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cy-cyborg · 7 months

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Writing disability: The Super-Crip Trope, and how to avoid falling into it's harmful elements

The "Magical disabled person" or as it's often called in disability circles, the "Super-Crip" is the name of a trope in which a disabled character has some kind of magic or special abilities, which is used to mitigate or erase the impact of their disability. While not a mandatory part of the trope, many super-crip characters are also stronger than their peers, specifically because of their disability's impact on their powers. So why is this trope so unpopular among many disabled people? There's a few reasons. The main one is because more often than not, Super-crips who are written by non-disabled people are often treated as an easy way out of actually having to deal with a character's disability, and a shortcut out of having to do the research into how a disabled character would deal with certain situations. When these writers encounter something they think their disabled character can't do, instead of actually talking to people with the same disability as their character and doing research, they just write that its not a problem because "magic powers go!"

In some cases, but not all, their powers all but erase their disability completely, at least from the perspective of it's relevance to the story. While, to my knowledge, this was never in the comics or movies, A good example of this is a "fan-theory" I've seen among non-disabled X-men fans who claim professor X could use his telepathy to walk, functionally bypassing his spinal injury (Or his leg injury, if we're going off some of the comics' timelines). This would functionally erase his disability, making it an example of both the super-crip trope and the miracle-cure trope.

ID: An image of Professor X from X-men, a white bald man wearing a suit, sitting in a silver wheelchair, and another unknown man in a suit standing beside him, framed by a circular doorway, both their faces are partially obscured by shadow. /end ID]

Another reason this trope is disliked is because writer's often have good intentions when using this trope, but they actually end up undermining the points they were trying to make. Often, super-crips are portrayed as badasses in an attempt to show that "you can still be a hero/useful to the plot and be disabled", but the way they portray it usually implies that disabled people, as they exist in real life, aren't useful unless they have something that compensates for their disability or have impossible powers.

So should super-crips be avoided entirely? Some folks in the community think so, but personally, I don't agree. Despite all of what I've said so far, I think there are ways to write characters who technically fit the definition of a super-crip, without it being harmful. There's an argument to be made that "super-crip" specifically refers to harmful version of the trope, so not everyone will consider characters who aren't part of it, but I do, and I think it's important to discuss both the harm this trope can bring, and how this trope can be used in non-harmful ways. Humans (and creatures with human-level intelligence) are adaptable creatures, and in a world where magic exists and especially in worlds where its common, disabled people will find ways to use it to help themselves. but help is the key word there. So let's talk about some ways you can write super-crips, without it crossing the line into becoming harmful. The following are some things for you to consider about your character's disability, how their magic/powers interacts with it, how they interact with the world (and vice versa) and more:

Are your character's powers an aid or a cure?

The first, and one of the most important things to consider, is if your character's powers function like an aid or piece of assistive tech, or a cure? If you boil it down, is the magic helping them or "fixing" them? This can be a cure in the literal sense, as in giving an amputee the ability to shape-shift to get their limb back, or a functional cure, meaning the power essentially by-passes the disability, like the above mentioned professor-X fan-theory. It's not literally curing him, but it might as well be. In a world where this magic or super-powers exist, it's perfectly natural that a character might use the magic to lessen the impact of their disability, but it shouldn't erase it entirely. Give the magic a trade off, make it imperfect. You character can cummon a magic prosthetic, but there's a time limit on how long it lasts for, or their magic needs to recharge it. A wheelchair using mage might be able to engrave magic runes on their chair that allow them to pass over rough terrain, but only to a certain extent. It might allow them to go up-stairs, but it can only be used so many times per day (and make sure you show the times where they need to get up the stairs, but have run out of uses!) Things like that.

Is the power directly tied to their disability?

Is the power you're giving the character directly tied to their disability? There's 2 ways you could read this, and both should be considered. 1. The power is something you, as the author, gave to them specifically because it would help mitigate their disability (e.g. giving a character without arms telepathy so they can still pick things up/hold things because you couldn't figure out how they would be a badass swordsman without it) or 2. Does this character, in universe, have their power specifically because of their disability? e.g. Did our arm amputee develop telepathy through sheer-force of will because they really wanted to be a swordsman, and their determination manifested as telepathy/A god gave them the powers because they felt bad for them/a wizard taught them how to do it because they were inspired by the person's perseverance? If the answer to the first one was yes, perhaps reconsider and do more research. If the answer to the second one is yes, proceed with a lot of caution. Generally, if the powers originate from someone feeling sorry for your character, being inspired by them or anything to do with their determination and perseverance, I'd recommend changing that. However, if the powers came from your character having to adapt something to to their disability, that is really a case-by-case basis thing. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't. your success with it will depend on the character, the setting and the specifics of how.

Is this power common, or is this character the only person in the cast/only person we see with this ability?

Is the power you're giving your disabled character rare, or even unique? It's fine to give your disabled characters powers that are common within the world, but if they're one of the only people who has that ability (or similar abilities), ESPECIALLY if it directly helps mitigate their disability, you might want to reconsider that choice. In a world where everyone can fly, it would be weird if your wheelchair user couldn't without an explanation. But if no one else in the story can fly except your wheelchair user, it starts looking more like you just gave them that power so you don't have to think about accessibility in your world. If you really must give your disabled character the rare/unique power, consider making another character with a similar disability but no/more common powers so you aren't just avoiding the issue, or making the power not related to/impact their disability directly (e.g. giving your leg amputee super-hearing.)

Does this power solve a wider access issue in your world, or does it just make it easier for your character alone?

As a general rule of thumb, if you are writing a story where you don't want accessibility issues to be a thing (e.g. a story set in a utopia), focus on fixing the environment, not the characters. Instead of giving your wheelchair user the ability to fly upstairs, give the buildings ramps and lifts. That way, its a solution for everyone with that disability, no matter their access to things like magic or technology. When talking about super-crips, this is especially important, doubly so if your character's power is rare! I made a (mostly joking) post ages ago about an idea for an earth-bender character in the Avatar universe, who gets fed up with republic city being inaccessible and starts earth-bending all the stairs into ramps. This solves the accessibility issue for them, but also makes their environment more accessible for others without bending to get around. Of course, not every disabled character will want to help/care to help others, but often when non-disabled people write disabled characters with powers, they kind of forget that their character won't be the only disabled person in this world. It often feels like they honestly think fixing things for their character means there's no problem anymore, and that's not the case.

Avoid, "I may have [insert disability here] but I can still do stuff because of my power!"

By this, I mean give your character other ways to address issues relating to their disability than just their powers. One funny example I remember reading in a writing group I was a part of was this author who was bragging about how their paralysed character could still drive a car because they had electrokinisis (the ability to telepathically control electronics). Aside from the fact that wouldn't work on all cars - including the one their character drove, since not all cars have electronic components controlling their acceleration and brakes, the way they described it was extremely complex, and overall not worth the effort when the real-life solution, hand controls, was much, much easier and the setting allowed for easy access to that kind of tech. When I pointed this out to them, they said they had no idea hand controls were a thing, and they had no idea that real disabled people could drive. They thankfully changed it, but there's 2 things to take from this: 1, double check that disabled people can do the things you assume they can't, your magic solution might very well not be needed, and 2. variety is important regardless. No one device, or in this case, magic power, should act as a one-size-fits-all solution. IRL disabled people have lots of tools to help us, I have 2 sets of prosthetics for different tasks, a wheelchair, a grabby claw (for reaching things on high shelves when using my short legs and wheelchair) and hand controls in my car (or at least I used to but we won't get into that lol). My prosthetics won't "fix" all my problems, I need other tools too. keep this in mind when it comes to magic too - it shouldn't be the only thing at your character's disposal.

There's nothing to compensate for.

Remember, don't treat your character's disability as something they need to make up for (especially if they "make up for it" using their powers). Your disabled character is allowed to make mistakes, they're allowed to have flaws both related and unrelated to their disability, they're allowed to not be good at some things, and they don't always have to be the best at whatever their roll in the plot is. In most stories, they should be on par with the other characters, or at least in the same ball-park, but as I mentioned before, a lot of stories don't let disabled characters fail. In order to justify them even being present, they are often made out to be the undeniable best, almost to mary-sue levels of perfection and super-crips especially fall into this issue a lot. They can be good at things, but balance it out, like with any other character.

You don't have to use all of these points, but they are still worth at least considering. For example, Toph fails all of these points except the first three. Despite that, she's still one of my favorite disabled characters in media, even if she's not perfect, and I'm not alone in thinking that. I've seen lots of other disabled people say the same about her. Which of these points you should use will depend on your story, character, setting and tone. As I've mentioned a few times now, the key is striking a balance. At the end of the day though, these are only general pieces of advice and a lot more factors go into making a character like this work. only disabled people will be able to tell you if you've pulled it off, and that's where beta-readers and disabled sensitivity readers come in!

Also, remember, these kinds of tropes don't just apply to the more common/well-known disabilities like amputations and wheelchair users, that's just what I have experience with! Be sure to research any disabilities your character has to ensure you are not falling into these tropes.

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smooth-perceval · 5 months

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A holiday promise.

Lando Norris x Fem!Reader

Summary: it was Christmas time- unfortunately for the reader she wasn’t feeling the spirit when her boyfriend was being distant, little did she know he had a promise for her.

Warnings: Fluff, swearing? Some self doubt. Implied smut at the end but no smut included!

Key: Y/N (Your name) Y/L/N (Your Last name)

Word count: 1094

A/N: The longest I have written (for 12 day count down) andddd we’re posting 40 mins earlier so technically I posted a day early but we won’t discuss that 🥲

Lando had been different lately, I don’t know what I done- but it’s like he didn’t want to be around me… or he had a secret he was keeping from me.

And like any girl I doubted myself- and maybe him a little… there was days that he was my lando and there was days where I didn’t even know he existed.

—

The days were rounding closer, and closer to Christmas Day, and I clasped onto the fine strings of my heart that this guy would stay around at least for Christmas…

I mean we share the same apartment but yet felt like two strangers… and I miss him- today I declared I was sitting my lando down and getting our shit together- today was the make or break.

Taking a deep breath I braced myself for the conversation ahead of me. Stepping into our apartment I kicked my shoes off and tugged my coat along with it. “Lan you home?”

Silence… until I heard a little thud from down the hall. Signalling he was but just ignoring me.

“Lan… if you scare me… I swear to the heavens I will leave your ass quicker than a McLaren pit stop!” Shoulders tensed I round the corner, pausing in my step.

“Lan?” Eyes trailing over the fake snow along our hallway floor. “Did you decorate without me?!” A gasp falling off my lips, I practically stomped down the hallway.

“You promised you wouldn’t!!”

“I hate talking to myself right now.”

“Lando Norris we need to-”

There he stood infront of the tall glass balcony doors, candles surrounding the entire lounge, the fake snow scattered around on the floor… clearly he ran out of snow half way through but it still looked magical, a mixture of the moon and the candles bouncing off his face. He looked pretty.

“Need to what?” A teasing smile was on his face, and I finally took in his appearance.

A plain black top and some joggers, pure white socks (with a lot of fake snow stuck to him but we won’t talk about that) and a small velvet box in hand.

“Needed to talk… what is going on- is this what I think this is?” My eyes welled with tears as I stood in the doorway slightly.

4 meters away from him and out of touch.

“What do you think this is?” My hand clasped over my mouth as I violently shook my head. “Words, use your words bubs.”

Silent tears fell on my cheeks as my hands slid down soothing my churning stomach. “You want to get married?” Whispering over to him, I embraced my arms around myself trying to stop the excitement and butterflies.

“Once I ask you then yes.” Laughing a little he nudged his head signalling for me to come over.

But I couldn’t move I was stuck in place. The only thing I could do was ball like a baby, Lando rushed over having a little giggle to himself wiping away my tears with his thumbs as best as possible, “hey, hey… it’s okay-” tilting my head back slightly, his eyes board into mine before dropping to one knee.

“Oh my-” sniffling I looked up at the ceiling before finding the courage to looked down at him, body still shaking like a leaf.

“You always said you didn’t want some huge proposal… said you preferred it being more intimate, nothing out the crazy- just two people declaring their love for one and another.” Nodding my head to everything he was saying I felt myself laugh a little. “You’re not the guy to do some huge proposal anyways.”

“Do you want me to ask you orrr?” A teasing smile crept back to his face, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Please ask me.”

After a brief pause, us both stopping the little giggles, he then took another deep breath before continuing. “Well here I am, down on one knee declaring to love and care for you for as long as you want me, hopefully till death do us part.” Laughing again a little he then shuffled slightly on his knee.

A choked laugh left my lips- but I couldn’t control myself from being a blubbering mess, sinking down to my knees infront of him, gripping his kneeled knee for security and support. “Y/N Y/L/N will you marry me?” And I froze once again.

Just staring at the man I love… this was all the reasons why for the last few months- it was all leading to this… I thought he’d leave me before Christmas… but yet here he was asking to love me.

“You really want to marry me?” Smiling at him, I squeezed his knee holding back another weep.

“It would be my honour.”

“Then yes Lando Norris, I will marry you.”

His eyes widen slightly, it took him a moment to realise what answer I had given. Before he sprung into action. I say sprung, we both watched his shaky hands take the beautiful ring out, before taking my hand in his and placing it on my finger. And only then did it feel real- it was a weird sensation, once that ring was on my finger it was like a wave of relief, love, security- everything washed over me.

In a split second his lips were on mine, eager yet tender- urgent yet full of love… business men share handshakes to secure a deal- lovers share sweet kisses to secure theirs, it was a sealed deal between me and Lando- for better for worse, till death do us part.

“I thought you were going to leave me…” mumbling against his lips, a little smile playing on mine.

“How could I ever.”

“I’ve been asking myself that continuously the past month, I didn’t believe you would.” Whispering feverishly lips now barely brushing as we pulled away. Leaning back we both basked in each others presence.

“Oh my camera!” Jumping up he quickly ran across the room, kicking snow everywhere.

“You recorded this?” A wide smile was on my face as I started to get up off the floor.

“Max didn’t believe I’d do it. I now have proof.”

Rolling my eyes I moved over to him as he toyed with the camera in hand. “Remind me why I said yes.”

“I can show you instead…” wiggling his brows at me I shook my head giggling.

“Please leave the camera in this room-” laughing also he set the camera down wrapping me up in his arms before whisking me away- sealing our holiday promise another way.

#f1 imagine #formula one imagine #imagine #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando x reader #lando norris

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brisquad-unit-4402 · 2 months

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Hello can I request Luxiem reacting to you taking off their engagement ring (assuming them and reader are engaged)? The situation can differ per member. Also if you’re not comfortable doing all members then at least Vox, Shu and Ike will be okay. Thank you!

oooo i saw “the situation can differ” and i took the fattest sip out of my coffee. i love drama. if you’re looking for something specifically fluff or angst with your oshi i hope the rng works in your favor

tags: gender neutral reader, established relationship, engagement and marriage, fluff, angst, breakups, arranged marriage, misunderstandings, unrequited love alternate universe, reader gets sold to one direction, i popped off a little too hard on some of these so sorry if you can detect a bias 😔

⚠️ forced marriage, implied dubcon (non-explicit), yandere(?) in vox’s entry

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

🖋 Ike Eveland

Ike spent all the time in the world examining every last ring at the jeweler's with the eye of a detective, whittling down each choice until he found the perfect ring to propose to you with.

Now he looks back at the white gold and how it reflects his face as he holds it up close, glasses up on his forehead while his nearsighted eyes take it in. The diamond in the center divides his reflection up in facets that gleam even as his shadow covers the overhead light, while the two sapphires on either side make the blue in his eyes all the more prominent.

He thought he had it all planned out, and he wasn't so presumptuous that he knew everything would go like how his wildest dreams unfolded, but he thought he had done at least something right. The moment he got on one knee was the number-one proof there was magic in the world.

So why, then, isn't the engagement ring in its rightful place on your hand?

He turns it over, inspecting the band as if there would be a clue engraved on the metal. Nothing, and it makes the growing panic in his head all the louder. You've already left the home much earlier that day, and he hasn't gotten a single text from you since. That's not surprising—he's clingy but not so much that he needs updates from you 24/7—but it's gnawing at him. You were so happy when he proposed that you cried with him, and your eyes rarely left the band around your finger. You swore you'd never leave it behind with wet eyes and the biggest smile in the world.

The memory just makes Ike all the more confused. He found it in the bathroom, on the sink counter like just any old piece of jewelry, even though you always keep it on your nightstand in the same place every day. It's a ritual to slip it on every morning and take it off every night, and there's been more than a few times Ike placed it on your finger before anyone's left the bed, as if the magic of the proposal still lingers with every day he's your fiancé.

At least, he thought it did. Something about plans and not being presumptuous, and doing something right. Or God forbid, doing something wrong.

He clutches the ring closer in his hand as he kneels on the bathroom tile, the cool metal turning warm with how long he's been holding it, while he puts the last few days on replay. Did he ruin something without noticing? He dreads the thought, and when he can't think of any recent transgressions, he tries to recall every day since the proposal.

Anxiety dyes the memories over. He always treasured every moment, even the imperfect ones where he's made a fool of himself (because what else is he supposed to do when he's in love like nothing else), but now he's starting to realize that he could've done better. He should've done better.

He's so lost in his thoughts and the labyrinth of deceit they invite that he doesn't recognize the world around him, even as the home comes to life while he sits still. He ignores the latching of keys and doors opening and closing. The only thing that snaps him out if it is footfalls along the flooring, slowly growing in volume as they approach the bathroom, until they're interrupted by the door creaking open and—

"Holy—Ike! You scared me!" Your hands are raised, startled, but lower to your side. "I just got home, and I was wondering where you went and... Why are you on the floor?"

Count another moment of foolishness. Ike returns to the waking world, where he sits on his legs over the tile of the master bathroom of the house, hands cupped around the engagement ring and the one he cares for above all else behind him, and yet still he can barely muster the strength to raise his head, much less speak out loud.

"Reader," he says. "I, uh, I have a question."

The words end there, and too ashamed to look up, he brings his hands out instead. Diamond and sapphires shine through his palms.

He hears a sharp intake of air. A gasp. Of shock, certainly, but whatever fuels it is lost to him.

"No way, you found it! Thank you, thank you, thank you!" You plop down on the floor right next to your fiancé, leaning along his shoulder in disbelief. "It wasn't in any of my pockets, and I was just about to turn the house upside-down. Where was it?"

"I'm not sure how to approach this," Ike mumbles, before fixing his glasses and raising his quiet voice a bit louder. "It was in the bathroom."

"Ohh, that explains it. I probably took it off to wash my hands, then."

Ike falters. "Wh-what?"

"I usually take it off before getting my hands wet," you explain, as if it's the most mundane thing in the world. It is. "I know gold is waterproof, but I don't want it to lose its shine or anything."

"Right. The shine."

Ike Eveland, certified idiot, at your service.

The ring sits pretty in one hand while the other runs through his hair. Another foolish moment, but with your head up on his shoulder, his anxieties calm.

Fingertips rest along his palm, and when he looks at its source, you return the gaze. Your eyes sparkle nearly as bright as the gemstones, but your lids are lowered, trying to discern something. "Ike, you look like you have something on your mind."

"I do, don't I." At that, he muffles a laugh, fingers still tangled in his ashy hair. "No, I'm just glad that the ring reunited with its owner."

"Thanks again." You nod, the elated smile on your face fading into a dopey one. "Can you...?"

The exchange is wordless, and in his palm, warm. Ike takes the ring and turns it upright, while the hand it rested on takes yours instead.

Every morning when the both of you are too sleepy to even speak, he manages to treat your hands like fine crystal glass, and still he does now, with your palm resting under his grasp and fingers dangling out. The metal's temperature doesn't shock you at all. It's an extension of you, even when it was under Ike's watch.

Ike affixes the band with care, lashes and disheveled hair covering his eyes as he focuses, but you can discern the small, struck curve in his lips as he twists the band into place, certain it won't budge for the rest of the day.

You start to raise your hand, but before you do he gently tugs it back down, still focused on the way the engagement ring gleams. Then up at your knuckles, and higher on your arm until you can see a hint of green through the lashes. That green blinks back under his eyelashes as he lifts your knuckles to his lips.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

🦁 Luca Kaneshiro

It's late. You haven't checked the time in hours, but it's dark, and the false daylight from the old floor lamp in your living room cuts through the night in the window.

You should be asleep by now. You haven't gotten a good rest in what feels like forever. You've always been too worried, and when worry eased it turned into hollowness, even when the other side of the bed sinks with added weight.

You sit along the couch in the corner you always occupy on late nights when Luca is out. Whenever he comes back, he always wraps his arms around you and kisses the top of your head. A metallic scent follows him.

The door opens. Warm arms envelop you. Squeeze. Lips against your hair.

You don't have it in you to smile.

He can tell. His grin falls as he peels back his gloves. They're tinted darker on the knuckles. "Reader. You've been so distant lately."

"I will be. It'll be better for me to stop seeing you. It's not safe." The dredges of all your past arguments curl into your throat.

It breaks your heart to see Luca so stunned. Months upon months cleaning and dressing his wounds, and you've never seen him so taken aback.

That's one of the reasons you can't go on like you used to.

"I've spent so much of my time telling you to watch yourself, and so much time just asking you to come home," you explain. "You know as well as I do you can take a break. But you don't.

"And I can't control you, but do you know how many times I've had to stay up just to know you'll be safe? To know I'll be safe?" Your fingers tense. "The gunfire outside, the spyware, I stopped ordering packages because ever since that threat last year I've been paranoid one of your enemies might actually leave a bomb at my doorstep. I don't know how you can do it, but I can't.

"And I've spent so much time alone."

Your eyes fall to the engagement ring on your hand. It's glamorous and gold, with tiny diamonds that line the band and frame the large diamond in the center like pawns to a king. Is that what you are to him?

You raise the back of your palm up, and the lamp makes the diamonds shimmer. "What does this even mean? You tell me you love me but you never give me your time anymore. You can't just do that, Luca. Not when I stay up night after night worrying what if you got shot, or stabbed, or kidnapped, and every night you don't come home or even send me a text I can't help myself from thinking that."

"I wouldn't." Luca's big purple eyes make contact with yours. The way his voice wavers and his face is set into a grimace, you know he's serious, and those purple eyes are honest. "I wouldn't get hurt and leave you by yourself like that."

"But you did! There are days in a row where I don't see a trace of you and consider calling in a missing persons case! Weeks, even, and so many times I have to patch you up after a fight!"

"I can take care of myself."

"And I want to take care of you! We're engaged, that means we're in it together, but I can't do this! I'm not some superhero mafioso like you. I'm just-"

Your throat tightens. You were doing such a good job at keeping yourself together, but the diamonds are your chain.

You rip the ring off yourself, and Luca watches in horror.

"I'm just normal."

The ring lands on the table, next to the water stains from the previous tenant. Your fiancé is motionless.

"I'll help you collect your things tomorrow when it's a decent hour," you snap, patience lost. "But you're not staying here. God knows you've found places to spend the night without me."

"We're not over," he says, utterly in disbelief.

"Yes, we are! You can't get it through your head that you're dangerous, and you can't even make up for it by being there when it matters. I'm not safe. How could I ever feel safe when the man that proposed to me is never around to actually protect me? You said you would when you got down on one knee, and ever since it's only been more danger! That's the opposite of what you promised me!"

You snatch the ring with one hand and his own in the other. He winces, and you can see a newly formed bruise where his own band glints up at you. Another late fight tonight, when he could've rested.

You push the engagement ring into his palm and force the fingers closed around it. He doesn't even protest. "Go home. Let me be alone like I know you're so good at doing."

"I'll be back for you. I'll make it right. I swear."

"You had your chance and you blew it. You're lucky I'm not changing the lock before you get your things." You leer, scorned and scarred. "We're done."

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

👟 Shu Yamino

Your hand shakes, and the engagement ring between your fingers glints in the lighting. The gold is stark against your skin even in the glow, with a pear-shaped stone in the center of the ring that catches the glow in little reflections off the surface of the fabric of your attire and your skin. They start purple, then gleam in subtle rainbows of fire.

It’s an elegant piece with slanted filigree wrapped all around like Shu's flames around your finger. The stone smiles, and when the light bounces off the facets, it giggles speckles of glitter against you.

Shu is so beautiful in white. His eyes are a brilliant royal purple just like the stone, especially as he blinks back tears, and even though his hair is braided back, a strand of hair strays by his right side. He spent the last twenty minutes blowing it out of his face nervously.

Your fingers graze over the gold. The fiery stone lets out a laugh as it slides off your finger.

Shu's hand meets yours. "Let me help you," he whispers, so quiet that no one could ever hear it but you. He shakes too, but he is together with you, and as you present him your right hand, the engagement ring finds its place on your right hand.

He produces another, one that the both of you picked out together. It, too, is gold, but simply bent upward in a point like a chevron. Two stones, one diamond and one deep purple, are placed on the side. One to represent each of you, set together in metal.

"I've been dreaming about this for so long," he admits. His voice is wet. You know your eyes are too, and even though you gingerly wipe them, you focus on how much care he puts into placing the band around your left ring finger, both hands trembling at the excitement.

It takes you time to find your words. Even as you bring out his ring, you're still speechless, and the weight of the gold is both air and boulder. "I love you," you say, because that's all you can think. His band matches the angle shape of yours, but the metal is thicker to fit his hands, and flat enough to reflect your ring alongside his. As you place it on his finger, you brush against his knuckles.

"Reader. Do you take Shu as your lawfully wedded husband, to live in matrimony, to have and to hold, in both sickness and in health, dedicated to him for as long as you live?"

"I love you, I do, I do, I do."

"Shu. Do you take Reader as your lawfully wedded spouse, to live in matrimony, to have and to hold, in both sickness and in health, dedicated to them for as long as you live?"

"I do. God, I love you." You don't retract your hand, and he wraps around yours. The gold weaves between your fingers. "I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you."

"You have pledged before these witnesses to be joined in marriage, and you have now sealed this pledge by exchanging these wedding rings. By the power vested in me, I pronounce you officially married!"

You barely hear the officiator before Shu leans in. You meet him where your wedding ring presses against his skin and the engagement ring spreads royal freckles across his face.

You're set alight, gold on gold, lip against lip. You take his first kiss of many as a newly married man.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

👹 Vox Akuma

The Lord Akuma may be self-assured, but he knows when his intuition is trying to signal something, and so he approaches you with what you can already tell is hesitation. "My love."

"Lord."

"It has come to my attention—"

"There's a first for everything," you mock.

You know your attitude more than justifies the trepidation. Good. You'll admit that talking back to a noble is a death sentence, and anyone that dared to disrespect Lord Akuma’s name would be strung up for their rudeness.

However, you are not simply ‘anyone.’ You are the royal heir to a kingdom of your own, and your death would bring upon a far worse fate to the Lord than any public execution.

Lord Akuma’s harsh red makeup squints together as he leers—then sighs and tries again, shoulders still square as if that would intimidate you. “It has come to my attention that you reject our engagement.”

Years of etiquette has taught you otherwise, but now, you understand the commonfolk’s urge to spit on the shoes of another. “Of course I reject it. I would never marry someone like you.”

“As you’ve made it abundantly clear. You have my apologies if your time in my castle has been lackluster. Please, if the accommodations have been subpar, or the staff neglectful, just say the word. It will be handled accordingly.”

“I don’t give a damn about your castle. I’m not marrying you!” You snap. “You’re a disgusting pig of a warlord. My kingdom will never accept this.”

“Is that truly what you think?”

You nod, hair in your face and teeth gnashed together. “They’ll come for me. They’ll stand up against the empire we’ve been at war with for the abduction of their royal heir.”

“I’m afraid that’s not how it works, my love.”

“And quit calling me that!”

“Look at me.”

In an instant Lord Akuma lifts your chin with a finger, forcing you to face him even as you try to turn away. “But that is who you are.” Vox’s eyes, a pallid yellow most days, turn darker than sunsets. “Despite your kingdom’s political climate, you are no ruler. A heir, yes, but no ruler. Making your own choice in marriage was never an option.”

He produces the ring, a gold band in a traditional style practiced in his empire alone. You’re no jeweler, but it’s clear it’s a heirloom passed down from blood to blood until it fell into Lord Akuma’s hands. You don’t need a artisan’s knowledge to know those rubies feel much heavier than they look, either.

“I was heartbroken to see you left this behind in your room,” Lord Akuma said, coolly and evenly, and certainly not heartbroken at all. Ice slides down your spine as you realize that hesitance wasn’t out of fear at all. No, you’ve underestimated him entirely. “Especially after the true rulers of your kingdom, your parents, accepted the terms and gave me their blessing.

“If you see me as simply a political figure, then I’m sure you can recognize you aren’t half of the politician you claim to be.” His grin grows wider. “Perhaps a bargaining chip is a better title.”

Your vision flares red, then white as you thrash. “You—“

“Hold still.”

Lord Akuma’s grip is startlingly strong. His nails dig into the sides of your cheeks as he shoves you against the wall.

As much as you try to slip away, the Lord Akuma is the general of his army as well as a noble, and has dealt with much more cunning minds than yours. He pins you down, hot weight pressing your arm away while he catches your left hand.

“It would be wise not to resist me,” he commands.

Still you writhe, even though Lord Akuma shifts his weight to disable you further. Your knuckles are turning white under his grip.

Your strength is on the verge of giving out, now that the adrenaline is wearing off, and Lord Akuma is no longer shocked. You grunt and force every last bit of energy into your fist, but his fingers weave around yours, pulling your fist apart until he wrests the ruby ring onto your finger.

“You bastard,” you hiss. You must be a wreck right now, in improper dress and sweltering under Lord Akuma, and with every last courtesy abandoned in your hatred. The exhaustion from the fight fuels both anger and humiliation, especially now that Lord Akuma is so close. “You’re sick, Lord Akuma.”

He looks down at you, and has the gall to look disappointed. “My love, your fiancé’s name is Vox.”

You growl. “I hate you, more than anything.”

Vox is barely an inch away, and grins as he closes the distance. His teeth point daggers. “Then kiss me like you hate me.”

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

✧. ┊ ⁭masterpost ✧. ┊ ⁭kofi

#luxiem x reader #ike eveland x reader #luca kaneshiro x reader #shu yamino x reader #vox akuma x reader #ike eveland #luca kaneshiro #shu yamino #vox akuma #nijisanji x reader #nijisanji en #luxiem #ike eveland fluff #luca kaneshiro angst #shu yamino fluff #vox akuma angst #4402 writes #listening to the gardens from little big planet while writing shv's entry #i'm also the loudest crier at his and reader's wedding these two things are correlated

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loverhymeswith · 8 months

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Let's Be Alone Together || Part One

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x F!Reader

Summary: Ever since Tommy swore an oath to your dying husband, you've been a part of the Shelby family. Two years have passed and the two of you are still weighed down by grief but perhaps you can find solace in one another's company.

Word Count: 1.2K

Warnings: ptsd, mention of death, implied drug use, language, not beta-read

A/N: My first Tommy fic after embarking on a rewatch of Peaky Blinders. If there's interest in this, I have more chapters in mind!

Part Two

“Where the fuck is Tommy?”

Arthur Shelby’s commanding voice cuts through the buzz of chatter. Gradually, the small crowd gathered in The Garrison’s snug falls silent. Not as quickly as they would have done for Arthur’s younger brother, but he has their attention at least.

Glaring at the occupants of the private side room, the eldest Shelby brother takes another breath. “I said, where the fuck is-”

“We heard you the first time, Arthur,” Pol pauses her chain-smoking to interject. Even with the cigarette now resting between her painted fingers, her burgundy lips are pursed, displeasure evident in the fine lines of her face. “Shouting louder isn’t going to make him magically appear. Let’s just get on with it.”

Sitting quietly in the background - quite literally, you are tucked away in the corner of the room - it strikes you that they should have noticed earlier. The presence - or lack thereof - of the head of the Shelby family rarely goes unobserved. After all, Tommy is usually the one to call for council. For him to be missing, something must be wrong.

All eyes are fixed on the centre of the room as a discussion breaks out between Arthur and John on the merits of waiting for Tommy, so it’s easy for you to slip away. You’ve often wondered why you’re invited to these family meetings in the first place. A sense of duty to your late husband, perhaps? Ensuring you don’t feel left out? Or maybe it’s just their way of keeping an eye on you.

Two years have passed since Tommy swore an oath to your dying husband as they fought side by side in the Somme, and still the Shelbys treat you as one of their own. Pol, the family’s matriarch with a temper to match the size of her heart; sweet Ada who treats you like the older sister she never had; Arthur and John - a pair of brothers watching out for you as you navigate your way through widowhood.

And then there’s Tommy.

Tommy, who delivered the news of your husband’s death in person and held you while you broke down. Tommy, who put a roof over your head and food on your table when you could no longer afford the cost of rent. Tommy, who gave you a job and a purpose and a family.

You owe a lot to the Shelbys, but none more so than Tommy.

It’s likely your imagination, but sometimes it feels as if he acts differently around you. Like he’s more open with you than he is with the others. Maybe it’s the loss the two of you share. The grief that, given half a chance, might have swallowed you whole had Tommy not saved you.

But who is there to save him?

The streets are quiet at such a late hour, the rain having long since driven everyone inside so there’s no one around to witness your hurried approach to Tommy’s front door. You rap firmly, but you’re not surprised by the lack of response. Instead, you slip the spare key from your coat pocket. The one given to you for emergencies. The door opens with a soft creak.

Climbing the stairs, your heart races. The sweet scent of smoke fills your lungs and you hesitate at the bedroom door, suddenly fearful of what you might find on the other side. Tommy's habit isn’t quite the secret he’d like to think it is, but he’s usually so careful not to let it affect his business.

Upon entering the room, your eyes immediately fall to the bed. Tommy is stretched out across the mattress, but this is no peaceful slumber. Impossibly long, dark lashes kiss his pale skin as sweat beads across his creased brow. The muscle in his jaw works as his scarred fingers clutch at the rumpled white sheets.

“Tommy,” you murmur softly, once, twice, three times until his eyelids twitch.

A familiar yet unnerving pair of bright blue eyes fly open and his hard gaze instantly meets your own, his chapped lips parting as he rasps your name. “What are you doing here?”

Fighting off the instinct that makes you want to reach for him, you hold your position a few steps away. “You’re late for Arthur’s family meeting. They’re all waiting for you.”

In a flash, he’s sitting up, curses roughly spilling from his mouth. The movement startles you, not least because he’s dressed in only his undershirt and slacks, the sweat-dampened fabric clinging to his skin. He seems vulnerable like this - without the armour of his sharp suits, so perfectly tailored to the hard lines of his body.

Of course, you’ve noticed him. Despite your history, you’re far from immune to his striking appearance. Thomas Shelby has both the look and will of a Greek God. Beautiful and damned.

When Tommy’s attention lands on the pipe discarded on the bedside table, the briefest flicker of shame mars his fine features but it’s gone just as quickly. With a soft groan he begins to straighten himself.

“Do you need anything?” You ask, averting your gaze. Without waiting for an answer, you add, “I won’t tell anyone.”

You raise your head in time to see his lips twitch but there’s no smile for you. Not today. “What would I do without you?”

Your cheeks grow warm and you turn away to fetch a damp washcloth from the adjoining bathroom. The weight of Tommy’s gaze follows you across the room. “I should be the one thanking you,” you call over the sound of the running water.

Tommy waits until you’re by his side again before replying. “I promised him I would take care of you, didn’t I?”

“I think you’ve already gone above and beyond.”

A beat of silence passes between you, not awkward but not quite comfortable either. The scent of the smoke is slowly dispersing but a heaviness lingers in the air. Searching for something to say to offset the tension growing in your chest, you perch on the edge of the bed and angle your body towards him.

“They haunt me, too,” you murmur, offering him the washcloth. “The nightmares.” You might not have witnessed it first hand like Tommy, but at your steadfast request he had painted an unflinching picture of your husband’s final moments. Enough to ensure you plenty of sleepless nights.

Tommy’s piercing eyes search your face and you’d kill for an insight into what he’s thinking. To know what’s going on behind that unwavering stare. Despite your outstretched hand, he’s making no move to take the cloth from your hands.

Tentatively inching closer, you reach out and press the cloth to Tommy’s brow. His eyes shutter, feather-like lashes brushing his delicate cheekbones. Only when you’re certain he’s not going to push you away do you continue, smoothing the cloth along his temple and down to his jaw, carefully erasing the evidence of his troubles.

When his skin is clean you move to pull away, but Tommy places his warm hand over yours, keeping your hand and the cloth pressed against his skin.

“Does it help?” you wonder, almost breathlessly as you nod to the discarded pipe. Time might be ticking as the family waits but you find yourself in no hurry to return to The Garrison.

“I used to think so,” he tells you, firmly holding your gaze. “But now, I’m not so sure. Now…” He trails off. Turning his head ever so slightly, Tommy tilts his jaw until his lips brush against the tips of your fingers.

“And now?” you prompt hoarsely, as his warm breath fans your skin.

“Now, I think it might be better to feel something rather than nothing at all.”

Taglist: @a-reader-and-a-writer @crysxtal

#tommy shelby #cillian murphy #peaky blinders #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby fanfic #peaky blinders fanfic

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moongothic · 3 months

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You know I wasn't going to post about this, but the more I think about it the more it drives me up the walls

So when Luffy and co release Crocodile from jail, it's specifically under the threat that if Crocodile tries anything funny, well, Iva-chan has a trick up their sleeve to put Crocodile back in-line.

So what the fuck was that actually about? What is Crocodile's secret weakness? I'm specifically looking at the way this is phrased in the manga, because the anime's added dialogue kinda messes with what's implied here. But what Iva specifically says is that Ivankov in particular holds the key to one of Crocodile's weaknesses, but they'll stay quiet about it as long as Crocodile behaves himself ("Vataashi wa koitsu no yowami wo hitotsu nigitteru", a very clunky but literal translation could be "One of his weaknesses is within my grasp". The way Viz translated the line is a bit different so I'm not bothering with getting a cap of the panel, you wouldn't be able to tell how these lines were phrased in Japanese based on Viz's translations anyways) (The dialogue Toei added was Crocodile furiously shouting at Iva-chan, telling them to not say anything and Iva-chan reminding Croc to watch his tone or else they'll reveal Croc's past to everyone. A lot of people don't remember this was in-fact added by Toei, hence I wanted to clarify/remind what happened in this scene originally)

And now. Obviously. When Oda went out of his way to introduce a brand new character whose entire personality is being queer and their power is giving people magic HRT. And then like five chapters later re-introduces Crocodile. And tells us that these two have Secret Beef. And never proceeds to fucking tell us what the hell that was about. Yes, the natural conclusion one would come to would be that Crocodile is stealth trans. That is basic, good storytelling. You (re)introduce two characters, tell us they have beef, one has a very specific ability; you're supposed to connect these dots in your mind. So that now, if Oda revealed to us tomorrow that Crocodile was canonically trans, it would not surprise anyone because it's already been set-up in the story, by this very scene. It's a logical conclusion.

But. I'm becoming more and more convinced that Iva-chan's blackmail might actually not be about Crocodile being trans.

Like the general fandom assumption for the past 15 years has been that Crocodile's stealth trans, but we actually don't know he's stealth. He could be openly trans, and between that being a borderline requirement for Crocodad to be real (since he would've been a Shichibukai for years before Luffy was even born) and the possibility that his earring could specifically be a gay earring, like. Yeah. Crocodile could be openly trans. If Crocodile's perfectly happy to let the whole world know he's gay, then him being trans shouldn't have to be a secret either. We the readers could just be unaware of it because it wasn't relevant information to us, and his transition would be old ass news in-universe and not worth bringing up.

And thus, if Crocodile isn't stealth, then Iva-chan can't blackmail him by threatening to out him, becaus he can't be outted.

Now for a while I did considder that Iva-chan could've been actually threatening to detransition Crocodile if he tried anything funny. Surely he would hate that, so much so that he might not have wanted to even hear Ivankov suggest it. But thinking about it. Unless Iva-chan can use Armanent Haki or get Crocodile moisturized, they shouldn't be able to hit Crocodile actually. Like Croc's Logia makes him impossible to hit unless he specifically allowed himself to be touched. So even if Iva-chan tried to surprise attack Crocodile with Estrogen, Croc should just turn to sand automatically, the attack should not land.

Meaning Iva-chan shouldn't be able to detransition Crocodile against his will, at least not without Haki and we don't know if they can use it, so that can't be Crocodile's weakness either.

And so we have to ask the question. What the fuck is that weakness then that Ivankov mentioned?

All we really know is that Crocodile doesn't want this weakness to be brought up, it's a secret. And for all we know Iva-chan might be the only person in the world who knows about it.

And I just. Like.

There is one weakness, kind of a universal one that many people could have, one that has been brought up time-and-time again post-timeskip, one that has become more and more relevant in the story, especially now at the begining of the Final Saga.

A secret weakness.

If pregnancy is what cracked Crocodile's egg and he transitioned immidiately/soon after giving birth, then it's entirely plausible Iva-chan could know Crocodile had a secret child. And surely he'd want nothing more than for his child to be safe, not end up in trouble because of him. And Ivankov most certainly could put that child in danger, especially now that Crocodile was officially no longer on the World Government's side, there'd be no protection for the baby. All Ivankov had to do was leak the information out, that Sir Crocodile had a child, and anybody who had beef with him could get their revenge by attempting to find the child.

Like I'm just saying. This could line up nicely, actually

#Moon posting #OP Meta #Sir Crocodile #Crocodad #Keyword COULD #I know one might WANT to argue that surely Ivankov wouldn't put someone's child in danger #But Iva-chan can be mean or cruel if they feel like it. Remember they had no intention to help Luffy nor Bon-chan Luffy not begged....#...for them to save Bon-chan while HE was on death's bed. And they did forcibly transition that prince (to be fair he did attack first etc)#Point is; If Crocodad Real then Iva-chan would know that Crocodile's Secret Child would be 17 by now #And even if they did leak the info about the child's existence as long as they don't know the child's name it might not do that much damage #Like it could send people on a wild goose chase to find the child but without any leads how could anybody find the kid #And again. The kid would be 17. Surely that's old enough for them to defend themselves if they did get discovered #And hey what's the alternative here. Ivankov outting a fellow queer. That's not exactly great either.#The blackmail's gonna be kinda fucked up regardless but also Crocodile did attempt to nuke 1 million people so who cares about his feelings

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thatoneguydownthestreet · 1 year

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Fem aligned DNI

(Some) House wardens x male reader but reader is from the apocalypse, part 1.

You explain some things about the gas mask to riddle and the mask hints at your old life to leona

I swear I had an actual prompt for this but it got away from me.

Scenario: You always wear a gas mask. Gas masks were invented during WW1. Twisted wonderland never had WW1. Twisted wonderland doesn't know what a gas mask is. See the bottom for a better explanation.

Riddle, and Leona

Riddle

Doesn't understand why you won't take it off

Seriously, you never take it off

He doesn't know what you look like

No one does

So one day he's just had enough

"Y/N, what in the great sevens are you doing! Wearing any type of mask during the unbirthday party is strictly forbidden!"

And then he gets pissed when you leave instead of doing the simple task of taking it off

Storms towards you the next day and asks what's so important about the mask that you had to LEAVE THE CELEBRATION

You didn't even eat anything!

Don't you know how skinny you are? You look like your about one skipped meal away from death...

So now your confused and a little ashamed

But mostly confused

You just spent your entire life watching the people you love get lead poisoning from simply breathing too much on the surface

You've watched hunters come back without their masks on and die a few days later

And then one night you go to sleep and when you wake up, the air is somehow clean

The toxic, smoky, smoggy air that you know, is now clean? Just like that?

Yeah no

So you, growing more annoyed by the second, respond with a very fair answer

"Whatever spell you guys have cast to make the air breathable for yourselves is great 'n all, but I don't have magic. I'm not just going to die from carbon monoxide poisoning to obey the rules of a queen I've never even heard of"

And that, my friends, makes him stumble

Excuse me? What the fuck?

You then go on complain about the bad air of your world, thinking it still applies

And as you explain a few, a very few, of the horrors you've seen, riddle misses a few, key details

You said the surface

And what the surface means and implies

Anyways, bad air is an understatement

"Y/N.....there is no spell"

"Huh?"

"The air. We're not using a spell to breathe it in......It's clean"

"..."

.....what

____________________

Leona Kingscholar

Under normal circumstances, he'd be giving less of a shit what you did with yourself

Unfortunately for everyone involved, these were not normal circumstances

The smell

The smell bothered him so fucking much

It stunk of chemicals he didn't recognize

It smelled like blood and smog and sweat and the nauseating, sour smell of someone who was starving

It smelled like death

You smelled like death

At least your clothes did

you never let any skin show so he doesn't know what you yourself smell like

It didn't really matter either way when he wanted to gag every time you walked into the room

He did gag every time you walked into the room, actually

you would come in, and he'd go to the next room over and gag

He will never admit. But after the orientation ceremony, he went to his room and threw up

He just wanted to avoid you at all cost and get out of this place

...he wanted to go home

Unfortunately, life hated him. And gave him no suck luxury

Because you were his alchemy partner

Welllll shit

He hated this

First the alchemy chemicals that he already didn't like, and now the you chemicals that he hated

And he couldn't just cut class, he was already here, and ruggie would be on his tail about it

He'll skip tomorrow

Choosing to breathe through his mouth for now, he looked at your face in annoyance and disgust

Well, he looked at your mask

What the hell was it anyway

He doubted it was a weird fashion thing, if it was, you'd take it off the moment you found out it wasn't here

So now he was just confused. What the hell was it for?

There were a few doodles on it that he didn't really care for

But what caught his attention was the number

The number that was crudely etched in just beneath the left eye lens

49972

......

Well what the hell does that mean

Leona was already tired, combine that with him trying not to get sick all over the experiment, and you get a lion that gives no fucks

"Oi. Herbivore. What the hell does the number mean"

You were in the middle of trying to measure...some weird powder that you needed for the experiment, and thought he was talking about that

"The numbers are for the measurements"

"What?"

You raised an eyebrow. Not that he could see it

Leona was quickly getting annoyed with your existence

"49972"

But he wasn't prepared for what happened

Instantly you straightened up, put down the beaker and the powder, and turned to face him

"49972 responding. How many casualties?"

...... what the fuck

And then you quickly realized that you were in a class room

And you were in a different world

....

Well shit

What the fuck did you mean "how many casualties"?

And was 49972 your name?

...

Come to think of it. Yeah. It probably was

You didn't go by anything, people just pointed to you and said "that one"

This is.....

"....Ignore that"

Leona gave a single, short laugh

"Ignore that? What the hell do you mean Ignore that? And what hell? How many casualties were you expecting?!"

He knew he was losing his cool

But honestly? He didn't care right now

You sounded like that one war general he was forced to meet when he was a kid

"I expect no casualties as this is not a battlefield, rescue mission, or hunting job"

.....

NOW WHAT THE FUCK DOES THAT MEAN-

Um? Sir? What?

"....Is 49972 like a code name or something"

And without hesitation

"Yes"

"....."

Leona still cut class the next day

But as he lied underneath a tree, he thought about that number.

And as he fall asleep, he thought about what you said

And what it implied

____________________

Ok imma just cut this right here. I'm tired. I'll do the rest of the dorm leaders at a later date.

OK SO.

Let me explain a little.

Twisted wonderland and earth still somewhat share a history, as clothing, some inventions, some holidays, and most basic biology is the same

But I think we can all agree that most, if not all wars, we're fought with magic

Not chemicals like we first see in WW1

So without chemical warfare, you have no gas mask. So I think it's OK to assume these guys don't know what it is.

Also this is what the mask looks like:

Also, I made leona kind of homesick. This because when you make PE leona the homescreen guy and give him a few taps, he mentions that he wants to go ba k to sunset savanna.

Honestly, I might be reading too much into it, but if I had to go to another country for years at a time with only a few breaks in between, I'd start to miss america. Even though living here can be stressful with all the crazy "politics".

So yeah. I thinks he lowkey gets homesick sometimes. No really missing royal life, but just his country in general. Ya get what I'm saying?

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland x male reader #twst x male reader #twst x reader #leona kingscholar x male reader #leona kingscholar #riddle rosehearts #riddle roseheart x reader #Riddle Roseheart x male reader #leona kingscholar x reader #leona kingscholar x yuu #riddle Roseheart x yuu

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prince-kallisto · 7 months

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NRC Gates and Epel’s Unique Magic

Rewatching the prologue (as one does), I realize I never truly understood the ramifications of this line.

The gates, Aka the coffins, can appear anywhere at anytime, even under the sea, even across countries. And if Yuu has anything to say about it, it can even cross WORLDS. The gates that only Crowley can open, where each person is kept unconscious inside. The carriage holds the gates inside, although I’m uncertain if the coffin appears first in front of the student, and then the carriage comes to pick up the gates, or if the student is just magically forced in the coffin that’s inside the carriage.

The EN translation of this confused me haha, but I misunderstood this as “the carriage has ANOTHER gate to teleport to the school.” But after reading fan translations, I believe it’s just referring to the gates the carriage carries. I don’t know though, even other translations feel oddly vague. However, I do wonder how the transportation system works. Are there hundreds of black carriages collecting the gates? Or is there only one, assisted with magic teleporting all the gates to the school? Hm…

Anyway, Crowley later claims that the student selection process hasn’t failed in 100 years. Since he mentions several things at NRC dating back to 100 years, it’s presumed he’s been Headmage for at least a century. But isn’t this strange that the Gates and the black Carriage were created during Crowley’s tenure? Just how powerful is his magic to create such a complex system of magical gates and carriages that can cross over to other worlds? Is this his magic, or specifically his UNIQUE Magic?

I doubted the idea of it being his UM for a second. Although the gates can only be opened by him, thus making the idea of the gates being his creation even more likely, it sounds a little too similar to Epel’s Unique Magic (Sleep Kiss/ Crimson Fruit) right? Epel can create a glass coffin/barrier that puts the target inside unconscious. “Close Your Eyes, Still your Breath. Sleep Kiss.”

But after thinking it over, it actually makes a lot of sense. I’m working on a theory post compiling all the strange connections between Pomefiore/Snow White and Crowley, but this takes the cake. Crowley’s gate system is LITERALLY inspired by the coffins from Snow White, thus making the gates and Epel’s coffins extremely similar *on purpose*

Remember the opening animation? In the end, where several suspicious frames flash really quickly, one of the frames is of a bitten apple. Likely the *poison apple* based on Snow White’s. Epel even picks up an apple in the opening, but Crowley ALSO grows apple trees as a canonical form of respect to the Fairest Queen. HELPPP????

And thinking about it even MORE, isn’t it unsettling that only Crowley can open these coffins? Coffins, likely based off Snow White, where the victim can only be awoken by loves first kiss/true love (funny how it’s referred to as “the Sleeping DEATH” considering all the death imagery at NRC). Crowley has the key, not only literally but figuratively. He DOES refer the students as “eggs” or “chicks,” implying he is raising them somehow. What disturbs me even more is how this can also be a connection to Maleficent, and how Aurora could only be awoken my loves first kiss.

Anyway I’m suddenly terrified for Epel now BECAUSE WHAT DOES THIS MEAN-

#twst theory #twst #twisted wonderland #twst epel #twst epel felmier #twst pomefiore #epel felmier #twst dire Crowley #twst Crowley #dire Crowley #KallistoPost

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wolfsbanesparks · 11 months

Note

*walks back in here*

Alright but I raise you Billy not realizing he has a connection to magic in small form but instead that he has a connection to the Rock of Eternity itself regardless of form.

And then this kid proceeds to do not-quite teleportation by opening the nearest doorway to Eternity, fully closing the door behind him, and then walking right back out to somewhere completely different. Portals with literal extra steps and absolutely no effort on his part after he the first four times.

Only concern he has is something following him in or—even worse—out of Eternity before he notices. This is room for plot though so I’m still good on this one.

(It’s late but it occurs to me we sort of saw this in the first movie?? But not to the extent I’m talking about, probably. The goal wasn’t crossing distance quickly it was just leaving I think.)

Anyway yeah Batman in the early days realizing Captain Marvel has literally never used his zeta tube locations. Like ever. And yet he’s still always right on time or a little early.

I absolutely love this idea! It makes so much sense that Billy is connected to the Rock of Eternity and that he doesn't quite understand the implications of that (like say being able to do magic).

Billy just ducking into the Rock of Eternity by opening a random storage closet door, then popping out somewhere in another country because that's where he heard he was needed. He's always on time because he just needs a door and he'll be there (and then he's got super speed on top of that).

Batman high key thinks he's capable of some kind of teleportation (and he's not even wrong exactly) but he can't prove it one way or the other because no one ever sees him do anything. Except perhaps once or twice someone thought they saw a cave on the other side of a perfectly normal door that they'd used a million times. But of course nothing was there when they went to check it out.

Also yeah the movies did touch on this, though it was implied that they could only do it in their powered up forms. But it would be so cool if they (or at least Billy) could open those portals on their own in kid form.

I think there could be a really cool story about something/someone following Billy through the door when he's in too much of a rush to close it all the way. The drama would be so good.

Thanks for the ask!

#ask me whatever you want y'all #shazam #billy batson #dc captain marvel #rock of eternity #i would love to see more exploration of the room of doors in future comics and fanfics #theres literally infinite possibilities of whats on the other side of those doors

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iodrawsandtalks · 3 months

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Criticism of Penacony and why i think HYV shouldve quit while they were ahead.

//vent towards the end, references to suicide while those references are quest spoilers Recently I've been doing world quests and grinding out the new region and been repeatedly finding myself walking straight into microagressions and slights to the point where it's been jarring enough for me to put my game down. As a black dude playing HYV games i know well enough not to act like the stupid billion dollar game company cares about appealing to minorities but its 2024 man.

First off, the obvious issue. Penacony has been repeatedly mentioned by the devs themselves to be based off of the Jazz Age from the U.S. a few decades ago.

youtube

The Jazz age was a period of time in American History between the 1920's and 1930s where the popularity of Jazz just boomed from being like an indie type of music to one of worldwide popularity. Obviously, Black people in that era are wholly responsible for Jazz itself.

So yeah, Penacony takes its origins from a key black history movement. Penacony, the region that released at the start of February. Black History Month. Star Rail is arguably one of the most popular games right now in terms of outreach because it's free, its new, and its colorful/futurisric etc.... And yet....

Just like with the rest of the HYV games that take real world inspirations, they fucked over black people and their stories.

In Honkai Impact 3rd, basically we had this one black girl who's like sandpaper brown and complains about how much her DARK SKIN ruins her look and how she bleaches her skin using various products to keep it lighter. She is ashamed of her DARK SKINNED mother who's a military woman. Her father is absent. Her mother is also a grown adult who is a B-rank soldier(main character white teenagers are S-rank for reference). Carole Peppers is her name if you want to go further down that rabbit hole.

In Genshin Impact, besides the fact that people with different skin tones are CLEARLY sectioned into certain regions(no seriously there's no real reason why i shouldnt see a black person in any of the existing regions.), and besides the unnecessary amount of whitewashing and besides the perpetuation of the idea of melanin NOT being natural, every single brown/black character in the game has awful playstyles and/or poor matching with weapons/artifacts, inaccessibilty, and they NEVER make it to the top of any meta tierlists. I'm not outright saying they're bad they're just harder and almost never get specialized weapons.

The only previously relevant example in Star Rail was Arlan, a lightning/destruction character. He chews through his own HP and unlike characters like blade/clara, does not have resistance or healing to handle that. Serval, the other lightning 4 star, out-dps's him veryyyyyyy easily. So yeah, the ashy black person character basically dies if you use him for too long and is never relevant TO ANY quests except where he needs to be the sidekick.

sometimes these games have dragons, animals that can understand and process english, or magic.... but then not black people...

Penacony has no black main characters. No black stories of relevance. Yesterday found an NPC whose name was detracted from chocolate and the player had the option to let commit suicide.

yeah ill get to that 💀. This large mass of at least 4 supernatural looking characters and yet no black person. NOT EVEN ANY OF THE CHARACTERS FROM penacony itself are black.

so yesterday I was grinding clockwork quests and had to help out some apathetic shopkeeper named Cocona. Her story was almost a bit sad but midway into going through her background i realized her name is one letter off of cocoa. now imagine being on a creative team coming up with a name for a melanated NPC and somebody decides on fucking CHOCOLATE with an extra letter. before anybody implies that one was something i shoehorned, think about how itd go if i had a bunch of POC characters and one white girl named crackerella.

Cocona and her once again sad backstory reach a hard tipping point as the player follows her to the edge of a building and can either grab her to stop her from jumping or simply let her end her life jumping off the building.

Yes we've seen how this game lets you make choices and watch the consequences of your actions, but there have been established rule-breaking predecents. Take Ruan Mei's quest where you have no choice but to eat the cake she offers you and once again lose the ability to make a choice on saying anything related to her. or any time the trailblazer gets pushed into a fight and cannot de-escalate. ....with this in mind consider why was saving the cocoa girl from killing herself NOT a forced option.

normally id be the kind of silly person looking for lore bits and stuff and making theories, (like how clockie is from the path of elation :v)but as a black dude this whole region is disgusting. THEY ARE GENTRIFIYING JAZZ AND COVERING UP ITS BLACK ORIGINS idk who said HYV cared about their audiences they fucking dont.

wouldve posted this on reddit but whoop dee do i am NOT getting doxxed today.

#honkai star rail #iotalks #penacony #discussion #hoyoverse #mihoyo #gaming while black #the jazz age #hsr discussion #hsr #sometime id like to play a fantasy game as a black person and not feel like a clown #tw sucidal ideation #jazz music #i hope they lose money im so serious like i hope kotaku or some gaming forum writes an article abt this shit #genshin mention #hi3 mention #anti blackness #id be mad but there's more important things to be mad about on the other end of the world so im just miffed abt this #Youtube

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exceedinglygayotter · 2 months

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So I've been reading a lot of Elder Scrolls fanfic recently, and I noticed that it's fairly popular to write crossovers with Dragon Age, specifically to have the author's version of the Last Dragonborn fall into Thedas at the start of Dragon Age: Inquisition and become either the Inquisitor or a companion of theirs.

I've never played Dragon Age (massive CRPGs just aren't my thing), but the idea is a really interesting one. How would Dragon Age characters react to someone who is clearly capable of magic, but has no connection to the Fade because that's just not how magic works on Nirn? How would a Skyrim character react to being thrown into a world that is so superficially similar to their own, yet so fundamentally different, with dragons, elves, and dwarves that bear only the slightest resemblance to what they're used to those words meaning?

Anyway, I had a neat idea for one of these, but since I'm sure I'll never write it I figured I'd post it here. I just think that there's a lot of potential in making the character who gets trapped on Thedas be an ohmes khajiit.

If you don't know, khajiit can be born into one of 16 different "furstocks" depending on the phase of the moons when they are born, ranging all the way from talking house cats (the alfiq) to 10-foot-tall tiger-men (the pahmar-raht), with the ohmes pretty much just looking like elves to the point that many ohmes tattoo more feline features onto their faces in order to make it more obvious that they're khajiit. This means they'd be able to blend in relatively easily since they could just pass themself off as an elf, but would still be a member of a species completely alien to Thedas. Humans are just humans, and even mer could be thought of as basically just weird elves, but there's nothing even similar to the khajiit.

Furthermore, the moons of Nirn are extremely important to every part of khajiiti society from their government to their religion, and this would mean they'd be thrown into a world where those moons just... aren't there. The very sky of Thedas would be alien to them, and a khajiit would be the most affected by that out of all of Nirn's cultures.

On a more metaphysical level, khajiit are innately tied to the Lunar Lattice, which is basically the khajiiti name for the barrier separating Mundus from Oblivion and Aetherius. Azura is worshipped by them as Azurah, a "keeper of all gates and keys, all rims and thresholds," and it's implied that Azurah created the khajiit to help maintain the Lunar Lattice in some way. Seeing as the main plot of DA:I is heavily focused on the Veil between the mortal world and the Fade, you could probably do some very interesting stuff with a character who has an innate connection to a similar metaphysical barrier.

I understand why nobody's done something like this (at least as far as I'm aware), since a lot of people don't even know that the different furstocks exist and ohmes haven't been playable since Arena, but I feel like you could do some really fun stuff with it.

#elder scrolls #dragon age #the elder scrolls #skyrim #fanfic #khajiit #tes

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kenzumekodma · 2 years

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18+, minors & ageless blogs dni

pairing: izuku midoriya x fem!reader

wc: 4153

warnings: praise kink, pet names (bunny, princess), fae!deku, fantasy au, oral (f recieving), vaginal fingering, unprotected sex, implied pervy deku, it’s rly soft and that should be a warning in itself, no beta we die like sean bean in fantasy media

a/n: happy birthday to me! this is v v v self indulgent and akdjsbd i am not sorry reader is me w no face. also, surprise, am back posting after like 8 and a half months of not having the mental energy for it ayyyyyy. kinda set it up for a second part but lord only knows if i’ll get back in the headspace to write it. as always, if you like this and want to encourage me to write more, reblogs are the way to go!

find my masterlist here!

I wish… I wish I could be anywhere but here!

Eyes still closed, you take a shallow breath in and let the force of your air blow out your candles. Sure, you’re a little too old, you think, to be making a frivolous wish, one that only a child could believe would come true. And you knew it wouldn’t, despite the faint glimmer of hope nestled deeply inside your chest. Wouldn’t it have been better to spend your birthday wish on something more realistic, like hearing back about the job interview you had, or getting a raise like you’ve deserved for so long? If you were going to believe in magic, in tipping fate’s favour in your direction, it should be about something that’s within your control to help along, right? But fate works in mysterious ways.

You open your eyes, and the tiny bit of hope in your heart turns to coals. Nothing around you has changed. Your friends are still sitting around the table, looking at you expectantly to cut your cake. As you search for the knife, you could swear you see a flash of dark green from the corner of your eye.

“You okay?” your friend asks, and you notice your eyebrows are knit in confusion.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s, uh, just those little spots you get when you close your eyes too hard, yknow?” You make a show of blinking and force a smile to your face.

——

By the time you’re home, showered, in bed, and listening to music, you’d nearly forgotten about your wish entirely. It’s not until another voice chimes in with the song playing from your speaker. A velvety voice sings along to the words the owner seems to know, hums along to the others. You enjoy it for a moment, until you realize you’re in your room, and you live alone.

What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck? Did someone break in here to sing karaoke? At least they’re not off key… but still what the fuck??? Your thoughts cycle through in half a second, eyes still frozen ahead of you. As you move them to blink, though, you notice the same shade of green as before out of the corner of your eye.

“Did you follow me home?” you ask, dread pooling in the pit of your stomach at the thought that the voice might actually respond. Never once have you wished that you’d had an auditory hallucination more in your life. The green blob encroaching on your peripheral vision jumps.

“I-in a way, I guess?” the voice responds. “You can see me?”

“I’m trying not to, obviously,” you say, still frozen looking at the ceiling. A shiver of discomfort runs up your spine, and you know he’s looking at you. “Who are you and why are you here?” you demand, wavering voice giving you away.

“I, uh, I kind of live here?” his tone is as much of a question as it is an answer. “I’m, um, your guardian faerie. Izuku.” he tacks on his name, an afterthought.

“Bull fucking shit, you can’t live here because I live here. And guardian faerie? Get your folk tales right, it’s a guardian angel. Get, get out of my apartment before I call the cops,” you shout quietly, being careful to not alarm your neighbours. Poor choice, you think, but just in case you can resolve it yourself, or in case what this strange man is saying is true.

You finally bring yourself to look at him, rage evident on your face at having been inadvertently spied on. Gossamer wings peek out from behind his wide shoulders, the same verdant shade as his hair and eyes, you notice. The same green you saw flitting at the corner of your vision when you made your wish.

“I kind of live here because I, I keep an eye on you, so to speak? It’s hard to explain.”

“Turn around,” you request, your voice firm. This stranger, this Izuku, does as you ask, and you see dainty slashes cut in the back of his jacket to accommodate the wings sprouting from between his shoulder blades. “If what you’re saying is true, you can show me where you’re from, right?”

“I can’t not show you where I’m from,” he says, fiddling with the hem of his jacket, suddenly very interested in his feet.

“That’s a double negative. You can, then,” you conclude. “Take me there.”

Izuku grimaces, but gets up from his spot at the end of your bed. Energy pricks at your skin, the air’s charged like lightning about to strike. It picks up until the hair on your arms is standing up as the freckled man before you drags the palm of his hand down the panel of your bedroom door. He opens it unceremoniously to show you what at first looks like nothing. The closer you get, though, the more the other side comes into focus. Overlaid with your hallway, you see a forest at dusk, tinged green by the portal between you and Izuku’s home plane.

“If you go through here, I need you to stay quiet, stick by me, and don’t get noticed,” he says. He’s barely finished stating his conditions before you’re walking headfirst into the unknown realm. He jumps after you, sealing the portal back up as quickly as he can.

Your stomach lurches, and you wonder how Izuku manages to go between worlds so effortlessly, but you’re soothed as the prickling energy dies down. It should come with a warning, though. May cause vertigo, not recommended for children under the age of 12 or anyone human at all, Jesus… you think as you blink hard to try to regain your balance. It has the opposite effect though, as you find yourself tumbling into another creature. A blond man with a knowing smile looks down at you.

“S-sorry, new here, first day,” you mumble as you shake your head and duck behind some trees in the way you came. Izuku couldn’t have gone far, right? He came through after you, unless he left you here and took your apartment for himself. But he said to stick by him? At least that’s what you think you heard, you didn’t stay long enough to process what he was saying.

“Aoyama! Good to see you!” Izuku says. Diverting Aoyama’s attention to him should keep him from seeing you, and should also let you know where he is, he thinks. You catch on quickly, and crouch down, low enough to not be seen through the bushes between trees. Seconds creep by like minutes until you spot Izuku’s red shoes like a beacon and tug on his pants to let him know you’re here.

“Midoriya! It’s been so long, have you gotten tired of your mortal girl? You’ve been there quite a while, even took up their style of dress? Tres fashionable, my friend,” Aoyama takes the greeting as an invitation to catch up.

“No, uh, no not yet,” Izuku laughs sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ve got some urgent business, catch up later?”

“Of course, of course. I won’t keep you.” Aoyama waves, and you get the feeling that he looks to the grass, exactly where you’re on your hands and knees, holding your breath. But you must be imagining it, right?

“That was fucking close,” Izuku says under his breath. “You didn’t let him see you, right?”

You weigh your options for the briefest of moments, before shaking your head side to side.

“Good. It’s lucky it was a friend, though, it could have been way worse,” he says and you breathe a sigh of relief.

“What is this place?” you ask.

“This,” Izuku gestures broadly to the forest around him as you stand up, faint lights of a city in the trees glistening in the distance. “This is Fae. You’ve heard fairy tales before, right? Well here, they’re history. Everything has to come from somewhere. Somewhere where there’s a kernel of truth to everything.”

“Where there’s a kernel of truth to everything? Oh, so what they say about the fae, in my world, it’s true? You can’t lie?”

“Nope. We have to be very careful with our words.”

“Try telling me you’re a purple octopus,” you challenge.

“I-, I’m-,” he tries to start as you giggle. “Oh, stop it, you know I can’t!” He feels his cheeks heat up, and he’s never felt more glad that you’re warming up to him enough to joke around.

“Do you let all the girls you bring to the forest tease you?” you chuckle.

“I haven’t brought anyone back here before,” he says. There’s been no one but you, he thinks, and it’s on the tip of his tongue, but he knows as much as anyone from his world that you shouldn’t let the whole truth go at once. “I shouldn’t have brought you here, it’s dangerous. You’re not supposed to be here, who knows what’ll happen if they find you.”

“If who finds me?” you ask.

“Let’s hope you don’t find out,” he says gravely.

You roll your eyes and turn to make off towards the glittering lanterns in the distance, but a large, scarred hand catches your wrist and for the second time tonight you’re frozen in place by the strange man claiming to be your guardian faerie.

“I’m not kidding, don’t go off on your own. Stay with me. We’ll go anywhere you want, I promise, but I need you to stay with me.” His skin is warm wrapped around yours, and in such close proximity you notice more about him.

Lightly tanned skin, more freckles than you noticed before, his eyes are like a reflection of the forest itself. It’s as if you’re looking at him in high definition, like every human feature he has is amplified and more beautiful than you could’ve put together in your imagination. He’s tall, too. Tall enough you have to tilt your neck back to look him in the eye from this angle. If you were to look head on, though, you’d see the muscle his jacket hides being hinted at by the t-shirt that’s just tight enough across his chest.

“Okay, fine,” you nod, increasingly aware of how close his face is, if only a fair few inches above yours.

“That’s a good girl,” Izuku says. His eyes immediately go wide, and he hopes you don’t recognize where he got that from. Instead, you look down quickly and go quiet. “I, uh, f-forget I said anything, sorry. Wh-where do you want to go?”

You clear your throat. “I want to see the lights,” you decide.

“We’ll have to stay toward the outskirts, but we can do that. The city’s all done up right now, you know. It’s real pretty.”

—-

It doesn’t feel like long, but maybe time passes differently here, you think. The full moon shines brightly above you and you guess it must be past midnight when you arrive near the city gates. You’ve never seen such a beautiful sight in your life, it’s like something that was plucked straight from your childhood daydreams. From your vantage point in the distance, you see elaborate wooden buildings with thatched roofs with moss creeping up the side walls. A circle of stones stands in what you can only imagine is the town square towards the gate. And in the background, sprawling over the city, letting its leaves seemingly touch the sky as well as its citizens, is the most grand willow tree. Paper lanterns adorn the post beside every door, a peculiar yet familiar series of dots poked into each one, letting the light shine through.

“What are those?” you ask, pointing to the lanterns.

“The stars on them? It’s the constellation Perseus. It’s named after an old, old hero from your world. You know, we share the sky,” Izuku explains. “If you think of it like this, there’s an infinite number of worlds, right? Thin as paper, sandwiched one on top of the other between nothingness and the sky. The void is infinite, and so are we. It has a way of making you feel alone but comforted, doesn’t it?”

“That might just be you,” you say, and you’re not sure whether you mean it’s only him that feels comforted, or it’s only him that’s comforting you. “A-anyway, you said there’s a festival, right? What does that have to do with a hero from my world?”

“Right! Every year around this time, there’s falling stars. I, I think you call them a meteor shower? Which sounds like stars taking a bath, but that doesn’t matter. When you watch them, it looks like they’re coming right out of the constellation, so they’re called the Perseids. Did you, uh, want to see them? I know somewhere we won’t run into anyone else,” Izuku offers.

“Yeah, I’d really like that,” you smile, and you think to yourself that just maybe your birthday wish is coming true after all. The coal of hope inside your chest fans into an ember as Izuku takes your hand to guide you to a secluded meadow about fifteen minutes away from the city.

“I used to come here as a kid when I wanted away from everything,” he says, letting go of your hand to balance himself. “Watch your step, the trail gets kind of rocky here.”

The words are barely out of his mouth when a rock slips under your foot, tripping you, and sending you flying into Izuku’s back. You tumble the remaining twenty feet or so, landing in the clearing, and let out a sigh of relief as you feel you’re on solid ground. Hanging your head, you move to get up and find where Izuku ended up.

“This, uh, this isn’t what it looks like, right?” Izuku’s voice comes from underneath you. To your surprise, what you thought was firm ground was muscle.

“I, I uh, it’s not, it’s not!” you exclaim, holding your hands where he can see them. It’s a shame, though, that you don’t quite have your balance, you think, as you fall face first onto his chest.

“You’re not making a good case for yourself, y’know,” he laughs, easing the tension. “If, if you wanted me that badly, you could’ve just said,” he teases.

“I don’t, I swear!” you protest, your ember glowing bigger.

“Are you lying to me, human?” He’s not sure he’s teasing this time. You swallow, your eyes meeting his.

“I, I am.”

With a boost of confidence, Izuku leans up to capture your lips with his own. He’s tender, his soft lips moving gently against yours as you reciprocate the kiss.

“I have to know, though. How long have you been ‘kind of living’ in my apartment?”

Izuku’s face flushes. “It’s been more than a few months. Can, can I explain more later? I’ve wanted to do this since I set eyes on you, I want to treat you properly. Anything you want to know, the answers are yours, I promise. Let me show you what you deserve.”

You nod, and he takes the permission to take your face in his hand. His kiss is more fervent now. A bonfire graces your chest with its presence. It feels like forever and yet not long enough before you break the kiss for a breath. You smile and put your hand over his, turning your head to press a soft kiss to the pads of his fingers. His breath hitches, making you smile wider.

“Y’know, I could get used to you being around,” you murmur to him.

“I want to be around, I want you to see me around,” he whispers back.

Izuku’s strong arms wrap around you, pulling you close to his chest. He rolls with you, his wings unfurling to cast a peridot haze over you with the moonlight. Kisses trail down your neck, to your chest, as one of Izuku’s hands holds your waist, the other keeping his balance. Through your clothing, he nips at your breast, then your other one.

“You’re beautiful,” he breathes. He lifts the hem of your dress up just enough to pepper gentle kisses on your skin, the light touch making you squirm. “Ticklish, or eager?” he asks.

“Both,” you confess. His fingers toy at the elastic of your panties. “If you’re going to take them off, then take them off,” you tell him.

“Maybe I won’t now,” he smirks. “Maybe you’re going to have to earn that privilege.”

“H-how-?” your question is cut off by Izuku’s wandering hand easing your breast from the confines of your dress and latching his lips around your nipple. The swirl of his tongue and the light scrape of his teeth have you clenching around nothing, and you could swear there are double the stars in the sky above you.

“C-can you do that, but, ah, d-down…” you trail off, embarrassed by the idea of saying what exactly you want out loud.

“Between your legs? Of course, bunny, anything to make you feel good,” Izuku smiles and presses the softest of kisses to your forehead. “You just have to say the magic word.”

“P-please, can you?”

“That’s my girl,” he beams.

His deft fingers work their way under your waistband, taking his time as Izuku slides your panties down your thighs, over one ankle, and then the other before they’re laying forgotten in the grass somewhere. He shuffles himself down as gracefully as one can manage in the dark of night until his head rests on the plushness of your inner thigh.

Your folds glisten silver in the reflection of the moon, the light of it making you look as though you’re glowing from inside. Izuku licks a soft strip from your opening to your clit, relishing the taste of your essence he’s been dying to have for many, many months. And like with a fine meal, once he’s had a taste, there’s no stopping him.

Your whole body shudders as he teases his way around in circles, getting close to your sensitive bud but never quite touching it. A loud whimper is torn from your throat when he finally flicks his tongue up across it. Primal and hungry, it’s purely human, and music to his ears. He darts his tongue into you to give you a brief respite before latching around your clit, alternating between suckling light pressure and giving you broad strokes with his tongue flattened.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop, please, ‘Zuku!” you cry out, and he knows you’re a hair’s breadth away from the edge. He pulls back, forcing your body to calm back down.

“Wh-what’d you do that for?” you can’t stop the pout on your face from forming.

“Trust me, okay? It’s gonna feel even better around my cock. Wanna make you feel so good, bunny. Doesn’t my pretty girl wanna feel good?”

You nod, hellbent on being good for him, and he smiles, the wetness of your arousal glistening around his mouth. Izuku leans down and kisses you once more, this time you taste yourself on his tongue.

“When you feel like you’re ready, let me know, okay? I have to prep you a little first, I don’t want to hurt you.” He peppers kisses along your cheek, and you look away, but smile and nod. “Getting shy on me?” he chuckles. You start to shake your head, but nod instead. “You’re cute, you know that?”

“‘M ready, is what I am,” you counter. The white hot feeling in your abdomen has subsided, although the fire in your chest is hotter than the core of any star you’ve ever seen.

“You sure?”

“Mhm, I’m ready for you ‘Zuku.”

Izuku presses one last soft peck to your lips before repositioning his face between your legs once more, this time with his fingers circling your entrance, ready to take the plunge.

“It’s going to stretch a little, okay?”

“‘Kay.”

With his tongue flat, he licks your clit with very little pressure, just enough to distract you from the intrusion of one of his fingers. The stretch isn’t as bad as you’d expected, and he finds your little bundle of nerves without any issue. When he adds a second finger, though, you inhale sharply.

“Look at me, princess. You’re doing so well for me, so well. Taking my fingers so well. So good, princess,” he says between kisses to your mound. You mewl at the praise, you’d do anything to hear it again.

“‘Nother one, gimme a-another one, please.”

He scissors his two fingers inside you, stretching you until he’s sure you can take a third. Slowly, he withdraws his fingers, and slower still he pushes three back inside, being sure to suckle and flick his tongue quickly around your clit to keep you from clenching too tightly around them. You adjust quicker than he expects, something he’s thankful for. His cock is getting too hard to ignore, straining at his pants as it is.

“Ready, bunny?” He waits as patiently as he can for you to nod before he pulls his fingers out. Fumbling with his pants seems to take an eternity to him, and he curses mortal fashion for putting aesthetics over functionality.

“Let me,” you say quietly. You reach out, and with a swift motion you have his pants undone, threatening to fall down his waist.

“Thank you. Such a good girl for me, you are. So helpful,” he showers you in praise.

He takes a moment to memorize every inch of your face, the curve of your hips, the soft texture of your skin underneath him as he lines himself up to sink himself into you. You gasp softly as he slowly pushes his tip past your ring of muscle, and you’re so glad you let him stretch you for as long as he did. He feels big, big enough you’d have tapped out if he hadn’t.

You feel a vein slide against your velvet walls in the most delicious way, and you clench around his thick girth.

“‘M not even in all the way, bunny,” he breathes out a chuckle. Forever and a day seems to pass by before he’s sunk himself into you to the hilt. “Say the word an’ I’ll start moving,” he says, dizzy already from how tight and sweet you are.

“P-please, ‘Zuku,” you beg, “feel like I’m gonna explode if you don’t move,” you whimper. Izuku has never been one to deny you anything. Any little push of fate, anything he can help you and get away with, he has. Hell, his intervention is the long ago catalyst to your tryst, but he’ll tell you about it later, he thinks. Until then, all he wants to think about is how right it feels to have your legs wrapped around him, to have you to himself so intimately.

His thrusts are slow and deep, and when you close your eyes, you see shooting stars more clearly than you can with the meteor shower going on above you. You rock your hips into his, desperately pushing your lips to his neck, kissing every free inch of skin you can get your lips on.

“Close?” asks Izuku.

“Y-yeah, ‘m t-too close,” you whimper. He ensnares you in a searing kiss.

“Go ahead, princess, cum for me,” he murmurs against your lips. With a whine, you’re gripping him inside and out, like you’ll never let him go. Your eyes squeezed shut as he rips the orgasm from your body. “S-such a good girl, good princess, so good, g-good,” Izuku babbles as he tumbles off the edge, releasing thick ropes of sticky white inside you. His damp curls stick to his forehead as he rests his head against yours. You settle your hand in his hair and pull his head down just a little bit further to press a kiss to his lips.

“L-look, there’s so many of them,” you say, looking just behind his head to the night sky. If you didn’t know better, you’d say dozens of stars were falling from the sky just for the two of you. Izuku leans on his forearm, letting himself fall to the side and pulling you in close to him.

“You’re like my own little star who’s come to the ground,” he says quietly, kissing your temple.

“Is, is this all because of my wish earlier? Do you think?” you ask.

“I can’t be sure, but I think so.”

“Whether it is or not, this is the most I’ve felt alive in as long as I can remember,” you confess. The sun itself can’t rival what was once an ember in your chest threatening to go out. “I hope no matter what plane, I don’t have to be without you again.” Izuku pulls you closer in his arms, admiring you as you look from him to the sky once again.

“I hope so too, bunny. I hope so too.”

taglist: @patchworkpuzzle @jozhenji @hanayanetwork

#deku x reader #izuku x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #deku x reader smut #deku smut #izuku x reader smut #izuku smut #izuku midoriya x reader smut #bnha x reader #bnha x reader smut #bnha smut #mha x reader #mha x reader smut #mha smut #deku x you #izuku x you #izuku midoriya x you #bnha fantasy au #mha fantasy au

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thewhumperinwhite · 1 month

Text

WKW: Spine

Masterpost // Previous

@annablogsposts @whump-cravings @whumpitywhumpwhump @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @favwhumpstuff @the-monarch-whumperfly @iboopsstuff (also: i finally added a taglist to my main wkw doc, so please send me a message if you wanna be on that list)

TW for: back injury; burns; Magical Injury/painful healing; guilt; Injury To The Degree That It Is Kind Of Body Horror; potential/partial paralysis; referenced past abuse/murder; referenced noncon; nonsexual nudity (brief/implied).

----

Night has barely fallen when they bring the dying Prince to Feira’s salon. By the time she has stitched him together enough to leave him sleeping on her table, his face shadowed and aura flickering but death no longer crouching on his chest, the sun is streaming through the salon’s single window and directly into Feira’s eyes. She collapses back into the single chair that sits opposite her table, wiping sweat and stray strands of grey hair from her forehead with the least bloody part of her sleeve.

It should not have taken this long.

Spines are delicate things, and the care with which she knits one back together will mean the difference between a Prince who someday walks again and one who doesn’t; but she has studied the inner workings of the spine extensively, ever since she put the Prince’s back together from whole cloth after his botched execution. This was never going to be easy, but it should certainly be possible.

It takes her twenty long, harrowing minutes to identify the problem, as she has never encountered anything quite like it before. The iron manacle, clamped to the stump of the Prince’s wrist, is drinking in her magic. Sucking it up like a rag in a puddle. By the end of that first twenty minutes, she is sweating with effort, the Prince is still writhing with the effort of each breath, and when she happens to brush the manacle with the back of her hand, she draws back with a hiss. The metal is hot enough to burn her skin.

Feira is familiar with iron as an insulator against magical energy, of course. Magic-resistant armor is always made of iron; one of the earliest ways to recognize magical aptitude in a child is a rash-like reaction to the touch of iron. But she’s never seen anything like this before. She takes hold of the Prince’s wrist to examine the manacle—seeing, now, the way his skin is already reddening from the heat—and sees the unfamiliar rune welded into the metal. It can be no accident: it must be an intentional damper on the Prince’s magic.

There are—implications, there. About the fall of Fourshield House; about claims that the White Crane has made. None of which Feira has time to think about now, while the Prince is dying on her table, and she does not have the key to his cursed shackle.

It is—not an insurmountable obstacle. But it does mean that Feira must dig deeper into her Patron’s magical reserves than she ever has before, must strain her own aura to the point of pain and dig deeper into the Prince’s soul than she would ever have done given the choice—and must close her eyes to how the skin of his arm reddens and then blisters. The Prince slips in and out of awareness throughout the night; sometimes he is even awake enough to beg for mercy, though he never seems coherent enough to know who his torturer is, and Feira is shamefully grateful for that.

In the end, he still—has an arm, however useless it is without a hand attached. It is a horrible sun-scorched red up to the elbow; the place where the manacle once touched skin has burned down deep into the flesh beneath; in between the skin has bubbled and blistered in ways that make Feira have to stop in the middle and waste seconds she doesn't have gulping air and trying not to be sick. And even then—a spine is a finnicky thing. She may have twisted his arm beyond repair without even returning the use of his legs. She doesn’t know. Certainly he will be well within his rights to hate her to the end of his days, for these hours of torture if not for the years of neglect that preceded them.

But he does not die.

----

Thorne does not expect to fall asleep, not even when he gives up on pacing the hallway and sits down outside the Healer’s door with his forehead pressed to his knees and his eyes squeezed shut. Andry is not screaming as much, by then. Thorne doesn’t know if that means the pain has lessened, or the Prince’s throat has simply given out.

He doesn’t know how long he sleeps; he doesn’t even know it's happened until he hears his Master’s voice—he knows it immediately, even in sleep, and is halfway to his feet before he is fully awake or his Master has finished the sentence—say, “What are you doing here?”

Thorne snaps to attention, though he has to grab the wall to keep from falling over while his vision clears. Morden is looking at him with blank surprise but no anger, thank the gods. Morden looks like he hasn't slept, either, and for some reason there is a smudge of blood near one corner of his jaw, like he has tried to wipe it away and not quite succeeded.

“Master,” Thorne says, his mind blessedly blank with relief. “I was—” Part of him knows he is not being careful enough, that he is too tired and wrung out to pay attention to what he says, that he must no better, by now, than to speak to his Master without thinking first.“Someone—I wanted to—they almost killed him, Master,” he blurts out. He sounds like a child to his own ears; high pitched and near tears.

Morden blinks at Thorne. Thorne cannot read his Master's face. That sends an immediate spike of panic into Thorne's guts that brings him halfway back into his body, thankfully. He pulls himself together, with a mighty effort, and bows his head properly, like he is giving an ordinary report, and his voice is almost steady, this time.

“There was an attempt on the Summer Prince’s life, Master,” Thorne says, without lifting his head. “I was—absent from my quarters at the time. I apologize for not taking more care with your gift.”

He should say more. He should tell Morden about the guards. Even if... they were enlisted men, not officers, but Morden might still notice their absence. Thorne didn’t even think to look around the Healer’s room' their bodies might be right inside the door for all he knows. He should tell Morden.

(The word "gift" shouldn't make his mouth fill up with bile, like he's going to gag on what his Master has given him. He should be anticipating his Masters needs and striving to meet them. He shouldn't be thinking about his Master's needs and feeling—feeling—)

(Morden, for his part, is afflicted with a strong desire to laugh. Thorne, his head still bowed, does not see this. Morden schools his features carefully before Thorne meets his eyes.)

“…I see,” Morden says. “And was that attempt successful?”

Thorne shakes his head.

“No, Master,” he says. “No, he—he’s alive. But—I—they—” The words do not want to come. But his Master is watching, so he makes them. “His back is broken, I think,” he says, though it comes out thin and whispery and wrong.

Morden raises his eyebrows. Thorne looks at the blood on his Master’s jaw. His Masters next words are muffled by the sudden buzzing in Thorne’s ears.

“I imagine he'll be fine,” Morden says, and brushes past him to open the Healer’s door.

----

Andry knows the ceiling of the Healer’s room as soon as he opens his eyes. It is decorated with vines and fruit and beehives, sculpted out of white plaster, cracked a little with age.

He feels cracked that way himself. He doesn’t try to move his arm, but even in stillness it feels

(like it is filled with crawling insects who are eating it from the inside like old wood like it is in a sleeve of struck matches like it has swollen so far that the skin has split like rotten meat left in the sun)

bad.

The door of the Healer’s room opens. Andry does not see who has entered, at first; he only sees Lady Feira, the old Court Healer, leap to her feet, placing herself bodily between him and the intruder.

“No,” Lady Feira says, in thickly-accented Leisevan. “No visitors. Get out.”

“Now is a bad time to be in my way, Madam Healer,” the Winter King says in a soft, gentle voice. His Craetan is very good, as always.

Andry feels his heart stutter painfully in his chest, but it has been a long, long night, and he is too tired to feel properly afraid.

Lady Feira is shaking her head. “No. It is enough. You have done enough, you will do no more, I will not—”

Andry takes hold of the Healer’s wrist with his good hand. She stills, though he can feel that she is trembling slightly.

“It’s alright, Feira,” he rasps.

Lady Feira turns to look down at him, over her shoulder. She looks—stricken in a way he has never seen her look before, even when his fever came back a few weeks after his back had begun to heal. He might feel sorry for her, in a few hours. He is too tired for it, just at the moment.

Lady Feira removes her spectacles and rubs her eyes, letting her shoulders sag and not looking at either Andry or Morden.

“Fine,” she says, after a moment, in Craetan. “Fine. Speak, Winter King; but do no more or you will waste the hours I have just spent keeping the Prince alive.”

Andry can see just enough of Morden over the Healer’s shoulder to see him cross his arms and raise his eyebrows at her expectantly. The Healer swears under her breath. She turns back to Andry.

“Don’t try to move,” she says curtly. Her expression seems more under control, though her eyes are still tight with misery. “I won’t go far.”

It’s—kind enough, as a sentiment. Andry knows she can do less than nothing against Morden, any more than he can. It’s nice that she's—thinking of him, he supposes.

Morden watches her leave. When she has closed the door behind her, he turns to look down at Andry, narrowing his black eyes.

Morden pulls up the Healer’s chair and sits down beside the sickbed. The Healer has draped a blanket across Andry's chest; it is the only thing between him and the Winter King. Andry tucks his ruined arm underneath it.

“Alright, Summer Prince," Morden says. "You've got my attention. Tell me about your sister.”

#the winter king's ward #original whump #fantasy whump #royalty whump #broken bones #magical healing #painful healing #guilt #manipulative whumper #brainwashing and manipulation #<-it's not like Being Done in this chapter but thorne is. Feeling Some Cognitive Dissonance and he Doesn't Like It #back injury tw #burns tw #referenced noncon

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bestworstcase · 1 year

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Salem said the Hound was "an experiment", but she never specified for what. Maybe it's her attempt at Ascension...?

the purpose of an experiment is to substantiate or refute a hypothesis, yeah? the hound exists in answer to a question. something salem didn’t know, but knew enough about to make what seems to have been a pretty good guess. she says she’s “pleased with the results [so far],” meaning the hound is evidently an at least partial success.

salem also spends quite a lot of V8 attempting to fill gaps in the information she has—throughout most of the volume her top priority is gaining access to the lamp’s knowledge. capturing the staff seems to be a secondary concern. thus, the hound belongs to a narrative arc which tilts on the fulcrum of questions salem wants answered.

so… what most interests me about the hound is the unknown hypothesis. what didn’t salem know? what was she trying to learn?

here’s some things to chew on:

#1: the audience knows something that disproves (or at least casts into serious doubt) ruby’s conclusion.

she thinks salem has been making hounds out of silver-eyed people for a decade or more, starting with summer. this cannot be true, because the hound is very new. salem isn’t experimenting ten+ years ago, she’s experimenting NOW.

#2: why now?

the nature of an experiment is that it begins with an idea of what might happen. that salem is doing this NOW isn’t, cannot be arbitrary—something gave her the idea. it is unlikely that “something” happened over a decade ago and she’s only just now getting around to it; salem is patient, but she does not waste time. doesn’t it make more sense to suppose that some recent event revealed a gap in her knowledge that she is now attempting to close? something like, oh, i don’t know—

#3: everybody knows that silver eyes only work on grimm…

…and cinder, that one time.

the question of why ruby’s first glare mutilated cinder is a textual mystery—in the sense that none of the heroic characters know the answer, and it’s inexplicable by the common in-universe theory of how this kind of magic works. the general assumption in the wider fandom is that the grimm beetle is to blame and salem knows it, but ruby hits cinder with a second fully-fledged glare at the end of V7 and cinder walks away completely unscathed. while grimmness may be a causal factor it seems not to be the only one.

we also don’t know exactly what happened in between the fall of beacon and cinder’s next appearance months at the top of V4—we don’t get to see how salem reacted, we only know the broad strokes of what information got reported back to her, and we don’t know anything about the circumstances surrounding the grimm arm being grown or grafted.

aside from a couple relevant details which i expect to be explored later (chiefly, to what extent cinder chose the arm) this is not information that we need to know—but i think it IS worth keeping in mind that we don’t know it, because it means we don’t know the extent of salem’s knowledge.

and that question—how much does salem know, and is her understanding accurate?—is key.

salem states that becoming the maiden is what made cinder vulnerable to the silver glare, and loosely implies that it’s a vulnerability cinder can defend. this is generally interpreted as a manipulative lie, but… we don’t know a lot about silver eyes, what we do know is mainly folklore, and cinder seems to be developing a resistance to the glare, which is a strong point of evidence in salem’s favor.

anyway, the point being: silver eyes are supposed to only work on grimm, but ruby’s glare maimed cinder. the lion’s share of salem’s screen time in V4-5 involves cinder’s recovery—salem provides an explanation, devotes months training cinder to achieve basic control over the grimm arm, and handles cinder’s feelings about the order to leave ruby alive. this is the focal point of salem’s character during this leg of the story.

then cinder falls from grace and salem is blindsided by the news that ozpin reincarnated way faster than anticipated, and… salem sort of recedes into the distant background of the narrative. we barely see her in V6. she’s not in V7 at all until the very end. we know she spends this time churning out an army, but That’s It—and then she turns up in atlas with the hound.

you see the dots i’m connecting here? salem’s path through the narrative goes like like: heavy involvement with cinder’s recovery after the glare and grimm arm -> months of radio silence -> kicks in the door with an experimental silver-eyed grimm in tow. why now? what gave her the idea? what hypothesis is she testing?

the explanation that makes the most sense to me is that salem doesn’t fully understand why the glare maimed cinder. i think she might know (or suspect) some things that give her a solid general sense of what happened and why, but she’s still in uncharted territory and she’s trying to figure it out. i think the things she tells cinder in V4-5 are theories—and the hound was meant to test those theories, evidently successfully.

which tracks with what we see play out in V6-7; maria’s silver eyes theory is inadequate to explain cinder, salem appears to be wrong about the maidens being vulnerable to the glare but broadly correct about cinder’s vulnerability being a consequence of something other than grimmness.

#4: death and resurrection

by this point it seems… pretty evident that silver eyes are connected to death in a more-than-symbolic way. there’s the flashbacks ruby experiences of pyrrha’s last words in V4. there’s the glare taking the hand cinder killed pyrrha with and the eye that didn’t get the maiden-eye-flames until she killed amber. and there’s ruby returning from her (symbolic) death being heralded by an explosion of white light, in contrast with the white-gold we see when the herbalist is reborn. and of course there’s the white void that people from remnant pass through when they die. and silver eyes themselves derive from ozma + resurrected humankind.

whether or not salem knows of ascension, i’m positive that she made this connection after the fall of beacon.

i think that’s probably why the question of whether cinder killed ozpin is a point of contention: cinder says she killed three people. the glare maimed her twice over, taking the parts of her that physically or spiritually touched two of her victims at the moment of death. if that isn’t coincidental, it leaves ozpin unaccounted for.

and i think that’s probably the line of reasoning salem followed to get to “it’s because of the maiden’s power.” she’s drawing a connection between the glare and the maiden power through the death required to inherit the magic. hence, also, the implicit association salem draws between “be patient about the maidens” and “be careful of ruby’s eyes” in V5.

so i figure that salem developed the hound to test that connection. its core is a silver-eyed faunus who should be very dead but isn’t. the… general assumption is that salem accomplished this by dipping the guy in a grimm pool, but… silver eyes are vanishingly rare! where did she find him! which is why i’m more inclined to think that he didn’t have them when salem found him, and part of the experiment involved turning his eyes silver, possibly by killing and reviving him.

(that or she straight up personified a grimm somehow. or borrowed one of summer’s eyes.)

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platinumrosetail · 7 months

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Yandere Seth x reader.

Warning: well, I think the same context with the reader. Eldest daughter of Osiris. Just another situation. The fem reader was forced to take her own life, cutting her throat with a sword (I based it on the goddess from the tgcf novel) and since it was with her own divine weapon, she ends up bleeding to death. Without being able to say goodbye to her beloved Seth. Lectora's soul did not end up in the Duat, despite her father's (Osiris) attempts to capture her. However, she was in a lonely place for several years, feeling guilty for leaving Seth. Wishing that if she had no chance of coming back to life, at least Seth would forget about her. One day they let her fulfill her wish. She returns with the mission of making Seth forget her and move on with his life, reincarnating in the body of a young blind girl who has just died. (Detail how the reader possesses that body, recovers her sight) obviously with a grace period, so that Seth forgets her. She goes undercover as a servant, acting as the body's previous owner and feigning blindness. Also here I say something that will be key, is that its appearance is different from what it had. As an example, in his previous body he had blonde hair and here he has raven hair. The only thing she still has that she knows can give her away is a mark on her neck, right where she cut her throat. But for a while she managed not to look suspicious. The fem reader had to hurry because time is running out.

Finally, as a final detail, his younger brother Horus has been king for a long time. His mother, Isis, continued to heal people. His other younger brother recovered his memory. On Seth's side, he once again became the god of war.

Thank you very much for accepting another request, I really appreciate it.

Oooooh interesting! Hope I don’t misunderstand anything 😁

Warning: noob author, female reader, yandere romantic characters, and others.

Character: Seth.

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

You had to take your life as your father threatened to use Anubis and Horus again if you don’t give up your soul to him, you knew you didn’t want to do that but you also didn’t want your brothers of going through such pain especially Anubis since he had went through it before when the two of you were younger.

But before you did take your life you made sure to put a protective spell on Seth, Anubis, and Horus so that they could be safe from Osiris, it was your favorite flower that appeared on their skin that shows that the spell is now activated, even if you’ll have end your life it’ll still work as you put every magic force into that spell.

You silently apologize to Seth and your brothers which was unintentional heard by all three in their heads, it confused them on why they heard this so they decided to go to your room but only found you with a slit throat caused by your divine sword that was on the floor underneath your dominant hand which implies what had happened.

They were devastated and quickly searched the room after cleaning you up and putting you on your bed before searching your room to see if there was any clues on if this was framed or not.

Seth had found a note on your desk that you had in your room and brought it to your brothers attention, he read out loud on how it explains how you’re sorry for leaving them and that you had no choice as it was for their safety as their lives were being threatened and you didn’t want them to be in such pain so you had to do it and you hoped that they would all forget you as you knew they would be mad you made this decision but hope they respect it as you wanted them safe and didn’t know how else to go about it, you also explained how you put a protection spell on them just in case and to never let their guard down as well as work together if anything happens.

When you gained conciseness you soon realized that your soul didn’t go to dust like you thought but instead to a young woman who used to be blind before you reincarnated into her which effectively recovered her or now your eye sight.

Every that seems to know this body knew that she was blind so you decided to feign blindness so as to not rise any suspicion and confusion on how the girl that originally was blind before you unintentionally took hold of her body and to hopefully not bring any attention to yourself from your family.

You found out that apparently it’s been years after your death even though it felt like a second for you, you also found out that your brother became king and helped Seth get back his position as god of war and sand, how you found all this out is because you decided to become a servant and gain information while also helping Seth and your brothers in the dark.

Seth and your brothers didn’t forget you as they just couldn’t let go of the memories of you now that you were gone, but one day they felt your magic through the protection spell mark.

They could only think of one thing and that is you’re somehow alive once more, or at least your soul is here and in another body. They decide to go through the female servants and paid close attention while interrogating them while also making sure no one is pretending to be you in another body and lying to them.

They know that you can look different from how you used to look so they decided to use what they know about your mannerisms and personality that might leak out while talking to the female servants so that they can find you easier.

You try to hide who you actually were as you didn’t want to put them in anymore danger you probably already had but sadly that proves to be harder than you thought as your personality is like second nature so you can’t fully control how you act or what you do when it’s already been a habit and you have to hide the scar that appeared on your neck as that could definitely give you away, you disguise when asked as you liked the necklace/choker and decided to wear it after buying it.

Let’s just hope this last long enough before your time runs out.

(A/n: hope y’all like it! I didn’t know if they captured her or not as it didn’t seem to have been mentioned or implied so I decided to go with that so hope you don’t mind! Anyway hope y’all have a wonderful day/evening/night!!)

#anime #anime x reader #various x reader #x reader stories #yandere x reader #ennead mojito #ennead x reader #seth ennead #ennead manhwa #ennead #ennead seth

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