#and it's like he's trying to protect jade from the trauma
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HELP THE WESTERN CLIFF MYRAD LOOKS LIKE HE JUST NUZZLED JADE INTO THE NOOK OF HIS WING AFTER SHE PET HIM LIKE "YES U ARE MY BABY BIRD NOW" IM CRYING
#enderal#enderal forgotten stories#vynblr#myrads#myrad#jade the prophetess#buttinsky pls#i was planning to explore fort valstaag for the first time#and it's like he's trying to protect jade from the trauma#my sweet dude#my best boy#i would die for you
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—"THAT'S MY LULLABY" leona kingscholar
SYNOPSIS: While putting your cub (and husband) to sleep, you decide to sing her a traditional yet slightly…spiteful lullaby.
⊹ [ cw ] — children(?), talks about political lineage, slight mention of leona's trauma ◞
⊹ [ tags ] — female reader! fluff! angst if you squint, girl-dad leona brainrots, reader sings zira's lullaby◞
⊹ [ w.c ] — 0.8k◞ | 🦇masterlist◞
"Now, Zahra, it's best if you don't run so quickly."
As you make your way to the enormous king-sized bed in the room, the drapes of your cream robes glide across the polished stone floors. A tumble of long dark braided locks and adorably round ears bounce as your itty-bitty daughter jumps onto the mattress, scrambling over to the enormous figure laying in the middle.
As Zahra moves closer to the blanket-clad body, her tail flutters joyfully in the air. With a loud, high-pitched roar, she pounces on her prey—landing atop Leona's stomach and knocking the air out of her father's lungs.
"Pap?" she calls out, pawing at your husband's cheek until he drowsily blinks awake. A low growl bubbles from Leona's throat, hoarse and dry from having been woken up by the small beast scaling him like a mountain while he was sleeping.
"Are you awake?" she asks, tugging at his ears. The lion let out a grunt in response, drowsily opening his arms up and allowing the girl to wiggle into his warm embrace. He gives her tangled mop of hair a tender kiss, then buries his face in it, sighing heavily.
"Where's your mother?" he murmurs.
"There!" Zahra beams, pointing to you with her tiny hands. Leona moves to turn to you, jade green eyes drinking in the sight of your figure dressed in a sleeping robe that looked far from modest.
All of a sudden, his tail coils up and tightens around your waist, tugging you forward until your noses and lips brushed dangerously near each other. Tutting, you smack his chest, glowering at his arrogant and smug expression. "Leona!"
"Yeah, yeah. Just c'mere." Without missing a beat, he dragged you into his bed, engulfing both you and Zahra in his firm arms.
The two of you, mother and daughter, giggle as the lion plants warm kisses on each of your cheeks, arms protectively wrapped around your bodies. Soon enough, his affections dissipate your anger, replacing it with something warm and loving.
"Mmph!" Zahra suddenly hums, stretching her arms up as she tosses and turns in between you both. Her cheek then rests on Leona's chest, big doe eyes darting between you both, unable to focus on just one. "I'd like a lullaby."
"A lullaby?" you repeated as you sat up to pinch the cub's cheek between your pointer finger and thumb. "You want a lullaby?"
Zahra nods her head excitedly, glossy eyes practically begging for you to sing her a song.
A memory then roused, faint through the veil of your teenage years long since abandoned, but just barely there. Memories of your fingers threading through Leona's hair as he lay in the botanical gardens, being lulled to sleep by the lullaby that moved from your lips.
Those memories seem like so long ago, now.
"All right," you say, smiling, "hush now, my little one; you must be exhausted." The two lions were now staring at you silently, both eagerly awaiting the soft song you promised.
As a low hum spills from your tongue, Leona's eyes momentarily widen when he recognizes the tune, a pleased smirk playing on his lips.
Threading your finger into Zahra's knotted hair, you can barely remember the words but…you begin to sing.
"Sleep, my little Zahra. Let your dreams take wing." The cub was already fluttering her green eyes close, cheek pressed to her father’s sharp collarbone as her legs sway to the beat. "One day, when you're big and strong, you will be a king."
Zahra let out nonsensical babbles into his skin, trying to sing along as she buries her face farther against his collarbone. Leona feels his lips crack up into a fond smile and you, too, grin, continuing the song.
"The melody of angry growls," your hand trails up Zahra's back, raking into her hair as you brush the loose strands away from her face. "A counterpoint of painful howls."
"A symphony of death, oh my~" Voice a tad bit breathless, you looked down at the drowsy cub in your husband's embrace. By this time, Zahra had fallen asleep, and Leona could feel her tiny, quiet puffs of breath on the side of his neck.
Pressing a lithe kiss atop her forehead, you hum out the final line, finally easing her into dreamland. "That's my lullaby."
As your song ended, the second-born prince gazed upon his child and saw all the years of his own suppressed pain and agony reflected in her.
In his chest, an uneasy and unpleasant sensation arose. He was all too aware of the influence and upheaval that the politics surrounding royal lineages had.
Zahra, though, unlike him, had a chance.
And Leona was going to make sure that it doesn't slip away from her grasp.
"It's okay," The prince murmurs, his voice as gentle and soothing as possible so as not to disturb her. "You'll be a king soon enough."
"I'll make sure of it."
#twisted wonderland#twisted wonderland x reader#leona kingscholar#leona kingscholar x reader#twst leona kingscholar#leona kingscholar x mc
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the courtship of princess shuri
should we talk about the courtship of shuri?
let’s be real, namor is gambling a lot on shuri accepting any type of proposal. he’s showing her his home, he’s being vulnerable about his trauma, and he is risking the wrath of wakanda with holding her ‘hostage ’.
so why shuri? i got three reasons- the mythical, the political, and the romantic.
firstly, it’s because she’s his mirror image. not to bang on the same drum but wakanda forever is extremely mythic. i’m comfortable in believing some soulmatism is at play here. despite never meeting her before, he recognises something that is within himself. and he is drawn to it. like two halves of the same soul trying to stitch itself together again. despite being princess and god king, they are mythic equals. they burn with the same fire.
secondly, she’s the princess of wakanda. if there was anyone who would be the best person to strategically seduce it would be her. why? because he overhead both the queen and princess on the beach. while the queen was reaching for peace, the princess was reaching for anger. he knew which one to charm. winning over the heir to the throne would a massive win for his kingdom’s strategic interests. a defence alliance would be inevitable and he would have achieved protection for his people. it’s straightforward politicking. and this hope of an alliance drives him through the entire movie. he’s blinded by it.
thirdly, he’s intrigued by shuri. i have no doubt that he knew of shuri before they met on the beach. it’s not the biggest reach that he would be aware of the princess who’s a scientific genius, scoffs at tradition but is also ready to go into battle to protect her people. i think this reason is solidified during her visit talokan. her compassion, empathy and sense of justice, even in the midst of her grief, threatens to bend him slightly. you see him pause and bargain with her. the more he’s around her, the more he wants her to stick around.
i think all three reasons are correct. it’s a mixture of hope for an alliance, meeting a mythic equal, and shuri’s attractive characteristics which makes namor pursue her and this ‘courtship’.
and how did her court her? well:
he gives her a beautiful talokanil gown that is dripping is jade (one of the most valuable stones and has many connotations with love). it was specifically made for her. his symbol is also embroidered in it. he is also dressed to the nines, regal- he wanted to dress up for her. which makes sense. he wants to impress her.
he gifts her a valuable family heirloom. the bracelet is gorgeous, but also was the symbolic promised made to his mother that namor would be king. he’s openly trusting her with an object that holds so much history and it’s a gift of gratitude. what is he thanking her for? her openness, understanding, empathy? she has obviously left a stunning impression on the god king.
he tells her the story of talokan. knowledge is power and it’s a scene of both trust and vulnerability that he lets her know the history of his people. and he emphasises the why over the how. he needs her to understand why the protection of his people are so important to him.
he makes her one of the only people from the surface to see talokan. it isn’t clear whether he planned this from the start or if shuri’s eagerness made him throw caution to wind. again he remarks how he was blinded by hope, so maybe the latter. he is also very proud to show off the sun he gave to his people. a scientific genius seeing an underwater sun that he built?! yeah, he knows what he’s doing
maybe most importantly, he listens and offers her understanding when she is opening up about her pain. he talks about his fears and vulnerabilities too. as a god, he is constantly grieving the lives of tolakanil who age normally. he is unable to answer her questions, but gives advice from his ancestors and alludes to the fact she could still be a great leader, even if she feels broken.
and let it be known that namor was written to be seductive. ryan coogler says as much. coogler also lists the key principles that they couldn’t change about namor, a few of these things being his charisma, confidence and hitting on other people’s wives. simply, namor was written to have that seductive swagger and charm that could win over people.
and it was working. at the end of their little moment, shuri has a greater understanding and respect towards namor and talokan. she accepts him putting the bracelet on around her wrist when she could have easily refused. she truly admires what namor has done for his people. this is the guy who threatened wakanda with an army the first time he met the queen and wants to kill riri williams. and shuri let her guard down and allowed him to charm her. but not to the point of throwing away her own sense of justice. something namor tries to bargain with but has no such luck.
but even after shuri is ‘rescued’ it’s still so telling that shuri keeps wearing the bracelet until someone brings attention to it. namor is literally caressing the shell he gave to wakanda after shuri leaves. he teases and calls her princess in the midst of battle. whatever they had didn’t just die when she left talokan. only there’s no time to dwell on it when war comes knocking.
it could have been different namor remarks after everything. after attacking wakanda, killing her mother and finally stabbing shuri onto a rock. it’s interesting that’s what his mind goes to. their unofficial ‘courtship’. and he doesn’t seem victorious in that moment. just deeply disappointed. the hope he had cruelly taken away from him.
shuri revives that hope. with a spear at his throat, she is reminded of her time in talokan, of namor’s smile, at his love for his people. she draws parallels and sees herself in him. it’s what brings back her from the brink of eternal war. and she offers an alliance on her terms.
so the question is, was the courtship a success?
namor seems to think so. or at least he knows this isn’t the end. he believes princess shuri will inevitably be back for his help soon enough once the world turns on wakanda. and then the control would be back in his court. i can’t help but think he has other reasons besides politics as to why he wants shuri to turn to him. the lonely god craves an equal. but these reasons might get him into trouble with namora.
it is clear that the ‘courtship’ of princess shuri was not a failure, but warm up for next game between panther and feathered serpent which namor is eagerly awaiting. i don’t believe shuri could be so easily charmed this time round, but i’ll never underestimate a relentless god who has found his mythical equal.
#i love looking at their dynamic like this#wakanda forever spoilers#wakanda forever#namuri#namor x shuri#shuri x namor#meta#marvel#mcu#black panther#nashuri
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i already posted this in some tags but I want to be more insane acryally. This is kind of just my opinion on Edwin and The Cat Kings relationship n why I don’t think fans should try and push their relationship.
Their relationship is starts off and is mostly the cat kings own narcissism and predatory (not age wise; I mean literally) behavior towards Edwin and Edwin's need for someone to push him into understanding that his queerness doesn't have to be torture and can be something giddy (even if he doesn't return those feelings). This is super important to Edwin but his rejection of TCK is also as he immediately recognizes his lack of feelings and actual literal discomfort at the moves placed on him. TCK is good about boundaries and consent sexually wise but that doesn’t stop their relationship from progressing from there.
At first, the cat king does like Edwin but he doesn’t know anything about him. He sees their relationship as a game and Edwin simply as someone he wants to have simply because he can’t. He continues to torment Edwin (showing up as people he does like, propositioning him still, being threatening when his control is questioned) through out the show but starts to feel that “romanticism” towards him because hes infatuated by the kindness he's shown despite the cruelty he's presented to Edwin. Queerness and performance always go hand in hand and Edwin’s lack of it entices the Cat King.
The show runners and Lukas, the actor, have said themselves that the cat king is an older secretly insecure character. He’s jaded by heartbreak the the world’s condemnation of everything he is. Edwin is this younger, genuinely kind character that shows him that projecting his hurt on others and romanticizing it only hurts both people in that relationship. Their relationship is about the isolation of queerness and the walls put up to protect yourself and the coping mechanism used to not be hurt again; even at the risk of hurting those just like you- or those who used to be (cough cough the show runners saying that TCK represented the older men with bad intentions that every young gay man has met that welcomes them into the space and makes them feel loved to use them). The Cat King uses Edwin and Edwin knows this. That kiss from edwin was not a reciprocation of feelings; it was to say "I'm sorry your loneliness had caused you to think you have to use your power to control those weaker than you. (Naive, young, and someone he can literally trap) It's the easiest way to feel. And while I cannot and will not give you what you want or need, you deserve to feel happy and not like you have to gain attention of those uninterested to feel good enough.”
I just can't even explain all my thoughts about their dynamic it's just so much about the predation from older queers because of the trauma they've endured from their elders and the cycle of hurt and abuse that is passed down and the way we can break the cycle with kindness. The way we can protect our youths by healing those traumas.
Something the cat king learns and accepts because he can like Edwin. He can show Edwin the sweetness and beauty of being queer while also not being the one that should hold his hand through it. Edwin cannot be a romanticized replacement for the pain others have caused him and trying to force him to be so, continuing to treat him like prey to catch, will only continue the cycle.
tdlr: their relationship is super important for both of their relationships with queerness and trauma and becoming more aware of their identities but their relationship is not romantic- it’s simply an attempt to romanticize Edwin into someone he could love (hurt and control) in place of the people who’s actually hurt him and is supposed to be a parallel of real life predation in the queer community but the realization of this created an amazing acceptance and new bond I do hope they explore without TCK trying to force a non-platonic relationship
Off topic but I don't like people defending their age gap because, yes, Edwin is 86, but he died with a teenage boy brain and then spent 70 of those years in hell where he certainly was not getting his brain developed while TCK has possibly hundreds of years of sentience and experience. The power imbalance is not it y'all and that’s like super clear in the show
#dead boy detectives#edwin payne#Dbd#dbda#neil gaiman#the cat king#cat king#I’m not tagging their ship name I’m not trying to hate on people I simply don’t understand why anyone would ship them#dc comics
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I like to think that it takes a but before Wukong and DBK end up having a much needed conversation about Wukong's pregnancy and the reasons he'd kept it hidden. They didn't hold off on it until Revenge of the Spider Queen, but I don't think Wukong was exactly eager to talk about it.
I also think that Wukong ought to have had some hidden resentment not even he had been aware of at the fact his big brother, who definitely is the sort to swear he'd protect Wukong no matter what despite Wukong not needing it, hadn't been able to keep his promise when it came to Wukong's capture, torture, and imprisonment. Being thrown into a Furnace for nearly 50 years and then buried under a mountain for 500 more isn't exactly something you just 'get over', and that's just a small part of what Heaven had done to Wukong. Like... he doesn't blame DBK because there's no way he could have known... but also DBK had broken his promise to keep his baby brother safe and presumably the first interaction they had after Wukong was freed by the mountain was presumably DBK asking Wukong for help with his toddler son who was hurting himself with a power he could not control and Wukong was probably hurt by that. And he was definitely hurt by the fight they later had.
Basically, there's a lot of bad stuff that happened with the journey and the events that led up to it and I think Wukong was suppressing a lot of that trauma, and it came out in ways he didn't really notice. Part of that comes to a head during their first heart to heart when DBK is told why Wukong had kept the fact he was pregnant a secret. He still didn't know exactly how long he was pregnant, that it was indeed during the Journey and not something that came about after it, but he knows Wukong had been pregnant when he was sealed under the mountain and Wukong had knowingly kept that from him. The rest of that only came out while they were in the web, which onky served to infuriate DBK even more because he'd thought he'd HAD this conversation with Wukong already and he comes to find out that Wukong had kept even more from him.
Basically it be like,
DBK: Why are you being so secretive about this? A child is amazing!
Wukong: There's a reason I don't want this getting out, DBK! Could you imagine what would happen if work got out that the 'Great Sun Wukong' was pregnant and vulnerable!? What would the Jade Court do!? The thousands of enemies I've made over the years!? I'd be lucky if they didn't start lining up at my door to try to take advantage!
DBK: I would have protected you! You're my little brother, you could've have told me!
Wukong: Oh, like you protected me so well during the war when I got thrown in a Furnace and trapped under a mountain!
Silence, as Wukong realized what he said, and that he hadn't meant to say that aloud. He'd thought he'd gotten over that tbh.
Another thing to consider;
Wukong also missed out on 500 years of life back when he was captured. 500 years of being unable to make amends with his mate. 500 years unable to defend his people from the Fires and the hunters.
And DBK spent all that time free, married, getting invited to parties, and generally having a life while his younger brother rotted under that mountain.
From Wukong's perspective, DBK forgot about his little brother. And that def stirs up some resentment once the two reunite after DBK's release.
But the full truth is even uglier than that.
As Sun Wukong and DBK's arguing escalates, I can see DBK finally breaking down into tears.
DBK: "I wanted to save you xiandi! I truly did! Azure and the others claimed you a traitor but I Knew you would never surrender without cause!"
Wukong, angry tears: "Then why didn't you try freeing me from the Furnance?! Did you just sit around for all of those 49 days!?"
DBK, voice raising accidentally: "IF I DID THEY WERE GOING TO KILL TIESHAN!" *covers mouth in shock*
(The room goes silent. A long-held secret having just been revealed. As if the demon king had expended all his magic to break a verbal geas/spell that had tormented him for centuries)
Wukong: "...t-they? Who's they?"
DBK, shaking with tears and anger: "Many. Not just Heaven... if I moved to help or defend you in any way they'd... they threatened to... "take away what I had conquered". They treatened it long before you even surrendered to the Emperor."
Wukong: "Wh-who? Who would threaten that? Who knew you'd defend me even if I had surrendered-" *goes quiet at a realisation left unsaid* "No..."
DBK, eyes saddened: "Yes."
Wukong, now angry-crying: "But... why?!"
DBK, unsure himself: "I believe... some of them suspected that it wasn't truly Heaven we would have surrendered for. We are too much alike in many ways..."
Wukong, taking in a deep breath: "The Emperor he'd- He said he'd- I'm sorry..."
DBK: "I know he threatened to take Liu'er away from you. Anyone with a brain could deduce that."
Wukong: *nods mournfully*
DBK: *deep sigh* "I suppose I could have at least visited you... buddha knows Macaque did."
Wukong: "Wait, you know about that?"
DBK: "Of course! He visited your mountain nearly every year on the dot. Mostly to plant peach trees and sunflowers in the soil outside and pray for your swift release. Odds are he did not reveal himself due to your falling out- Xiandi are you ok!?"
Wukong, realising that Macaque still loved him even then: "NO!!!!"
I love emotionally tormenting these characters. >:3
#slow boiled stone egg au#sun wukong#lmk dbk#lmk demon bull king#lmk aus#jttw aus#lmk#lego monkie kid#journey the west#jttw#angst tw#shadowpeach
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What Emma Would Do
Ignore me. This is just me working through my own thoughts and feelings on this. Also I'm an idiot.
***BIG EDIT: I misread and misinterpreted. Azel was nearly drugged and SA'd, so his reaction, however cruel, makes complete sense to me. If he was real I couldn't apologize to him enough.
Moving @/caffedrine's billion-dollar comments up here.
My original, misguided post is below the cut if you're interested.
I have to ask myself what Emma would do. Within reason. And only within the scope of this fictional game, because I'm not about to touch this topic as it exists in the real world. That's for people much smarter than me.
But for the game, my dismissing of Azel as a cruel misogynist without seeing his circumstances and worldview shuts down the conversation the same way it does when Azel dismisses a woman as a slut without seeing her circumstances and worldview.
(Did he actually use the word 'slut' or did google just translate 痴女 like that for me... I should double-check... edit: oh my bad, he calls her a "female molester", which... I can't say he's wrong considering she tried to give him an aphrodisiac...? The word also means "stupid woman", so he could very well have meant it that way too, especially for some reasons I get into later in the post.)
Soooo, he didn't actually call her a slut. I'm an idiot 😌 I'm sorry, Azel. Dunno if any of my points below mean anything, but I'll leave it here anyway:
The running theme in Ikepri is to look beyond the beast and see the human inside. To meet them halfway. To see their heart. And that heart is always so very terribly scarred. All these guys have gone through their own traumas and come out the other end behaving in ways designed to be armor, to protect themselves from any further pain.
I can only speculate about Azel this early in his story arc, but being showered with the same adoration and reverence that people only show a god, day in and day out, probably fucks with your mentality a bit if you are still only human at the end of the day. Having women try to seduce you only because you're The Living God, well, we saw what that kind of shallow treatment did to Silvio. Women see you as an object and so women become objects to you. You want to be loved, but you don't want to be hurt.
That might only be scratching the surface with Azel, though. He's also clearly jaded from listening to the same old interpersonal problems people have when in relationships. Love is actual trash to him, not even worth a single penny. It's trash because the very people who follow him prove it to him on a daily basis, I imagine.
Yet that's still not the full picture. I mean, we obviously won't have the full picture until his main route drops, but there's another key factor to consider with Azel.
He quotes Pascal in Licht's sequel. "Man is only a reed, the weakest thing in nature; but he is a thinking reed." The full quote goes onto say:
"All our dignity consists, then, in thought. This is the basis on which we must raise ourselves, and not space and time, which we would not know how to fill. Let us make it our task, then, to think well: here is the principle of morality.”
(Did I read the entire context of the quote? HA! What do you take me for? A scholar or something?)
Free will and independent thought is arguably the most important thing to Azel. He has no respect for the sheep who flock to him for direction (though he'll happily take their money and tributes). Even with the dancer who tried to seduce him in the prologue, when he tells her to lick up the food she dropped after he tripped her, he presents it as a choice. Nevermind that the staggeringly unequal power dynamics at play made it so this was nothing short of coercion in the end; there was no way the dancer was in a position to stand up for herself and say no, even if that's exactly what Azel wanted. But from his perspective, defiance would have been welcome. That's why he phrased it as a choice. That she started licking up the food only solidified in Azel's mind that this woman is an unthinking reed without dignity. If you're going to act like trash, he'll treat you like trash... maybe that was part of his thinking.
On a slightly different note, I think another reason he hates the idea of love so much is because love makes people lose their ability to reason, to think. I believe he outright says as much, iirc.
In the end, I don't know from where exactly Azel's fury and cruelty comes from. It could be all of these things, it might be something else entirely. All I can think is, you can't be 'God' everyday and not be scarred by humans.
In conclusion, I can't excuse Azel's behavior. I don't excuse it. But I think Emma would try to understand the why of it, like she does in any other route. The other running theme in Ikepri is that, as a certain someone would put it, the essence of all people is love. It's their environment that twists them. Somewhere in Azel is the purest kind of love. A kind that would make any god look away in shame. That's what I want to believe in, anyhow.
Also, I need stress that I was SO wrong about whether he actually called the dancer a slut or not. Google fucked me over by translating it that way! Ah, Azel, I'm so sorry!
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Hiii spooky I how have you been enjoying season 2 so far? After seeing the characters being brought to life I’ve realised one thing and that is that Suguru is really hard for me to grasp and I don’t know how to portray him. On one hand he seems dark and brooding and serious but then he’s also goofy and deeply caring and he’s not ashamed to show it. He has lots of soft smile but then we see him smile like 😊 that when Riko manages to annoy him. He seems to have so many facets in a way that other characters just don’t…? and maybe in theory his behaviour and parts of his personality seem contradictory, but it doesn’t actually feel like it is?? because he doesn’t really put on any mask, at least his teen self doesn’t, and you can kinda tell what he’s feeling… he’s not as loud as Gojo, he doesn’t really express himself verbally, but to me he’s still more open than him. You can see his emotions on his face or in his body language because he doesn’t really try to hide them, whereas Gojo as loud and expressive as he is.. I often find myself struggling to tell what exactly he’s feeling.
I’ve also seen many people portray Geto as “nice and polite but that’s just for appearances and he’s actually bad and cruel” which feels like a pretty flat interpretation of him… I’m really struggling as you can tell I think I might be missing the point entirely lol I just wanted to know your thoughts on it.
Hello, anon! Thank you for the opportunity to talk about Geto! You are correct in that he's a far more nuanced character than a lot of people give him credit for. The popular fandom belief is that Geto was lying about his ideals all along, but I think it's the opposite. Rather than a liar, Geto's real problem is that he's true to himself to a fault. I'll address your ask and talk more about this under the cut.
Fandom Geto
I’ve also seen many people portray Geto as “nice and polite but that’s just for appearances and he’s actually bad and cruel” which feels like a pretty flat interpretation of him… I’m really struggling as you can tell I think I might be missing the point entirely lol
In my opinion the fandom in general tends to flatten Geto's character for two reasons, number one they want to make Geto look worse to make Gojo look better by comparison. The second and more relevant is that they want to otherize Geto because his beliefs are so extreme. That someone who can slaughter people on that large of a scale must have been cruel to begin with, a normal person, especially a good one isn't capable of that.
Which I think misses the point. Geto wasn't shown as someone with cruel tendencies to begin with, the entire hidden inventory arc showed how much it took him to be pushed off the edge like that, with factors like trauma, witnessing the deaths of sorcerers his age, and the jaded adults around him who made no real attempts to reach out to him and help him in time all contributing factors to his downfall.
"An endless cycle of exorcism and consumption. Exorcise. Consume. It's a taste that nobody knows. The taste of a curse. Like ingesting a rag used to wipe up vomit. Exorcise. Consume. For whom? Ever since that day... it's been running through my head."
What makes this monologue so effective is it summarizes a year of Geto constantly questioning himself as his mental state deteriorates. I do believe Geto always looked down on the weak, but he did it the same way that Gojo did. He separated himself in a different category from others, both Gojo and Geto believed that they were on the side of the "strong" and that put them above others. It's just on top of that Geto believed that standing above others came with the obligation to protect them, and that was the part that came into question.
However, if he believed weak people were "monkeys" from the start, if his desire to protect them was a false belief than he wouldn't have taken an entire year of spiraling before he snapped. The manga wouldn't put such intense focus on #1 Geto's internal world, and #2 Geto struggling with trying to figure out what his ideals and beliefs really are if he was just hiding a darker and crueler set of beliefs.
For example, we have Maki a character who five minutes after the death of Mai decides to massacre the entire Zen'in Clan even the members who had absolutely nothing to do with it, as opposed to Geto who wrestled with the idea of it for a year, and Maki doesn't get the same accusation from the fandom of being cruel and violent all along. Geto's a character of internal struggle. His righteous nature is what led him astray. Not because he was lying to himself, but because he was trying to find what the right thing to do was. It's just his idea of right and wrong got eschew because of the incredibly grey and myopic nature of the Jujutsu World.
Geto's True Feelings
He seems to have so many facets in a way that other characters just don’t…? and maybe in theory his behaviour and parts of his personality seem contradictory, but it doesn’t actually feel like it is?? because he doesn’t really put on any mask, at least his teen self doesn’t, and you can kinda tell what he’s feeling…
I agree with your assesment that Geto is a character that's true to himself rather than a character that's putting up a false front. Geto is a character that contradicts himself a lot, one example is pointed out to us by Gojo. That he justifies his slaughter of non-sorcers for a bigger goal of creating a world without curses, and yet Geto himself isn't strong enough to actually make that ideal a reality. There's basically no scenario where he could have won, like theoretically maybe Gojo could have done it, but killing every single human being was just impossible for Geto.
Which is where we get to the point that Geto is twisting logic around to justify himself and his slaughter of innocents, but at the same time the Jujutsu Kaisen light novel adaptation of JJK0 says this isn't a lie, but rather Geto's attempt to remain true to himself.
To live for the purpose of being yourself. And for that goal, Geto could only continue to pursue his twisted dream, drowning himself in a curse that lies in the gap between ideal and reality. This was the final confession of a man who could only choose to wrap himself, who had erased himself in pursuit of his goals.
The gap between ideal and reality is a pretty significant phrase for describing Geto, because part of what broke Geto is he sees the world as how it should be, rather than how it is. Geto's failure is in part a failure to adapt when he sees the darker side of the world after Riko's murder.
In my opinion the animated version of this scene is far better than that of the manga. In the anime it shows Geto staring at the crowd joyously celebrating Riko's death who are all complicit in it while he tries to list off reasons why they don't need to take vigilante justice out on the crowd, beause there are systems in place that will punish these people on their own.
Geto is trying desperately to convince himself that these people will see justice, because the world is a fair place. All the while Gojo just walks away, because Geto's answer "There's no meaning in that" is a good enough answer for him. Geto desperately needs to search for a reason and convince himself that what they're doing is the right thing, whereas Gojo doesn't really share Geto's habit of questioning the world around him.
This moment reminds me of a quote of Megumi's at the beginning of the manga "Karma doesn't happen on its own" he later goes on to describe how the justice system and jujustu sorcerers are systems set in place to try to make the world a fairer place. Geto wants to believe that too, even when he's shown direct evidence that Jujutsu Society isn't idealistic at all.
Which, Gojo doesn't really question the society around him until after Geto's defection. He doesn't see a problem because Gojo is the perfectly fit cog, he's born into this society and he's the best at what he does. I think one important thing is that Gojo is the chosen one of the Gojo clan one of the three major houses. The golden child. Whereas Geto who is someone just as gifted as Gojo for the most part, has non-sorcerer parents and therefore was born outside of their society. Which it makes sense why he'd have more of an outsider's point of view, whereas Gojo can accept these things for a long time because that's just how they are, he grew up with this.
Geto's not lying to himself about his beliefs, rather he witnesses the world is not as just as he thought it was, and then struggles between two really opposite beliefs. Which is something Yuki Tsukumo pointed out to him.
Yuki: Do you hate non-jujutsu sorcerers? Geto?
Geto: I don't know...I used to think Jujutsu Sorcerers existed to protect non-sorcerers, but recently I've been doubting whether or not non-sorcerers are worth fighting for... [insert monologue here] I don't know which are my true feelings.
Yuki: Neither is. You're not at that stage yet. Looking down on non-sorcerers, resisting that feeling...those are just possibilities you've tought of. Whatever your true feeling is, you still have to decide.
If Geto wanted to slaughter non-sorcerers from the beginning it wouldn't be a deliberation for him. He wouldn't be arguing himself and trying to justify himself for over a year. Geto is basically caught between ideals and reality. The ideal is that his work as a sorcerer to protect people is good and making the world a fairer place. He wants to believe that there is meaning behind his work, that he's doing the right thing. The reality he's faced with is the senseless slaughter of people like Haibara. The idea that he is just a cog in the machine that will continually sacrifice more and more sorcerers. That therefore their sacrifice is not making the world a better place, and not justified. He can't face the reality that he and his friends are expendable... and really, who can?
"If being a Jujutsu Sorcerer is like running a marathon... what if what's at the end of that road is a mountain of our fellow sorcerer's dead corpses?"
Ironically, it's Geto's search for the right thing that leads him astray. He becomes unable to see any point in the continual sacrifices the strong sorcerers have to make for what he views as the ungrateful weak non-sorcerers. I don't think he believed that from the beginning though, because as you pointed out above his interactions with both Kuroi and Riko who are non-sorcerers shows a lot of care for their emotions and well-being. If he never cared about non-sorcerers, than he wouldn't have reacted as badly to Riko's death as he did.
he doesn’t really put on any mask, at least his teen self doesn’t, and you can kinda tell what he’s feeling… he’s not as loud as Gojo, he doesn’t really express himself verbally, but to me he’s still more open than him. You can see his emotions on his face or in his body language because he doesn’t really try to hide them, whereas Gojo as loud and expressive as he is.. I often find myself struggling to tell what exactly he’s feeling.
Gojo and Geto are foils and inversions to one another, so I agree with what you stated that while Gojo is loud his true feelings tend to be more concealed whereas Geto for the most part makes his care and concern demonstrably known in the first few chapters of hidden inventory.
There's the famous "Geto and Gojo both make fun of Utahime for being weak in different ways" that a lot of people cite as evidence for the fact Geto looked down on weak people all along, but as I stated above his way of looking down on them is he saw them as a seperate category than himself a strong person. However, I don't think that means his attempts at taking care of Riko are insincere.
Gojo and Geto are both shown as looking out for Riko, Geto does it in more obvious ways and Goo does it in more subtle ways, but that just shows the difference in their personality. Gojo is rude and obnoxious on the surface, but thoughtful on the inside. Whereas Geto true to his nature makes an effort to be considerate and look out for people. One of the reasons I put the conversation between Gojo and Geto as the banner image for this post is because it shows Geto's naturally considerate personality, going out of his way to ask if he's okay. Geto is direct. There's a mirror scene to that later where Gojo notices Geto has lost weight, showing he does in fact get a grasp that something is wrong with Geto, but chooses an indirect approach of asking for it.
Geto goes out of his way to give Riko more free time and time to spend with her friends even though it makes the mission more inconvenient because he recognizes these are her last few days on earth. It's Geto who notices that Kuroi is essentially family to Riko.
When Kuroi is kidnapped, Geto is deeply troubled by his failure and blames himself. Geto shows his concern in a direct way being troubled by Kuroi's disappearance, whereas Gojo shows his concern in an indirect way, setting up a kind of sink-or-swim test for Riko where he tells her she can only come with if she's ready to face the fact that Kuroi might be dead and she can't back out halfway through. All as a test of her resolve. They both care and have different ways of showing it.
Gojo shows his concern for Riko by insisting they stay another day for her sake, and Geto only argues against it because he's worried Gojo is pushing himself too much with his use of the limitless. Geto's visibly happy to see both Gojo and Riko enjoying thmeselves and views the scene with a soft smile. He reassures Kuroi not to worry about letting herself get kindapped because they handled it just fine.
They both cared about Riko, they both agreed to help her quit the merger. Geto's desire to protect her is one hundred percent sincere, this is when he still believes in his ideal of protecting the weak, and he's following that ideal through. That's why his way of reassuring her is saying "we're the strongest" because that's how the world is supposed to work in his ideals. The strong protect the weak, and if you're the strongest you should have no trouble protecting others.
When both the world and Geto fail to live up to that promise that's where he begins to question himself. Which is where I want to get to one of the major differences between Gojo and Geto. All centering around Geto's final words.
"In a world like this, I couldn't be truly happy from the bottom of my heart..."
There's a scene someone pointed out to me in a twitter thread at the end of the Shibuya arc where Nanami contemplates retiring to Malaysia just as he dies doing his job and fighting against many cursed spirits and then is executed by Mahito. All because he chose to stay and fight until the last minute. At the end of the arc, we see Mei Mei fled the battle half way through and is now comfortably sitting in a hotel room in Malaysia. Mei Mei is someone who is implied to abuse her younger brother, whereas Nanami is someone who stated it's the duty of adult sorcerers to protect children and goes out of his way to do that for Yuji.
One of them lives because she is selfish, and even an abuser, the other dies. The first is the kind of person that benefits from the corruption of Jujutsu Society, the second is swallowed up from it.
The line Geto couldn't be truly happy from the bottom of his heart also refers to this fact, Geto just couldn't cope with the reality of Jujutsu Society because it's an increidbly myopic and cynical place where the people who get ahead are selfish people who simply don't care about others and frequently use and abuse others to get ahead, and the ones who get swallowed up are people with good intentions like Nanami. This is the world he can't cope with. He's fundamentally incompatible with Jujutsu Society and driven out of it because he wants to do the right thing, not because he was evil to begin with.
Whereas Gojo also sees Jujutsu Soceity as something rotten don't make any mistake, but he's also someone who is able to function in Jujutsu Society much better that Geto because he was born inside of it. Geto is driven out and Gojo seeks reform from the inside because he's like the ideal of jujutsu society, and he was born to be. He's selfish, and egotistical, and he's so strong he can bully the elders and throw his weight around. Of course Gojo doesn't really abuse his power, that's what makes him so interesting a character, he has all this power and for the most part uses it responsibly to exorcise curses for the good of society rather than abuse it for his own sake.
However, he can stay within that society because he's used to it, a lot of things about that society he accepted how they were for a long time until he saw the toll it took on Geto. Gojo is the ideal of Jujutsu Society, he's held up as the model sorcerer of the corrupted society so it takes him a long time to spot where that corruption is. When he does he also wants to do something about it like Geto does, but he takes it in a more measured way he's not driven out because he's intrinsically a part of that society.
Whereas for Geto he's just one hundred percent incompatible with Jujutsu Society as a whole, one because his idealistic nature just doesn't mix well with a dog-eat-dog cynical society where everyone is out for their own gain and people like Mei Mei climb to the top. Number two, Geto himself has a very uncompromising nature. He's sincere to a fault. He doesn't really deal well with moral greys. He can only exist in a black and white world where he has clearly defined goals of good and evil, he just sort of flips white for black, and black for white.
Thus Gojo is much better at coping with that society as a whole and trying to find a way to work inside the system, but also to begin with he's not someone who naturally questions things the same way that Geto does. In fact in general I would say another point of foiling between them is as you pointed out, Geto is someone far more true to himself not wearing any masks, whereas Gojo's loud personality is a mask. We are privy to Geto's thoughts and his internal world, we basically spend the entire hidden inventory arc inside of his head. Whereas with Gojo he is so distanced from his own emotions oftentimes the audience themselves don't get to see what they really feel and are left guessing. Even the people around Gojo aren't really aware of what his real feelings are, his students and all his coworkers basically just summarize him as "he's the strongest."
Geto basically drowns inside his own head trying to figure out what his true emotions are, whereas Gojo is someone so distanced from what he really feels he's completely alienated himself from the people around him. Hence why Shoko can say stuff like "damnit, I've been right here all along for eleven years idiot" while Gojo monologues about how alone he is in front of her.
Which is what really makes them such good character foils. It's not one is good, one is bad, one is a liar, one is telling the truth, they're actually just both idiots.
#suguru geto#geto suguru#gojo satoru#satoru gojo#jjk meta#jujutsu kaisen meta#jujutsu kaisen theory#jujutsu kaisen#metasks#jujutsu kaisen anime
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doctor pt. 4
pairing: namor x fem! reader
summary: after taking some time to yourself, you allow yourself to understand.
word count: 6,349
tw: mention of death/murder, mention of wounds and blood.
a/n: thanks for hanging in there and being patient with me, everyone. you’re all so so appreciated!!! here’s the final part :)
WEEKS CAME AND WEEKS WENT in Miami until about two months pass. You got up everyone morning, hopped on the train to work, worked until six or seven, took the train home, went to bed. Maybe you’d sprinkle in a work out or a lunch with a friend here and there, but nothing much changed. You hadn’t really spoken to your sister. And the team, well... there was no team, anymore. It was you and Dr. Mishra and Juliette, the secretary. The office was empty. Their empty chairs and cold coffee cups stared at you until you clocked out.
Every night before bed, without fail, you thought about Namor. That look on his face when he was just about ready to kill you. Then the look on his face when he had dropped to his knees, pleading for forgiveness. And then seeing Reynolds and Bernstein fall overboard. You’d squeeze your eyes shut and try and shut it all out until you’d eventually fall back asleep. Despite this, that jade-beaded bracelet never left your wrist.
You woke up in a sweat, your face pale from the horrors your mind had conjured and your skin cold and clammy from your thrashing and shivering. The trauma from the boat seemed to have followed you home to Miami.
The cuts had healed, the bruises, too, but the memories had not left. It was difficult to have Namor plaguing both your thoughts and your nightmares at the same time. There was a dissonance in your head, where in the day you’d dream of running back to that beach in Yucatán, and in the night you’d suffer the sight of him and his soldiers about to kill you.
You reached over towards your bedside table, picking up your phone and rolling over onto your side. There was a recent notification, it’s icon glowing green, that read Voicemail from Juliette. You let out a hmph and clicked it, pressing the speaker button so as to hear better.
“Hey Y/N, hope you’re doin’ okay,” came that sweet, swingy voice of your favorite secretary. “You’re insanely strong for still comin’ into work even after... well, after what happened. I’m calling to tell you to take a week off, all right? There ain’t no team for you to work with, but me and Mishra can hold down the fort for a bit, okay? You rest, visit your sister or something. You’re exerting yourself. Also, I’ve emailed you the number of my therapist. She’s great. Don’t be afraid to give me a call if you need anything, all right? I’ll see you in a week, okay? Don’t come to the office! Bye-bye.”
You huffed to yourself in frustration, slamming your phone down on the bed beside you. Visiting your sister sounded like a great idea, with the exception of being at such close proximity to Namor and his people. There would be no way to avoid the water of course, between your sister and her frequent strolls on the sand and your niece and her addiction to surfing.
Either way, you booked a flight for the next day. The entire flight down to Yucatán you wrestled with yourself, with your morality. Namor had killed people. Probably more in all his years of living, more than what you had witnessed. To forgive him was so forget those he had killed, even if they were horrible people like Bernstein or Reynolds.
But there was something about him that was magnetic. His brain, his loyalty, his pride of where in which he came. The regard to which he held his people, the passion to which he protected them. The way that he spoke, the eloquence of him, the complexity of his thoughts. He was cruel. He was beautiful.
“Oh god, you look like you’ve seen a ghost,” were your sister’s first words upon meeting you at the airport. You lugged your backpack off the plane, offering a weak but genuine smile at the sight of her face and sound of her voice. She hugged you tight, taking your bag from you. Touching a hand to your cheek, turning your face to examine you like your grandmother would, she remarked, “You’re pale as hell. What’d you do, kill somebody?”
You gave a weak chuckle. “I need a coffee.”
“You need more than just a coffee,” she said. “Let’s get you home. And get you a drink.”
The drive to your sister’s house from the airport was pleasant enough, the delicate voice of Lana Del Rey playing from her stereo and the soft morning light shining through the windows of the car. You stared at the horizon, just barely being able to see the blue ocean from where you were. You clenched your jaw and willed yourself to look away.
---
YOUR SISTER DECIDED IT WAS time for you to leave the house. She had dragged you out of bed to put on some nice clothes and then proceeded to pull you by the ear until you reached a local bar. Her husband was watching your niece, leaving the pair of you to your own devices for the night. You sat at the bar next to her, your classic Moscow Mule in your hand, zoning out to the unrecognizable music playing over the speakers.
“Noticia de última hora (Breaking news),” spoke the lady on the news, her formal dress on the small, pixelated television standing out from the high technicolor of the club. “La reina de Wakanda ha sido reportada muerta (The queen of Wakanda has been reported dead).”
Your head snapped up, eyes now glued to the television. Your sister was blissfully unaware, chit-chatting with the barista, who just so happened to be the mother of one of your niece’s girlfriends.
“La cause de la muerte: desconocido (The cause of death: unknown),” the reported continued. You took a large sip of your drink. “Princesa, ahora reina, Shuri aún no ha emitido una declaración. Esperamos ser informados sobre la situación pronto (Princess, now Queen, Shuri has yet to publish a statement. We hope to be informed about the situation soon).”
“That guy keeps looking at you,” your sister suddenly remarked, speaking loudly over the music. You flinched, ripping your eyes away from the television.
“Sorry?”
“That guy,” she lowered her voice and gestured with her chin to the man down the bar. “He’s been checking you out, tryna catch your eye.”
You glanced over to your right; sure enough, there was a man sitting five or six stools down from you, who, at the sight of you turning your head, quickly retracted his gaze.
You eyed him. Based on the sight of him, you estimated he was maybe six foot tall. He had dusty brown curls, with equally as bushy brows and a roman nose. Cute, you thought.
“You should talk to him,” your sister nudged your should. You sighed. You’d feel bad talking too much to this guy when your mind was still occupied on Namor. “C’mon, he keeps looking.”
“I dunno,” you ran a hand across your scalp. “We’ll see.”
“C’monnnn,” your sister dragged out. She picked up her drink and stood up. “I’m gonna go to the bathroom. I’m hoping you’ll be talking to him by the time I get back...”
And with that, she stood up and walked off, disappearing into the crowd. You rolled your eyes. Leave it to your sister to misinterpret your feelings and do something she thought would be good for you but might actually be horrible. You swirled your drink around, watching the vodka splashing against the sides of the class. She had good intentions, your sister, but you didn’t particularly feel like being alone with some--
“Hola,” came a soft-spoken voice from your right. You turned your head; it was the guy from down the bar, his eyes bright and his smile gentle. You blinked. “Uh... anyone sitting here?”
He gestured with his drink to the empty seat beside you. You shook your head no, bringing your cup to your lips to sip it as he sat down beside you. His voice held a slight accent, his voice wavering as if he were unsure whether or not to be speaking English to you as opposed to the Spanish that filled the club.
He twiddled his fingers on the glass of his drink, the condensation of what looked to be a rum and coke wetting his palms. He wiped his hands on a napkin and glanced at you.
“You’re not from here, right? I haven’t seen you,” he spoke, his voice deep and smooth like molasses. There was a charm to him, you had to admit.
“You’d be right,” you told him. “My sister lives here. I’m just visiting from Florida.”
“Ah,” he nodded his head. “My cousin lives in Key West.”
“Bit far from me. I’m from Miami,” you chuckled. His eyes widened. “Three hours from there.”
“Pedro,” he extended a hand. You took it, shaking it gingerly. Pedro smiled.
“Y/N.”
“Was that your sister, who you were just with?”
You nodded your head. “Yeah, she’s just running to the bathroom.”
“I know her,” he gave you a sheepish look. “I teach at the local elementary school. Her daughter’s in my class.”
It was your turn to have wide eyes and a smile. “No way! That’s amazing!”
“She’s a great student,” Pedro told you. “I feel like I can remember her mentioning her Tía once or twice...”
Your sister never quite came back from the bathroom. She shot you a text asking if it was all right for her to go right home, and you told her to do whatever she wanted. You continued to speak with Pedro, the conversation eventually straying from the topic of your niece and onto your work, and eventually onto your recent experience on the mining ship. Apparently, word had gotten out about you being one of the lone survivors.
Pedro offered to go for a walk on the beach to talk some more. Hesitant at first due to the water, you eventually agreed. It wasn’t like Namor was going to pop out of the water and reveal himself to you when someone else was with you. You exited the bar with Pedro after he oh-so-kindly paid for your drink, and with your sandals eventually coming off your feet and into your hands, your stride found the sand.
“That must have been pretty taxing, huh?” Pedro remarked when you told him the tale, leaving out the important detail of Namor and Talokan’s existence. “I can’t imagine going through that. You’re crazy strong.”
“All in a days work, I guess,” you shrugged, dragging your feet through the sand. You stopped, glancing off at the horizon, seeing the occasional tale of a dolphin in the far distance.
“Well, I feel bad for keeping you out too late,” Pedro checked his watch, shuffling in place a bit. “You’re a busy woman, I assume.”
“I am,” you smiled at him. “But it’s okay. Need a break every once in a while, y’know?”
“Damn straight,” Pedro nodded his head, running a hand through his dusty brown hair and glancing off at the horizon. He was standing pretty close to you, you noticed, and you weren’t sure whether or not to step back or not. “It was really great to meet you, Y/N.”
“You as well,” you told him honestly. You could sense him leaning towards you. “You’re a great listener.”
“You’re a great-- erm-- talker,” he said bashfully, covering his eyes for a second after saying that. “That was stupid, sorry.”
“It’s all right,” you chuckled. He laughed as well, his eyes glancing from eye to eye, and then to your lips for a prolonged moment, and then back to your eyes.
You couldn’t tell what you wanted, but even as he loomed closer and closer you figured you had less time to decide. By the time he was barely an inch from you, you figured you’d throw caution to the wind and go with it.
He pressed his lips onto your very gently, like he was nervous to do so, and while it was a great kiss, you almost flinched when you closed your eyes and only saw Namor. His great big ebony eyes, the feeling of the curve of his jaw on your palm, the aquiline slope of his nose. You felt your stomach turn, and you pulled away from him.
“I’m sorry,” you immediately said. Pedro’s eyes furrowed a bit, but he said nothing. “I... you’re really, really sweet, and... a great kisser...”
His lips twitched up in amusement.
“But I’m just not in a good place for this,” you told him honestly. “My last...erm... relationship ended on a weird note, and... I’m just not in the right place to be with anyone else. I didn’t mean to lead you on like this. I thought I’d be ready, but I... I’m really not. I’m sorry.”
“I get it,” Pedro gave a kind smile. “Thanks for being honest with me, at least. Weird note, huh?”
You breathed a chuckle. “Yeah. Super weird, super complicated.”
“I understand,” Pedro nodded his head. He reached into his pocket, grabbing a crumpled receipt from the bar and a small pen. He scribbled something down. “Look, I’m not telling you I’m gonna wait, but... if in a few weeks or so, you feel like you could be up to something, call me. If not, then it was just great to talk to you tonight.”
“You’re so nice,” you said sadly. “I’m sorry. I feel really bad.”
“Don’t,” Pedro insisted, handing you the receipt with his number on it. “Really. Take care of yourself, okay? You need a ride home?”
“No, that’s all right,” you shook your head. “I’m down that way. I’ll walk.”
“All right,” he smiled. “I’ll see you around, okay? I’ll tell your niece I met her legendary Tía.”
Pedro left, the only sign of his presence being the size-ten footprints painting the trail to where he went off to, and the lingering feeling of his lips on yours. You wiped at your mouth, feeling guilty, and squeezed your eyes shut momentarily. You needed to think.
The waves crashed behind you as you walked up to the waters edge, your bare feet pressed into the damp sand. The water didn’t quite run over your toes, rather it teetered right in front of them like it was nervous to touch you. You sighed, strolling along it down the beach towards the rocks, dragging your feet in the sand. Each step you took, the water didn’t touch you; it kept creeping next to your steps, hesitant, apprehensive.
You paused at some point, shifting your gaze onto where the water waited in front of you. Lips curving down, you sat down on the sand, your knees pressed together, and put your hands over your face. You didn’t think you would cry, but when you pulled your hands off, your palms were wet with salty tears. So were your cheeks.
Wiping at your face, the beads of your jade bracelet brushed against your jawline. You stared down at it, the beautiful weave-work, the intricate design on each jade bead. Fiddling with it, you stared off at the dark horizon, the moon’s pale light reflecting off of the sea as you felt more tears run down your face.
What was there to do? Each choice felt wrong; to call him, to forgive him for all he’s done and let him embrace you made you feel guilty. Hugging and kissing the man responsible for too many deaths to count. But leaving-- abandoning him, would crush you too much. It was all too much.
“Oh, hell,” you muttered under your breath, shimmying the jade bracelet off of your wrist and holding it up in front of you. Pursing your lips to choke back any more tears, you wiped at your face before drawing your arm as far back as it could go before launching the bracelet into the ocean.
It soared through the night sky, going surprisingly further than you had imagined, and as you watched it plummet towards the water, your heart clench. What had you done? That had been Namor’s mothers! You shot up to your feet, but before the bracelet had disappeared into the blue, a hand shot up out of the water. You froze.
The golden cuff on the hands wrist glimmered under the moonlight, the jade bracelet trapped under the strong fingers. Slowly, an arm followed the hand, followed by a head right next to it. Namor rose out of the sea, water rolling down his shoulders and chest, his brown hair turned black by the water dripping over his forehead.
Unlike usual, he wasn’t wearing his typically adornments; his neckline was void of the golden chest plate, and aside from the small golden cuffs on his wrists, all he wore was the green shorts he always wore. It was like he had suddenly gotten out of bed and fled to the surface without getting dressed.
You stared at him as he waded through the water towards you, the bracelet still in his hand. His face was downcast, bags under his ebony eyes and a frown on his lips. He walked up until he was right in front of you, your feet on the dry sand and his in the water.
Opening up his palm and staring down at the bracelet that laid there, he sighed and said, “Doctor, I hope you didn’t mean to do that.”
“I didn’t,” you said quietly, so soft he almost didn’t hear you. “Well, I did, but... I didn’t. I didn’t. I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry,” Namor told you carefully, his voice steady. You blinked at him, frowning, unsure what to say. He stared at the bracelet for a moment, before holding a free hand out to grab your wrist. His eyes shifted up to you for consent to touch you.
You lifted your hand out, and his calloused hands grabbed onto your wrist to slip the bracelet back over your wrist. You got deja vu to the night you first left him, when he gave you the bracelet in the first place. His hands never left your wrist then, and they didn’t now, simply holding onto it.
“Who... who were you with, just now?” he asked in an attempt to be subtle but failing miserably. You couldn’t help but smile a little. You shook your head.
“No one,” you told him honestly, not meeting his eyes.
“You kissed,” he muttered. You narrowed your eyes.
“So you’ve been watching me?”
Namor rolled his eyes, shaking his head and not meeting your eyes but never verbally denying your statement. His fingers fiddling with the string of the bracelet, not daring to look at your face. The brown-black hair on his head had begun to dry, swooping delicately above his brows.
You glanced down to his cheek, your own brows twitching in confusion. Three long cuts drew down the length of his right cheek. A scar had formed overtop of them, and they looked like they had been cleaned up and stitched real nice, but they were so red that you were sure they still hurt. You lifted a hand, as if to touch his face to examine them, but you dropped your head and leaned back, catching yourself in the act.
“What... what happened?” you asked him, staring at the cuts. He lowered his head, bringing the pads of his fingers up to graze over the three scratches. Namor said nothing, just bringing his eyes back up to meet yours, ebony irises trailing across yours. You forced yourself to break the eye contact and look at the cuts again; it was like they were claw marks. “Can you tell me?”
Namor opened his mouth, about to speak, but closed his lips and swallowed his words. You narrowed your brows at him.
“What did you--”
“Come with me,” he extended his hand suddenly. You blinked, glancing down at it.
“Sorry?”
“Please come with me,” he rephrased. You stared at his hand, at his calloused fingers and bronze skin. “I would like to show you something.”
“Tell me what happened first,” you took a step away from him, eyeing him carefully. He sighed, and in his silence, you glanced down to the wings at his feet only to see that on his left ankle, only one wing remained. In the place of where the other one once was a bright red cut that had been poorly stitched. His entire ankle was bruised. “Oh my gosh, your... your...”
“Talokan went to war,” Namor said bitterly. “Against Wakanda.”
You breathed a curse, only biting at the inside of your cheek. Your mind wandered back to the news report about Queen Ramonda’s death. You met his eyes and gave him a look, your heart sinking.
“You... you didn’t...?” you gulped, staring at him. His brows twitched upwards, his lips curving into a frown. “You didn’t. Please tell me you didn’t.”
“I had to,” he shook his head. “It was my people that were on the line.”
“You didn’t have to do anything,” you pointed a finger at him. “She had a daughter. You killed her mother. Can you even imagine what she’s going through?”
“I can,” Namor told you firmly, stepping forward. “And I have.”
You said nothing, just frowning at him. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, gathering himself, before he looked back down at you.
“And that is why I need to show you this,” he put out his hand for you to grab again. “I need you to see where I am coming from.”
“Where are you taking me?” you glanced at his hand, meeting his eyes for a moment before sighing and taking it. You hand folded into his, your heart twisting at his touch.
“Talokan.”
---
THE JOURNEY INTO THE DEPTHS of the ocean was like nothing you had seen before. Namor had taken something out of his pocket, one of those devices you saw his soldiers wearing over their mouth and noses. You had barely held onto your consciousness as he swam you down there, and it wasn’t until you reached some kind of half-above half-below water area that you felt fully awake.
“Much ch'aik u ba'al u nook' síis yéetel jump'éel tin taasaj (Please grab her some fresh clothes and a suit),” you heard Namor speak. Your eyes fluttered open, and he had taken the device off of your nose and mouth. Your head was in his lap, you realized. “Níib óolal (Thank you).”
You blinked a few times to wake yourself up; glancing about you, you saw the color of the blue water reflecting off of the white stalactites and stalagmites around the cave, making everything appear to be shades of blue. You groaned, your head pounding as you tried to sit yourself up. Namor’s head snapped down to you.
“Oh, you’re awake,” he said, steadying you and helping you as you sat up. He had a small smile on his face as you glanced around, feeling discombobulated. He glanced over to his right, where a woman with blue skin stood. “Wa pudieras Mach ti' ba'al u jantej... jump'íit ja'...(If you could grab her something to eat... some water...).”
The woman immediately disappeared into some other room behind her. You blinked at Namor after watching the woman walk away. Clearing your throat, you croaked, “Is this Talokan?”
Namor chuckled. “No. This is a half-way point, so to speak. I have to get you in a suit. And out of these wet clothes.”
He lifted up your soaking wet sleeve before lifting his head and glancing elsewhere. You glanced down at yourself, realizing that your white shirt was soaking wet and entirely see-through. You felt your face get hot as you wrapped your arms around yourself, but you felt less uncomfortable then you would’ve though; Namor was purposefully not looking, his ears slightly red, glancing over at where the woman had disappeared. You saw the wings on his ankles flutter.
“Waye', K’uk’ulkan (Here, K’uk’ulkan),” in came another woman, carrying what looked like some kind of dress, as well as one of those little devices to go over your nose and mouth. Namor gave the woman a nod of his head in thanks, and, helping up to your feet, took the dress from her to hand to you.
“You may change into this,” he told you. You took it from you, the linen and cloth soft against your cold skin. You blinked at him. He blinked back.
“Not here,” you told him pointedly. “Where can I...?”
His lips curled up and he chuckled before pointing to a small room behind you. You went in and changed, stripping the wet clothes and shivering before you draped the dress over you.
It warmed you up quick, but without a mirror you had no way of telling if it was on the right way, so you assumed it would be fine. You emerged from the small room, and Namor smiled at the sight of you.
“Suits you,” was all he said, biting the inside of his cheek as if to stop himself from smiling to wide at the sight of you in Talokan’s dress. “Let’s get you into a suit, then.”
“What for?” you asked, following him as the pair of you ventured further into the cave. “I thought I could just wear that thing over my face.”
“Oh, no,” Namor shook his head. “You are human. The pressure of the ocean would crush every bone in your body. Even my considerable strength couldn’t save you from it.”
“You know,” you gulped. “You’re not really selling this underwater-city thing.”
“The suit will keep you safe,” he reassured you with a joking smile, opening up a rather large closet and pulling out a type of diving-suit. “Step in.”
The suit felt bulky and uncomfortable, but you were the knowledge that it would keep you safe so deep in the water had pacified your anxieties. Practically waddling behind him, the pair of you dove into the water, and he lead you to a stream of rushing water.
“In you go,” he said, nudging you so you were in it. Without warning, the water pushed you at top speed into the depths. You yelped, but glancing behind you and seeing him laugh at you made you a little less worried. It was still equally as terrifying.
The deep ocean was darker than you thought it would be, and at some point you couldn’t even see your hands in front of you. It wasn’t until the stream fell off that you realized there was a light coming from your suit, helping you see. Namor came to your side and guided you further across the sand.
A giant whale bellowed above you, making you flinch and jump inside the suit. Namor laughed at you as it swam by, waving to the three Talokanil that were holding into its fins. Your jaw was permanently agape, and Namor took you by the arm and pulled you towards Talokan.
It was like nothing you had ever seen before. It was reminiscent of all of the ancient mesoamerican artifacts you had seen in Yucatán, but entirely its own type of architecture and energy. It was practically dipped in vibranium, every building and structure shining under a source of light you hadn’t found yet.
Kids played with balls, women and their babies waved hello, others were farming further down below. Upon seeing Namor, those nearby bowed their heads and opened their palms to him, just as they had on the mining ship. Namor, always, greeting them back. Some stared at you like you were a ghost.
A child swam up to you, curious. She looked young, maybe four years old at most. She greeted Namor, to which he greeted her back with a grin, before she turned to you and tapped on the glass of your suit. You giggled at her, and she clung onto your arm, swinging from it.
Someone called out from the distance, and the girl only giggled more before letting her grasp on you go. She waved goodbye and swam away, laughing the entire way. You watched who you assume to be her mother, grab her by the waist and lift her, spinning her around with a grin. This place was beautiful, you thought. These people were beautiful.
You glanced at Namor; he was already staring at you, a smitten smile on his face. He didn’t look away until he gestured you to follow him again. You did so without hesitation.
Glancing off into the distance, was the sun. Well, maybe not the real sun, but it was almost as bright as it, and hung in the air as if it were setting.
“Woah,” you breathed out loud, staring at in wonder.
“It is called the Sastun. We use it for our rituals. In the depths of the ocean,” Namor said, staring at it as if it were the first time. “I brought the sun to my people.”
You turned to him, amazed. This was all his, you thought. He was in charge of protecting this entire nation. Your heart was churning in your chest, not just at the sight of him, but at the sight of all he had built here. You felt like crying.
“Do you see?” he asked you, breaking the silence and turning to face you. “You must know that I do not... kill... because I am cruel. Or for sport. I do it because I am willing to do anything for them. For this, I would kill a thousand vibranium-hunting scientists, if it meant keeping them from finding us.”
You only stared at him. The knowledge that he has killed never sat well with you. But, guiltily, you understood. This was his home. These were his people. It was his duty to protect them. You got it.
“Come,” he said after a very long pregnant pause. “Let’s get you out of that thing.”
---
EVENTUALLY, THE PAIR OF YOU MADE your way back up to the cave where you could survive without the suit or the device over your nose and mouth. Your clothes, to your amazement, were perfectly dry when you took the suit off. Wiping off the water that had dripped onto you from the taking off the suit process, Namor lead you into a room that was an offset of the main one that you had woken up in.
On the walls were beautifully painted murals, depicting what you assumed was the history of Talokan and it’s people. You stared at them, strolling about the room; Namor stood at the doorway, staring at you as you stared at the paintings. One was of a woman holding a child with winged ankles; you assumed it was Namor’s mother. One was of the Black Panther-- showing the battle you assumed he fought recently.
On the table, however, was a canvas. Around it and on the floor were crushed balls of papyrus, covering in smudged charcoal and ink. Namor hastened forward and grabbed the canvas off of the desk before you could see what was on it, and slid it into the drawer.
“What was that?” you asked. Namor shook his head.
“Unimportant,” he told you, very obviously lying. “Just... sketches.”
“Hm,” you squinted at him before sitting down on the chair. “These are beautiful.”
“Thank you,” he said earnestly, gazing up at them. He ran his hand over the one of the woman and her infant, his fingers tracing the face of the woman.
“Is that your mother?”
“It is,” Namor sighed. “I told you before that I could understand what the Princess was going through, and I was telling the truth. My mother wasn’t killed, no, but my people were. My mother and her village were driven from their maize farms by Spanish conquistadors who brought smallpox, hateful language, and dogma from another world.”
He dropped his hand from the mural, turning around to face you. He pulled up the other chair to sit across from you, sighing again and continuing.
“Facing starvation, war and disease my people turned to Chaac. Our god of rain and abundance. My mother was pregnant with me at the time. She did not want to ingest the plant, for fear of what it may do to me. But the Shaman was convincing. The plant took away their ability to breathe air, but it enabled them to draw oxygen from the sea.
“My people settled in the ocean, away from the war and were cured of their diseases. My mother gave birth to me here, and I became the first born son of Talokan. I was different from other Talokanil. A mutant. I looked different. I was small in size. A runt. But I could breathe the air our ancestors breathed.
“I could swim in the sky and aged slower. As she grew older, my mother mourned the life on land that she once knew and died with a broken heart. My mother made me promise to bury her in the soil of her homeland. But nothing could prepare me for what I would find.“
“What happened?” you asked, however you had an inclining that you knew exactly what he was going to say.
“Terror,” he told you, a grave expression on his face. “My people. Enslaved. By the Spanish.”
You swallowed. You knew it. You studied this in school, how the Spanish “explored” and conquered areas in Mexico and Florida. The look on Namor’s face made you want to cry.
“A Spanish man of faith cursed me as he died by my hand,” he continued, shaking his head. “Called me el niño sin amor.”
“Child without love,” you translated.
“And I took my name from that. Namor. Because I have no love for the surface world,” he grabbed a type of cape off of the back of his chair and draped it over his shoulders, fiddling with the cloth. “Upon returning, I was made King, recognized as K’uk’ulkan, and Talokan grew under my rule.”
“I’m sorry you went through that,” was all you could say. “That’s... I just...”
You could feel your chest churning, your eyes welling up. You were embarrassed of the level of your empathy, how much you cared; you hadn’t realized he meant so much to you, not fully. Hearing his pain, the struggle of his people, it was like living it. He frowned.
“I’m sorry,” you covered up your face. “I don’t mean to... I’m just--”
“Don’t apologize,” he moved his chair forward, gingerly removing your hands from your face and holding them in his own. “Please don’t. It warms me to see that you understand the gravity of the situation I am in.”
“I don’t think it was right of you to kill Queen Ramonda,” you told him, sniffling. “But I... I guess I...”
“I don’t think it was right of me either,” he admitted. “I think it ruined any chances of Talokan becoming peaceful allies with Wakanda. We are allies, now... but... it is not how I would’ve hoped.”
“I get that,” you told him, relishing in the feeling of his thumbs absentmindedly rubbing circles across your knuckles. There was a long silence. You were relishing in the warmth of him, his closeness. It had only been two months since you saw him last, on the boat, but even that, you realized, was too long.
“I must get you home, now,” Namor told you finally, a slight frown on his face, his eyes knowing. You gazed at him, your teary eyes unable to do anything else. He was right, you knew that; your sister was no doubt hysterical. But you couldn’t find it in you to move. “Unless, you... well...”
“What?” you tilted your head to the side.
“You could stay,” he shrugged. Your lips curled up. “Here. It’s safe, there’s plenty of food and water... many of my people stay up here. We could find a way for you to go down to Talokan without the bulky suit, and--”
“Slow down,” you breathed pleasantly, leaning forward and cupping a hand to his cheek. He shut up instantly, leaning into your hand. “I have a job. And a sister. I... I can’t just...”
“I know,” he heaved a sigh. “Worth a shot, no?”
“I can’t live here,” you told him. “But for the night... well...?”
Namor suddenly grinned, wider than you had ever seen him grin before. The apples of his cheeks had turned a berry color, the corners of his eyes crinkling. Leaning towards you, he pressed his lips onto yours. You could feel his smile through the kiss, and you couldn’t help but smile yourself as his hands cupped at the sides of your cheeks.
He led you to stand, getting to his feet as well, and pulled you flush against him. You breathed him in, finding it hard to smile as your lips moved against his. The pair of you wandered backwards towards the far wall that was empty of the mural.
Your back hit the wall, and you giggled against his lips as he moved to you two were practically chest to chest. Namor grinned too, pulling away from a second, both hands still on either sides of your cheeks, and he stared at you for a second.
“Nib óolal, Chaac, tuméen taasik teen ti' leti',” he mumbled to himself, kissing your lips again before kissing your cheekbones, your forehead, your nose, your neck.
“What’s-- that-- mean?” you asked, struggling o speak because he kept kissing you and interrupting.
“Nothing,” he grinned cheekily. You narrowed your eyes.
“C’mon,” you nudged him. He shook his head.
“You’ll find out later,” Namor told you, rubbing a thumb across your cheekbone.
“Promise?” you lifted up a pinky. He furrowed his eyes, staring at it. You giggled and peeled his free hand off of you, linking pinkies with him. “Pinky-promise.”
“That is ridiculous,” Namor declared. “Yes, I promise. I don’t understand this pinky-thing.”
You rolled your eyes and kissed him again.
---
translation:
“Nib óolal, Chaac, tuméen taasik teen ti' leti'.” -- Thank you, Chaac, for bringing me to her.
taglist:
@childishnewt @criesinlies @fairydxll @cassiestars777 @chaoticevilbakugo @blue-chup @qirsupply @artsynellyyy @vlamley @lovenewfandoms @lulu-83 @seraphimcollections @kingtwhiddleston @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @tian-monique @kentucky-criedfricken @takeyour-pants-off @this--is--music @queenmeraairam @katsukiswrld @lokidbadguy @cherrywinepoison @maah-sama @reallysparklychaos @agustdboyoongie @jurneesjourney @mik-bxrnes @i-reblog-fics-i-like @mcximvffs @kaqua @xlucyintheskywithdiamondsx @eichenhouseproperty @aliyahsomerhalder @justkay2 @only-his3 @deadlydahlias @lunamoonbby @yoshiiib0 @writers-hes @lansy-4 @rhymingtree @xxmilli
a/n: having wakanda forever on disney plus has seriously fueled my fire. thank god we got these high quality gifs now cuz my guy looks stunning
#Tenoch Huerta#namor fanfiction#namor#namor fanfic#namor x reader#namor x you#namor x yn#namor of talokan#talokan#mcu#marvel#marvel cinematic universe#wakanda forever#black panther#Black Panther 2#marvel fanfic#marvel fanfiction#attuma#namora#k'uk'ulkan x reader#k'uk'ulkan#K'uk'ulkan of talokan
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new family [Leon Kennedy x Reader]
hello, take a quick attempt to write Papa!Leon! I don’t want kids myself but it was nice to indulge. Enjoy! If you want to read more Papa!Leon content, I’d suggest looking into @cilantro24 ‘s work!
Rating: T (16+)
Content Warning(s): brief implication of sex/nudity (not directly stated though), mentions of pregnancy and childbirth
Word Count: 933
---
Leon never planned on having kids, well, maybe he did once as a bright-eyed young man before Raccoon City. Perhaps with his ex-girlfriend, whom broke up with him the day before that fateful night; when his life changed forever. In fact, he never considered starting a family after that night. However, it seemed that fate, his enemy, had other plans for him.
He never intended to get married, the thought of placing the burden of his trauma on someone else had always bothered him. There were women in his life that he was interested in, perhaps even loved, but his fear of commitment kept him away. Leon had always kept things at an arm’s length, away from his heart, in a desperate attempt to protect himself.
That all changed when he met you. A beautiful, perfect woman, with eyes that caught him in his tracks. Never did he believe in love at first sight, as a jaded man, but something about you transformed his horrific life into a fairytale. Carnage had turned into bouquets of flowers, and late-night dates.
Finally, for the first time in over half a decade, he had let someone in. You were his rock, and he was yours. A balance that Leon couldn’t even have dreamed about, frankly, something that he would’ve never fathomed.
Then there was you, dressed in angelic white, down the aisle. Your glossy lips were wide on her face, as he took your hands in his own. Your vows were short and sweet, Leon admitted he wasn’t a man of many words, but he meant everything as soon as he slid the golden band on your finger.
Your honeymoon was beyond splendid, in a secluded cabin in the mountains, far away from any possible zombies or government orders. Skinny dipping in a hot tub, sharing a bottle of expensive whiskey, after opening all of your wedding gifts. The agent’s mouth was hot on your neck, as he groaned your new name into your skin, “Mrs. Kennedy.”
It was agony to part with you for work, as soon as you two returned to DC, as official newlyweds. The weeks were terribly long as Leon spent hours upon hours away from his wife, although he had been yours for over two years. His lips pressed against your forehead as he departed for the White House, which led him off to another mission, away from home.
He dropped his duffel bags as he stepped through the front door, his dirty blonde hair was almost brown with all the grease and dirt that had accumulated. Exhausted blue eyes scanned the dim living room, trying to spot your figure, as he called out your name.
Silence.
Leon furrowed his eyebrows, looking down at his watch, it was barely past nine; you shouldn’t be asleep yet. Cautiously, he walked down the hallway, and turned the corner into the master bedroom. You were kneeling on the queen-sized mattress, holding an odd object in one hand, as the other one was scrunched up in your hair.
“Sweetheart, what are you doing in the dark?” He asked, clicking on the lights, brightening the room.
You jumped, and spun around to look at your husband. “You’re home.” The statement sounded more like a question as you threw your hands around your back. “Why didn’t you text me?”
Leon smiled, uneasily. “I did.”
Your mouth fell agape slightly as you reached for your cellphone, flipping it open, and looking at the message. Your expression fell as you realized that he did, indeed, texted you. Roughly thirty minutes ago, as soon as he landed back in the states.
“Oh,” you sounded embarrassed, “I was busy.”
Your husband chuckled as he sat on the bed beside you, the box springs squeaking in protest at the sudden weight. “What are you hiding?” He asked, pressing a chaste peck to your cheek.
You bit your lip, and looked away. “It’s, something.”
Leon’s dark eyebrows quirked upward, noticing your anxious fidgeting. “Oh? What is it?” He questioned gently.
You exhaled deeply, shoulders visibly lowering before you took another inhale. After gathering your senses, you looked at your lover, looking into his bold cobalt blue eyes. You swallowed, squeezing your eyes shut as you shoved the pink object into his hands.
“I’m pregnant.”
---
Nine months flew by before Leon had known it, a tiny, bundle of human cooed in his arms. He smiled at his newborn, who looked up at him with curious, sapphire eyes. “Look at you, so small.” The blonde used one of his fingers to tickle the infant’s nose, who squealed with laughter. “Take after your daddy, don’t you?”
“He certainly does,” you responded, tiredly from the hospital bed. “He is a spitting image of you.”
Leon looked at you with glee, genuine joy lighting across his face. “He has your hair and lips!” Your husband pointed out, lowering your son so you could see.
This made you laugh, shaking your head. “I know what our son looks like Leon, I gave birth to him five hours ago.”
The agent brought the baby back closer to his chest, and let out a deep hum. “You did amazing, I would’ve never seen myself here if it wasn’t for you.” He leaned over and pressed his lips to your temple. “You’ve made me into a husband and a father.”
You snorted, leaning back onto your mountain of pillows. “You played at least fifty percent into that.”
Leon smirked, bouncing the infant in his arms, starting to rock him to sleep. “I don’t regret it.”
You smiled back at him, giggling softly. “Neither do I.”
#resident evil#leon s kennedy#leon kennedy x reader#leon s kennedy x reader#leon kennedy fluff#papa!leon#leon kennedy happy for once#it's rare#but it happens
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Hijo de Satanás: Part I ♱
Warnings: Dead Dove/Do Not Eat, Bisexual Dom!Namor, Possessiveness, Power Dynamic, Choking, Praise K!nk, Trauma, Insecurity, etc.
Author's Note: This is my deep dive into Dark!Namor territory. I made him the egotistical bastard he was meant to be. Such is the nature of a God. Enjoy!
♱
Ch'ah Toh Almehen. K'uk'ulkan. Namor. All 3 of these names have special meanings to him. The first was given to him by his dear mother, Fen. The 2nd was given to him by the close-knit people of Talokan. He created the 3rd after a Spanish priest cursed him before dying. There was one name that lingered in his psyche--Hijo de Satanás. He wasn’t oblivious to the darkness that lived inside him.
Although he was a beloved leader, his ruthlessness when provoked was an open secret. He didn't take kindly to being challenged. The horrors he witnessed were inconceivable. A hardened exterior formed around the winged god. When he buried his mother on the surface world, he took the lives of Spanish conquistadors with him as payback. More recently, he destroyed a military helicopter, killing both passengers. Talokan has been forced to relocate many times due to the advancement of ocean exploration & colonization. He was willing to do anything for his nation.
On a personal level, Namor made it clear that he didn't follow the scrupulous requirements of the surface world. There wasn’t anything he wouldn’t try. His sexuality was fluid. Sexual escapades with men & women (or both at once) were commonplace. As disreputable as it was, he got off on being worshipped & being able to pleasure the people of his kingdom. There was little he could do wrong in their eyes. They weren’t judgmental like the people of the surface world.
---
Life as Talokanil nobility was glorious. You worked as a scientific advisor. You conversed with him every day and kept him company as he painted gorgeous murals in his temple. He’d even let you paint with him. He was wise. He was loving. He was available. He became a dear confidant of yours. As time went on, he became more & more protective of you. Your time with other nobles dwindled. His flirtations became more obvious. You felt yourself falling for him but kept it friendly as you wanted to avoid any conflict of interest.
While discussing volcanic activity with a fellow nobleman, you saw Namor sit on his jade-embellished throne in the corner of your eye. His energy was off. You could feel his gaze burning holes in the side of your head. The nobleman took your hand in his, earning a sweet smile from you. You kissed him on the cheek, which made him blush. Namor slammed his spear into the mantle. It sent a shockwave through the surrounding water. Your coquetry was swiftly interrupted. The nobleman quickly gave his regards & swam away. Before you knew it, the enraged god returned to his cave.
As you arrived at his cave, waves of uneasiness washed over you. You wondered why he had free reign over any warm body in Talokan, but you had to play psychotherapist to him. You didn't mind the rapport that existed between you two, but the over-protectiveness was confusing. Your thoughts were interrupted by Namor surfacing from the reef below. You greeted him while he remained silent. Your face got red hot as he changed into dry clothes. His body was amazing. He looked at you with fire in his eyes & broke the silence:
“Ko'oten aca./Come here.” He said in a near-whisper.
You walked to him and looked down to avoid his stare. He gently lifted your chin. You resigned yourself to whatever punishment was coming. You decided to apologize to allay the severity of what was to come.
“K'uk'ulkan, I am deeply sorry for my actions. It won’t happen again. Sa'asik in, Béet/Please forgive me.” You fretted.
He brushed his thumb against your lips. Testing the waters, you kissed it gently. He didn’t budge. You moved his hand to your throat, feeling him tighten his grip. His thumb brushed against your bottom lip. He then pulled you closer and you thought he would snap your neck.
“Such a tease. K'abéet a disciplina/You need discipline.” Namor sneered.
“Ts'áaten…Teene' je'el in/Give it to me. I can take it.” You cooed.
It took everything in him to not rip your gown off & fuck you to a sobbing mess. He never met anyone who was bold enough to challenge him the way you did. If he was honest with himself, it turned him on. He was going to put you in your place like he did so many others, but it wasn’t time yet. He needed to catch you when you least expected it. Such is the nature of a god.
“You are dismissed. Return to your room.” He said, a frigid attitude taking over him. He let go of you and turned away. You were deeply embarrassed. Tears threatened to fall from your eyes. You scurried away to your quarters.
---
Later that night, you couldn’t sleep for obvious reasons. You decided to walk aimlessly around the cave to tire yourself out. Strange noises from Namor’s room broke you out your trance. As dangerous as it was, you decided to investigate. You heard the moans of 3 people as you moved closer. You peeked through the portiere and your eyes widened. A Talokanil commoner was writhing in pleasure as Namor thrusted into her at a vigorous pace. Another commoner kissed his shoulder while Namor pumped his manhood furiously. Namor didn’t even look winded. You heard the male commoner sing Namor’s praises.
“Yes, K'uk'ulkan. Only you can satisfy me like this.” He cooed. Namor then leaned over and kissed him roughly. Your jaw dropped. You could’ve screamed out of amazement, but you didn’t risk it. Gossip of nightly rendezvous at the palace was swirling around, but now you had confirmation. You can’t deny that you dreamt of being in the positions of those commoners. From the looks of it, it was better than you imagined.
To be continued…
#namor#k’uk’ulkan#ch'ah toh almehen#namor x reader#namor imagine#namor smut#my writing#fanfiction#namor fanfiction#talokan#marvel#mcu#tenoch huerta#wakanda forever#namor of talokan
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I feel like the true cruelty of the lan sect is a really overlooked topic in the mdzs fandom, because when you think about it...
they practically forced madam lan into marriage so she wouldn't be executed because she killed one of her teachers, but gave her no trial or chance to explain why, and once she was married they simply locked her away and that was that. qingheng-jun then locked himself into seclusion once he had a kid and that was that, had no business with the rest of the sect and left xichen and wangji to grow up alone.
not to mention the fact that wangji even being born is suspicious... xichens conception makes sense, as they would've needed a sect heir, but wangji? how would he have been concieved, if madame lan was trapped away and qingheng-jun was in seclusion. either this is a plot hole im looking way too deep into or theres something darker happening there
in any case, the twin jades most likely did not have a good childhood. like at all. their father was completely absent, and once their mother died they were practically parentless. sure lan qiren raised them, but he was also acting as the lan sect leader whilst qingheng-jun was away, so i doubt he held much involvement in their raising other than making sure they stuck to the rules and were fed etc
SPEAKING OF THE RULES. the punishments the kids in the lan sect had to deal with?????? the fact that nhs, wwx and jc were beaten for rule breaking whilst they were staying at the lan sect as pupils just makes me wonder how badly they treat their own lan disciples if thats how they treat special guests from other clans. they were fifteen when that happened, FIFTEEN, so clearly the lan sect has no problem with LITERALLY BEATING children to teach a lesson.
its basically just abuse to keep a system in place, and it makes me wonder just how many times the twin jades suffered like that as kids to be as 'perfect' as they are as adults
the lan are so corrupt in their ways and i hate how we dont fully see that in the story until wangji is whipped for protecting wei ying. the whole situation is so fucking cruel and unnecessary it makes my blood boil whenever i reread/rewatch that part, because yes wangji did wrong by injuring the elders but the only reason he did so was because they were refusing to listen to him and quite literally trying to murder his lover.
i get he committed treason or whatever by fighting the elders but 33 whip lashes all in one go with NO breaks or healing time?? with a magical cultivated punishment whip as well, its genuinely like they were trying to kill him. even if he didnt die from the lashings themselves he could've gotten an infection, or had severe blood loss, or hell they coulve broken his spine with the force of it. it took so long for him to heal from that, and it left him with so many scars both physical and mental. that level of injury would've likely left him with some form of chronic pain or illness as well, and it was just so cruel for a situation that didn't ever need to come to this.
they forced him into seclusion, just like his father, and punished him for defending himself, just like they did his mother. xichen ended up similarly as well, with his seclusion after the events with jgy. the lan elders had seen the horrific end qingheng-jun and madame lan had, and yet did nothing to stop their children from facing the same trauma, even making theirs worse.
the lans praise themselves as a sect that sticks to righteousness and principles, when realistically its just full of hypocrites holding onto power by means of fear and punishment. they say that lwj broke the rules by fighting to save wwx, and yet somehow torturing him was completely within the rules of the clan.
their rules and image are merely a cover up for the downright abuse and silencing of their disciples, and its just so fucked up. i could rant about this for so much longer, but also wanna see what other people think before i delve into some of the other topics i have in mind that relate
#lan wangji deserved better#'wwx suffered so much' WHAT ABOUT WANGJI#lan qiren on his own is a whole nother thing i could rant about#xichen as well like#the twin jades are so overlooked in some aspects it hurts my soul#mdzs#cql#mo dao zu shi#the untamed#danmei#grandmaster of demonic cultivation#the founder of diabolism#modaozushi#mo dao su zhi#lan wangji#lwj#lan zhan#lan xichen#lan huan#lxc#mdzs lwj#mdzs lxc#lan qiren#gusu lan#twin jades#twin jades of gusu#gentlegentian#wangxian#mxtx#mxtx mdzs
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3 and 5 for Dagger, 6 for Dragula
3. Has your OC killed a friend/family member/loved one?
Yes! His adoptive father, Thatch, and his brother (kinda). After he was taken in by nomads as a kid, he never really acclimated well and rejected any attempt at making them his new family. He only cared about his little brother Casey and trying to protect him. He constantly clashed with Thatch even though he defended him a lot from clan elders and other members and generally protected him from facing the consequences of his actions (he was a troubled kid, unsurprisingly lol). Dagger harbored a lot of anger and trauma from his biological father that automatically transferred onto Thatch despite him being a generally Decent Guy and Father Doing His Best with two traumatized orphans. But they argued a lot throughout their life together and eventually Dagger totally snaps and kills him (stabs him 30 times oops). Sometime during those 30 stabbins', Casey interrupts and in wave of panic and adrenaline and blind rage, Dagger ends up cutting Casey's throat. It's a total accident but he watches his brother bleed out in front of him before he runs. Leaves the clan before anyone finds him (and is officially branded Raffen). Little did he know, Casey is actually found by a clan medic and is able to be saved in time! But Dagger lives several years believing him to be dead, and it's one of the biggest defining moments of his life, because without the single thing in this world he actually gave a shit about, he allows himself to detach completely and become truly an unhinged monster and thus its the start of the man the myth and the legend himself.
5. What is your OC’s moral code?
Well. its broken lol! He essentially sees other people as pawns to be used or toyed with, so he generally has no problem ruining lives. "If you got a problem with it square up and stop me" kind of deal. His worldview is shaped around survival of the fittest, and he sees nothing wrong with this. Be the Bigger Monster. If someone isn't willing to stoop that low then it means they're weak and free game and he's probably doing them a favor by killing them. The only people who he won't are children, the outliers in his mentality. Children should be taught to survive. They don't know any better, they need a good example. He'll show them a good example. He'll kill everything around them and then give them a knife. He's practical and realistic (so he believes). He doesn't get attached to anyone (he's just repressed). The only thing in the world that matters is blood. (All of this of course because he witnessed something very bad when he was very small and he never wanted to feel that scared again).
6. Would your OC make a deal with the devil?
There was a time where he was more of an idealist and he wouldn't, but he becomes a bit jaded and detached and for the right price he might. But not for anything like money or status and probably not even power. If he was going to go that far it'd be for something bloody and vengeful and scorched earth. It'd have to be very worth it for him to have a leash around his neck (again.)
#dagger will tell you that the day his brother 'died' was the best day of his life (lie) because it allowed him to reach his full potential#nothing holding him back! no emotion! no love! just killin!!!!#they both died that day!!!!! and they were both reborn#but the whole thing genuinely haunts him :) only time in his life he let himself cry! and boy it was maniacal. laughing. crying.#hes fine :)#also it should be no surprise that his Nemesis(TM) is a kid who grew up as a witness to his violence#someone who is both a mirror to him and a consequence of everything he chose to do and be#sorry that im long winded v.v it will happen again#ty tho#oc: dagger#oc: dragula
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Sorry if this is a weird question but like. What are your thoughts on the whole Darkstalker/Peacemaker thing? Like I get that Kinkajou was trying to help but I feel like erasing all of his memories and experiences was. Kinda an iffy way to do it? I'm trying to figure out if this is something other people think or if it's just me.
It bothers me immensely and I don't like it! Actually I hate it! I talked about it before but I hate it so so much, it's a terrible way to resolve the plot and it goes against all the themes and there's some serious tone dissonance with how Kinkajou reacts and the reality of the situation and it's chock full of horrifying implications- I don't like it.
Uh...I'll try to say something more coherent uh- I think the Strawberry scene has a lot of problems, especially in the way they treat Darkstalker.
Darkstalker is a Lost Cause. Darkstalker could of never Been Better because he Couldn't Be Better, he's inherently bad, somehow. His soul was corrupted by his magic, and such.
They even alluded to this in Darkstalker Legends, his opening has him be ominous and mysterious as he hatches from his egg...when he was a baby.
This, bothers me. It's ignoring the impact Arctic had on Darkstalker as a child and attributing it to inherent evil. Darkstalker isn't bad because he was treated in a way that caused him to grow up in an unhealthy way, he's bad because he was born with a lot of power.
What the strawberry scene is saying, is that, since Darkstalker was just, born more evil. It is right to rewrite his mind. All the other people he did it to? That's bad (though the treatment of Fierceteeth is a...whole other issue) but if He was affected by it? It's fine, because Darkstalker is Evil.
It's another situation where WoF Is being frustratingly black and white about a serious issue.
Arc 2 is about being forced into a box you don't fit in and/or being outcasted because you don't fit and the trauma resulting from that. It's about what society wants from you and how that affects people. It's about preconceived notions and how that affects others. It's about focusing too much on what someone is rather than what they do.
Qibli is worried about not being good enough and lies to protect himself because the last time he wasn't good enough he was sold off, Winter is an abused child dealing with not being Good Enough for his kingdom (and his family), Turtle hides to protect himself so that he doesn't have to live up to any expectations, Moon is isolated from everyone due to either being a Nightwing, or not being on the volcano and has to deal with hearing other people's thoughts and the Future weighing on her the entire time. Kinkajou is constantly underestimated due to being a Rainwing. And Peril is trying to reconcile her bloody past, with who she actually is, with who people think she is.
When Darkstalker rewrites People's Minds he is literally forcing people to be someone else. Darkstalker was literally gonna do a genocide because he had a preconceived idea about Two Entire Kingdoms. Darkstalker expects the Jade Winglet to be like his friends.
I don't like him and I really think they should of just made him Evil and Bad instead of trying to do whatever this is.
But in WoF canon he is not pure evil, he is a product of his time, a reminder of the mistakes made by the people around him. He is a genocidal manipulator because of the abuse he suffered and the multiple tragedies in his life.
Darkstalker, Having his mind rewritten, against his Will, goes against Everything!
It goes, no, Darkstalker would always be like this. That Darkstalker couldn't of been prevented, that some people are just inherently evil.
So uh yeah, I don't like the strawberry.
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shuri and namor: the mirror image
let’s jump into this well overdue meta, shall we?
shuri and namor’s dynamic is compelling because we are seeing two mirror images meet each other, confront each other, and eventual align with each other. to see your mirror image is to see your reflection. you can read it as soulmates, twin flames, whatever. i use the word mirror image because the imagery of both shuri and namor standing on opposite sides of that same mirror is a pretty apt description of their relationship. and we see what happens when the glass between them breaks.
“the same wound”
tenoch has said repeatedly that shuri and namor share the same wound. this wound being grief and trauma. for shuri, this wound is fresh: the death of her brother despite her efforts to save him. it has left her with paralysing guilt, a cold detachment to spiritualism and an anger that could burn the world. for namor, this wound is centuries old: witnessing the heartbreak of his mother due to colonialism. as the ruler of talokan he’s burdened with trying to protect his people from an evil he has witnessed and has no real control over.
the scene at the beach is when we first see the two interact. “this better not be apart of your ritual” shuri says, as if their words or mere presence had summoned a stranger to them. and it’s kind of true. namor, only after overhearing the depth of shuri’s rage, emerges from the sea. at five hundred years old, he is well-versed in rage and he already understands that him and shuri share the same wound from her words.
most of the conversation flows through ramonda, wielding a spear as her guards herself and her daughter from a god who promises war and ruin if they do not deliver him the scientist. namor is calm and collected in this moment, at peace with the fact he holds the advantage in this tug of war. also at peace with the fact he has a potential ally in shuri already. shuri is on guard, but intensely curious at the vibranium clad god with winged feet. she doesn’t realise yet how alike they are. perhaps her disconnect with the spiritual has played a part in that. in any case, her curiosity is already tethering her to her mirror image.
“we must look at each other and recognise we are the same”
after shuri’s “not-abduction-abduction” we find ourselves just outside talokan in a cave. shuri is ready to face namor, for a chance to save riri williams and understand namor’s motivations. after a quick wardrobe change she meets namor alone, surrounded by his history.
shuri’s dress, which is specifically made for her, is pure talokanil artistry: a light white silk robe with an elaborate neckpiece made of jade and pearls. a royal fit. namor’s likeliness is also embodied on the lower part of the dress. interesting that namor, perhaps subconsciously, is creating a literal mirror image of himself. manifesting the mythical through the literal. when looking at shuri he is now seeing his culture, his history, his likeliness reflected back at him.
for them to be allies, he must show how they are the same. so he tells the story of his people, the spanish conquistadors, his mother’s heartbreak over leaving her home, the evil that took over their land, and finally his vow to hold no love for the surface world. shuri still doesn’t understand- why are you telling me this?. which makes sense. namor has had five hundred years to sit and understand his wound. shuri has spent the last year ignoring it. she isn’t making the connections between the two of them that namor was able to do in a heartbeat.
instead, she uses her smarts to try and save riri: keep her in talokan and send riri back to wakanda safe. and i don’t think namor was expecting that. he pauses, considering and thinking over her proposal. then shuri says she would love to see talokan and he stumbles slightly, perhaps bashful, but quickly agrees to her suggestion. it’s like seeing people on opposite sides a mirror, tentative tapping at the glass. while they are mirror images, they are not identical. the mistake on namor’s part is to believe shuri’s response should be the same as his. when really it should be complementary. shuri is actually softening his edge with reason.
ryan coogler has said one theme of wakanda forever is smarts v wisdom. while shuri is a certified genius, she doesn’t have the wisdom that a god of five hundred years have. and i think we see that on display throughout their scenes in talokan. namor is patient telling her the why. he’s betting that his wisdom will be enough to convince her. while shuri counters with reason and logic.
“only the most broken people can be great leaders”
namor gifts shuri his mother’s bracelet, finishing his literal mirror image, hopeful and confident that she understands how similar they are now. they share a vulnerable moment, the glass between them is the thinnest. shuri finally starts to unpick her grief, confused as to why she had to face such tragedy when she has the gifts to avoid it. and namor, a god who has to constantly deal with grief, doesn’t have the answer. all he knows is the wisdom his ancestors gave him- only the most broken people make great leaders.
but shuri, still doesn’t understand. she believes this whole situation about the scientist, but it’s about more than that. again, smarts v wisdom. shuri can’t see the bigger picture until namor shows her. and when namor lays all his cards on the table and shuri is shocked by his commitment to war.
namor needs an ally and shuri is his only option. if wakanda doesn’t stand by him, he will drown wakanda along with the rest of the world. while shuri thinks it’s madness, the glass between them paper thin. namor sees and knows her as well as he knows himself. he gives shuri one last reply so that she understands how thin the glass between them is: you said you wanted to burn the world. then let’s burn it together.
shuri’s rescue goes awry. the death of two innocent talokanil will be seen as an act of war. shuri knows this for certain because now she knows him. as soon as she is back in her lab she is looking at defences and telling aneka to keep her weapons, while ramonda is giving riri a tour and nakia talks with okoye. everyone knows namor is a threat, so why is it only shuri who is on edge? because the rage she sees in namor is exactly like her own. and that rage is enough to burn down the world.
namor, well namor is pissed. and rightfully so to some degree. but still he wants an ally. he still wants shuri by his side. but he thinks the only way that is possible, is for her to get wise. and fast. she needs to break. just like how he has been broken over the centuries. shuri needs to lose her innocence and to do that, he needs to kill the queen.
a child without love
the death of the mother triggers godhood for both namor and shuri. yes, namor was technically already a god king since birth, but it’s truly the death of his mother that marks the end of his childhood and start of his godhood as namor.
and shuri follows the same path. shuri becomes namor- a child without love. when burying her mother, shuri remarks that her heart is buried with ramonda. and just like how namor’s godhood is marked with the death of his childhood (triggered by the death of his mother), m’baku remarks that she could no longer be considered a child due to all the loss she has suffered.
and shuri isn’t a child, she’s vengeance incarnate. just like namor. the glass is between shuri and namor has shattered. the one is now the other. and more importantly, killing the one will now kill the other.
when two gods go to war the only outcome could be eternal war. namor and shuri can be interpreted as many different gods, or myths. one interpretation comes from the aztec gods quetzalcoatl and tezcatlipoca- brothers who were a part of the creation myth, one represented by a feathered serpent and the other a black jaguar. it’s fascinating dynamic (and probably for a different meta). it’s just important to highlight that this isn’t just two mirror images fighting. it’s godly mirror images fighting. which is why the phrase eternal war feels intentional, but also a stunning apt. and also it reminds me of the relationship mythical gods have, where destruction is inevitable and the grievances are personal.
so, anyway they fight. and it’s brutal. she clips his wing, grounding him, the god brought to the level of a mortal. a role reversal of their previous interactions. after punches, slashes, and stabs, shuri finally bests him. and goes for the kill.
but here’s the thing. you can’t just kill your mirror image. when you see yourself in another person, killing them would be akin to killing that part of yourself. it will only deepen the wound not heal it. but also you’re not suppose to shatter the glass between your mirror image because you’re not suppose to become your mirror image. it’s not natural. mirror images/soulmates/twin flames are suppose to be complementary. two separate halves coming together. not the same half overlapping. it’s why namor’s plan to force shuri is to become him- a broken ruler without love- backfires. he inflicted pain onto shuri, like how he had pain was inflicted as a child. trauma begets trauma. he was closer to a union when bargaining with a princess, not a goddess ready to rip his heart out. with her claws.
healing the wound
shuri almost makes the mistake of killing namor and pauses. she is reminded that he is her reflection, her mirror image. they share the same pain, they share the same love for their people. queen ramonda tells her to show him who you are and in that moment there is clarity. she is not namor. she is not a resentful, vengeful goddess. she is shuri, daughter of t’chaka and ramonda, sister of t’challa. and she will not risk eternal war. her last act as a goddess is to restore the glass namor had shattered. she finally understands and sees namor as her mirror image and thus is able to grant him an alliance.
shuri is now able to heal her wound. her stint of being a goddess and queen, has matured her. she confronts her grief in a healthy way- by going back to the spiritualism she dismissed at the start. as for namor, the alliance is healing his original wound by making him trust shuri, a person of a surface world, and choosing to put his people above the pain and anger that has been fuelling him for centuries. he is prepared for war but he will not be the one to start it. two mirror images that couldn’t heal without the other.
he paints their fight, two distinct figures- the k'uk'ulkan and the black panther. equals. he knows not to shatter the mirror again, to not risk the wrath of the most powerful person, in the most powerful nation. and he doesn’t have to. they are mirror images after all. if, or really when, shuri will want his assistance, all she has to do is knock the glass. and he will be ready.
#well that was long#but i hope that makes sense!#wakanda forever#namuri#namor x shuri#shuri x namor#wakanda forever spoilers#meta#black panther#mcu#seaprincess#mcu shuri#nashuri#marvel#mcu namor
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Memory Au — Character Info Post
Time for a New Au! >:D This one uses a scenario where, through an unknown summoning glitch, the gunboys are temporarily returned to the physical and mental state they were in when they were first summoned... and before all of the abuse and trauma had fully started happening. Or had only just started.
Overall, that means innocent, trusting, openly needy guns who don't have the experience or awareness to hide their more vulnerable traits. Some are outwardly much better off than how they'd later end up, some just have a different set of issues.
For asks/requests, you can take the chance to treat these un-broken versions of the gunboys with kindness... or you can be their first truly terrible experiences. The aftermath of the switch is also a fun part to think about; when they go back to their normal selves, yet retain all of the memories of what happened to them while they'd been changed.
Requests are open for this now, so have fun! General questions (about the Au itself, character personalities, etc) are welcome!
. . .
F
Sweet, somewhat shy, and deeply eager to be a good Musketeer just like his useful, reliable brother. He’s soft-hearted and emotionally sensitive— both praise and disapproval affect him massively. Cries easily and is awful at hiding his emotions. Physical affection makes him melt, but he’s easily flustered by too much attention or intimate touch.
Belga
Still hyperactive and more than a little stupid, but behaves more like an overexcited kid than a battle-happy maniac. He’s constantly pestering his Master and seeking out attention, eager to learn about everything they like and join in on their happiness. Shows his soft-hearted crybaby side far more often, and runs to his Master whenever he wants comfort.
Mikhael
Soft-spoken, gentle, and almost angelically elegant. Delicate in both body and demeanor. Rather than being disconnected and distant from the world to protect himself, he adores the beauty of the world around him and is far more willing to open up and connect with others. He can be slightly spacey and frequently ends up lost in his thoughts.
Ninety
Just like an eager puppy, he’s clingy, happy, and excited by nearly everything. He’s able to talk in this state, and not afraid at all to do so. While he still does have a rather anxious personality, to some degree, he’s more willing to show how helpful and clever he can be, and nowhere near as panicky. He’s full of energy and usually fidgeting because of it.
Ghost
Still aware that he’s a failed prototype, and anxiety-ridden because of it. Terribly insecure and afraid of abandonment, yet still hopeful that he can prove himself useful to earn his Master’s attention. Follows his Master like a persistent shadow, though he’s too nervous to ask for attention outright. Highly emotional and not jaded enough to try to hide it.
89.
While he’s still introverted and prone to depressive spirals, he’s much more hopeful and optimistic. Shy and highly responsive to any kindness from others, he quickly grows attached to those who show interest in him. Quickly gets clingy and needy with a kind master. He’s still awkward around other people, but without the beaten-in fear of rejection.
Eins
Emotionally stunted and struggles with empathy, yet puts in effort to connect with the other guns. Caring, protective, and often fills a “big brother”-like role. Does his best to fulfill whatever orders he receives; takes commands very seriously, especially when they come from his Master. Far more gentle than his size and stoic face would suggest.
Fal
Though he still has high expectations of himself, he’s far more willing to take his own needs into account. Eager to be of use and make the most of his capabilities, and often pushes himself too far to please others. Much more relaxed and open, though he’s still polite and deeply respectful. Has a close relationship with F and tries to help him succeed.
Kirsch
Needy, attention-seeking, and as much of a brat as ever, but in a very different way. He’s only experienced the first steps of the abuse that would follow, so he doesn’t yet see sex as love. Mischievous without being sadistic, and without his usual vicious envy. Wants his Master’s love desperately, but in the form of cuddles and praise instead of being used.
Hokusai
As hyperactive, upbeat, and energetic as ever, but without the scattered thinking and impulsive decision-making. Incessantly cheerful and excited to be of as much use as possible. Still has his blood/red phobia, but to a far lesser and more manageable extent. Eagerly hopeful for his Master’s attention and wants to earn it in whatever way he can.
Love1
Since his gun is a faulty mess, he’s been afraid and in pain from the beginning. Far more panicky and plain because he lives in fear of his flaws being noticed. Lacks his usual faked persona and persistent sense of humor, but also doesn’t yet have the reflex to hide his needs with a Master who’s kind to him. Clings to Like2 as a “protector”.
Like2
Open about how badly he wants to be spoiled and loved. Seeks comfort and nice things in whatever way he can, and melts into any affection. Desperately wants to make himself pretty and sweet and worth being loved, but without his usual method of doing that. Cries more easily and often and admits when he’s uncomfortable or in pain.
Mauser
Sweet and eager to be of service however he can. Instead of being stoic and aggressive, he’s openly adoring of his Master and almost prefers being a lap dog over being a bodyguard. Always trying to cling to his Master’s arm or hold their hand. Responsive to praise and any kind of attention, with a precious smile whenever he’s treated kindly.
Parume
Instead of keeping up a cutesy, well-behaved front, he’s openly and happily an eager little menace who enjoys causing mischief at every chance he gets. Smug and somewhat cocky, but turns into an eager, adoring mess when with his Master. Far more trusting, without the same fear of people knowing his true self. Loves attention and feeling spoiled.
Muku
He’s still kind of not okay— in the sense that he has serious issues with emotional processing and disturbing responses to violence—, but he hasn’t reached the point of believing he deserves nothing but suffering and pain. Desperately wants kindness and affection, with no idea how to get it. Immature, mentally distant, and highly naive.
Marks
Though his personality is mostly unchanged, he’s somehow even more annoying. With no experience telling him that he can’t be near his Master constantly, he’s unbearably clingy and embarrassingly eager to please. A little less viciously protective, since he’s not yet fully aware of how many threats there are in the world. Pathetically naive.
Like Two
Lacks his usual abrasive, hot-tempered persona. Though he’s still pretty tsun, it’s more of the flustered, vaguely in denial type than the angry type. More willing to admit to his feelings, especially when he’s upset or in pain. Presents himself more femininely and isn’t as desperate to hide the things he likes. Openly needy, especially when he’s stressed.
Herme
Deeply afraid of making mistakes because of his status as a near-perfect gun. He hasn’t convinced himself he’s a lump of iron yet, so he has no mental barrier to make him think he’s flawless. He’s still calm, polite, and highly functional, but he lacks his usual ego and has very little ability to completely conceal his emotional responses. Desperate to be “good enough”.
Arisaka
Quiet and spacey, but not fully dissociating. His awful memories of his past as a weapon aren’t quite so all-consuming. Enjoys people-watching and trying to connect with others despite being terribly awkward and stiff. Clings to people who offer comfort even though he feels guilty for it. Not completely accustomed to violence and pain yet.
Springfield
His body is still weak and sickly, but the damage is nowhere near as far along. With some lingering hope of being useful to his Master, his self-esteem is slightly better. More outgoing and not as self-conscious, and eager to find ways to make even his fragile self worthwhile. Still tries to hide what’s “wrong” with him, but opens up more easily.
Siegblut
Eager to prove himself as useful and capable, without the tough-guy act to hide that. Proud of himself and his work, yet still highly responsive to praise. He willingly shows his “housewife” behavior in the hopes his skills will be recognized and admired. Nervous about if he’ll be stuck in his brother’s shadow, but lacks the assertiveness to stand up for himself.
Gras
Desperate for affection and recognition, but with no ability to control his distress when he’s rejected or disliked. Lacks his usual coping methods of violence and sex, so he’s prone to awful meltdowns instead. Highly needy and emotional, and still prone to vicious jealousy, but without the unpleasant walls to keep his surprisingly sensitive heart guarded.
Murata
Proud and proper, but far less distrustful. Affectionate and highly protective toward his Master, similar to how he behaves around Arisaka. Much more comfortable with receiving affection and care, though it still flusters him quite a bit. Happy to be relied on. Not quite as quick to resort to violence (or attempted murder) despite his temper.
Hachikyu
Much less depressed and withdrawn, though he is still prone to self-consciousness and anxious moods. Tentatively willing to reach out to people and socialize, without so much of a fear of rejection. Easily attached to those who treat him kindly. While he’s still quiet and awkward, he’s not assuming everything in his life will stay awful and unhappy.
Benetta
While he’s still serious and fairly calm, his “little gun” side shows a lot more. He’s more openly clingy with his Master, willing to seek out attention and try to stay close to their side, but he’s also a little too eager to fulfill their orders. Quiet, somewhat dense, and still naive about a lot of the world; can easily be confused by new concepts and expectations.
Carcanore
Openly blunt, aggressive, and far less cheerful. He feels out of place and worries that his Master will view him poorly, and is self-conscious because of it. Highly uncomfortable with affection and kind treatment— both because he’s not used to it, and because he thinks he doesn’t deserve it. A little too willing to put his body in harm’s way if it’s of any use.
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ShuiZhu ( main lmk oc )
水珠 ( water pearl )
she/her // bisexual
names / nickname:
ao Shui / shui zhu
{ water girl / titan mermaid / goddess of the ocean / sea witch / fan girl2.0 / the pearl keeper }
backstory:
Ao guang found a giant clam created by nüwa with her inside and then raised her as his daughter since no one else wanted to accept her though some other dragons didnt like her at all except the dragon attendant she got used to her.
once almost injured one of her dragon brothers Ao jiao and almost killed her in a act of revenge luckily Ao guang broke the fight. Ao bing the attendant and Nezha are the only ones she got along well with
secretly went up to the surface multiple times and became best friends with Nezha when she saw him playing alone. they became jianzi duos and explored the ocean for treasures together. Ao guang then gave her a bladed fan that can change its size for safety.
as Shui grew more attached to the oceans beauty and powerful nature she somehow gained water powers because of it. she may have destroyed a few buildings but it wasnt severe but she once made a whirlpool killing many fishermen on accident and they wanted to execute her though Ao guang was angered shui cannot help but plead for him to spare the humans
the large village the fishermen lived ended up getting invaded by demons.when they found shui they invited her to be "apart" of they're family which she declined and continued causing havoc amongst the village..the humans may hate her but she wants to save them so she gave her limbs and life to the demons and the only thing left is her head the pool of water her body evaporated into and her blood with her head in Ao guangs arms
then Ao guang had asked the jade emperor to bring her back from the dead and he agreed but it would take 200 years to reborn her new body and erase the trauma she experienced but her happy moments.
then when she grew up her aquatic esque ears started to get more bigger with small scales on her back and the heavens decided to give her the role of the goddess of the sea and fish ( or just any sea creature ) but ao guang didnt want her to go in fear of loosing his own child again but shui promised that every year she would visit for 4 days.then she made a pearl balancing both land and sea from disasters making peace ( wukong tried to steal it when the brotherhood still existed )but though she ascended to divinity she must learn how on how to control her powers so guan yin offered shui to be her student or sometimes when guan yin is busy and Nezha has free time he can help her learn even though water isnt his element despite the fact they had been separated for so long they're bond still stands strong yet it took almost 100 years for them to develop into adults
when shui returned to the mortal realm the first thing she does is to tend the graves of the fishermen she had killed on accident from guilt and then visit Ao guang
( most of the time she visits Nezha hangs out with him and helps him with keeping the map safe growing water lilies and often meditate together )
ship name: Lotuswave
despite Ao jia being extremely mean to her when she was a child they actually dont mean it in fact they were just strict they try there best to be good brothers after her death
powers:
water clones ( her water clones are similar to macaque but much faster than his. the clones cant evaporate but rather when something tries to attack it the attacks go through her clones
liquidkinesis ( most of the time she uses water to attack or make random shapes in a brutal way she can do the same with blood and maybe explode it in someones body but rarely does that )
bladed fan ( her fans were given by Ao guang for protection and to block attacks. her fans can shapeshift into a bigger size but cant get smaller. she can also make tsunamis with it by making it bigger and swinging it in the most aggressive way possible )
shapeshift ( she cant shapeshift into anything but only has two forms her full fish form is made from heavenly water and often swims with other fish groups and the second one has the appearance of a water mermaid. her fish form is smaller than the second one and the second is bigger than Nezhas monster form it even grants her mind reading capabilities
often dreams of becoming a dragon someday or having another form that is a dragon and not a fish so she would feel like shes apart of the dragon family
her water hair cannot get evaporated but can change the temperature based on her emotions for example her hair can actually boil when shes mad but it doesnt hurt her or the person touching it.its just hot
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