanation for the space-blown panic Jango had felt on first seeing them, on first hearing their relief at finding him.

“And the Jedi answer?” he prompts quietly, fingers twitching at his lack of a weapon.

They glance at him briefly, at his hands, before facing back forward. “I only knew to check the manifest because I had a Force vision, and I couldn’t knowingly leave you, or any of the others, to this fate. I knew what you looked like not from my lessons, but from what the Force showed me.”

“What the Force showed you.”

“Like I said, the first answer is easier.”

“I’m too high for magic osik.”

They wince again. “Yes, I suspected. My master has a spice specialist waiting for when we land, if any of you choose to detox immediately. She’s Old Clan, though — um, Vau Clan, I think.” The Vau Clan did not follow Jaster, but they certainly didn’t follow Vizsla either, and were unlikely to have sided with the duchy. Now, why Kenobi found that important...? “We couldn’t find any medics who used to follow Jaster Mereel,” they explain, as if reading his mind. “At least, not on such short notice. Obviously we wouldn’t trust anyone from Death Watch, or the New Mandalorians, or the mercenaries controlling Concordia, not with the Mand’alor.”

Jango laughs before he can stop himself, but it’s a bitter thing. “I’m not the Mand’alor. I have no people to lead.”

Kenobi’s frown only deepens as they steer the shuttle into Concordia’s atmosphere. “Perhaps we should discuss this when you’re not spiced burnt.”

He can’t but agree. “None of this explains how your master knew to arrange all of this, if you hadn’t rendezvoused with him.”

“Ah, well, I sent him a coded communication before um... finding this shuttle, and he only got back to me while I was searching the cells for you.”

“You stole this?”

“Listen, I was on a time crunch! I was going to give it back!”

Despite his better judgment, Jango lets himself go boneless and laughs, the reality of the situation maybe finally hitting him. The disgruntled pout Kenobi sports as they contact the nearest spaceport only makes him laugh harder.

Master Windu is waiting for them when Obi-Wan lowers the shuttle gangway, along with a flock of medical personnel and an Arconan with a datapad that reeks of Republic Judiciary.

Everything Obi-Wan had told Jango had been the truth, except that his master had been able to comm him after he had nicked the shuttle and left atmosphere; he’d had no doubt that Windu would come through, of course, even on Obi-Wan’s rather strange and specific request for Dr. Vau, but, well, Obi-Wan still disembarks with the freed slaves expecting a swift dismissal from the Order.

It’s worth it, he tells himself, watching Vau make a beeline to Jango Fett and knowing he’ll be in good hands. It’s worth it, Obi-Wan repeats to himself on loop as he slides his soft hat from his head and fixes his Korun padawan chain back behind his ear. This is far from the first time Obi-Wan has gone off script, has let his emotions get the better of him and acted against the wishes of a master, but it’s worth it, he tries to convince himself as he meets Master Windu in the middle of the flurry of activity of the hangar.

He twists his hat in his hands and immediately bends forward into a bow. “I’m sorry, Master Windu,” Obi-Wan says quietly, and means it: how many padawans could say they had disappointed two masters thoroughly enough to be kicked out of the Jedi thrice?

None, he knows.

“I acted without thinking, I—”

“It seemed to me that you acted with quite a bit of thought, padawan,” Master Windu says smoothly, a large hand settling on Obi-Wan’s shoulder. “Your communication was most thorough.”

Obi-Wan wets his dry lips and keeps his gaze firmly on his boots. “I know I’m not supposed to lose myself in my feelings, to act as if they are fact, but there wasn’t time, and I—”

“Obi-Wan.”

Snapping his mouth closed, he braces himself for the disappointment, the dismissal, but instead, Windu just sighs, and Obi-Wan only gets concern and apology from their training bond.

“Obi-Wan, can you look at me?”

He tries, he really does, but something seems to lock Obi-Wan in place, terrified of seeing that disappointment on the face of a master he’s only had for two years, after Master Jinn had dropped him.

Despite his fear, Windu isn’t angry when he doesn’t raise his head. “Padawan, the Force is not trying to catch you in a lie. For all that it tests us and pushes us, it would not show you things —past, present, future, or, yes, just feelings— if it did not deem them important. It is how you act that decides the future, not just what you see in visions.”

“Mas... Master Jinn always said to focus on the now,” Obi-Wan mumbles, remembering the sorts of mantras he would meditate on while Jinn’s apprentice.

Windu hmms. “And, in some facsimile, he was correct. No, let me explain myself,” he says, holding up a hand to halt Obi-Wan’s confused protest. “There is danger in getting lost in visions, Obi-Wan, of focusing so much on the future that one forgets to live in the present; this is what Qui-Gon refers to. As I’m sure you realised, Qui-Gon is exceedingly strong in the Living Force, yes?” Obi-Wan nods hesitantly, and Windu smiles at him. “The philosophies he subscribes to, on top of not being particularly prescient himself, puts awareness of the world around you above all else; you can see why it would be difficult for him to understand how those like you, like myself, could give that awareness up for even a moment.”

“But isn’t letting go...”

His smile turns rueful. “Ah, and now you see the Council’s frustration with him, for all that he is a magnificent Jedi.”

Shuffling awkwardly, Obi-Wan resists the urge to tug on his padawan chain like he would his braid, and settles for wrapping it loosely around his finger. “You are not upset?”

“Not with you,” he is quick to confirm. “You saved fifteen people’s lives today, Obi-Wan,” he gestures around them, “and allowed the arrest of several notorious spice runners. Yes, perhaps you acted rashly, but as you said: there was hardly time to hesitate. What matters is that you learn to discern when to act, and when to slow down.”

“... I shouldn’t ignore them?”

Windu blinks down at him, surprise quickly smoothing into something too tense to be entirely serene. “Ignore your visions? No more than I should attempt to ignore shatterpoints: the Force would not make us strong in abilities we couldn’t learn to control. I find I must apologise, padawan, I did not realise Qui-Gon... worked with you so little on your prescience; such an oversight is not one you should have had to worry about.”

Obi-Wan swallows, floundering for words, and absolutely does not know what to do with Windu’s easy acceptance and understanding despite Obi-Wan having spent the last few years hiding his visions and lying about his dreams.

“But now is not the time to delve into this, nor worry about how we will move forward.” Unfolding a brown cloth from over his arm, Windu holds out what Obi-Wan realises is his robe, that he had thought lost when he was separated from his master. Windu waits for him to put it on to gently start herding him towards the ship they had first come to Mandalore on, and quietly starts catching Obi-Wan up on all that he had missed.

He doesn’t know what to make of feeling Jango Fett’s eyes on him from across the hangar; nor the intensity with which they follow him until the ship’s hatch closes behind him.

(this took four iterations to write and i’m still not quite satisfied, but i’m very attached to obi-wan having a chain/beads instead of a braid after Melida/Daan; the lil wish-you-would-write snippet happens a few months before this!

thank you for the prompt and y’all’s patience! obi-wan has brown eyes now because you can’t stop me)

*hallikset a seven-stringed instrument that i think is just legends now. but cal plays one!

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imagining-in-the-margins · 3 years

Text

Petty Pair (Raymond/F!Reader)

Summary: Reader wants to fuck Raymond to spite his father. Raymond thinks that’s really hot, actually.

A/N: This idea came into my head and literally never left. It lives rent free in my head, and I hope you feel it now, too. Couple: Raymond/Fem!Reader Category: Smut (NSFW) Content Warning: Fingering, penetrative sex, protected sex, mild exhibitionism, getting caught Word Count: 5k

MASTERLIST

——————

There was a grand total of one functioning bar in this town at this hour of night. This drastic and unforgivable shortage of places for me to buy alcohol was also the only reason I found myself frequenting said bar.

After about an hour of swatting off a group of men that were objectively disgusting, I resigned myself to fate and the realization that the night would turn out no better than it would have if I hadn’t tried to get drunk on cheap liquor. I was ready to pack up, close out, and fuck off back home when it happened.

A familiar face walked through the door. Familiar, I suppose, was a stretch. I’d only seen his face in one picture – a picture I’m pretty sure was meant to be thrown away. It stuck out to me because it was the first indication that I got that Donald Wadsworth had a son. And a cute son, much less.

My brain scanned through buried memories to try and find the one where his recently divorced mother had told me his name. I knew the memory existed somewhere, surrounded under a mountain of bullshit, but it was so hard to focus when I was watching the poor kid shuffle over to the bar and plop himself down against the counter.

It had taken me that long to realize that he was wearing pajamas. Cute.

His fashion choices and bedhead paired nicely with the pout he wore when he shyly scanned the room. Altogether, everything about him assured me that he literally couldn’t have been less intimidating if he tried. That theory was further solidified by the way he shrunk against the counter when he saw me approach. By the time I sat down next to him, he’d all but disappeared under his jacket.

“Hey, you’re... Raymond, right?” The name came to me at the same time his eyes locked with mine. The dark hazel color shone almost gold in the orange hue of the bar.

“You’re Donald’s son?” I asked as warmly as possible while using his father’s name. Which is to say, not warm at all.

“Unfortunately,” Raymond droned with a similar disdain.

“I’ll say,” I chuckled as I leaned forward to match his slouch over the bar. “I work with your dad.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, me too.”

That alone seemed to cause a shift in his entire demeanor. It didn’t surprise me. Most of the women in this town were brainwashed into thinking that if a guy didn’t outright assault you at first glance, he was probably a solid dude.

And Donald Wadsworth was not a solid dude.

“He’s like, a giant fucking asshole,” I said.

Raymond’s eyes lit up.

“Right?!” he shouted back, practically falling from his seat in his enthusiasm as he continued to yell, “I know!”

There was no keeping it together with this caricature of a man, but I didn’t really want to, either. In the few seconds I’d interacted with him, everything about him changed from defensive to relaxed. Like all he needed was someone to tell him that it wasn’t all in his head.

Unfortunately, I was going to need to ask something of him. But I figured he wouldn’t mind what I was going to request.

“But hey, that’s actually why I wanted to talk to you. I have a favor to ask you.” I kept my tone even and nonchalant, trying to avoid coming off as parental.

He eyed me as warily as I expected, tugging his drink a little bit closer as he started to shrink in on himself again.

“I’m gonna be honest,” he mumbled, “there’s not really anything I can do to hurt him that I haven’t already tried.”

There was no need for self-degradation. Raymond might have thought he tried everything, but from his body language around a woman, it was safe to assume he’d never tried my plan.

“Wanna bet?”

Raymond sighed in surrender before he shrugged, “Sure. What’s the favor?”

“I want you to fuck me.”

It wasn’t my intention to wait until the drink was in his mouth before I spoke, but it was how it ended up happening. And almost instantaneously, he spat the drink out over the bar before calmly squeaking, “I’m sorry, what?”

“I want to have sex with you,” I repeated like it was the most normal thing in the world. Then I sought confirmation that was only a little important in the grand scheme of things. “You’re staying at his place, right?”

“Just for tonight, yeah—" he started, but all I heard was the ding of a checkmark on my mental list that meant we were cleared for the next step.

“Great. We should do it there, then. Tonight.”

Raymond’s tongue stuck out from between his teeth, the visual of restraint matching his narrowed, shifty eyes and fidgety legs.

“I feel like I’m missing something...” he muttered.

I heard him, but I didn’t really care. The clock was running, and I was ready to get something good out of this night. Possibly even two good things, if he ended up being as helpful as his cute, submissive demeanor implied.

“I’ll drive. You want to go now?”

“I— I mean, sure, yeah,” he stumbled over the words and his own feet as he left the bar. “We can… go have sex.”

I laughed at how cool he tried to sound because he definitely failed. I reached past him to drop cash on the bar and grabbed his hand on the way back. The amount of warmth stormed it in was shocking, considering all the blood seemed to be in his face, ears, and the tent in his pants. But the comfort of his fingers interlocking with mine on instinct did more for me than he knew.

“Great. Let’s go.”

Raymond was silent on the way out and into the car, which was about what I expected from him. Every glance his way would show the gears slowly turning in his head, like he was still trying to grasp whether my proposition was serious. Like I was trying to murder him or something.

When the car started, so did some sliver of confidence in him, although he still cleared his throat before he asked, “Do you need directions, or…?”

“No, I’ve been to his place before.”

That caution and suspicion returned and multiplied, and before I even pulled out of the parking lot he had shrugged down in the seat and buried his face in his hands.

“Please tell me you didn’t fuck my dad,” he whined in the most dramatic manner possible.

I couldn’t blame him for the theatrics, although the implication was not at all appreciated.

“Absolutely the fuck not,” I spat, my face curling into a pure expression of disgust. At least we both felt similarly on that note.

“Thank god.” The relief flowed through him, allowing him to sit back up to his previously half-straight position. I decided that it was probably best to cut him some slack for assuming I would ever fuck that devil of a man, because I got the sinking suspicion that he might have known a couple girls his age that had done exactly that.

That thought led me back to the very reason I was there at all, and a chill ran down my spine as I muttered without thinking, “Wasn’t for a lack of his trying, though.”

The whole tone in the car shifted in seconds. One glance over at Raymond confirmed the repressed rage and sadness rolling off of him in waves that were more accurately described as a tsunami.

It was just unsettling enough that I snapped my eyes back to the road, giving a nervous chuckle to tell him that it wasn’t that serious. I didn’t need him to defend my honor, or anything. It did enough to quell most of the rage, but that self-pitying sadness was still there when he let out a shy, quiet plea.

“I don’t want to pry but… Will you tell me what this is about?”

“You really want to know?”

It was one thing to know the vague generalities of how much his father sucked, but another thing entirely to paint him a vivid depiction of what he was willing to do.

“Yeah,” he said with fiddling hands, “I think.”

I think he was trying to do me a favor. I think listening to my story was meant to be a sign to me that there were people who would care — people who would believe me. He clearly didn’t actually want to hear the story, but I appreciated his willingness to experience some discomfort to make up just a small part of his father’s misdeeds.

“So, I’m new at the school, right? It’s awkward. It’s a small town and everyone knows everyone,” I started, trying to look over at Raymond whenever I could to show him that I was doing alright. The poor thing looked like he needed the reassurance more than I did.

“Your dad very quickly tried to take me under his wing, despite my very obvious discomfort.”

“Sounds like him,” he interrupted with a pissed-off murmur.

“Yeah. I just kind of accepted his help because I was too scared to say no, but then one day he…” My voice trailed off, the words getting clogged in my throat and muddled on my tongue. It wasn’t that bad of a story; it should have been easier to explain. But something about Raymond being there, him listening to me so intently and with such a strong desire to make it better, that made it hard to speak. Eventually, I managed to start again. “He cornered me in the damn teacher’s lounge and—“

“Please don’t give me a reason to kill him. I’ve been toeing that line my whole life, and I will definitely do it.”

That time when Raymond cut me off, it was very clear to me that he was not kidding. He enunciated the words so clearly, venom dripping from his tongue and his chest heaving with a determination coming through clear, despite his best efforts to hide it.

He was a sweet kid.

“He didn’t try to touch me or anything. It wasn’t like that,” I said with an awkward smile, reaching over to pat his thigh. The action alone seemed to calm him, almost like a dog that was being told to stand down.

He was a really cute kid.

But I had to finish this stupid story. I had to give him all the information so that he would know exactly why I’d invited myself into his bed. Sex is sort of a big deal, you know? I mean, not always, but the other party in spite sex should probably know who exactly the target is.

“He just made it very clear that he felt I owed him something, and I kindly told him to fuck off,” I concluded just as we pulled up the dirt drive. The bumps in the road seemed to shake some other memories in Raymond, and he just shook his head to rid himself of those, along with the story he’d just heard.

He looked over at me with a new understanding and something else.

“So that’s what this is about?”

“Yep,” I said with a pop of my lips to match the sound of my car door opening. He clambered out of the car much less gracefully, which was funny considering he’d had significantly less to drink.

But I figured I would have the decency not to laugh, instead just joining him on the passenger side of the car to finish our conversation before we went inside. I wanted to give him the chance to change his mind. I wouldn’t have blamed him. Although I was the one who would have to deal with the brunt of the downfall, Donald wasn’t my family. Like, I wouldn’t be at his holiday dinners. Then again, I’m not sure Raymond would be, either.

When I looked up from the thought, Raymond was staring at me. It wasn’t like before, though. There was nothing suspicious or any sign of concern in his eyes. No, they were filled with a very different feeling.

“You want to fuck me just to spite my dad?” he asked with a deadly seriousness.

I thought about it for exactly one second before I shrugged at the extremely accurate summary.

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“God,” Raymond practically groaned, throwing himself on me and pinning me against the car with his hips before he growled, “that’s so fucking hot.”

Those same lips that produced the words quickly covered mine with the same force he’d used to pin me against the metal. I didn’t fight him at first because, well, I didn’t want to. It was the first clear sign he’d given that he really wanted to do this, and who was I to argue with how he expressed his consent?

Also, he was like, a really, really good kisser. The desperation he felt came through in his tongue as it tangled with mine, drawing a quiet, muffled moan from me that alerted me to how quickly this would escalate if I didn’t shove the boy off me.

Which, I did.

“Raymond— inside,” I ordered with the little breath I had left.

He was confused for a second, almost like he’d blacked out in the meantime. But then his tongue swept over his lips, his hands digging through his pockets for his keys before he hastily answered, “Right. Let’s go.”

It made sense to be quiet then, as the two of us tip-toed through the much too large house. Our occasional giggles were louder than our feet, and the whole experience was seriously reminiscent of sneaking into your boyfriend’s house as a teenager. And when we walked through his bedroom door, the sight stirred up even older memories. From the UFO poster and alien sheets to the boxes filled with dinosaur toys and action figures, I felt like I’d walked straight through a time machine into Raymond’s childhood.

“Sorry about… all of this,” he said with an overly apologetic tone, like this scene didn’t perfectly suit what I was planning. Like it wouldn’t be salt in the wound for Donald to see me fucking his son in the most juvenile room I’ve ever seen in my life.

“Ugh, it’s perfect. You are literally a man-child.”

I didn’t mean it as an insult, but his nervous shifting told me he took it that way. But when I kicked off my shoes and started to disrobe my outer layers, it was becoming obvious to him again just how serious I was about this whole thing.

“Sorry, but—“

“Stop saying sorry, Raymond.”

“Sorry,” he squeaked back, doing the exact thing I’d just told him not to do. I shot him a warning glance and watched the way his Adam’s apple bobbed in return. Then, still worrying the hem of his pajama shirt between his fingers, he looked away as he asked, “Are you sure you actually want to have sex with me?”

I was a little too busy at first to answer him. I was already rustling through the bedside table to find a condom that I was absolutely positive would be there. When I finally found it, I turned my attention back to the blushing boy.

“Why are you asking? Do you want to have sex with me?”

“Yes!” he answered with a clear excitement, only to lose it immediately. “But I would have wanted to have sex with you even if my dad wasn’t a pervert.”

“Awww, thanks,” I cooed with feigned sincerity. Raymond was still just pouting, though. I was learning more each second just how starved of affirmation this boy had been. But it wasn’t like I could just start praising him; the poor thing would have whiplash if I wasn’t careful. There was no worse mood-killer than crying, either, so I settled for a joke.

“I’d probably have sex with you, too.”

“Probably?” he responded with a smile and a seat next to me.

“It’s pretty likely, depending on how much we talked first,” I explained as I helped him out of his coat. I even managed to start undoing his pajama top buttons before he realized it was happening.

He didn’t stop me when he did.

“I don’t know if that’s an insult or not,” he said, instead.

With a coquettish grin, I leaned in to whisper against his lips, “And you never will.”

There was absolutely no resistance from Raymond when I grabbed hold of his collar, tugging him on top of me as I laid down on the tiny twin bed. Despite all of his insecurity, he didn’t hesitate to kiss me again, either. This time it was somehow even more heated, like he was trying to pour all of his heart into it.

I almost warned him that he had better cool it if he didn’t want to risk getting me hooked, but I was too late. He was already busy undoing the buttons on my own top and gently kneading my chest through the fabric of my bra, and I was quickly losing track of which of us was more into what was happening.

It didn’t really matter, but just in case he was still worried that I might not want to be there, I snuck my hand down and under the waistband of his pajamas.

“Fuck!” he cursed in a hushed whisper, his body buckling forward far enough that he almost dropped all his weight on me. It was so damn cute that I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Don’t be too loud or we’ll never get to the fun part,” I warned, my voice barely a whisper in his ear.

His very eloquent response was a breathless, “Shit.” I couldn’t blame him, though. It was honestly more than I expected him to be able to enunciate when I grabbed hold of his dick and began making soft strokes.

It was obvious that he was trying very hard to stay quiet, but the whimpers and whines were falling from his mouth so quickly that I was forced to kiss him just to muffle the noise. Thankfully, Raymond took the hint that he needed to be quiet and decided to redirect the attention from himself back to me. He accomplished that task by pulling away from me just far enough that he could grab hold of my pants and underwear and roughly pull them down my thighs. The speed and force lit a fire deep in my gut, my whole body breaking out in goosebumps as I allowed myself to enjoy just how badly he wanted me. I’m sure the spite thing had a lot to do with it, too, but it had been a long time since a man was so clearly into me. It was an unavoidable conclusion in every touch from him.

A much-too-loud moan caught in my throat when he returned, slipping his fingers into my heat as he laid another feverish kiss against my lips. But it broke almost immediately with his own choked moan, followed by a low, breathy observation.

“You weren’t kidding about wanting this.”

“Nope,” I replied quickly, trying to control the noises coming out of my mouth by replacing them with words. It only sort of worked when I keened, “Fuck, you’re better at this than I thought.”

Raymond didn’t even stop, continuing to curl his fingers inside of me with each thrust. He did smile, though. A cheeky, borderline annoying smile that told me he knew what a bastard he was being.

“Again, I can’t tell if that is a compliment,” he said with an overwhelming amount of sarcasm as he watched me squirm under him.

I chose to ignore the taunt, opting to grab the condom from the bedside table and throw it directly at his face instead. “Put the fucking condom on, Raymond.”

There was less commentary from the peanut gallery from that point on. I did enjoy the show, though. As I removed my bra, I watched with rapt fascination as he stripped himself of his clothes. My desire grew at an exponential rate at the sight of him slipping the condom on. I’d gotten some idea of the size of him with my hand, but to see something so lewd in such an innocent room and on his shy little figure was something else.

Raymond shrunk a little under my gaze, only regaining his confidence when he saw the way my teeth dragged over my bottom lip. I ran my hands over my body that was still on display for him, thoroughly enjoying the way I could make his eyes go wherever I wanted with such a simple motion.

“Fuck me, Raymond.”

I heard his breath catch and watched the shiver flow through him at the order. Sure enough, he started to follow my instructions and lined himself up at my entrance with adorably shaky hands. But then, right before I got what I came for, he paused.

“Are you su—“

I was tired of waiting. Hooking my leg around his waist, I forced Raymond to thrust forward. My assistance didn’t take any of the pleasure out of it when he was finally, fully inside of me. I couldn’t stop the way my back arched, pressing my chest against his with a wanton cry.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he mumbled into my hair, burying his face in the crook of my neck as he adjusted to the new set of sensations.

I only gave him a few seconds to get used to it, fully ready to get the release that already felt so close.

“Fuck me,” I whined, already starting to roll my hips against the boy blubbering curses into my skin.

“O-Okay,” he muttered in the most adorable fashion.

That shyness was contrasted strongly by what followed. For all his whimpers and trembling, Raymond didn’t seem to mind the way the bed would creak under us. In fact, it seemed that he was playing his own game, trying to elicit as many noises from me as he could get from the bed.

On instinct, my hands rose to try to still the headboard. But to my surprise, they never made it. The man above me had grabbed hold of one wrist, pinning it against the pillow to stop me. That simple, thoughtful act was enough to almost send me over the edge right then, but I held on for what I knew would come.

My moans were another story. They seemed so inevitable, with Raymond slamming into me with a progressively rougher force until I rode that line between pain and pleasure. I could see it on his face, too, that we were barreling full speed to the inevitable.

So, it was as good a time as any for me to set the next step in motion. With full volume and a pitch nearly an octave higher than usual, I screamed, “Yes, Raymond!”

That cheeky little bastard laughed. That noise was such music to my ears, that I couldn’t just stop there.

“God, yes! Fuck me harder!” I cried dramatically while drawing out the words. In a way, I was over exaggerating for effect, but I was also actually having a great time. In fact, it was the best sex I’d had in a long time.

Raymond, catching on to the plan that I’d never explicitly explained, joined in with his own chant of my name, mixed with deep moans rumbling in his chest. I ran my nails down his back, seeking to elicit the higher pitched sounds I knew he was capable of when I realized just how much fun I was having with him.

It was also, of course, super fucking hot. But how often do you get to have this much fun with a random one night stand you found at the bar? Not often enough, I decided.

“Please, Raymond! Harder!” I begged, both in accordance with my previous moans and also because it was what I needed.

I couldn’t decide on a word to describe that wild look on his face, but Raymond had no problem following through with my request. Releasing my wrist, he sat up on his knees, grabbing hold of my hips and lifting them so that he could come down between them at a new angle.

That angle, it seemed, left him bottoming out inside of me with each brutal thrust. My legs were actually shaking around him, my back barely touching the bed as I threw my head back on that damn alien pillowcase.

The clacking of the headboard against the plaster shook the hung UFO picture, which ended up clattering behind it with about as much grace and subtlety as Raymond and I shared in that moment.

But that crashing also masked the sound of the door slamming open, just as I’d been waiting for. And for a long moment, neither of us even looked over to the light filtering in from the hallway. Instead, we locked eyes with each other as the two of us simultaneously reached our peak.

I was so, so glad that I didn’t look away. I kept my eyes firmly on Raymond as he threw his head back, forcing himself as deep in me as he could and holding me against him as I nursed him through his orgasm with my own. His mouth, though dropped open, was curved in a satisfied smile, one last moan tearing through the two of us before he promptly collapsed on top of me.

Then, it finally came. Donald’s voice bellowing, “What the fuck is going on in here?!”

—

As Raymond and I sat in my car that night, there was a much more relaxed atmosphere. Whether the catharsis was from the sex or the big fuck you to his father, the two of us were just basking in the afterglow of the overall experience.

Of course, he was also laughing at the fact I was currently wrapped up in his alien bedsheet.

“We could’ve gotten your clothes, you know.”

“There was no way in hell I was going to drop this sheet in front of that man,” I said through my laughter, my mind replaying the chaos of the last few minutes over again in my head.

“Probably a good call,” Raymond answered.

But then another thought occurred to me, which caused my face to contort into a disgusted grimace.

“You’d better go get my underwear and bra later, though. He cannot keep those.”

“Will do. Promise,” he said with a little nod that ended with him staring at me with an absolutely smitten look plastered on his face.

“You can keep them, though,” I offered, reaching over and pretending like I could actually fix the birds nest on his head.

“Thanks. I’m flattered,” he said while chasing after my hand that eventually settled on his cheek. His face was still flushed, his eyes still only half opened as he nearly fell asleep against my palm. I wondered if it was from the orgasm, or if it was just the first time in a while he’d felt safe enough to do it. He must’ve seen the worry in my eyes, because he interrupted the thought with another question.

“Did you accomplish your goal?”

I thought about it for a second, dragging my fingers down his face before I pulled back with a sigh. “I feel satisfied,” I decided. “What about you?”

Raymond also took the chance to think about it before he nodded with more enthusiasm than before.

“I feel pretty good,” he said proudly.

“That’s all? Just pretty good?” I replied with an annoyed click of my tongue. I mean, I was wrapped in his bedsheets after just helping him achieve one of the most satisfying catharses of his life, and all he had to say was ‘pretty good?’

But then I saw it, that little sparkle in his eyes that showed me he just wanted to rile me up before he gave his real answer.

“It was fucking glorious.”

It wasn’t even the words that filled my heart with pride, but the way his whole expression softened as he said it. He obviously meant it with every fiber of his being, and I couldn’t help but fall in love a little bit at the sight.

“Sorry I got you kicked out,” I said to distract myself from that dangerous line of thought.

“Not the first time. Hopefully the last,” he nonchalantly shrugged as I turned the key in the ignition. We hadn’t actually planned on what to do from this point, but I certainly had some ideas.

“You can stay at my place,” I slurred through my exhaustion, “I have a guest bedroom if you feel weird staying in mine.”

But Raymond didn’t answer. He just laughed, shaking his head and rubbing a heavy hand over his tired eyes.

“What?” I asked, a little worried I’d made a mistake.

“Nothing,” he reassured with that stupid fucking grin that was soon aimed straight at me, “it’s just… You’re asking me if I want to sleep with you. Again.”

“Yeah, what about it?” I laughed, turning to pull out of the driveway. The bumps didn’t bother Raymond that time.

“I’d love to,” he said as we turned onto the main road, his hand finding mine on the gear shift.

“Great.” Allowing the relief to flow through his hand and into me, I realized that the reason I’d had so much fun with this random one night stand was because a large part of me knew it was never going to be just that.

“You know, my bed’s not a twin, and it doesn’t creak, so…” I trailed off, hoping that he would be clever enough to put it together.

“So what?”

He was not. But that was okay, because I realized that was exactly what I loved about him.

“Never mind,” I sighed, “I’ll show you in the morning.”

——————————————————

(Tell me what you thought of this piece here!)

#raymond wadsworth #suburban gothic #suburban gothic fanfic #mgg fanfiction #mgg fanfic #matthew gray gubler fanfic #raymond wadsworth fanfic #raymond wadsworth fanfiction

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chickwiththepurpleguitar · 3 years

Note

For a prompt, maybe Bobby having a job in high school where he teaches guitar to kids and Emily and Mitch mistakenly sign Luke up for lessons? (Bobby just doesn't sound like a teenager on the phone) Belated congratulations on the 500 milestone, btw ✨

Here you go, friend! I hope you like it! My first jatp AU fic lol :)

Read on ao3 here:

Here’s the thing: Luke already knows how to play the guitar.

Has he ever taken a lesson? Officially? No, of course not, because he’s not a nerd. But he’s been learning from YouTube tutorials for almost six years now, been writing his own stuff for four, been the lead singer and guitarist of an epic, legendary rock band for two. He’d say he’s pretty well covered in the “knowing how to play the guitar” department, without some crusty old guy showing him the chords to songs no one’s listened to since the 60s in the grimy basement of a church two hours a week.

And yet, here he stands, on the sidewalk outside said church, guitar case in hand and a truly menacing grimace on his face, staring up at the hand-painted sign on the door detailing “Guitar lessons for kids! Room B38” in big block letters.

“Well?” Alex, who drove Luke here because Luke is currently not on speaking terms with his mother and father out of pure unadulterated spite, claps a hand on his shoulder, already stifling giggles. “You ready for your lesson, kiddo?”

“I will kick you out of the band,” Luke threatens.

“Then you can walk home.” Alex jingles his keys teasingly, then tugs Luke into a quick hug. “Come on, man, I think it was a nice gesture. Try to make the most of it, at least your parents are trying.”

Right, because the whole reason Luke’s here is because his mom thought the lessons would be a good reward for Luke passing all his classes this semester. Because she heard him complaining that Sunset Curve needed a rhythm guitarist to fill out their sound and decided that meant he needed to learn how to do it himself, even though Luke tried to explain to her that he couldn’t play rhythm guitar and face-melting solos at the same time.

Of course, she didn’t listen, and then his dad found a flyer for this guy Robert giving lessons out of the local church, and before Luke could say no, the first month’s worth were already paid for and he didn’t have a choice.

And he supposes Alex is sort of right. At least his parents know what a guitar is. At least they’re trying to be somewhat, relatively supportive of his music, instead of pushing him to apply to college or get a job over the summer like they did constantly until he ran away for six months after Christmas and almost died (he’s fine now, but that near-death experience really changed his parents’ tune).

At least they actually acknowledge that he’s in a band at all, unlike Alex’s folks, whose friends think Alex volunteers at homeless shelters in his free time, or Reggie’s, who just don’t care.

Luke knows he’s got it good, compared to his friends, compared to himself a year ago. But that doesn’t mean he’s gotta be happy about it.

“All right, I’ll pick you up in an hour,” Alex says, giving Luke’s shoulder another friendly squeeze. “Try not to pout so much, it’s unbecoming.”

Luke gives him the finger, and Alex’s laughter echoes behind him as he heads back toward his car.

And then Luke sighs, grips his guitar a little tighter, and heads inside. He’s already here, he might as well get it over with.

Room B38 is a tiny classroom deep in the bowels of the church, reserved for Sunday School or daycare or some other such activity. The door’s closed, so Luke knocks, and a voice from inside calls, “Come in!”

A voice that does not sound like it belongs to the crusty old man Luke had been picturing.

He frowns, wondering if maybe he’s in the wrong place, but tugs the door open anyway and maneuvers himself and his guitar inside.

There’s no crusty old man waiting for him. There is, however, a handsome (Luke can’t help noticing and then feels stupid for noticing), young man, no more than a year or two older than Luke at most, sitting in a comically small plastic chair and tuning an acoustic guitar.

“Hey,” Luke greets him, raising an awkward hand. “You’re… Robert?”

“Please—Bobby,” the guy corrects, laying his guitar down on the carpeted floor next to him so he can stand and shake Luke’s hand. There’s a gleam of confusion in his eyes, and he glances over Luke’s shoulder like he’s looking for something as he says, “You must be Luke’s… older brother?”

Oh, Luke is going to kill his parents. “Uh, no,” he says, clears his throat awkwardly. “No, um… I’m Luke.”

Bobby lets out an undignified snort, and then claps his hand over his mouth. “Sorry, sorry,” he says, still sort of giggling. “I shouldn’t laugh, it’s just—most of my students are in the four to twelve age range? I thought you’d be, like, eight.”

Luke rolls his eyes. “Well, I thought you’d be, like, sixty, so I guess we’re both disappointed.”

“Not disappointed,” Bobby corrects, and his smile makes Luke’s stomach flip in a way he’d really rather not analyze too closely right now. Bobby nods down at the guitar case in Luke’s hand. “Should we get started?”

Luke’s tongue feels dumb and thick in his mouth, but he manages to stammer something vaguely affirmative, and Bobby grins at him.

They settle into the kiddy chairs across from each other, and Bobby picks his guitar back up while Luke pulls his own out of its case.

He briefly considers pretending to actually need guitar lessons so that Bobby will have a chance to show off, because Bobby’s cute and funny and clearly cares about music, and Luke doesn’t know how to flirt.

But Luke also doesn’t know how to play guitar badly. So they only get about twenty minutes into the lesson before Bobby stops and says, “You don’t need me, do you?”

“I really don’t,” Luke apologizes. “I play lead guitar in a band, I’ve been teaching myself since I was twelve, my parents are just—” he starts to say stupid, then remembers Alex’s words and amends—“a little clueless about this kind of thing.”

Bobby puts his guitar aside and leans forward in his chair. “What, have they never heard you play before?”

Luke resists the urge to roll his eyes. “No, they have, they just. We’re looking for someone—my band and me—to play rhythm guitar for us? My parents asked why I couldn’t do it, and when I explained it to them, they thought ‘I can’t play lead and rhythm at the same time’ meant I couldn’t play rhythm at all. I don’t know.” He shrugs a little, busies himself with putting his guitar back in its case.

“I could.”

Luke looks up, frowning. “You could what?”

Bobby raises his eyebrows pointedly, nods at the guitar lying at his feet. “Play with you guys. If you’re still looking for someone, I mean.”

Luke’s heart skips a beat, and a warm smile spreads across his face without his permission. “Seriously, man? That’d be amazing! Here, let me give you my number and you can come over sometime and meet the band.”

They exchange information, and Luke spends a little too long staring stupidly at the contact in his phone that Bobby has named “Guitar Teacher <3”.

“Plus,” Bobby says, and Luke looks back up to see him smirking as he returns his own phone to his pocket. “Now I get an excuse to see you again. Since you obviously don’t need the lessons.”

“Yeah,” Luke agrees. “Yeah, I’d really like that.”

“But, uh, maybe don’t tell your parents that. Cause I can’t give them a refund.”

Taglist: @whenweremarried @sunsethimb0s @pink-flame @penguin0613 @fighttoshine @sunsetcurvecuddles @apples-bees @reggiescrookedteeth @brightattheorpheum @queenmolina @jandthephantoms @lexilucacia @sapphossidechick @acnhaddict @shrimp-colours @sunset-bobby @lenacarstairspotterstewart @conversationaltreestump @burntchromas @shellydominique @julieandthequeers @joyandthephantoms @it-tastes-like-lizard

#prompt fill #500 followers aaah!!#my fics #jatp #julie and the phantoms #fanfiction #jatp fandom #modern day/everybody lives au #bobby wilson #luke patterson #alex mercer #lukebobby #lobby

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scrawnytreedemon · 3 years

Text

Shit I’ve Been Winding Up For A Long Time Now But Am Very Aware Will Probably Hold No Relevance Should I Actually Go Into This More--

This is about Bhunivelze.

You know, when I was chilling out, on my bed, that evening on that half term in early June, deciding to check up on ClementJ64′s FF retrospective because-- Hey! It’s been awhile, I wonder if he’s got around to doing the final bit of the FFXIII saga --You know, I was there, chilling, just for a laff. Just a laff.

The rest of that week was spent spiralling into a hyperfixation I absolutely did not anticipate in any way, shape, or form, because the way they introduced that character was “wwhdhfjjhHJDFJKHKJHW H A T??”

That retrospective and a good amount of wiki-scrounging is all I have as a basis for this. This is not a coherent character analysis-- Though I might tag it as that for ease of access. This is not, by any means, the thoughts of someone deeply familiar with FFXIII on the whole beyond plot synopses and overarching themes.

I don’t think I’m brave enough for that.

Reading the vast yet surface-deep lore on those wiki pages on my birthday while in a delirious state of mind was enough to make me somewhat nauseous.

Do you think I’m going to go through all of that in real time?

(Someday, someday.)

Ugh, I don’t know how to begin, but let us, I guess. I’d recommend you read this church-mime-demiurge’s FF Wiki page if you want the same level of base-knowledge I had, and maybe the aformentioned retrospective if you want the experience, because I don’t think I have the wherewithal to get into all of that from the bottom-up.

I am also, so, so fucking sorry for any remaining FFXIII fans in advance. There is like, a good chance I may be butchering the characterisation completely, so bear with me here.

With that... we begin?

Where do we even start with this guy?

How on earth to you begin to explain the absolute monolith you’ve constructed from crumbs of a Guy, some material no doubt spliced in from the Pale King, Sephiroth, y o u r o w n G o d O C and other characters, and the mountains of religious trauma you carry around at all times that is probably the only reason you’ve been able to latch on as hard as you did?

I’m going to try.

What gets me, in summary, about Bhunivelze is how he’s a prime example of how love and concern can become deadly forces if in the wrong hands. His first acquainting with human emotion was by deceiving and possessing Hope, reverting his body to a teenage state, and planning to live among humanity through him. He sees human sorrow and suffering, and decides that, to End This(because it must be ended, you see) he’s going to destroy all the souls of the deceased that make up the Chaos that’s been eating this world for the past five-hundred years so they all forget and Are Happy. :).

Capital G God here hasn’t been present for the vast part of human history because he’s hidden himself away from Everything due to paranoia from killing his own mother and throwing her body into the Cosmic Basement, THEN creating the beings that would come to create humanity and OTHER beings because he didn’t have the keys to the cosmic basement. And also he believes death is a thing because she’d’ve somehow cursed all things to pass(including him) out of Spite.

Which explains why he’s so fucking averse to it and anything to do with it.

Bhunivelze, to put it lightly, is Shit at stepping into others’ shoes and Getting their experiences-- All the FalCie in FFXIII are, but him especially. It’s clear(again, in the f u c k i n g JP--) that he makes attempts to sympathise with them and does what he can to help, but it’s with such a loftiness and a complete inability to Understand why anyone would want grief, The Worst Fucking Experience In Existence, and even less why they’d be willing to Go Up Against Him And HisThe New Perfect World just for it-- And what would it matter, anyway, forgetting their loved ones. It’s not like you can grieve lost memories, right?

Right.

It reminds me of when at the end of the story of Job in the Bible, where, after putting this man through hell on earth, God rewards Job by giving him ten new children to make up for the ones that he lost. I. And that’s fucked! Nothing can replace the sheer uniqueness of each individual person you loved so dearly! But if you were a nigh-omnipotent deity high and mighty, with a cursory, almost mechanical knowledge on the functionings of the human psyche, that would seem adequete; enough.

Bhunivelze is doing that on a cosmic level.

I now want to get onto the romance: that being, his affections for Lightning. I don’t know how much I’m going to say, but it’ll probably be alot. It’s something that hits very close to home.

There is this... thing, within certain branches of Christianity, perhaps even in those of various Abrahamic faiths, where God’s love is posited to be the love-- The ultimate, most-fulfilling, all-encompassing love you could ever imagine --Because, well, he is love, so the story goes, and so often the best way to convey that is through the imagery of...

Marriage.

Giving up yourself so completely, to serve, to be the Bride; to be bound by him for all eternity; and for there to be no higher bliss than this.

This angle is pushed on young girls and women the most; from the mere parallels to the woman’s role in marriage, all the way down to downright-horrifying ultra-Evangelical purity pacts. With men, God is your dad, your best bud and confidant, your boss, your king, your this, your that, and the ‘marriage‘ as it were is relegated to a sort of half-thought; a metaphor.

For me, God was an attempt at all that, and my arranged groom.

(It was almost incestuous; was incestuous, that my own Divine Father would reach for my hand in marriage.)

Bhunivelze experiences Emotions™ for the first time through Hope, experiences Hope’s sheer overwhelming admiration for Lighting(whether there were any baby-crush feelings mixed in, I can’t say), and promptly falls into a nigh-romantic obsession with Lightning, deciding that she will be Etro(his all-but daughter)’s replacement, will be his Goddess of Death to-be-- He even calls her as such, before the final boss-battle--

...In the JP.

What happened in localisation, probably due to a number of factors, all the way back in early 2014, was that everything emotionally challenging about Bhunivelze was scraped off, like it was extra fat, and tossed aside, leaving us with the bland, clichéd shell of a foe-god we’ve seen time and time again. And I mean everything. I mean his very love for humanity; the fact his ploy was, in his eyes, to save them. Because if they’d left that all on, then it would raise the question of even if there was such a seemingly pure, all-knowing, loving being hell-bent on setting things “straight,“ would they truly be unquestionable? Would we have the right to fight for our humanity in the face of the Creator of the Universe?

To reject a love so personal?

That’s what gets me about FFXIII’s tackling of God, no matter how hackneyed and poorly-executed. It’s personal.

It’s from a feminine experience.

I know that terming is... vague, and problematic, but the way Christianity and much of the video game industry handle femininity itself is weird and problematic, so as it stands, I’ll have to simplify it. Apologies.

What sets FFXIII’s Let’s Kill God™ plot aside from most JRPG Let’s Kill God™ plots is that with our protagonist being a woman, and one who is very in touch with her femininity alongside her sheer strength; often, in these stories, God is reduced to Yet Another Foe, expected or unexpected, and you are tasked with taking him down unquestioningly for the Good of Mankind-- You will fight God, because you are right to, and you will go man-to-man-to-however-many-men you decide to bring along for the bloodbath.

And that just, doesn’t speak to me.

Even as an Extian.

Especially as an Extian. And an AFAB one with a deeply complicated experience with my gender, at that.

Leaving Christianity was painful. Questioning God was painful. Coming to terms with the fact that I had been mentally, emotionally, and spiritually traumatised under the guise of All-Encompassing Love was so, so fucking painful. I had been taught since I was five years old to devote myself to him, spent my life desperate to feel something, anything, to stay connected because I just, I never could Feel It on a deeper level, never could Give Up Myself, all I was, couldn’t Die A Spiritual Death And Be Reborn As His Eager Vessel, thus deeming myself to be worthless and a broken vessel for years and years on end... And for all that to have been... Nothing.

Lightning is hollowed out, the shards of her dead sister ripped from her in-stasis, leaving her emotionally numb for the majority of the game, Bhunivelze sweeps it under the rug, pretends he’ll perform a miracle and return Serah to life in exchange for her compliance, then sends her on her way to do his work, all the while knowing he’s going to pull said-rug from under her and elevate her such dizzying heights in the aftermath--

That he’ll deny her humanity.

Sand down all the rough edges that make her her, and polish her up afterwards, gild her as he is gilded, make her a Goddess.

And he’ll do it all because he loves her.

You can’t fight God like you can everything else. To fight It is the fight Existence Itself; FFXIII even conveys that by making Bhunivelze’s model part of the arena; it’s baked into the fabric of the game, no matter how minute.

While Lightning Returns is far from perfect in its execution of this concept, and that in itself makes me wince, not even taking into account the horribly botched excuse for a localisation Bhunivelze endured, it speaks to me more than anything else I’ve seen so far.

And it’s helped uncover some things within me. Helped me untangle them, just a little more.

So, yeah. I have alot of Thoughts on Bhunivelze, I want to share them, and I’m kinda really sad I have no one but my currently-absent friend Vee to share them with. I could get into alot more, like his very Fucked relationship with familial bonds, and how Lightning’s role as saviour so deeply parallels the overwhelming panic and never-ending guilt of Evangelical proselytisation, but I think I’ll leave those for another time.

In short, Bhunivelze is the epitome of Divine Love gone deeply wrong; on all fronts.

And if all of that isn’t enough to intrigue you, then, in Vee’s words, Lightning and Velze are literally canon endgame Sefikura lmaOOOOOOOOOOOOOO--

#ffxiii #lightning returns #bhunivelze #analysis #scrawny speaks #scrawny rambles #this was written on and off over the course of a couple months #i know this will only get two notes #if even that #but fuck it i love this guy and i'm going to puke words for his sake #religion mention

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lloydskywalkers · 4 years

Note

hey idk if you’re doing requests but if you are can you give us the fluffy kai and lloyd sibling content we deserve?? like ummm maybe kai helping lloyd to do homework or something even tho they don’t go to school lmao 😂 i just need something pure :)

i am so very behind on replies but!! in my defense, i started a response for this, got about 10K words in, then realized i needed to give it an actual structure. this is not the 10K words one, but it is, technically, fluffy Kai and Lloyd sibling content? i hope it’s something along the lines of what you wanted :’D

Lloyd decides he wants his ear pierced at three forty-five in the debatable hours of the morning, which isn’t the oddest thing Lloyd has ever decided he desires at that time. But it isn’t usual, either, so Kai decides he probably does, at least, need to ask what brought this on as he begins superheating the edge of the needle so neither of them end up with tetanus, or something.

He’s a responsible brother, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to tell Lloyd no. That would require Kai pretending his own piercing never existed, which is impossible, since Lloyd was the one to help him out back when it got infected and Kai almost lost his entire upper ear.

“It wasn’t that bad,” Lloyd rolls his eyes. “You were just being a baby about it.”

“Oh yeah?” Kai shoots back. “Look who’s talking. I haven’t even touched your ear yet and you’re already wincing.”

“You’re taking forever,” Lloyd says testily. “Why can’t you just pierce it already?”

“Excuse me for trying to make it look good,” Kai says. “But if you really want an off-center piercing, be my guest.”

“No, no, make it look good,” Lloyd protests, straightening where he’s sitting across the bedroom floor from Kai.

Fortunately, they’re in the monastery tonight, otherwise they’d be crammed into the bathroom, or wherever else in the Bounty they wouldn’t wake everyone up. They’ve stashed away in Lloyd’s room, since he’s the furthest from Zane and therefore the least likely to be caught, if something goes wrong. Not that anything’s going to go wrong, of course, but you can never be sure, with them.

“Where’d you want it, again?” Kai asks, as he squints at the tiny earring stud they scavenged from Nya’s bag. He figures she’d support this as a worthy cause enough not to mind. Hopefully.

“On the right side?” Lloyd drums his fingers on the edge of his knee, a bit anxiously. “I sleep on my left more often, so yeah, the right. Just — just the normal ear piercing, for now.”

“For now, huh,” Kai mutters, carefully measuring out rubbing alcohol over the earring, before deciding to drown it in the bottle, for good measure.

“Well, I might decide I want another,” Lloyd crosses his arms. He winces. “Unless Sensei or the others kill me for this, first.”

“Lloyd, if piercing your ear is the worst thing you ever do as a teen, I’ll give you all the piercings you want myself,” Kai says. “And if anybody gives you trouble about it, just make some snarky comment, like, ah—”

“An earring is better to be stabbed with than a knife?”

“…FSM’s sake,” Kai sighs, staring at the bottle of rubbing alcohol and briefly entertaining how it’d taste. “Sure. Why not.”

Lloyd doesn’t look entirely reassured, even with his fun little jokes. “It is better than being stabbed with a knife, right?” he asks. “Like, I can do knife-stab pain, but I was kinda hoping it wouldn’t hurt that bad, you know…?”

Kai rolls his eyes. “It’ll hardly hurt at all,” he assures him, as he reaches for the little cotton balls and soaking one in alcohol. “I promise. You’re a ninja. With the pain tolerance you have, you’re probably not even gonna feel it.”

“Uh-huh, if you say — hey!” Lloyd flinches back from his hand, eyes wide in betrayal.

“Would you relax, it’s just the alcohol,” Kai frowns, going for his ear with the cotton ball again.

Lloyd makes a face, but lets him dab the alcohol on this time. “It’s cold,” he complains.

“Keep whining about it and we’re going back to the clip-on earring plan.”

“No, no, I want them pierced,” Lloyd says quickly. Kai smothers a laugh at how he attempts to appear relaxed, swiping the cotton ball over his earlobe once more for good measure. Satisfied that Lloyd, at least, won’t suffer any immediate crippling infections, Kai grabs for the needle they’re using, soaking the tip in alcohol.

“You…you know what you’re doing, right?” Lloyd asks, suddenly apprehensive now that the needle’s come into play.

“Of course I do, who do you think I am?” Kai says. “I pierced Nya’s ears when she was younger. I would’ve pierced Jay’s the first week we met, but he chickened out last minute.”

Lloyd presses his lips together, hiding a laugh. “If you’d come up to me with a needle the first week we met, I probably would’ve booked it, too.”

“I wasn’t bad,” Kai huffs, kneeing him in the side.

Lloyd runs a hand through his hair, spiking the edges up as he scowls, pitching his voice deeper. “I’m gonna be the green ninja, and none of you losers better get in the way—”

“I never said that!” Kai exclaims, swatting Lloyd across the head as he cackles. “You watch it, or I might slip up with the needle.”

“Sounds like something a green gi-stealer would say.”

“You’re such a brat,” Kai grumbles, hiding the heat rising in his cheeks by busying himself with the earring packaging. “I never sounded like that. And you’re one to talk, with that squeaky little evil laugh you used to do.”

“Alright, I’m dropping it, I’m dropping it,” Lloyd says hastily, his teasing faltering at the threat of turning the tables.

Kai smirks, shaking his head. “Alright,” he says, flexing his wrist once. “I’m gonna ice your ear so it’s numb, then do the actual piercing. You want a count down?”

“Surprise me,” Lloyd says, his hands fisting anxiously in the edges of his sweatshirt.

“Sure thing,” Kai nods absently. “So,” he starts conversationally, as he presses the ice to the back of Lloyd’s ear. “What did bring this on? And don’t give me the teen rebellion thing — seriously, this time.”

Lloyd hesitates, then sighs. He bites his lip, his eyes staring somewhere beyond the ceiling. “I dunno,” he mutters. “I just remembered, the other day, that I’d thought they were super cool as a kid.”

Kai stifles the urge to remind him that he’s still a kid, and continues to listen instead, nodding at him to go on.

Lloyd makes a face. “I don’t know. The mission today was — it was dumb, and I didn’t like how I felt afterwards, so I guess I wanted to do something stupid.”

“Ah,” Kai exhales quietly. He’d had a feeling it was about the mission, but he couldn’t be sure. It hadn’t even been that bad, on the whole, but the sound of Cole’s head cracking against the floor was enough to escalate it right into terrible territory.

Kai’s still thanking his stars that Cole’s got such a thick head. Concussions aren’t fun, even when they do have the chance to treat them immediately.

“I just…I thought maybe it’d be nice to mess up on purpose, for once,” Lloyd continues, his voice quiet. “When I wasn’t trying not to.”

Kai’s frown deepens at that one, his hand hovering where he’s caught the edge of Lloyd’s ear, his thumb pressed against the end of the needle. His sudden concerns over Lloyd’s potentially earring-destroying, Oni/dragon blood are swept away by the plaintively depressing tone Lloyd’s using. He opens his mouth, then shuts it, hesitating.

He understands the sentiment, of course — probably too well to really put into words. Kai’s not exactly a stranger to messing up. He’s definitely not a stranger to beating yourself up after you mess up, either. He also understands, too well, how it can all build up sometimes — the constant fear of failure, the pressure not to mess up.

Sometimes you’re just struck with the irrational desire to mess up on purpose out of pure spite. Kai gets that. And Lloyd’s at least rational enough to pick something that won’t hurt anyone, and is more likely to get a laugh out of them all, if anything. Kai tries not to roll his eyes fondly.

Plus, Kai would be lying if he said it doesn’t warm his heart that Lloyd’s come to him for it. Which he should, of course, Kai’d better have first dibs on Lloyd’s first piercing, but still. The sentiment, and all.

“Well,” Kai finally says, realizing he’s left Lloyd hanging. “I don’t know about messing up, because this looks pretty rad. But it was definitely your call, so remember to tell Sensei that when he sees it.”

“Yeah, sure.” Lloyd takes a breath, squeezing his eyes shut. “Okay, I’m ready. Stab my ear, Kai.”

“I already did, moron. Did you miss what I just said?”

Lloyd’s eyes pop open, and he blinks. “Huh? For real?”

“Told you,” Kai snorts. “Ninja pain tolerance. Ear piercing’s got nothing on Cole when he scores a hit on you in practice.”

Lloyd’s frozen for a moment, then he scurries over to the mirror, brushing his lengthening hair away so he can get a proper look at it. Kai hovers behind him, suddenly slightly anxious.

“Do you, um, do you like it? You can always take it out, if you don’t. It’ll close over on its own, and you can like, get an actual professional to do it—”

“Shut up, Kai, I love it,” Lloyd beams, tracing his finger over the little silver stud. “I look cool.”

Kai lets out a tiny breath of relief, smirking in satisfaction instead. “As close to cool as you can get, beansprout.”

“Whatever,” Lloyd rolls his eyes, before returning to admiring himself in the mirror. “You’re just jealous I have a super cool piercing, and you don’t.”

“Hey, I gave you that piercing,” Kai scowls. “Just wait until my ear finally heals, I’ll show you cool.”

“Gee, yeah, I can’t wait to see what cheap skull earring you infect yourself with this time.”

“Alright buddy, you’re toeing it dangerously close to the line,” Kai grabs Lloyd in a headlock, digging his knuckles into Lloyd’s thick hair as he yelps, struggling to pull himself free.

“Ow, hey, Kai, watch my ear—”

“Little jerk,” Kai finally releases him with a huff.

“Too bad you’re stuck with me forever,” Lloyd replies, making a face as he brushes his hair back into place.

“Plenty of time to watch you make more mistakes, then,” Kai replies, easily.

Lloyd briefly tenses up, his expression working. Kai slings an arm around his shoulder, briefly squeezing.

“It wasn’t your fault, Lloyd,” he says, gently. “Cole’s gonna tell you the same thing, ten times over.”

“Y-yeah, okay,” Lloyd murmurs, staring at the rug. “I got it.”

Kai eyes him for a brief moment, then shakes his head, carefully flicking the edge of his ear. “This, however? Is definitely your fault. So don’t go selling me out when Sensei bites your head off for it.”

“I’m not a sellout,” Lloyd huffs. “This’ll be nothing. Wait ’til you see what he says about my tattoo, that’ll be the real meltdown.”

Kai barks a laugh out at that, sweeping the cotton balls back into the bag. He then pauses, Lloyd’s word choice hitting him.

“Hey, what do you mean, your tattoo.”

“Oh, would you look at the time—”

“Lloyd, I swear to FSM, if you went and got a tattoo without me—”

#answered #ninjago #lloyd garmadon #kai smith #tumblr pleASE format this right for once #my fic #bees-go-buzz

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kenrik · 3 years

Text

I’ve written a lot of GoUta fics,

Sharing all of them here would take forever. So, just sharing my favorites!

First and foremost, however, I want to say that I adore, absolutely adore (and find myself always re-reading!) onemoreword’s works. These fics are the pinnacle of everything I could want from GoUta. The world this author has created, the grasp they have of the characters -

onemoreword’s writing is simple and straightforward, yet so beautiful, so haunting. They’re the best for me, in a ship with so many awesome authors and stories already. UwU

PrettyKittyLuvsU also holds a special place in my heart!

Their fics are just so pure and deep. Mine’s are really just surface, just to get me through my brainrot fics. 🤣 I’m trying to write stories with deeper insight into the characters in canon, but, it’s taking me forever to build a story. The rules set by the JJK world, their dynamics, the tone I want to achieve of their relationship, are all so tedious to factor in. Most of what I’ve written are AUs and fluff because I just put in the bickering and teasing and call it a day. xD

I’m trying with Still Blue, This Black Sky, but it’s a new fic. And I’ve just come up with a plot. I’m only updating once I have a draft of the entire story. Posting without one is a pain, I lost my way a lot with 01 and Cast Away.

I also reread my fics! I write fanfics after all, so I can read my HCs. Hahahaha

So, if you happen to find my fics fun to read too, we’re in the same boat! xD

Ao3 says I’ve written 21 JJK stories. 🤣🤣

This shipper’s brainrot is too real, too potent. 🤣🤣 I can’t even with my self. 🤣🤣

Here are my favorite stories to reread -

1. Drinking Parties - Canon-Compliant, Funny

A series of oneshots following GoUta go from bar to bar.

And now, there they were. At their drinking party. The drinking party where Gojo said everyone would be going to. It would be fun, he told her. Everyone would have a such a blast, he said.

Honestly, Utahime could only blame herself for being foolish enough to believe him.

This damn idiot. She thought with a glare as she slammed her mug of beer on the table.

"You're really mad." Gojo looks at her with a curiosity. "Why?"

Why? Utahime seethed. "Where the hell is everyone?!" She threw her glass at him. And his infinity just catapulted it away and made a shattering mess on the floor.

"That wasn't nice, Utahime." He shakes his head at her. "It's that time of the month, huh?"

Utahime flushes red the next second. And with an embarrassed cry, she reached out for Gojo's very own glass and flung it at him as well.

"You're paying!" She screamed at him in finality when she's gotten tired of his stupid infinity. And she drops back to her seat and yells for the waitress to serve them a round of beer.

"Drink!" She barks at him when he was just playing with his glass. "Drinking party, my ass." She grumbles to the rim of her mug. And she downed her drink in one go.

2. The Clearing - Series of AUs, Japanese Folklore AU, Samurai AU, Pirate AU

A series of AUs covering soulmates over the course of history.

(Pirate AU)

They were cruising in the high seas when Satoru was leaning on his back against a wooden pillar, idly sharpening his knife. He was whistling to himself when a crew member walks up to him with an anxiousness about him.

"Um, captain," He didn't know what to say; how to say it. "I think I found a stowaway."

Satoru turned to him with a dangerous twitch in his eye.

"What?" He spits with a venom.

And in the next instant, a woman in menswear was thrown before him at the deck.

He took it as a personal offense that anyone dared board his ship without his express approval. Let alone a woman. He spat at her gall. He would have her head, he thinks to himself in a growing spite.

"The sharks are going to be full today." He tells his crew coldly as he looked at the woman who didn't dare face him, whose angry gaze was directed to the wooden floorboards.

"Have any final words before you die?" He asks her to make peace with her inevitable demise.

And when she doesn't speak, Satoru just waves a lazy hand, signaling to his crew to just get it over with.

But before anyone could touch the woman, she speaks in a low voice, "I'll do anything."

Satoru turns to her with a confusion, with a raised brow.

"What?"

And she suddenly looks up at faces him with a fierce glare in her eyes.

"I'll do anything! So, let me stay on board!" She cries. And her hands clench against the wooden boards; the smell of the ocean consuming her; the adventure she's yearned for her whole life was so close she could taste it. "Let me stay!"

Satoru leans back, surprised.

Then, he starts to smile a sinister smile.

"Do you even know what you're saying?"

Utahime clenches her jaw.

"Do you have any idea where we're going?" He laughs at her dryly and crouches down at her; his face patronizing.

"You won't last a day with us."

"You'll get raped."

"You'll get killed."

"You might even just stub your toe and start crying for your mom." He laughs at how ridiculous she was.

Then, he pokes her cheek with the dull end of his knife.

"Don't be stupid."

I can’t even begin to say how much I love this Pirate AU. I love all the AUs in this story. I love everything I write honestly, even if it’s just plain crack. xD

But, they’re just so cute in this AU. I love them so much. And I owe readers a sequel.... 🤣🤣

3. the most valuable relationship to a sorcerer is friendship - Canon-Compliant, Friends at a wedding, Have a serious conversation, about their life as sorcerers

Uta and Satoru find themselves attending the wedding of a mutual friend.

He finds her in a bar alone, nursing a drink. And when her gaze drifts from her beverage to him, she almost spits out her drink.

"What are you doing here?!" She cried at him in dismay. And Gojo just chuckled as he approached her.

"You don't have to be so mad about it." He tells her with a small smile. "I'm on vacation."

"You take vacations?" She narrowed her eyes at him.

"Occasionally." Gojo grins at her. "Rarely." He adds. And Utahime frowns at him when he eventually says, "Mostly never."

"You here for the wedding?"

And he laughs again when Utahime just turns away with a deep sigh.

"I am." She sips her drink. And, she fights back the twitch in her eye when Gojo takes the empty seat next to her.

"Shall we go together, then?"

Utahime turns to frown at him.

"You think I came here alone?" She hisses at him in disbelief.

And Gojo just smiles at her. "Didn't you?" Then, he laughs when Utahime relents.

"Fine." She sighs. "I still can't accept that out of everyone I know, I run into you, you of all people, in Hawaii." She groaned to the heavens. And Gojo just chuckles. "In Hawaii, Gojo. Why?" She cried to the heavens for an answer. Why did they have to keep torturing her?

"Must have been something you did in a past life." Gojo offers with a laugh, resting his cheek on the palm of his hand.

Beside him, Utahime's face soured.

4. Sweet - Modern AU, Barista Utahime, Cafe Shop

Uta is worried about the health of one of her regulars.

"I can't, in good conscience, serve you anymore bubble tea."

"You took an oath or something?" He smirks. "Not to over serve poor salarymen with a sweet tooth?"

Utahime raises a brow and bites back her laugh.

"So," The man leaned over the counter with his smile, looking down at the selection of drinks in the menu laid on the bar. "What would you recommend I get?"

"An americano." She simply tells him and slips cups for a previous order into the plastic melder to seal them.

"All right." The patron smiles, too wide, and too familiar for Utahime's liking.

What was wrong with this guy, she couldn't help but frown in discomfort.

"But, add three tablespoons of honey." The man adds, and laughs at the look of disbelief on Utahime's face. "What? Honey's not sugar."

"It is..." Utahime couldn't believe this guy. "Whatever." She sighs and prepares his order. But, instead of the three spoonfulls of honey, she put a single teaspoon.

And when he drinks it in front of her, she laughs out loud at the disgusted, sour look on his face. And he demanded she give him five packets of sugar.

5. Immature - Canon-Compliant, Gojo “teasing” Utahime, First Meeting, Childhood GoUta

Uta finally meets the kid with the Six Eyes.

When the family before them leaves, when they're presented as the Iori house, Utahime is fuming red. But she bites her tongue and keeps her mouth shut in respect for her parents, for her relatives around her.

And when she sees how the six year old looked at her condescendingly, slouched forward on his seat, looking at her with his calculating eyes, seemingly appraising her; she starts to shake in a growing rage.

Then, he smirks. The six year old smirks at her.

And something inside her snaps when he tells her, when he chuckles and tells her,

"Did you know?" He smirks at her with a chuckle in his lips. "Did you know you're so weak?"

Red with rage, before her mother could stop her again, Utahime cries out and angrily grabs the empty juice box in front of her; and she throws it at the six year old; hitting him square on the face.

And he flushes. In an instant, he flushes red. A very, very angry, humiliated red.

"Utahime?!" Her mother cried out in dismay.

And Utahime had to be dragged out before she could get her claws at the six year old and set him straight.

6. Red, Blue, and The Purple Moon - Canon-compliant, Post-Shibuya Incident Arc, GoUta living together, Powerless Gojo

GoUta play house.

"Wow," She mouthed, not noticing how Gojo's face paled. "I actually got to hit you for once." She unconsciously ruffled the hair on the top of his head, making the strongest sorcerer twitch in annoyance.

"I can actually hit you, now." She suddenly gripped his head with some force. And Gojo could only look in horror at the murderous glint in her eyes.

"Utahime..." He tries to laugh it off, the growing tension in the air. And he tries to take Utahime's hands in his, tries to pull her hands off him, when Utahime suddenly looks down at him with a demented glare on her face and started chuckling.

"Gojo," She smiles at him sinisterly. "Do you remember," Her hands started to trail down from his hair, from his face to his neck. "Do you remember how you've been calling me weak since we've known each other?"

Gojo tries to smile back, tries to laugh with her; "Of course," He forces a chuckle. "We have our fun, Utahime!"

"Fun?!" Gojo sees the murderous glint flash in her eyes too late. And the next thing he knew, Utahime started choking him and shaking him like there was no tomorrow.

This is my first fic. I’ve had to rewrite this a lot, since I’m learning so much more about their world and the characters. Still, I really love this. I love the fact that Gojo is powerless. HAHAHA. I will definitely find myself editing this fic again. But I love it already as is.

While I love No Love and 01, and all the other fics, I do not like angst. Just thinking about how it’ll hurt later on is just so painful. I don’t know what’s up with people and pain, but those who’ve read my stories seem to prefer angst. The heck. 🤣 Isn’t JJK canon enough pain for you guys? 🤣🤣

#gojohime #gouta #fanfic #i wrote some #just a few #🤣🤣🤣🤣

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sou-ver-2-0 · 4 years

Text

Why calling it "logic versus emotion" makes sense

At the end of chapter 2 in Your Turn To Die, the player is forced to choose between killing Sou or Kanna. Kanna frames this as a choice between "logic" and "emotion," where saving Sou is the "logical" choice and saving Kanna is the "emotional" choice.

Personally, I love the writing in this part. I think it's the strongest writing in the whole game. However, since joining the YTTD fandom, I've read various posts from fans who don't like calling this a simple choice between "logic" and "emotion." For them, it felt like an emotional choice to save Sou, while it was a logical choice to save Kanna. After seeing this argument so many times, I decided to unpack my feelings on it. I also wanted to write my own defense of why calling this a choice between "logic" and "emotion" makes sense, at least to me. For me, it all comes down to how it’s written as a choice between two opposing worldviews, and I don’t focus on the little technicalities. I’ll also argue that the game is using descriptive language, rather than prescriptive language.

But first, we have to deal with a strange irony about this choice:

For the genre-savvy player, yes, it IS "logical" to save Kanna and "emotional" to save Sou.

Before writing anything about this choice, I need to acknowledge that Sara and the Player are two different people. They're obviously connected, and they inform each other's feelings and choices, but they still exist in different worlds. Sara is actually trapped in a Death Game. The Player is vicariously experiencing what it would be like to be trapped in a Death Game through a fictional story.

I'm not going to argue that Sara necessarily likes Kanna more than she likes Sou, and thus it is more "emotional" for her to save Kanna. It's possible to play Sara as someone who isn't that affectionate of Kanna, and she can act generously towards Sou. That's not the main issue here.

The issue is that the Player expects the fictional story to go in certain directions based on the morality of their choices, while Sara has no such meta expectations. The Player can reasonably expect to be rewarded with a happy ending at the end of YTTD if they make the "correct" moral choices. Saving Kanna feels like the "morally correct" choice on a gut level because she's a child, while Sou is an adult. So the Player may choose to save Kanna purely for logical reasons. They're not trying to be selfless or wise; they just want a reward from a videogame. And...they're not wrong! Immediately after saving Kanna, the player is rewarded with a cathartic scene with Joe, cluing us in to the idea that choosing Kanna is the "good path."

Meanwhile, if the Player saves Sou, they're saving him in spite of knowing that this could logically lead to a "dark path." You might save Sou because he's a fascinating character, or because you're curious what will happen, or simply because you think he's cute. These are all emotional reasons. Maybe you don't expect any "happy" rewards if you save Sou, but you still expect the story to be exciting with him around.

Speaking for myself, I want to see both the Kanna and Sou routes for reasons that are both emotional and logical. I sympathize with both characters, and I want to analyze them as they continue their arcs. I just think they're great characters connected to fascinating themes about humanity.

In other words, the Player is going to have all sorts of feelings about this choice based on the safety of their separation from the Death Game. It's only a videogame to us. We're not actually killing a child or a young man. We still feel sad about the story, but it's a safe sadness, one we can control. You can make your choice based on which type of tragedy is more interesting to you in the moment.

So that's how the Player experiences the choice, but what about Sara? Does it still make sense to call it a decision between "logic" and "emotion" for her? I would argue, "yes." First of all...

"Logic" and "emotion" are descriptive terms for the argument styles of Kanna and Sou, respectively.

Using "descriptive" terminology means that we attempt to classify language as it is actually being used. Using "prescriptive" terminology means that we dictate how we should be using language.

When Kanna calls this a choice between logic and emotion, you might have thought she was being prescriptive. You might have thought something like, "You can't tell me how I should feel about this." But I think Kanna was simply being descriptive of the language she and Sou were using. It's a fair assessment of their opposing argument styles.

Kanna argues that you should vote for her by appealing to your sense of logic. She eloquently makes the case that Sou has proven himself invaluable to the team with his computer hacking skills. He came extremely close to finding an escape route just before the second Main Game began. With more time, he could find another one. If he dies, there is no one else in their party with his valuable skill set. She also effectively weaponizes her own helplessness by arguing that she is a "useless" child. She states that dying for the greater good "is the only thing she can do." What I love about Kanna's argument is how she twists Sou's own words against him, since Sou has been using coldhearted logical arguments since the beginning. She shows how much she's learned from him, and she's even able to outsmart him.

Sou argues that you should vote for him by appealing to your emotions. He furiously makes the case that he is the most hated member of the team and that you should give into your hatred of him. He says that the choice ought to be obvious based on your feelings. He calls Kanna stupid. He keeps shouting "Stop!" and "No!" He waves his arms in despair. He resorts to threats and exclaims that he will never forgive anyone who votes for Kanna. Sou's argument is compelling because we have never seen him so vulnerable before. Even with his strong will to live, he has an even more desperate will to save the little girl he's grown to care for. It's devastating to watch such a man break down. After losing his previous eloquence, he is forced to bare his soul and pray that that is enough.

However, even with all that in mind, you could still argue on a technicality that some of Kanna's statements are emotional while some of Sou's statements are logical. For example, when Kanna says that she is useless, this reflects her emotional state since she has low self-esteem. And when Sou starts threatening people, it's logical to take his threats seriously.

But there's something deeper at work here than technicalities. There's still something at the core of their arguments that makes the choice to save Sou "logical" and Kanna "emotional."

At its core, this debate is about how to measure a human life's worth. Do you measure a human life based on how "useful" they are? Or do you recognize a person's worth based on their humanity alone?

This is a choice between two worldviews, which the story calls "logical" and "emotional."

In the logical worldview, you prioritize a person's usefulness over their humanity for the greater good. Also, you must be willing to use people like tools for the greater good.

In the emotional worldview, you refuse to reject anyone's humanity, even if it threatens the greater good. Also, you must accept that some moral causes are more important than survival.

If you vote to save Sou, then Sara prioritizes the greater good; theoretically, the group can use Sou to escape. But being willing to use Sou this way rejects Sou's humanity, because we would be using his talents against his will. For Sou, escape is not worth the cost of Kanna's life. Sara also rejects her own humanity by treating both Sou and Kanna as objects instead of people. Kanna is discarded as a useless object, while Sou is kept as a potentially useful one. This is why Sara guiltily calls this "the worst possible choice" when she makes it. And it's why Sou seems to care more about revenge than survival in this route; there is no meaning in a world where we must sacrifice children.

If you vote to save Kanna, Sara does so knowing it may be harder for the group to escape without Sou's skills. But she embraces Sou's humanity by allowing him to follow his heart. She also strengthens her own humanity by refusing to cross a moral line. This is why Sou actually keeps his will to live in this route and mounts a desperate escape before his death. Because there's still meaning in a world where Kanna is allowed to live. He still dies, but with peace and purpose, and having repaid Sara for freeing his true heart.

In any case, you may still disagree with the semantics of "logic" and "emotion" to describe these worldviews, though they work for me personally. I have one more point to address.

Is it really logical to save someone who threatens you?

At this point, I'd like to talk about the most logical member of the group, the character who immediately votes to kill Kanna: Keiji Shinogi.

You, the Player, may believe that Sou will get his revenge if he lives, because it would make a compelling story. And Sara, a high-school student, may be reasonably afraid of Sou's threats, because Sou has tried to hurt her before. Even though the text doesn't portray Sara as being afraid of Sou in this moment, I understand why the Player would fear for Sara's life. In other words, a logical reason to kill Sou is because you don't believe you can control him. How do you force an adult man to behave?

Enter Keiji Shinogi, who doesn't hesitate. Keiji is stronger than Sou, and he's wicked smart. He's confident in his own abilities. And he understands vengeance better than anyone. He doesn't underestimate Sou, who has outwitted him before, but he decides to accept the risk. Like Sou, Keiji has a ruthless will. I believe that one reason Keiji voted first was because he wanted to assure everyone that "your friendly policeman" would keep Sou in line. So even though Sara doesn't act afraid of Sou in this moment, Keiji is there to calm any hypothetical fears the Player has.

And Keiji commits to this role! In the beginning of Chapter 3, in the route where Kanna dies, the first thing Sou does is disturb the group peace. He puts on his "tough" mask and pretends that he never really cared about Kanna. In response, as everyone else is fidgeting nervously, Keiji laughs and calls out Sou on his bullshit. He eviscerates Sou emotionally, effectively putting Sou in his place and forcing him to be submissive, for now. It's Keiji's way of reminding Sou that they already know how weak he is, and Sou isn't going to get away with any tricks under Keiji's watch. Even if Sou's only "trick" in this case is to pretend he has any pride left.

From a storytelling perspective, I'm sure that these two will keep playing their power games, and Sou is likely to regain the upper-hand eventually. But from an in-universe perspective, Keiji looks like he knows exactly what he's doing in this scene, and Sou looks like a fool who better do what he's told. That is, if he doesn't want Keiji to skewer his heart in front of everyone again.

So where am I going with this?

My most generous interpretation of Keiji's vote is that he decided that Sou's life had value inasmuch as he could use Sou. After all, it's not like Keiji spared Sou out of compassion. Keiji just said that he hated Sou more than anyone he's ever known--and Keiji already killed someone else he hated. The harsher interpretation of Keiji's vote is that he fully expects Sou to die later due to his zero percent survival rate, which would make Kanna's presence technically more of a "threat" to Keiji's own survival. However, I prefer to think that Keiji was swayed by Kanna's brilliant defense of Sou's usefulness. That's because Keiji isn't a simple monster; he's a complex man who still wants to "serve and protect" the group...in his own way.

To follow in Keiji's footsteps and vote with "logic" means that Sara decides to trust Keiji's judgment. We know that Keiji is one of the smartest and strongest characters, in addition to being Sara's reliable ally. This is why I think it's still "logical" for Sara to save Sou in spite of his threats. Because Keiji is still there.

Conclusion

That's why framing the choice as one between "logic" and "emotion" works for me. I see it as a choice between two worldviews, one in which people are valued for their usefulness, and the other in which people are valued for their humanity.

I understand that the Player is going to have their own thoughts and feelings about this choice. Believe me, I was heartbroken too! I really wanted Sou to redeem himself and live. And I think Sara even feels the same way, since she pleads "Don't kill our ally!" when Safalin threatens Sou. It's still possible that Sou could redeem himself in the route where he lives, but I imagine it will be more important that the Player faces consequences for killing Kanna. But no matter what happens in Chapter 3, it doesn't change the fact that it looked possible in Chapter 2 for Sou's skillset to save everyone, and everyone was operating under that mindset.

I think that the writing in this game is stellar so I wanted to defend the story's framing. It surprised me to see folks who had reacted to it differently, but that's all part of the fun. It got me thinking about how interesting it is that the Player and Sara view things differently. It also got me thinking that what seems like a logical choice in the moment could feel like the wrong decision in hindsight.

Thanks for reading!

#yttd #your turn to die #sou hiyori #kanna kizuchi #sara chidouin #keiji shinogi #shin tsukimi #kimi ga shine #your turn to die spoilers #meta #mine #this is absurdly long haha sorry #sou and kanna #my meta

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botwstoriesandsuch · 3 years

Text

How to Play as Teba AKA Birb Favouritism By Kip

This was too big to fit in an ask so here ya go anon!

A handsombe birb with a bow and a little patience, constantly in a power squat with enough spite to rival Ganon: Here’s your guide to the best main in Age of Calamity

Teba is so good he’s so fast and so quick like omfg holy shit those strong attack damage output fucking crowd control AND is faster than Revali and pretty much everyone else at breaking weak point gauges like holy FUCK man So don’t let the chaotic attacks fool you!

Considering you are here and asking yourself: How the fuck do I play as birb dad? You’ve probably encountered one of two problems that prevent you from taking advantage of him. 1) wth are these attacks is he even doing damage to this moblin??? I can’t comprehend these combos because I don’t know what is going on plz I just want to shoot arrows or 2) Where the fuck IS he I can’t fucking SEE anything?!?! where did he GO I’m getting motion sick

Well friend, here I am to help you with both of those problems to help you 1) Understand what the fuck is going on and 2) Find out where the fuck he came from, and where the fuck he go, cotton eye joe

His Y stream is straight forward, quite literally. You’ll notice very quickly that his attacks move his character forward, rather than being more still and stationary like Revali or Zelda(slate). I’m pretty sure his Y stream (as in, a pure Y combo with no X/strong attacks) has the furthest distance in the game, perhaps rivaled only by Riju. So basically, save your big Y combos for crowd control and NOT bosses like Moblins and the such. You don’t want to move your directional input too much, since his attacks have incredible distance and range already.

Y-Y-Y-Y-Y-Y: Sweep left, sweep right, charge forward, mid-air arrows forward, stomp land, large spiral forward, flash stomp to ground, to an ending backflip.

You can see the distance here, again, with no directional input at all. Just pressing Y.

So just remember that even though the attack looks very chaotic, it’s really just a big fat straight line.

In all honesty though, you could forget about his Y stream all together. Any benefit to them is basically trumped by his different combos which are superior in both one-on-one battles, and crowd control.

Technically on it’s own, Teba’s combos are just good. He’s got a wind stream here and a loop twirl there. But what makes his combos arguably one of the most powerful in the game, is this ability here

This is pretty much the single handedly the most powerful perk Teba has, and it’s not even his Unique Action! It’s slightly similar to Link’s additional X action, but better in everyway. One of the draw backs of many strong attack combos are the slower speed it takes to dish it out, but this perk basically makes that draw back obsolete. It not only gives you insane additional damage, but also doubles, if not triples the length of a combo. Not to mention that half his move set is in mid-air, so the longer your combo is, the more time you’re off the ground and not taking damage. Basically, this equals fast damage for as long a length of time as you want. So! Onto the specifics

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Y-X: Wind Stream. Functions essentially the same as a Y5 (spiral forward) combo, except slower. Its strength, however, lies in your additional X input, which puts you in mid air and allows you to do what I like to call an

Additional X: Arrow Pivot. You’ll know when you do it when the “Press X repeatedly” option comes up. And the end of his wind stream, Teba flies into the air and, with directional input, fires a barrage of and enemies below him up to a 360 degree movement. Final shot will be of a bomb arrow dealing additional AOE damage. You can spam the arrows for around 4 seconds in midair before it forces the bomb arrow finisher, but you can force it early by not pressing X or pressing B. In fact, for all future additional X inputs (I’ll be shortening that to AXs from now on) you can stop anytime you want but just pressing B to hover in the air. All his combos have the ability to lead into mid-air state, which can let you ride the wind and do more damage, but I’m getting ahead of myself.

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Y-Y-X: Bomb Arrows. Teba sweeps left to right before launching into the air to fire seven bomb arrows (with his LEGS BY THE WAY) in a wide area in front of him. Deals AOE damage, of course.

AX: Instead of immediately going to bomb arrows, Teba will rapidly fire normal arrows (at your X mashing input) and can (optionally) fly forward while doing so at your directional control. This is honestly his best combo in my opinion because it not only is the best for crowd control, but is also one of the quickest ways to deplete any weak point gauges. Just remember to keep him stationary and not fly forward if you’re doing one-on-one, as you might just accidentally fly away from your enemy

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Y-Y-Y-X: Wind Bomb. Not to be confused with the speed running strategy Teba hovers in mid air and fires one massive stream of wind with a bomb arrow. It’s trail also does damage and drags enemies. Deals a LOT of damage, I believe it’s his strongest?

AX: Instead of immediately firing the wind bomb, he will fire normal arrows, but still enhanced with the wind effect. You can control the direction of any of the arrows with the controller. The finisher will be the wind bomb. While this combo deals a LOT of damage (like two normal arrow streams can take out a solid chunk of weak point gauge) It’s the slowest attack in his arsenal. There’s a larger time between each arrow strike, and if you use the full AX combo it keeps him hovering in the air for like 5 seconds, which leaves Teba pretty vulnerable. If you’re using this attack, don’t bother waiting for the wind bomb finisher and end the attack early. So while it’s technically Teba’s “strongest” in terms of damage, I wouldn’t call it his best

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Y-Y-Y-Y-X: The Teba Tornado. Ok THIS is the move that has been ridiculed to death because of how chaotic it is. Teba basically swirls around in a circle and sucks any enemies into his little tornado, and then finishes with a gust of wind upwards

AX: Extends the time of the Teba Tornado, and control it’s direction, lasts for about 9-10 tornado swirls.

DO NOT and I repeat DO NOT LOCK ONTO AN ENEMY WITH THIS MOVE. You will DIE of motion sickness, probably. Ok I mean, you could lock onto an enemy, but that’s not what this move is for. It’s intent is for gathering huge swarms of enemies into one place. The camera zooms out for a reason! It’s great for crowd control, but terrible for one-on-one. Control the movement of the tornado by moving based on the “eye” of the tornado, and not based on where Teba’s character actually is. I still stand by the fact that YYAX combo is superior, as it has better control and is much faster, but hey, this move aint all that bad once you learn how to use it

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Y-Y-Y-Y-Y-X and Y-Y-Y-Y-Y-Y-X: Arrow Strike. This is the only combo that forces you into the AX “Press X repeatedly” state. Teba does his little Y stream thing, before launching high into the air, where you are then given a circle. Move the circle around while rapidly pressing X to fire arrows wherever you choose. Ends with a bomb arrow

Note that this attack will basically make Teba invincible. This is his highest attack, and even mid air attacks won’t reach him in this state. It’s also the longest lasting combo, giving you about 7 seconds to deal as much damage as you wish. Take full advantage of this. Excellent for weak point gauges, but the set up Y attacks do take time, so make sure to use stasis.

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Dash-Y: Small AOE stomp. Nothing to write home about, not that much damage. Just your average set up for the combos that will actually do damage

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Dash-X: Flips over enemies and fires arrows before continuing forward. Honestly looks pretty badass, similar to that backflip Revali does when he was about to assassinate Link. Anyhow, good for when you just want to kill something small but have places to be so it keeps your momentum forward.

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X/AX: Fires arrows high into the air. After some time, the arrows will rain back down in front of you in an amount dependent on how badly you mashed X. (Note that the arrows will always land in front of you, so if you shoot off the arrows in one direction, but then turn around in another direction, the arrows will still land in front of Teba) Ends with bomb arrows. Pretty good if you want to stack the damage with a timed combo. Also automatically strikes onto big enemies if you’ve locked onto them. Good for one-on-ones but don’t rely on it solely.

A really good thing about Teba’s strong combos is that ALL of them are mid-air, meaning you can instantly continue any combo with your aerial attacks. As usual, your aerial combo is just Y-Y-Y-X

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Aerial Y: Fires arrows in front of you. You can press Y up to three times before you’re forced into the ground

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Aerial X: Teba stomps onto the ground with his talons with the aide of a gust of wind. Deals AOE.

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Special Attack: Teba gives a thumbs up of encouragement before murdering everything in his line of sight. (Damages enemies in a direct line in front of him, plus AOE)

So that’s all of Teba’s attacks. Teba’s combos are really fast with that AX damage. A good stasis plus a barrage of YYX will guarentee you a weak point break, and even if you’re slow on it, just tacking on the aerial combo will definetly break it, or at least deal headshot damage cause again, everything is midair.

Speaking of stasis, here be the Sheikah Rune set, which is ALSO arguably the best in the game.

Stasis: Upon activation, little crosshairs will appear on your screen. Use the controller or motion controls to highlight as many enemies as you wish, and when you press X to activate, all will be stasised. Not only is this overpowered considering you can stasis as many enemies as you wish, but you also can automatically head into a combo as there is no attack animation that you need to dash cancel out of. It is also the longest lasting stasis in the game.

Cryonis: ITS A FREE FORCEFIELD! Unlike other characters, this doesn’t spawn a usable cryonis block for you to jump off of (because *stares at Teba’s pretty much pure mid-air move set* he doesn’t need it) but instead, spawns three ice blocks that encircle you. I know that it might seem like you have to position yourself so that you have to wait until the block goes directly in front of you for it to properly counter, but don’t worry. It’ll counter all cryonis weak attacks, (by EXPLODING >:D) even if it looks like an enemy is striking you in the gap between the blocks.

This is the quickest cryonis spawn in the game, capable of countering enemies even the singular second before they hit you with their cryonis weak attack. But other than countering those ice attacks, doesn’t do anything. Still pretty great though!

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Bombs: Teba gets a fancy Sheikah Bow, launches into mid air, and you can aim with the controller/motion to launch a powerful bomb at an enemy/horde. It is guaranteed to expose an enemy weak point gauge, regardless of whether the enemy is using it’s specific bomb counter attack. Like the Y5X combo, this positions Teba at the highest point in the air, making him immune to damage. SO not only is this a good rune for great damage and countering, it’s also a quick dodge for if you’re in a lick of trouble. You can move out of this rune into an aerial combo/riding the wind as well.

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Magnesis: eh. It’s there. It counters weapons. It does its job. If your enemies have metal weapons it makes a little magnet storm. I was too lazy to bother getting a group of enemies with metal weapons because I killed them all with one Y sweep and didn’t feel like restarting the level. It’s magnesis. What do ya want from me. Nothings gonna rivals Slate Zelda’s magnesis combo anyhow.

And last but not least, Unique Action! Teba can charge up his bow with ZR to deal arrow attacks that get stronger the more you charge. There are four stages indicated by a little “ding!” and also the visuals showing wind forming around Teba.

Charge one: Fires three arrows. Pretty basic, although it has a longer range than a normal attack

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Charge two: Fires five arrows, again with a large distance and higher damage than a usual Y attack

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Charge three: Fires a LOT of arrows covering 180 degrees in front of Teba. Very good for clearing out crowds if you couldn’t tell

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Charge four: Fires 180 degrees of bomb arrows, as well as bomb arrows into the air AS WELL as bombarding the battle field with bomb arrows from above for the next 8-10 seconds or so.

Charge four is really what you’re looking for, although three isn’t so bad either. But there really is no excuse to not use Charge four because Teba’s Unique Action can charge at any time. So long as you’re holding ZR, whether you’re in the middle of a combo, doing aerials, blocking, running away-- the attack will be charging. And you can hold it for as long as you wish. Charge four is very very very good so always be holding down that ZR and releasing it and recharging and re-releasing. You can’t be damaged by your own explosions and you really have nothing to lose.

SO what now? Well know that you fully understand what my birb dad is capable off, here’s what to stick to.

If you got a giant horde of bokoblins or something, just us a Y-Y-AX and go ham. It’s like a giant broom that sweeps the battlefield, doing a lot of damage.

Stasis is your friend and your best friend and your only friend. IF you’re fighting two bosses, it’s in your best interest to use stasis to halt both of them and more. Use stasis during weak point gauges to lengthen your time which, combined with Teba’s AX attack speed, with guarantee you a break pretty much every time you use it

Even if you don’t stasis during a weak point break, stasised enemies are a good enough time to use that YYYX combo as even though it’s more vulnerable and slow as I said, when you have the ability to stasis all of your enemies, it’s as good a time as enemies to deal that big damage.

Don’t use your Charge four on stasised enemies. I mean, you can, but it’s really better for when you’re in the middle fo battle, clearing the battle field, and dealing damage even while you’re dodging.

Don’t lock onto enemies. It just makes it easier all around. Teba like to move, let the birb move. Don’t limit him to the bird cage of the focused camera movement, it’s just easier for everyone to move the camera manually. You can snap it on and off just to focus if you want. But personal experience says it’s easier just to learn how to move the camera you lazy bum

Bomb rune is very good. It’s a free weak point stun, and a free dodge. Use it

When breaking weak point, just use the YYX combo. Yes, the Y5X is good, but honestly they’ll both get the job done, so might as well do the quicker combo and save Y5X for crowd clearing. Besides, even if your YYX doesn’t immediately clear the guage (becuase you’re SLOW at button mashing for some reason) you can continue with an aerial combo

Ending a combo and letting the final animation fully finish will drop you to the ground. Don’t. Let the final animation finish and then immediately press B, or B cancel before the final attack starts. This is because you suck on the ground cause you’re a bird. Pressing B allows you to automatically go into glide state/”ride the wind”, giving you better time to glide away to safety, or lead into an aerial combo

Your unique action charge attack can be fired even in mid air. Note that weak point smashes, special attacks, and runes will cancel any charges you make

My personal favourite combo for levels are using stasis, YYX sweep for damage, then while stasis is still going, charging and releasing a Charge Four arrow, then finish by setting up a 5YX combo. That pretty much clears all hordes, then just stasis a boss’ gauge, hold ZR while I do a YYX plus aerial, boss is stunned, use the Charge Four arrow, fall back and do some normal X attack or Ys, then finish off with the weak point.

For his seals, I’d say invest in mid-air attack damage, strong attack damage, or attack speed.

Teba’s final Falcon Bow seal bonuses are:

Midair attack damage (Star)

Damage to foes with status effects (Star) [this is pretty useless ngl]

So I’d say stick with mid-air attack just to get the seal bonus, but don’t put all four as it, as it’ll just waste a seal slot as there’s no bonus for 5 of the same seal. So I say 3 mid-air attack, and 1 strong attack damage. But then again it’s all up for preference! 3 strong attacks plus a single star seal isn’t gonna be a bad match either

Pretty much the most powerful thing about Teba is his ability to smash a weak point pretty much the instant an enemy is down. So use his stasis and combos often.

Although obvious his general crowd control is pretty great too! He’s jut a really well rounded character that is pretty broken and honestly rivals Impa imo

The more arrows on screen, the more chance that fps may tank...just saying. BUT! It’s not really to a rate that’s that detrimental to the experience of playing as him. Just goes to show how overpower he can be if you push yourself enough

Congrats! You have learned the ways of the bird. Now get out of my face, I’m in the mood to post more Teba gameplay....

#i spent three hours on this plz appreciate the birb dad #hwaoc spoilers #hwaoc #age of calamity #hw age of calamity #hyrule warriors age of calamity #teba

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whitebasicb · 3 years

Text

PROLOGUE-0

MEMORIES-Daryl Dixon

chapter 1

Author’s note: Okay so bear with me, this is the first fanfic I have ever wrote. The idea came to me while I was studying for my exams, I was getting pretty frustrated and I thought that writing about one of my favorites comfort characters would have helped. It did. Hopefully I’ll get used to this app and I’ll learn how to use it hehe. Please, DO contact me for mistakes or thoughts on my work, I would appreciate them a lot! I also tried not to give y/n any personal detail such as physique or things like that, let me know if this works!

*I promise, it will eventually get better!

WARNINGS: violence, language, deaths, twd things you may already know about.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x reader.

Pronouns of Y/N: she/her.

✿

It didn’t matter how hard I tried; every memory came out as a blur. I couldn’t remember for how long I’ve been surviving on my own, I couldn’t remember what life was like before the outbreak, couldn’t remember anything if my life depended on it. And even if I could actually find some glimpses of those years, I didn’t have anyone to share them with. Until I had found someone that helped me change my mind about it.

The World had never been kind to its inhabitants, dinosaurs are the perfect example. The choice of giving up just didn’t appeal to me, I only survived purely out of spite, me and the few people left on the Planet. We officially became the first species, the walkers our meteor.

When life itself ceased to exist and the epidemy took the worst outcome, I was roaming through the alleyways of my old University, the alarm went off and the lights went out, everything happened so fast that, to this day, it feels like a fever dream.

My legs teleported my whole body in my room, ears still ringing from that awful alarm, trying listen to what the Principal was saying, It was something between the lines of: ”keep calm, everything’s gonna be alright!” The last words of reassurance I would hear in years.

Everyone ran away, except for a few of us that didn’t really have a place to stay at. One of those guys was my roommate, trying to remember his name would be useless, he disappeared after panicking about his future, a few days after the bombs detonated on Georgia, a few kilometers far from the school. Some guy had the joy to later find him hanging from the ceiling of the library, which was thoughtful because, let’s be honest, who would ever seek for anything at all in a room full of books. It was the first walker we had the pleasure to see. The first of many that I had to put down, because no one still got in the point of view that he wasn’t a human anymore.

Years went by and I pushed my luck and tested myself by going out multiple times. I knew damn well what the risks of going out were, I had little to no experience in self-defense or anything of that matter. Hunting? Oh please, I couldn’t even hurt a fly by mistake, let alone willingly kill an animal. On the first runs I made I found what would have helped me to survive, weapons. The streets were empty most of the time, the locations had been left untouched by the locals that either died in the explosion not so far away or left at the first chance they got. The walkers were too slow even for someone like me, so I always found time to look and scavenge for food. I trained constantly in my room, I was no warrior, could kick no asses, but I was satisfied with my skills.

When the food in the cafeteria ran out, I decided that staying would have been useless and it would have probably killed me too. The few that stayed were turning feral, instead of looking for solidarity or help, they preferred verbally attacking each other at any given occasion.

I would often find shelter in some abandoned places and risk my neck trying to climb trees when I couldn’t find safety on the ground. Then, luck came knocking on my door.

Even if I enjoyed being on my own, I have to admit that at the time Alexandria was a piece of some untouched Heaven, and having to deal with other humans didn’t feel so bad anymore. I met Aaron the day I ate the last snack I had left in my backpack, it was the first human face I had seen in a while and it gave me comfort. I was struck by surprise when Deanna, the leader, told me that they were onto me the very exact moment I got into their radar, I always thought no one was around and that I was too stealthy to be detected by anyone. The rules were clear and my job too, given my youth and ‘abilities’ in surviving, I was chosen as the one to go out with the guy that saved me to find other survivors. The first attempts sucked, we would either find dangerous people or deranged fools we had no wish getting closer to, which would often lead to a somewhat of a fight between me and Aaron. We definitely had different points of view on who to call a ‘good’ guy. He was stubborn, he loved to think that each person we saw on the road was kind. I, on the other hand, was too diffident, too skeptical.

Back at the sanctuary I spent most of the time with him and Eric, his loving partner. He would tag along with us from time to time. I basically became their adoptive daughter and, for the first time, I didn’t mind being with other people, they were the only ones I would let myself grow affectionate with.

The sky was closing in on us when we first saw them; they were dirty, desperate and looking for either a miracle or food. It was Aaron’s idea to leave fully intact bottles of water, that he carried around as a peace offer, on the ground, mine to leave the message ‘From a friend.’ Well, these ideas weren’t appreciated, I tried my best to come up with the reason why they thrown the whole thing away, but my brain just couldn’t think of anything.

Then, the storm came.

#daryldixon #thewalkingdead #darylxreader #memories

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englass · 3 years

Note

#22 from the dark prompts almost, almost sounds like John wants to make things better with Dep. And maybe it briefly works, but that's about as long as it needed to take for John's soldiers to flank the Ranch to prevent escape.

John is just a darling wanting to try for the person he loves; it's unbearably sweet. A touch tragic, but sweet all the same. And ahh, I really like this idea, anon! I did intend to actually go for it, just using Bliss instead of soldiers, but... fuck. Apparently it is sad hours tonight because this turned into pure angst. A part of me wanted to keep going with it, but I feel like it ended on a-- really bloody sad-- clear note and I don't want to force it. Though feel free to imagine what you think happens in that unspoken post-ending. You know, after you stop feeling sad that is.

Also! It is implied and then not so implied that Reader Dep has seen the future. Angsty times ahead.

22. “I’m not perfect. I know I have problems and that I’m… that I’m not a very good person but I’m trying, sweetheart. I’m trying for you. Because I love you, and nothing will ever change that.”

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The warmth of the afternoon sun is a fleeting comfort at your back, a metaphorical hand upon your shoulder that offers a moment's solace before a sudden shiver shakes it loose. Brings with it a chill that accompanies the infernal turbulence of a shifting reality, the ebb and flow of the physical and mental and emotional disjointed as you simply breathe and be; the sensation of change knocking something intrinsic askew. It’s unpointable, not discernable exactly what or where it stems, but you know it is true.

Something is happening. A bigger change than the comparably meger conversation that you’ve prepared yourself to have will produce, no doubt. But it will be a start, a catalyst that sparks the beginnings of a future that you can not grasp. That nurses a void that mutes all that you are until you lose touch of your own self, your own nerves, thoughts, feelings.

Wading through such a slog, catching the once perceived familiar now turned alien shades of the world, is a struggle. A battle in itself to keep you steady enough to not fall through the pages of existence, urging yourself to keep the crisis at bay despite the altering reality surrounding you. Pressing forward is all that you can do, it is the only thing that you can do, and still you falter; tangled in the unnatural unease that has disturbed your very existence.

You wonder if Joseph understands the feeling.

“This isn’t going to work, John,” voice soft, eyes downcast as you push on. Distract yourself away from the foreboding vacantness by saying what you came here to say, the sunlight from the kitchen window your only support. “I love you, I know I always will, but I… I can’t do this. I can’t watch you destroy yourself, John. I can’t watch you destroy us, I-I just can’t,” a crack, a splinter you fail to bite back. Eyes closing tightly to keep the tears at bay.

You’ll never understand how he can idle knowing what he knows.

“Darling, who said anything about destroying us?” John questions worriedly, “You know I’d never do anything to hurt you. The moment I become yours and you mine I promised that I would do everything within my abilities to protect you. That hasn’t changed, sweetheart.” Taking a step forward John easily takes hold of your arms, firm but careful, “Nothing is going to separate us, let alone destroy us.”

“You don’t know that, John.”

“And you do? Do you really have so little faith in us?”

Despite how foreign and unfamiliar the world feels, John’s expression is one you recognise; and, in spite of the minute relief that’s bred from that familiarity, it kills you. It kills you to see him look so wounded, like his own heart is on the cusp of shattering. His eyes have always been so pretty, a magnificent blue reminiscent of tropical waters. And even with them looking so sad, their azure shade so bright and reflective, you still think they're the prettiest eyes you’ve ever seen.

And they make this even harder than it already is.

Before you can get a chance to answer John beats you to it, his voice melodic even when heavy with emotion.

“I know that I’m not,” grimacing he pauses, eyes dropping to stare at the space between you both, his hold on your arms unintentionally getting tighter as he quietly collects himself. Eventually he continues, admitting defeatedly, “I’m not perfect. I know I have problems and that I’m… that I’m not a very good person,” a woeful John croaks free from you, but he keeps going, “but I’m trying, sweetheart. I’m trying for you. Because being with you is the happiest I’ve ever been. Because being with you makes me think that maybe, just maybe, despite everything I have done and surely will continue to do, I can be a better person; a better man. If not for myself then for you. Because I love you, and nothing will ever change that. So please darling, don’t give up on us. Don’t give up on me.”

The tears fall quickly down your cheeks. Misery crashing heavily against you at such an earnest plea.

Desperately you want to listen to him. To surrender yourself to a life together no matter how brief and tragic it may end. At least you would have each other; at least you would have him. But not for long, you know. And it is for that reason that you can’t, that you shouldn’t. Because if you do you will lose him. You will lose yourself. You will be dragged into a war you want no part in, forced into a role you have no want for, coiled into a mere silhouette of who you once were. No longer a person but a figurehead, an effigy atop a defiled altar.

And John will lay upon it.

So in your shakiness you stand firm. In your heartbreak you hold yourself together. And with a wheeze of a breath you say little and yet so much.

“I’m sorry.”

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