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house-of-angst · 3 months

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Y'all mind if I talk about Present Mic's quirk for a second? Great.

So, my partner and I have been having Erasermic brainrot lately, and while we were binging content with them, I became interested in Hizashi's voice quirk. I began searching stuff about how sound/volume works, and linking it to his canon stuff.

I'll just say, the info I found makes him a pretty scary guy. It's a shame he's so underused in both canon and fanon.

Frequency

First of all, I want to talk about something everyone knows about him: his quirk is potent enough to shatter glass. Now, when it comes to decibels, it's always important to consider the time and distance a certain note is held for, since these can impact the "hit" a certain sound wave can have when influenced by effects such as the air or vibrations.

(Please keep this in mind for the reminder of this post)

When it comes to glass, however, it breaks almost instantly under the pressure of his voice. Our most constant example of this is the man's poor lenses, but there is a scene I'd like to talk about the most, it being he one where he completely shatters Shigaraki's tank.

One might argue that the glass was already weakened from Mirko's kicks, but that's honestly part of something that makes this so impressive to me; Mirko's legs are strong enough to straight-up rip a high-end Nomu's head clean off, yet this tank was tough enough to withstand two attacks from her - including her ultimate move - before starting to leak; and the fact she was heavily injured doesn't fly here, as we very clearly could see she wasn't holding back one bit.

Now, let's get technical.

According to Google, a normal tone of voice would be around 50 decibels, while the required to shatter glass would be a minimum of 105. For comparison, that's roughly the same volume as a jackhammer. Now, you might be thinking, "Oh, that's not so bad! Some singers can do that!" and you'd be right, but there's also some other things to consider. Allow me to explain.

Some singers can reach a pitch that can make glass vibrate enough for it to break, but I've personally only heard of this happening if the person has their mouth close to a smaller, empty cup, and even then the volume would be distributed around. Hizashi, on the other hand, was standing several feet away from this reinforced tank and was able to shatter it immediately, using the directional speaker around his neck to aim the volume. This would naturally require for him to hit even higher decibels, specially when you take into consideration that one's frequency must match the glass' for it to vibrate, which drastically increases when it's dampened. (Read next topic for more info on this)

And then there's his glasses which, like I've stated before, are the most common thing he breaks with his voice. Obviously, this is not directed and it's not a total shatter, but there is something to be observed; say, did you know the necessary volume for lenses to crack, when not being directly aimed at, would be that of a nearby shot from a highcaliber gun? That's roughly 140-170 decibels.

Harm factor

Boy, oh boy! I'm betting most of you were looking for this part when you clicked the read more, right? Look no further, I've got you covered, you just better remember what I mentioned before about distance and duration.

Hizashi's parents were unfortunate enough to have a mutant child that was born with his quirk already active, and I'm willing to bet a newborn doesn't have the slightest bit of control over a power as destructive as a sonic-powered voice, which immediately resulted in everyone in the room bleeding from the ears.

Sound-related ear bleeding is most commonly associated with a ruptured eardrum, which can happen at around 150 decibels and is about the same as a jet engine taking off. While a baby most likely unleashed his maximum voice power on the first breath, I believe something like that would, thankfully, only develop fully after puberty, just like with non-powered people like us, since his quirk is a drastic intensification of a common function and not a new ability altogether.

With that being said... The Finals Exam.

In this, Hizashi was standing very far and, even with the directional speakers, there were many obstacles in the way that kept him from landing direct soundwaves on the students. Regardless, Jirou's ears bled in less than 30 minutes being exposed to this.

This could have happened due to the fact that she has a hearing quirk, which would make hers much more sensitive, but let's study this, shall we? We don't have the exacts of what happened there, but the students are visibly uncomfortable upon the first soundwave, which would suggest it was at about 120 decibels upon impact (with 85 already being enough to cause damage to your ears) and being emitted even higher by him, considering distance muffles volume. Still, I think all that would be nothing compared to the scream he let out after those bugs started crawling on him, with how unfiltered that was.

With Jirou, it comes to no surprise this volume at this distance and time almost rendered her deaf, and realistically would take several months of healing time. How much do you want to bet Hizashi got a solid scolding from Shouta? I mean, it was supposed to be a challenge, but homeboy came this close to breaking her quirk.

Another thing I want to point out is that his voice is powerful enough to actually fucking launch people, and this only happens due to an event called acoustic trauma, basically meaning Hizashi can surpass supersonic levels. Although, it's important to note that this effect is caused mostly due to pressure and not so much as sound, so while it's not freakishly loud (about the same as thunder), it can still cause hearing and psychological damage.

! WARNING !

The following part contains graphic mentions of injury, and death. Do not proceed if these are sensitive topics for you.

Now, we look at the disturbing side of Hizashi's quirk. Buckle in, because it's a wild ride.

Remember what I commented earlier, about him having to hit even higher frequencies to be able to shatter Shigaraki's tank? First of all, as the doctor was sent flying, this qualifies as supersonic, but that's not all. To shatter such a protected tank, with liquid inside increasing the density, he'd have to hit over 200 decibels; which is considered extremely dangerous and most definitely fatal, as the threshold of pain is of 115-140 - this can cause damage such as crushed ear bones, ruptured lungs, or embolism. For comparison, this would come close to standing right next to a Saturn V Moon Rocket during launch, and is no longer considered a "sound" due to the vacuum.

With that being said, the man came very close to dying by Hizashi's hands (voice?) twice. Not only was he so close during the lens incident, literally being inches away from his face and in risk of getting his eardrums ruptured already, but if Mic had decided to raise his voice even more during his rage, it'd be possible for the frequency to make the doctor's inner organs malfunction, or straight-up burst from the pressure.

But that's not the worst part.

After establishing that the lethal amount of over 200 decibels would be necessary to shatter the tank given the circumstances, if he exceeded 240 and the doctor happened to be in the way of this, it would be enough to cause his head to explode upon impact. That old man better be grateful that he was standing a feet few away, and that the supersonic blast blew him away a bit more, or it'd be an immediate game over.

With all this being said, how devastating would it be for this guy to scream his rage out?

(Please keep in mind that many of the extreme cases in this are actually impossible to happen in a real-life scenario and are purely speculation!)

#erasermic #(mentioned)#bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #present mic #yamada hizashi #rambles

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nohaijiachi · 8 months

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I got randomly recommended this video by YT and wrote a ginormous comment in response because I have no self control, apparently, so I thought I might as well also share my thoughts here in regard to whatever is going with THIS FUCKING SMILE

(under a cut to not clog y'alls dashboards)

(the first part of the comment here is a direct response to some of the ideas put forth in the video, it is very short so give it a quick watch for more context if you want)

Imo it's not necessary to look into overcomplicated theories that rely too much on off screen shenanigans to explain the smile, for how amusing the idea of them having swapped during the kiss is (like, the kind of stuff I won't want to be actually canon, but I'll be very happy to see explored in fan fics lol)

I think to fully explain that smile we have to take in consideration multiple factors:

This show is very purposeful in what it does and doesn't, well... show. That last shot is very long and I think the fact that Aziraphale's and Crowley's expressions in the aftermath of their disastrous break up is shown in such a manner tells us a LOT about the state of mind they might be at the start of S3, and the obstacles they'll have to face. Aziraphale doesn't immediately smile, rather he seems to look almost shell-shocked for most of the shot; it's clear (to me at least lol) that the quiet ride up the elevator is finally giving him some desperately needed time to fully digest everything that happened, because too much has happened in an extremely short amount of time, and we all know Aziraphale doesn't do well with speed lol.

But, for how much he can sometimes be a complete moron, he is smart, and all he needs are just those seconds of quiet to properly ponder on everything, on the choices made and the ramifications of said choices, and that's how we get to smile-- I'll delve into what I think Aziraphale is going through in his mind in more details later, because I also think it's necessary to focus a bit on Crowley's own expression, since the both of them are so intrinsically linked that the narrative cannot make sense without taking the both of them into account.

Crowley's expression is much more static and doesn't change the way Aziraphale's does; he looks profoundly tired in ways we've never seen him before. I don't think he's giving up on Aziraphale, and I fully believe the fact that he stood there and waited for Aziraphale to disappear in the elevator, the both of them sharing that last look, was a quiet message: He'll never give up on Aziraphale, he'll be there, waiting. But wait is all he can do for Aziraphale, now, because he can't follow where Aziraphale is going.

For how messy and full of heightened emotions the confession + kiss are, I think actually denying Aziraphale's request was a HUGE step forward for Crowley's character. He's never been able to deny Aziraphale, he always went back to him after every fight, and we all know how stupidly whipped for Aziraphale he is and how he'd empty the ocean with a spoon if Aziraphale asked him nicely-- But to actually put his foot down and say "no, I cannot do this for you" when asked to all but renounce the person he is now? Especially with how Aziraphale is all but begging him openly? That's a huge step, and something I think Crowley desperately needs to mature as a person (or, well, person-shaped being). We all love how Aziraphale has him wrapped around his little finger I'm sure, but we also all know that if they truly want to build a strong, healthy relationship they also both need to be able to keep their individuality and to put forth adequate boundaries about what they are willing to do for each other within reason.

Asking Crowley to come back to being an angel when he's made blatantly clear for six thousand bloody years how much he despises Heaven is not a 'within reason' request, innit?

So, yeah, for how heartbreaking the break-up was, in a sense Crowley needs it. They both do. They both need time apart to figure their own shit out, dismantle all those unhealthy habits they had to adopt in order to be with one another as safely as they possibly could while still 'employed', and then come back together with a clearer mind and a whole deal stronger than before, both as individuals and as a couple.

And I think how tired and downtrodden Crowley looks in that last shot is a precursor to this process, just as much as Aziraphale's smile is... So, let me get back to our favorite angel and what I personally think is going on with him.

I think to properly contextualize that smile we need to look at not just the happening of those infamous last fifteen minutes, but of S2 as a whole, and what Aziraphale does in it.

So, what is Aziraphale doing during S2?

At the start he seems to be more or less comfortably settled in his current life; he's as happy as ever doing what he's always done, enjoying humanity's creativity with his books and his music and his food and drinks, seemingly content to be puttering about in his bookshop (which is a stark contrast with Crowley's homelessness and his kinda adrift and depressed attitude). Of course then Jim!Gabriel throws a wrench right into that, but imo I think there was a lot more going on behind the facade of Aziraphale's well ingrained habits.

Sure, he still has all of his familiar comforts and his routine, but from the moment we see him interact with Crowley I saw a deep restlessness emerge in him: The panicked look he launches Crowley when Nina asks him about his 'naked man friend', the way he speaks with Crowley with all those 'our' he uses, the blatant way he keeps reaching over and touching Crowley-- To me that suggests that Aziraphale is clearly not as happy as he seems to be on a superficial glance. He clearly wants more with Crowley, wants to bring their relationship to the next step, but because the both of them are so deeply entrenched in their unhealthy coping mechanisms and habits and their inability to openly communicate it doesn't even occur to Aziraphale to just... You know. Take the first step, actually say something about it. So he just keeps throwing bait after bait in the water, hoping Crowley will bite and be the one taking the initiative as he's always done, finally allowing Aziraphale to accept said initiative, this time around.

Of course, we all see that Crowley doesn't take any first step, which is probably something deeply frustrating for Aziraphale at a subconscious level. That's how we get the ball; sure, on the face of it it was Aziraphale's way to make Nina and Maggie fall in love, but... Was it, really? Let's be real, for how entirely believable it is that Aziraphale makes up the lie about Nina and Maggie's love to cover for their miracle is, since we've seen him being anxious around other angels, I don't think for a second that had Aziraphale just stopped and spent three minutes thinking about it he wouldn't have found a way to convince Muriel that Nina and Maggie were, in fact, in love, especially with how 'green' Muriel is about humans.

I fully believe that Aziraphale is not properly thinking during S2, period. He's frustrated by his inability to bring his and Crowley's relationship to what he wants it to be, and that frustration and single-minded objective is utterly obfuscating his thought process. There are plenty of moments he seemed almost manic, imo, which I read as another sign about his 'impaired' (allow me the term) state of mind as of S2.

So, yes, the ball: On the face of it something to actually turn his lie to the Archangels into truth, but deeper down, perhaps almost unconsciously, I think Aziraphale sees the ball as a way to finally make him and Crowley happen. That fact that he's taking pointers about romance from human literature is blatant, and obviously he truly does believe the ball will be THE way to make love bloom.

If you stop and think about it, the ball scene is terrifying. These people are being manipulated to play the perfect background parts to make, what is in Aziraphale's mind, the height of romance atmosphere happen. The fact we get a juxtaposition with Nina's "what the F is going on, am I losing my mind???" rightful attitude underlines this. And I truly believe Aziraphale isn't exerting said manipulation with intent, but rather doing so subconsciously, because he's just so fixated on the idea of having finally the perfect set-up to have Crowley as he desires that he is influencing everything around him. After all, we all know they both have the tendency of making things happen the way they want simply by thinking that's how things are supposed to happen.

And again, he's so manic and giddy when he asks Crowley to dance, his ass is not LISTENING. He literally needed a brick thrown through a window to snap out of it.

So, in the present we have an Aziraphale who , in his own way, is trying to take the initiative, come out with plans. There is a moment that I think might have slipped under the radar of a lot of people but that's frightfully important about who Aziraphale is at this point in the story, and who he will need to become: "I have a plan," Aziraphale said to Crowley during the stare down with the demons outside of the bookshop after the ruined ball; Crowley didn't even seem to have registered that sentence at all, because his mind is already projected forward and going a mile a minute about what to do to keep both the humans and Aziraphale safe in this situation.

Crowley, who loves to swoop in and save Aziraphale, doing what he's always done to keep his angel safe, even to the detriment of their relationship with one another... And Aziraphale, who adores playing the part of the damsel in distress in turn, is actually telling Crowley that *he has a plan*.

That's not something to take lightly, methinks. That's very much just another sign that Aziraphale's individuality is struggling, trying to emerge through Aziraphale's anxiety and doubts and fears and deeply ingrained habits. Aziraphale's cognitive dissonance in regards to heaven, and his shaken faith in God are huge motivators of his actions, and in the grand scheme of things the scant few years he had away from under the oppressive thumb of heaven is nothing. It was barely any time at all in the face of the eternity of an immortal life spent under that oppression, and yet we are already seeing little glimpses of Aziraphale's rebellious side struggling to get fully free.

I think these little glimpses inform us at great lengths about the evolution Aziraphale's character will go through in S3, and greatly explains that strange smile right at the end; in my opinion that smile isn't the smile of someone who's trying to convince himself that he's ok, or realizing that Crowley loves him (he knew already, they both knew and have known for a long time, their inability to properly express those feelings was their downfall, but I don't think either of them has doubted even for a second when it comes to how much they love one another). In my opinion that smile is the smile of someone who is steeling himself for what he envisions in his future; equal parts old-sedated anxiety and yet determination to actually enact plans he's surely concocting in his brilliant little mind. That's the smile of someone who has just realized that not only they can, but that they need to do something, and you can damn well be sure they won't be sitting and twiddling their thumbs waiting to be saved, but they'll be the one saving themselves and everybody else along with 'em, this time.

Just as Crowley needs to actually spend some time define himself as himself, and not just in relation to Aziraphale, Aziraphale needs to spend some time shedding all those fears and doubts that are weighing him down, and emerge the other side someone much more self-assured and ready to do what he thinks is right without all the hesitations that have indirectly been strengthened by Crowley; in a way, by allowing Aziraphale an out with his 'temptations', Crowley had been feeding into those hesitations, and had been holding Aziraphale back from fully maturing, even if not done on purpose, obviously. Imo is very important for Aziraphale's character that he comes to realize that he doesn't need those excuses Crowley gifted him to keep doing what he thinks is right, that he actualizes his own morality properly, and enacts on it.

I don't have the faintest clue about what is going to happen in S3, but I do fully believe the above paragraph is what Aziraphale and Crowley's respective character arcs will focus on. And once they'll come back together they'll be the most power couple that has ever power coupl-ed, and the Metatron will have no clue about what is about to hit him >:)

#good omens #good omens 2 #meta #I want Aziraphale to Fuck Shit Up in S3 #you think I was joking with that comic I drew some time ago?#I am NOT!#LET AZIRAPHALE FUCK SHIT UP HE DESERVES IT

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blushstarot · 9 days

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PICK A CARD: a message from your future self

Pick whichever picture you feel more attracted to and skip to that pile.

Pile 1

nine of cups, four of wands (reversed), the magician (reversed).

Okay, but this pile is giving me really sweet vibes, your future self feels like a genuinely carrying person, and looks back at you as a mother figure would. They just want you to be happy and feel welcomed and the energy is overall very heartwarming. Quick thing I want to add before y'all actually read the letter, i don't know if some of you are fans of musicals, specifically of Hamilton, but while I was writing the letter, the melody of dear theodosia was playing in my head so yeah, it might be important for you to know.

"Right now you may feel like you don't fit in, that you lack support, and that you aren't enough. I know you feel insecure but believe when I tell you that you don't have to be scared about that, you are enough and you all the skills and abilities you need to be successful. The universe is working to bring blessings your way, but you have to put some work on it too. Use your intellect, concentration and willpower to make this wonderful things happen, you have the power to manifest the outcome you want. Leave the past behind and put your mind in anything you want to accomplish, I know all our wishes and dreams will become a reality soon enough, for now it's the time of time of happiness, joyfulness and fulfillment."

**As in all the PACs, just take what resonates and leave what doesn't, this is for entertainment only, so have fun with it!

Pile 2

page of cups (reversed), strength (reversed), page of pentacles.

I actually had to redo this pile because I got busy with something important mid reading, and when I had time to continue I couldn't really connect to it again, so I pulled other three cards to do the reading again. The vibes then and the vibes in this new one, suggest that your future self know you are having hard times, and are probably dealing with some childhood related issues, but they want to tell you that things will get better. Also something tells me that they REALLY wanted you to get their message, since they sent both the bearer of messages and the bearer of good news.

"You're going through difficult times, and right now I want you to try to connect with your inner child by embracing the fun side of life. I've always loved how we are young at heart, even sometimes a little bit naïve, but lately you've been ignoring your inner emotions and listening too much to people that are bringing you and your self-esteem down. I bring you good news from the future, a future where all our goals are achieved, but that is only possible if you make the right decisions now and put the groundwork necessary. The future I'm from might seem too far away from were you are today, but time passes quickly and is unforgiving, so I want you to take my advise and keep it close to your heart. I know you can become a person who is both mature and young at heart, I've seen it and have been cheering for you through all that journey, because after all I'm you, and I've already done it."

**As in all the PACs, just take what resonates and leave what doesn't, this is for entertainment only, so have fun with it!

Pile 3

the fool, strength (reversed), five of swords.

I feel like your future self is encouraging you to start something new, maybe something you always wanted to try but never really made time to give it a chance. They want you to focus on the positive and to stay away from people that don't support your dreams. Overall, I feel this is more of a warning of what's to come, in hopes it helps you to be more prepare to face it.

"You're going to enter a new chapter in your life, it may look like something difficult at first, but you need to tap into your inner strength and don't let your fears and anxiety paralyze you. This new chapter is full of exciting and thrilling adventures, you just have to trust your heart and make a leap of fate. If you are not careful, you might end up self-sabotaging and getting involved in a serious conflict, causing unnecessary stress. When the time is right, I need you to stand up for what you truly want and what you believe."

**As in all the PACs, just take what resonates and leave what doesn't, this is for entertainment only, so have fun with it!

Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think of your message.

You can find more of my PACs on my master list, and if you have any suggestions on future PACs you want to see me do, you can send me and ask.

Bye byeee ✨

#pick a card #tarot #pick a pile #pick a picture #tarot reading #tarot community #free tarot #tarot cards #tarotblr #a message #blush'starot

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salbei-141 · 13 days

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Daddy Issues (John Price x Reader)

Masterlist

word count: 1.4k

warnings: 18+, fluff, angst, comfort, suggestive themes, daddy issues, confession, praise, etc.

a/n: I have exams, but this obviously takes priority (if y'all are doing exams, go revise loves, don't be silly and procrastinate like me, I believe in y'all more than I do me)

I can't lie I may be tempted to write a smutty part 2 to this I dunno...Price is a DILF and I know me and you both got daddy issues - I'm writing Captain Price fanfic after all, and you're consuming it, so I feel like part 2 is may be necessary...

Code name: Scarlet

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

You had missed 48% of your shots today, which was well below your usual average accuracy score. You felt yourself getting frustrated knowing you were better than this - you were a good soldier, you had made it to Task Force 141 all by yourself despite the setbacks.

Reloading your pistol, you moved yourself into the correct position and breathed in deeply, then pulled the trigger. You watched as it hit the outermost line on the target. What was with you today? You stood in silence staring at the target feeling dread crawling up your spine - maybe you weren't as good of a soldier as you'd believed you were. You felt yourself remembering the harsh words of your father reminding you that you were just a useless little girl.

Huffing to yourself, you slammed the gun down in front of you, rubbing your hands over your face, feeling that stinging in your throat. Were you really about to start crying? "Get a fucking grip", you muttered to yourself.

That's when you heard the familiar heavy footsteps of your captain. And before you knew it, his voice was coming from behind you, making you shiver lightly with its deep rumble, "You'll have some catching up to do Scarlet - Gaz and Soap are way ahead of you".

You don't know what it was, but the blatant disappointment in his voice had you wanting to hide away and sob - you were supposed to be his best soldier. The frustration and upset overwhelmed your senses, and you turned to face Price with a stoic expression and snappy tone, "Look can you just fuck off? You think you're making this any easier by standing there and breathing down my neck telling me I'm not good enough?".

He looked surprised - you had never snapped at him like this before, especially in front of other soldiers. He then knitted his brows together, staring deeply into your eyes with a blank expression that felt like the calm before the storm and spoke with a low tone, "Get in my office y/n." He watched as your eyebrows furrowed further and your eyes grew darker, as you went to open your mouth and assumedly defy his order, "Now y/n", you shut your mouth instantly and walked to his office as he towed behind while there was a gentle echo of whispers behind you.

As you opened the door to the office you walked into the centre of the room staring outside the window overlooking the premises. You refused to take a seat - it was defiant, but you also didn't want to get comfortable, you knew you'd fucked up royally.

The fire in you just 5 minutes ago had dwindled - you weren't aggressive to your peers, let alone your superior. But you bit at him - you weren't an aggressive person, just overwhelmed - you hadn't meant it.

You stood rigid and on edge - unsure how Price was going to respond to you. You watched as he rounded you, opting to stand tall in front of you, instead of sitting at his desk as you had hoped for.

"Want to explain what the fuck that was?" He stared down at you with piercing eyes that you were struggling to hold your gaze with his, his voice was gruff and stern.

The fire had dwindled in you completely, and you didn't know what to do or how to respond. You stared up at him looking lost - completely bewildered by your own actions, "I'm...sorry"

He watched as your eyes glazed over, he hadn't expected this when you were raising your voice at him mere moments before.

"What?", his brows furrowed confused by your sudden shedding of tears. You weren't an overly emotional individual and he'd never seen you shed tears during some of your most harrowing missions together.

You looked up at him ashamed - feeling like that useless little girl your father had said you always were, "I said I'm sorry John".

The use of his first name changed everything - it felt informal - he felt like he needed to comfort you as a friend, not as your superior.

"Come here y/n", he beckoned you into his arms, letting you wrap your arms around him and softly cry into his chest. He gently ran his fingers through your hair - unsure of what you needed from him right now, but the calming of your breaths reassured him that he was doing enough.

"What’s wrong?”, he pulled back slightly to see your face - your cheeks had flushed red and your eyes remained glossy with tears.

You shift your eyes around him, trying to avoid his gaze and his question. However, you feel as he gently lifted your chin, forcing your eyes to meet his as he waited for an answer.

“I’m just…overwhelmed”, he raised a brow at this - it was obvious that there was more going on.

“Can you tell me why?”, he sounded so gentle - he genuinely wanted to know - he cared.

You continue holding his gaze feeling the newly familiar burn in your throat as you tried to keep your tears at bay - not that it worked as you felt a few escape and trail down your cheeks again, being caught by John's thumb as he wiped them away.

“Do I disappoint you, John?”

"What?", he looked confused - you were probably his most hard-working soldier - getting this far wasn't easy, and it certainly wouldn't have happened if you were a disappointment.

“Do you ever think that I was a poor choice for 141?”, he couldn’t believe what he was hearing - he’d never doubted your abilities since the day he saw your first induction day to the SAS.

"Not at all love, why?"

"You said that I was falling behind...and my father used to tell me if I wasn't the best then I was just another person wasting everyone's time pretending to be something I wasn't, so I should just give up", you held your breath - never having admitted that.

He held your face gently, "Your father's a fucking idiot then love", you chuckled softly and he smiled seeing this - you weren't the same little girl your father would relentlessly put down; if your 10-year-old self could see you know, she'd be so proud of you, you knew that. John was right - your father was a fucking idiot.

"I couldn't be prouder to have you as a member of 141...but you're more than just a soldier love - I think the only time you've disappointed me was the day you got shit-faced with Johnny after your birthday last year"

You stared at him confused, absentmindedly placing your hands over his wrist that held your face, "Why?"

His tone changed - you'd never heard it come from him, "Because I had planned to ask you out -and finally taste those lips of yours"

Your cheeks felt hot as you blushed, shocked by his confession, "Why haven't you said anything?"

He leaned slightly closer to you, smelling the perfume that clung to your skin, "Lost the courage like the idiot I was"

You smile at him, your eyes having dried from the previous tears, "Well don't be an idiot again".

He chuckled lowly, "Don't plan on it love".

He pulled you closer to him, leaning down to meet your lips, kissing you softly, tasting the salt that lingered on your lips. He felt as you gently nipped his lip, feeling the way you smiled into him. He gently pushed you up against his desk, intensifying the kiss, as you both started to feel hotter, your senses overwhelmed by your captain as you felt his body pressed against yours. You gently pushed at his chest, making him pull away and look down at you - your pupils were blown, making him smirk.

"Take me on a date first?"

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to your forehead and spoke lowly, "Of course love - as much I want to fuck you against my desk right now, I think I'd rather take you out first and fuck you in my bed, hm?"

You blushed hard at him, "Maybe you'll get to fuck me against your desk another time"

"I hope so love", he smirked stepping away and holding his hand out to you, "Best get back out there before someone comes to check on you thinking I've lost it on you, huh?"

You smiled at him stepping around him to leave, "Good girl", you stopped in your tracks, ready to turn back around.

"Didn't tell you to stop", you sighed as you heard his low laugh as you left his office to go back to your target - everything before being forgotten as your Captain preoccupied your mind for the rest of the day.

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holy-puckslibrary · 2 months

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just a lil firefighter!sid fluff for y'all :)

gif from @ehghtysevenarchive + per this ask and others

Surely, the chief of Canada's oldest fire department has more important things to do on a crisp morning, the last one preceding a fresh week, than this. He most definitely does. And, yes, Chief Crosby is known for his pragmatic approach to, well, everything.

But neither carries weight here—not when she calls.

Leaky faucet, dead car battery, unreachable spider... It doesn't matter. One ring, and he's rushing home. He can't pin-point when the pattern began, likely sometime shortly between the day you moved into town and his first off-day, but it's a routine he's come to enjoy despite the extra strain on both his schedule and his body; Sidney never thought sharing a property line could be so tedious or time-consuming.

He knows he shouldn't enjoy the distraction as much as he does. You aren't together, Sidney doesn't ever allow his imagination wander that far, but he can't help it. He can't help but help. He rarely turns down anyone in need, which has done wonders for his reputation within the community, but with you... With you, it's different, and embarrassingly so.

He doesn't have the words to explain it. Not that he needs to, it's written plainly across his face.

There's a reason you're regular fixtures in the town's gossip column.

When he arrives on scene—not ten minutes after his F-Series crawled down the gravel drive—Sidney shakes his head and laughs. Collecting his cell and his radio, he slips out of the truck, watching as you fret like a mother hen.

Still in your slippers, you're stood at the base of a decently-sized red spruce wedged between his yard and yours, your crumpled face angled up into the yellow-green needles. You're the very picture of worry, wringing your trembling hands and muttering to yourself.

A stray kitten caught in a tree, that's what's got you in a such a state.

"Well, this is a new one," he bellows in lieu of a greeting, slamming the door shut as his boots hit the ground.

Briefly, your glassy eyes dart in his direction. You're midway through your customary apology when he arrives at your side and quiets you, just as he always does.

"They're more than capable of holding down the fort for however long it takes to rescue our new friend, okay?"

"I know, but what if—"

"But nothing," Sidney huffs, and he dares to take you by the shoulders. And, externally, he ignores the way you shiver under his palms. "If I didn't think it was safe for me to step out for a couple of minutes, I wouldn't. You believe me, right?"

You nod, bottom lip pinched between your teeth.

"Good. Now, how 'bout you keep an ear on this," Sidney sets the clunky satellite radio in your hand, "—and I'll grab the ladder from the shed?"

He doesn't really need your help monitoring the channel, but he knows you'll feel better if you feel like you're doing something. Like him, you find comfort in your utility.

In less than a minute, Sidney re-emerges, rounding the corner with a ladder in hand. You're in the same spot, now fidgeting with the radio, anxiously dumping it from one palm to the other and back again. He follows your gaze to line up the simple equipment necessary for the rescue operation.

Sidney's heart swells as you quietly step forward to spot him.

Lucky for everyone, the ball of orange fur is on the branch nearest to the ground. Sidney needs only to step up onto the first wrung to safetly coax the frightened creature into his waiting hands, he's back on the ground not long after.

He gives the kitten a gentle parting scratch under the chin, then transfers the purring fluff to you. The soft bundle takes to you immediately, nuzzling into your chest like that's where it wanted to be all along.

"I think he likes you," Sidney observes with a cheek-numbing grin.

Your lips are tipped up at the end and there's fan of happiness rooting itself around your eyes. Your mouth opens to reply, but before the words come—

"Well, would you look at this?"

Across the quiet street and a few houses to the left sits an audience of two. Both of which are now cooing as loudly as two ladies in their sixties can manage. Coffee cups in one hand and their cellphones propped up in the other, they fawn over the two of you as if it's live theater.

Sidney curses their sons, who he'd completed the explorer program with as teens, for enabling this technological torture.

"Smile, you two! Oh, Denise is just going to eat this up," one of them, a spitfire in a 4'11 frame by the name of Mrs. Bouchard, exclaims to her co-conspirator, Ms. Johnston.

Then, to no one's surprise and Sid's chagrin, they giddily type out their respective messages to the local paper's equally-nosy editor-in-chief.

"Looks like we're front-page news again," you hum bashfully.

The tabby mewls in your arms. You curl into the little bundle of fur, lips landing between its delicate ears.

Sid studies you in his periphery as he slips in and out of heady contemplation, ultimately deciding he doesn't mind as much as he once did. "That we are..."

—

eek! wait, why do i luv them already 🥹

as always, i would really appreciate if you reblogged my work, left a comment or dropped by my inbox w some feedback :) fandom runs on engagement, and so do writers!! thx a mil in advance!

READ MORE OF THEM HERE!

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dottores · 1 year

Text

HELIOTROPES

pairing: dottore x fem!reader & segments

summary: the gods were sick and twisted. for five hundred years, he believed he was fated to be alone. he had long accepted it—embraced it, even. that is, until a midwinter night when that elusive red thread finally appeared on his finger. but as much as he wants to ignore it, the pull of a soulmate simply cannot be ignored.

genre: soulmate au, canon compliant for the most part.

warnings: fem!reader, worldbuilding for snezhnaya & fatui & fontaine, reader gets a bit hurt in this chapter but only briefly.

notes: y'all we are officially 50k words in omg what a milestone. we are almost there--they are going to meet soon... but technically.... well you'll see. there are THREE special cameos in this chapter

A WARM WELCOME

“Now is not the time, doctor.”

Pantalone didn’t even raise his head to look at Dottore as he scribbled away at whatever parchment he was writing on. Dottore pressed his lips together, eyes cold beneath his mask as he watched Pantalone, unmoving. The windows of his office creaked against the winds outside, fireplace crackling to keep the room warm but other than that, silence rang loudly between the two of them.

Finally, when Dottore made no move to leave, Pantalone looked up. “What is it? I have a week to prepare for the induction of the Eleventh. I don’t have time for petty complaints.”

Dottore should be insulted, he could feel his irritation rising at the man’s comment but he forced himself to push it away. He had more important things to deal with, notably, his soulmate and as much as he hated to admit it, Pantalone’s resources were necessary if he wanted to find her before someone else did… before she got herself and by extension, him, hurt.

“You offered me resources a few years ago,” Dottore finally said, watching Pantalone carefully for a reaction. “I would like them now.”

The Regrator was a sharp man. Dottore did not have to go into detail for purple eyes to flicker down to his thumb, where the red thread connected him to his soulmate. He watched as Pantalone’s brows furrowed, as he tried to figure out why the sudden change after years of Dottore denying her very existence to him.

“You have terrible timing, doctor,” Pantalone murmured, pushing the parchments aside as he leaned back in his seat to look up at Dottore. “My resources have been all but expended between the upcoming event and trying to track down that menace to the east who has been slaughtering our underlings.

Dottore’s lips twisted. “It is not my timing that is terrible,” he said coolly, Pantalone raised his eyebrows and Dottore exhaled. “It’s hers. I believe she is here. In Snezhnaya.”

Pantalone exhaled, turning his head to the side to look out the window. “That’s not good,” he murmured.

“I know that,” Dottore said shortly.

“Why not send one of your segments?” Pantalone asked after a moment, pen tapping against the wood of his desk in an unsteady manner that had Dottore’s eye twitching in annoyance.

“They’re busy,” Dottore answered tensely.

A lie. Both Epsilon and Rho were back in Snezhnaya City with nothing to do until Dottore decided what research he wanted them to continue on after finishing a round of successful experiments in Archon residue down in southern Liyue. Dottore just didn’t want to send them after her.

Epsilon was Epsilon. He could not trust that the segment wouldn’t do something foolish driven by the emotions that the rest of them did not have or were not capable of understanding. He was the one that Dottore worried about the most ever since the thread appeared, fearing that he would do something that would irreparably strengthen the bond… like forcing Dottore to meet her because he thought it would be best for them.

And Rho had been the one most vocal about at least letting the kids meet her and if the kids met her, he knew it would inevitably lead to Dottore meeting her and that was the last thing he wanted.

He had a feeling that Pantalone could read right through the excuse if the unimpressed look on his face had anything to say about it but Dottore did not waver, raising his chin and staring down at where the man was sitting.

“Unfortunately, I don’t have the resources to look for her right now,” Pantalone finally said, shaking his head and scooching his chair back to ruffle through one of the drawers of his desk. “If you can send one of your segments to take out the threat in the east, I might be able to conjure some up and have them keep an eye out but right now my hands are tied.”

“Fine,” Dottore said sharply. “Give me the information you’ve gathered. I’ll send a segment to track him down and kill him.”

Pantalone raised his eyebrows again, this time not even bothering to ask the question that Dottore knew was dancing through his mind: I thought your segments were busy, he could hear the mocking words just through the man’s expression.

Instead, Pantalone just slid a thick folder across the desk to give to Dottore. He snatched it and tucked it under his arm, intent on passing it off to Rho before he returned to his labs, waiting for Pantalone to confirm that he would look for her.

“We don’t want him dead. We want him captured,” Pantalone warned. “Pierro wants information from him… then I’ll convince him to pass him off to you. Another test subject, you’re welcome.”

Dottore only smiled thinly. “And the girl?” he pressed.

“I’ll do what I can,” Pantalone said. “What do you know about where she is? Western or Eastern Snezhnaya? The border? I need to be able to narrow down the search, I can’t send men all across Snezhnaya with the upcoming event. I need them in the city to prepare for the arrivals of the aristocrats.”

“I know that she is in Snezhnaya,” Dottore told him. Maybe he would know more if he would swallow his pride and reach out to her, but that simply was not an option.

Pantalone stared at him, irritation thinly veiled behind his purple eyes. “You do not like making things easy, do you?” the corners of Pantalone’s eyes crinkled in annoyance at Dottore’s words before he finally sighed, shaking his head.

“I’ll see what I can do,” he finally repeated, “but with nothing to go on, I can make no promises that I’ll find her before someone else does… so, for all of our sakes, I suggest you try to narrow that down.”

It was cold.

You knew that was something you should have expected and you thought you prepared adequately for it but now, you thought that no amount of preparation could have made you ready to face this. As soon as you had crossed over into Snezhnaya, the temperature had plummeted, the sheer cold was beyond anything you had ever felt before--cold enough to crack the stones of the buildings in the small villages littered throughout the countryside, cold enough to freeze you from the inside out.

Traveling during the night simply wasn’t feasible, as soon as the sun crossed the horizon, the already bone-chilling temperatures plunged further. You had been lucky the first night when you were traveling down the main road deeper into the northlands--you had bumped into an older man traveling back to his home from the one of the villages, he had ushered you back to his place and he and his wife had looked after you, warning you that you wouldn’t live through the night without shelter in Snezhnaya.

Since then, it’d been a game of survival. The deeper you got into Snezhnaya, the more winding and confusing the roads became, the harder it became to track down villages to find inns to stay at and the more nervous it made you about finding shelter for the night. You thought that Snezhnaya was a trap laid out for foreigners, only those who were born and raised there knew how to navigate the lands without meeting an untimely end.

The tundra of the east appeared endless, a daunting venture you dared not make, and the forests of the west were dark and maze-like with dangerous creatures prowling about and the threat of getting lost and not making it to an inn before night fell was high… but the forest was the only way through to the mountain range south of the Snezhnayan capital city. If you wanted to get to the heart of the Fatui, you would have to trek through the forest and pray you stumbled upon one of the villages before the sunset.

You exhaled, leaning back in your seat at the bar of the inn you were staying at as you swirled your empty glass between your fingers. You had reached the end of the main road, the only way further into Snezhnaya was through the forest now but the thought of entering it made you anxious. A part of you thought you might be better off heading back home.

“Another?” the bartender questioned as he walked by you but you only shook your head, thanking him quietly as you remained lost in your own thoughts.

You couldn’t turn back. Not now, not yet. You had promised yourself and your father that you wouldn’t return home until you had ample evidence to bring this to court… unless you died trying to get it.

Your grandfather didn’t want you going north. He thought that no amount of evidence would be worth you risking your life for but you disagreed. You didn’t think there was any world in which you’d be able to live with yourself knowing you didn’t even try.

From the corner of your eye, you noticed that he was looking at you again--the man sitting at a table in the corner of the room. You couldn’t see his face, there was a hood masking it from view but you could feel his eyes on you, he’d been watching you for nearly thirty minutes now. A part of you wanted to confront him, grab your stuff and head over to his table and demand to know why he kept staring at you but… the more logical part of you knew you shouldn’t. You didn’t know why he was staring at you and all of the worst possibilities were running through your head:

Does he know what you’re here for?

Is he Fatui?

Is he planning on attacking you?

Your vision vibrated from where it was hidden beneath your cloak, warning you to prepare for a battle but you were not the battle type. You had never learned how to wield your vision in a combat manner and you didn’t know if he had a vision or not, you only knew that he had a large claymore set down on the seat next to him and all you had was a small blade that couldn’t even be called a sword. You had only learned to use your vision in the way your father and grandfather taught you when you were younger and it was not something you enjoyed doing to people.

Finally, you forced yourself to stand up. Your gaze caught the window on the far end of the room as you rose to your feet--it was dark already, night had fallen and the hazard of the cold had become even more real.

With a sharp inhale, you turned on your heel to make your way over to the table the man was sitting at. You watched as his head turned to follow you as you approached him and you watched as his body tensed, gloved fingers gripping the edge of the table tight as you slid onto the bench across from him.

“Is there a reason you keep staring at me?” you finally asked. You leaned back against the wall that the bench was placed against, feigning ease, but your legs were tense, ready to move at the first sign of an attack.

“You’re not from here,” the man said after a moment of silence, you caught a glimpse of red beneath the hood he wore. His accent was foreign--unlike the Snezhnayan dialect you’d become used to throughout your travels.

“Neither are you,” you retorted. He shifted back in his seat, the lighting of the inn revealing equally red hair hanging in his eyes, cold and empty with something dark thinly veiled behind them that made your skin crawl--eyes that had witnessed massacre, eyes that promised vengeance. Vengeance for what? You didn’t know. You weren’t sure you wanted to know, you knew it would lead to nothing good.

You suddenly felt as if you had made a mistake.

“There aren’t many foreigners this deep in Snezhnaya,” he noted cooly. “Just merchants… are you a merchant?”

Somehow, you felt as if ‘yes’ was the wrong answer.

He was accusing you of something, you could feel it in your bones but you didn’t know what he was accusing you of. Being a spy? Was he Fatui?

“I’m not a merchant,” you said, taking in a small puff of air when you caught the blood smeared across the man’s chin and neck as the hanging lights in the middle of the tavern swayed a bit. His lips pressed together subtly at your words and your vision was becoming even more erratic--danger, danger, danger, it warned you.

Somehow, you knew now that ‘no’ had been the wrong answer too.

“It’s hard traveling through Snezhnaya without knowing what paths to take, you can get lost easily… all of the paths on the old maps have been snowed out,” he responded. “How’d you make do?”

“An older couple living off the main road pointed me in the right direction,” you told him. “How about you? Are you a merchant?”

You knew he wasn’t. No merchant traveled with blood staining their faces and a weapon the size of the average person. He had no goods that he had arrived with, he’d shown up at the inn a little after you had with only his sword in tow and his eyes were unfriendly and glacial, unlike the faux charisma that painted the expressions of merchants as they tried to get you to buy their products.

The man stared at you for a moment and then he said, “No,” with no further explanation.

The Fatui usually traveled in groups or as pairs. He had a foreign accent. He wore no mask or sigil that affiliated him with the organization as they usually did. Who the hell was he?

And then you remembered the hushed whispers of the elderly couple you had stayed with--warning you that the Fatui had become more active in their area because of a belligerent wreaking havoc throughout central Snezhnaya who had been spotted at a nearby inn. They told you to take care because they didn’t think that the Fatui would take kindly to any outsider in the area so long as the hostile remained terrorizing their strongholds but…

Was this…?

You watched him carefully, trying to figure it out without having to ask. You were several miles from where you had been staying with them now and it had been two and a half days. Traveling through Snezhnaya was slow and arduous, the wind fought you with every step and half of the time you were dragging yourself through snow that reached your knees.

If this was him, then maybe…

You didn’t even have a chance to finish the thought, head snapping to the side as the door to the inn slammed open and cold air rushed through the tavern at the entrance, blowing out half of the candles keeping the room lit up. Your stomach churned uncomfortably and from the corner of your eye, you watched as the man you were sitting with reached for his weapon.

Who the hell was traveling in the dead of night?

Your throat felt tight as you watched another hooded figure step into the inn. You couldn’t make out his features in the dim lighting, you couldn’t even tell if he was armed or not but there was an odd vial that glowed blue even in the dark hanging from his right ear.

The bartender had paused in making a drink for one of the other patrons of the tavern, a wary look visible on his face that you caught as the chandelier swung dangerously beneath a harsh wind. You let out a shaky breath, the cold from outside was already creeping beneath your cloak and freezing your skin. You wondered why no one was shouting at him to close the damn door like they did to other people who arrived until the bartender finally spoke up, voice shaky:

“Lord Harbinger,” he breathed out. “How can I-”

The man’s head turned in your direction--no, you realized, not your direction, his--and that was the only warning you got before the world around you exploded.

The entire right side of his body felt like it was on fire. Dottore let out a spew of curses as his hand spasm and he dropped the vial he had been studying right to the ground, watching as the glass shattered and the silvery liquid splattered all over the floor, dissolving the tiles and eating through the ground.

Dottore exhaled, briefly shutting his eyes before looking down at the mess on the floor. His lips twisted in annoyance as he realized he was going to have to restart what he had been testing but the annoyance very quickly faded, instead shifting into confusion as the pain persisted. His gaze drew over to his arm--nothing was wrong with it on the surface level but it was a blinding type of pain that had him gritting his teeth, like a jagged blade was tearing through his bicep.

It was…

He hadn’t felt anything from her in nearly two weeks. No anxiety, no fear, no anger or sadness and certainly not any pain. He stared down at his arm, where the pain was coming from, and not for the first time since the accursed thread showed up, Dottore had no idea what to do. He thought that he should reach out to her, figure out what was going on and get a general idea of where she was so he could send one of his segments to find her. The pain was more than anything he had ever experienced through her and he wasn’t sure if it was just because she had a low pain tolerance and he was feeling what she was, or if it was because the pain was actually that bad.

Neither boded well for her.

But if he reached out to her, if she was fighting someone, it could distract her.

Dottore’s teeth grit together. He didn’t know what would happen to him or the segments if she died. He didn’t know how it would affect them. Logically, he thought it shouldn’t affect them at all. They hadn’t met her yet and if the bond worked anything like how they believed it did, it shouldn’t take effect until after they met, which wasn’t going to happen… but after two weeks of silence, Dottore was unsure. Every day that passed, an odd, unfamiliar feeling expanded through his chest. He didn’t know how to describe it besides overwhelming and unwelcome but he knew it was because of her silence and the lack of communication through the bond. It caused an emptiness that made him question everything they had learned about the bond.

And if mere silence could cause that, he wasn’t sure he wanted to risk knowing what her death would cause.

Are you okay?

He asked it before he could decide against it, taking a seat back down at the lab table he had been working at as he waited for a response. Each second felt like an eternity, he could hear the silver liquid still eating through the ground below, sizzling and cracking as the floor dissolved wherever it touched the substance.

He wondered if she would just ignore him like he did to her for years on end.

But then, his forearm stung--a familiar feeling that he hadn’t experienced in two weeks now. He hated how that empty feeling he hadn’t been able to get rid of since he had pushed her away immediately disappeared. It made him feel weak… as if he had no control over his own emotions like a puppet on a string being commanded by a stranger. He glanced down at his arm, red eyes flying over the words that had appeared.

Does it feel like I’m okay?

At once, he rolled his eyes, regretting reaching out to her. He rose to his feet again, pacing across the room to get the tools he needed to clean the mess of his mistake but before he even got halfway there, the pain tripled and a creeping fear began to spread through his chest. He grimaced as he leaned on a nearby counter, trying to regain control over himself but he found that he couldn’t--her fear and pain was simply too intense.

What happened?

He slid down against the counter he was leaning on until he was sat on the floor. He watched the silvery liquid from the corner of his eye, watching as it ate through the ground closer and closer to him as he waited for a response from her. He despised how he couldn’t compartmentalize her feelings. He had learned how to separate them from his and the other segments but he had never figured out how to store them away and convert them into something that was easier for him to process.

Attacked.

Dottore felt cold. His gaze drew over to the window on the opposite wall of his lab--it was dark out, the sun had long set and the wind was harsh. He wondered if the coldness was a result of the damning realization that she was in trouble or if it was because she was outside. Either way, Dottore needed to act--if she was still being attacked, he had to get one of the segments there and if she was stuck in the cold running after being attacked, she would die to nature.

Dottore tried to push away the rising anger--the fury that never failed to appear whenever he was put into an impossible situation because of this bond, whenever he felt like the gods were looking down at him and laughing as he played right into their sick games.

Who attacked you? Where are you?

He shot out questions to her at a rapid speed, the pain was getting worse on his end. He could feel a light-headedness and a fuzzy feeling beginning to seep through his body and mind. She had to be losing blood and too much of it. If she passed out, that would be the end. She’d be killed by the attacker or she’d be killed by the cold, there was no other fate that awaited her.

Don’t know. An inn at -------

Dottore stared at the indecipherable words branded onto his forearm--he wasn’t sure if they were scribbles or an ancient language that he just couldn’t understand, another way for the gods to laugh at him by dangling the answer wants right in front of his face but making it so that he couldn’t understand it.

What do you mean you don’t know? Figure it out.

Dottore wondered if she could sense his irritation at her response. He didn’t really care if she could, maybe it would make her think harder.

Fatui, finally scrawled itself on his forearm and Dottore thought he might want to throw something because he had called it the moment that he had realized she might be coming north, he knew that between her being a foreigner and their subordinates being anxious over the masked hostile running through their camps that something would happen. They called him Lord Harbinger.

Dottore stared at the words trying to piece together what was going on. Lord Harbinger? Pulcinella and Pantalone were rarely, if ever, sent on missions that would end in combat. As far as he was aware, Brighella was at Zapolyarny Palace working with Pierro on something. Capitano was traveling north from Natlan for the initiation of the new Harbinger in a few days, he’d be on a boat traveling the western sea. Scaramouche? It could-

He had a blue earring, it was bright.

A blue earring, he was acutely aware of the one hanging from his own ear, mind racing as he tried to remember where each of the segments were. Lambda and Theta were in Sumeru. Zeta was in Mondstadt. Delta and Iota were on the Fontaine border. Gamma, Epsilon and Kappa were all hanging around his labs.

Rho, it dawned on Dottore suddenly. He had sent the segment south to track down the belligerent because their subordinates had proved incapable. He had mentioned that he was closing in on the man. Had she gotten caught in the crossfire? Was she traveling with him?

No, that wasn’t possible. All reports had claimed that the hostile was traveling alone.

Rho, Dottore spit out, reopening the connection with the segment, intent on having him find the girl and drag her back across the border into Fontaine. Where are you?

Not now, Rho responded, voice cold and angry. It took a lot to anger Rho, he had tight control over his temper unlike the Theta and Delta segments. Dottore could feel something stinging his cheek, a cut--he wondered if the hostile had actually managed to land a blow on him, no matter how small. It would explain why he was so angry.

Get back to where you came from. Now.

Now? Rho demanded, livid. I’m on him.

She was there. At the inn. The reaction was instantaneous as Rho’s resolve wavered. If she dies because of you, you won’t even get the relief of deactivation.

Dottore rose to his feet again once he was certain that Rho had turned back, pacing across the length of his lab, careful to step over the melted ground where the substance had fallen.

Once he found her, this would all be over. He’d have Rho bring her back to Fontaine whether she liked it or not, and once he knew where she lived, he’d make sure to send one of the other segments to keep an eye on her so something like this would never happen again.

Finally, he would have some semblance of control over the bond for the first time since it appeared. He’d no longer be hanging onto her whims, he’d no longer have to stress about her getting herself hurt or killed and how it would affect him, he’d no longer be bound to this mess and he’d never have to worry about accidentally running into her because the segment would keep her confined to the city and he would stay far from it.

He’d send the Zeta segment. He couldn’t send Theta because he didn’t trust him not to do something rash. He couldn’t send Delta, Rho or Epsilon because the younger segments were attached to them at the hip and they would press to meet her. Lambda was an option if he could ensure that the segment wouldn’t try to ‘handle her’ as he threatened to already.

Relief began to inch its way through him—too soon.

He had jinxed himself.

She’s not here, he heard Rho tell him. I don’t know-

Dottore closed the connection, biting back vile curses as he pressed his fingers to the bridge of the nose and tried to think.

Where could she have gone? It had only been a few minutes. She was hurt. She couldn’t have gotten far.

Where are you? He finally decided to ask her and he waited, and waited, and waited for a response but was only met with the empty silence he had become accustomed to the past two weeks.

“Where am I?”

Your eyes followed the cloaked figure carefully, trying to keep your breath steady as the pain coursing through your arm gradually subsided. Your gaze flickered to the side, watching as the red, bubbling skin of your right arm began to smooth and clear beneath whatever substance that had been smeared over the burns.

“What is this stuff?”

You had a lot of experience with using elemental energy to heal wounds. Fontaine City had some of the best medics throughout Teyvat--Wriothesley’s family’s special trait could call upon hydro energy to heal even the most fatal and grievous of wounds. He had never been able to wield it the way his family wanted him to but his grandfather was the best of the best, he had helped you when you had broken your arm and leg ten years ago after falling down the steps of the clocktower when exploring with Wrio.

This was not elemental energy. It was odd and cool, like gelatin, but it worked as fast as any medic--in no time, the pain was gone and the burns had vanished, leaving the skin of your arm unblemished again.

“Old magics,” the person responded. Their voice was low, androgynous. You couldn’t tell if it was a man or woman.

“Why did you help me?” you asked. “Who are you?”

You didn’t know where you were now--it was a dark room, a stone building with a fireplace on the opposite wall. The last you remembered, you had been in the snow. You had started to lose consciousness, the cold and the pain too much for your body to bear. You could barely even remember what had happened: you could picture the hooded man who you had been sitting with brandishing his claymore and the man that they had called Lord Harbinger meeting him blade for blade, pale fire coating his weapon and eating away at the wood of the inn, burning through your cloak down to the skin. You could hear the screams of the other patrons of the inn as they got caught in the crossfire of the battle between the two men.

And then you were here, in this room… with this person.

“Who are you?” you demanded, more insistently this time when you didn’t get a response.

Finally, a reaction from them. The flames flickered across their face as they turned to face you and finally, you got a glimpse beneath the hood… but it was not a human face that stared back at you. It was a mask, dark with a spade-like pattern around the eyes, a smile painted onto the plastic.

“No one,” they replied, “just a trouper.”

What? You thought to yourself, confused. Your nose wrinkled and your brows furrowed as you mulled over the word. A trouper? Like the entertainers at the Grand Theater?

“Why did you help me?” you tried again, raising your chin to meet the two voids in the eyeholes of the mask. They hadn’t tried to bind you or restrict your movement, they hadn’t even taken your weapon--just a bit of concentration and you could put yourself in control of the situation.

They tilted their head to the side, you couldn’t see their eyes or expression but you knew they were smiling, “Is that how you treat someone who saved you?”

You hadn’t even moved, you stared at them, unmoving, forcing your body to relax. How had they known what you were thinking? You weren’t a person that was easy to read--if you were, you would’ve been put on trial for treason a long time ago.

“Why did you save me?” you asked slowly, not letting them get out of answering the question.

“Because I want to help you.”

Yet again, they evaded the question. Your lips twisted in frustration, “Why?”

“Because I think we can help each other.”

There it was, you recognized, taking in a sharp breath. They wanted something from you. The air around you suddenly felt cold, as if the fire across the room had been snuffed out even though it was still burning bright. They were eerily still, almost like a statue as they watched you, waiting for a reaction.

“Why do you think that?” you asked carefully.

“Do you really think you can infiltrate the Fatui on your own?”

You were on your feet in an instant, reaching for the blade sheathed at your side but your eyes widened when you realized it wasn’t there. You only had half of a second to react before you found yourself backed up against the wall, a forearm pressed to your throat and the tip of your own blade pressed to your side, threatening to puncture the skin.

It had just been on you. How did they get it?

“Well?”

Well what? You wanted to scream, mind panicked and racing as you tried to force yourself to calm down and think but it was hard to concentrate with your air being half-restricted and a blade pressed to your ribcage.

They wanted you to answer their question, you realized, about infiltrating the Fatui.

“Yes,” you said but you weren’t even sure you believed it yourself. You kept telling yourself that you would figure out a plan once you got to the city and had a scope of the area and more information available to you but you had a feeling that nothing would change even once there. Zapolyarny Palace would be impenetrable.

“How?” they murmured, not letting up on you. You wanted to turn your face away, unnerved by the proximity of the mask, but you thought that would show you as weak and you couldn’t afford to show weakness, not right now. “Do you plan to storm the palace? Face the Harbingers and demand retribution for your father? Do you think you will fly under the radar of the Knave’s webs of spiders? That you can simply walk past the automatons of the Marionette prowling the streets of the capital city? You will find yourself a victim of the Doctor’s twisted experiments or the Friar’s sick games before you even hope to find the evidence you seek.”

You couldn’t mask your expression, not after hearing that. You stared at them, lips parting as if to speak but no words left them. You felt like a fish out of water--for the first time in a long time, you were fumbling for words, your tongue felt twisted and heavy.

How were you going to do it? The question laid atop you like a crown of thorns, tearing through your skin and scarring your face. You didn’t know. You didn’t know how you were going to do it. You used not being in the city as an excuse, convinced yourself that it was the only reason you haven’t thought up a plan yet but the truth was branded right on your face as you stared at the masked person: you simply didn’t know.

“I can help you,” they whispered, leaning in impossibly closer. “I can give you your in, the chance you need to find the proof.”

“How do you know all of this?” you finally asked and you hated how your voice cracked over your words but you were scared because if this person knew all of this then it could spell your end, just like that. All they had to do was send word to the Fatui and you’d have hell bearing down on your doors.

And if they knew about this…

“I know a lot,” they said cryptically. “Would you like me to help you?”

… did they know about your soulmate?

You let out another shaky breath, staring ahead. You didn’t know what to do. If you didn’t accept their help, would they sell you out to the Fatui? Or would they laugh and watch as you fumbled your way through Snezhnayan courts and fail to acquire what you had traveled all this way for? You could feel the pain ricocheting through your head, you could barely even think straight, much less come up with an answer.

If you did accept, you finally forced your head back on track, what did they want in return? That was what you needed to know.

“What would you want in return?”

“We don’t know yet,” they said quietly but their tone was not hesitant--if anything, it was amused. Finally, they released you, taking a step back to watch you. The eyes staring down at you were empty, like looking into an abyss.

A dangerous, dangerous gamble. It gave them too much power.

“No, I want to know what you want in return.”

We. You suddenly recognized how they referred to themself--we, not I, they were not working alone. You felt all the more suffocated at the realization.

“Then I guess we have no deal,” they said with a sigh, making a move to leave the room the two of you were in. Your heart leapt to your throat. “I cannot tell you what we do not know. Take the deal as is or fail, you will not succeed without help. You have no way of getting into Zapolyarny Palace. It is impenetrable.”

You should take that as a challenge, tell them fuck off and make them watch as you succeeded. Your blood boiled at the condescending tone and it took all of your willpower to not snap at them.

This was not the time for pride. You had to abandon all vices and virtues if you were to get the evidence to condemn your stepfather, if you were to bring justice to your father… and if this person were to offer you the chance you desperately needed… then maybe it was worth whatever price they wanted you to pay in the long run.

Committing injustices in the name of justice, the thought rang through your head loud. Wrio would love the irony.

“You can get me into Zapolyarny?” you finally questioned, hiding the way your hands were shaking behind you as you sealed your fate.

They hummed in agreement, “You will be on your own once you’re in there. Take care not to anger the wrong people… or draw too much attention to yourself.”

You could do that, you told yourself. Once you got in, you needed to find a place. Weasel your way in as an attendant so you could search for the evidence you needed.

“Okay,” you finally agreed. The air suddenly felt heavy and oppressive, you thought that if you looked up, you would see the blade of a guillotine dropping on your neck. “Okay, we have a deal.”

You didn’t have to see their face to know that they were smiling, the voids staring down at you glimmered cruelly, you swore you saw red deep within the eyeholes of the mask.

“Welcome to the game, spadille.”

rbs appreciated!!

#dottore x reader #dottore smut #genshin x reader #genshin smut #dottore x you #genshin x you #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact smut #genshin impact x you

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scoobydoodean · 6 months

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#okay wait do y'all think that she wasn't going to try and murder Dean?#Do you think he was going to get through to her?#convince her somehow to not try to stab him?#that she was telling the truth at all in that scene?#because she was totally going to try and kill Dean#like 100% that was going to happen#and if Sam hadn't shot her then Dean would have had to kill her and that would have been so much harder on Dean#like it was disturbing that Dean had a 3 day old monster child that wanted to kill him but who was then killed by her uncle Sam instead#and even more disturbing that they then never mention her again#but these are also the guys who left their half brother in Lucifer's cage and didn't lose any sleep over it so...#and I love Dean but killing Amy was an asshole move#and there's kinda a difference between killing an active imminent threat and killing someone in cold blood after the fact @jinkieswouldyoulookatthis

I didn't want to clutter someone else's post but this was partially directed at me? I've talked about the whole "Emma vs Amy" debate quite a few times, but I'll share a few thoughts.

Amy is a present, unrepentant, fully cognizant, adult, serial murderer. She is not actually sorry about what she did in any way. She believes that slaughtering humans like cattle to feed them to her son was the morally correct action even if it wasn't the ethical action because it kept her son alive. She is not correct.

Emma is a brainwashed child who's been psychologically conditioned for a few days. She has never killed anyone and only wants to kill Dean because some women who abused her told her to.

Hunters like Sam and Dean primarily deal in punitive justice, not preventative justice—and what I mean by that is that Sam and Dean try not to kill people (with powers or without powers) who have never killed anyone.

While I think you're right to point out that a preventative justice component is in play, that is not primarily how Dean makes the decision to go after Amy, and the reason we know that is because Amy's son swears to kill Dean and Dean does nothing about it because the boy has done absolutely nothing wrong.

Dean's application of his personal code is consistent here. He kills Amy, who is a murderer who killed four people, but he does not intend to kill Emma or Amy's son—both of whom wanted to kill him—because neither has actually killed anyone and both may choose not to.

You say that Emma was going to kill Dean 100%, but you don't actually know that because we never got to see that future. You assume Amy would never have killed again, but when you add up "murderer who regrets absolutely nothing" and "child vulnerable to catching illnesses" you get "Mom who absolutely would kill again as necessary and who would feel zero remorse doing so just like the last time".

I don't personally think SPN gives us any reason to suspect that three days of psychological conditioning from a cult is too much to overcome. We have seen other characters overcome much more serious levels of psychological conditioning intended to make them killers. For example, Cas and Alex. I'm not saying Emma wasn't trying to pull the wool over Sam and Dean's eyes in the scene where Sam shot her, but I am saying that doesn't actually mean in any way that she couldn't be convinced to actually choose a different path.

Under the same litmus test with which you suggest Emma's condemnation, we'd also condemn season 2 Sam for his potential "future" crimes. We are killing monsters before they actually become those monsters... because of the dark path someone else intends for them to go down. Amy—again—is an active present unrepentant serial killer.

I think sometimes people misremember the scene where Sam kills Emma—recalling the scene as a scene where Emma lunges at Dean with the knife and Sam steps in just in time to save his life, or where Dean is unarmed and Emma has him at knife point. But that is not what happened. Emma quite literally brought a knife to a gun fight. Dean had a gun pointed at her, and if she was thinking straight at all, she would have left to avoid being killed if given the chance—especially when Sam arrived. And had she not, Sam could have shot her at that point—but Sam didn't wait to see what she'd do. He wanted her dead, because even if she ran, he didn't think they were equipped to deal with surprise attacks from Dean's Amazon child. That is the decision Sam made after a brief moment to consider, and it makes sense to me given the headspace he was in at the time and his assessment of Dean's headspace as well, but it does not make his decision consistent with his previous or future behavior regarding people who have been psychologically conditioned to kill.

My own frustrations are more with fandom, for a thought process that really really does not make sense to me, where Emma deserves to die but Amy deserved to live. I do not agree with that premise. I do not understand why so much of fandom has the perspective that a child who hadn't shed a drop of blood and who was acting in response to a cult's torture, who brought a knife to a gun fight and had already been driven into a corner where she had no choice but to surrender or run—doesn't deserve a chance to choose something else before she's barely lived and before she's heard a loving word in her entire life, but an adult with full cognizance of their actions who went through with killing four people and doesn't regret it should go on with their life and is "just a good mom doing what she had to" and killing that person is the bad thing. I don't understand that. I don't think Dean killing Amy was wrong at all in the "hunters kill supernatural murderers" show. The only thing Dean did wrong was lie about it and not take enough care to keep her son from seeing it happen.

#sams moral compass #deans moral compass #7.03 #7.13 #edit: I'll also be honest while I get where you get the “Sam wanted to spare Dean having to do that” interpretation #(especially with the earlier context of their fight in The Mentalist) I actually think... Sam makes it pretty clear after in the car #that he is furious Dean didn't stow his shit and shoot Emma before Sam even got there. 😬#season 7 #emma #amy

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ourserendipity · 2 months

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samsara of shattered dreams: past

(aventurine x gn!reader x dr. ratio) just some heads up, this happened before the whole penacony arc in the story. No Beta read 😎😎 (That's all I think lol. Anyways I'll be leaving for a while cuz I'll be busy and shiz 🥲🥲. hope y'all enjoyy✿) Part 1/3

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Memories. Like glass, they glisten the beauty reflected by the light giving its vivid colors, and yet they are oh so frail; like the fleeting flow of life, sudden yet steady at the same time.

✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧

Looking back, you wouldn't have thought that you would see yourself in this situation; not that you already foresaw your fate in the first place. Still, there's the feeling of regret lingering at the back of your mind; one that is not directed towards you but rather to the things that you've done. If only, if only you had the power to change the course of fate maybe this wouldn't have been necessary, if only one could stop the other's heart breaking perhaps goodbyes weren't needed to be said. But alas, destiny has its own ways and so now you are trapped, here in a samsara of endless possibilities, all from the past up to the future; all that is only but a dream yet to spur along with the branches of life.

You dance, you circle around the twinkling stars swimming along azure waters that reflect the night sky, following the roots of time ever so slowly growing, a future waiting to be born, its memories captured in the garden of recollection. Spin after spin, countless lightcones spawn in the vicinity of your eyes; an attempt to draw you unto them, delving into the memories of both the future and past once more. They all glimmer in your eyes, symbolizing its high importance to those who gaze at it, but truth be told, you didn't want to look at them anymore, not when you know you'll only hurt yourself in the process. Even then, you caress them over your palms ever so gently, cherishing the moments silently; actions do speak louder than words after all.

And now you wonder, will everything be alright? Now that the stars have finally collided, and so shall your encounter with death had arrived.

"Y/n... Y/N..."

"Aventurine-"

"They're... they're gone. They really are not here anymore, huh?" He whispers, tightly holding your cold, desolate body.

Despair was imminent in the thick air that engulfs the room as he desperately tries to hold back himself from tearing on the spot. He'd hate for the two of you to see him cry and be vulnerable; after all, didn't he tell you that he doesn't bet on the losing end?

And yet here he is: lo and behold, the winner of it all, stripping him of his own tears, his own freedom to be frail and weak, all just to keep himself at bay, and yet failing so miserably.

"......."

Only silence was heard across the room, rather, it was the only answer the genius could give him. Though not fitting his character, he believes that even he could not give the response the man wanted; needed even.

"There's no time left to mourn what's already gone, we should make haste." It was the only thing he could reply. He knew he had to give him an answer somehow, else the man's insanity would escalate even further.

".....leave.."

"what?"

"leave me alone, I... I'll follow you after a while, just please let me be," he pleads achingly, as if he is almost breaking into the point of oblivion.

Utter brokenness was the only thing he heard upon Aventurine's response. And that alone already tells him that

You wished it wouldn't have been sooner, that you could stay just a little bit longer. And so you fought, no, you ran, you ran along with them in the dark in hopes of outrunning time but to no avail. In the end, you still had to go, regret trailing alongside your eyes brimming with tears.

"Hey no fair! that's my share Aventurine!"

"Not when you say please~"

"Such prudence... Will you two stop the act already?"

"Ooh so scary, Mr. Alabaster head~" you tease, obviously trying to mock him and his antics.

"Indeed. I wonder, where is that handsome bust of yours? You don't seem to wear it as much anymore~" Aventurine coos, whilst holding the bag of candies on his right hand, with you struggling on the other hand, trying to reach the said bag from him.

He scoffs upon hearing the blonde's remarks, though what he was saying is true. If he were to be honest, he doesn't see the two of you as an idiot, but he wouldn't openly admit it to both of you, not with his pride and ego of course. Sighing, he knocks the blonde's head lightly, making the guy dramatically wince in pain.

"ow, that hurts y'know?" he cries all the while you were there, stifling a laughter trying not to laugh at his obvious acting.

It was just a simple day for the three of you in the IPC and yet at that moment, everything felt light; it felt as if the three of you were simply living in your own world, rightfully so. It felt so comforting, like a dream you wish that will never end. But then...

All those years of endless banter, the fondness of even the simplest of times; both good and bad, and them, the two of which you truly had loved with all of your heart, the stars you thought you would never reach; but you did, ever so effortlessly. To think that fate had allowed for the three of you to meet is a miracle from the aeons themselves. And despite their clashing personalities, the pointless arguments they dare not speak of, the past one does not wish to return to, you made it work somehow, like fixing the broken pieces of a broken glass only to be shattered again, all because of that stupid, cruel thing called fate. But somehow, you found yourself here in the samsara, reborn from the memories that you hold, now with a new purpose; to collect and to preserve new memories once more, in hopes of retaining what's for the future to hold on to when the time comes. And now that you have regained life in a different form, perhaps you could go back to the real world, to raise a bud anew, in that beautifully miserable place. And perhaps you could meet them again, not letting go of any opportunity given to you, to build a new bridge, to finally reconnect the three of you once more, all for a better future.

"May the cosmos guide you to the path of the unknown, my beloved stars. "

to be continued......

xx/xx/xxxx

xx:xx

From: ■■■■■■■

To: ■■■■■■■■■■, ■■■■■■■■■■

✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧

To Aventurine

"To my dearest gambler, blessed upon the gaze of Gaiathra. I simply bestow to you my full adoration and longing. The unknown may hold us captive in our own, but we shall be the winners who'll decide the results; and it seems like it in your side, to which I could only pray for its continuous flow. I am truly humbled by your guts and wits, my dear. But despite it all, I could feel the lingering despair each time you gamble your life away. So to you I offer this humble gift; a gift of life and new comings. Never forget, you are Kakavasha, born from the bright yellow star, blessed by abundant luck and fortune. May you walk upon this newly lit path of destiny, along with him and what's left of us. "

To Ratio

"To my favorite scholar, truly a genius amongst geniuses. I could only stare in awe upon all of the achievements you have gotten. I may not be as potent as your vast amounts of knowledge nor do I reach the same standards as you do, but please be reminded that there are things that even the smartest revolutionists simply could not have a grasp of. And even if it seems that one's passing is but a swift gust of wind in your eyes, I could tell: the moment my drifting eyes meet yours, those eyes of yours are telling otherwise. So please, be a little bit nicer to them next time. You may never know; that in the future, he will be in your saving grace, hoping that you'll spare him the sympathy that he truly needs. "

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#hsr aventurine #aventurine honkai star rail #aventurine x reader #aventurine x you #hsr #hsr x reader #honkai star rail #hsr dr ratio #dr ratio x reader #aventurine x reader x dr. ratio #dr ratio x reader x aventurine

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tropicalcryptid · 1 month

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Ok y'all I have a confession.

...Tigerheart/star is my favorite living warrior cats character and I'm tired of pretending he isn't XD

He was a questionable boyfriend, but he's an excellent husband, father, and leader. He's far more like Firestar than Bramblestar ever was. He's proactive and is willing to break rules for what he believes is right. He gave up territory for SkyClan when no other Clan would. He willingly takes in and shelters cats who are unfairly banished from their own clans--Icewing, Harelight, Mothwing, and most recently Frostpaw (geez RiverClan). He will go to any lengths to protect ShadowClan and especially his children--but he seems truly motivated by love and not a desire for power. He takes amazing care of Shadowsight and stands by him constantly. Most recently, his "invasion" of RiverClan was shown to be 1) actually necessary, and 2) he did, in fact, keep his promise and back out when his conditions were met.

His decisions aren't always the *best,* but he's motivated and active (and delightfully meddlesome) in a way that no leader since Firestar has been. I LOVE that. I love him! Big stupid hot-headed well-meaning stripey man! Go invade RC again and kick Splashtail's, well, tail! <3

Also! ASC! You made ShadowClan the best clan how did that happen??? I'm so mad that Sunbeam is in ThunderClan now because I don't caaaaaaaare about TC lol I want more SC perspective.

So this is a lineup of my fav cats from the current arc: Whistlepaw (your honor I love her), Frostpaw (you're doing amazing girl, sorry about all the trauma), Icewing (hopefully next leader of RC come on WC team), Fringewhisker (full-time ass-kicker), Tigger boy <3, Shadowsight (my poor bby you're so good), Puddleshine (when did you get to be such a likeable character?), Bayshine (what a bro, seriously), and Harelight (we stan a supportive mentor, sorry about "Wind" buddy).

Honestly ASC is great so far. Can't wait for the finale. Also let the lesbian medicine cats kiss omg. I don't really bother shipping warrior cats because *gestures wildly* but nah, Whistlepaw and Frostpaw are the cutest lesbians and you can't tell me the "It was all worth it if it was for you" conversation in "Wind" WASN'T the most sapphic thing ever. Break ALL the boundaries girls be BOTH gay *and* nuns. We stan.

#warrior cats #warriors #a starless clan #frostpaw #tigerheart #tigerstar #whistlepaw #icewing #Fringewhisker #harelight #bayshine #shadowsight #Puddleshine #My art #cats #wc #wc art #Asc

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froggyfics · 8 months

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The Deadliest Poisons Are The Sweetest - 5

Your wedding day arrives.

Note: (09/15/23) PLEASE READ THE PREVIOUS CHAPTER. If you have read this series before this date, please note that I have combined chapters 1 and 2 together. This may seem confusing, but I have decided that as a creative approach, I would like the chapters to be longer. Therefore, the original chapter 4 is now chapter 3. Chapter 4 is new. This chapter and beyond are up to date.

Btw y'all it's gonna get saucy in the next chapter lmao

Feedback is always appreciated. Feel free to message me privately or comment below to let me know what you think. Constructive criticism is always welcome!

Word Count: 4,844

This is the closest you’ve been with him in weeks. The intimacy of the moment is warped however, with underlying feelings of inadequacy.

This is your wedding day. Yet, you feel as though you are imposter. You can feel the red-hot glares of the jealous maidens in the crowd. After all, you are marrying the most eligible bachelor in the entire realm. If only they knew that you felt sick to your stomach, and you wished that they were in your place.

You don’t even look him in the eyes. You stare at his mouth, as if you needed to do so in order to understand the vows.

“I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. I will love you and honor you all the days of my life.”

No, you won’t, you say to yourself. You led me to believe that we could be more, but you tricked me!

He places a ring on your finger. Your hand suddenly feels like it’s weighed down by a ton of bricks. You nearly choke on your vows as they stumble out of you. When you arrived in Gotham a month ago, you were admittedly excited for this day. However, Damian’s icy demeanor as of late has left you bitter. How could it be possible to be so close with someone one day, and then completely cold the next. It befuddled you. Damianbefuddled you.

Your vows were sealed with a chaste kiss. Cheers and whoops erupted from the crowd. Through the noise, you could distinctly hear your father’s booming claps and mother’s animated laughs. Of course they were happy! Their daughter was married off – to a prince no less. Your marriage ensured a lifetime of stability and wealth for them. Not bad for a baron and baroness.

You wobble to the great hall for the wedding banquet with Damian’s hand clasped in your own. It wasn’t your choice to make physical contact – he was the one that initiated.

“Weddings are the end of their lives as they know it. The beginning of a prison sentence. The end of youth.”

This is an act. You must admit, if acting was a respectable career choice, Damian would be a top-notch performer. The vows meant nothing. The kiss was expected. The hand holding was necessary for the performance.

You sat right next to your husband. Aristocrats, both strangers and now familiar faces, approach to wish glad tidings upon you and Damian. You accept their kind words as politely as you can. All the while, you twist your ring, round and round, underneath the table.

You light up when Rachel approaches the table. A genuine smile finally crosses your face.

“Lady Rachel!” you call out excitedly.

You jump when you feel Damian’s presence near your ear.

“How do you know of Lady Rachel?” he asks.

You gape at him while Rachel curtsies shyly. His question is not shocking – you chalk it up to mere curiosity. It’s the fact that he’s talking…to you! Willingly. And the conversation does not revolve around simple greetings or pleasantries.

You can’t even answer him. Anger bubbles inside of you. He almost completely ignores you for four weeks and now suddenly acts like you should be receptive to his conversation. You have half a mind to ignore him in favor of speaking to Rachel. However, the ring sits heavy on your finger, and you suddenly remember your place.

He is now your husband. He is the heir to the throne. If there is anyone you should hold your tongue towards, it’s him.

“We met one week ago,” you reply. Rachel beams at you while you recount how you met her.

“We’ve only become closer and closer, day by day.” You hold your hand towards her, and she takes it affectionately.

“The princess is right,” Rachel adds. “It is almost like we have known each other our entire lives.”

Damian speaks only after he gulps his entire drink quickly. “Well, wife,” he emphasizes when he grabs your hand, “I am glad you have made a friend in Gotham.”

He smiles menacingly. You can tell by the way his lips unnaturally stretch over his teeth and the reddening of his face.

Rachel glances at your conjoined hands and clears her throat. “Well, I just wanted to say that I wish for the two of you to be happy.” She raises her cup and you raise yours with your other hand in support.

“To the happy couple,” she concludes. The edge of the cup reaches her lips, but she does not drink. She instead curtsies once more and disappears among the crowd of people.

As soon as she leaves, Damian releases your hand, wiping his palm on his pants as if you were a leper. You clench your teeth so hard that they squeak in retaliation. You manage to take deep breaths to calm yourself – in and out, in and out, in and out. It’s truly an act for him.

Everyone looks to be so happy. Not for you, of course not. They are happy for their own selfish reasons. Guests are fed the most delicious food and drink that the realm has to offer. Your parents rub elbows with highly ranked aristocrats. Your siblings dance merrily along the aisles. King R’as laughs heartedly a few seats away from Damian while speaking to his friends. Even Talia seems to be in a cheerful mood, scarfing down her food.

Perhaps you can attempt to be happy, too. It is your wedding day after all. You inhale deeply to gather confidence.

“Husband.”

Damian doesn’t acknowledge you.

You clear your throat and repeat yourself once more.

He doesn’t even look up from his plate.

“Damain!” you half-shout.

His head shoots up immediately. “Yes, wife?”

You want to punch him in the throat. His polite tone seems genuine, but it sounds fake to your ears.

“Are you…” You scan the great hall. “Are you enjoying the festivities?”

He nods his head slowly like he has trouble understanding your question. “Quite.” He returns to his plate.

You growl, but say no more. After all, there is no point making a concerted effort at conversation now when you apparently have the rest of your life to do so. You might as well take what little enjoyment you have now and ignore the glaring loneliness that dwells within you.

The wedding took place at noon, but the reception continues well past sunset. You did not even know that there existed so much food in the entire city. Drinks flowed like a river all night long. Some people fell asleep in their seats, despite the rambunctious behaviors of others. Some people danced and danced until you thought their feet would fall off.

You remain glued to your seat nearly the entire reception. There were a few moments where you stretched your feet, such as when the guests stacked cakes on top one another, so that you and Damian could kiss over them. You managed to peck each other’s lips without the cakes collapsing to the ground, which made the audience break out into cheers. After all, if the cakes fell, it symbolized bad luck for your marriage.

As if you needed any more of that already.

The reception seemed like it would never end. Your posture slowly deteriorated over the hours, until you were slumped in your chair. Muscle aches began to surface for sitting for so long. You wanted the night to be over.

“Damian!” R’as called.

Damian pushes the table to make room to get up. He travels just a few feet farther to his grandfather who whispers something in his ear. Whatever was said made Damian stiffen and glance at you.

You suddenly develop that prickly feeling when you feel like someone is talking about you. Damian’s glance made you certain that you were the subject of their conversation. The realization made you shift in your seat. You decide to study the wooden table to distract yourself from your insecurity.

A tap on your shoulder breaks your concentration. You find Damian looking down at you with a stoic expression. As usual, you can never determine what he’s thinking.

“Follow me,” he bluntly says.

He doesn’t move an inch and you don’t realize until a few moments later that he expects you to get up first. You push yourself from the table and slowly stand up. You’ve been sitting for so long that your knees crack upon straightening.

Damian maneuvers you so that you remain in front of him. He’s mere inches behind you and his hands fix themselves to your waist. He pushes you forward, directing you towards the door.

The once lively room suddenly quiets down, until cheers are erupted once more.

You peer behind you to see that nearly everyone is looking directly at you. Men are jeering, throwing their hands in the air. Your father kisses your mother’s forehead while she blows a kiss towards you. Women are clapping obnoxiously. You face forward once again in mortification when you realize that they are cheering for your consummation. Everyone knows that you are walking out the hall a virgin – only to become a true wife by tomorrow.

You look back again, scanning the crowd for Rachel. She has been one of the few sources of support you’ve had as of late. You just want to look at her, to search for comfort in her eyes. You find her violet eyes eventually, only for your humiliation to turn into sadness. Her eyes do not necessarily brim with tears, but they are certainly glossy.

You give her a comforting smile as the door to the hall opens.

Don’t be sad for me, you want to say to her, but the door of the hall closes before your message can be relayed through your eyes.

Damian continues pushing you from behind through the castle. You are eventually brought to an all-too familiar, yet unfamiliar room.

It certainly has changed since you were in here last, all those years ago. Damian’s room still exudes extravagance, worthy of an heir. However, small details have changed.

There are several arms-related items laying around. A full armor suit sits at the corner of the room. Several weapons – swords, axes, morning stars – are hung on the walls. Papers are strewn across the room. They’re on his desk and dresser and end tables. Most importantly, the room feels larger than it did when you were a child. Well, that was probably due to the fact that you felt smaller now than you did then.

The door behind you slams shut. You jump in surprise at the loud noise and see Damian leaning on the door.

You hate it. You hate that you feel so nervous. It’s all too much. This room brings back happy memories that you cannot – should not – dredge up in fear of living in the past. You stand in a room, alone, for the first with someone known as your husband. Someone who is actually a stranger to you still. You can’t help but look down. It may be due to submission or shyness; you’re not entirely sure. All you know is that your girlhood has officially ended, and adulthood is crashing upon you.

You see his shoes from your peripheral. He stands toe-to-toe with you. You can’t bear to look him in the face. No good could come from falling for those green eyes.

He cautiously raises his hands to your waist. You grow numb as he removes your belt. Your dress puffs out into a shapeless blob.

He grabs your shoulder and turns you around, your back facing him. You can feel your dress loosening as he undoes your corset, one string at a time. Your breathing quickens at the intimacy of the act. You’ve had maybe two decent conversations with this man, and now, he has full access to your body. The discomfort makes you twitch.

“Raise your arms,” he commands. And you listen. He reaches down to hem of your dress, and pulls upward. You become blind momentarily until your dress is fully removed, and all that remains is your paltry smock. You feel overexposed. Your shoulders, arms, and legs are bare. Bare! You instinctively cover yourself the best you can with your arms, but Damian, while still behind you, firmly grabs your forearms to place them at your side. You gasp when he places a quick kiss on the back of your head.

You remain stuck in place despite hearing the crumpling of clothes behind you and await for Damian to direct you. There’s a creak, and several more creaks, and the crinkling of sheets.

“Come.”

You turn around and are met with a shirtless Damian, already beneath the sheets. He pats the unoccupied space next to him, and you follow his orders. You slink underneath the sheets and lay flat on your back, burning holes into the ceiling. The only sounds that could be heard is your breathing and the crackle of the fireplace.

You await for his orders once more. And wait. And wait. And wait some more, even as he slips completely underneath the sheets completely. From your peripheral vision, you can see that he turns his back towards you. You bite your lips nervously and you dare lift your arm up in an attempt to touch him.

“Good night.”

His words make your arm drop back down onto the mattress. The finality of his words make you close your eyes. There is nothing to do, nothing to expect. He is an actor, and you are at the whim of his play.

The extinguished fire from the fireplace doesn’t wake you. Neither does the blearing sun peeking from behind the curtains. What does wake you are the stomps of your ladies-in-waiting.

Your eyelids instantly open, the crust that developed during the night making it difficult at first.

“Princess, it is time to wake,” Matilda says in a voice that it all too loud this early in the morning. She wretches the curtains open and sunlight streams in. You hiss at the light, still walking the line between unconsciousness and alertness.

Joan grabs your shoulders and heaves you into a sitting position. In a militaristic approach, Joan, Matilda, and Honora perform your morning routine. You’ve had a month to adjust to their “help”, but it has only become slightly easier to tolerate their grubby hands and rude shoves. You can only say – Ouch! – so many times until you realize they do not care if they cause you pain. You are a job for them. They may be your household staff, but they are certainly still Talia’s minions.

The hubbub of the morning almost makes you forget where you are and what had happened the night before. You glance at the spot Damian was sleeping just a few hours prior. In his place is the outline of his body on the mattress.

“Where has my husband gone?” You wince when Joan tugs your hair particularly hard while brushing it.

“You have been summoned by Lady Talia.”

It hangs in the air, but you don’t expect them to answer your original question. It’s the nature of your relationship with them. It only reminds you to formally add Rachel to your household staff. Perhaps an ally in the mornings would improve your days.

You’re prodded and shoved and squeezed until you are dressed. A green and black gown once again. An emblem of the house that you married into. You are no longer a daughter of a baron – you are now a princess of the House Al Ghul.

You’re led to Talia’s room within the castle. A guard stands upright outside her door, and opens it for you and your brood. Within, you find your now mother-in-law with a table full of assorted small plates. Fruits, cheeses, bread. Your stomach grumbles in hunger, but you doubt you’ll be able to enjoy your meal. Not with Talia.

“Lady Talia,” you politely greet.

She waves you over without looking up. As you approach her, she finally glances at you, but now before grunting in disapproval.

She is now your mother-in-law. You must remain polite. You repeat the mantra to yourself several times as you become situated in the seat across from her. Your ladies-in-waiting stand off the side, along with Talia’s servants.

A moment passes. Then two. Then several. Talia says nothing and continues to eat. You recognize that she will not speak to you first, and that you must initiate the conversation. You desperately want to your roll your eyes, but you remember your mantra.

“Ahem, Lady Talia,” you start. “I have heard that you summoned me. Might I ask why?”

She sharply glares at you. “Do I need a reason to call upon you? After all, you are now my daughter.”

“Of course not.” You smile as sweetly as you can while simultaneously wanting to burst. You stomach rumbles again to remind you that it is empty, so you swiftly gather some items to make your plate full.

“Will Damian be joining us for this –”

“No,” Talia interjects.

“Oh.” Silence befalls the room except for the occasional chewing of food. “Is it possible for my mother to come join us? She will be leaving –”

“No. Is my presence not satisfactory to you?”

“Of course it is, Lady Talia,” you grit. She feigns a smile at you, and her eyes sparkle.

She knows that she’s irking you. She loves it.

“Are you close with Lady Rachel of House Azarath?” you inquire. The best use of your time here with Talia is to at least introduce the idea of Rachel as an additional lady-in-waiting.

Talia sips her tea generously before answering. “Yes, she used to be quite close to my son.”

“Well, her and I have only recently met, but we have become incredibly close. She honestly feels like a sister to me –”

“You’re talking about Lady Rachel?”

You gulp and shakingly nod your head. “Yes, I am. Erm – like I was saying, she has become a true friend. Since my family will return to my birthplace soon, and I have left behind my childhood friends, I was thinking about having Lady Rachel join my household staff. As a lady-in-waiting.”

Talia stares blankly at you, her green eyes burrowing into your soul. Her façade soon begins to break as her lips twitch and her eyes crinkles. Soon, she releases out a howling cackle. She laughs and laughs, holding her stomach to support herself.

Joan, Matilda, Honora, and the remaining servants in the room look to one another curiously before they begin to laugh as well. Their laughs start as awkward chuckles until they are bellowing to match their master.

You sit in utter disbelief at the situation unfurling in front of you. There’s a joke hidden in Talia’s laugh, but you remain oblivious to it.

“Oh, oh, my.” Talia wipes a tear from the corner of her eye. “Why, yes, of course! Lady Rachel is free to join your household staff.”

Your face is red with embarrassment as the laughs finally die down. You’re not sure what the joke was, and you so desperately want to know.

The food no longer looks appetizing to you. The measly few bites you had appease your stomach for the time being. Desperate for the attention to be off of you, the course of the conversation is redirected.

“Erm – thank you, Lady Talia. Say, how did you enjoy the festivities yesterday?”

“Ahem, yes, it was fine.” Her joyful tone suddenly reverts to its malicious nature. “I presume you enjoyed your wedding night, especially. How very lucky you are to bed a prince when you are…” She points in your general direction. “Well, when you are…you.”

A forced chuckle exits your mouth. Never have you ever met someone as blatantly, yet simultaneously subtly, rude. It dawns on you that her status allows her to speak however she wants, and that social graces are only for those inferior to her.

“I am eternally grateful that Prince Damian chose me to be his wife.”

She waves your pleasantry off. “Yes, yes. After all, he chose you out of…every maiden. I am certain you will do your duties as a wife to ensure his happiness. As long as you bear him heirs, I suppose that is all I can ask for.”

The conversation feels unpleasant to you. After all, shouldn’t your marital relations with Damian be kept between you and him? Admittedly, you’re not sure whether you should alert Talia to the fact that you did notbed Damian last night. Sure, you slept in the same bed, but you are certain that is not what she cares about.

The question that she was dancing around finally is brought to the forefront. “Last night was…successful, correct?”

Your hunger has not yet returned, but you abruptly feel the urge to stuff food into your mouth to avoid answering her.

“Mmhm.”

She leans in dangerously close. She remains across the table, but it seems like she will pounce on you if you dare utter one wrong word.

“Did you bed Damian?”

You breathe in deeply, having had enough of the intrusion. “Lady Talia, I feel as though my relations with your son –”

“This is a yes or no question, dear,” she seethes. “Did you or did not do your duty as the wife of Prince Damian?” She slowly stands as she asks you her question, her anger palpable.

“Does it matter?” you counter. “Why is that any of your business?”

“So, you did not bed him.”

You eye twitches in annoyance. “Lady Talia, I did not say that.”

“You don’t have to.” She slams her hands on the table, shaking it. You jump in surprise and grab hold onto the arms of the seat. The other women in the room hold their breath in frightened anticipation.

“What was the point then? What was it?” She places her hands on her waist and circles you. “There were so many others – richer, prettier, friendlier. Some of them he grew up with. Why you if he doesn’t even want to bed you?”

You remain glued to your seat. Talia looks down at you with rage in her eyes, while you look back with confusion. You don’t know how to answer her question, because ultimately, you’re unsure of the answers yourself. If she had asked you a month prior when you first arrived in Gotham, you probably could have answered that you and Damian shared a sweet encounter from many years past, and that encounter led to your marriage. However, with Damian’s aloofness, you also are uncertain as to why you were chosen to be his bride.

Talia groans in frustration at your muteness. She stomps towards the door, but not before a servant rushes over to open it for her. You watch as she disappears into the hallway, presumably to confront Damian.

You let out a shaky breath that you didn’t know you were holding.

“Take me back to my quarters,” you order your ladies-in-waiting. “And send for Lady Rachel.”

You pace back and forth in your room, practically burning a hole into the floor. A loud knock disrupts your fervent strides, and in comes your rescuer, Rachel.

“Rachel,” you whimper as your nearly run into her open arms.

Her arms wrap around you tightly, like how a snake suffocates its victims, except her hug was full of love instead.

You’re shaken up by your encounter with Talia, but the culmination of the previous 24 hours bears down upon you. You sink to the floor, Rachel helplessly attempting to lift you back to your feet, but the energy is no longer within you.

“Everything is wrong.”

“What is?” Rachel finally sinks to the floor next to you, holding your head to her bosom, holding you like a mother would do to console her child.

“Everything. This cursed family has brought me nothing but misery. I will be miserable until the end of my days, I fear.”

Rachel gently quiets you and strokes your hair. “No, that will not happen. I will not allow that to happen.”

“It will!” you exclaim. “Damian hates me!”

“He does not hate you.”

“Yes, he does!” Embarrassment sinks into your bones when Rachel asks you to explain.

“Last night was a disaster,” you murmur into her chest.

Rachel stops stroking your head momentarily. “Hmm? How so?” She starts once more playing with your hair.

“I am…still a virgin.”

She pulls your head backwards so that her eyes meet yours. “Do you mean…he has not bedded you yet?”

You cringe in embarrassment. Her shock has only solidified your insecurity – something must be wrong with you. That’s the only explanation!

“No, no, darling,” Rachel clucks. “Do not hide your face from me. It is not your fault – hey – look at me. It. Is. Not. Your. Fault.”

“Then, what is wrong?” You swiftly get to your feet and resume your pacing. “If not me, then what? It’s silly to think that there is another issue at play here.”

Rachel grabs hold of your shoulders and firmly shakes you. “Listen to yourself! You sound mad.” She looks around the room as if it isn’t empty and leans in close to whisper. “Understand that there may be other factors at play. The emotions of man can certainly affect his…libido. Take it from me, I should know.”

She releases her grip, but remains planted in front of your face. “I have had…prior relations.”

You nod at her wide-eyed. This is the first you’ve heard of Rachel speaking about her romantic life.

“Certain emotions can make it hard for a man to perform his husbandly duties. I do not think it wise to push the issue, as to not cause any embarrassment for him.”

You nod your head emphatically, whole-heartedly internalizing her speech. “But – what if he doesn’t bed me tonight either? Lady Talia is already speaking about heirs.”

“Again, do not push the issue. You would rather not face Damian’s wrath.”

A singular, harsh knock interrupts your discussion. In stomps in the subject of the conversation, the man of the hour, your lifeline and your ruin – Damian.

Rachel immediately curtsies out of respect and lowers her head. He opens his mouth to speak, but is seemingly stunned by the presence of another human in your room. He looks back and forth between you and Rachel.

“Husband,” you greet.

The sound of your voice brings Damian back from his trance. He nods his head towards the door and several servants, including your ladies-in-waiting, pile into the room.

“Wife,” he starts. He strides over to you and plants a kiss on your forehead. His lips leave a burning sensation on you, as his sudden display of affection jars you. “Pack your essentials. We leave soon for my father’s.”

“Damian,” you whisper. His face reveals his agitation: his lips are stretched into a scowl and his forehead wrinkles deeply. “Is everything alright?”

His palm reaches to your face, his thumb stroking your cheek. You want to believe he does it lovingly, but your heart can’t take that risk.

“You should have called upon me,” he murmurs. “As soon as my mother disrespected you, you should have come to me.”

You look down in shame. So, he’s heard of your interaction with Talia earlier that day. “I did not think that was an option. I did not even know where you were.”

He lifts your head up with his index finger on your chin. He bends as best as he could to meet you at eye-level. “Of course, that is an option. You are my wife.”

You swallow hard. The way he’s looking at you, and comforting you – it’s too much. It’s too sudden. You shimmy your way out of his grasp and look to Rachel for support, only to find her back facing towards you and Damian.

“Lady Rachel has been consoling me.”

Damian stiffens and his jaw tightens. “Thank you, Lady Rachel,” he starts. He looks over his shoulder her, and she does so too ever so slightly. Neither face each other completely, however. “You may now take your leave.”

Rachel nods her head and without turning to say goodbye to you, she starts heading towards the door.

“Wait, no!” you call out. You circle around Damian to reach Rachel’s arm. “Lady Rachel is to be my lady-in-waiting. She must remain by my side.”

Damian’s eyes bulge out of his head. “Your lady-in-waiting?” he repeats brashly.

You huff in irritation. You’re not sure why everyone seems to be so astonished that you want Rachel to be a part of your household staff. “Yes,” you reply.

Damian clicks his tongue in disapproval. The amorous façade he performed just moments prior is now gone. It’s been replaced with the real Damian – the stoic one.

“Fine.” He pushes back you to reach the exit before stopping by the door. He doesn’t even turn around. “Remember, just the essentials.

#dc comics #damian wayne x you #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne x fem!reader #damian wayne x y/n #league of assassins #loa!damian wayne #damian wayne

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roaenexists · 3 months

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Pick-A-Pairing Tarot and Oracle readings for the collective.

From left to right we have Pairing One: Leather. Pairing Two: Starburst. Pairing Three: Cerebral.

Pairing One: Leather.

You have been getting a little too big for your britches, as my grandma would say. You have been communicating and behaving in a way that has showed those around you a haughtier side of yourself than I know you'd prefer. In other words, you've been coming off as a bit of a bitch and we both know you're capable of better than that. You need to do some inner child work and tap back in to a learner's mindset. You don't have to fundamentally change who you are, just walk it back a bit. Did you ever love learning? Did you ever used to value the input of those around you? Tap back into that energy and you'll be surprised at how naturally it comes. Past You is here to support Present You. Stop trying to rush to your future self because right now you're missing the mark. Open yourself up to the lessons your friends and mentors and colleagues have for you, and embrace the youthful spirit you've been neglecting. Come home to yourself.

Pairing Two: Starburst

Recently you've ended something and then immediately begun something new that, quite frankly, you are ill-equipped to handle. I'm inclined to think it's a relationship, though for some of you it's a new job, or a personal project. But y'all all got one thing in common: You are going about this all wrong. You had your head in the clouds about what was going to be required of you, and how quickly you were capable of providing it, but the reality of the situation is that you have all the wrong tools, most of the wrong perspective, and none of the energy. You aren't seeing the situation clearly, most likely because you haven't been doing the necessary work on yourself to make sure you were ready for this new journey. If it's too late now to walk it back, don't panic. Set aside some time to really refill your emotional, spiritual, and physical cups. Make your own health and well-being the priority, at least for long enough to recenter and reassess. You cannot expect a battery to work when empty, and you cannot care for others without first tending to your own needs.

Pairing Three: Cerebral

Shit sucks right now. You're in a situation where you are powerless and/or unhappy, with the caveat being that there's no fucking reason you shouldn't be seeing and, more importantly, feeling progress already. You feel you've learned all you can from where you are, you've made all the moves, and all that's left is to move on. The good news is that it's only a matter of time. If you can bear down and get through time then you will be able to pursue your own idealistic future, which includes physically moving location in some way, and probably also mental health support services. Will you actually make it there is up to you, but overall this draw is giving big Trevor Project, "It gets better," vibes. It's corny but it is literally in the cards. You are moving forward. Time and space are not separate, so the longer you press on, the farther you are from where you want to leave. Things are changing. This is inevitable. If you can ride the tumultuous waters, they will eventually calm down, and you will be able to take control of your vessel in the way you know you need to. You know you are meant for different; you just need to believe it until your experienced reality is reflecting that truth back to you. Take this energetic hug from me and Spirit and know that your future is full of potential. If you need to vent you can DM me. Just keep going.

#roaenpost #tarotblr #tarot #tarot cards #divination #roaen reads #pick a card #pick a pile #pick a pair #pick a pairing #daily tarot #witch #witchcraft #witchblr #witchling #baby witch #daily divination #weekly reading #full moon reading

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whysojiminimnida · 1 year

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Remember When I Said Taehyung Might Not Be As Gay As We Thought?

Don't judge a man by his milfy wardrobe, he looks goooood.

It was... awhile ago. Maybe as far back as 2021 although I do not feel like link-searching it. It's in the archives if I didn't kill it.

Granted, there was a lot going on, then. There's still a lot going on and until now I had no desire to ever - EVER - return to this hellsite. Because Taekookers are fucking weird, yo. And some of y'all got a lil bit up in my shit too as I (fuzzily) recall. Which: it's whatever. I'm extremely unsocial, don't even answer my own DMs. And it's not personal, so I get it. I don't need or want to defend myself, but I will protect people I care about. With my absence, if necessary.

OT: I also totally kicked the big C while I've been out so that was nice. Yoongi the cat is pleased that his noms will continue uninterrupted. I will be in wigs for at least another year. It's all good. Oh LOOK at what we have here. Don't come at me for publishing this, I will explain.

I got it from actual media days ago, okay, and also: there was no expectation of real privacy. Keep reading. Or don't, I'm not telling you what to do.

ANYWAY. I had to come back, mainly to say TAENNIE IS REAL I TOLD Y'ALL IDK WHY NOBODY EVER BELIEVES ME BUT HERE WE ARE. I'm gloating. Honestly, it's so rude, I'd apologize if I cared. But I am rude and snorfling into my cheerios about this. Tae just made me so damn happy, is all.

LET THE MAN BE BI OR HETEROFLEXIBLE OR EVEN STRAIGHT IDC. Jennie clearly makes him happy. Look at his "I'm going to Paris to see my girlfriend" face!

And in that very specific jewelry look, no less. Foundrae. Again. Still. Hm.

Here's what I can tell you based on my limited third hand no sources no receipts this is probably utter bullshit usual disclaimer: It's a soft open, kids. This whole "oopsie we just so happened to get caught taking a lil walk in public with our managers in tow during which date at least one of us signed several autographs, what a surprise" is in fact a soft open for what will likely be a public confirmation PRETTY DAMN SOON. It might happen before I get this thing published, actually, depending on when I get it up. If it's before May 22 at noon my time, no idea. If after, well. Guess we'll see. Jennie's supposed to show up at the screening of HBO's The Idol that day, screening at the Grand Lumiere at 10:30 CEST. One wonders if she will arrive alone, or bring a plus one. It's a big ask, and if he does it they're probably getting married, that's how big a deal it would be. So I'm not holding my breath, but.

This seems like a reasonable prospect for a plus-one viewing. Might not be the only one but... Jennie's IN IT so.

I'M NOT SAYING THIS IS GONNA HAPPEN. I think it would be a fucking POWER move if it did, but I also do not necessarily expect that it will. It COULD. It... MIGHT. It might not. Either way they're a thing, I'm telling you. They are, have been, a thing. For awhile. And it is apparently quite serious - like up to and including talk of engagement serious.

Remember when a bunch of folk thought that one gummy bear dude was going to jail for "hacking" Jennie's phone only there's been no actual movement on any "investigation"? Yeah. Trickle truthing, they call it. Give 'em a little bit, let them deny it and yell and chew on it for awhile before you give 'em a little more. But c'mon, nobody's wearing half the love-themed couple pieces at Foundrae for no damn reason.

Seriously they got the whole collection almost and both have been seen wearing them almost exclusively. For a year.See airport pic above.

Look, I don't have inside info on Taehyung. I do not. I ain't hang with his friends and I don't know him personally. Never met the guy. But I know a PR move when I see one and this is exactly that.

We all know how toxic stan culture can be. Some ToadlicKKers (and a few of us house elves) are certifiably bonkers, if stan twitter is anything to go by. And the guys, the company, they expect a whole meltdown. They know this is not gonna make half their fans happy. I mean the tkkers have a point in that it looks like they wanted to be seen. BECAUSE IT'S A SOFT OPEN. What Taejen/Taennie/Jenhyung and the companies also know is that based on historic shipper behavior, this is gonna come back on Jimin, Jungkook, maybe Rose' and Lisa. And by extension, the other members. Maybe not as much due to their respective distance, but still. I bet by the time I finish this it will have already started.

Oh look there it is. Fuck those bitches, really.

Good LORDT. I'm not adding the audio, if y'all are that hungry for psycho hose beast Jimin hate hie thee to stan twt.

But, totally off-topic kinda...

... wouldn't it be cool if Jennie, who speaks great English, was hanging out with Troye Sivan and was like "so you know my boyfriend tells me that his bffs..." I'M JUST SAYING NETWORKING IS COOL AND FRIENDS OF FRIENDS GET THINGS DONE OKAY.

You know that girl has the scoop. If Tae knows it, she knows it. Oh heeeeyyy Troye.

Also OT: I love that Taekook have been hanging out a little more lately. It's refreshing. I genuinely think having Jennie in his life has been good for Tae in several ways. And you know, I'm kinda surprised Taennie has lasted this long. I didn't honestly think they would. It warms my decrepit, sad old heart a bit. Turns out I have a lot more to say so IDK IDK, if I feel okay about it I might be back. Right now I'm just waiting for the official Taennie nod and the continued total meltdown.

#oh shit here we go again #taennie #stan twt #cannes #taehyung #kim taehyung #jennie #meanwhile the jeon parks continue unabated but that's another thing #tae in paris #random troye sivan #cannes 2023 #yoongi the cat not the man #why the hell am i even here

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brucebocchi · 2 months

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Winter 2024 anime roundup, Pt. 1: Ongoing/returning shows and the trash heap

hey y'all, this is also up on my ko-fi! it's free to read both here and there, but i'm struggling financially rn so i could appreciate if you'd throw a few bucks my way if you liked it!

I wasn't expecting to watch nearly this much anime in just the past three months, but life completely failed at getting in the way. So here's everything I either watched or tried to watch for the Winter 2024 season, and a short review for each.

I'm not going to bother with trying to rank them, so instead they're sorted by category, as follows:

Continuing series from Fall 2023

Returning series

What I dropped

Mixed reactions

On hold

New series that are actually good

With this first entry, I'll be covering the first three, with the back half arriving in another couple of days. As with the 2023 rankings, the OP for each show is linked in the corresponding title.

Here we go.

Ongoing shows:

The Apothecary Diaries

Looking back at my 2023 rankings, I think my placement of The Apothecary Diaries’ first cour at #11 may have belied how much I love this show and believe it to truly be one of last year’s greats. If anything, it was hampered by its status as an ongoing show making it incomplete by nature, and I worried myself over the possibility of recency bias taking over my top ten (Frieren is in the same boat, so its top overall ranking should really highlight how damn good it is). Make no mistake, though: The Apothecary Diaries fucking rocks, and it continues to fucking rock.

It’s largely more of the same, and that’s what you would want from another cour of this show. At the same time, though, more and more is uncovered about Maomao’s background and Jinshi’s status as the proverbial camera continues to pull back and the mysteries adorning the edges of the frame become clearer. I got a sense at the end of the Fall 2023 cour that the show was moving on from its episodic nature into something more serial and plot-driven, and I was mostly right: While several episodes of the Winter cour still revolve around various mysteries of the week, they all start to converge before you even realize it. It’s the same flywheel-effect approach to plot development that Kaguya-sama did so well: While so many of the events seem like one-off curiosities in the moment, these almost-imperceptible movements eventually barrel forward into an unexpected but perfectly logical momentum. The show teases out several plot threads that may not seem relevant at first, and it trusts you to be patient enough to see them play out.

I’m not at all exaggerating when I say that, along with the next entry on this list, The Apothecary Diaries is one of the best anime of the past five years. I had a feeling that this could end up being the case as 2023 came to a close, but I’m sure of it now. Watch this show.

Frieren: Beyond Journey’s End

Last year’s best anime continues apace into 2024 as we get an honest-to-goodness story arc: Frieren, who has been around too long to bother taking any magical governing bodies seriously, needs a certified mage in her party order to continue on the journey north. She decides to take the necessary exam to be certified as a First-Class Mage, a rarefied status in this world, and has Fern tag along to do the same in order to double their chances.

And it’s still incredible! Great action, brilliant animation, wonderful character moments, and a beautiful score. It is still the top-rated anime ever on MyAnimeList, and by a significant margin. I’m not sure I agree, necessarily, but I can say with all sincerity that this has been a perfect season of television and my Fridays now feel empty without it.

That’s all I’ve got on this one. What else do you want from me? I’ve already written nearly 2000 words about this show alone since it premiered. You’re asking me for more? I’ll kill you.

Shangri-La Frontier

If the low placement on my 2023 list was any indication, I was pretty fed up with Shangri-La Frontier by the end of its first cour, and the first couple episodes of 2024 being little more than plot set-up had me teetering on the edge of dropping it entirely. But I’ll be damned if it didn’t reel me back in once shit actually started happening and the plot really began to move forward.

Well, for a bit, at least. The height of the series so far has been the Wethermon arc, in which Sunraku teams up with his fellow shit-gamers, Pencilgon and Katzo, as they vie to be the first to take down a notoriously difficult unique boss. As the fight plays out, we get to see the feeling-out process of a tough action-RPG boss, rife with attack pattern memorization, skill timing, and buff stacking as the margin for error grows ever thinner. As always, the animation is on point, the soundtrack rules, and the action sequences are exhilarating.

But my major gripe with the series remains: There’s hardly any actual story here, even after 25 episodes. There are broad gestures towards a larger plot (“the truth of this world,” as the NPCs call it), but they are too vague to even resemble anything enticing. Everything in between the major fights is just set dressing, and there’s a lot of in between. There’s decent stuff in there, to be fair; the adorable rabbit NPCs are always a delight, and I love the commitment to depicting our top-level gamers as smug, preening shitheels. These are long walks for short drinks of water, though, and much of the main cast isn’t likable enough to make the downtime tolerable, to the point where watching the many set-up episodes feels like more of a grind than the actual grinding in the show. Even in the best fight sequences I still had moments where I found myself yelling “STOP TALKING ALREADY” at the screen. Internal monologues are a constant in battle shonen, I know, but if there’s any demographic whose internal monologues I want to hear the least, it’s gamers.

I kept watching this show despite myself, and six months later I’m still not sure how much I actually enjoy it. I haven’t seen any of the lousy VRMMO anime that people favorably compare it to, so at least it isn’t Sword Art Online. Yay, I guess? Yet here I am, still plugging away at a show I can’t strongly recommend to a lot of people. Shangri-La Frontier has turned me into a Steam reviewer.

Undead Unluck

The stakes continue to rise exponentially in one of last year’s more underrated shonen hits (or it would’ve been a hit if Disney gave a fuck about marketing the anime on its own platforms). The Union neutralizes a threat, gains a new Roundtable member, and then shit hits the fan.

The scope of this series goes into absolutely buckwild directions, and all I will say is that “Kimi no Todoke predicting the future” was not a piece of worldbuilding I would have ever expected. But at the same time, it never loses focus on the human element, which only gets more poignant as it goes on. There’s a really beautiful message in the last arc about how people can live on through the memories of others, well past their bodies dying, which hits nice and hard considering this season aired at the same time as Frieren.

This is a show that I tended to watch sporadically (because I just plain forget to open Hulu just to watch one show every week), and I would say that it was the ideal way to watch it, except the pacing issues from the first cour only got worse during a monumentally consequential sequence in the middle of the second. There was an episode that had, I shit you not, 90 seconds of new content in the first seven minutes of runtime, and at the exact point in the series where you’re salivating for something, anything new. In a season where so much goes on in just 24 episodes, I’m baffled that they felt the need to pad the runtime so much.

That’s the worst of it, though, and the momentum fortunately builds up from there and barrels downhill until the end. The story becomes incredibly meta, which was a very ballsy move for a Shonen Jump series that was still relatively early into its run. The gamble pays off, though, and the debut season ends on several incredibly strong episodes, and now I want more. I’ll be hopping on the manga soon.

It also struck me towards the end of the season just how goddamn cute everyone looks. For all of the spraying blood and grim marching towards Armageddon, it says a lot that I still wanna pinch everyone’s fat little cheeks.

Returning shows:

The Dangers in My Heart, season 2

The first season was absent in my 2023 rankings but I decided to pick it up while the second was still airing, and I’m so glad I did: The Dangers in My Heart is an almost-too-precious middle school romance that is endlessly endearing and bluntly honest (if a little exploitative) about what middle schoolers are actually like, warts and all. Insecurities are amplified, they struggle to figure out their identities, and mental and physical development run on different schedules from one kid to the next. And amidst all this raging hormonal nonsense, we have ourselves a lovely little romance story.

Kyotaro has (mostly) kicked his chuuni tendencies and realized that he’s madly in love with the beautiful, cheery Anna. He’s as aware as anyone of what a mismatched couple they’d be, though, and continues to self-sabotage any progress in the name of maintaining her good social standing. To pile onto his loner’s perspective of middle school politics, Kyotaro also gets a front-row seat to Anna’s part-time work as a model-slash-actress and he wonders if an underdeveloped shrimp like him should be seen anywhere near someone so obviously more mature. At the same time, though, he’s a growing boy, and we see lovely moments of progress as Kyotaro takes initiative both for her sake and to achieve what he wants. To both ameliorate and complicate these situations, Anna reciprocates his feelings towards her, and we creep ever closer towards what we want to see, in increasingly awkward and precious fashion.

So much of this anime is just gorgeous. Even setting aside the visuals and music (which are on point at all times), there are really lovely themes in here about insecurity, teenage perceptions of maturity, and self acceptance. On top of all of that, though, this is just a delightful slice-of-life romance story. You can probably guess where we’ve ended up by the end of the second season, but it’s the getting there that makes it all worth it. The manga is still running (and I plan to pick it up), so there’s clearly plenty more of the story to tell, but if this is where the anime ends, it ended perfectly.

Holy shit, though, did the first season really air at the same time as Skip and Loafer and Insomniacs After School? Dentists must have made a mint that season because every single one of these shows is so unrelentingly sweet that my teeth start to itch. Not that I’m complaining.

Mashle: Magic and Muscles, season 2

I honestly think I might’ve been too hard on Mashle in my 2023 rankings. I gave up on it a few episodes in when it’d initially aired, but I eventually came back to finish out the season and ended up having a pretty good time. I’ll cop to having forgotten that latter part when I mapped out those rankings, but that enjoyment quickly came back to me when I picked up season 2... even if the season begins with a ton of table setting.

Plenty of battle shonen take time to find their voice, both in manga and anime, and Mashle really seemed to hit its stride fairly quickly into the second season. Mash Burnedead’s lack of magical quality is no longer a secret, and now magical society has to find a way to deal with it, so the series’ initial stakes are raised and Mash HAS to become a top-level sorcerer lest he lose his life. Also, the bad guys are back. Unfortunately, just as I started to genuinely appreciate the ensemble cast, most of Mash’s friends took a backseat to the larger plot (Lemon is nowhere to be seen almost all season) as the villains raise the stakes with increasingly JoJo-esque magic abilities. There’s still plenty to like, though, and some of the new characters help. Props for having an openly nonbinary character play a major role.

The music is a real highlight here; a surprising amount of hip-hop paints the backdrops during dialogue, and any show with an OP by Creepy Nuts will immediately grab my attention. "Bling-Bang-Bang-Born" actually turned into a bona fide hit single, much like Oshi no Ko's "Idol" and Jujutsu Kaisen's "SPECIALZ," and I'd say it's well earned (seriously, it fucks, please click the link above). The animation has also started to really pick up where it felt like it kept falling short in the first season as well, and I found myself looking forward to action sequences more as the season went on.

And hey, it might’ve taken 21 episodes to get there, but I finally laughed at a cream puff gag!

Urusei Yatsura (2022), season 2

I really don’t have much to say other than it’s more Urusei Yatsura, and that’s just swell. We continue the modern adaptation of the classic gag manga as the OG anime babe and her piece-of-shit “darling” get caught up in yet more bizarre hijinks. Despite the 48-episode run being touted as an “Urusei Yatsura all-stars” cherry-pick from Rumiko Takahashi’s 34-volume opus, not all of the segments hit on the same level, but the stories that last entire or even multiple episodes have been killer. Lum and Ataru, despite their myriad flaws, genuinely do care for one another, and this series is at its best when those feelings get to shine through. Takahashi remains a legend for her expert balancing of comedy and heart, and while this particular adaptation doesn’t have the built-in benefit of 300+ chapters of familiarity, those moments still feel earned.

It’s Urusei Yatsura. It’s a classic for a reason. Watch it.

Dropped:

Gushing Over Magical Girls (dropped after one episode)

For the TL;DR version, consult the image above.

All I’d heard about this show going in was that the manga it’s based on was good and that there would be boobs. I wish I’d known more than that before watching, though, because if I’d known that said boobs would belong to middle schoolers, I wouldn’t have bothered with even the one episode I did end up watching.

I was drawn in by the initial premise, too: The protagonist, the conspicuously-named Utena (who looks enough like Bernadetta from Fire Emblem that I was immediately endeared to her), is an enormous fan of the magical girls who keep her city safe, so when an adorable maho shoujo mascot approaches her with an offer, she immediately takes him up on it. As her sinister-looking (and unnecessarily revealing) costume suggests, though, Utena doesn’t get to live out her magical girl dreams; she actually got roped into—and blackmailed into keeping—a role as a villainess. The magical girl team she idolizes quickly finds her, and to stave off their assault, Utena is forced to summon a monster to bind them. As they continue to struggle and squeal, Utena goes further with it by ripping their clothes and spanking their bare bottoms red, because it turns out that she’s actually into this stuff, sexually. The title, it turns out, is a double entendre.

Credit where it’s due for a clever concept: On paper, this is really goddamn funny! My issue is with the execution: I don’t really care to see someone’s sexual awakening if it involves repeated violations of consent, and much less so if I have to see nudity of ostensible middle schoolers (Japanese middle schools are the equivalent of seventh through ninth grade, meaning these girls are 15 at most). After 100 Girlfriends, I thought I could handle whatever trashy bullshit any anime could throw my way, but the longer I chewed on Gushing’s premiere, the worse it sat with me. I have no intentions of playing morality police here, but I can’t bring myself to watch any more of this than I already have.

Early teenage sexuality is a very difficult subject matter to handle delicately, especially in a comedy milieu, and I can levy plenty of criticisms on that matter towards series I otherwise enjoyed, like Call of the Night and the aforementioned Dangers in My Heart. And although there appear to be some coming-of-age elements here, Gushing doesn’t seem interested in handling it without being exploitative. Maybe it gets better, but I don’t plan to find out for myself.

I just feel like it’s a shame that in a season with some actual halfway decent LGBT representation, the breakout yuri hit is about middle schoolers performing dubiously-consensual BDSM on each other. And maybe that speaks to something for some sapphic viewers, and I have no intention of speaking over them, but I do know that this isn’t for me. I would’ve gone fucking feral over this show when I was like 13, but I haven’t been a 13-year-old boy for a long, long time.

I may not have a leg to stand on here as someone who watches Mushoku Tensei (and frankly, that one’s on strike two with me), but I have to put my foot down somewhere. For me, that “somewhere” is borderline pornography involving 13-15 year olds. I try to meet media where it is, even the squicky stuff, but I cannot put myself at the level Gushing Over Magical Girls sets for itself.

Sasaki and Peeps (dropped after eight episodes)

This show is frustrating to even process postmortem. After a mildly intriguing hour-long premiere that introduced a whole lot of concurrent concepts, Sasaki and Peeps somehow managed to not only continue heaping new ideas onto the pile, but also fumble every single one of them in a way that wasn’t even entertaining to watch.

Sasaki, a lonely 40-something salaryman of modest means, decides that instead of living vicariously through adorable animal photos on social media, he should pull the trigger and get a pet of his own. He settles on a reasonably-priced and suitably adorable fat little Java sparrow, who as it turns out speaks human language and is actually named Piercarlo the Starsage (Sasaki settles on calling him Pii-chan, or Peeps in English). The bird was reincarnated from another world, where he is able to take Sasaki at will, and the man realizes he can use the other world’s relative dearth of technology to his advantage and sets up an interdimensional trade full time so he can make coin on his own watch and help Peeps try the delicious beef he heard is the best food in Sasaki’s world. To the latter end, he also invests in a restaurant. Peeps also helps teach him magic, which Sasaki is forced to use in a pinch in the real world. He is quickly found out and gets roped into a secret government bureau of psychics, because the agent who caught him using ice magic decides he’d be a perfect complement to her water powers (think Kanne and Lawine from Frieren, but stupider). Sasaki now has to balance these multiple lives, which hardly ever interact with one another, as the stakes rise in Peeps’ world in the form of palace intrigue and in Sasaki’s world in the form of a growing threat of evil psychics or something. Also, there’s magical girls, because why the fuck not at this point.

If you actually managed to process all that and went “wow, that’s a lot, I wonder how they can tie all that together,” it brings me no pleasure to report that Sasaki and Peeps completely fails at that task. This is a work of fiction with entirely too many ideas, to the point where it feels like it has no ideas. There’s a saying in football that a team with two quarterbacks is a team with no quarterback, and Sasaki and Peeps has, like, six on its depth chart. You ever hear a band that managed to cram multiple genres in the same song and you get whiplash every time it switches up? Those are bands with a lot of influences, but no identity or vision to call their own, and that is Sasaki and Peeps to me: It is the Twenty One Pilots of anime. A lot of shit got thrown at the wall, and none of it stuck: This show, conceptually, is shit-stained drywall with a pile of turds adorning the moulding.

For a show about a 40-year-old man, it gave me serious pause that there was not a single named adult woman in any of the episodes I watched, and I grew even more frustrated waiting for one to show up. Sasaki’s partner, Hoshizaki, seems to be a driven, professional young woman, but it turns out she’s a 16 year old high school student, for some reason. The daughter of the viscount doing business with Sasaki is a young girl who likes to tag along with him, and Sasaki’s neighbor is a latchkey high school girl who may or may not have a yandere-ish fixation on him. The magical girl we meet is also definitely a kid. The female psychics they face off against don’t appear to be older than teenagers, though the one who appears to grow fond of him turns out to be several hundred years old, which especially gave me pause because we all know that unfortunate trope and the type of person who hides behind it. Before progressing any further, I found out that the light novel series upon which this show is based was written by someone with the pen name “Buncololi,” which told me the rest of what I needed to know.

That part made me increasingly uncomfortable, and I became less and less convinced that this show was capable of sticking the landing as it continued to pile on new, contrived ideas. This was a waste of an excellent voice cast, but more than that, a waste of time.

Tales of Wedding Rings (dropped after nine episodes)

I can’t believe how much goddamn isekai I ended up watching this season. That Tales of Wedding Rings wasn’t the worst one (see above) was a minor miracle, because boy howdy was this one a dud.

Satou is just a normal high school boy, blah blah blah, his childhood friend he’s in love with is actually a princess from another world and she has to go back to fulfill a political marriage, he follows her into the portal to pull a Benjamin Braddock. But then, gasp, the palace is under attack, so the princess (her native name is Krystal, but growing up in Japan she was known as Hime, which means… princess) instead decides to marry Satou, bestowing upon him her kingdom’s ring, which gives him powers that he uses to fight back the demons. It turns out that her ring enables him to use one elemental affinity out of five, so of course now Satou has to collect the rings held by the other four kingdoms in order to become the Ring King and save the world, and to do so he has to also marry each corresponding princess.

This is basically Tolkien’s Rings of Power but as a harem isekai with bonus nudity. What I saw of the season was basically a MacGuffin hunt that had waifus of various fantasy races attached. Fine character designs for each, to be fair, but it wasn’t enough to keep me interested. It’s funny on paper that (to paraphrase Geoff Thew) our protagonist’s power level scales with the size of his harem, but Tales didn’t do enough to make me actually care what was happening. And I wanted to! There were elf titties and I didn’t care. That’s criminal.

What makes Tales especially difficult to watch is that this show is fuck ugly. The color palette is muddy and unappealing, everyone looks uncannily shiny, and there’s a smudgy Vaseline filter over everything. The action sequences are uninspiring, the animation is lousy, and every character looks terribly off-model unless they’re naked. Watch the OP I linked if you don't believe me; that's the best of it. The aural element isn’t much better; ecchi scenes are punctuated by a Cinemax-caliber smooth jazz score that I pray was chosen ironically, and most of the show’s humor consists of “an old guy is screeching.” And if you’re wasting Shigeru Chiba’s talents on that one lousy joke, you’ve fucked up catastrophically.

What completely pushed me out of wanting to see any more of this show, though, was how hard it doubled down on the worst elements of harem anime by having Protag-kun be a wishy-washy little ninny even though he’s openly declared his love for and is literally married to Hime/Krystal. And I wanted to care about her; the narrative made me want to care about her, and her jealousy of the other princesses is warranted, but alas, the harem demands bodies. To his credit, Satou recognizes her mixed emotions and makes extra time for her to make it clear that she’s forever number one in his heart, but every single time their shared romance and emotions actually push them towards consummating their (all caps for emphasis) MARRIAGE, the show goes Rent-a-Girlfriend on us and finds a cheap excuse to ruin the moment. No thanks, I’m out. Nothing else about this show is good enough to make me wade through that shit.

Honestly, the only thing that had me coming back after my Persona 3-induced hiatus was that I wanted to see the dragon girl, and that alone was almost worth it, but there really isn’t much of a draw otherwise. There were better isekai, better romances, better fantasy settings, and even better uncensored harem shenanigans this season. I might pick this back up as the second season approaches, but I’m not in any hurry.

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