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ichorai · 3 years

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cellmates ; five ; j.wy

pairing ; jung wooyoung x reader

summary ; stuck in jail after stealing a necklace off the princess, what happens when your new cellmate with an impossible escape plan comes along?

themes ; fantasy, angst, slowburn, action, adventure, medieval, pirates, magic, elves, mermaids, royalty

words ; 8.9k

warnings / includes ; character death, blood and grime and injury and everything in between, reader being tied/chained up :(, vulgar cursing, crying, rowdy pirates, "keep the love interests away from each other" trope <3, ✨pure confusion✨, me torturing my characters once again yikes, ateez cameos !!, cellmates to (future) lovers !!

a/n ; uhm. hi. first off, i apologize for taking so long with this series KWHJKSDFK and second, i am also so sorry for what you're about to read o.0 this one's a real angsty part folks :') i swear i swear it gets better don't be too upset :(( i love writing this series so much (it's prob my favorite original story) and im so excited to hear yalls thoughts :D

cellmates masterlist.

a map of this universe is included at the end of the chapter !!!

Cerulean beaches never quite looked like real beaches to you. The sand was as white as snow, the gentle lapping waters so bright they looked to be molten sapphires. It was all far too perfect to be naturally authentic. You were pleased to find that your boots left shallow imprints in the sand, disrupting the once pristine terrain.

Night was creeping upon you once again, and you were in desperate need for a good sleep. You were lucky that Yunho didn’t live very far off, also pleasantly surprised to find that you could even remember the way back (though admittedly, it took a considerable amount of backtracking).

The front of his little cottage was just as you remembered, albeit dark and somewhat dingy. None of the candles or oil lamps were lit and the curtains were drawn. The large expanse of his garden seemed somewhat unmaintained, weeds starting to sprout from between the wilting, once bright flowers.

You knocked against the door thrice, clasping your hands behind your back while you waited. How would Yunho react upon seeing you? What if he blamed you for losing Wooyoung? What if he didn’t believe you? What would you say then? Much like the first time you came to Yunho’s little cottage, tumultuous questions and irrational thoughts churned about in your mind.

It took a long while for you to realize that nobody had answered the door yet. You blinked, mystified, and raised a fist to rap on the wood again. You grew impatient rather quickly, knocks progressively becoming more frequent and hurried.

“Yunho?” You called out after about five minutes of waiting. By then, it was obvious that the man was either not home or avoiding you on purpose. And considering how friendly and sweet the pink-headed giant was the last you saw, you doubted it was the latter. “I’m coming in!”

The door opened in a fluid motion, knocking against the wall behind as you swung it open. You stepped inside tentatively, peering around with widened eyes. It was completely dark inside. So much so that it took you a few minutes for your eyes to properly adjust to the ill-lit hallway. Just as you had remembered, the small living room was to your left and quaint kitchen to your right, the winding staircase situated in the corner. The familiar scent of maple wood was still lingering in the air, although faint and almost imperceptible.

You shut the door behind you and toed off your boots, shuffling into the kitchen.

“Yunho?” Your voice eerily echoed in the empty cottage.

And so you made your way up the staircase, peering into the bedrooms. A heavy feeling gripped at your chest when you glanced into Yunho’s bedroom. That was where you and Wooyoung kissed… you could still remember the feeling of his arms wrapped around your waist, his warm breath on the back of your neck. You wondered what would’ve happened if you hadn’t stopped him. How far would the two of you have gone?

Shaking all thoughts of the past away, you bounded back down the stairs. There was no sign of Yunho at all. Just where could he be? You tried your best comforting yourself; perhaps he had gone out for a walk. Surely he’d be back soon.

Much to your dismay and gradually rising concern, Yunho didn’t show up at all. Not when the sun started to rise again, not when you passed out in sheer exhaustion on a kitchen stool (you couldn’t bring it in yourself to go back up to the bedrooms), and not even when you stirred back into consciousness, the late morning sun glaring at you harshly through the slivers between the curtains.

Your bones cracked and popped as you stood up and arched your back, rolling your stiff neck from side to side. From the pirate ship, you had brought little else than a knapsack full of gold you found in one of the cellars, food that could last you a couple days, water skins, and two sheathed daggers. Everything else on the ship was practically worthless, or too heavy to carry.

With a heavy sigh, you splashed water onto your face using the kitchen tap and patted your sleep-ruffled hair down. The skin around your wrists were still raw and stung when you rinsed away the crusted blood. You wished San had given you that coconut extract lotion; you couldn’t seem to find it anywhere on the ship. Guilt-stricken, you turned off the water and slung the knapsack over your good shoulder.

If Yunho was gone, then where else could you go? It seemed wrong to stay in his home without his knowing.

Air. You just needed air to clear up your mind.

Stepping outside felt like a mistake. Under the bright sunlight, you felt your head throb dully in agitation. The garden looked even more lamentable now than last night, the flowers drooping so far that their browning petals grazed the dry soil beneath. The air felt thick and heavy, and you huffed out several breaths to relax your tense muscles, shutting your eyes in the process.

“What are you doing?”

The voice was so sudden and unexpected, you couldn’t help but shriek, flinching back against the cottage door. You were met with an old man standing just shy of Yunho’s unkempt garden, his gaze confused and somewhat judgemental.

“W-What?” You muttered once regaining your scattered thoughts.

“I said,” the older man shot you an exasperated look. “What are you doing, waiting by that house? Nobody lives there.”

It felt as if cold water was dripping down your spine, and you crossed your arms over your chest, shivering slightly. “But… that can’t be true… Yunho lives here. He’s a, uhm, a baker, I think. This is his house.”

The old man regarded you like someone would look at a madman. There was something in his tone that told you that he wasn’t taking you seriously. “I’m sorry to say this, but nobody’s lived there for years and years. I’ve never heard of a baker named Yunho in this area.”

“No… but I was just here a few days ago with him…” Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip in thought. What was going on? Where could he have gone? What could’ve happened to him?

In your peripheral vision, you saw the old man hobble away, but not without stopping to glance back at you with narrowed eyes every few steps.

And then you remembered with a sharp intake of breath. You and Wooyoung were thrown into jail to fade away into nothing but legends… and now nobody believes you really exist… Wooyoung was thought to be dead by everybody… could the same be happening to his innocent, pink-haired friend? A dark, tar-slicked hand reached out into the confines of your chest and curled its slimy fingers around your palpitating heart in a steely grip.

They took Yunho. The realization had you slapping a palm to your mouth, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. It all made sense; the untended garden, the old man saying nobody’s lived here for years… it sickened you to think that the only reason you could remember him was because you weren’t in Cerulea when he ‘disappeared’.

“Oh, no. Oh, god, no!” You leaned against the door, overwhelmed. If they took Yunho, would they have Wooyoung, too? Did Wooyoung even come back to Cerulea? If he wasn’t here, then he’d be the only other person who remembered Yunho.

Just what the hell are you going to do now?

It felt wrong to stay in Yunho’s empty little cottage with your newfound realization. The pirate ship was the second best option, but even that was much too far for your trembling legs; you doubted you’d even make it to the beaches, much less get in a small boat to row back to the anchored ship. Besides, the memory of San jumping off the side was one that you weren’t very keen on reliving.

And so, that was how you found yourself in front of an inn, only two cobbled roads away. The heavy door whined as you gently nudged it open, shuffling inside. Your heart was thumping against your ribcage so loudly that you could barely hear anything else. For once, you were glad that your name had faded into legend. To them, you were probably just another nobody.

The inn held the thick aroma of cheap alcohol and spritzer perfume. You glanced around curiously, noting the few people poking away at their breakfast and chugging down their frothy ales.

What looked to be the owner of the establishment was standing behind a counter, looking bored. He caught your eyes, and despite your head telling you to turn around and walk back to the pirate ship, you found yourself shuffling forward.

“What can I do for you?” The innkeeper asked, eyeing your haggard appearance.

Feebly, you pulled out a handful of gold coins and dropped them onto the wood of the counter. “Can I just get a room for the night? Will this be enough?”

The man across from you stared at you incredulously, his gaze flickering from the gold to your wide eyes. “Where’d you get all this money from? You didn’t steal it, did you?”

You blinked twice, shrugging your shoulders slightly. “They’re my savings.”

He looked upon you dubiously, but accepted the coins nonetheless. “You can have breakfast if you’d like. It comes with the room.”

Shaking your head slightly, you replied, “thanks, but I just want to get settled in for now. I’ll come down for luncheon.”

“Suit yourself,” the innkeeper quipped, sliding over a rusty key with eight engraved into its dull metal. “Head upstairs, turn left.”

And so that’s where you went, the wooden stairs creaking under your weight. You slotted the key into the lock of a door that had a large metal eight clearly displayed, and heaved the door open. By now, it felt as if your muscles were on fire. Everything seemed to be aching.

The first thing your eyes laid upon was a small bed, a thin, lavender-hued fleece wool blanket draped over the lumpy mattress and a single measly pillow propped up at its head. It took everything within you not to dive into the warmth of the woolen layer, but you managed to bide your time, even if it was just a couple minutes.

You toed off your boots, the soles of your feet practically numb. The pack that hung on your shoulder was next to come off, sliding down your arm and onto the bedside table. There was an unlit candle by the windowsill, but still more than enough light streaming in, seeing how it was still quite early in the morning.

The air smelled of breakfast from downstairs; consisting of, from what you saw, honeyed oatcakes and fruit tarts and rations of fried eggs and sausage. Your stomach was still quite empty, but you didn’t have the heart to go back. You needed time to think, time to rest.

After you nursed a few sips of water from a bottle in your knapsack, you finally allowed yourself to sink onto the bed, sighing out in contentment.

Everything felt so quiet, so still. This all felt like one of the stories you’d make up back when you were still in the cell. Perhaps it was all a bad dream, and you’d wake up in Wooyoung’s arms in Yunho’s little cottage, his lips littering soft kisses down the column of your throat until you stirred back into consciousness. A shiver ran through your spine and you sluggishly tucked the blanket up to your chin.

But since this wasn’t a dream, you found yourself at a loss.

“Oh, Wooyoung,” you whispered. “What should I do? Where are you?”

It was so quiet that you could imagine Wooyoung’s voice in your head saying, “Don’t worry about me. Just go. Get back on the ship and sail away and never look back.” You frowned at the thought, curling onto your side so that your knees were pressed up to your chest.

“I love you,” were the last words imaginary-Wooyoung murmured, before your mind grew blank. The silence that followed was what ultimately lulled you into a tranquil slumber.

You were awoken partly from the light from outside angling directly into your shut eyes, and partly from the agitated growl emitting from your stomach. Blearily blinking the sleep away, you glanced around the room, fumbling for the bottle in the knapsack. After gulping down enough to quench your thirst, you slid out from underneath the purple blankets.

And following digging your knuckles into your eye sockets, you stumbled towards your boots, shoving your still-sore feet in. You didn’t bother lacing up the loose threads. After all, you were just going down for lunch, anyway.

Downstairs, the inn seemed far more crowded than it had been in the morning. A twinge of paranoia sang its trill song in the back of your mind, but you pushed the thoughts away, moving to sit on a dark stool in the corner.

“Slept well, I presume?” The innkeeper grinned slightly, raising an eyebrow at the state of your rumpled hair. “What’ll you have for luncheon, then?”

“Anything you have, I suppose,” you replied in a raspy tone, clearing your throat slightly.

A bowl of steaming rice and battered fish cubes slid across the counter, along with a side of warm bread and a slab of light canary-hued butter melting off the top. You were quick to tuck in, eating at a pace that would most probably have your stomach complaining in the near future.

The innkeeper looked like he wanted to ask you something, but ultimately didn’t get the chance as an influx of customers poured through the doors. You barely glanced upwards, wanting nothing more than to finish up your meal and head back upstairs to properly plan out what you were going to do. The growing crowd’s noise was starting to make you feel a little antsy.

A solid five minutes later, your bowl was already empty, save for sticky rice kernels stuck to the bottom. You dropped a gold coin next to the half-eaten buttery bread as a token of thanks for the innkeeper.

And when you hopped off the stool and looked forwards, you could practically feel your heart lurch into your throat. The sight of him was one that you never thought you’d see again, nor did you want to. You’d recognize him anywhere. He looked unchanged, the same roughly-shaven beard covering the expanse of his squared jaw, the jagged scar that trailed over his sallow cheekbones. Those damned stormy eyes, the same color as the princess’ silver necklace.

The man that had guarded your cell for God knows how long surveyed the chatting crowd with an ugly scowl imprinted onto his features, nose upturned as if he misliked being amongst the common folk. He moved away from the door, shoving past the common civilians milling about. The innkeeper was the first to notice the burly man’s presence, raising a questioning eyebrow.

“Hello, sir. How can I help you today?”

Completely skipping over any need for niceties, the guard held up an unfurled scroll, “We’re searching all nearby premises for a dangerous criminal. Looks like this.”

From your position, you couldn’t see what he was showing the innkeeper, but it was quite obvious that it was some sort of rough artistic rendition of you. Dread trickled into you as you watched his face morph into one of slight recognition.

You needed to leave. Right now.

The busy throng of civilians were used to your advantage as you silently weaved through the crowded inn, people you bumped into ranging from deliriously drunk to slightly tipsy. Your heartbeat was thundering far too loudly, to the point where you couldn’t hear what the guard was growling out. You were a couple meters behind him now… if he so much as looked backwards, you would be a dead person standing.

Shit. The knapsack. It was still in your room. You probably wouldn’t last two days without it. And so, you set off for upstairs, pace steadily growing quicker, in tandem with your palpitating heart rate.

Grab your pack, leave from the window, repeated itself over and over in your head, a mantra of panic and dread. Downstairs was too much of a risk.

You were running so quickly that your boots caught onto the wood of the stair steps, and you just about face planted against the bunt of the hard surface. Pain blossomed across your nose bridge and temple. Slightly disoriented, you pushed yourself back onto your feet and rushed away. No time. There was no time at all to get hurt. You needed to leave. What good were you to Yunho, to Wooyoung, if you were thrown back into a cell?

Utter relief sank its greedy claws into you as you burst into your room. No time, no time, no time, your own voice echoed in your head. You grabbed the knapsack and pushed at the window and—

“Shit!” You cursed angrily when the window didn’t budge, the cold panes wedged tightly against the wooden slats. It was then that you noticed the bolted lock clipping the window pane and wooden framing together. “Oh, fuck.” Your breaths came out as tight, staggered pants.

Before you could decide on what to do next, you heard shrill screaming come from downstairs, the terrible sound of steel against flesh reaching your ears. There was nowhere to go from here. You were trapped.

Practically hyperventilating at this point, you scurried back to the door. Perhaps if you went downstairs and blended into the crowd, you could get out without anybody else noticing.

But alas, you never got the chance. Because just as you turned into the hall, you were met with the horrendous sight of the stormy-eyed guard, the very same one that you saw every single day you were in that rotten cell, an appalling look of triumph splayed across his rugged features.

A leering grin twisted his ugly features in such a horrid manner that it took all you had in you not to retch. You noticed the way his sword was unsheathed, a ripe shade of carmine trickling down its sleek blade. No doubt that’s the innkeeper’s blood, you thought solemnly.

Before you could react, the guard’s calloused hand shot out to grab your forearm, pulling you along with him so roughly that you stumbled onto the floor, hands and knees scraping against the wood in a manner that had your skin torn and bleeding. Feebly, you attempted to grab at anything to hit him with, to hold on to out of desperation. With no remaining patience, the monster of a man yanked you upwards by the throat. Choked gasps left you as your hands darted up to claw at his clenching fingers, but you immediately stiffened when he snarled out something that had your blood running cold.

“The Gods have been kind to you today, girl. I would have you speared right here… have you bleeding out until all the life has been drained right out of you.” His putrid breath fanned across your neck as you struggled in his iron-clad grip fruitlessly. “Lucky for you, the princess has personally requested you be brought back alive.”

It was dark outside when Wooyoung cracked his eyelids open for the second time. Through the window across from him, he could see a plethora of stars speckled across a blanket of raven black, glinting and winking at him through the glass. The room he was in was beautifully decorated, stone arches elegantly curving just below the ceiling and intricate flame holders spaced out on the pristine walls. The candles bathed the room in a gentle honey-like luminescence; calming and tranquil, almost a sedative. All of his previous aches and pains were now dulled to gentle numbness.

Where am I?

“Glad to see you’re back awake. You’re not going to pass out on me again, are you?”

Wooyoung nearly screamed at the sudden voice from beside him, flinching so hard that the crown of his skull knocked against the bed’s headboard. He hissed in pain, face contorting into a grimace.

The elf (Yeosang was his name, Wooyoung faintly recalled) muffled a snort underneath his breath before swiftly pulling up a chair and sitting beside him, “Does it still hurt anywhere? I tried to heal your wounds with sarcio essence, but seeing that you’re human, it’ll take a bit longer for you to recover. You took quite a beating, you know.”

Wooyoung tried to speak, but the dryness in his throat made it hard to speak.

“Oh, here.” The attentive elf poured cold water from a pitcher into a small cup, handing it over to Wooyoung. He gingerly drank, swallowing with great effort.

“Where… where am I?”

After pursing his lips in thought, Yeosang bowed his head slightly, glancing at the tight bandages wrapped around the dark-headed man’s torso. “You’re in Nymaeden.”

“Nymaeden?!” Wooyoung just about shrieked. His bruised features twisted in agony. Perhaps he shouldn’t have shouted. Then, in a much softer tone, he mumbled out, “how did I get here?”

He was, most likely, all the way across the world from you. Although his mind was still heavily clouded, you were still fresh and prominent in his mind. He hoped you were okay… left tied up on that pirate ship… Gods, this was all his fault… What a fool he was, thinking you’d be okay after all that you’d gone through. You probably thought that he was dead.

The blond elf arched an eyebrow. “You don’t remember?” When Wooyoung shook his head in hesitant denial, Yeosang continued on patiently, leaning forward.

“It was just three nights ago…”

The waters were cold, seeping into his flesh and bones, filling every one of his orifices, the salt trickling into him like sand down an hourglass. He could feel it drip into his lungs. Bubbles of his life slipped past his cracked-open lips and Wooyoung, with what little energy he had left to spare, lifted his fingers and tried to catch the small globules of air. The sticky blood that clung onto his skin like honey dissipated into the ocean, staining the waters a darker, sinister hue.

Wooyoung closed his eyes. His limp body sank further and further down. This was the end.

But was it?

Mermaids, being curious and spirited creatures they were, watched the injured handsome man drift across the ocean, crimson blood seeping out of his wounds. They had seen how he was thrown off the ship, how he had fought when he was onboard. They took pity on him. Even unconscious, a pain, far deeper-rooted than his physical cuts and gashes, was quite obviously splayed across his features. It was the face of a man with an utterly broken heart. He had just lost something very dear to him, that was made abundantly clear.

The small group of mermaids glanced at each other worriedly, almost immediately reaching a mutual consensus. In a swarm of colorful scales and wispy locks of hair, they swam towards the unmoving body.

One of them shamelessly prodded at him, ogling him with widened eyes, and they waited with baited breath. Wooyoung did not awaken. And so, two of the elegant creatures wrapped their arms around his leaking torso, and jolted into a brisk swim, carrying him across the oceans. Wooyoung’s raven hair pulled away from his face, revealing the deep gashes across his paling skin. A thinning trail of his blood followed them. They had to be quick; this man was just on the verge of greeting death.

They were taking him to Nymaeden, the land of the Elves. The elvish folk were the best healers they knew, and they were rather fond of the mermaids. Perhaps they would be willing to heal this unfortunate soul.

“We found you on the beaches,” Yeosang said in a discolored tone. “You were… you were practically dead. It was a miracle we got your heart rate back up, really. You’re either an incredibly thick-skulled fighter or… you’re just a coward afraid of death.”

Wooyoung winced at the elf’s stinging remark. Which was it? Was he running away from what was inevitable? What was he fighting for?

Y/N, the small voice in his head chimed. Wooyoung swallowed heavily.

“These mermaids… could I speak to them? Maybe they saw where the pirate ship went!”

Almost immediately, Yeosang shook his head. “I’m sorry, the mermaids are long gone now. They’re due up North, and I doubt they’d come back anytime soon.” There was a whicker of sympathy hidden behind his molten hazel irises. “Do you have any other plans? We can’t exactly keep you here in the medbay for all eternity.”

For a second, Wooyoung’s ragged breathing stilled.

“Pirates,” he murmured under his breath unsurely, just loud enough for the elf to pick up. “Where can I find them?”

Rearing back, Yeosang hissed out, “you must’ve hit your head harder one too many times, human. You were almost in death’s bony grasp, and now you want to go back?”

“I don’t care!” Wooyoung erupted, flinging his hands upward, despite his muscles screeching in agony. “It’s not about me anymore. I left her on that ship… and I have to get her back. Please, Yeosang. Please.”

There was a beat of tense silence. Yeosang was no longer looking at the pleading injured man, but his head angled towards the window, gazing at the pale moon that decorated the night’s horizon in deep thought.

“You mustn’t tell anyone,” the blonde elf warned, narrowing his eyes. Wooyoung nodded vehemently. “Elves and pirates don’t mesh well together, I’m sure you know. Pirates are nowhere to be found in this country, they know well enough to steer clear of our waters. However… if you head westward past our nation’s border, you’ll find yourself in Cinisia. It might look like a small, harmless country, but I’m afraid you’d be gravely mistaken. Cinisia is perhaps the most dangerous country on the maps. Along their west coast, there’s an illegal trading market. Pirates swarm the coast like ants would spilt honey. If you’re looking for pirates, I’d bet all my silvers they’re there.”

Wooyoung took a moment to contemplate this. “How do you know of this market?”

“I’ve got into muddy territory with pirates myself,” he uttered with a stormy expression. A muscle ticked in his jaw. “I have said this before. Elves and pirates? Not the best of friends, I can tell you that.”

Releasing a shuddering sigh, Wooyoung asked one final question. “Do you think I’ll find them? Do you think I’ll get Y/N back?”

Yeosang leveled a cold gaze with the dark-haired man, before gracefully rising to his feet and striding towards the door. “I’ll get you a map and traveling clothes and rations. You can leave at first light, so get some sleep. You’ll be needing it.”

A sinking feeling weighed heavily in Wooyoung’s stomach. He hadn’t answered the question.

Right before he left, Yeosang paused by the arched doorway and spoke once more without even turning to look at him. “And just so you know… if you make it out of that market alive and empty handed… I want you back here in Nymaeden. There’s something I want to offer you.”

The elf left in a blur of sage fabrics and soft flaxen locks. The honeyed flames of the candles withered inwards with his departure, faint tails of smoke dissipated into the air. The room faded into darkness, but Wooyoung was far too afraid to shut his eyes.

He was scared of dreaming of you.

That morning was one of the toughest he’s ever had. Yeosang had handed him a pack of traveling rations and equipment, bidding him adieu with a stout nod of his angular face. His muscles groaned and screamed with agony with his every step. The trek to Cinisia took hours upon hours, with hardly a break. Wooyoung was far too jittery to stop. He had to keep going. Creeks babbled with glowing water and the trees whispered poems in the wind, their alluring shadows offering a tempting sanctuary.

The contrast between Nymaeden and Cinisia was startling. Whilst the former was a luscious country of opals and forestry and pale elegant fortresses climbing to the sky, the latter was… well, it was quite hard to tell what anything looked like past the thick red smog lacing the horizon. The air stank of ale and smoke.

Definitely pirate territory, Wooyoung surmised grimly.

The shrill noises of whistling and hollering was a telltale sign that he was close. Wooyoung stepped over weather-beaten rocks, peering around the rocky cliff ledge to see hundreds, perhaps even thousands of ruffians gathered together in a colorful flurry of stolen fabrics, foods, and riches that seemed all the more glorious under the sweltering sun. Now, it smelled strongly of stale fruitcakes and gunpowder and sweat. Not the best of aromas, that was for sure. There were also pirates yelling out indiscernible prices that seemed to climb with every shout. He was pretty sure he saw a couple of them scuffling in a fight, some landing a couple square punches (most missed because they seemed to be too drunk to aim properly) on the nose before brushing their injuries off as if it were nothing.

What an awful place. Wooyoung could only hope you weren’t here. Well, no, that was a blatant lie. He’d do anything to see you again.

After digging his knuckles into his eye sockets to wipe his weariness away, he blinked the colored spots away from his vision with a melancholic sigh. Gods, he was tired. Unfortunately, he had little time to lament, so he pushed himself onwards.

Wooyoung seemed to blend in just perfectly; he was thankful Yeosang decided to pack in a tattered cloak. The rest of the pirates didn’t seem to bat an eye. Standing in the middle of a throng of filthy seamen, it was hard for Wooyoung not to double over and retch. His roiling stomach didn’t aid his precarious state one bit.

Though everything seemed to be a cacophony of rowdy pirates and the clattering of illegal trade, Wooyoung picked up on a particular chunk of dialogue exchanged between a gaggle of men.

“Have you heard of the siren incident? Yeah, it happened near the Isles of Odralle! Can you believe? Ship was fuckin’ headed to the capital of Odralle, but they had a sudden change of plans; suddenly wanted to go to Aurecia. Cocky bastards think they can sell anything to anyone nowadays, yeah? Good thing the sirens took them. Wonder if they were tasty, though. Stupidity fouls the meat, my father used to say,” one of the pirates rambled as he slurped on his ale.

“Your father was a jackass,” another snorted, pounding on his chest with laughter. “What the fuck is a ‘siren incident’? I swear you lot gossip ten times more than me wife does.”

A third pirate shoved at his shoulder, a look of incredulity painting across his tanned features. “How have you not heard? A famous pirate ship - maybe one of the most famous ones in history - got lured into siren territory! The whole crew’s gone. Ship wreckage hasn’t been found. Nobody’s heard or seen them at all. My guess is that they made a calculation mistake and went off navigation charts once switching from Odralle to Aurecia. Then the sirens… got the best of ‘em.”

This elicited a gasp from the fourth in the group. “Wait! The big ship with the peg-leg captain with just one eye? Damn, just hearing stories about him gives me the creeps. Legend had it that he defeated not one, but two fuckin’ krakens during a storm! His ship flag is, er, the red and gold one… with a skull, right? And the skull’s laying in blood and swords?”

Wooyoung felt his blood run cold.

He knew that flag. The flag they were describing… was exactly the one he saw before they took you… before they threw him out for the sharks…

And before Wooyoung could even think it through, he found his body jerking forward, pushing past the bystanders and throwing himself into the gossip circle with all but a mangled growl escaping his throat. He yanked the last pirate to speak forward by the collar until the tanned man’s face was so close, his nose brushed against Wooyoung’s. The rest of the gang immediately quelled their incessant yammering, eyes growing wide in interest. Some placed their hands onto the hilts of their curved swords as a precaution, but they didn’t want to do anything hasty. After all, they loved a good fight.

“WHEN WAS THIS?” Wooyoung was glad his voice didn’t crack as he yelled, shaking the stricken pirate by the collar. “There was… there was a woman on that boat. She can’t be gone! She can’t be dead!”

They all looked at him as if he were crazy.

And after a second longer, Wooyoung’s grip loosened. It seemed he was a little rougher than first anticipated, because the fabric around the tanned pirate’s neck was crumpled and one of the pearly buttons came loose, dangling by a thin thread. He staggered backwards two steps, painfully sucking in lungfuls of rancid air.

Were you… were you gone? Was that it? Had you succumbed to the siren’s sweet song of death?

“Mate,” the tanned pirate spoke up with a lilt of sympathy in his tone. “There was never any woman on that ship. And besides, the ship hasn’t actually been found yet.”

The fire of hope that once burned brightly within the hearth of Wooyoung’s chest, was now but a dying ember. However, the man’s words gently blew on the warm ash until a new flame ignited. This was a different kind of hope. Who knows, maybe you had managed to escape the sirens. For all that was good on this planet, Wooyoung hoped you were still alive.

It was then that the most peculiar thing happened.

A man (if he could even be considered a man) - perhaps one of the ethereal beings he’s ever set his eyes upon - strode up to the circle of pirates, leveling his stormy gaze with Wooyoung. His hair was a shocking shade of pink, laying in loose strands across his forehead. A dirtied tunic hung over his shoulders in tatters, ripped and frayed in too many places to count. The belt that cinched around his waist was lopsided and unbuckled, dangling to the floor. The trousers he was wearing, a dusted shade of raven’s wing, was in the same state of disarray as his tunic. He was a mess, and Wooyoung could see a thick film of distraught glazing his eyes.

“My name is San,” he rasped. “And I was on that pirate ship.”

The marble was cold beneath your scraped knees. Your eyes studied the golden rivets decorating the pale white floor, splintering off into branches of aureate, though it was quite difficult to see through the bruises and unyielding blood obscuring your vision. If your hands weren’t bound behind your back, you would’ve at least tried to staunch the crimson seeping out of the fresh cut you sported across your temple. The guards had thrown kicks and punches everywhere they could reach until you had stopped struggling, every fibre of your being felt nothing but raw pain and the kind of anger that left you completely and utterly exhausted.

You just… you wanted it to all be over.

However, with the King and Queen sitting tall and proud just meters in front of you, you highly doubted things would be resolved at the snap of a finger. Beside their majesties sat the rest of the royal bloodline, dainty crowns of lustrous tawny and glinting silvers resting upon their regal heads.

They made you sick.

“I must say,” the Queen purred at last, placing her chin on her palm while gazing at you with a malevolent smile, irises of amethysts glinting in the cold light. “It’s impressive how you managed to escape the dungeons in your condition. Even got yourself a pretty little boat and everything.”

You could feel yourself blanching. How did she know about the pirate ship you left by the beaches?

“As I’m sure you’re aware by now, Y/N is only but a legend. Though nobody truly believes you’re real, you are still very much respected throughout the nation. And since you’re regarded so highly amongst the common folk,” the King rumbled, clasping his hands together with a smug leer tracing his lips. “You’ll be made a lowly servant for the lovely Princess, Amarelia.” He gestured further down the line, to a sweet young girl barely of age. The Princess was a frail thing, with skin of dove’s wings and lips of sweet peaches and lashes that kissed the apples of her cheeks. She somewhat resembled a fawn, what with her large eyes and innocently placant features. Her curled sienna locks were gathered into an elegant updo, showcasing the glimmering silver laces on her dainty neck.

The very ones that you tried to steal so long ago, and the entire reason you were even here. That necklace was what made you a well-known myth in Cerulea.

Anger broiled deep within you, but you kept your mouth clamped shut. There were guards ready to strike if you moved even a centimeter, and you decided to play it safe for now.

There was something you were practically dying to ask, though.

What did you do to Yunho?

“To welcome you into servitude,” the Queen surveyed you with hooded eyes. “Crawl to Amarelia and kiss her shoes. Thank us for not having you executed on the spot. Perhaps it shall give you an idea of your rank in this castle. You are nothing to us.”

“Mother!” The Princess gasped in protest with something akin to pity and horror melding into her soft complexion. It was clear that the sweet dove wanted nothing to do with this. In a way, you felt sorry for her as well.

Nobody paid her any mind.

With a heavy heart, you started shuffling towards the Princess. Pain and humiliation blossomed across your skin like flames crawling over oiled wood. A part of you considered standing your ground, lifting your head high, refusing to obey any of her commands. And you would’ve, truly. But… Yunho. If there was even the slightest chance he was alive and kept hostage because of you, you needed to remain on your best behavior. For his sake and even perhaps for your own.

Once in front of her, you dipped your head to quickly brush your lips against her fine cream flats, immediately straightening your spine with a grimace afterwards. Amarelia regarded you with a sympathetic look.

The guards stepped forward to roughly drag you back to your original spot. Your mind barely registered the cold sensation of metal clamping around your neck, the rattling of chains a ghostly echo in your ears. The Queen was grinning so widely it was a wonder her face didn’t split in half. It took everything you had in you not to spit onto the floor in defiance.

When they started tugging you towards the grand double doors, you realized that you couldn’t just sit around and allow them to throw you around like a ragdoll. You kicked out your feet in resistance, ignoring the cinching pain of the metal around your neck, boots thudding against the smooth marble surface. The guards swore under their breath, pulling you along ever harder.

“WHERE’S YUNHO?” Your hoarse voice ripped across the throne room. “DID YOU KILL HIM? DID YOU KILL YUNHO?! LET GO OF ME! YOU MURDERER!” The small quirk of the Queen’s perfect eyebrows had you spouting out obscenities, rage bubbling over your struggling form.

Double-doors swung open, and with that action brought the largest crowd you’ve ever seen in your life. There must’ve been thousands - no, hundreds of thousands of people out there. And they’ve all come for you. The myth and the legend. Y/N L/N.

It was all so sudden. You didn’t even remember how you got to the front of the highrise platform, being forced back onto your knees with a grunt. There were common folk and wealthy lords alike littered about the ocean of heads. Some looked to be terrified, others watching on with hanging lips of awe.

You swallowed heavily.

“Behold!” The King bellowed from somewhere behind you. There was a sneering lilt to his tone that made you want to spring upwards and knock his teeth out. “Your beloved Y/N!”

The crowd in front of you erupted into pandemonium. It was a strange and overwhelming cacophony of displeased boos and excited screams.

“A legend and a hero to some of you, I’m sure,” the Queen hummed, somehow instantaneously quieting the buzzing mass of people. “Now diminished to a mere servant. Y/N L/N is nothing, and acting like they are worth any bit more than scum will lead to treason. I’m truly sorry to disappoint some of you.”

She didn’t seem sorry at all. The crowd practically roared at that, most especially the commoners at the back, yelling curses until their throats were raw as they threw moldy apple cores at the guards.

You hung your head in shame, gaze trained to the wood slants of the stage. Hushed murmurs travelled about the rest of the crowd like waves gently crashing against shore. You were alone on this beach, it seemed.

Truly, utterly alone.

You must’ve had the worst luck in the world.

No matter how much you’ve fought, struggled, resisted, it always ended up the same. With you kept captive. That musty jail cell because of a damned necklace, then bound on the pirate ship to be sold off in Aurecia (a part of your heart sunk at the memory of the friendly fairy-pirate San jumping overboard)… and now a different cell, your wrists chained to the cobbled wall behind you. Your arms were sore yet numb, almost having lost any feeling in them, but that was the least of your concerns.

It was bright here, unlike your first cell. Back then it was always dark, and always cold. There was a crackling fire across the room, licking hungrily at the burning wood, casting amber phantoms across the expanse of your place of confinement. It wouldn’t be long until the fire died out and you’d be shivering once more. There was also a small window, but it was far away from your reach, and you wouldn’t even bother to try, considering your arms were laced above your head.

Being back in the castle had your mind racing. Everything had been so loud outside. But now that you were alone with only your own thoughts to accompany you, it almost felt suffocatingly quiet. The silence was deafening, roaring awful things into your ears.

You missed Wooyoung. What would he do in your position? You hoped he wasn’t here, truly. He deserved to be happy elsewhere. But you couldn’t deny that a small part of you wished he was back here with you.

Face it, he’s not coming to save you, the snarky voice in your head spat out. Nobody is. You’re on your own. You have to save yourself.

It was at that moment the door creaked open. A man with silver hair slid in, grimness splayed across his defined features, like the wiry shadows of tree branches marring the warm light of the room. You spotted the medical kit he clutched in his sure hands.

He was the royal healer. It somewhat surprised you that the King and Queen sent him. Perhaps it was Princess Amarelia’s doing; she seemed to have a pure enough heart. Her parents, on the other hand…

“Are you alright?” His voice was a soft thing, a mere whisper, almost lost to the loud snapping of the fireplace. Hesitance was evident in his tone, accompanied with stinging sympathy. “I apologize, that was a foolish question. Of course you’re not, that’s why I’m here. My name is Seonghwa, I’m the royal healer for this castle. May I?” He brandished a bottle of strange blue ointment and cotton patches. You had just been humiliated and degraded in front of thousands of people, and now a royal healer was apologizing to you? He was certainly giving you whiplash.

After pausing for the slightest of moments, you dipped your head just slightly, still waiting for something bad to happen.

“Sarcio essence,” Seonghwa murmured gently as he doused the patch with the blue liquid. “Ceruleans steal it from the elves of Nymaeden. Its healing abilities are unlike anything we’ve ever seen. Ever since magic, of course. But that’s a thing of the past now. Magic is illegal in Cerulea. Not sure if you heard while you were down there in your cell.”

That made a frown flicker across your face. Cerulea, the ever-perfect country, needing to steal things from other kingdoms?

And with another stout nod, Seonghwa leaned forward to swipe at your fresh wounds and bruises, cleaning away the dried blood with nimble movements. It stung at first, restrained hisses escaping your lips as you squeezed your eyes shut. It felt like your skin was burning, and everything was on fire and the silent monsters were screaming your name.

“It’s a good thing if it stings a little. That’s your body working to put itself together.”

It was silent for a long time. You had to clamp your teeth down on your bottom lip so as to not let him hear your pathetic winces of pain.

The healer seemed to notice this, brows furrowing. “You don’t have to try to be strong around me, Y/N. You’re hurting, and it’s okay to show that. I won’t think any less of you.”

You eyed him with somewhat of a dubious aura, before bobbing your head for the last time. “Thank you,” you muttered brokenly.

Seonghwa hummed softly in response, screwing the cap back onto the sarcio essence.

The familiar creak of the door swinging open floated across the rooms, and you snapped your head upwards. Even the healer appeared to be surprised, bowing his head low at the newcomers. Also known as, if you had to put it eloquently, the true and utter banes of your existence. If you were the single flickering candle, they would be the tornados constantly whispering your flame good night.

It was the King and the Queen, draped in a waterfall of golden lace, diaphanous silver silks, and striking tones of mauve matching the hue of their angry irises. They held their heads high, looking at you as if you were the shit stuck on the bottom of their fine shoes.

“Leave us,” the Queen commanded Seonghwa without even glancing in the direction of the medic. She kept her gaze trained on you, and only you. Silently, he left the room with not another word, shuffling out of the door, unable to spare you one last sympathetic glimpse.

After surveying you, the Queen graced you with what seemed to be a smirk, and beckoned towards the guards behind her.

“Bring him in,” she said, practically dripping with delighted malice.

What happened next had you choking on your own gasps, tears immediately rimming your eyes like frost sitting atop tree branches on a harsh wintry morning. It had your stomach curling into itself, nausea climbing up your throat, begging to escape. A scream, so disgustingly raw and broken that it didn’t sound like your own voice echoed throughout the room.

They threw a peach-haired man in front of you, and he crumpled to the ground as if he were nothing more than a stringless puppet. If you thought that you were hurt, it was absolutely nothing in comparison to the sweet baker that you were so very fond of. He looked to be half dead already, bruises mapping the expanse of his pallid skin as abundant as there were stars in the sky. His once-bright pink strands of hair now looked a sullen grey, as if all the life had been seeped out of him. Dried blood crusted his cuts and gashes, littered all over his shivering form. You swore, with every fiber of your being, you were going to kill whoever hurt him.

“YUNHO!” You cried, heart lodged in your throat. The soft giant who had once been so boisterous, laid unmoving on the cobblestone floor. Kicking against the wall, you yanked away at your manacles fruitlessly until your wrists grew raw, wanting nothing more than to fall to your knees and crawl to him and ask if he was alright. It didn’t matter that you were hurting yourself in the process, you just… you wanted to get out of these chains, out of here, away from everything.

How dare they?

Tears were rolling down the apples of your cheeks, conjoining at your jaw and dripping mercilessly onto the ground. A constant drip, drip, drip of your pain made loud and clear to everybody else in the room.

You were so furious, so heartbroken, that you had forgotten anybody else existed for a short second. It was a shame that you were only reminded when one of the guards stalked up with the King’s nod of approval, gripping Yunho by his faded locks and yanking him upwards. His face didn’t seem to even flinch, numb and desensitized.

Was Yunho gone? No… no, he couldn’t possibly be…

A confusing concoction of sobs and desperate pleas and hiccups tumbled past your lips far too quickly for even you to understand yourself

The events that transpired rushed by in an indecipherable blur. You could barely pick up what the Queen murmured.

“This beloved baker friend of yours…” she cocked her head to the side in mock-thought, purple eyes flashing dangerously. “He is strong, I’ll give you that. However, he seems quite adamant not to give us any information about the other prisoner, Wooyoung. They were childhood best friends, no? I’m sure you remember him, don’t you?”

Your heart stopped at the sound of his name.

How dare you? How dare you? How dare you? The mantra reverberated in your skull until it was all you could think, staining your mind with an inky, poisonous black.

The mocking sympathy evident in her tone had you thrashing against your bonds all the more. “And alas… I’m afraid we no longer have any use for him.”

Just like that, the guard holding Yunho upwards drove his longsword clean through the gentle baker’s abdomen, dropping him to the floor. An ungodly wail tore from your vocal chords, resonating across the room and painting wicked smiles across the two royal leaders of Cerulea. Much to your horror, Yunho uttered no sound, merely dropping onto the stone with a thud. Crimson pooled at his wound so quickly, that the rose-hued ichor grazed against your feet in a matter of seconds. You stopped struggling, the drumming of your heart loud in your ears.

Since your gaze hadn’t left Yunho’s unmoving body, you didn’t even noticed the Queen sidestepping the puddle of blood, forcing your eyes away by gripping your slick face with one of her cold hands. You tried to pull your cheeks away, but it was as if her fingers were steel. Her purple eyes were so close to yours, you could see the flecks of aureate gold embedded within the enticing lilac. The Queen flashed you a charming smile, as if she hadn’t just murdered your friend in cold blood. It seemed she noticed your pounding heart rate, because she murmured an incantation in old Cerulean that you couldn’t quite pick up. In an instant, you could feel yourself relaxing in her grip, wrists going slack in the cuffs, the muscle in your chest thumping slower and slower. A part of you was afraid it would grind to a stop.

Her pearly whites flashed as she grinned evilly. The lavender in her eyes darkened drastically, to the point where any trace of gold disappeared completely.

“We didn’t kill Yunho,” she leaned closer and whispered into your ear, her tawny locks tickling the side of your face. “Killing is barbaric.”

There was an old story of a gingerbread man and a fox crossing a river you often heard retellings of during your childhood. The fox swore up and down that he wouldn’t eat the gingerbread man whilst helping him cross the river. As suspicious as the gingerbread man was at first, he eventually climbed onto the sly fox’s back, naive with hope. The fox arrived at the other side of the river alone and with a full stomach.

It seemed you were the foolish gingerbread man and the Queen was the fox. The Queen’s magic seeped into your being, clouding your mind in a dangerous haze you could no longer fight.

You believed her.

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kaisa-ryo · 3 years

Text

Itadori Yuji NSFW Alphabet

Warning: English isn't my native language!

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*

A = Aftercare (What he likes after sex)

Itadori likes to chat for a long time. Topics for communication are usually very diverse: from listing the different sex positions he wants to try, to discussing brands of cars, televisions, types of soaps and colors of underwear. In parallel, Yuji will stroke your back, causing your body to creep. So the love attraction that you already experienced with him before suddenly takes on a special intensity. When he has a need to receive your affection, he will begin to sink under the covers until he rests his nose against your chest or stomach. By this action, he asks you to play with his hair. At this moment, he may stop talking altogether, because instead of chatting, he will hum with pleasure. In addition, he will try with all his might and in various positions to snuggle up to you with his strong male body. And you will begin with great skill to stroke his hair and gradually increase the pressure in order to induce real ecstasy in him.

B = Body part (His favorite body part)

Obviously the hips and butt.

It is a blissful feeling when he squeezes your buttocks as he continuously enters you. And in the morning, when you start looking in the mirror, you notice that your thighs are scarlet. As you examine yourself, Itadori in the next room sees your stunned expression in the mirror and smiles proudly.

C = Cum (Everything about sperm)

He usually ends up on the aforementioned body parts. Although he experiences no less high pleasure when he watches how his hot semen flows down from your vagina. Or the mouth. And if you also swallow his seed, it will completely discourage him. It's so awkward and at the same time arousing when a girl literally lets a part of you into her. It's like you start making it a part of yourself. The part of his soul that passes through your body, moving on to the next stage of orgasm.

D = Dirty secret

To tell you the truth - there are a lot of them. Despite the fact that he almost always speaks with you frankly on intimate topics.

He often thinks about how he will kick you through the school desk and fuck you under the light of the graceful sunset that falls through the half-open blinds.

About how madly tempting it would be if you suck him off somewhere in the closet.

How to fuck you by the sea on soft sand.

There is no limit to these secret desires. Someday he will definitely tell you about all of them. And, of course, it will.

E = Experience

The highest level of experience in intercourse is masturbation. Yes, he has seen a lot of different videos on porn sites and instant messengers. And of course, he remembers them every single one. He has a lot of sexual fantasies. And they are all related to you. But they need to be implemented.

It will also ask you about your experience. For example, can you do a blow job. If you do not know about any sexual arts, he will certainly show you a video, explain how and what to do, ask if you like this objectively.

You can even say that he has much more indirect experience than you. But Yuji likes it. I like to teach you everything that he himself knows from the erotic videos he has watched.

F = Favorite position

In general, you have tried an innumerable number of poses all the time, but none can compare with the one when he presses you into bed from behind. When your penis plunges into the innermost and holds you so tightly that it begins to seem as if it has completely absorbed you.

G = Goofy (Are you serious at this moment?)

In most cases, yes. Even if this is not the first time you have been doing this, this does not mean that intercourse may not go well. But sometimes passionate excitement can outweigh all expressions of seriousness and turn it into entertainment or stress relief.

H = Hair (Is the hair ok?)

Not that he regularly tidies them up, but tries to make sure that both of you are comfortable. Maybe he prefers not to show it, but Itadori is really worried that you will be uncomfortable. Although the hair itself does not really interfere.

I = Intimacy (Romance)

Yes. And a lot.

Itadori literally melts when he sees you smile, the reason for which is his sweet and romantic actions. For him, there is no line between "boyfriend" and "spouse". And, of course, he regularly scrolls in his head how you have a large shared apartment, wedding rings, children ...

The guy is ready to even get you the moon from the sky, just to see your charming smile once again, to feel how you jump on his neck and say that you love him with all your heart. Sometimes he gets carried away - and then his hand reaches out to you to stroke your cheek, circle around your neck, say some banality, without which it is difficult for you to live. And sometimes you think that at such moments Itadori... looks a little more naive. But he does not see anything wrong with this and continues to cherish you, like the most priceless treasure on earth.

J = Jack off (masturbation)

It happens. And even after the start of your relationship.

In moments when you are far away, he records your telephone conversation, asks you to throw off your photos, turns on a home video taken once secretly from you ... then he starts "playing with his snake", quietly moaning your name. And if you start writing or talking on the phone, how much you want him now, it will just go crazy, imagining how he is fucking you on the bed right now. After all, it is such a pleasure to realize that your body receives only what you so passionately dream about and what you want.

— Mnh... yes, y/n... please continue...

K = Kink (Kinks and fetishes)

As mentioned earlier — home video. Yuji prefers to do this in secret, since he knows it will embarrass you. And besides, you will immediately guess why he does it.

He also has one fetish that you know about. Namely — voyeurism. When you change clothes, stand in the shower, or try on a swimsuit, he closely monitors your actions while standing outside the door. So he initiates you into his intimate world, where you can become his muse.

In addition, he has several types of perversions that he considers esoteric. For example, he really loves to admire your naked body and inhale its aroma, starting from the neck. This also applies to your personal things — your scent is also felt on them, and Itadori constantly examines and sniffs your things, hoping to feel your scent. It's kind of like a drug for him, and he likes to wake up in the morning and feel that your hair is still felt on his neck. And if you put on his clothes... it seems like some kind of new fetish. Now on his things your next smell. It's fucking exciting...

L = Location (Favorite places to have sex)

It makes no difference. The place does not depend on the amount of pleasure received from the process. True, you still have to find compromises. Because if it is convenient for him to hold your legs, simultaneously entering your bosom again and again, then it is quite problematic for you to be in the air, holding on to his shoulders. Thus, you get less pleasure. But do not think, he is not a rabbit, to fuck you wherever he wants, the guy will definitely ask if you want it. And yes, he does have a line between "normal" and "too public."

M = Motivation

All your movements are in clothes, which emphasizes the whole aesthetics of your body. As if hypnotized, Itadori watches your curves, how they change when you change posture or movement. When you are in your underwear, you specifically approach him and start to flirt playfully. When you wear his things, as mentioned by the way earlier. And oh shit, how turns him on when you show yourself a new swimsuit and ask to rate.

N = No (Which won't do)

Anything that will harm you. It doesn't matter whether it's big or small. If Yuji feels that he can be rude to you, then he will definitely warn you to tell when it hurts. After all, on the verge of orgasm, he may not notice that you are uncomfortable or unpleasant.

O = Oral (Likes to receive or to give)

More is to give. His head is blown away because you are moaning his name sweetly and loudly, demanding more. Your morning kiss and praise for being amazing last night will give him confidence. And then, perhaps, your next night will be even better than the previous one.

Although one should not ignore his desires with needs. The guy will be very upset if, for some reason, you do not give him pleasure with oral sex.

P = Pace

In this he is a real professional Yuji knows perfectly well how to stretch pleasure and orgasm as much as he wants. A small effort of will is enough for him, which he has at least a spoonful.

At first he will start with smooth movements, and then gradually accelerate. At the same time, it will be easy to prolong your pleasure, because you will feel the strongest sexual charge directed in your direction. And with each strong orgasm, you will experience not only physical, but also mental pleasure.

Q = Quickie

From slow and smooth thrusts to wet and hot suddenness, it makes you feel your own intoxication, as if you are high. Superhuman abilities do give good results. As it turned out, not only in sports.

R = Risk (Ready to experiment)

In other matters, he is unlikely to refuse, since he himself has long wanted this. But Itadori is a responsible person, so he will think a hundred times and make sure that you accept the offer accurately. Do not be surprised that he will act agitated during such sex. He, like you, understands that this risk is serious and can create real problems.

S = Stamina (Stamina)

You should prepare caffeine and energy drinks, as this machine will squeeze everything out of itself, despite the fact that you yourself were exhausted already in the third round. He will not be enough all the time, and if you ever start to black out from fatigue, the guy will scream that he has not finished yet. It even forces you to limit the number of your intercourse per week, as his stamina is exhausting. And you've told him about it more than once.

T = Toys

In this regard, Yuji is more cunning and impudent. He always refuses to have toys for himself, although he himself does not mind tormenting you with a vibrator or even slipping it into your panties, justifying this by the fact that he does this to keep you close, at the same time showing his concern for you, flickering his ghost in your head. But he's not lucky that you're not such a naive fool. Despite this, the guy gets hit on the head, with a very convincing request never to do this again.

U = Unfair (Does he like to tease)

Very much not even against, but not much into it. Over time, it bothers both you and him, and all actions cease to be unpredictable.

V = Volume (How loud is it)

Pretty loud. But in the volume of your moans, you take over.

They start with stifled growls, to groans because of how fucking amazing and sexy you are. And it all ends like a sugary, but trustworthy silence. Your loud moans of pleasure are a sign that you both were good.

W = Wild card (Random headcanon)

Once there was a case where Yuji could not come. He felt that he could not come even if he wanted to. His arms and legs seemed to be glued together, and he himself froze. I started to panic, think of reasons in my head. You, in turn, noticed this too, and when you asked what was the matter, Itadori turned pale and speechless. After that, he sat down on the bed, and here you started to worry. It turned out that he had masturbated too much over the past month, which has formed a habit of certain stimulation of the penis. At the news, you laughed, and he blushed. But at the same moment he exhaled with satisfaction. The guy was glad that the reason was not in you and not in his health.

X = X-ray (What's under the clothes)

16 cm. During erection ± 2.5

Y = Yearning (How high is the sex drive)

Sex serves him for several purposes: relieving stress, sexual tension, just as a way to prove his love for you... Sometimes the beginning of sexual intercourse depends on his arousal. But for your sake, he's trying his best to hold back. Resorted to masturbation instead of sex, but as you already know, even this has its own problems. Seeing him so depressed, you also do not bypass the mutual concern. Even if you don't really want to do this or you are not in the mood, you will never refuse him. Although you will never let him relax and stop controlling himself. Do not miss the opportunity to talk to him about this, because, of course, he also needs it - to get rid of an inferiority complex and so on...

Overall, ± 8/10

Z = Zzz (How quickly falls asleep)

Quite surprisingly, even in spite of his endless chatter before going to bed, as soon as he put his head on the pillow and lean on you, he falls asleep instantly. You feel him in your arms like a small hyperactive child who constantly wants to tell you something or, out of habit, make a row. And myself in his arms — protected by a large and strong wall.

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk imagines #jjk x y/n #jjk #jjk x you #jjk itadori #jjk yuji #itadori yuuji imagines #itadori yuji x reader #alphabet

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dontletthishappentoyou · 3 years

Quote

Dr. Strange

Okay, so a few things. So this is kind of representing ‘Eastern Philosophy’ or something kinda vaguely, and I can only speak about the basics of one of those philosophies that I know about, but the movie seemed to acutally dig into it a bit in one of the main themes in a more subtle than expected way. Person wants X, wise people help him think about stuff, person accepts not having X. Nice. The first stuff you learn about Buddhism is that life is suffering and the cause of suffering is wanting, craving, hunger, or some other translation. Basically, you can either get what you want and soon want something else, or you can learn to overcome wanting through seeking or working toward some form of enlightenment. Iron Man entered this film wanting his hands to work again so that he could be a surgeon again. Being a surgeon gave his life meaning, and the wise people thought about why it gave him meaning, figured out that it was kind of okay, but very not anatta, so they guided him, mostly indirectly to grow. Some of the world-building reminded me a little of my time with Korean Zen masters in a way that isn’t complete nonsense to the audience. Or it’s acceptable nonsense. The Ancient One at one point said something like “not everything makes sense” and it was kind of an excuse to keep the magic system soft and to tell the protagonist and audience to accept that it’s not something you should bother trying to understand, but seeking to understand is not always part of Zen. I’m assuming most people have heard questions like “What is the sound of one hand clapping?” and stuff like that, and part of the point of meditating on these mantras and coans is to “sit in the don’t know” as I’ve heard it put. Embrace the human incapacity to understand. I’m curious if knowing more about Buddhism would make me appreciate the Zen influences in this movie more or less, but it was more satisfying than I was expecting. Philosophically, it came across as though it was legitimately making an effort to represent the ideas of another Zen influenced cultures. It’s also extremely possible that what I’m recognizing as zen specific are acutally generalizable to Hinduism and other Eastern religions and philosophies, but I have no idea. It also was genearlly more satisfying than most other Marvel films I’ve seen in terms of character growth. I don’t remember Iron Man well enough to attest to that, but it seemed like this Strange guy was basically the same character with the same flaws as the initial Iron Man character. They seem pretty interchangeable. But I think the arrogant, smart, know-it-all archetype was kind of perfect for the message of accepting human limits for understanding, although there were many points where Strange’s understanding of the magic system as hard is what got him out of situations. I forget where, but I heard somewhere that character arcs can be seen as focusing on disputing a lie the character believes at the beginning. “I am awesome because I succeed at what I do” seems to be the lie that was most addressed. Thor was close with this, where he clearly went from beliving his lie to not, but the path was slightly muddly and seemed to be built on more generic inspiration, but in this, the events and challenges seemed to directly address the lie. The climax was quite blatant with it, forcing him to create a time loop where he died in a hopeless fight with some sort of god over and over again. He had been told the truth version of the lie pretty directly, and had been coming to it gradually himself by practicing things he’s not good at and being proven wrong about things many times throughout the film. Admitting he was wrong was an element of most rising actions in various levels of subtelty. He also learned that things aren’t about him, fighting this general arrogance through a bunch of humbling experiences that make sense, and ended up making decisions that aligned with that lesson, which was presented relatively simply at the beginning but made more meaningful through the events of the story, as is often the case in and beyond Marvel. The Iron Man know it all archetype also made me think a bit about whether the film was misinterpreting what a scientist should ideally be, or if Dr. Strange himself was kind of misinterpreting the ideals of science. I think a lot of people imagine some specific kind of close-minded, atheistic, nihilistic character when they think of smart science people. I would say smart science people are primarily curious, open-minded, and seek truth even if it goes against what they previously believed. If you’re a neuroscientist who believes that X procedue is the best way to reach Y result, and you read a study showing that Z procedure is more efficient at achieving Y, you now have a new belief, provided the study was well-done, even if Z comes from a cult, Eastern or African medical traditions, or anything. The stereotype would be Nietszche’s science as religion kind of scientist, where Science is a sacred thing that can’t be challenged, rather than a method of looking for truth. Regardless of what the ideal scientist is, I know I strive to be the good one, and some of my worst mistakes in attempting to achieve that resulted from trusting that everyone who speaks sciencely were alike in that thinking. Citing studies and statistics for the Bad Scientist is a cherry picking process used to defend X, rather than a way to look for the best way to Y. The Good and Bad Scientists seem to generally have the same aesthetic and take a bit of inspection to differentiate. So Dr. Strange was sort of one of the Bad Scientists at the beginning, dismissing many things as impossible, but happened to be faced repeatedly with undeniable proof. If he was a Good Scientist, it would be nothing but exciting for him. If he was a Bad Scientist, it would be loads of cognitive dissonance. He seemed somewhere in the middle, but ended up open to this weird area of science beyond typical nature, and ended up rolling with it really well. It left it a little bit ambiguous as to to what extent he was a Bad Scientist at the beginning, but he did seem to become a better one, partly through embracing the unknown. Basically, I think this may be my favorite so far, but will keep thinking about it for a while and maybe rethink some bits, but I really enjoyed the character growth and felt that the themes were well thought out, well portrayed, and aligned with the plot, the general aesthetic, and the world-building extremely well. It just felt like an extremely cohesive movie in most of the things I care about at the moment. I’d definitely have complaints, mostly in terms of who gains power how fast. It felt like it was plot-driven convinience and didn’t necessarily align with who had the most motivation or access to power, but that kind of thing bothers me less than it used to. I’m fine with plots that pretty blatantly serve character development. Some action was meh, some supporting characters were uninteresting, the music was appropriate but generic, world-building didn’t feel like it was entirely thought through, but those don’t feel all that important to make the film work as a whole. Some of it even felt kind of necessary to make it work. A more structured magic system would have defeated the point of embracing unknowns, spreading the focus across too many characters would have been great for a series, but would have detracted from how concise the movie felt in the portrayal of its themes and thrown off the pacing. I also don’t have much insight into the action. Maybe they consulted people who had studied Kung Fu and other martial arts that were born from the philosophies that inspired the themes and that’s just what it looked like and I don’t personally recognize that because I don’t know anything about them. I’d actually really appreciate if they had done that. Maybe I’ll actually look into their choreographer or something. Maybe the music would be less generic if I had been paying more attention to it.

#marvel #strange #dr strange

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purplesurveys · 3 years

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1169

Do you take lessons for anything? No. I’ve done so in the past, but not at the moment.

Has something really heavy ever fallen on you? Other than siblings or cousins from when we played together as kids, I don’t think so.

If you wear makeup, what colors do you usually wear? I never wear makeup but whenever my friends have used my face as a practice stage (lol) they’ve usually just used natural or nude-ish colors, which I find look okay on me.

Does your shower have curtains or a glass door/wall? It has a sliding door. I’m not sure what material it’s made out of, but I can tell you it’s at least not glass.

If you have more than one pet, do they ever get jealous of each other? Cooper does tend to bark and/or whine when he sees me giving more attention to Kimi, but not always. Kimi couldn’t give less of a crap, but this is also because he is 13.

Is there a room in your house that you don’t like going in? I used to not like being inside my bedroom, especially after the breakup. For a long time it was a place I only associated with crying and breakdowns, so when I was doing the arduous task of starting over I haaaaated staying there because it only hurled me right back to square one. But I’m happy to say that I eventually got better, had enough strength to change the narrative for my room, and now I like being here again :)

Do you remember the last question you were asked? What did you answer? My mom just asked me to watch Cooper because he was having the zoomies.

Besides salt and butter, do you put anything on your popcorn? Not a big fan of popcorn but if I had to pick a topping, I’d go with cheddar cheese.

Are you lonely? I’ll feel it sometimes, but it only lasts for a moment or so.

What’s your favorite magazine to read? Wow I haven’t read a magazine in years.

Do you like pineapple? I hate it. In all forms. The pizza debate doesn’t even matter to me lmao, I just think pineapple downright sucks.

Have you ever seen fireflies? They used to be common in our village when we first moved in, back when there were only like 3 houses in the neighborhood (we were one of the first to move in here). As more houses were built and the place got more occupied the fireflies gradually lessened until they disappeared altogether.

Have you ever trespassed? I very vividly remember taking multiple trips to the school cemetery back in grade school (I went to Catholic school and ours had a cemetery below our chapel, where all our deceased nuns were housed...I really shouldn’t be talking about this at 10 PM...). I am 100% sure that was an off-limits area but we went there anyway because we were a naughty group of kids and because no one was guarding the area.

Do you tell your parents where you are going? Yeah; if I live with them, they have the right to know. < Ooh, I’ve never even thought about it this way before but this is a very good point. I’ll second this, haha.

Do you agree with the notion that all people were created equal? Yes.

Do you raise your hand or participate in class? God never. I hid as much as I can and only recited if I was called on purpose.

Do you like visiting the mall? Why or why not? I like the malls that we have. But then again, malls are the only decent public spaces we have - we don’t have public libraries, parks, playgrounds, etc. – so it’s not like I have a choice on where I can go if I want to go out.

Have you ever purposely hurt an animal? Yeah I kill bugs when I see them. Soz, I have no feelings for them whatsoever.

Would you ever see a therapist? I planned to finally do this last year but it just fell through haha and eventually I was able to care for myself too. Now that I’m doing a lot better for the most part, I feel like I’d have no clue what to talk about once faced with one.

Are you afraid of heights? Only if I had to jump all the way down. But if I ever found myself staying at an extreme height simply to enjoy the view, or if I was ever in one of those towers where the top floor’s floor is made out of glass, I think I would enjoy that.

Are you afraid of the dark? I always say I’m usually not afraid of the dark, and will only be if I was in a situation that was intended to scare me. I would definitely be afraid of the dark if I was in like an abandoned cave or a haunted house, but I would also find the darkness in my room comforting.

Are you a jealous person? When I am it’s mostly been in a playful sense and rarely serious.

When is your birthday? April 21st.

What are you listening to right now? My very very old aircon doing its very very loud whirring thing. It’s become a running joke in the family because it is literally SO FUCKING LOUD hahahaha Have you ever been caught doing something you weren’t supposed to be doing? As a goody-goody, I can only ever do this to my mom; but yeah, she’s caught me many times.

Are you still friends with someone from kindergarten? Sure, but I’m not ~close friends with any of them. Just chummy enough to like their photos on social media once in a while or greet them happy birthday. My oldest friend was from Grade 1.

What is the most important thing to you? Being happy with myself and making sure I don’t miss out on life and opportunities.

Do you like whipped cream? I can take it or leave it.

Are you close to your mother? We get along but not close.

Are you close to your father? I’m closer to him in the sense that I would be more comfortable around him, but we’re also not physically or emotionally close.

Do you walk around bare foot when you're at home? Or do you wear socks? I am Asian hahaha what do you think?

Do you like chocolate popsicles? Sure! One would sound lovely right now, actually.

Would you ever be your school’s mascot who wears that costume? Both of the schools I’ve attended don’t have mascots.

Would you rather see the Great Wall of China or Big Ben? Great Wall for sure. Sorry but I can’t see myself getting excited over a giant clock, and I’m sure there are other lovely spots in London I’d much rather visit.

Have you ever written a poem? Always unsuccessfully. It’s never been my forte.

Would you ever be a tornado chaser? That’s a thing? Uh...no way??

What is your favorite thing to eat with bbq sauce, if you even like that stuff? Pizza. And anything, I guess. Barbecue sauce is the bomb.

Your parents tell you that this summer, you get to pick the vacation. Where do you plan to go? Covid notwithstanding and budget permitting, probably New York City.

What do you think is a good theme for a prom? I could not care less.

Have you ever had to do a class in summer school? Thankfully, never.

Do you get nervous when you go to the doctor? About what? You know, I’ve always thought going to the doctor was no sweat until I realized just how nervous I was when I had to book a telemedicine consultation once as part of my job (PR can make you do the most random, out of context things sometimes, I swear haha). I surprised even myself with the reaction I had when I found out I had to do it, and how I felt like declining the offer...I guess I was scared about the possibility of underlying health issues suddenly being unearthed. Your whole life can always get turned upside down in the blink of an eye with just one diagnosis.

Have you ever been to the rainforest? I’m pretty sure the climate I live in is called tropical rainforest, so I guess yeah.

Have you ever created a website? Not from scratch. I had always made it under an umbrella website, like Blogspot.

Ever thought about writing a book? Sure, as a kid.

Have you ever had a dream where you killed someone? No. Whenever I have dreams of that nature it’s always me or a loved one being killed, but never me doing the killing.

Do you ever make up stories in your head and wish they come true? Yes.

Which is worse: stuffy nose or runny nose? Stuffy. It sucks not being able to breathe freely.

Which is worse: Sick to your stomach or sore throat? I super hate sore throat. I already get stomachaches frequently, so even though I know how sucky it can be I feel like the discomfort would be bigger with a sore throat.

Do you think your last relationship was a disaster? The way it ended was, but it wouldn’t be fair to myself to invalidate the genuine happiness I felt when I was in it.

Have you ever solved a Rubik’s Cube? Never.

Who do you think is the easiest to talk to? Angela.

Would you consider yourself to be emo? No.

Do you have a favourite metal band or do you not like metal? Not really, no.

What is your current desktop picture? It’s just one of the provided desktop photos on my Mac.

Thick or thin blanket? Thick.

Who are your favorite bands? Paramore, Coldplay, and Against Me!

How do you mark through your word search puzzles? Depends on my mood. Sometimes I’ll strike through and sometimes I’ll go ahead and encircle the entire word altogether.

Have you ever sewn something? I’ve done embroidery...does that count?

What did you eat for dinner last night? We had breakfast for dinner, actually hahaha so my dad made an omelette, hotdogs, and tapa.

Ever been grounded? If so, for what? Continued from last night. Yes, I was caught cursing all over Twitter when I was like 11 so my parents cut off my access to all my gadgets for a year or so. Which, in retrospect, is an acceptable consequence for my actions, but we’re also talking about a time when schools were starting to view the internet as a necessity in doing homework and research. I missed out on nearly all my homework for a while, and my mom didn’t buy it when I kept telling her I needed to do my research over the internet. At the same time, she kept demanding why my grades weren’t doing so well when she was the reason they kept being pulled down...so yep, not a very fun time.

Have you seen all of the Jaws movies? No and I don’t really have the desire to. Doesn’t seem like my kind of movie.

When was the last time you played cards? (not on the computer) Maybe 2 or 3 years ago.

Have you ever drank Cherry Coke? No, I don’t drink any soda.

Have you ever had a black eye? Nope.

Have you ever eaten a bug? Not to my recollection, but I would love to try cooked crickets and whatever bug can be prepared and eaten.

Do you like pranking people? Never; the idea makes me cringe since I never know when it’s considered going too far. I’d rather watch people prank other people.

Did you ever take a cooking class in school? Yeah, but we were required to take it. We also had some baking sessions, which to me was a lot more fun. I remember having to make macarons and rainbow cake which are both right up my alley, heehee.

Do you celebrate St. Patrick’s Day? No, idk what that is. I just know people turn everything green on that day lol.

Do you use Skype? I’ve never used Skype on my own. That’s where I used to talk to my dad for video calls maybe around a decade ago, whenever he was abroad; but I never had my own account. These days I alternate among Microsoft Teams, Google Meet, or Zoom.

Have you ever participated in local magazine cover girl searches? I don’t think so, but I did join a few contests on some of those kid’s magazines we used to have...none of which I won.

Have you ever been called a skank/slut because of the way you dress? No.

Is your ex sexually attractive to you still? I haven’t seen her in 5 months, which helps...that said, I simply feel nothing. I’m neither sexually attracted nor not sexually attracted to her.

Describe the most romantic moment you’ve ever had. I can think of one but I don’t see the point in still raising it, considering where I am in life right now.

Have you ever cheated on a test? Yes, once. I hated it.

Have you ever been to couple’s counseling? Nope.

How often does your employer ask you to work overtime? A few times a week. Sometimes I’ll do it willingly as well just to get the task over with or to save myself some deliverables the next morning. I’m fine with OT-ing tbh; since I work from home, I feel like my time is a lot more flexible.

Did you often read for fun when you were a kid? I read A LOOOOOT as a kid. I was a total bookworm. < Yeah, same. You could always find me bringing a book to school and reading during breaks, even though they technically didn’t allow us to bring any non-academic book. My spark for reading died when I was around 12, same time as when my depression started to kick in, and it never really came back.

When was the last time you were scared? Someone from the media called me up yesterday VIA LANDLINE to ask a question about a press release I had sent out that day. I usually read up on the materials we have, but I honestly didn’t give a shit about that particular story and didn’t really make an effort to know more about it, so I found myself stumped when he dropped the question. I ended up stalling for a bit before I was able to stutter an answer, so that was scary, but at least he was nice. Also, I hate phone calls.

What’s your favorite song by Rihanna? KISS IT KISS IT BETTER

Can you speak binary? No, I never understood it.

Would you rather live somewhere that had hurricanes or tornadoes? I already do, at least for hurricanes. I imagine I’d be terrified of tornadoes.

Have you ever had a pet that you disliked? Nooooooo, never. I was never close to Arlee but I still did my best for her to like me, and always fed her whenever my sister would be in her dorm.

When was the last time you saw hail? Never. Doesn’t happen all that often here, and when it does it’s always in the provinces.

What is on your mind right this second: I want to spend my remaining time awake reading fanfic (I’m into them again, omg) but I also wanna finish surveys...so I’m doing my best to breeze through this so I can finally look for something to read hahahahaha.

Have you ever given a nickname to your pet(s)? Cooper is Cooperino to me. Sometimes I’ll call him Cooperino Cappuccino. Kimi is Kimchi, Kimmerl, Kimberly, The Kimster, and sometimes Lolo, which is grandpa in Filipino heheh.

When was the last time you shaved your legs? Like 3 or 4 days ago.

Do you ever try free samples at the store? Nope.

Do you like boys with long hair? Physical traits don’t matter much to me.

Do you like rootbeer? I’ve never tried it but I don’t really want to either haha. It smells weird.

What is the best fast food place, in your opinion? KFC or Taco Bell. Or Jollibee.

Do you have faith in yourself? Starting to.

#survey #surveys

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damn-stark · 4 years

Text

Crossed Stars Bonus Chapter

Takes place between Ch.7 & Ch.8

A/N- we’re moving onto endgame! You know what that means five year time jump! And for that I decided to make this cool bonus chapter! There is some writing that matters to the story coming forth so 😏 but beside that this will include just “posts” from the characters! Let me know what you thought!! Also I couldn’t post a lot of the posts because I can only post 10 pictures but if you all want more let me know! I have way more “posts”

Warning- fluff, ANGST

Pairing- Poe Dameron x reader, Steve Rogers x reader

(Let me know if you want to be tagged)

———

2020

2021

2022

2023

—

Its crazy to think that five years have passed, that you have been down in this strange planet for five years. What’s even crazier is that Steve and you have been together for four of those years (almost five). Well maybe dating him for that long wasn't that strange now that you thought it through, mainly because throughout those five years Poe has stuck around, even after the disaster confession that almost destroyed your friendship completely.

And saying that it wasn’t completely changed after that day was a lie, it was just you trying to be optimistic and trying to forget the fact that he hardly talked to you for a year, that he had confessed his love for you, a confession you neither returned or commented anything at all actually. Just left your own confession, the whole conversation locked in a box to never be opened (hopefully not anyway)

Why was the need to do so anyway? It’s been five years. Five years of the both of you just living life and acting as if nothing happened, him trying to date and you forgetting your feelings for your long time friend and being....happy...with Steve. It was all just going great. Really great!

To the point where both Steve and you chose to go on a double date with Poe and his date.

Great.

“It’s not to late to leave, you know?” You whisper to Steve as you get walked to your table, “we can still catch that Rom-com movie we wanted to see.”

Said man chuckles as he pulls your chair for you to sit, pushing it in a couple seconds after before commenting with the same humor, “and miss this great date? No.”

You groan dramatically and drop your head on his shoulder. Letting him wrap his arm around your shoulder and rest his own head on yours, “it won’t be that bad. Poe and you are good right?”

You shrug and lift your head off his shoulder, “yeah. He’s been distant lately but we’re good.”

As if you had been summoning him said man appears, following after the waiter with a small and pretty brunette at his side. They both sit across from Steve and you, the girls eyes landing on you before landing on Steve sitting next to you, a wide grin appearing on her soft features and her eyes almost seeming to give a glow as she keeps staring at Steve all star-struck—a look you now recognized only after seeing them another other people before.

“Hi, I’m so glad you guys could make it.” You greet with a forced smile, “almost thought you were going to bail.”

“You wish.” Poe jokes making your eyes roll. He then moves his hand and places it on the girls back, whispering something in her ear that made her look away from Steve to look at you with the same happy grin. An action that ticked you off for an unknown reason. “Kacy, this is y/n.” Said girl extends her hand out to you.

“Hi it’s so nice to finally meet you! Poe talks about you a lot, almost thought he was making you up.”

You shake her hand and keep your forced smile plastered on your lips, “it’s nice to meet you too.” You glance at Steve to try and introduce him, even you knew she him, “this is Steve.”

Kacy moves to shake his hand, her green eyes once again giving off that sparkle, “it’s such an honor meeting you.” Steve smiles and her eyes keep glued on him as she speaks to Poe, “you never told me we were coming to dinner with Captain America.”

Poe responded with a serious tone that didn’t match his smile at all, “It was a surprise.”

After ordering your food, after getting it brought to the table the girl never stopped talking. But unlike the other girls Poe’s dated, Kacy was...how do you say it in a way that didn’t sound rude, uhh..less of an airhead. She actually talked about dilemmas that went on around the world, and or talked about her job as a fashion designer. She was smart, but here’s the thing, every time she talked it was all just directed to Steve. And yes you couldn’t blame her, in her planet he was a famous hero, but she could be considerate to her actual date.

The only moment she even slightly included anybody else was to talk to you, to ask if Steve had proposed yet. It was question that you simply answered with pressed lips and a shake of your head. While Steve chose to stay silent, just making the whole conversation more awkward. Making Poe chug the remainder of his beer to ease the awkward situation on his part, his mood deflating and growing quieter than he already was. Something that let you speak to him to try and at least make him feel somewhat better.

“How you liking it so far?” You questioned Poe, who’s eyes were fixated on his plate, his hand just mindlessly twirling the pasta on his fork, not noticing you asked him something until you repeated your question.

“Oh, uh. It’s good.” He forced, a half smile tugging at his lips, “wouldn’t mind food from home though. I miss it.”

You nod in agreement, sharing a small laugh at a passing memory, “you know what I miss the most? Snaps food creations. His mixture of food from the rations we would get!”

“Yes exactly! Man even if the rations by themselves were tasteless he had a way to just make them taste gourmet.” Poe beamed, “he would always say he was going to retire and become a chef.” His smile faltered at the memory of his fallen friend, “I miss him.”

“Yeah me too.” Noticing Poe’s mood begin to drop back to what it was before, you decided to leave Kacy unbothered and let her talk Steve’s ear off. “I never told you but when we were starting out in the defense fleet, I uhh....” you pause and cringe at your next comment, “I had a crush on Captain Antilles.” You glance up at Poe who now had a wide grin, his white teeth showing perfectly.

“Oh sweetheart I noticed. I would hear you and the other girl pilots gush about him. I would also see the heart eyes you gave that man when he wasn’t looking. But I do think your eyes widened more when we saw Luke Skywalker.” Poe teased, dropping his fork on his plate and fully engaging with your conversation.

“I could’ve died happy that day we saw Luke Skywalker.” You laugh, “plus you can’t blame me, Antilles was a war veteran. He fought alongside Luke Skywalker and General Organa. He was a walking legend and one of my favorite pilots.”

“You said that about Han Solo, Luke Skywalker and Anakin Skywalker.” His grin turns smug, leaning himself closer to you to ask a ridiculous question. “If you had to choose between those three and Captain Antilles, who would you chose—”

“Don’t.” You interrupt, “I’m not choosing favorites, that’s impossible.”

“Fine,” Poe shrugged, his smug demeanor never fading, “then who would you choose to join your squadron?”

“Pfft,” You breath, rolling your eyes in a lighthearted way whilst leaning in as he did to respond with the obvious answer, “Easy, Han Solo. Only because he did the Kessel run in 15 parsecs.”

“Ah,” Poe shook his finger before you both corrected your answer in unison, “12 parsecs.” The both of you share a hearty laugh, the moment being like it would be before. Feeling like it was just you two and no one else in the room.

The feeling quickly vanishing as Kacy joined the conversation, “what’s so funny?”

“Oh, uhh.” You glance at Poe, both of your laughs dying off and only leaving faint smiles, “just stuff from back home.”

Kacy nods before turning to Poe, “I think it’s time to go. We’re all done with our food.”

“Sure thing.” Steve agrees, waving over the waiter for the tab.

“How about we all go back to the compound?” Poe oddly suggested, his eyes sliding over to you, “I learned a song on my guitar I would love to play.”

Without verbally asking for an answer, Steve and you shared an unspoken conversation as you both looked to each-other, minutes later sharing out loud your response, “sounds great.”

“How about you come over tonight?” Steve asks while tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, while you wait for Poe to come back down with his guitar. “We can watch a movie? And in the morning I can make you breakfast?”

You wrap your arms around his neck and smile, “watch a movie?”

“Or whatever you want to do.” He grins.

You bite your bottom lip and nod, “a movie is fine.” At the sound of approaching footsteps you pull away and sit on the couch beside Steve, with Kacy sitting at his other side, a huge smile on her red lips as she watched Poe.

“I just learned this, so don’t judge. I’m looking at you y/n.”

“I would never,” You snicker before propping your elbow on the couch’s arm and resting your head on your hand, “go. I won’t judge.”

Poe takes a deep breath before he begins to strum the strings, his eyes downcast and focused on what he was beginning to play, the silent strumming beginning to sound like the tune of a song. A quiet humming coming from the back of his throat before he drawled in another deep breath and slowly began to sing. His voice sounding soft and sweet like the melody of the music, the tune slowly picking up like the lyrics he sang.

His brown eyes coming up for a few seconds to meet your own, a soft smile appearing on his lips as he noticed the amazed expression you carried on your features. Tears slowly thereafter brimming your eyes, the soft smile on your own lips never leaving, the sound of your heart thumping in your chest picking up gradually at the brief glances Poe would share with you. Or at the little things you noticed, like the way his, his eyes briefly closed at certain moments, or the way his eyes crinkled when he sang certain lyrics.

Stars.

The tears that pooled your eyes, quickly ran down your cheeks as the sound of lyrics Poe sang hit your ears, words that touched your heart more than it should have ‘and its been a while but I still feel the same..Maybe I should let you go.’

More hot tears streamed down your cheeks as he continued singing, words that tore your heart in two and made you question everything all over again. Slowly coming to realization about something more, about feelings that never left. The feeling becoming overwhelming to the point that it made you rush out of the room and close yourself in the bathroom.

“Fuck me.” You cursed under your breath, running your hands through your hair before placing them on the counter-top. “What’s wrong with me?” Turning on the faucet you placed your hands under the running water, pulling them to splash your face only to drop the water as you remembered the makeup on your face—which was mostly ruined by the stains the tears left behind. “Stupid.”

The sound of the light tapping on the door made you pull away from the mirror to slowly open the door to see Steve with a worried expression painted on his face—“are you okay?”

You nodded and lied, “yeah, I just wasn’t feeling good.”

“You sure?” He pressed, his hand reaching to caress your cheek.

Responding with a silent hum you walked out back to the living area, meeting Poe gaze for a second before looking away and excusing yourself out to the group.

“It’s been a fun night, I really enjoyed it,” you feign a smile, “but uh I’m not feeling that well, you know I—”

“You’re pregnant?” Kacy interrupted abruptly and too enthusiastically, causing Poe to choke on the water he was drinking and for your eyes and Steve’s own to widen alike.

“What?!” You squeak, “no! Haha no. No. No.” Was that too many “No’s?” “It was the food, I just don’t think it sat well. I’m going to go to bed. It was nice meeting you Kacy.” Without waiting for an answer from anyone you walked away knowing Steve was following.

“Y/n, are you sure you’re okay?” He stressed again.

Turning around you stop before him and nod, “yeah. Is it fine if I go over another night? I’m not feeling okay.”

“Sure.” Steve agreed with hidden disappointment, his eyes catching Poe’s curious gaze on you before he turned away. “Goodnight. I love you.”

You smile sweetly and press a light kiss on his lips, “night.”

—

May 5 2023, couple days before the events of endgame. (Since I don’t know the actual month the events actually take place I just guessed)

(A/N- this chapter just complicates my feelings for both men..UGHHHH!! The bonus scene literally made me cry, ughh So again I ask, Team Dameron? Or Team Rogers?!! Also these relationships, especially the one with Poe and reader has been one of my favorites to write and develop. I’m so proud of it and I hope you guys like it too.) Also Future chapters is finally Endgame!!!

Tagged- @itsbuckyb1tch, @kaitlynw011 , @blushingwueen , @80sthottie, @thescarletknight2014 , @bbuckysbeardd , @ellvswriting , @sakurashortstack , @whatthefrickfrackwereyouthinking , @danicalifxrnia , @lanatheawesome , @perryoncw , @panic-onthegroundsofbrooklyn , @abysshaven , @valeecruz16 , @gummy-bears16 , @winchescumberholland , @a-somehow-functioning-dumbass , @randomhanabananas , @just-a-sad-chicken-nugget-xxx

Permanent taglist- @ms-dont-care , @commondazy

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nomanwalksalone · 4 years

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ALTERNATIVE STYLE ICON: RICHARD CHAMBERLAIN IN WALLENBERG: A HERO’S STORY

by Réginald-Jérôme de Mans

The writer George Santayana famously wrote that those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it. Ironically many who repeat his quote forget who first uttered it.

I had long meant to write about Richard Chamberlain in this role. I once referred to him as “the fey king of the miniseries” and I don’t regret it: foppish, almost milquetoast in fare as varied as a two-part TV version of The Bourne Identity (with Jaclyn Smith, natch), Shogun, and as a leading candidate for an honorary Seinfeld puffy shirt: Not only did he play the Count of Monte Cristo in a 1975 TV movie, but a bunch of what Elaine Benes would have called chandelier-swinging characters in other Dumas adaptations, including Aramis in Richard Lester’s The Three Musketeers and Louis XIV and his twin in The Man in the Iron Mask. Postmodern swashbuckler author Arturo Perez-Reverte even described a character in one of his own novels as looking “like Richard Chamberlain in The Thorn Birds, only more manly.” That same Thorn Birds role, Father Ralph de Bricassart, also inspired a certain Rhunette Ferguson to give her son, a future New York Jets player, perhaps my favorite name ever: D’Brickashaw.

Dubbing Chamberlain an Alternative Style Icon for his role as Swedish diplomat Raoul Wallenberg is low-hanging fruit. For years this TV special dwelt at the bottom of my Netflix queue for that express purpose. Former Savile Row tailors Manning & Manning won an Emmy award for the outfits they made for him; decades later Bryan Manning had some very interesting things to say to the inimitable Simon Crompton of Permanent Style about the 1930s and 1940s cutting styles he had to adopt for Chamberlain’s outfits for the movie. Chamberlain’s costumes are appropriately dashing, from the full diplomatic gala white tie ensemble worn while conspiring with the Papal Nuncio of Budapest to a tan double-breasted suit with horizontal peaked lapels that is, quite simply, magnificent. Zagreb, one of the most beautiful cities in eastern Europe, admirably filled in for 1940s Budapest and Stockholm in the making of this production. I’m fairly certain that I’ve stayed at the Zagreb hotel on whose esplanade Chamberlain wore that suit, in an early expository scene where the American and Swedish governments encourage Wallenberg to take a position with the Swedish legation in Budapest. I’ve been told Zagreb’s one of two cities in Europe where the street lamps in certain neighborhoods are still gaslit. Gaslighting happens to have been one of the reasons that I finally wrote about this icon.

Of course there’s plenty to mock in the conventions of this telefilm, even beyond Chamberlain’s indisputable 1970s and 1980s stock hero status: its heavy-handed setup and plotting, making Wallenberg out to be a one-man anti-Nazi force from his time at home in Sweden (wearing a U. Michigan sweatshirt to indicate that he had studied in the US - did college sweatshirts even exist back then?). Miniseries meant melodrama and its archetypal characters: an adorable child whom Wallenberg saves from the death camps only to die of illness; a shoehorned-in love interest in the form of a kindhearted baroness who lobbies her suspicious husband to relax the Hungarian government's strictures on Jews; a fiery Hungarian resistance fighter who provides the unofficial, combative counterpoint to Wallenberg’s diplomatic, humanitarian efforts through official channels. And, of course, Wallenberg’s kidnapping by the Soviets at the fall of Budapest meant his story was perfectly framed for 1985, when we still couldn’t trust those Russians. (In fact, to this day no one knows what they did with him.)

A few appropriately haunting and powerful moments do ring true, including Wallenberg’s cordial verbal fencing matches over contraband Scotch and cigarettes with Adolf Eichmann. Whether those meetings really took place in that form or not, their film versions appropriately capture the realities of how we are forced to engage with evil. Rarely are we simply battling an easily identifiable other, weapon to weapon. Instead, we encounter evil in the everyday – in fact, it seeks us out, finds shared ground, converses with us over pleasantries and hospitality even as we recognize its intentions. It identifies with us, we identify with it. Even as you know it is evil.

Eichmann had made it his avowed duty to kill the Jews of Europe. Wallenberg’s mission, as an emissary of an officially neutral power, was to help save as many as he could. And he did, through famously fearless, reckless endeavors including the distribution of thousands of official-looking Swedish passes to the Jews of Budapest, the creation of vast cultural centers and warehouses in the Swedish mission buildings in which these new countrymen could work under the aegis of their adoptive country, and savvy diplomatic maneuvering with the Hungarian and German authorities and military. He went as far as to climb on top of a train bound for Auschwitz and distribute passes to as many deportees as he could while soldiers fired shots at him. Looking back, historians suggest they were firing over his head to warn him as they could easily have dropped him at that range, but it’s not likely Wallenberg knew that at the time.

At that time diplomats of neutral powers could make fortunes more safely as armchair heroes: playboy Porfirio Rubirosa reportedly did so in Paris selling visas to the Dominican Republic to French Jews during World War II. In that respect, perhaps, both he and Wallenberg were heroes… of different sorts.

Wallenberg did not do it for money. The Wallenbergs were Swedish aristocracy (with, the film takes pains to remind us, an ounce of Jewish blood) with considerable means – hence the finely tailored wardrobe for Chamberlain. Thus, an easy cynical response to this essay could be that a rich aristocrat with diplomatic immunity risked nothing swanning around the salons of Budapest, just like the fictional gentleman spies we read about and watch on screen.

That response is wrong. Heroism is not just born of opportunity. It is recognizing when a choice confronts you and taking the difficult, unpopular and dangerous one in order to do what is right. Fictional heroes like Bond or Steed rarely suffer meaningful personal loss and rarely confront the reality of evil. Evil is your friend with many positive qualities, maybe more intelligent or cultured or better dressed than you, the one you looked up to, who gradually reveals the awful things he or she believes and has done. Evil is those complicit in carrying out those things by their inaction, their credulity, or their cooperation, not at the point of a gun but of a paycheck. Evil is legal, logically explained, repeated and reported until its baseless reasoning becomes fact and the foundation for more lies, more evil. Evil can so easily become the system.

Hindsight is a handicap, for it doesn’t usually permit us to see that there were no times without ambiguity in battles between good and evil and no certainty that good triumphs. We have the privilege of retrospect to acknowledge the dashing diplomat in Savile Row suits was a hero for saving innocents from deportation and death as part of the most ghastly genocide in history. We learned what genocide is, and had to invent the word to describe it. Because at that time the people singled out for persecution and death were unpopular, historically, socially and legally marginalized, supposedly easily identifiable and classifiable. A group that societies had made it easy - through regulation, ghettoization, oppression and antagonism – to hate, and whole false narratives drawn up to explain why that group hated and wanted to destroy us even more than we them.

One of A Hero’s Story’s most timely and inspiring lines is Wallenberg’s reply to the Hungarian ruler’s query why the King of Sweden cared so much about the Jews of another country, when he was a Christian. Wallenberg reminded the prime minister that the King’s “concerns transcend religion or national borders.” That concern is humanity, our lowest common denominator, our shared recognition of our capacity for suffering. That concern drove a man to acts of incredible selflessness, a generous mercy that seems to have cost him his liberty and his life. There is no romance to Raoul Wallenberg’s fate. It is worth remembering that he probably saw little romance in the actions he took in Budapest.

Now is no less an unromantic time, no less a time when others – so many different others –are easily denigrated, feared, distrusted, brutalized. Otherization, both of many within our borders and pressing against them, has returned, as has fascism, with apologists blandly elegant or brutally populist, like some inauspicious comet in our skies. Now, again, is a time for heroes – men and women who recognize how difficult and dangerous it is to do what is right. That struggle is far from those of Chamberlain’s habitual roles swashbuckling against a monolithic, universally despicable, evil. Evil is among us, habituating us, desensitizing us, gaslighting us. Far from frills and fanfare, celebration, or certainty of triumph, can we place ourselves in Wallenberg’s Budapester shoes and do what is right?

Quality content, like quality clothing, ages well. This post first appeared on the No Man blog in February 2017.

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hes-writer · 5 years

Text

One Of My Own (3)

Summary: Harry falls out of love

Warnings: angst, fluff

Word Count: 6.5k

Before you read: so the whole pt3 won’t fit in this one post. i’ll be posting the other part tmr, but for now, please enjoy this [badly] written piece. i think i just got too in my head with trying to keep up to standards so i don’t think its the best writing i’ve done. ENJOY! (ps this is unedited)

It had been an excruciatingly agonizing past few months for Y/N. All of her assumptions had been proven true, and nothing hurts more than hoping and praying for days that what you presumed isn’t true, but life sometimes likes to take you by surprise hitting you square in the face. It obviously took a toll on her; not only emotionally, but also mentally and physically.

Her mind was an on-going cycle of paranoia and she couldn’t stop her heart from beating so hard every time someone she knew made a promise to her. Maybe Y/N had trust issues—it was a probable outcome—and it made her a little more hesitant when meeting new people, made her brain hurt from ruminating if what they intended with her was what they really showed.

Physiologically, it was as if her heartstrings had been stretched, pulled to their extent and it had broken—she felt like she could really die from a broken heart. A vast hole in her chest sucked in gallons of energy from her; she was tired. Y/N was exhausted of being used and abused over and over again–she couldn’t handle another blow, especially after Harry made the ultimate heartbreaking move by switching her for Daniella. There was a void in her that couldn’t be filled by anything, regardless of how much she tried. It seemed that only Harry and his love had the power to do that. Y/N knew that she shouldn’t even *consider giving Harry another chance with her, but she was extremely desperate to be fixed: to be normal again and most importantly, to not feel alone.

It was pathetic, really. Some people wouldn’t consider giving their ex a second chance, but here was Y/N daydreaming about what they could be doing now instead of hating his guts. She dozes off in the distance more frequently, chin in her hand while she stared at the empty space in front of her during lecture. In her mind, there was a screen that played happy times of her and Harry. Both of their faces glowing from the wide grins set on their faces. Her eyes were glowing and she could imagine that Harry’s green ones were filled with adoration meant for her and her only. It was a torturous move to let herself envision the good moments when in reality, Y/N looked and felt like the complete opposite of what she wanted to be.

Y/N was isolated from the world. It was a gradual process; she didn’t even notice how detached she became until her phone lit up in messages from her friends asking her if she could ‘hang out’ or some concerned emails about her health and well-being. That was the moment when Y/N discerned that she wasn’t the same person that she used to be with Harry. She could feel her whole being slipping into the abyss she once stood in before meeting him, and she didn’t know what to do. Would it be fair for her to live a fake, plastic life pretending to be happy with Harry when all she wanted to do was to yell at him and punch his chest to somehow project the pain she was feeling physically? Or would she rather live a life quarantined from the world even when she was surrounded by people who cared for her? (Did they really?)

As stereotypical as it sounded, it was as if everyone but Y/N was living life to the fullest. Even though some were breaking at the seems, they still held it together and plastered a fake smile whereas Y/N could feel her brows start to crease when a person began to tap her shoulder. Conversations were disappearing from her domain, and with that came interaction with people. Like she said, Y/N wasn’t the same because of him.

The version of herself that she personified when Harry brought out the ‘best’ in her had vanished into the wild; lost and hard to find. That person will never come back because things can never be the same no matter how much she wished for it—no matter how hard he prayed for it if he did. Sometimes Y/N wondered if Harry had changed–obviously, he did, otherwise, they would still be together right now– if he still slept on the right side of the bed. If he still pushed away his Brussel sprouts–surprisingly– because he was known as a health nut. Y/N questioned if he acted the same with Daniela.

It hurt to think about it, honestly. Although Y/N could reminisce the sweet moments, it soon becomes overshadowed by the image of Harry and her sister. She wondered if he held Daniela tightly to his chest at night because he was having a nightmare. He woke up in a sweat a handful of times, sitting up on the bed with his shirt drenched in sweat. His eyes were wild but glossy with incoming tears and he would look at Y/N staring at him with the utmost worry in her eyes. He would hug her, then, cradle her tight in his strong arms and whispered how much he was afraid to lose her. She wondered if it was the same with Daniela.

—–

It had been six months. Ironically, Y/N and Harry were together for six months, and in the exact same time, they broke up six months ago. They would’ve been celebrating their one year anniversary. Upon seeing the date that day, Y/N couldn’t help but let it affect her– as much as it shouldn’t have— because it reminded her of a ‘what if’. What if she nipped the growing distance between them right at the bud? What if she became more courageous and let herself run the thoughts running through her head? What would’ve happened if she sat the both of them down and confronted them about how she felt? Things surely would’ve been different and Y/N sometimes wished for a second chance at it.

Six months had passed since Y/N’s parents had seen their daughter. Their divorce had been finalized and they were officially separated. It was a mutual decision; their feelings weren’t the same and they were aware of it. It was best to split before things could escalate and they’d only hurt each other. They remained friends, however, because they had a family after all and they still needed to keep communication with each other regarding their children. Y/N’s parents reminded her of her and Harry’s relationship; they walked away before it got worse, except it wasn’t mutual and it definitely got worse way before they split. And it was only Harry who tainted the relationship with infidelity–emotional cheating was what they called it.

Parental concern was heavy in the household and Marga (Y/N’s mom) had contacted Robert (Y/N’s dad) because she was worried about their daughter. It had been a while since she reached out to them. There was no news heard from her and any parent would freak just by the thought of it. Marga contacted her daughter when Y/N was out of class; she had Y/N’s schedule, but she never answered. It rang sometimes, but recently it was always directed to voicemail, almost as if she didn’t want anybody reaching her. Robert, on the other hand, had suspicions as to why Y/N was acting this way. He wasn’t certain, but his hunch had been so strong that he couldn’t let but let Daniela and Harry’s name slip up

***

“Do you remember that boy, Harry?” Robert asked, sitting at the other end of the dining table from his ex-wife.

“Dani’s boyfriend?” Robert couldn’t help but shake his head.

“No, he came with Y/N for Christmas remember?”

“Do you think he’s got something to do with it?” Marga gasped out, hands flying to cover her opened mouth. She was already thinking the worst of Harry despite knowing him fairly well as Daniela’s boyfriend.

On the other side of the wall, Carlos sharpened his hearing to catch all the words his parents were saying. He was the only person whom Y/N kept in contact with the family. She had explained to what had happened in a phone call one night. Carlos answered the house phone when it rang urgently when he got home from school and heard his sisters’ broken voice through the speaker. He was alarmed– as any sibling would be– Y/N sounded absolutely distraught and she couldn’t stop the sobs sputtering out of her mouth, just like the words of the events flowed out as well.

Carlos felt anger and confusion. He knew that his other sister (Daniela) was sinister in a sense. She got what she wanted because she shoved everyone out of the way. She did it to him and she did it the most with Y/N. Carlos was the one that held her older sister in her arms when Daniela emerged victorious *again from capturing something that was Y/N’s first. He really shouldn’t be surprised by the news that Harry had gone for Dani.

Y/N and Carlos were probably the closest duo in their family of five and he had listened to Y/N gush about Harry multiple times. They texted each other like they were the best of friends and he sent a puking emoticon every time Y/N swooned over something Harry did; all joking of course. Carlos felt like he knows Harry, even though they haven’t met– the first being Christmas holidays when his favorite sister spent most of her time wallowing in her childhood bedroom. He knew that Harry was good to Y/N because she said so and he honestly hadn’t seen Y/N have as much fun as she did when she was with him. But seeing the way he acted with Dani during the holidays– he should’ve known that Dani was capable of hurting Y/N to the point where it was horrifying.

Carlos thought that it was impossible to hate somebody, much less your own flesh and blood but he was pretty close to detesting Daniela because of her actions. She was–in his own words– an evil step-sister that cared for nobody else but herself. In summary, hearing his parents formulate a theory about Y/N’s disappearance was hard because all he wanted to do was burst out of his hiding spot and yell out the reason why she was being like this.

It’s your other daughter’s fault, Carlos thought and he wasn’t one bit ashamed to reveal that he doesn’t consider Dani a sister anymore. And he knows that once their parents find out, they would put her through hell before accepting Dani again. They were fair models and they reprimanded Daniela back when she was in high school; it would be a repeat.

——

To say that Y/N was disconnected was an understatement. She was so cut off from everybody that she didn’t even know that Daniela had started studying in the same university as her. And God, did it take her by surprise when she saw her sisters’ head of hair, leaning against a guy while she bent over laughing. The flirtatious look in her eyes was strong enough that Y/N could see it from where he hid behind a pole.

What is she doing here? Y/N thought. Dani should’ve been out of the country by now, continuing her travels. But apparently not because she was standing right there and oh.

Harry walked up the stone path towards Dani, books in hand while he greeted her with a smile. He should’ve finished his History lecture by now. Before, Y/N would wait for him under the big oak tree beside the History building and they would lean their backs against it while they relaxed. Now, Y/N watched as Daniela stood under said tree while Harry pulled out a blanket from his bag to lay on the ground for them to sit on.

———-

It wasn’t always like this. Harry and Daniela were seated under the oak tree beside the History building and Y/N remembered how they would lean their backs against it while they relaxed. Now, Y/N watched as Daniela stood under said tree while Harry pulled out a blanket reminded that this was Y/N’s tree. This was the spot where she frequented in and where he found himself wandering too in hopes to see the beautiful girl again. And that woman became his girlfriend weeks later.

Harry shook his head in distress when he found himself reaching far back in his memories to play Y/N’s smiling face at him. Also, Daniela’s voice was steadily raising against his ear because apparently she’d been talking to him for a few minutes now and he hadn’t responded in a timely manner.

That was one of the things that rubbed Harry the wrong way. No matter what, Dani always found a way to start a shouting match between the two of them. He didn’t know if she thrived off of their fights (because they make up in the best ways) or if she just genuinely enjoyed pissing Harry off. Harry was a bit tired of its redundancy–the fights. It was all so unnecessary and sought after the tiniest things and he couldn’t handle it. He’d taken it upon himself to subtract himself from the room because his anger was about to reach a new level over Dani yelling at him for not telling her that she had a mustard stain on the side of her lip. He honestly didn’t even see the stain, but she had reprimanded him for ‘wanting to embarrass [her] in front of everybody.’

He knew that he shouldn’t but he can’t help but compare Dani to Y/N; a reminder of what he did before he decided to leave the latter. Comparing them was sort of like second nature to him. They were sisters, it was kind of hard not to pick on Dani’s exceptional talents where Y/N’s lacked, and how Y/N was much kinder than Dani. Y/N wouldn’t have shouted at him and probably would’ve laughed it off with him.

There he goes again, thinking about his ex like she was the best thing that ever happened to him–maybe she was though and he just didn’t see it yet. But he was bending backward and forwards weighing out the pros and cons of each relationship as if he still had a chance with Y/N. He was such a fool to let her down like that.

There was no verbal evidence that they broke up, but they both knew they did. The kiss they shared was the last one they’ll ever have with each other. With that single touch of their lips, an over-pouring load of emotions was drained from the thickest parts of their veins and coursed through each others’ in exchange to remember each other by. He was such a fool to hurt somebody the way that he did to Y/N and Harry was slowly coming to the realization that Y/N was the better Y/L/N.

———–

“Do you feel guilty sometimes?” Harry questioned in a ghostly voice. His eyes piercing a hole in the television screen while his mind became fuzzy.

Daniela looked up to his face from her position on Harry’s chest.

“Guilty? About what?”

“About us,”

“Why would I be guilty about us?” She asked, sitting up on the couch to look at him clearly. The brown blanket falls on the floor.

Harry gulped seeing his girlfriend’s stern eyes staring at him.

“I-it’s just,” He began, “What we did to Y/N was pretty shitty,”

Dani pursed her lips in acknowledgment. “Don’t you think?”

“I don’t know, Harry. She’s probably used to it,” Dani answered, wanting the conversation to end right then and there.

“But don’t you think we should check in on her or something?” Harry tried to explain. “It’s been a while and I think it’s time we all talk,”

“What are you saying? You want to see her? Or maybe you want to get back together with her?” Dani continuously raised her voice at him. She was throwing accusations and jumping into conclusions with a far reach. “You’re going to leave me for her, aren’t you?

Harry gasped at her last statement, immediately shaking his head ‘no’ that made him dizzy. His hands shoot up from their resting position on his lap to grasp Dani’s flailing arms, trying to calm her down.

“No, of course not. I just thought it would be nice and all,”

“I can’t believe this,” Dani stands up, slightly pacing against the rug of her living room.

Harry copied her actions, his full height causing her to be intimidated, but she didn’t show it.

“What?”

And for a moment, Daniela almost spilled everything she worked hard for. “After everything, you still want to be with her?”

“I didn’t say that,” He was getting frustrated by the way she was acting and he couldn’t put his finger on it. “I told you, I feel guilty,”

“Guilty? You’re feeling guilty for Y/N?” She exasperated. “For that bitch?”

He furrowed his brows from the language. He didn’t expect Dani to use it, nor did he have a clue as to why she would describe Y/N as such.

“Why would you call her that?”

Fear flashed in Dani’s eyes and she had to come up with something believable before he found out the truth.

“Y/N, … she was very mean to me when we were younger,” Dani sat down on the couch. Harry urged her on to continue, assuming that this was a hard thing for Dani to talk about but really she was just stalling to get her story straight. “She got everything she wanted,”

“I really don’t see why you woul–”

“No! She got everything. She stole my friends, my boyfriends. She got everybody’s attention and I know she had you first but you chose me in the end,” Dani cuts him off. “Y/N’s not even here but she’s taking you away from me,”

Harry was confused. He could never imagine Y/N being as cruel as Dani had described her to be. After their lengthy relationship, all he saw of her was a genuine lady that couldn’t even hurt a fly. I guess I really didn’t know her, Harry thought.

“She really did that?”

Dani nodded, wiping away a fake stray tear. “I don’t know what I did to her and I asked her to stop but she still did it,”

“I don’t want to lose you too, Har” He pressed a kiss on the top of her head, leaning in for a hug that she voluntarily engulfed herself in. “I love you,”

“I love you too.”

It was a white lie from Daniela. She didn’t want to lose Harry, but it wasn’t because she loved him. Hell, no. After everything lengths and measure she went through just to take him away from Y/N, you would think that it was the action of someone in love. Not Dani, her actions had a completely different meaning and that was to hurt Y/N as much as she can.

Being older meant that Dani always got shit blamed for things she didn’t do and she’s had enough of it. When she came home from school with a ‘C-’ printed test paper in hand, her head was hung in shame. Her parents scolded her like no tomorrow and she could still hear their voices echoing in the back of her head. Then, not minutes later did Y/N enter the room with the same mark printed on her paper and she got nothing but praised for how much she ‘did her best’ and that they were proud of her.

Daniela was enraged, to say the least. Everything she did wrong, Y/N got a free pass if she did the same thing and it wasn’t fair. Y/N had the nerve to not see what was going on and that made Dani really angry. So, she studied twice as hard to get better marks but she didn’t improve the way she’d like. Dani was getting impatient because Y/N was acquiring A’s left and right, and Dani didn’t know how many celebration dinners she could handle of her parents telling her to ‘be more like Y/N’.

Her last result was to cheat; she got better marks then. At first, she felt guilty, but there was something exhilarating in getting caught but she thought that *that feeling wouldn’t compare to when she sees her parents’ face when she hands them the paper. Except, they barely gave her a second glance, as if they didn’t care. It was heartbreaking for Dani. Especially when on that day, her parents proposed to eat dinner at a restaurant and she thought that it was a surprise celebration for her, but it turned out to be Y/N’s night. Again.

Maybe it was immature for her to act the way she did, but nothing could ever erase the hurt she felt. In Dani’s mind, Y/N deserved everything that she did to her. Stealing her boyfriends? Sure, it probably hurt, but it wasn’t the same as seeing their own parents’ eyes look at Y/N as if she was some saint when she corrected her mistakes when Y/N did the exact same thing.

———

Y/N was a ghost, not only in a sense that she didn’t really speak to anyone but also as if everybody could see right through her. She guessed that her face permanently withheld a somber expression because people would give her sympathetic looks when she walked down the large hallway. One professor even pulled her aside to speak to her about her dropping grades, asking if there was anything going on at home that could’ve triggered this change.

Everybody was treating her like she was fragile and she was absolutely sick of it. It was a reach, but it reminded her of the way Harry treated her when they were still together. He was the most gentle person towards her and her melted every time his voice caressed her ears.

“Hello, want to be partners?” A questioned interrupted Y/N from her thoughts.

“Uh, for what?”

The boy looked at her curiously as if he was trying to see if she was being serious or not. “Because the prof said to find a partner and I noticed that you didn’t have one so,”

Y/N blinked at him when he trailed off, heading leaning to behind his body to see that, indeed, the monitor read, “Find a partner”

“Oh, sure” She replied, ducking down to pull out a notebook which she should’ve taken out ages ago. Y/N could still see the boy’s legs, unmoving in front of her. “You can sit, you know.”

“Of course, I’m Niall by the way,” He introduced himself and Y/N detects a hint of an accent.

“Y/N,” It was a simple response, and maybe she was a bit rude but she really couldn’t be bothered to acquaint with somebody new.

Niall was observant beside her. From her peripherals, he could see him intently listening to the instructions being given and she really should be doing the same but Y/N can’t help but observe his features. A twinge occurred inside her chest and she was briefly reminded of when her eyes looked at Harry’s face while he was still asleep. Y/N shook her head and faced the front completely.

“So what topic do you want to do?”

“Maybe defense mechanisms? That sounds interesting.”

“Sure!” Niall exclaimed, scribbling the topic down on his own notebook. The scrawls of pen on paper echoing against Y/N’s ears.

The professor dismissed the class before another word could be spoken between the two of them. Y/N gathers all of her belongings as quickly as she could, wanting to flop on her bed instead of being surrounded by people.

She just made it out of the door and into the hallway when she heard Niall yell her name. From the distance, Harry whipped his head towards the noise and his eyes search for Y/N.

“Y/N, Y/N, wait!” Niall was hopping on his toes, trying to catch up to her but she already paused her movements. She slightly smiled at his actions, having not done so in a long time.

Harry watched from meters away, seeing Y/N and Niall talk to each other. A pain in his chest knocked his breath out when he saw Y/N handing her phone to Niall.

“Hey! Gosh you’re quick,” Niall panted in front of her. “Can I get your number? Need ‘ta know when to work on this assignment,”

Y/N nodded but not before assessing him suspiciously; that was exactly what Harry said to her when he asked for her number. She had to reprimand herself for thinking about him again, handing her phone to Niall.

She watched as his thumbs tapped against the letters on the keyboard.

“Wait, take a picture of me for my photo,” Niall hands her back her phone, starting to pose while Y/N comprehends the situation. “It’s hard to remember me, got one of those faces,”

Y/N chuckled lightly at his joke, but she could also detect a serious undertone. The screen captures Niall’s smiling face and she shows it to him for approval.

“Nice, your turn,” Y/N slapped a smile on her face, and she felt like it was a genuine one at that.

“I’ll see you around, Ni”

“Ni? We’re on a nickname basis now, eh?” He said, nudging her side with his shoulder. Y/N giggles before bidding a final goodbye.

Both men watch Y/N walk away. Niall’s eyes linger on her for a few more seconds, feeling the energy around him deteriorate with Y/N’s presence. He’s been noticing her a lot more often these days; he could see that she was broken inside and even letting out a smile probably felt like carrying a ball and chain on her back. And Niall didn’t want to be some sort of hero that changed her, he was just wanted to see her smile once in a while.

On the other hand, Harry watched his former love exit the building doors. Maybe it was the distance between them, but Y/N looked a lot smaller than he remembered; as if she lost an abundance weight. His brain was trying to figure out if that was really Y/N because it didn’t look like Y/N that he didn’t notice Niall approaching him.

“Hey Harry, what are you doing here?” Niall greeted him with a hug. “You don’t have class in this area,”

“Just waiting for Dani,” Harry explained.

“Ahh thought you got lost again, Styles,”

“Who were you talking to earlier?” Harry asked even though he knew that it was Y/N. He just needed a confirmation.

“That was Y/N, pretty girl, right?” To which Harry was left befuddled. “Say, weren’t you dating a Y/N a while back?”

Harry and Y/N’s relationship was pretty lowkey.

“Yeah, actually” Niall proceeded to ask him what happened between them. “Turn out she wasn’t who I thought she was,”

“What do you mean?”

“She just did some pretty shitty stuff to her sister,”

“The heck? That’s fucked up man, glad you broke it off,”

Harry almost agreed.

—–

Y/N got off the train, her footsteps thudding against the wooden platform. Her bags were beside her and she was reminded of the last time she stepped foot in this place. She swiftly hailed a cab to shield herself from the cold.

Her parents’ house comes into view through the cab window. There was a car in the driveway and she assumed that it was her dad’s since he was living nearby. Her footsteps were slow, reminiscing every moment that played out in front porch; how Harry kissed her with passion before entering the house to entertain Daniela.

Y/N rang the doorbell, hearing thuds from inside the house with the excited yelling of ‘I’ll get it’ from Carlos, probably.

The door swung open before Carlos came into view.

“Y/N! I missed you,” He said, engulfing her into a hug that made her drop her bags on the floor. The comforting feel of her brother’s arms made her feel loved, and the scent of her mom’s cooking wafted to her nose.

When Y/N opened her eyes, she could see her parents approaching them, but not before ushering them inside to prevent frigid air from entering the house. Hugs and exchanges fluttered in the atmosphere, catching up to what each party missed.

“Let’s get you settled in before Harry and Dani come,” Her mom said, picking up one of her bags. That statement made Y/N freeze on the ‘welcome’ mat by the front door.

“Harry’s coming?” She questioned, slowly turning around to face her family as if she was a deer in front of the headlights.

Her parents shared a look before nodding.

“Why’s he coming?” Carlos sneered from beside Y/N, his eyes turning into slits at the thought of *Harry.

“What’s wrong with that? He’s your sister’s boyfriend,” Their mom answered back.

“N-nothing’s wrong! Just surprised is all,” Y/N answered making her way to the stairs.

————-

The second doorbell of the day had rung and being closest to the front door, Y/N was given the task to open it. She was dressed in matching pajamas and she wondered what Harry would think of her outfit. From the kitchen, she could hear her mother ask who was at the door.

Y/N grasped the doorknob tightly, preparing to boast the fakest smile in the world. “Hey guys,” She said, but she faltered when her eyes caught sight of Dani and Harry’s latched hands.

“Dani! Harry! I’m so glad you could come,” To her relief, her dad greets the couple inside.

Y/N takes small footsteps backward, hoping that her absence won’t be noticed.

———————

It was little way before dinner time when Y/N’s parents decided that the cat has to be pulled out of the bad. Y/N had been stuck in her room for the remainder of the day while the rest of them had caught with each others’ lives and bonded for the first time in a while. It was hard not to notice Y/N’s absence especially when she was usually the life of the party.

The moment Marga asked the question, “What’s going on with Y/N”, everybody in the room inhaled a collective breath as if this topic was expected to be brought up sooner or later.

“What do you mean?” Dani asked in a sickly sweet voice, her index finger was twirling a strand of Harry’s curls.

“Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed how much weight she lost,” Robert agreed. ”She looks sick.”

It was true. Y/N hadn’t been eating much since the breakup. It’s not like she purposefully decided to stop eating altogether, she just didn’t have much of the appetite to devour the needed daily intake to keep her looking healthy. Thus, she lost weight without even noticing it, but others’ certainly did. Y/N didn’t even feel sick or anything, not much else actually makes her want to do stuff anymore. Her face was pale as if she hadn’t been outside in months and her eyes have sunken into her cheeks. She was only existing now.

“I think she looks great, even better actually,” Dani murmured. “What? I’m serious, about time she lost some of that weight,”

“Please take this seriously, this is your sister we’re talking about,”

“Aren’t we always talking about her,” Dani huffed, rolling her eyes and a gasp could be heard throughout the room. Harry tries to shush, to which she shrugged the hand off of her shoulder.

“Whatever it is, I’m sure she’ll come to us if she needs help,” Harry answered, biting his lip to prevent him from saying anything more. Dani nodded in agreement with him, absolutely done with this talk.

“That’s a good idea. I guess you’re right, Harry,”

"I can’t believe you’re still letting him in this house after what he–they did to Y/N last time," Carlos scoffed, sitting up more comfortably on the couch cushions, “Harry left Y/N for Daniella and they don’t even feel guilty about it! She’s upstairs grieving right now while you guys don’t even care,”

Their parents are rendered speechless, instructing Carlos to check in on Y/N while they talk to Harry and Daniela. “Is it true? Harry nods. “Did you really have to do this again, Daniela?”

“Do what?” She responded Harry was confused once again.

”You knew Harry and Y/N were together but you stole him away from her like you did before,“ Marga shook her head at her daughter, her heartbreaking even more when she thought of the future of her family.

“She didn’t say anything! I thought she was fine with it,” Daniel defended herself, putting her hand up and sitting. Harry was shocked by the information.

“How could anyone be okay with that? And you, what kind of sick person are you?” Harry looked up to Robert, feeling like a small child being scolded.

“W-what do you mean like she did before?” He couldn’t have prepared himself for what was to come next.

Marga sighed, head shifting from Harry to her daughter, “Every guy Y/N’s been with, Dani always somehow steals them away from her,” Harry gulped at the extent of his actions. “We’ve talked about it before because I was sick of seeing my other daughter cry herself to sleep for a guy that left her,”

"Oh boohoo, it’s not my fault they want me more than her,” Dani picks on a manicured finger. Harry was appalled by her snide comment and he finds himself comparing the two sisters once again. Y/N would never say anything like that and this time for sure, there were no doubts in his head.

“She never said anything but it hurt her so much that she didn’t want to introduce anybody to you,” Robert admitted in a somber tone. "She was so scared that you’ll find a way to take it away from her– her happiness. We didn’t even know about Harry and now we know why,”

Everything was silent, even Harry’s thoughts stopped their hustling and bustling and he swore his heart could burst with guilt.

“Are you saying it’s my fault?“

“Yes, she’s your sister. You shouldn’t hurt her like this,” Harry quipped.

Dani gasped incredulously, “You’re taking her side now? God, why can’t she just stick up for herself for once!”

At this moment, Harry disconnected himself from the conversation. He was drifted off to the beginning of he and Y/N’s relationship; why Y/N never introduced Dani to him, nor did she speak about her. He was made aware of why she was so closed off from everyone when they first met and why it took a long time for them to get together– all because she was afraid and insecure of her sister.

And really, he can’t even blame Y/N for feeling this way. It must be so traumatic knowing that everything was done on purpose. Every horrendous action was done in the sole mission of hurting her. Harry felt bad, so bad that he wanted nothing more but to take her into his arms and never let her go. He would tell her that she was special and whisper sweet things in her ear– but he knew that she would never let her.

“We never raised you to be like this. You were aware of your actions but you still went through with them.” Marga spoke, “Are you that selfish?”

“So what if I am?” Dani retorted, biting back from her mom’s harsh words.

“Get out,” Robert said. Marga touched his shoulder, silently asking him to calm down and rethink his thoughts.

“Are you serious?“ and Harry himself was mute throughout.

“Family doesn’t hurt each other on purpose but you’ve done the worst to your own sister.” Her dad explained, “For now, I’m asking you to please leave until you’re ready to apologize to her,”

“You’re really pulling that one out? Then why did you and mom get a divorce, is it because you don’t love her anymore?” Dani aggravated. “Or you don’t feel the same way about him?”

Y/N silently tiptoes down the stairs with Carlos right behind her, hearing Daniela utter, “You guys act like you’re saints when you’re not!”

“I think that’s enough,” Y/N interrupted. Dani scoffed, “Look who it is, are you here to kiss their ass again?”

“I’m not and I never did,”

“That’s bullshit. And you,” She pointed at their parents, ”You really thought you were doing something, huh? Well, guess what, you guys really fucking suck and mom, did you know that your ex-husband here as a new family?”

Y/N warned Daniela again. “What? Don’t like hearing that dad has a new princess?”

“I said that’s enough,” Y/N balled her hands into fists, keeping them busy for the meanwhile.

“Can’t accept that you’ll always be the second choice? To dad and to sweet little, Harry?” Dani teased her in a mocking tone, lightly tapping her fingers on Harry’s arm as if she was taunting her. “How does it feel to know that he left you for me?”

“Okay, that’s it,” Y/N walked up to Dani, hand raising in the air to gain momentum for the hit that was about to come. Dani glanced up from looking at Harry’s face to be met with Y/N’s palm striking her square on the cheek. The sound of skin to skin reverberating in the otherwise silent room.

Dani gasped, “Mom! Dad! Harry, say something. She just slapped me,”

Harry speaks up, “I think you should leave,”

“I can’t believe you,” Dani rasped out, “You’re weak, Harry”

“At least I don’t hurt my own family,”

“That may be, but I’ll get over it,” She said while collecting her stuff. It was easier since all her luggage was left by the front door, unpacked. “Y/N here, however, probably won’t even forgive you for cheating,”

She tapped on Y/N’s cheeks, giving a mocking a smile before waving goodbye to her parents. Dani;’s figure disappears from view and they could faintly hear her put her shoes on. The door creaks open and slams in a matter of seconds.

Y/N lets out a deep exhale, eyes glancing up at her family and Harry. She pursed her lips, nodding at the events before heading upstairs once again. “Call me when dinner’s ready,”

A pregnant pause took place, both Marga and Robert heading to the kitchen to clear their thoughts and continue preparing and cooking the meal for tonight. It was only Harry and Carlos in the living room.

“Harry, who do you love?”

It caught him off-guard but one thing was for sure. He didn’t hesitate to let her name escape his lips.

“I love Y/N,”

————–

ugh,, please give me feedback (even if it’s about how bad this is)

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recentanimenews · 4 years

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Bookshelf Briefs 5/28/20

Dr. STONE, Vol. 11 | By Riichiro Inagaki and Boichi | Viz Media – Balloons! Yes, Dr. STONE is taking it upon itself to do something it does best, which is show off the gorgeous vistas of this not-really-that-explored future Japan it takes place in. And that means hot air balloons. It also means speedboats! But alas, just because Senku is a scientist does not mean he can cook. So they use some of the last remaining fluid to un-stone a butler-cum-chef-cum-everything, Francois, who is flamboyant and also a lot of fun. There’s actually some really good humor in this volume as well, be it the reporter getting her camera and its undercutting right afterwards, or Senku’s Einstein impersonation. This remains one of the essential Jump titles. – Sean Gaffney

Dungeon Builder: The Demon King’s Labyrinth Is a Modern City!, Vol. 2 | By Rui Tsukiyo and Hideaki Yoshikawa | Seven Seas – After wrapping up the cliffhanger from the first volume (he names his first monster girl, which gives her the power-up (and bust expansion) she needs to win), the cast gets down to the nitty-gritty of what he wants to do: build a city, not a dungeon, which feeds on positive emotions. Of course, there are a few problems. Location, labor costs, the neighboring demon lords, and of course Marcho’s impending death, which she seems to have accepted more than Procel has. This remains sort of mid-tier manga—not interesting enough to stand out, but the pages turn easily, and you could do worse. Also, brilliant pun for the back-cover blurb. – Sean Gaffney

Éclair Blanche: A Girls’ Love Anthology That Resonates in Your Heart | By Various Artists | Yen Press – The second of the Éclair anthologies to come out over here, this one seems to focus more attention on love that is already in bloom when the story begins than love that we see the start of. There’s a nice mix of funny, heartwarming, sad, and generally melancholic. Some highlights are “Azalea Corner,” about a minion’s crush on the arrogant ojou she follows; “The Unemployed Woman and the High School Girl,” which should be awful but is by Canno so is cute instead; and “That Summer Won’t Come Again,” about a girl trapped in her sister’s past who bonds with a senpai and learns to swim again. There’s good and not-so-good here, but overall well worth buying. – Sean Gaffney

Éclair Blanche: A Girls’ Love Anthology That Resonates in Your Heart | By Various Artists | Yen Press – This is the second Éclair anthology, but aside from two continuations, all the stories here are new. The quality varies, and it seems the better stories are in the front. The first story, Fly’s “Flowers in a Storm,” sets the tone for bittersweet, ambiguous endings with the tale of a first kiss that comes too late. There are also several stories about unrequited love for a friend who loves someone else, be it another girl, an idol, or a guy. Kabocha’s “Though Summer Won’t Come Again” is a standout, about a girl who assumes the senpai she’s developed feelings for prefers her older sister, as everyone else seems to. Unfortunately, I found the stories toward the end of the volume to be less enjoyable, particularly the final one, which includes the most awkward teacher-student embrace I have ever seen. Still, I will read the next installment when it comes out! – Michelle Smith

I Didn’t Mean to Fall in Love | By Minta Suzumaru | Futekiya (digital only) – Yoshino Kiritani is a beautiful 30-year-old salaryman who happens to be both gay and a virgin. With no relationship prospects on the horizon and wanting to finally have sex, he goes to a gay bar, meets a charismatic college student named Rou, and sleeps with him. The back-and-forth that follows between these two guys is so well done. Rou is a notorious playboy with a hot-and-cold routine he has employed many times to manipulate his conquests into falling for him and confessing their feelings. He tries this on Yoshino, even though he’s actually serious about him, but it doesn’t work. Self-effacing Yoshino genuinely thinks Rou wants nothing more to do with him, forcing Rou to face the seriously scary prospect of rejection by declaring his feelings first. There are a few explicit scenes, but they serve the characters and story well. Highly recommended! – Michelle Smith

Love Me, Love Me Not, Vol. 2 | By Io Sakisaka | Viz Media – First of all, a word of advice to the author: don’t sink people’s ships in your author’s notes, OK? Secondly, this continues to have the strengths of Io Sakisaka titles—it gets teenage love in a good way, has characters who are likeable but clearly flawed, shows gradual character growth, and has clean, easy-to-follow art. She’s still trying to balance out the idealistic girl with the realistic girl, though it may be leaning towards the former. Sadly, it also contains what’s always been one of this author’s big weaknesses to me—I like her series but never love them. Each volume is fun to read and I’d call it good, but it’s never going to be tops in my favorite shoujo manga lists. It’s not life-changing the way a Yona of the Dawn is. – Sean Gaffney

Ping Pong, Vol. 1 | By Taiyo Matsumoto | Viz Media – Ever since Matsumoto was a guest at TCAF in 2013 and spoke in depth about the series, its development, and how it fit into his overall career, I’ve been desperately wanting to read Ping Pong in English. When the excellent anime adaptation came and went soon after and the original manga still hadn’t been licensed, I didn’t expect that we’d ever see it translated. But it is actually here! The first of two beautifully designed omnibus volumes. And I am absolutely in love with Matsumoto’s Ping Pong. Ostensibly a high school sports manga, Ping Pong spends very little time explaining the ins and outs of the game even though table tennis is essentially omnipresent; instead, the series devotes its attention almost entirely to the characters themselves. With strong psychological elements, in part the work’s themes explore talent, motivation, and self-determination, all supported by Matsumoto’s distinctive and spectacularly dynamic and expressive artwork. – Ash Brown

Prince Freya, Vol. 1 | By Keiko Ishihara | VIZ Media – The land of Tyr is threatened by Sigurd, the empire to the north. Our “wimpy and weak” heroine, Freya, happens to be the spitting image of Prince Edvard, who’s just been poisoned by Sigurd, and so takes on the role of impersonating him to protect her country. Alas, Freya’s performance as Edvard (and characterization in general) is inconsistent and in a way that doesn’t seem intentional on the mangaka’s part. Sometimes she boldly and capably takes action, sometimes she just cries. In my notes I wrote, “This ain’t no Basara,” prompted by a panel in which Freya is making an extremely insipid face because of something sappy her love interest has just said, but then something super dramatic and unexpected occurs and… well, now I’m cautiously on board. It may turn out to be fluffier than I would like, but I will at least give it a couple more volumes. – Michelle Smith

The Quintessential Quintuplets, Vol. 9 | By Negi Haruba | Kodansha Comics – There’s less swapping in this one, but the one time there is a swap it blows the reader out of the water. I suspect Ichika’s popularity took a nosedive after this volume, as her ideal of “all’s fair in love and war” is taken to a somewhat cruel conclusion. She’s not even the thirstiest of the quints, as both Nino and Miku are trying to make their feelings for Futaro as clear to him as possible. Meanwhile, Yotsuba is trying the opposite tactic, saying that she’ll support whichever sister that isn’t her he picks, showing off a core of self-deprecation that we’ve seen before, but never to this level. And then there’s Itsuki, who seems to have forgotten she was supposed to be first girl. Great harem antics. – Sean Gaffney

Sacrificial Princess and the King of Beasts, Vol. 9 | By Yu Tomofuji | Yen Press – I missed reviewing the eighth volume of this, for some reason; I’m not sure why. It continues to be quietly sweet, with a heroine who perhaps leans a little too much towards “can save everyone by the sheer power of being really nice.” That said, nice can only go so far, and when she discovers a country that’s being blackmailed into slavery, nice becomes determined and fierce. There’s also some tortured romance at the start—the king’s chief bodyguard and the princess’s attendant clearly are headed towards each other, but there are a few steps back here before we can move forward once more. I admit that I’d likely enjoy this more without its central conceit of animal people, but oh well. – Sean Gaffney

Snow White with the Red Hair, Vol. 7 | By Sorata Akiduki | Viz Media – I admit I was a bit more surprised than Shirayuki was at the identity of the leader of the Lions of the Mountain. That said, it does remind us that Shirayuki is another one of those great “shoujo heroines who underreacts to everything,” which can be quite amusing when done right. That said, this volume is when the series transitioned from the quarterly DX to the main LaLa magazine, and as such much of the middle part is taken up with introducing new readers to the main cast and the situation. This includes an amusing “personality reversal” chapter where Mitsuhide starts acting like a chivalrous knight. the book ends with the implication that their love is going public. How will that go? Great shoujo. – Sean Gaffney

Wandering Witch: The Journey of Elaina, Vol. 1 | By Jougi Shiraishi, Itsuki Nanao, and Azure | Square Enix – This is a manga adaptation of the first fourth or so of the light novel, and it’s a very good adaptation. I will admit that Elaina is a lot more expressive than I was expecting… her delivery in the novels is somewhat cool… but it makes sense given the manga’s visual medium, and she’s cute. This volume shows off what we’re going to get from now on: some cute fluffy stories, some melancholic stories with deaths, some stories of Elaina having to extricate herself from a situation, and some backstory showing how she came to be wandering. The final story was one of my favorites in the book, and it’s the best one here too. A nice adaptation. – Sean Gaffney

By: Ash Brown

#Anime #News #Manga Bookshelf

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ciaragorgeous · 4 years

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My ideal Child’s Play (2019) (WARNING: LOADS OF TEXT)

I enjoyed the film unlike most people, but it could’ve been better imo

Here’s what I’d do if I directed the film.

Loads of changes, controversial or not, ahoy!

============================

* The film is at least two hours, the hour and a half runtime we got is my biggest issue. There’s also a ‘director’s cut’ that’s 30 minutes longer.

* Andy’s friends are friendlier and interact with him and Chucky more. They weren’t handled well in the actual film and the runtime wasted any potential for extra character development.

* Chucky’s design was good for the most part, but it does look pretty eh in some scenes. I’d change his design so he looks cute for the first half but as the film progresses he becomes less so and more like that one shot in the film where Andy’s screaming about Shane.

* Karen is Andy’s sister instead of his mom and they have more interactions. She feels more like a sibling to Andy than a mother and, being a reboot of Child’s Play, would work well as something different.

* Isn’t Mike supposed to be Omar’s dad? I’m pretty sure he is, and I’d have them interact more. I’d also make Mike a more serious character during the second and third acts as he begins to figure out who he thinks is doing the killings.

* Omar is presented as a nicer character who is under the bad influence of his other friends who are utter douche bags. We see character development for him as he slowly begins to side with Andy’s friends.

* More emotional scenes with Chucky during the first and second acts to show that he’s becoming more aware of his surroundings. Instead of leaving Chucky to hug the bear, Andy comforts him and warns him again not to hurt others (while making some accidental, indirect comment about bad people being an exception). Another scene shows Chucky struggling to connect with Kaplan’s products and being upset over it. Finally, there’s a scene where Omar’s douchebag friends harass Andy and kick Chucky.

* More kills, which get more sadistic and gruesome as the film progresses. Omar’s friends are killed by Chucky after Gabe (thrown out of a window, necks slit with Kaslan drones, etc), Doreen’s death is pretty much instant and inspired by the crash at the beginning of The Descent, lots more kills during the ZedMart scene, etc.

* Like Omar’s friends, kids aren’t safe from Chucky either. During the ZedMart scene we see some kids being murdered by Buddi 2 dolls.

* Andy’s friends help out during the final battle, destroying Buddi 2’s left and right. They, Andy and Mike (seemingly) destroy Chucky in a contrasting callback to Chucky being deactivated.

* Karen dies. I found it odd that she was hung for that long but somehow survived. How this would work, I’m not sure, but having Andy cry over her death with his friends by his side (another additional callback to the Chucky deactivation scene - instead of walking away they comfort Andy as they interacted with/cared for him too) in a similar vain to Bill finding Georgie’s jacket in IT.

* Chucky doesn’t swear until Omar’s douchebag friends first appear and encourage him to stab the unicorn toy. This is because Andy doesn’t swear that often until the second act when shit gets real.

* Stronger language is used, specifically “cunt”. Why? I don’t know, just to make the film ‘unique’ since the word is rarely used in movies. How Chucky starts using it? Not sure, but I’d want it to be his common swear word to show that he’s no longer the innocent, cute doll that wanted to make Andy happy.

* Chucky doesn’t go for Andy’s friends until after they deactivate him. He doesn’t really go after them in the film.

* Lots of ‘blink and you’ll miss it’ scenes of Gabe stalking or ‘hands in his pantsing’ to Karen to show how much of a unsettling, sick fuck he is. It’s also much more fucked up since Karen is younger here.

* The film has a more consistent tone, starting off slightly dark before going into a comedic and ‘family-friendly’ tone for the first half of the film. The emotional scenes gradually frequent by the end of the first act and are mixed fluently with the horror and black comedy during the second and third acts.

* LOADS of POV shots from Chucky, the film was lacking those and they could’ve been utilised well during the kill scenes and during the scene where Omar’s friends bully Andy and kick him.

* The soundtrack includes more emotional pieces and, like most elements in my ideal idea for this film, starts off bouncy and fun before gradually getting darker.

* The film’s ending is much more bittersweet thanks to Karen’s death and Chucky being alive in another body is given more foreshadowing. Other than that, it’s pretty much the same.

* Loads of little foreshadowing nods to the film’s climax (like Karen ‘hanging’ herself in the actual film) or one of Andy’s drawings (which is shown for a split second compared to the others) being a bear disembowelling a man.

* Other nitpicky details I won’t get into.

Those are the changes I’d make to Child’s Play (2019) if I were the director (or co-director).

Again, while I enjoyed the film and have it as my second favorite Child’s Play film behind the second one (Brad Dourif is a legend in that film and that climax!!! ❤️), the runtime, Andy’s friends and Chucky’s design (the latter being a minor issue) were kind of a let down.

————————————————————

One more, controversial idea.

Child’s Play (2019): DARKER CUT

========================

Obviously, a much darker, edgier (I hate saying that word) version of the film (my ideal idea for it, I mean, not the actual movie).

* It starts off like the actual film, but instead of sticking to a darkly comedic tone throughout it simply becomes more bleak and disturbing by the final act.

* Chucky speaks lesser as the film progresses.

* The kills are NC-17 level, very sadistic and gory with little to no comedy whatsoever. Lots of focus on the injuries.

* The film’s atmosphere goes from colorful and child-like to eerie and gritty.

* Despite Chucky’s increasing sadism and mute voice, he keeps his child-like design to show that despite his actions he’s still the Buddi doll that was once Andy’s friend.

* The latter half of the soundtrack takes cues from horror films such as Sinister. Specifically Sleepy Time ‘98 (Aghast - Sacrifice).

* The film’s ending is extremely dark, shuts down any potential for a sequel and cements its status as a stand-alone film.

Basically, Chucky succeeds in killing everyone but Andy. This includes his friends, his sister and Mike.

We’re treated to eerie, slow panning shots of Andy’s city, various buildings and their interiors, Andy’s apartment complex, schools, hospitals, the police station, other stores... all of which have dead bodies strewn everywhere. The obvious implication being that the Buddi 2s have escaped and killed everyone.

This is all set to Aghast’s Sacrifice, making the eerie shots all that more unsettling.

The final shot is of Andy (who went into a ‘PTSD’-like state thanks to seeing everyone including his friends dead) in the darkness of the now abandoned ZedMart with Chucky hugging him, his blue eyes being the only source of light as they illuminate Andy’s face.

As the camera slowly zooms out, Chucky’s eyes close, leaving him and Andy in complete darkness as the soundtrack fades and echoes out and the credits silently roll. The end.

————————————————————

So yeah, what do you guys think? I don’t normally post on here but I thought I’d share my ideas for this film.

#childs play #chucky #buddi doll #buddi #child’s play #childs play 2019 #child’s play 2019 #alternate version #alternate ending #idea #ideas #kaslan #andy barclay #dark child’s play #in reality id suck as a director #childs play 2019 might be the most underrated film this year #sinister 2012 #aghast #sinister’s soundtrack is creepy af

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urfavmurtad · 5 years

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Well folx it’s that time of year again: the Starving For Allah festival begins shortly. (I’m only gonna be fasting in public this year and will be stuffing my mouth the second I get into my room, for the record.) As a Special Ramadan Series, I’ve dug through my asks to find the most common question that I get, and the resounding answer is: sectarianism!!! People raised Sunni, people raised Shia, and non-Muslims whose knowledge of this part of history is “some people think the fourth guy should have been first” all wanna know Shaikha Urfavmurtad’s hot take on the mess that unfolded following the death of our beloved prophet (PUBG). And I will give the ppl what they want!

Let me give you a brief rundown of the sources for everything that follows. Written Islamic history began in the mid-8th century, over a hundred years after these events unfolded, though it built upon a systematized oral learning tradition. By that point, the first two dynasties of Islam had faded away, and the third, called the Abbasid dynasty, was freshly in control of the majority (but not all) of the territory conquered by the first generation of Muslims. The Abbasids were descended from a member of Mohammed’s extended family, and this fact was essentially their sole claim to rulership. They engaged in constant propaganda against their predecessors, called the Umayyad dynasty, who by this point had been reduced to a tiny stub of their former territory. The Umayyads were descended from the same tribe as Mohammed, but were not specifically descended from his family within that tribe.

For reasons that will eventually become obvious, this means that all accounts of the complete political clusterfuck that was the caliphate in the 50 years following Mohammed’s death have to be looked at with some degree of skepticism. There were reasons why authors writing in this period would feel compelled to characterize certain individuals as evil or at least misguided and others as pure souls, and they doubtlessly exaggerated and embellished some reports. And even the reports that truly do seem to go all the way back to the first generations of Islam can’t be fully trusted--these people were talking about their own lives, defending their own actions and criticizing those of their political enemies. Despite that, we have enough solid reports from enough people on different sides of each divide to put most of the story together. The main events of the story actually don’t differ that much between sources--the differences are mostly in the ways people are depicted during those parts.

Full disclosure: I was raised Sunni. I do not have the emotional attachment to certain historical figures that Shia people do. Even non-religious Shia people have a tendency to cry when they hear some of the stories that we’ll talk about, whereas I just think “lol that’s a biT much tbh”. However, given my current belief that all of these guys were dumb assholes, I feel that I can offer my fairly unbiased take on which dumb asshole deserved to be King of the Dumb Assholes.

After reading this, I believe you’ll come to agree with my thesis statement, namely that the true hero of Islam is the one who probably didn’t even believe in the damn religion.

And so I present my pre-Ramadan gift: part one of The Death of Crazy Mo.

THE CAST OF CHARACTERS

THE QURAYSH: The tribe in charge of Mecca and essentially the only relevant people in the story. Prior to this whole fiasco, they made a living primarily as merchants, traveling along caravan routes to other lands. They also catered to polytheistic pilgrims visiting their shrine, called the Kaaba. Most of Mohammed’s early followers (including Mohammed himself) were from clans of the Quraysh. Though most of the Quraysh originally strongly opposed Mohammed, they were worn down by years of conflict and “embraced Islam” following the conquest of Mecca. The leader of the Quraysh’s military prior to Mecca’s conquest was Abu Sufyan, a member of the Banu Umayya clan. Abu Sufyan is the father of one of Mohammed’s wives (Ramla) and several other children, including a son named Muawiya. He and his sons “converted” the day Mecca was conquered and have served Mohammed ever since. Muawiya currently works as one of Mohammed’s scribes.

MOHAMMED: Some old guy from the Banu Hashim clan of the Quraysh. Spends most of his time in a state of fever-induced delirium while ranting about religious minorities. Had several children, but all but one--his youngest daughter Fatima--have died of disease.

ABU BAKR: A wealthy, well-connected merchant of the Quraysh who converted to Islam early on and brought a bunch of people into the religion. He knew his fellow merchant Mohammed before Islam’s creation and grew to become his best friend. Mohammed bestowed the title of “as-Siddiq” or “the Truthful” upon him when Abu Bakr affirmed his belief that Mohammed took a round trip to Jerusalem on a magic horse/donkey in the middle of the night. As the years went on, he established himself as Mo’s closest confidante and has been vested with a great deal of political and military authority in the Muslim community as a result. His daughter Aisha was married off to Mohammed as a child and has been his favorite wife ever since.

UMAR: A belligerent asshole from a well-known family of the Quraysh who was also an early convert. He is another one of Mohammed’s fathers-in-law via his daughter Hafsa. Everyone knows that Umar is unpleasant, but they are forced to tolerate his existence because Mohammed and Abu Bakr are his buddies. Serves as The Big Guy and is good at yelling at people to whip them into shape.

UTHMAN: A wealthy merchant and old friend of Abu Bakr’s, who converted at the latter’s insistence. Went on to marry two of Mohammed’s daughters, Roqaya and Umm Kulthum, both deceased at this point in time. As such, he is also a member of Mohammed’s inner circle. He is from the Banu Umayya clan, meaning that Abu Sufyan & Sons are his relatives. This will cause drama later on.

ALI: Mohammed’s cousin (the son of his father’s brother) and son-in-law via Fatima, with whom he has two young daughters and two young sons, Hasan and Hussein. Mohammed was raised by his uncle, Ali’s father Abu Talib, after his own parents died. As an adult he returned the favor and helped raise Ali when Abu Talib was in a tough financial situation. Ali converted essentially right away as a teenager due to the fact that he lived with Mohammed and his family. He has been one of the Muslim army’s most notable soldiers since his early twenties and is one of the most prominent members of the community despite his relative youth. Like his father and cousin, he is a member of the Banu Hashim clan.

ABBAS: One of Mohammed’s uncles (his father’s brother), though the two are actually very close in age. Originally a successful spice merchant, he converted to Islam shortly before the conquest of Mecca and served in his nephew’s army. His son Abdullah ibn Abbas is only a teenager at the moment, but he will be relevant in the future. From the Banu Hashim.

THE ANSAR: The Muslims from Medina, mostly from the Aws and Khazraj sister tribes. After getting kicked out of Mecca (because the Ansar pledged to assist him in battle and the Quraysh learned of this stunt), Mohammed moved to Medina and brought a couple hundred of his followers from Mecca with him. Medina became the Muslim base of power, and the heads of the two tribes were made essentially subservient to him. Anyone who opposed him was gradually “dealt with”, and now the Ansar are more or less 100% Muslim. Whether their loyalty extends to Mohammed’s entire tribe is an open question.

MUSLIMS WHO ARE UNRELATED TO THE ANSAR OR QURAYSH AND NON-MUSLIMS IN GENERAL:

PROLOGUE: IN WHICH THE JEWS AND/OR COCCOBACILLI BACTERIA ARE AT IT AGAIN

Mohammed falls sick with a sudden, debilitating illness. We don’t know exactly what it was, and it’s blamed on The Devious Jews in many sources, but it was clearly one of the many infectious diseases that battered the Middle East throughout the sixth and seventh centuries. Islamic sources state that Medina in particular endured some sort of plague around that the time. He’s described as becoming shaky and fever-ridden essentially overnight, and so his companions put him on bed rest.

His condition is not improving, and it soon becomes obvious to everyone, including himself, that he is probably going to die. His followers move him into the home of his youngest and favorite wife Aisha, and he is given around-the-clock care. Mohammed’s fever worsens, though he remains lucid for most of his illness. He spends most of his time in bed, but sometimes he gets up and is sort of dragged around with the help of a couple of guys.

A few things happen around this time that will be relevant later. First of all, due to Mohammed’s illness, he can no longer perform his role as the imam (leader of prayers). So he appoints Abu Bakr to fill in for him. Abu Bakr has been Mo’s bestie and a member of his inner circle for decades, so this doesn’t surprise anyone. But appointing someone the leader of Medina’s prayers has certain implications.

The immediate issue is that Mohammed serves as the head of his state’s government, military, and legal system in addition to serving as the head of its official religion, Islam. Whoever succeeds him as the leader of this state--which is in a constant state of warfare in order to extend its borders--will likewise have to serve a triple role as a religious, military, and political authority figure. This will not be easy, as the new Islamic nation includes a number of people who are not particularly happy about living under its rule, and their numbers grow every month as the attacks continue. Ibn Ishaq’s sira states that before he fell ill, Mohammed had ordered raids both south and north, into Yemeni and Syrian territory. His nation is still almost entirely located in Arabia in this era, but it is getting quite large and complex, and there isn’t really any appropriate bureaucracy to deal with it. Whoever takes over will have to come up with that on his own, and will need everyone to go along with his decisions. Mohammed’s own claim to rulership comes “from Allah”, and it looks like Allah isn’t interested in conferring the same honor on anyone else.

That brings us to the second thing, which is something that did not happen: Mohammed never actually stated who he wanted to succeed him. In hindsight, this is a puzzling decision. By this point in the story, Mohammed knows he is seriously ill and probably going to die. He is pretty old (a grandfather in his sixties). He is very sick, but he’s still able to communicate with people in a clear manner, until, like, the very last day of his life. And he’s always been more than happy to issue orders for how his followers should eat, shit, and breathe, in addition to a litany of other religious, social, and political rules. Why he not only neglected to name a successor but even a process by which that successor could be named by others is a mystery. He just evidentially made virtually no preparations for what would happen after his death. Maybe he was in denial--he obviously wasn’t planning on dying at that point, and had unfinished business related to conquest and/or ethnic cleansing. Maybe he thought he had a little more time. Maybe he believed it was obvious that he wanted Abu Bakr to succeed him. In any case, he never named his “heir”.

There is one hadith narrated by Abdullah ibn Abbas that is sometimes believed to be related to this topic:

When [Mohammed] was on his deathbed and there were some men in the house, he said, 'Come near, I will write for you something after which you will not go astray.' Some of them said, 'Allah's Messenger is seriously ill and you have the Qur'an. Allah's Book is sufficient for us.' So the people in the house differed and started disputing. Some of them said, 'Give him writing material so that he may write for you something after which you will not go astray,' while the others said the other way round. So when their talk and differences increased, Allah's Apostle said, "[Get out]." Ibn `Abbas used to say, "No doubt, it was very unfortunate (a great disaster) that Allah's Messenger was prevented from writing for them that writing because of their differences and noise."

What was he going to write? (“Wait, I thought he was illiterate!” was he tho) Another hadith says one of his last orders related to the state was just a “remember to FUCK UP the polytheists, lads” thing, and Ibn Ishaq’s sira says that his last command was to "let not two religions be left in the Arabian peninsula". But that can’t be what we’re talking about, because everyone already knew that Operation Bring Everyone Into The Loving Embrace Of Islam was the plan. They didn’t need it written out for them. A third hadith informs us that Umar was one of the people who refused to give Mohammed something to write with, believing him to be delirious and declaring that the Quran contained all the instructions they needed anyway (lolololol). So because of goddamn Umar, we really don’t know for sure what Mohammed meant to do there.

A story involving Ibn Abbas’ father, Abbas, provides a hint as to what some people wanted him to write:

[Abbas said to Ali:] “By Allah, I think that [Mohammed] will die of this illness. I recognise death in the faces of the Banu Abdu'l-Muttalib when they are dying. Let us go to [Mo] and ask him who will have this authority. If it is for us, then we will know that, and if it is for other than us, we will know it and he can advise him to look after us." Ali replied, "By Allah, if we ask him for it and he refuses us, then the people would never give it to us afterwards. By Allah, I will not ask it from the Messenger of Allah."

Abbas and Ali here are both from Mohammed’s clan, the Banu Hashim. (Abdul-Muttalib was Mo’s grandpa.) When Abbas says that he wants to know if Mohammed’s empire “is for us”, he means for their clan. So while Mohammed is dying, it’s clear that at least some people believe that he might keep the leadership of the state/theocracy/whatever within the family. If Mo did opt for that, Ali was a reasonable choice. He was young--like 30 years younger than Abu Bakr & Pals--but he had been vested with a great deal of military authority already, he had been given the honor of carrying Mohammed’s banner in battle, and he was the closest thing Mohammed had to a son (besides Zayd the Ignominiously Un-Adopted, but he’s dead by now so whatever). Mo was very protective of his almost-son/cousin, as evidenced in this adorable hadith involving slave rape, and described him as the Aaron to his Moses. He told everyone that they must view Ali as their ally (some of Ali’s followers would later interpret this as Ali being declared Mohammed’s heir, though it was obviously not viewed as such at the time).

But again: at this point, Mohammed’s days are numbered, and he hasn’t indicated he wants Ali or anyone else to succeed him. And Abu Bakr is the one leading the prayers. It’s easy to dismiss the whole account above as some dumb Abbasid story--the Abbasids are so named because they are descended from Abbas--but it seems like it either actually happened or was strongly believed to have actually happened by the early Muslims. That’s because there is a sort of competing hadith to the one about the would-be letter declaring Ali the rightful caliph, this one narrated by Aisha and involving a would-be letter declaring Abu Bakr the rightful caliph:

A'isha reported that Allah's Messenger (ﷺ) in his (last) illness asked [her] to call [her father] and her brother too, so that he might write a document, for he feared that someone else might be desirous (of succeeding him) and that some claimant may say: “I have better claim to it”, whereas Allah and the Faithful do not substantiate the claim of anyone but that of Abu Bakr.

So the idea that Mohammed was going to write something related to the succession seems to have truly been A Thing in the first generation of Islam, with different camps offering different spins on what he wanted to write. Obviously, no letter was ever actually written, thus the problem. But there were plenty of reasons why Abu Bakr also made sense as Mohammed’s successor, apart from his high standing in the community and his appointment as the designated imam. He was fanatically loyal to Mohammed and had joined him in holy broship, so he was viewed as unlikely to “betray” Mo’s final wishes. Mohammed had entrusted him with increasing religious authority even prior to his illness, and in the year following the conquest of Mecca, Abu Bakr had been put in charge of the pilgrimage to the Kaaba. He had also led platoons of Muslim soldiers (more slave rape in that one jsyk!) and was treated as essentially a substitute teacher at times:

A woman came to the Prophet (ﷺ) who ordered her to return to him again. She said, "What if I came and did not find you?" as if she wanted to say, "If I found you dead?" [Mohammed] said, "If you should not find me, go to Abu Bakr."

Plus, the guy was old. Around Mohammed’s age, actually, in a society that prized the wisdom of elders. So Abu Bakr had quite a bit going for him at this juncture. The one thing he permanently lacked was Ali’s close blood relationship to Mohammed--and Ali held multiple advantages here. It wasn’t just that he and Mo were cousins, it was also that Ali was the husband of Mohammed’s daughter and the father of Mohammed’s only grandsons. Abu Bakr’s daughter was Mohammed’s wife, but neither she nor any of Mohammed’s other wives from his polygamous days had any surviving children. Fatima’s boys were the only males around with his blood. (Mo had granddaughters too, from both Fatima and one of his other daughters; the latter granddaughter also ended up marrying Ali.)

A final note is that not all Muslims were eager for either Abu Bakr or Ali to succeed Mohammed. Some weren’t interested in living under permanent Qurayshi rule. In particular, the Ansar of Medina wondered why exactly the Quraysh were seemingly destined to rule them just for being related to Mohammed, when the Ansar were the ones who sheltered Mohammed and his followers for years after the Quraysh kicked him out of town.

As people ponder all of this and the power struggles start to heat up, Mohammed is still in his bed, dying of disease. Oh, and just a teensy problem: some people have gotten word of his illness and think that now is a great time to try their luck and break away from the proto-caliphate. Some are in open revolt and refusing to pay tribute to the state, while others have even declared competing religious movements and have started building up their own armies. Mohammed’s successor, whoever he is, will have a lot to deal with. As all of these people will learn within the next two decades, it turns out running an enormous expansionist state is actually a shitty job with a lot of headaches, many of which involve being stabbed to death.

CHAPTER 1: PRESS ﷺ TO PAY RESPECTS

Despite his followers’ best attempts to cure him by using the “methods” he’d taught them, Crazy Mo dies in Medina around noon on a hot June day in the year 632. He was 62 years old, and had served as the self-declared prophet of Islam for the last two decades of his life.

The Muslims are, naturally, distraught by their leader’s death. Mohammed’s wives immediately begin hitting themselves (uhh... it was a custom) in mourning when his heart stops in Aisha’s room. The news slowly spreads. Some wail; others are frozen in fear. Some like Umar take a more denial-of-reality approach to hearing the rumors. He addresses a crowd of people and begins rambling:

When the apostle was dead, Umar got up and said: "Some of the disaffected will allege that the apostle is dead, but by God he is not dead; he has gone to his Lord as Moses went [for] forty days, returning to them after it was said that he had died. By God, the apostle will return as Moses returned and will cut off the hands and feet of men who allege that the apostle is dead."

“SO THIS MOUNTAIN, SEE?!”, exclaims Umar, who is in a state of mania. “THE MOUNTAIN IS JUST, LIKE, IN AISHA’S APARTMENT. ALLAH MOVED IT THERE, THEN SHRANK IT, THEN MADE IT BIG AGAIN, BUT YOU CAN’T SEE IT FROM HERE--LIKE THE MAP OF NI NO KUNI, YOU KNOW?--AND THE PROPHET CLIMBED IT TO GET SOME TABLETS LIKE MOSES. HE’LL BE BACK WITH THOSE TABLETS, WHICH WILL SAY ‘FUCK Y’ALL’, AND THEN HE’LL MURDER EVERYONE WHO SAID HE WAS DEAD. YOU’LL SEE!!!”

“That sounds incorrect, but I don’t know enough about mountains to say it is false,” decides an onlooker, thoughtfully.

Abu Bakr pushes through the crowd that has gathered to gawk at Umar. He visits Aisha’s room to observe Mohammed’s corpse and confirm his death. Satisfied with the deadness of the body, he returns to Medina’s center to put a stop to his buddy’s maniacal ranting:

Umar was still speaking and he said gently, "Umar, be quiet." But Umar refused and went on talking, and when Abu Bakr saw [this] he said: "O men, if anyone worships Mohammed, Mohammed is dead, but if anyone worships Allah, Allah is alive". Then he recited this verse: "Mohammed is nothing but an apostle. Apostles have passed away before him." By God, it was as though the people did not know that this verse had come down until Abu Bakr recited it that day.

(Hmmm at that last part.)

“Umar,” says Abu Bakr, gently.

“BRO! YOU’RE WITH ME, RIGHT? EVERYONE’S SAYING ‘THAT’S THE DUMBEST FUCKING THING I’VE EVER HEARD’, BUT THEY SAID THE SAME THING ABOUT THE FLYING DONKEY, YOU WERE THE ONLY ONE WHO BELIEVED!! NOW YOU’VE GOT MY BACK, RIGHT?”

“Of course,” Abu Bakr replies, sweetly. He then slaps Umar across the face.

Stunned, Umar shuts up for a moment and everyone accepts that Mohammed is, in fact, dead and had not somehow gone missing inside his wife’s bedroom.

Mohammed’s only surviving child, his daughter Fatima, is obviously among the most devastated by his passing. Fatima’s mother Khadija had died when she was still a young girl, her sisters all died of disease within the previous five years, and none of her brothers survived their childhoods. Even Zayd the Ignominiously Un-Adopted is gone. So she is the last of her nuclear family at the age of, like, 25 or younger. Her husband Ali is presumably equally distraught, but as one of Mohammed’s closest surviving male relatives, he has to deal with the burial arrangements. Abbas helps Ali wash Mohammed’s corpse, in keeping with Islamic custom. They respect Mohammed’s never-nude wishes and keep his privates covered during the process.

Meanwhile, the news that Mohammed is dead has spread throughout the entire city. The issues that people had previously been grumbling about, related to the succession to Mohammed, immediately start spilling out into the open. The Islamic empire is engaging in constant, ongoing battles--if a new leader is going to be chosen, it has to happen now. There isn’t any time to waste.

But not everyone is convinced that there needs to be a singular leader. Some of the Muslims believe that Mohammed was irreplaceable in terms of being one single authority figure to whom all Muslims were required to pledge their absolute loyalty. He “earned” that loyalty by being The Prophet, and he was The Last Prophet. He couldn’t have a real successor. People who followed this line of thinking began seriously considering the possibility of de-centralizing the new empire, so that different Muslim tribal confederations would be more or less self-governing, as they had been prior to Islam. After all, Arabs were accustomed to living in tribes, not bureaucratic nations. Why not just return to the way things were, with slightly more attacks on polytheistic shrines?

The Ansar are intrigued by this possible outcome. They know that if there is one single ruler, he is doubtlessly going to come from the Quraysh tribe, and they’ll be relegated to the back seat forever. In the interest of preserving their autonomy (or rather renewing it, now that Mo’s dead), they quietly arrange a meeting to discuss this problem. The goal of the gathering is to agree upon a leader for their community, with Saad, a chief from one of their tribes, being the current frontrunner. They invite the senior members of their tribes to the meeting and pointedly do not invite any of the Quraysh. But some of the latter get word of the gathering, and they move to crash the party immediately.

I (Umar) said to Abu Bakr, 'Let's go to these Ansari brothers of ours.' .... we reached them at the shed of (a clan of the Ansar, the) Bani Sa`da.

After we sat for a while, the Ansar's speaker said, ‘...To proceed, we are Allah's Ansar (helpers) and the majority of the Muslim army, while you, the emigrants, are a small group and some people among you came with the intention of preventing us from practicing this matter (of caliphate) and depriving us of it.'

When the speaker had finished, I intended to speak as I had prepared a speech which I liked ... Abu Bakr said, 'Wait a while.' I disliked to make him angry. So Abu Bakr himself gave a speech ... he said, 'O Ansar! You deserve all (the qualities that you have attributed to yourselves), but this question (of Caliphate) is only for the Quraish as they are the best of the Arabs as regards descent and home, and I am pleased to suggest that you choose either of these two men, so take the oath of allegiance to either of them as you wish.’ And then Abu Bakr held my hand and Abu Ubaida bin al-Jarrah's hand

“Hello friends,” Abu Bakr begins. “Y’all are great. Truly. Thanks for opening your homes to us, surrendering control of your city to our cult leader, and sacrificing your money and lives in battle on his behalf. But here’s the thing, folks: we’re better than you are. I’m sorry but these are the facts. We’re richer. We’re from a more well-developed city. Our tribe is more respected. Abraham himself built a mosque where we live. Mohammed was one of us. Frankly, we’re also better-looking. That’s very important for good PR.”

The Ansar stare blankly at him.

Undeterred, Abu Bakr continues: “Now, we’re not going to force you to follow anyone. There is no compulsion in religion. You have a choice here--between two of our tribe’s most famed assholes!” He grabs two individuals from the crowd and presents them. “On your left: Umar ibn al-Khattab, who many of you know as a short-tempered and over-emotional manchild. On your right: this other guy named Abu Ubaida, who honestly hasn’t done much beyond fight in some battles at this point in the story. I guess there was that time he killed his own father while we were trying to raid one of our tribe’s caravans.... anyway. What are y’alls thoughts?”

[Crickets.]

And then one of the Ansar said, 'I am the pillar on which the camel with a skin disease (eczema) rubs itself to satisfy the itching (i.e., I am a noble), and I am as a high class palm tree! O Quraish. There should be one ruler from us and one from you.'

“OK... first of all, what in the name of Christ is that metaphor,” Abu Bakr replies. “We’re also better at poetic imagery than you are. Forgot to add that, so thanks for reminding me. Second of all, as I just told you, we’re above you. Who the fuck lied to y’all and said you were on our level? Lmao losers”

“We’re not better than fucking UMAR?”, the Ansar retort. “Or this other guy who will remain B-tier in relevancy throughout this entire story?! YOU WOULDN’T EVEN HAVE THIS EMPIRE WITHOUT US, YOU UNGRATEFUL CLOWNS!”

Chaos erupts in the hall. People are five seconds away from throwing hands. Suddenly...!

Then there was a hue and cry among the gathering and their voices rose so that I was afraid there might be great disagreement, so I said, 'O Abu Bakr! Hold your hand out.' He held his hand out and I pledged allegiance to him, and then all the emigrants gave the Pledge of allegiance and so did the Ansar afterwards. And so we became victorious

Umar dramatically declares his loyalty to Abu Bakr in the chaos, recognizing him as the new leader of the Islamic empire, henceforth known as the caliph. Frankly speaking, it probably wasn’t that much of a shock to Abu Bakr himself, as he knew that Umar (and... basically everyone else) wanted him to be the first caliph. The whole offering Umar and Abu Ubaida as options thing was just false modesty he knew would be shot down in favor of himself, imo. But that’s my hot take, not something the sources say.

Anyway, everyone pauses for a moment to consider this. It probably seems clear to the Ansar at this point that the Quraysh aren’t gonna just leave them alone and let them do what they want; they will have to pledge loyalty to one of these guys eventually. Given that their previous options were Umar and Irrelevant Guy, Abu Bakr likely appears pretty good in comparison. So perhaps it’s not surprising that most of the Ansar present at this gathering decide: “if we gotta serve one of these assholes, might as well be this one”. They sigh and agree to recognize Abu Bakr as the caliph. (Poor Saad gets roughed up afterwards, something Umar considers punishment for daring to even consider himself for the position of caliph.)

So now the whole succession issue is behind us, right? Well... no. We have a slight problem here: Abu Bakr, Umar, and Abu Ubaida may have crashed the Ansar’s party, but zero members of the Banu Hashim were present at the impromptu coronation of their kinsman’s successor. Because they’re busy preparing his corpse for burial. Oh well!

Team Abu Bakr has a more pressing concern, namely telling everyone else in Medina (and those hundreds of thousands of other people living in the caliphate, but who gives a shit about them?) that they have a new ruler. So the next day, Umar and Abu Bakr direct a general assembly to gather in Medina’s mosque, where the people are told to give Abu Bakr their allegiance. First, Umar gives a brief speech in which he basically says that this decision hadn’t come from Mohammed, but is nonetheless the evident “will of Allah”:

O men, yesterday I said something based on my own opinion and which I do not find in God's book, nor was it something which the apostle entrusted to me; but I thought that the apostle would order our affairs until he was the last of us alive. ... God has placed your affairs in the hands of the best one among you ... so arise and swear fealty to him.

The residents of Medina do so, and then Abu Bakr gives his own speech in which he asks the people to “obey me as long as I obey God and His apostle”. Then he leads them in prayer, acting as the caliph for the first time. The commoners apparently don’t have much of a problem with any of this, or at least none are bold enough to disagree with the leaders of their tribes after the latter swore loyalty to Abu Bakr in the hall. So that takes care of that situation.

But the larger issue, namely the fact that the Banu Hashim and their sympathizers have had basically no say in this process, is still unresolved. Mohammed’s burial occurs the day after the general oath of fealty to Abu Bakr, with the men of his extended family lowering him into his grave. They’re now ready to catch up on everything they’ve missed in the past couple of days. It probably isn’t anything important, since the people of Medina have no doubt been so preoccupied with mourning Mohammed’s death that they’ve hardly had time to do anything else.

(On to part 2!!)

#long post #history #adventures in sectarianism #ramadan

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nomanwalksalone · 4 years

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ALTERNATIVE STYLE ICON: RICHARD CHAMBERLAIN IN WALLENBERG: A HERO’S STORY

by Réginald-Jérôme de Mans

The writer George Santayana famously wrote that those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it. Ironically many who repeat his quote forget who first uttered it.

Zagreb, one of the most beautiful cities in eastern Europe, admirably filled in for 1940s Budapest and Stockholm in the making of this production. I’m fairly certain that I’ve stayed at the Zagreb hotel on whose esplanade Chamberlain wore that suit, in an early expository scene where the American and Swedish governments encourage Wallenberg to take a position with the Swedish legation in Budapest. I’ve been told Zagreb’s one of two cities in Europe where the street lamps in certain neighborhoods are still gaslit. Gaslighting happens to have been one of the reasons that I finally wrote about this icon. Of course there’s plenty to mock in the conventions of this telefilm, even beyond Chamberlain’s indisputable 1970s and 1980s stock hero status: its heavy-handed setup and plotting, making Wallenberg out to be a one-man anti-Nazi force from his time at home in Sweden (wearing a U. Michigan sweatshirt to indicate that he had studied in the US - did college sweatshirts even exist back then?). Miniseries meant melodrama and its archetypal characters: an adorable child whom Wallenberg saves from the death camps only to die of illness; a shoehorned-in love interest in the form of a kindhearted baroness who lobbies her suspicious husband to relax the Hungarian government’s strictures on Jews; a fiery Hungarian resistance fighter who provides the unofficial, combative counterpoint to Wallenberg’s diplomatic, humanitarian efforts through official channels. And, of course, Wallenberg’s kidnapping by the Soviets at the fall of Budapest meant his story was perfectly framed for 1985, when we still couldn’t trust those Russians. (In fact, to this day no one knows what they did with him.)

Quality content, like quality clothing, ages well. This article first appeared on the No Man blog in February 2017.

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makeste · 6 years

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BnHA Chapter 054: OG!Deku Had a Fucking Taser

Previously on BnHA: Todoroki showed up to help Iida and Deku after getting Deku’s weird message in the group chat. Stain proved frustratingly tough to deal with, even after Deku’s paralysis wore off and he was able to rejoin the fight. Having previously leveled up his inner peace and clarity stats thanks to Deku, Todoroki attempted to impart this same wisdom to Iida, and it looks like it just might have worked.

Today on BnHA: Iida has more sad flashbacks of his brother, and reminds us all that he wants to be a great hero like him. Stain says Iida is selfish and that he’s going to purge society of its fakers who are warping the word “hero.” If any of this sounds familiar, it’s because we’ve been listening to this same tune for the past several chapters. Thankfully the characters seem to realize my attention span is reaching its limits, and decide to wrap this up. Todoroki cools down Iida’s legs so he can use Recipro again. Iida kicks Stain in the face at the same time Deku punches him on the other side of his face, and it’s just the therapy I needed.

(As always, all comments not marked with an ETA are my unspoiled reactions from my first readthrough of this chapter. I’ve read up through chapter 126 now (lol I’ve been stuck on the same chapter for the better part of a week), so any ETAs will reflect that.)

there is exactly one cool thing in the vol. 6 bonus features, but that one cool thing is very fucking cool.

I fucking love learning more about this type of character-building process. not sure if this is too tiny to read since I shrunk the image; here’s a link to the vol. 6 extras if anyone wants to take a closer look

it’s fascinating that Deku wasn’t originally planned to have a quirk. honestly, I think Horikoshi’s editor made the right call there. since Deku ended up having to learn how to control his new power, we still got a taste of that “having to solve problems without the use of a quirk” situation early on, but with the added bonus of getting that satisfying sense of progression as his skills with One for All gradually improve

plus, I really love the mythology of One for All so far. and All Might’s bond with Deku is one of my favorite parts of the series, so I’m really glad that was developed as well

(ETA: okay, so just let me gush for a sec. as shitty as this Donald-Trump-is-US-pres timeline is, for the past ten years there has been one thing that still gives me hope for this Berenstain universe that we all ended up in, and that’s the fact that RDJ ended up playing Iron Man in the MCU instead of Tom Cruise. that is, until now. now there are two things, and the second one is that Horikoshi Kouhei’s editor made him give Deku a fucking quirk. because after reading chapter 59, and then the Kamino arc and its aftermath, I can’t imagine this series without One for All and everything that comes along with it. everything about it is so well thought out and impeccably planned, and it just feels epic. it singlehandedly elevates the series from “this is really good, I like this” to “this is fucking great and if the series keeps this up, it can and will stand up there with the best of all time by the end of its run.”

basically what I’m saying is, One for All is good and I like it.)

but it’s still very cool to know that it wasn’t the original plan, meaning there’s some alternate universe where Deku never received a quirk and still went on to take the superhero world by storm through pure shounen guts

OG!Deku carries a fucking taser gun in his bag you guys. OG!Deku didn’t come to play

on to the new volume!

oh dang what’s this. this appears to be the first chapter I’ve read that was scanlated by fans rather than being the official Viz translation. on the one hand, yay and fuck Viz, but on the other hand I was looking forward to seeing the new volume cover lol. should I risk looking it up?

-- OH MY GOD

I’M SO GLAD I LOOKED IT UP!?!

BAKUGOU KATSUKI: ORIGIN

YEESSSSS MY ANGRY SON. NOW THAT TODOROKI AND IIDA HAVE HAD THEIR ANGSTY ARCS, IT’S ALL YOU, BOY

at least I assume. dare I hope. looll

(ETA: holy shit this series played its cards close to the chest when it came to that Kacchan angst. they did not give two fucks about how badly I wanted it! but eventually they did deliver. boy did they ever fucking deliver)

all right, I’m not going to look up any more details about that for now. we’re going into this totally spoiler-free, folks. please look forward to it. yoroshiku onegaishimasu

all right. on to the actual chapter. so the first page is just a rehash of stuff we already saw, i.e. Iida thinking about his brother and how he aspires to be like him, and then Todoroki yelling at him to do exactly that, basically. “set your eyes on the man you want to be”

now Iida is crying again and thinking, “some hero I am,” and he’s realizing how much of a shithead he was being this whole time. okay, good. I don’t hold any of it against you, Iida. you were in a rough place

looks like we’re getting more big bro flashbacks now

oh my god these brothers could not be more different in personality

just like that Tensei has endeared himself to me for life

so he says that it was partly because it runs in the family, and their parents and grandparents were all heroes, so it was natural for him to follow that path as well. but he also just wants to be that guy who helps people out, even with the little things, because he says “that kind of guy is the coolest there is.” which is such a great fucking thing to say, honestly. you never know how the smallest action can have the greatest impact. and even if it doesn’t, those little actions still add up and make the world a better place

basically this dude is the shit and I’m mad Iida already called him as his role model. damn you Iida

and now he’s ruffling small Tenya’s hair and saying that if small Tenya admires him, then he just might be a great hero after all

just look at this fucking smiling guy who loves his little brother so much and just wants to do what he can to make the world better you guys

the world does not deserve him and fuck you Stain for what you fucking did to him

now we’re back in the present and Iida appears to be entering Full Shame mode, and is thinking he’s not worthy compared to Deku and Shouto who have been acting so nobly this whole time

“but nonetheless...!” yeeess Iida, now that you have Seen The Light it’s time for you to snap out of it and join our badass U.A. All-Star Superhero Group boiiii

what the fuck is Todoroki even doing

IS THAT EVEN ALLOWED. WHAT IS THIS KID

OH MY GOD, FUCK

WHERE THE FUCK IS DEKU?? WHAT HAPPENED TO THE PLAN OF KEEPING HIS ATTENTION ON YOU?!!

(ETA: so I’ll explain right now that I didn’t realize Deku had been re-paralyzed toward the end of the previous chapter. so there’ll be several more comments to the effect of WHERE’S DEKU!? until I finally fucking realize this. please accept my sincerest apologies)

FINALLY IIDA IS GETTING UP, THE PARALYSIS HAS WORN OFF

USE THE THING IIDA OMG

YESSSSSSS

[PUMPS FIST IN AIR!!]

JESUS CHRIST. JESUS FUCKING CHRIST. TODOROKI COULD HAVE FUCKING DIED JUST LIKE THAT HOLY SHIT

IIDA BROKE STAIN’S KATANA! GOD BLESS YOU, NEW AND IMPROVED IIDA 2.0 WITH THE POWER OF SELF-REFLECTION

NOW HE’S MOVING TO KICK STAIN RIGHT IN THE FUCKING HEAD

WHERE THE HELL IS DEKU DURING ALL THIS, DID HE FUCKING DIE OR WHAT

WHAT ARE YOU DOING DEKU. ARE YOU JUST WATCHING?!

Iida is apologizing again for getting the other two involved in something they have nothing to do with. but this time it seems like it’s coming from a more resolved and stable place!

I can’t believe Stain is still out here lecturing about the evils of society instead of fucking booking it now that all three of them are out here gunning for him

he’s literally calling Iida “the cancer of society”

(ETA: Stain’s Annoying Rant Counter: 6)

now Todoroki’s calling him out for being a nutjob and he’s telling Iida to ignore him

Todoroki has been so fucking concerned with Iida’s mental well-being this whole damn time and I love it. what a good boy

but Iida’s agreeing with Stain and says he’s not qualified to bear the title of “hero”

BUT he’s not going to give up either!

Iida is going back and forth so damn much here I can’t fucking keep up. like, I’m glad he’s begun the process of becoming self-actualized now, and it’s great to see Todoroki trying to help others sort through their shit now that he’s more or less dealt with his own. but I also feel like we’ve been covering the same talking points over and over again throughout this entire fight which has now lasted like four chapters. and if I’m being totally honest, it’s starting to get just the slightest bit annoying and repetitive

like, we fucking get it. Stain thinks 99% of heroes are selfish hypocrites. Tenya really looks up to his brother and is justifiably angry about what happened. and at the same time he’s trying to live up to his brother’s name and ideals. and this whole thing is a really personal matter to him. like, we got that three and a half chapters ago. I kinda just want to finish this up already

meanwhile during all of this talking, Todoroki is blasting Stain again because obviously we’re not about to let up now, lol

the other still-paralyzed pro is shouting at Deku and Shouto to run since Stain isn’t after them. I can’t decide if I’m pleased that he’s concerned for their safety over his own, or annoyed at him for assuming that they would or could actually do that

and Todoroki says that Stain’s not giving them any openings to run away

and he’s also noticed that Stain has finally gone on the defensive now. all it took was him being outnumbered 3 to 1, and having his sword broken! wow

tbh I’m amazed he did as well as he did, all things considered. like, he definitely seems to have superhuman speed and agility, and that seems to have been the deciding factor thus far, way more than his actual quirk

(ETA: but unfortunately this is the start of a very annoying pattern of everyone lowkey worshiping the ground Stain walks on. omg Stain-sempai you’re so cool and powerful and charismatic and amazing. we’ll see this reach peak ridiculousness in another two chapters when Stain is simply so cool and riveting and captivating that every single other character winds up frozen in place just listening to him in awe.)

Todoroki is wondering why Stain hasn’t fled yet, given that he’s at an obvious disadvantage now

and he concludes that he is crazy and determined. again, what a great insight that’s already been beaten into our heads like a half dozen times by now

tbh I do like the idea of Stain as a villain, but as of now there’s just not enough to his character for him to hold my interest for such a sustained period of time. we get it, he’s wrong but he thinks he’s right! he’s a fanatic! fucking roger that!!

Iida’s looking at his boots and says his recipro is fried. which is to be expected since that always happens when he uses it, no? idk why he seems surprised

ooh but he seems to have an idea now? he’s asking Todoroki if he can regulate his leg’s temperature

Todo says he’s not used to his left side yet

but Iida doesn’t need the left side! he’s asking Todo to cool down his leg, but just enough so that his exhaust pipes don’t get blocked off

JESUS

okay I’m getting sick of this guy’s attempts to straight up murder Todoroki. I THOUGHT HE WASN’T AFTER HIM?? anyways thank you, Iida

and now Stain’s throwing another fucking knife, holy shit. is he ever gonna run out??

Iida’s shouting at Todoroki to “just do it quick”

just do it Todoroki

is Deku paralyzed again and that’s why he hasn’t done anything this whole time? I guess he must be

okay yeah I just went and looked back at the previous chapter and that’s why. Deku was apologizing to Todoroki and said he got taken out again. I got distracted by Todoroki shouting at Iida like a main character lol

anyway so now he’s recovered a second time. he still seems a little shaky, but with Iida out of commission again and Shouto also injured and not able to defend himself and Iida both, he pretty much has to make a move now

okay looks like Shouto was successfully able to cool down Iida’s engines, but Stain is already in mid-leap heading right for them

IS IIDA FUCKING PULLING THIS SWORD OUT OF HIS OWN ARM WITH HIS OWN FUCKING TEETH

WTF, THIS IS THE MANLIEST FUCKING THING ANYONE’S EVER DONE??

“I’ll give up this arm” WHAT THE FUCK WHAT DOES THAT MEAN

he’s using Recipro again

and now he’s charging toward Stain

and so is Deku!!

omgggggg

YOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

HOLY SHIT THE FUCKING DOUBLE TEAM YESSSSS

THAT’S THE END OF THE CHAPTER, BUT HOLY SHIT. IF THAT DOESN’T FINALLY KNOCK HIM OUT I’LL BE SO FUCKING PISSED OFF LOL

BONUS:

(I didn’t look up any of the bonus volume pages until after I’d read chapter 62, just FYI. so all of this is ETA stuff from my post-chapter 62 self.)

first, the volume title page is Jirou and Momo being lesbians!

at least, that’s 100% the vibe I’m getting here and no one can convince me otherwise

and now, the actual bonus page:

oh my god his vest automatically applies heating or cooling as needed based on his body heat. why the hell didn’t he have this costume to begin with. he had a weird costume at the start of the series that he wore like once and then never used again. oh well I shouldn’t be complaining about a vast improvement

it’s also nice to see he got himself a costume that wouldn’t immediately catch fire when he does his thing!

utility belt! he should add some wire rope to that thing so he doesn’t have to use easily-breakable dumpster twine the next time he has to apprehend a villain unexpectedly

and his boots have cleats! smart! but that probably makes things more difficult on those occasions when he wants to use his ice for sliding on though

ALL IN ALL, THEY’RE COOL ON HIM DON’T YOU THINK??????! lol

#bnha #boku no hero academia #makeste reads bnha #todoroki shouto #iida tenya #midoriya izuku #stain (bnha)#in hindsight this is definitely where the arc finally started to wear on me #you can see where I was beginning to be done with stain's bullshit #I apologize for the next couple of recaps in advance #anyways let's not dwell on that #so do you guys think canon!Deku also carried a taser in his bag prior to getting his quirk #because I think we can all agree that would have been amazing

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