#ii. not completely helpless / beg.
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By Any Other Name, Pts. I-V - Remastered
This one is yet unfinished. Huge shout-out to the amazing @Bby-kimmy, who created the Keeperverse where this one is set. Also huge shout-out to @diaperedlilgirl, my favorite person in the world, who commissioned it!
I. Rose
That first morning in Paris, I woke up around half past six, when the sun made its way down the skylight and into my cage. For a while, I just lay there, rolling and yawning and grumbling. But when I did eventually sit up, fixing myself onto my bottom with a distinct crinkle, that’s when it really came into view.
It had all happened so fast. A day ago, I was just a bored, overworked twenty-something. I didn’t know if I was destined to be a pet, or if I was destined to be a keeper, or if I was destined to remain a lonely spinster forever and ever.
That’s why I had decided to take my trip across Europe, why I decided to come here even though I didn’t speak a word of the local tongue. I just wanted to get away from it all, to not think about it, to use my vacation time to go as far away as possible. And yet lo and behold, before that first night in the city was even over, I was bound.
He was like nothing I had ever seen - broad-shouldered, tanned, with a perfectly even scruff across his chiseled jawline that I could only look up at when he stood - after all, he was well over a foot taller than I was, and I was sitting down to boot.
I never would have mustered the courage to approach him, but I wouldn’t need to. Without hesitating for even a step, he approached me with a cool confidence, stopping at the seat next to mine before revealing his deep baritone:
“Parlez-vous français?”
I gulped down my drink when he said that, trying frantically to process what was happening before recognizing that he was asking if I spoke French. Somehow, in that moment, even the word for no wouldn’t come to me, and so I just shook my head.
But he just took the seat, his eyes still fixed on mine, gave me a wide smile, and whispered, in that heavy accent of his, “Even better.”
I had to snap myself out of that memory. My hand was already at my diaper, and I didn’t know yet if I was allowed to play with myself without permission, or what the punishment would be if I did.
Of course, there was a lot I didn’t know yet. Being bound in a foreign country meant that she was even more helpless than most pets, completely and totally dependent upon my keeper for every want and need.
As I repeated that thought in my mind, my heart started to race. I grabbed at the front of my sleeper, where the thick white padding underneath was bulging through. My diaper was wet, for sure - but at least, I could remember when that happened.
And then, just as suddenly, I grabbed at the back, just to check, just to make sure. There wasn’t any alarming squish, any foul smell, any telltale signs of a mess. I was clean, but I knew it was only a matter of time before that control was taken away from me.
Finally, I reached towards the pink collar around my neck, and the matching tag that hung off it. Céleste, it said, in bold, engraved letters. That was what my keeper called me. That was my new name.
My hand trembled holding that tag, and my heart thumped louder and louder. I wondered if all the things that made me who I was - all the things that made me me - would disappear into my identity as a pet. I wondered, on some level, if it was all worth it.
But as the footsteps neared my room, I felt that primal urge build inside of me again. At my cage’s edge, I went onto my knees, clenching the bars with wide and eager eyes facing up to my keeper. I was ready to obey.
****
II. Renauld
Seeing her for the first time under the natural light only confirmed what I already knew. From that diminutive figure that just begged for a protector, to those bright, expressive eyes that looked up with such wide wonder, to the brown hair resting messily at her shoulders, she was the perfect pet. My perfect pet.
Just as I expected, she was wide awake by the time I walked into her room, following me with those eager eyes while she stood on her knees in the cage. So I put down my bowl by the door, taking two ripe strawberries from it into hand as I went to greet my pet.
These berries were a prized possession, grown fresh in my estate in the countryside. They were a deep red that glistened in the sunlight, giving off a sweet aroma that made the mouth water instantly. And whether she knew it or not, they would be the key to her training.
I moved a strawberry towards the cage bars, and she began instinctively to reach out her hand - a common mistake for a new pet. So I pulled my own hand back, wagging a finger as I repeated, “non, non, non.”
It took her a few moments to understand - oh, her confused face was so adorably cute - even as I motioned down with my fingers. But finally, she understood, laying her hands down onto the floor of the cage and stretching her head to the bars, to receive her treat as a proper pet should.
Much better. Of course she made a mess of the fruit, splattering juices onto her chin and around the edges of her lip. But that was the point. As I took my handkerchief to wipe her face, I could see in her expression that she was affirming her place as a submissive pet, her need for her keeper growing, and our bond strengthening in turn.
With that first step out of the way, I opened the cage door and let her out. Without any need for instruction, she crawled onto the rug on all fours, stopping in the center of the room to look at me with those big eyes, eagerly awaiting the next step.
It was time for her to learn her first commands.
Walking to the corner of the room, I took the bowl of fruit in hand and leaned down to face my curious pet. When our eyes locked, I gave the instruction:
“Viens ici,” I said - come here - and gestured for her to come to me.
The girl blinked for a moment before nodding to herself. She crawled towards me, moving with trepidation at first, but picking up her pace as I gestured again, driven perhaps by the approving smile on my face.
She reached my knee and parked herself on her crinkled bottom, hands patiently on her knees. I placed a third strawberry into her mouth, pulling the leaf back to the bowl as she hungrily devoured the fruit. And then, with a soft “bon toutou,” I ruffled her hair with a friendly pat, before moving quickly over to an adjacent corner.
“Viens ici,” I repeated, gesturing again, and this time she scurried over with a confident grin, clearly proud of what a good job she was doing obeying her keeper. She must have expected another berry when she reached me, but it wouldn’t be quite so simple this time.
I hopped to yet another corner of the room, circling my way around the cage that stood in the middle. Once again, I repeated my command, but this time I made no gesture. And though she again made her way towards me on all fours, this time I would stop her halfway.
“Reste!” I called firmly but with a steady tone, holding a finger out.
She, instinctively, stopped where she was, correctly obeying my command to stay. And when I saw that she did, I came towards her and gave her her next fruit, again stroking her hair and murmuring “bon toutou” in approval.
Over the next few minutes, we would settle into the rhythm of our game. I would jolt around the room, calling out my commands. If I called “viens ici,” I would expect her to follow. If I called, “reste” I would expect her to stand still, or stop immediately if she was moving. And being as she was so intelligent and so eager to obey, she did a very good job.
When the last of the strawberries was gone, and the bowl was put aside, I gave the girl a kiss upon the forehead and a prolonged caress, showering her with praise that she understood just as a pup would. And then, I picked her up into my arms and began to carry her downstairs, ready to enjoy our first proper meal of the day.
****
III. Marie
The Parisian townhouse that monsieur Renauld calls home is spread across three levels. The ground floor features his kitchen and living area, exiting onto a garden veranda that he often uses to wine and dine guests. On the second level, there is a master and a guest bedroom, along with a full bath. And the top level, the smallest of the spaces, is what some might call an attic, a simple, square room that, as of the day that his pet-to-be arrived in France, was completely empty.
But monsieur Renauld works quickly, you see.
I had heard them stirring in the morning, as he taught her her first commands. But it was only when he carried her down to the ground level that I finally got a chance to glimpse his precious Céleste, and I could see immediately what so struck him.
She was absolutely darling there, curled up in his broad arms, dressed in that powder-blue onesie with a collar wrapped about her neck. Her eyes were a dazzling hazel, darting curiously around every unfamiliar fixture in this new home of hers, from the sparkling marble of the kitchen island, to the broad glass doors, to me.
I, at that moment, was seated on the veranda’s large rocking chair, that faced out into the garden and towards the Parisian streets beyond the fence. That’s where monsieur Renauld took his pet to wait, assuring her - in words she couldn’t understand but in a tone that she clearly could - that she would be safe and comfortable while he made her lunch. It was with that assurance that he finally let her out of his arms, for the first time since he had picked her up two floors above, and into mine.
Céleste stared up at me as I started to cradle her, taking me in with those wide, wondering eyes. I was a head taller than her, and easily more than twice her size, and I think she could tell quickly who I was. She blushed a rosy red, before tucking her face away into her hands, away from my line of sight and from the neighborhood traffic.
I chuckled a bit at the girl’s timidity as I started to rock her in my arms. Of course, the passersby had all seen many a pet in their time - some were even out with pets of their own. But it was well known to be a jarring sensation at first, to go overnight from an independent young man or woman to being publicly dominated, diapered, and kept.
She kept her face hidden there for some time, pulling it up only when the scent of sizzling fish and butter began to waft out from the kitchen. Oh, if she could only see how she looked at that moment, turning her head up and sniffing hungrily as she tried to place the scent, the metal tag on her collar rattling as she shuffled around.
Soon, she was back in her keeper’s arms, moving towards the dining table in the veranda where lunch was freshly served. She would stay in his arms until they were seated, at which point monsieur Renauld settled her into his lap, gesturing her hands down as a gentle reminder that she was not to use them to eat.
Lunch itself was crumb-crusted, pan-fried codfish, with sides of roast cherry tomatoes and fresh balsamic greens. It was the sort of fine plate that monsieur Renauld himself would have not long after, a reminder to the girl that she could still dine like a princess while being kept as a pet. The only difference between his meal and hers, in fact, was the digestive fiber blended in with the breadcrumb crust of her fish - that, of course, was a popular supplement to help new pets overcome a certain sort of shyness, which she herself would come to understand in due time.
He fed her forkful by forkful, her mouth watering for every next bite while she messily chowed. Immersing herself in her meal, she seemed to grow less and less conscious of the Parisian passersby, even as they peered in over the fence to glance at this new pet in their neighborhood.
When the plate was clean, though, and her cheeks and chin were thoroughly wiped, the girl was visibly and very thirsty. And that, of course, is where I came in.
This is the beauty of monsieur Renauld’s quick work. When he is sure, he does not hesitate. He is diligent and decisive, precise and proactive. It is talent that served him well in the world of business, where he made his fortune, and it is one that would serve him well here.
Though his primal instinct had kicked in only the night before, and though he only knew then that he had found his pet, he wasted absolutely no time in making the necessary preparations. I received his enquiry a few hours before midnight, and arrived at six a.m. sharply to orient myself to the space, and to discuss his need for a housekeeper and wet nurse - a keeper’s assistant, in the common parlance - to help break in his newfound joy.
The girl blushed crimson and even shook her head as I placed her beside my chest and unbuttoned my brassiere. She tried slightly to pull away, calming only as her keeper gave her words of gentle encouragement, stroking her hair rhythmically as he reminded her that there was nothing to be afraid of. And finally, when she was pacified, she nodded her head forward and latched onto my teat.
It must have been shocking for her, cradled in my arms, to be taking those sips. But that’s just the thing - becoming a pet should be shocking. Rather than try to ease in through a gradual process in which rules and roles are constantly adjusted, it is crucial and healthy for a new pet to understand clearly their new place, to understand without even an ounce of doubt that their privileges as adults are gone, that they are to rely completely and solely on their keepers, and that they will be taken care of. And that understanding is only possible, you see, when the keeper works quickly.
After the feeding was complete, it was soon time for Céleste to be changed and dressed to go out, and I followed upstairs - with the permission of monsieur Renauld - to observe.
She again blushed brightly as she lay there on the bed, naked but for her sopping-wet diaper, bracing for her first change as a pet. But monsieur Renauld soothed her with his warm and gentle hands, slowly untaping her garment, wiping her most sensitive parts with a soft touch. In no time at all, she was powdered front and bottom, adorned in a fresh garment, and lifted into a seated position - her own petite breasts exposed to the gentle breeze - to receive her new clothes.
A few moments later, I leaned in and awww-ed at how adorable she was, trying to make sense of the leash now tied to her neck while her thick, pink diaper peeked out from her short, pale-yellow sundress. There she was, about to greet the world as a pet for the first time, whether she was ready or not.
****
IV. Rose
I had walked down the street before - just not like this. In fact, I had been there only a day earlier, strolling past the fancy architecture and luxe shops as just another tourist, snapping pictures of everything in sight, distracted at the same time by thoughts of work, of dinner plans, or of my friends and the adventures they were having. But that all seemed like an eternity ago.
Here I was, walking down the very same street, looking at the same grand hotel, the same ornate cathedral, the same fancy shops and quaint cafés. But everything just looked bigger.
Before, I was just another invisible tourist. Now, it seemed like everyone’s eyes were on me, awwww-ing and giving me big smiles, asking my keeper if they could pet me - to which he would always eagerly nod. It was like everyone we passed by wanted to take a closer look - there was a businessman in a fancy suit, an elderly lady with a cane, a few girls who looked around college age, several gay couples… even a mime somehow managed to ask!
I didn’t say anything, of course, as they leaned in and stroked my hair - I couldn’t. First, because I didn’t know their language, couldn’t understand a word they were saying. Second, because the was a large pacifier in my mouth, which my keeper added to my outfit at the last moment. And third, I wasn’t sure if I was allowed.
It didn’t matter, I reminded myself. He would make sure no one made me feel uncomfortable, he would take me wherever I needed to go. And I stood there, obediently still as I could be, tucking my blushing face away and holding my hands together in front of my diaper. And I stayed there, until I felt the tug on my collar to start moving forward again.
The afternoon rolled along, and the man who held my leash seemed to be in no rush getting anywhere. At a bustling café, he stopped in front of the outdoor tables to wave hello to a friend of his - a slender, dark-haired man with a long mustache - and the two proceeded to chatter for a while. He seemed to be making some plans with my keeper, but my attention was drawn towards the girl seated next to him - his pet.
She didn’t so much wave as flap her hand at me, with drool forming at the edge of the grin behind her pacifier. Her hair was in long, blonde pigtails, and her eyes were wide and blue, devoid of any worry or thought. Timidly, I raised my hand to wave back, wondering how long it would be before I was like that.
Again, I felt that tug on my collar, and it was time to move again. On we went towards up the avenue, carefully crossing a busy intersection before shifting to the side of the street, where we stopped in front of a familiar façade. It was a name I recognized from long before I visited - Hermés.
A staff member swung open one of the wooden double doors, and in we walked into the posh shophouse, where tall, glass cases of bags and accessories surrounded a spiraling marble staircase. It was a world of luxury I didn’t even dare to set foot in a day before, and immediately I was overwhelmed.
My keeper, of course, didn’t seem at all bothered, as he led me towards a red-and-gold bench behind the staircase. He then patted the bench with his hand - “ici,” he commanded - and I sat where he gestured, earning an approving smile and a kiss on my forehead. And then, with another command - “reste” - he signaled for me to stay there, before tying the other end of my leash around one of the staircase pillars and making his way towards the cashier.
I watched as he began to ask questions, pointing towards a particular case in the store. My heart skipped a beat as I realized he was gesturing towards the ornate collars and pet accessories, as it dawned on me that he was getting something for me. Was he really going to buy me something here? Was he just browsing, to give me something I would have to earn later? What exactly would I have to do to earn it?
That was when the bell rang.
A pair of older women walked into the store, chattering between themselves while looking eagerly around the shop. Then, I somehow caught their eye, and they leaned in to ogle this new pet in the neighborhood, with one of them turning towards my keeper for permission to admire.
Soon, they were over me just as the passersby before had been, baby-talking me with words I couldn’t understand. Again, I tucked my head away, cheeks burning bright red from the embarrassment. But it was at that moment that I realized it was about to get much, much worse.
My stomach rumbled. It seemed like my large lunch from before was finally making its way through my system, and the pressure was building fast. A small, short toot made its way out before I could stop it, but brought little relief. There was no way I would be able to hold it all the way home, but could I at least hold it here? Could I at least contain it just a few minutes?
My eyes darted around the room, as the women continued to stroke my hair and make cutesy faces at me. Here was a place that I would have been afraid to sneeze as an independent woman, that I didn’t even dare to set foot in. And now, I was about to… I was about to…
It all came out at once, loudly, pressing against my seat as it spread around my bottom. One of the woman who had been petting me recoiled with a pee-ew gesture, while the other chuckled, turning towards my keeper across the store.
“Monsieur!”
****
V. Renauld
Everything was coming together perfectly.
Of course, I couldn’t have calculated that she would lose control at that very moment, surrounded by judging elders in a luxury shop. But sometimes, with the right ingredients and care, a dish can turn out even better than imagined.
All of it, of course, was for her own good. In training a pet, the initial shock of their new status is what allows them to release their adult habits and worries, to understand fully the weight of the transformation they’ve undergone. And because of that, it was important not to rush my little one’s change, much-needed as it was.
So I took my time, enjoying my chat with the cashier on the shop’s various pet offerings - I wouldn’t be making a purchase there and then, but that was no reason to deprive myself of important information for later. It was only once I had gone through the proper formalities that I walked calmly over to the bench at the center of the store, to check up on my precious pet.
Her face was crimson, buried completely in her hands. And her thick pink diaper, already bulging out beneath her sundress, was twice the size it had started, with a clear stain on its bottom. From the muffled English behind her pacifier, and from her body language, it was clear that she was begging for a change.
“Non, ma petite,” I wagged my finger, “pas encore” - not yet.
I lifted the girl up, her face nestling in my chest. Her current state would make it difficult to lead her home by leash, but that could be forgiven now. Plus, as I wrapped her in my arms, I was able to press a hand upon her rear, giving her a helpful reminder of her latest “accomplishment.”
I fixed my pet over my shoulder for our comfort, and down we went through the avenue, walking past the same row of shophouses and cafés as before. It was a slow walk, with her bouncing gently upon my hand, squishing as we strolled, but I hoped that she understood that that was merely the result of my bearing an additional load. It wasn’t as if I was torturing her intentionally, of course.
Soon, we came to the spot where I had parked my car, and I helped my Céleste into her booster seat in the back. She shook fists and whined, clearly expecting a backseat change. But again, I wagged my finger.
“Non, ma petite,” I repeated, “pas encore.”
The drive home, through Paris traffic, was not a short one, but again I was deliberate and methodical. It was far more important, after all, to keep my little pet safe than to rush her home. And as much as she was beginning to smell - and as much as another wetting in the car increased the strain on her already well-worn garment - those matters could wait.
Finally, we were home, and it was time to help my little one out of her booster, out of the car, and up the stairs. She must have been so happy to finally be led by hand into the master bedroom, where the mat, the powder, and the wipes all awaited. Finally, she must have thought, she would get her change.
But not just yet.
First, I stood her in the room’s doorway. Next, I helped off her sundress - there was no need for outdoor clothes here. And then, once she stood there, bare but for her well-sodden diaper, I fixed her into a proper posture, straightening her arms and legs. In due time, she would get her change, but not before an important lesson.
“Assis,” I gave the command, and of course she didn’t understand at first. So I pointed slightly down, and down she went, timidly, onto her knees, a confused look in her eyes.
“Bon toutou,” I praised her, fixing her hands down toward the floor and tilting her chin slightly up.
Assis, of course, was the command to sit, but in keeper-speak it was more akin to beg, a stance of complete submission, of dependence and subservience. And her stance was perfect.
I gestured for her to stand, and she stood. And then, I repeated my command, and she moved back into her begging pose. And again, I made her stand, and again I repeated my “assis,” which she obeyed this time with more confidence. She had passed this test.
With that, I picked the girl up and placed her upon the large, soft mattress, her bottom meeting the cushion with a pronounced squish. And then, I went over to the girl’s outstretched right arm, took a rope out from underneath the frame, and began to tie her to the bedpost.
“Mmmmmpphhhh!” she fussed, baffled clearly by what I was doing, but I merely proceeded to do the same with each of her other limbs, wrapping carefully around each wrist and ankle.
“Non, ma petite,” I said calmly, “pas encore.”
The poor girl - she didn’t even realize that she was about to receive a reward. She didn’t understand just how proud of her I was for her performance on the day. And she didn’t know that those restraints placed upon her were simply means of maximizing her stimulation.
I had hoped that things would become clear once she saw the wand, but she simply blushed and shook her head vigorously, clearly unfamiliar with the feeling of rapid vibration against a well-filled disposable garment. But she would learn soon enough.
Her resistance subsided quickly as the device met her loins, and I could see the pleasure begin to pulsate through. First, she started to breathe heavily, her pacifier falling out as her mouth opened wide. Soon after, she began to moan, each release ever so slightly more prolonged than the last.
And finally, as I pressed down the wand against her plastic garment and all the most sensitive parts beneath it, she reached crescendo, letting out a high-pitched squeal that only a true pet could utter. Now, it was time for her change.
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Burglars Maegor and Maegor ii break into Viseriya’s house. They use her once and decide to move in with her. She is miserable and wants them to leave but she doesn’t know their plans.
Viseriya was in the shower when they broke in. They dragged her from there, she couldn't fight back since they are so much stronger. They easily spread her legs, insulting her that she is making things easy for them. They fucked her at the same time, making her completely helpless and a cumming mess. They even fucked her in the staircase and living room.
They would be fools to leave a nice tight cunt and decided to just move in. They have made it impossible for Viseriya to escape, and the way she cums and beg people would think she actually likes being their toy. She is not allowed to wear anything inside the house and not allowed to wear underwear outdoors
#hotd#game of thrones#game of thrones imagines#hotd headcanon#hotd fanfic#house of the dragon#hotd imagine#hotd imagines#hotd one shot#house of the dragon imagine#viseriya#viseriya targaryen#maegor targaryen x oc#maegor x reader#maegor targaryen x reader#maegor ii#maegor#maegor targaryen
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ROUND 2! MATCH 5 OUT OF 8
Propaganda Under the Cut:
Into the Woods:
Aside from giving her several good songs, the plot of the musical explores the lessons she takes away from her adventure and continues past her "Happily Ever After." Her new found maturity is represented by her giving away her riding hood and replacing it with the pelt of the big bad wolf. (And she begins carrying a cartoonishly large knife for self defense.)
She wears the Wolf's fur as a coat after her grandma kills him. She gives her cloak to the Baker to help him. She's a badass. She's only a kid. She taunts Jack into going up the beanstalk again.
She's just a feral child tbh. One of her lines in THE VERY FIRST SONG, delivered totally casually, is "into the woods, to bring some bread to granny who is sick in bed! Never can tell what lies ahead, for all that I know, she's already dead!" Everyone else gets a major life change by the end of Act I - Cinderella goes from being a maid to a princess, the baker and his wife have a child, and Jack goes from being poor to being rich - and Little Red just goes from being a feral child to being a feral child WITH A KNIFE, which she constantly brandishes in Act II! And she gets a cool wolfskin cloak to boot. She also goes through Trauma and Losing Her Family in Act II. Poor meowmeow. She has a sweet tooth too and on the way to Granny's house she eats half the loaf of bread and all of the MANY sweets she has in her basket... so silly. She also has AUTISTIC SWAG!! Constantly misses social cues, super bouncy and excited! Basically she's just the ultimate scrunkly and you should all vote for her
She’s so cool and sings cool songs :)
(Spoilers) Bratty little girl who has no value of life in Act 1, forced to reckon with the consequences of everyone's selfish actions as a mourning and vengeful Giantess widow tears through the land in Act 2.
The most iconic little shit. I love her. Has a knife and laughs while threatening people off with it. Allowed to be more than just naïve. 10/10.
the movie is SO SUCKS and she is SO BADASS i love her. please please i'm begging you use the stage musical version instead of the movie
SHES SO GREAT like ohmygod first of all she’s written in such a real way? like she’s not completely helpless just cause she’s a little girl but she’s also not a cold unfeeling girlboss just cause she has a knife (unless you’re watching the movie but the movie sucks). she acts like a kid would really act in these situations. it’s a little depressing to think about cause it’s so widespread for media not to do this, but for all the shallow, surface level girlbossery in modern media, it’s refreshing to see that sondheim treated the women in his art like people. they didn’t have to be held to any sort of standard just by nature of being women. they are just themselves.
She's got really awesome songs + she's just a hungry little girl who wants some food and also to go see her grandmother. We get to see her process grief and learn how to be on her own and then we get to see her learn that she doesn't have to be alone because "no one is alone". We see her grow from a naive little girl to a girl who lashes out at everything so she doesn't end up in danger again into a girl who wants to look out for and be there for people because they are alone just like she was and she doesn't want them to have to feel like she did. Also she has a knife and she's not afraid to use it. Her first cape is somewhat magical and is used in a potion to reverse a curse and give this couple a baby and then her second cape is really cool and made out of the skins of the wolf. She group effort helped kill a giant through gaslighting, gatekeeping, and girlbossing. (and also in my opinion the wolf-grandma-little red cottage scene is one of if not the funniest scenes in the show) [also Into the Woods is amazing & I love it & my best friend played little red]
Tweenage girl with a lot of anger. There is no stronger force on this earth
she's classic little red but she's a lot more cool she got a knife from her grandmother after the wolf incident and she wears the skin of the wolf she also interacts with other fairy tale characters and uhm she's very much a little girl with a knife she's perfect
Edgar w.bg would want you to vote for ItW
Original Fairytale:
The girl, the myth, the legend. The one who started it all. She skips into the forest with head held high, unknowing of the wolf and the many, many retellings of her story. Something, something, puberty, something, something, men are wolves. Just let my girl wear her red cape and be on her way to Granny's, please and thank you.
I feel like in a lot of modern adaptations they get lost in making Red Riding Hood more a girlboss who fights back or making her secretly (or not secretly) the real wolf or having her and the wolf be love interests, they lose a lot of what made the original fairytale so good. AND SO CHILLING! We have been told this story so often since childhood we can forget how frightening it can really be. A lost young girl, punished for the follies of childhood. I also think that even in the "happy" endings when the huntsman saves her there is this sense that she will never be the same. Her childhood is over. And that's haunting! The horrors of unprotected innocence.
#red riding poll#round 2#little red ridinghood#into the woods#broadway#broadway musicals#stephen sondheim#fairytales#folktalk#little red cap#little red riding hood#red riding hood#poll tournament#poll bracket#polls#character polls#battle of the moral stories
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Hi! Could i request aegon ii with K, T and R ❤️
Warnings: Smut. Non con slightly. Dub con. 18+
K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)
There’s not many kinks that Aegon doesn’t like, except from the really fucked up ones. I think he loves tying you up so you’re completely helpless to him. At first it was just something he wanted to try for his birthday, able to use you in ways without any protest from you. But after doing it once, he’s having to stop himself from doing it again, realising it wouldn’t be fair to have you constantly like that. But he loved having you at his mercy.
T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)
Vibrators, dildos, but plugs, you name it and Aegon has it. He likes to exhaust you during sex, overstimulating you till you’re begging for him to stop or passing out on top of him. He loves using your ass while he fucks you with a dildo in your pussy, the way you squeeze him tightly has him cumming within seconds and you along with him. He also likes watching you fuck yourself on them, bringing out a side to yourself that you didn’t even realise you had. Fucking yourself on a lubed up dildo while Aegon fists himself to the sight on his computer chair.
R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)
Aegon wants every single part of you so of course he wants to experiment. If you asked him for it, he’d do anything for you. But it’s mainly him asking, telling you he saw something in a video once or heard something from his friends. He’d love to see you use toys, to use toys on you, tie you up, be tied up. He’s okay with it all, as long as it’s with you then he’s happy with it.
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“Take Aerith somewhere safe.”
Those words had barely left the woman’s lips, when her hand fell down to the ground again. Limp and weak. She was dying… it was evident from how she looked. She had that hollow gaunt expression. There was nothing that could safe her yet. But the little girl beside her… her green eyes were full of resilient bright green.
The woman her mother had grabbed by the wrist looked at the child for a brief moment, before she knelt down and quickly searched for the healing potion in her bag… but as soon as she blinked again, she knew that the mother of the child was gone.
It was one of these very rare moments in her life, where Ida felt completely helpless. She had no control over any of this… and this child?
Little mite was still so young, right between her two son's ages, if she had to guess – and her sobs broke Ida’s heart. Carefully placing her hands on the girl’s arm and back, Ida tried to give her a little comfort, while still not tearing her away from her mother. She looked around… but there was no one close by. No father. No other family. No friends. No one cared for this little girl’s fate.
No one but Ida.
Glancing down at her – Aerith – again, Ida noticed the II on her arm. A tattoo. And in that moment her worry turned into dread. She had seen that before. That and another symbol… the child’s name, too. Aerith…
Quickly Ida undid the buttons of her coat, draping it around the girl. She could only allow her one more moment of grief for her mother, before he scooped her up. As cruel as it was, they had to hurry.
“My darling, we have to go.”
@housetummelt - Ida
@housetummelt
Aerith had tried to find a doctor to make her mother all better again, which was how she had grabbed the sleeve of this woman in her white coat and tugged for her to follow, begging for help. "Please, please help my mummy, she's sick!"
Ifalna knew this was her only chance to make things right for her daughter. Aerith, stubborn as a cat, thought all she needed to do was to find someone in a white coat to help. It was a horrible feeling, to fully realise that the only world her baby knew was one where adults wore white coats.
She reached for the woman, to hold onto the same wrist that Aerith had guided closer. She could see it in her eyes, that she wanted to help in some way. "Take Aerith somewhere safe." There was so much to explain. So much left unsaid. But it was all she had left to give. It was like in knowing that her daughter wasn't going to be alone, her body finally dared to relax...
Aerith was beside herself. Bawling and clinging to her mother, she knew that her soul was slipping away. That her mother was returning to the Planet and there was nothing to hold her back — try as she might, little hands clinging as though she could hold her mother there and make her stay. They were free now! They could live in a house together! They could grow gardens and never have to see a wheelchair again!
She cried in loud, wracking sobs. Especially when the kind woman scooped her up, her hands losing grip of her mother. Her arms remained outstretched, grasping for where her mother lifelessly laid, and there was little chance of a silent getaway with how she cried her heart out. Eventually her arms slackened, and eventually her sobs calmed to sniffles, even if the tears never did seem to fully stop. They were far from the train station now. Far from the bad men. All she could do was watch over the woman's shoulder. Take in the new sights, of streets that looked... neat. Tidy. Where they had funny pretend trees and lights that lit up all of the pathway.
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uploading data … ⟳ 𝙲𝙾𝙼𝙿𝙻𝙴𝚃𝙴 !
* ; ─ the mirrors surrounding you did as they were meant to, reflecting back a spitting image of JEON JUNGKOOK - but it’s clear something is wrong from the moment that a vision of GOING UNDER TREATMENT strikes you. perhaps it was a passing daydream in the frenzy of the funhouse. you reassure yourself - you’re HAROLD “HARRY” OSBORN, a TWENTY YEAR OLD UNIVERSITY STUDENT whose virtue lies in your + REVERENCE & + GENEROSITY, although you’ve been told that you tend to be quite - STUBBORN & - UNCERTAIN, and you’re associated with UNANSWERED CALLS, ECHOING HALLWAYS, COFFEE-STAINED PAPERS by those around you. suddenly, however, you’ve found YOUR JOURNAL on your person - was that always there? from the moment you leave the funhouse, memories from your life in MARVEL COMICS / SPIDERMAN PS4 have begun to return - leaving whoever you had been before in the mirror’s reflection behind you. you can almost hear CRYSTALISED by THE XX following in your wake. ( he/him / they/them & nonbinary masc )
tws: death, abandonment, chronic / terminal illness
ALUCARD ---- long since abandoning his deadname, harry has been known as harry for as long as he remembers, or chooses to remember at least. he’s lived in alucard all his life, having been born & raised in a happy home up until he was eighteen before staying in the dorms for college. he’s pursuing a degree in environmental law and has plans to become an environmental attorney.
THINGS TO NOTE ----
harry is nonbinary masc ! please don’t misgender him. in every thread; i’ll tag his pronouns appropriately. please use them.
harry is bisexual.
wanted connection ? click the source !
CANON ---- harry grew up in an initially loving household. his mother with her teaching him how to bake and explaining her passion for environmental responsibility. his father teaching him how to ride a bike and telling him how one day, oscorp would be his to rule. a mother who would live until she didn’t, becoming something other than living, alive in nothing but memories. a father absent from chosen isolation, after that. a father with a cold stare and cold words. he had grown up impossibly lonely with only impossible wealth to keep him company aside from his two best friends. he did his best to be the good, generous person that his mom raised him to be, but he was never quite the same after her death. a rare hereditary illness, oshtoran syndrome, that took away his mother in everything including physical, an illness that took away his father in everything but physical. he went to university for environmental law, graduated and went into getting an mba. he tried to continue his mother’s legacy in environmental law, her research stations, but he had fallen sick. desperate for a chance to live, lying to those he cared for to avoid them having to watch him die, he went under an experimental cure. the venom symbiote.
TAG DIRECTORY ----
ii. and i earned it back / abt. about.
ii. not completely helpless / beg. starter .
ii. free as a bird / vis. visuals.
ii. for the bonus round / ism. musings.
ii. how spectacular a move / int. interactions.
ii. i’ve got this on my own / aes. aesthetics.
ii. not knowing who you are / sol. solos.
ii. i know my way out / ask. ask responses.
ii. sins of the father / dyn. harry osborn & his complicated emotions regarding norman osborn.
ii. i won’t forget my family / dyn. blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb, all of the people harry considers family.
#duality.intro#ii. and i earned it back / abt.#ii. not completely helpless / beg.#ii. free as a bird / vis.#ii. for the bonus round / ism.#ii. how spectacular a move / int.#ii. i've got this on my own / aes.#ii. not knowing who you are / sol.#ii. i know my way out / ask.#ii. sins of the father / dyn.#ii. i won't forget my family / dyn.#tags.#death /#terminal illness /
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uploading data … ⟳ 𝙲𝙾𝙼𝙿𝙻𝙴𝚃𝙴 !
* ; — welcome , HAROLD “ HARRY ” OSBORN . a long way from spiderman ps4 + marvel comics , huh ? hm … a twenty year old environmental law student who looks like JEON JEONGGUK — could be worse . i heard you were at PIZZA PLANET when we un - glitched , & you ( started crying ] . still the giving & self - destructive type , that’s why [ stifiling silence in an empty house , steady beeping of an iv monitor , & shadows casted in a quiet room ]’s totally your vibe . the memory of GOING UNDER AN EXPERIMENTAL CURE is hazy , but maybe the ( leather - bound journal & a laptop full of your research stations’ data ) waiting for you at the pawn shop’ll bring clarity . + human / venom host , nonbinary masc [ he/they ] , bisexual .
tws : death , abandonment , chronic / terminal illness
BEGINNING — harry doesn’t like to remember his dead name . the name he chose is harold osborn , going by harry for everything besides standardised test taking and legal documents . compromised with his dad and earned theopolis as his middle name . he grew up in an initially loving household . his mother with her teaching him how to bake and explaining her passion for environmental responsibility . his father teaching him how to ride a bike and telling him how one day , oscorp would be his to rule . a mother who would live until she didn’t , becoming something other than living , alive in nothing but memories . a father absent from chosen isolation , after that . a father with a cold stare and cold words . he had grown up impossibly lonely with only impossible wealth to keep him company aside from his two best friends . he did his best to be the good , generous person that his mom raised him to be , but he was never quite the same after her death . a rare hereditary illness , oshtoran syndrome , that took away his mother in everything including physical , an illness that took away his father in everything but physical . he went to university for environmental law , graduated and went into getting an mba . he tried to continue his mother’s legacy in environmental law , her research stations , but he had fallen sick . desperate for a chance to live , lying to those he cared for to avoid them having to watch him die , he went under an experimental cure . the venom symbiote .
MIDDLE — long since ditched his dead name for a different name . the full name attached to him in the orphanage was harold lyman , continuing on to use harry as a preferred reference . he lived here his whole life , having went to the high school and was accepted to blackwell university as he does post - baccalaureate research in environmental science and finished his degree in environmental law .
END — when harry un - glitched and got half of his memories back , he understandably freaked out . he doesn’t remember everything , but he does remember the basic gist of what his life was like . he broke out in tears at the realisation that he hadn’t just been abandoned by his birth parents , but that in his real life ... at one point , they were a happy family . he doesn't quite know if he prefers the clean cut ties of a full abandonment in this life or if the desire for even a semblance of what a family was like in his original life would have been enough for him to be happy because he doesn’t remember being happy with that . he fully remembers his oshtoran syndrome , but he doesn’t remember the venom symbiote . as far as he knows , they were still using gr - 27 , aka devil’s breath , as the main cure to his illness . he does not know that he is currently hosting the venom symbiote or a synthesised version of it . of course , there are still plenty of things that remain foggy to him . he no longer remembers what his mother’s face looks like nor does he have any positive connections or memories surrounding his father . as far as he knows , they aren’t his family . a family can’t be a family if part of the family is gone , dead , forgotten , or a mix of the three .
SCRIBBLED IN THE MARGIN —
DESPERATE TO CONNECT ,
adopted parents / siblings ; a two for one because they’re kinda related ! if any of you want an adopted child or sibling , harry’s here if you'd like a well - meaning and well - behaved familial tie who’s just trying to do their best .
friends ; whether it be childhood friends , family friends , good / bad influences , confidants , casual friends , best friends , etc ! give this lovely one some friends , he will absolutely spoil you in words of affirmation constantly .
crushes ; ( m/f/nb ) , past crushes , mutual crushes , fleeting crushes or unrequited ones ! it's unrealistic for harry to not have had someone in his life he either had a crush on or had a crush on him .
exes ; ( m/f/nb ) , previous relationships that ended amicably or horribly , it’s entirely up to you . whether because they fell out of love , weren’t in love enough , or even something about them as people just didn’t match .
classmates ; people that harry has gone to school with , is seeing at blackwell university , etc . this one’s general on purpose ! they could have been lab mates , study partners , seatmates stuck in a general ed , so on .
TAG DIRECTORY ,
ii. and i earned it back / abt. about .
ii. not completely helpless / beg. starters .
ii. free as a bird / vis. visuals .
ii. for the bonus round / ism. musings .
ii. how spectacular a move / int. interactions .
ii. i've got this on my own / aes. aesthetics .
ii. not knowing who you are / sol. solos .
ii. i know my way out / ask. ask responses .
ii. sins of the father / dyn. harry osborn & his complicated emotions regarding norman osborn .
ii. i won't forget my family / dyn. blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb , all of the people harry considers family .
#cloud:intro#ii. and i earned it back / abt.#ii. not completely helpless / beg.#ii. free as a bird / vis.#ii. for the bonus round / ism.#ii. how spectacular a move / int.#ii. i've got this on my own / aes.#ii. not knowing who you are / sol.#ii. i know my way out / ask.#ii. sins of the father / dyn.#ii. i won't forget my family / dyn.#tags.
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@glasshvarts , peter parker .
HARRY’S FORTUNATE , OF COURSE , to have a good support system for when he's overworking himself . it's as if peter has a sixth sense for when he's distressed , really , because he's always there for him . and while harry hasn't been entirely transparent with peter , is still hiding the fact that things have been off with him , but he doesn't want to worry and weigh his best friend down with all of his issues . so , instead , he's throwing himself into his work . at least ... this way , he can't lie if peter has no opportunity to ask him if he's okay . it's so incredibly hard enough just to lie to adam that he's okay . to peter ? he doesn't know if he'd sound even remotely convincing .
BUT WHEN HE SEES PETER walk over , he doesn't resist the smile that finds its way on his face . “ hey pete , ” he runs a tired hand through his hair , “ please tell me that you've had a better day than me . ” and after a beat as well , “ and that you haven't had lunch , so we can grab something together . ”
#glasshvarts#glasshvarts. / peter parker.#thread. harry osborn & peter parker. / 001.#ii. how spectacular a move / int.#ii. not completely helpless / beg.
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of lovers and liars.
↳ suna rintarou/fem!reader
genre. play, tragedy, historical, angst
tags/warnings. written in script format, usage of archaic language, very ooc, sexual abuse/harassment (not involving the ml), tyranny, beheading, blood, murder, arranged marriage, polygyny, minor and major character death
notes. saint playwright era?? lmaoaoa here’s something short to read. 3.7k wc. it’s an old work of mine from college (which i have re-written completely). header is from the wished you were dead manhwa. let’s ignore the fact that the hq boys have japanese names while the rest of the characters don’t hahah
ACT I-II -> ACT III-IV -> ACT V-VI -> ACT VII (FINAL)
PROLOGUE
Here lies the tragic story of a fair damsel
Whose misery and misfortunes beget her loss
But a savior of her grace awaits in a holy chapel
Of lovers, uniting where stars do not cross
Of liars, no heartaches will he aim to mend
For the end is the beginning and the beginning is the end
ACT I
SCENE I. At the plaza in the Athain Empire.
Enter YOU and LADY CASSIA, from the house of Vestalis, among the crowd watching the public execution of Earl Caius and Countess Isilia Vestalis who are both in pillories in the middle of the town square.
YOU
(held back by knights, tears running down your cheek) Stop! Let go of Mama and Papa! H-Have me a word with His Majesty, I-I will bargain for my parents’ lives. Please… Set them free, I-I beg all of you!
KNIGHT 1
Besiege if you must, but they will go on deaf ears. No amount of pleading can change an imperial decree, you foolish girl! (sniggering with the other knights)
KNIGHT 2
(to the knight) Is she not the only daughter of the house of Vestalis? The very lady who incited the malicious slander towards our great emperor’s son?
KNIGHT 1
Ay, but a young flower like her will only be warranted with exile, and before that, she is still ripe enough to warm our noblemen’s beds. Even us, their men, are free to take her chastity and pass her around! (laughing)
YOU
Disgusting pigs! Is an innocent woman’s misfortune something to laugh upon? (resisting their hold, sobbing in despair) Is the ill-fate of someone such a celebration, sir?
LADY CASSIA
(pulling you away from the knights) My poor lady, I beg for your safety, let us retreat—
YOU
Leave my parents be for they only defended their helpless daughter! It is the Crown Prince Fionn who deserves punishment for harassing me, a vestal woman who did no wrong. Being the emperor’s son does not excuse him for his wrongdoings!
KNIGHT 1
Silence that filthy mouth! (slaps you) Tainting the imperial name will bring you no good, lady.
Murmurs from the surrounding crowd ensues—those of pity for the downfallen noble family while fearing for their own. The Imperial Order of Knights all gather around the Earl and the Countess, preparing them for guillotine.
KNIGHT COMMANDER
Enough! People of Athain, these traitors before you are punish’d with reason. Possess your mind with gratitude as you are not the one subjected under the horrors of those blades. Now, step back and be a witness to how justice is serv’d under His Majesty’s rule!
Anyone, even those of nobles, are not spared of public execution should slander be done towards the imperial family.
(to the knights) Make haste and behead them!
YOU
N-No—!
EARL CAIUS
My daughter, leave now! Do not torture your eyes with the image of our slaughter.
LADY CASSIA
Young lady! (takes you in her arms) Let me in on your sorrow. Your father and mother do not wish to have you witness their death. Come, I will take care of you.
COUNTESS ISILIA
Live long, my child! Be as far away from this empire as you can. (smiles weakly at you, head and wrists secured at the bottom of the wooden frame)
YOU
No, Mama, Papa! (wailing, running off to your parents) This is my fault. Had I just silenced my woes and let that cruel man be. O, our holy goddess Athena, I pray to you. Please protect my parents from this injustice. Let them go, let them go—
Blades are then released—fresh blood splattering onto your cheek as two decapitated bodies have separated from their heads. You fall on your knees with wide eyes, trembling and horrified at the macabre sight. The Earl and the Countess are thus beheaded.
Exeunt
SCENE II. At the Faren Empire. A room in the palace.
Enter EMPRESS DOWAGER and DUKE RINTAROU
DUKE RINTAROU
You call’d for my presence, Your Majesty?
EMPRESS DOWAGER
Indeed, I have. (sits on her throne) A proposal is what I offer you, my young duke. A messenger bird from a neighboring empire arrived last eve.
DUKE RINTAROU
A message from Athain?
EMPRESS DOWAGER
From a noble family, that is. Do you remember Earl Caius of Athain? He is a man I owe my husband’s honor. A man from a foreign land who saved my husband from war twenty five years ago. He now finds himself in need of a favor from me. (turns to the window, forlornly)
Such a tragic fate befell his family and a poor daughter who has not seen better days—left behind and exiled from their land. The Earl and his Countess are to be executed. Or, hereinbelow, have been.
DUKE RINTAROU
What crimes have they committed to receive such a pitiful punishment?
Enter the twins, EMPEROR ATSUMU and CROWN PRINCE OSAMU, both in training armor
EMPEROR ATSUMU
They are deemed profaners to the imperial family, enemies of their good name. Crown Prince Fionn sexually assaulted a daughter of Vestalis during the banquet, but that’s only hearsay. Who’s to say that the lady was not lying?
CROWN PRINCE OSAMU
Careful, now. That angel you malign is Rin’s betrothed.
DUKE RINTAROU
(turns to Osamu, defensive) Of what angel you speak of will be my wife? I have twice that burden in my estate. The first, a noble woman my heart did not seek but espoused at the request of my late father. The second, a widow of my half-brother, and I, obligated to be the paternal figure to their daughter.
EMPRESS DOWAGER
Our empire approves the polygamy of up to three wives. You have room for one more, do you not?
DUKE RINTAROU
But Empress, I pay no interest in adding another to my household, especially one who comes from a foreign land, one whose name I don't even know of. My troublesome wives are enough to deal with as is.
EMPRESS DOWAGER
Think of it as a chivalrous duty to save yet another woman’s dignity. She is left to fend for herself—if not protected, will be mercilessly preyed upon like a lost deer in a forest full of hunters. The lady ought to receive nobility in our land to replace her tarnished name, and what better choice there is than someone as valiant as you, my young duke?
DUKE RINTAROU
(contemplating) If the banished lady will flee to Faren, thousands of nobles alike are there to take her. Wherefore even your sons can do so—have her take their name and live in this palace you take shelter on.
Yet tell me not for I know what you will say. Sons of the imperial family cannot marry an exiled woman for diplomatic reasons, much less that of a fallen noble from an empire led by a tyrant ruler. And therefore, this choice leaves you with me. A duke high in nobility, but neither regal nor monarchal enough to cause conflict against a neighboring empire. What freewill do I have when an empress who is like my own mother makes such an order?
EMPRESS DOWAGER
(smiles, walks forward to embrace him) It gladdens me that you understand. Your kindness will be rewarded, my dear. Any request you have in return, I shall grant reasonably.
CROWN PRINCE OSAMU
When has our soft-hearted Rin not appeased you, mother? (patting the duke’s shoulder)
EMPEROR ATSUMU
That softness you mean is nought but a hard shell outside. So often did I see your moue, Rin. Are your wives quarreling again?
DUKE RINTAROU
And ne’er will it end now that another woman is to become my wife. (turns to the empress, sighing) The lady I am bound to by marriage, is she peregrinating alone out of Athain?
EMPRESS DOWAGER
A carriage awaits her near the borders by nightfall, and erelong the wedding shall the lady arrive. Worry not, your other wives will be apprised. Your presence is all that I require.
Exit EMPRESS DOWAGER
CROWN PRINCE OSAMU
What burdens your mind, Rin?
DUKE RINTAROU
(leaning against the wall) I know nothing of her name, nor her face, nor the person that she is. To call her exquisite is what a liar will serve, to call her wretched will dub me a callous man.
But if she’s proven to be another nuisance to my household, I will let her live in a separate hall so we do not cross paths. Only by pity and responsibility am I marrying that woman.
EMPEROR ATSUMU
Well, aren’t you so cold? (sniggering) How much do I bet you will find love with your third wife this time around?
DUKE RINTAROU
Bet as you like it, then I will be the richest in this empire.
They laugh and continue to banter.
EMPEROR ATSUMU
She must be the fairest girl in town if Prince Fionn took notice of her.
DUKE RINTAROU
Having a man forcing himself on her, regardless of his imperial status, is never a compliment.
EMPEROR ATSUMU
Ay, I know, I know! Howbeit, my point still stands. How beautiful could this lady be that a prince would recklessly and desperately do such a horrid attempt on her?
DUKE RINTAROU
(falls silent, ruminating) Come to think of it, my current wives can be disdainful towards each other. How much more for this foreign woman who was exiled and accused of vilifying a crown prince? They will insult her to no end.
CROWN PRINCE OSAMU
And given that she is as fair as we imagine, your first wife Hera will be enraged. Lady Ci’an may be more humane, but she is just as possessive of you. Isn’t that a disastrous storm awaiting? (chuckling) Now, take your mind off things and practice sword fighting with us.
Exeunt
SCENE III. In a carriage.
Enter YOU, staring at the window with LADY CASSIA rubbing your shoulder.
LADY CASSIA
Cry it all out, my darling. Let all tears fall like rain on a heavy storm. That grief of yours will soon find light, away from the darkness that clouded you in Athain and all its land.
YOU
(bawling silently) I weep not for my own, but for my humble parents whose reputation was besmirched because of me. O, this pain in my chest! How they died will be ingrained in my memory, haunting me eternally.
LADY CASSIA
My child, pass the blame not onto yourself. Your parents did what they can to defend your honor, but the despot that runs our empire will always prevail. Erase those atrocious memories and live a better life in Faren.
YOU
In Faren, you say? (wipes your eyes) It is by my knowledge that I am banished. I have no means to travel to Faren.
LADY CASSIA
Before the execution, your father has sent a message to the bounden empress dowager, requesting if they could offer you a good life in Faren in exchange for saving Her Majesty’s husband from a war some years ago.
Another carriage awaits you on the borders of Athain, and thereupon you will be journeying to Faren with a new life, new title, and new household.
YOU
Whose household will take a fallen woman like myself?
LADY CASSIA
You are betrothed to a duke; his third wife is what you shall become. Her Majesty the Empress assures that the gentleman is not someone you should fear.
YOU
(in despair) Regardless!
Wherefore is my cruel fate neverending? To be disrespected by men, to see my parents’ perishing before my eyes, and now to marry a stranger in a faraway land who may do me harm in any way he can. Am I not easily sold like a flower in the market? Is pity not something I deserve, but owe? Is choosing to love freely not a choice, but a privilege?
LADY CASSIA
Now, now. Beggars cannot be choosers, but be indebted that you will be regarded as a noble in an empire that is willing to welcome you, an orphan of this sorrowful life. You will not be a maid nor a mistress, but a wife of a duke. You will have food on your table, a bed for your comfort—this is your father’s dying wish. Honor it, my dear.
YOU
(stares outside of the window, praying) Holy goddess Athena, I seek your guidance.
LADY CASSIA
And She shall guide you. Have faith.
Exeunt
ACT II
SCENE I. At the imperial chapel in Faren.
Enter DUKE RINTAROU at the altar, EMPEROR ATSUMU, CROWN PRINCE OSAMU, EMPRESS DOWAGER, a pastor, a few nobles, and some imperial knights, all in attendance for the simple wedding.
EMPEROR ATSUMU
Nervous?
DUKE RINTAROU
(rigid) A bride whose face I am yet to see. Who wouldn’t be?
EMPRESS DOWAGER
She arrived two nightfalls ago; from morn to eve, the palace maids have cleaned her, dress’d her, and made her bloom like a daisy in an orchard. Be at ease, my young duke. The lady is soft-spoken and unassuming.
O, here comes the bride!
Enter YOU, in a wedding dress and a gossamer white veil, holding a bouquet of irises as you walk down the aisle. The duke sees that you are hiding melancholy in your eyes.
CROWN PRINCE OSAMU
(mumbling) So should that beauty put you at ease, Rin.
You meet a speechless Rintarou at the altar where he offers a hand; both of you turn to the pastor with not another word spoken.
PASTOR
At high noon, here we gather to witness the union of Rintarou Suna and Y/N Vestalis;
Joining hands with which will bring them as one
Unfolding eternal happiness from this holy matrimony
And exchanging vows from one’s own breath to prove their undying love
Together, bride and groom, do you accept this holy marriage?
DUKE RINTAROU
(eyes scanning your face) I vow to stand before her as her husband.
YOU
And I, to him as his wife.
Exeunt
SCENE II. At the grand hall.
Enter YOU, overhearing the gossips from the noblewomen of high society.
LADY LUCILLE
(murmuring to other nobles, covering her mouth with a handled brise) Hearsay it is that the duke’s third wife is an exiled lady from Athain.
LADY AIMI
What a disgrace she brings! Wherefore does Her Majesty approve this marriage? The poor handsome duke had to wed her out of sympathy instead of saving that third marriage for someone his heart truly seeks.
LADY LUCILLE
Ah, but Duchess Hera will put her in place. Soon as they meet, it is doubtful that she will be treated with kindness in their household.
The noble ladies laugh scornfully as you pass by.
YOU
(whispering to yourself) Belittle me more for I have heard worse.
Enter DUKE RINTAROU
DUKE RINTAROU
My lady?
YOU
Y-Your Grace. How now, have you been standing there for long?
DUKE RINTAROU
No, pardon my disappearance. I was speaking to Atsumu. (offers a hand) Care to have our first dance?
YOU
(takes his hand; both of you dance gracefully) His Majesty the Emperor, you mean? You seem to speak of him so casually.
DUKE RINTAROU
He’s a childhood friend of mine. Him and his brother alike.
YOU
And that’s why the empress entrusts you with such a request as well.
DUKE RINTAROU
(nodding) Have you spoken to Her Majesty?
YOU
Merely to welcome me to Faren and console me from my…
DUKE RINTAROU
Grief? I’ve heard. That must have left you scarred.
YOU
Scarred, no less. But my anguish is not enough for you to take the burden of this loveless marriage. I understand if you completely dislike me, Duke. Detest me, even, for I am a stranger to your eyes.
I am at the mercy of your kindness, and so I will not seek the Duke’s love nor will I seek any affection from a man whose only responsibility is to save my grace. See to it that I will know my place as your third wife. I will stay away from your path, live and die quietly alone, and never dishonor your name.
DUKE RINTAROU
(stops, squeezes your hand) My lady, you overcompensate.
YOU
It is only fair to you that I do so. You have two wives to take better care of.
DUKE RINTAROU
Two wives I hold no affection for.
YOU
Still and all; they are honorable ladies that you are married to. I am nothing more but an orphan to your house.
DUKE RINTAROU
Then, how can you assure that you are someone I can trust? If I speak from my honest mind, I find it difficult to assume that you will not cause me trouble. You caught yourself entangled in a scandal with a crown prince, and rumor has it that you seduced him, then tainted his name after you were rejected. Now I am forced to take you in as my wife, do you understand where I am getting at?
Tears brim your eyes after hearing his accusations. Harrowing memories of the recent events form in your mind, disquieting you from this night of waltzes and classical music.
YOU
Your Grace, I wouldn’t sacrifice my parents’ lives for something so selfish. No solipsistic concern is enough for me to let my family be slain before my eyes! Be at your own judgement, but the goddess Athena knows that my soul is clean and that no lies carry this heart of mine. I am simply a victim of injustice!
DUKE RINTAROU
My lady, I wasn’t intending to offend.
You wipe your eyes and take a step back, refusing to meet the Duke’s eyes.
YOU
None taken. You do right with your honest sentiments.
Exit YOU
LADY AIMI
Your Grace! Your Grace, how insolent can that woman be? So self-righteous is she, when she’s the one who’s been accepted by you!
LADY LUCILLE
Her display of conceit is revolting! That lowly woman was banished from Athain for a good reason. Leave it to us to teach her a lesson, Duke.
DUKE RINTAROU
(serious) The lady you speak ill of is my wife. Touch a single strand of her hair and you will lose all of yours at my word.
Exit DUKE RINTAROU
THE NOBLE LADIES
B-But Duke!
Exeunt
SCENE III. A guest room in the palace. Night time.
Enter YOU, sitting at the window seat and overseeing the palace’s rose garden. You touch the necklace that your father gave you, sighing morosely.
YOU
The sky weeps with me, Mama and Papa. Wherever you may be, I hope eternal rest finds your way as I, too, wish to find it soon.
Enter EMPRESS DOWAGER, approaching you by the window. You stand up at once and offer a curtsy to the empress.
EMPRESS DOWAGER
Lady Y/N, why have tears sought your eyes?
YOU
Your Imperial Majesty, it is my parents that I long for on this cold eve.
EMPRESS DOWAGER
Your husband shall join you here to warm you with his comfort soon. In the meantime, I am here to offer some advice.
YOU
Advice, Your Majesty?
EMPRESS DOWAGER
Tonight, be at peace in this palace. Tomorrow, be prepared as you will be lodging at Rintarou’s manor. Two wives live at his household; Duchess Hera, his first wife who is a noble of high social status, is a possessive woman that loves him passionately. Lady Ci’an, his second wife who is a widow of his half-brother, is a prideful woman who seeks his equal love and attention. It might intimidate you to find a place in his home, but learn to use your mind and ne’er your emotions when it comes to dealing with both women.
YOU
Empress, if I may ask, why is it that you find it easy to trust me?
EMPRESS DOWAGER
Because I am indebted to your father. I know what kind of man he is and I trust what kind of person he raised you. He is the reason I was able to spend twenty more years with my husband before he died of illness last winter.
YOU
Had it not been for my father, I would be sleeping with an empty stomach in a desolate land.
EMPRESS DOWAGER
Therefore, you shall live for him and for your mother. You were given a chance at life to begin anew, so live long and prosper.
Enter DUKE RINTAROU
DUKE RINTAROU
Empress? What is Your Majesty’s will?
EMPRESS DOWAGER
Ah, it is only a quick visit so I can speak to your wife. (turns to you) Remember my words, my dear. I shall send you off tomorrow. Rest you merry!
Exit EMPRESS DOWAGER. You and the duke both curtsy to the empress before her lady-in-waiting shuts the door to your room. The duke approaches you closer, but you move away.
DUKE RINTAROU
My lady, about earlier…
YOU
Your Grace, I-I apologize for letting my emotions get the best of me.
DUKE RINTAROU
(takes another step closer) No, you were right. I spoke recklessly.
YOU
I stand by my word. I vow to never be burdensome to you. Do not feel obligated to spend our wedding night together for none of this is favorable to you.
DUKE RINTAROU
What kind of man would I be to leave my wife in this palace alone?
The duke starts unbuttoning his shirt and reaches for a robe. Your hands begin to shake, a flashback of Prince Fionn’s assault entering your mind. By instinct, you fall on your knees and beg for mercy.
YOU
D-Duke, please don’t. I know my marital obligations, but s-since you and I are not in love, I thought you wouldn’t want anything more from me.
DUKE RINTAROU
(confused) My lady, get up. What are you talking about?
YOU
Y-Your Grace…
You tremble as you watch him tie the knot on his robe. The duke recognizes the fear and trauma in your eyes, prompting him to pull you up in comfort.
DUKE RINTAROU
I’m not that kind of man. Is it my presence that discomforts you? You and I are husband and wife; it is only right for us to sleep on the same bed. But beyond that, I have no other malicious intentions.
YOU
(breathing deeply) I’m sorry, i-it was a misjudgment on my part.
DUKE RINTAROU
Then, go to sleep. Pay me no mind. (pats your head) Only tonight will we share this bed.
YOU
Duke..?
DUKE RINTAROU
Yes?
YOU
Your other wives. I can see why they love you dearly.
DUKE RINTAROU
Yet there’s no one I love the same. All that I do is for someone else and never myself. (stares at the ceiling, breathing calmly)
Good night, my wife.
Exeunt
to be continued…
hq general taglist: @x-cloudyyyy @cottonheadedninnymugggins @centvry @kageyamakock @sunnsettee @bluesylveon2 @cuddlesslut @mysteriousparker @asdfghjkl7things @02hhsailor @anejuuuuoy @minswags-posts @chemnerdkuroo @tanakax123 @oikawa-bubs @lust4keiji @tsumuuwu @daylghits @ems1des @the-golden-jhope @wonyoschubs @melty-kisses @softy-woo @dekuspet @kittycatkrissa
#suna rintaro x reader#suna rintaro x you#suna rintarou x reader#suna rintarou x you#suna angst#suna rintaro angst#suna rintarou angst
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an understanding
pairing: obi-wan kenobi x reader (gender neutral; no y/n)
warnings: buncha angst, sad obi-wan, deals with grief and loss
summary: as the two of you grow together, there is one constant of support between you and obi-wan; understanding, and the comfort of each other’s hands
also posted on ao3
this is kind of short but that’s okay. someone give obi-wan a hug
I.
“You took my spot.” You announced your presence, although you’re sure Obi-Wan already sensed it, as you had been standing at the entrance to the roof watching him for a few moments already. The both of you often came up to the roof of the Temple, finding your way up here when you were just beginning to be padawans, sneaking out at night together to get up to whatever shenanigans you pleased before someone inevitably caught you. From then on, you had learned to be more careful about it.
When Obi-Wan didn’t answer, his head still turned towards the night skyline, you came to sit next to him. You could feel the anxiety and grief radiating off of him. Another nightmare tonight. If he had even gotten any sleep at all. Not only could you sense his tired state, but he was also visibly shivering, but seemed to be ignoring it.
“Stars, you’re freezing, Obi,” you murmured, shrugging off the cloak you had fortunately thrown on before climbing up to the roof. You wrapped it around the both of you, squishing yourself against his side. “What’s wrong?”
“Oh, nothing,” He scoffed, uncharacteristically bitter. His eyes were glassy, clearly having cried already, and not far off from succumbing to his tears again. “I miss him. And I know I’m not supposed to be dwelling on it like this. I have to train Anakin and I’m not ready. I’m not ready to be a Knight. Everything is moving too fast.” You bit the inside of your cheek and wondered if he could hear your heart shatter for him. The Force had dealt Obi-Wan the worst cards in existence it seemed, one after the other, rushing him into the responsibilities of a Jedi Knight and the grief of the loss of a mentor all at once, and far too soon.
“I miss him, too,” you laid a comforting hand on his cheek, a tear slipping down and landing on the pad of your thumb. You gently rubbed it away, sighing. “Qui-Gon was so proud of you, Ben. He trusted you with his wishes because he believed you could fulfill them. He was confident in your competence and skill as both a Knight and a mentor.”
“How do you know that?” He whispered, screwing his eyes shut. Pieces turned to dust in your heart as you watched and felt your closest and dearest friend in so much pain. Pain that he knew he shouldn’t be letting consume him, which threw guilt into the whirlwind of emotions he was already feeling.
“I felt it,” you tilted your head at him in sincerity. “I heard it. Every time he spoke to you, about you. You were his son, as you think of him your father.” You slid your hand to his jaw. “No one would be ready for the position you’ve been put in. But, Obi-Wan,” you dropped your hand into your lap. “You can do this. If anyone can get through this, you can. You’re the best of us all.” Obi-Wan turned away, staring out at the stars again, his hand immediately reaching up to where his padawan braid had been just days before, now gone at his passage into Knighthood. Not knowing what to do, he rubbed his shaky palm against his pants repeatedly, trying to wipe off the clamminess that wasn’t there. Without thinking, you reached down to touch his hand. He immediately took it in both hands, beginning to play with your fingers, occasionally running his thumb over the back of your hand, which seemed to ease his nerves. “You’re not alone,” you took this moment to remind him. “I’m here for you, always.” Obi-Wan turned to you then, locking his eyes with yours in desperation. In hope. An understanding passed silently between the two of you as you pressed against his side, your hand still in his, and leaned your head on his shoulder. Care. And love.
II.
It was a cloudy night as you walked mindlessly around the halls of the Temple, which were empty and abrasively quiet. That did nothing but spur on your nervous headspace as you continued pacing, pulling your cloak, which was actually Obi-Wan’s, closer around you. You hadn’t given it back to him yet from your last mission together, where it had gotten chilly on the journey back to Coruscant, and he had given it to you as a blanket while you slept. Your thoughts trailed back to him, and a blush crossed your face at the thought.
Before you knew it, you had ended up at a certain familiar door in the hall of living quarters in the Temple. It was as if the brief passing thought of Obi-Wan had steered you in his direction out of pure instinct. You stared at his door for a long moment, and just as you raised your hand to knock, the door whooshed open to reveal the man that had crossed your mind only briefly, his shoulder-length hair tousled, clad in only some lounging trousers.
“Are you alright?” His eyebrows drew up in concern, clearly feeling your distress grow strong as you let your already withering walls fully drop around him. “Come here, dearest.” He pulled you into his quarters, leading you to sit on his bed with him, where a mug of tea sat on his nightstand, his holopad laying near his pillow. It was late at night, but it wasn’t a surprise that the man was still awake. It was a wonder how he functioned when he rarely slept. Before you could protest, he stood and began to pour you tea of your own out of the batch he had already made, pressing your own mug into your hands. You managed a small smile in thanks to him, a sip from the tea providing you comfort, but not nearly as much as his presence. “What’s got you pacing around the Temple this late?”
“I dunno, I—” you sighed, shaking your head. “This war, the council, the code, everything just feels like too much right now. I’m thinking things I shouldn’t,” you paused, running a hand over your face in frustration. “I don’t even know what I’m thinking anymore.” Obi-Wan laid a comforting hand on your back, urging you to go on. “I just can’t help but think all sides in this war are flawed, including the Jedi, and not just the council’s decisions. The code as well. Everything is just so—so completely twisted. And unfair. It’s tiring to see.” Tears burned at the back of your throat, thinking of all the injustice you had encountered, but not had the resources to fix over the first few months of the Clone Wars that had already transpired. Jedi were peacekeepers, meant to help, but how could there have ever been peace, even before the war, if so many societies were struggling to survive?
“I don’t disagree with you,” Obi-Wan mused, sliding his hand away from your back to rest on the bed behind you. He stroked his beard thoughtfully. “Nothing in this world is perfect, especially when concerning war. It’s good to have skepticism, it is what keeps things in balance.” He watched you fondly as you stared down at the warm mug in your hands, deep in thought as you mulled over his words. “We are doing what we can, and I know that sometimes it may not feel like enough, but sometimes that is all we can do. It is all that you can do, and you do more than most, darling. It is unfortunate, but even the Jedi cannot fix everything. You cannot fix everything.”
“It doesn’t feel like it, Obi,” you sighed, setting your tea aside next to his on the nightstand. “I just hate all of this.” You clenched your now empty hands in your lap, so tightly your fingernails pressed into your palms.
“It will be alright,” he told you softly, sincerely. “You are not alone.” Obi-Wan reached over and placed his hands over your fists, gently massaging them open. His warm palms touched yours, thumb running over the side of your hand to soothe you. You almost stopped breathing when he raised his head slightly, leaning forward to press his lips to your forehead. The affection warmed you all over, your stomach twisting in the most pleasant way. “Do you want to sleep here tonight?” A smile crossed your lips as you nodded, remembering when you were padawans, and he used to sneak into your quarters at night when he couldn’t sleep, begging to share your bed with you. It was a miracle you never got caught.
Obi-Wan left briefly to put away your mugs, and you took the opportunity to slip underneath the blankets and get comfortable. He returned only a little after you had settled in, flicking off his lamp and sliding in next to you. There were a few unsure moments of stillness before you felt him nudge his body close to yours, and his front pressing to your back, an arm slipping beneath your neck, his other settling on your waist.
“Is this alright?” He murmured against your neck, and you whispered back your affirmation, settling into the warmth of his embrace. Your breathing began to slow and even out, matching his, where you could feel little puffs against your neck from where he had pressed his nose there.
As you began to drift off, you felt his hand gently slide down to find yours resting against your stomach. He pushed his fingers between the spaces of yours, giving it a gentle squeeze, and rubbing his thumb up and down the back of your hand in a soothing repetition.
III.
A strange silence filled the air as you and Obi-Wan settled into the small tavern room you were staying in for the night before you could find an appropriately discreet and permanent residence on Tattooine. So much had happened, but it was difficult to put any of it into words, and felt almost pointless to speak of, when you felt helpless in the aftermath of it all. Anakin, Padmé, the twins, the fall of the republic, the extinction of the Jedi Order. It was too much. How were you supposed to move on?
You swallowed the coming tears yet again, changing into a fresh pair of civvie sleep clothes you had managed to buy at a market you had passed on the way into town. You turned to where Obi-Wan was sitting, still as a statue at the edge of the bed, already dressed down in just his trousers for sleep. The silence continued as you sat next to him, close as can be, your sides touching as a form of comfort. Out of what now had become a habit when the two of you were alone, Obi-Wan grabbed your hand to hold. A melancholy smile crossed your face at the familiarity. You may have lost everything, but you still had each other.
“I love you,” Obi-Wan’s strained voice, holding back tears, cracked the silence of the dim room. “I’ve loved you since we were padawans. I need you to know that. I can’t seem to tell people that until it’s too late.” His voice cracked on the last word, and a jolt of bitter regret surged through his signature, so strong you could have physically flinched.
“I know, Obi,” you told him softly, reaching up to run your hand through his hair comfortingly. “So did Anakin. You were a brother to him, just the same as he was to you.” You murmured, squeezing his hand in reassurance. More silence passed between the two of you, accented by occasional creaks of other patrons moving around through the thin walls. Ever so gently, you channeled a push of affection in the Force towards him, enveloping him in its warmth. “I love you. We’re going to be alright.” He finally met your gaze as you spoke to him, the both of you with silent tears slipping down your face. He took your face in his hands, running his thumbs over your cheeks. He leaned close to press his forehead against yours, closing his eyes.
“We’re going to be alright,” he echoed, sighing and trying desperately to steady himself, as much as he could. “As long as I am with you, I know we’re going to be alright.” He seemed to be reassuring himself just as much as offering comfort to you. You closed the gap between the two of you in a kiss, one that was far past overdue. It seemed to last forever, the two of you basking in the closeness of each other, the relief of finally airing your feelings, as well as being able to let a positive emotion free, let that take over rather than the overbearing sadness that weighed heavy on your mind, and was sure to make rebuilding your lives tough. But you could get through it. For each other. With each other. That feeling of certainty surrounded the both of you as you pulled away, although tinged with grief and loss, it was still reassurance just the same. You were not alone.
#obi wan x reader#obi-wan kenobi x reader#star wars fic#obi wan fluff#obi wan angst#my fics#obi wan needs a hug
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You are the only one of my followees that I set alarm on new posts.
Anywhoo I’m certain that you’ll have 1000+ asks same as mine, but here goes: I was hoping to see your thoughts on J’s performances on the finale.
Top grade acting. This was one of Jensen’s best performances. He’s always his strongest when it’s about Dean and Sam’s angst.
The shock of the traumatic wound kept most of the pain at bay, similarly when Sam was stabbed in the back in season 2 and Sam barely had time to feel the pain before dying. Dean could feel his life draining away and took several shallow breaths to draw more oxygen in to keep himself going because he wants to spend the last few remaining minutes with Sam and make sure his baby brother will be strong enough to move on. Because as the dad/big brother, he needs to make sure his family will be okay.
Jensen kept his voice low, even, and soothing because 1) Dean needs to keep calm to keep Sam from losing it completely, and 2) Dean needs to save his strength to focus completely on Sam and Jensen performed masterfully by eschewing most of his acting tics except for his expressive eyes and nuanced facial expression. Gone is Dean’s bravado, Jensen distilled Dean down to his core and we saw his vulnerablity when he begged Sam to tell him it’s going to be okay, his faith in Sam’s strength, and his last breath. He can finally rest and be at peace.
Sam mourning Dean’s passing is different from Dean’s previous violent deaths that were brought on by scheming angels and demons. This time it was the same kind of deaths that fells most hunters, so gone are the desperation and rage and helplessness and replaced by quiet grief and sarrow. Jared played Sam’s grief as a person with a hole in his heart, his movements slower and his voice barely audible because he’s living with half-functioning organs as he tries to remember Dean’s earlier lesson:
Sam honored Dean by living his life and we see him smile for the first time when he held his son, Dean II, in his arms. This is the Sam we are used to seeing and we see it again when he plays baseball with his son and again when he tutors his son and looking proud, his son soaking in Sam’s pride and joy. We see the quiet grief again and when a much older Sam sits in the Impala driver seat, grasp the steering wheel and feels Dean’s promise that he will always be with Sam. Now a geriatric, Sam quietly dies with his son by his side watching over him. He leaves with some reluctance because he doesn’t want to leave his son but he knows it is the right time. Through these scenes Sam never spoke but we know everything he is feeling. After 15 seasons we know Sam so well in part thanks to consistent writing and Jared has always been very good at conveying Sam’s emotions without using words and the montage of Sam’s post-Dean life took full advantage of it.
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ROUND 1B! MATCH 1 OUT OF 8
Propaganda Under the Cut:
Little Red Ridinghood:
Aside from giving her several good songs, the plot of the musical explores the lessons she takes away from her adventure and continues past her "Happily Ever After." Her new found maturity is represented by her giving away her riding hood and replacing it with the pelt of the big bad wolf. (And she begins carrying a cartoonishly large knife for self defense.)
She wears the Wolf's fur as a coat after her grandma kills him. She gives her cloak to the Baker to help him. She's a badass. She's only a kid. She taunts Jack into going up the beanstalk again.
She's just a feral child tbh. One of her lines in THE VERY FIRST SONG, delivered totally casually, is "into the woods, to bring some bread to granny who is sick in bed! Never can tell what lies ahead, for all that I know, she's already dead!" Everyone else gets a major life change by the end of Act I - Cinderella goes from being a maid to a princess, the baker and his wife have a child, and Jack goes from being poor to being rich - and Little Red just goes from being a feral child to being a feral child WITH A KNIFE, which she constantly brandishes in Act II! And she gets a cool wolfskin cloak to boot. She also goes through Trauma and Losing Her Family in Act II. Poor meowmeow. She has a sweet tooth too and on the way to Granny's house she eats half the loaf of bread and all of the MANY sweets she has in her basket... so silly. She also has AUTISTIC SWAG!! Constantly misses social cues, super bouncy and excited! Basically she's just the ultimate scrunkly and you should all vote for her
She’s so cool and sings cool songs :)
(Spoilers) Bratty little girl who has no value of life in Act 1, forced to reckon with the consequences of everyone's selfish actions as a mourning and vengeful Giantess widow tears through the land in Act 2.
The most iconic little shit. I love her. Has a knife and laughs while threatening people off with it. Allowed to be more than just naïve. 10/10.
the movie is SO SUCKS and she is SO BADASS i love her. please please i'm begging you use the stage musical version instead of the movie
SHES SO GREAT like ohmygod first of all she’s written in such a real way? like she’s not completely helpless just cause she’s a little girl but she’s also not a cold unfeeling girlboss just cause she has a knife (unless you’re watching the movie but the movie sucks). she acts like a kid would really act in these situations. it’s a little depressing to think about cause it’s so widespread for media not to do this, but for all the shallow, surface level girlbossery in modern media, it’s refreshing to see that sondheim treated the women in his art like people. they didn’t have to be held to any sort of standard just by nature of being women. they are just themselves.
She's got really awesome songs + she's just a hungry little girl who wants some food and also to go see her grandmother. We get to see her process grief and learn how to be on her own and then we get to see her learn that she doesn't have to be alone because "no one is alone". We see her grow from a naive little girl to a girl who lashes out at everything so she doesn't end up in danger again into a girl who wants to look out for and be there for people because they are alone just like she was and she doesn't want them to have to feel like she did. Also she has a knife and she's not afraid to use it. Her first cape is somewhat magical and is used in a potion to reverse a curse and give this couple a baby and then her second cape is really cool and made out of the skins of the wolf. She group effort helped kill a giant through gaslighting, gatekeeping, and girlbossing. (and also in my opinion the wolf-grandma-little red cottage scene is one of if not the funniest scenes in the show) [also Into the Woods is amazing & I love it & my best friend played little red]
Tweenage girl with a lot of anger. There is no stronger force on this earth
she's classic little red but she's a lot more cool she got a knife from her grandmother after the wolf incident and she wears the skin of the wolf she also interacts with other fairy tale characters and uhm she's very much a little girl with a knife she's perfect
Jenny:
Jenny is a character who, despite functioning as little red riding hood in the play, has a massive amount of development aside from that. Also: in the end, she goes from playing Red to taking over the role of the Wolf from its previous owner. The play is really cool and I love her character and I'd give you more info on her if I wasn't about to pass out
#red riding poll#round 1#round 1b#little red ridinghood#little girl#into the woods#jenny#in the forest she grew fangs#little red riding hood#red riding hood#polls#character polls#poll tournament#poll bracket#battle of the musicals
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Bonjour! I gotta say, I love your work, especially when it comes to sedation whumps. I know you've gotten several lately, but I can request a friend/whumpee one where the whumpee is afraid of needles? Thank you so much!!!
Bonjour! *gets the song from Beauty and the Beast stuck in my head* Thank you for this ask! I’ve combined this ask with another one about fear of needles, with the addition that the whumpee freaks out when approached with a needle. I feel like I am just so completely spoiled rotten! Anyway, I hope you enjoy, because I certainly did! There are five segments and they range from fluff to angst!
(CW: Needles, hospitalization, more needles)
I.
It was a standard inoculation, but Whumpee’s friend sat next to them without them even having to ask. Friend knew whumpee would be too embarrassed to do so. They didn’t make fun of Whumpee for being childish and they didn’t try to tell them “It’s just a shot.”
They felt Whumpee stiffen as a nurse entered the room. Though the nurse was personable, Whumpee remained tacit, only nodding or shaking their head when the nurse asked them questions. The nurse didn’t take offense.
“Yeah,” they said with a resigned but amiable sigh. “No one likes these.”
The nurse hitched up Whumpee’s sleeve and swabbed a spot on their upper arm. Whumpee’s breath hitched and they looked at Friend, who was ready with a warm, reassuring smile.
“Can you hold that there?” The nurse asked, nodding at the sleeve. Whumpee took a deep breath and did as they were asked.
When the nurse brought the needle into view, Friend saw the blood drain from Whumpee’s face and for a horrible moment, Friend thought Whumpee was going to be ill.
“Are you okay?” Friend asked as they leaned closer in what they hoped was a comforting gesture. The paper under them crinkled as they did. Whumpee swallowed, but didn’t answer. Worse yet, Whumpee was shaking.
“Could we get a sec?” Friend asked.
“Of course,” the nurse nodded in understanding, and stepped back.
“I’m right here, Whumpee,” Friend said as they slipped their hand into Whumpee’s. “I know this sucks. Just keep a hold of my hand and it’ll be over quick. I promise.”
It wasn’t a lie, but it felt like an eternity to Friend; they couldn’t imagine how it felt to Whumpee. The nurse gave fair warning before approaching and before administering the injection. Whumpee just gave a feeble nod before closing their eyes and burying their head in Friend’s shoulder. Friend made no complaint when Whumpee squeezed their hand so hard it hurt.
The nurse told them to take their time before they left the room. Slowly, Whumpee settled and they sat upright.
“Sorry,” they whispered.
“Nothing to be sorry for,” Friend said.
Whumpee hung their head, regardless.
“Come on,” Friend said as they leaned their head toward Whumpee and smiled as winningly as they could. “I’ll get you a lollipop.”
Whumpee rested their forehead against Friend’s and laughed. It was stilted and breathy, but it sounded sweet to Friend.
II.
The table had been in the safe house since...well, nobody knew. But its sturdiness was never in question. Whumpee’s teammates put them on the table and gathered around; all of them knew what they were supposed to do. Medic was new to the team and they were especially thankful to have been assigned to such a cohesive unit.
“That’s gonna scar,” Whumpee groaned. They forced laughter from their lungs.
“Quit your bitching, you’ve had worse,” Friend told them as they placed a hand on one of Whumpee’s shoulders and smiled down at them. Whumpee let out another rough chuckle and looked up at their friend. Medic smiled to themself. They were grateful for the rapport Whumpee and Friend had.
Medic sheared away Whumpee’s shirt and began to clean the wound. Friend and Whumpee kept up their banter until Medic approached with a suture kit. They apologized for not having anything to give Whumpee for the pain. Whumpee went still and fear worked its way into their features as they inched backward on the tabletop. Medic began to offer some reassuring words, but they stopped when they saw the seriousness that stole across Friend’s face.
“Hey, hey, hey. I know you don’t like needles, bud,” Friend said. “But we’ve got to get this done.”
Whumpee’s breath escalated and they looked pleadingly from Friend to Medic, then back to Friend. They shook their head no.
“You said it yourself, Friend,” Whumpee said as they tried to smile. It looked more like they were baring their teeth. “I’ve had worse.”
Medic could see Whumpee struggling to stay in control of themself, but they didn’t seem to be able to. They begged and shook, but they didn’t take their eyes off the implements in Medic’s hands. Friend looked equally helpless as they and the rest of the team were forced to keep them still.
“Shh,” Friend said. “Look at me, look at me. Just breathe.”
Whumpee had no choice but to listen to Friend and endure.
It seemed unfathomable to them that such a small piece of metal should cause so much anxiety in Whumpee; it certainly didn’t align with the impression they gave. Medic did their best to work quickly and confidently, though each time they pierced Whumpee’s flesh with the curved needle, Whumpee would flinch and let out a small, choked sound. Each time, the team -and Friend in particular -would look deeply saddened as they hushed Whumpee.
III.
Friend was trying to make sure things didn’t go from bad to worse. They sat next to Whumpee on one of the day room’s couches, trying to calm their friend. Whumpee had been tacit and on edge all day, but now they were outright agitated and Friend didn’t know if they’d be able to help Whumpee the way Whumpee had helped them during their hospitalization.
“Do you want me to get someone for you?” Friend ventured.
Whumpee’s response was something like a snarl as they stood a little too quickly. That drew the staff’s attention.
Shit! Friend thought. They tried to assuage Whumpee, but their doctor came over. Friend eyed the orderlies who had also taken notice. Please just let them help you if you won’t let me.
The tension grew. The doctor offered Whumpee some pills, but that “calming” option seemed to have fallen on deaf ears. The anger in Whumpee’s voice sounded hollow, but the fear was almost tangible as it began to quaver. And then came the point of no return.
“Get away from me!”
Despite the fact one of the orderlies had admonished Friend to step away from Whumpee, they stayed put. Whumpee had confided their fear of needles to Friend and Friend knew that the potential of being forcibly sedated was riling Whumpee even more. Friend knew they had to do something to prevent the completion of some shitty self-fulfilling prophecy.
“They just want to help,” Friend reminded Whumpee quietly. They put a hand on Whumpee’s shoulder and
Pain exploded in Friend’s nose. It sent a shockwave through their skull, and blood spurted down over their lips and chin, and onto their white shirt. Their hands shot to their nose and they groaned. They felt arms leading them away from the impending fight and they allowed it. The only thing they were aware of beyond their pain was Whumpee’s growing panic.
Friend kept their head tilted back, but they kept their watering eyes and their dizzied focus on Whumpee. Friend couldn’t see the needle, but they knew the doctor must have been holding one. Whumpee backed up until the back of their legs bumped the couch. Whumpee ran forward. They were caught, then dragged backward and down.
Friend watched Whumpee buck and shout hysterically as the orderlies held them, and the doctor came closer with the sedative.
I’m sorry, Friend thought as Whumpee let out a hoarse, broken sound like a trapped animal.
Friend felt anger well within them when, after Whumpee’s struggle began to cease, they heard an orderly’s attempt at comfort.
“There, not so bad, huh?”
IV.
Friend’s shift ended and they made their way to Whumpee’s room. When they heard the commotion coming from that direction, they sped the rest of the way, but the shock of what they found halted them. Whumpee was bleeding from their hand, the evidence of which dappled the bed and floor. A streak of it also stood out on the wall. Whumpee stood, surrounded by three orderlies and a nurse, with their back flat against the wall. Friend followed Whumpee’s wide gaze to the hypodermic the nurse held in their hand as they and the orderlies advanced on them.
Mystery solved.
Whumpee had been scared to death of needles since they were kids.
”Whumpee?” Friend said. Whumpee looked at Friend, then immediately back to the people around them. Whumpee sank down and cowered. Friend felt a pang in their heart at the way Whumpee’s lower lip trembled and the way their breathing hitched. This had to stop. Now. Friend brushed past the orderlies and stood between them and Whumpee.
“Just back off a minute,” they asked their colleagues. They did their best to keep a protective growl out of their voice “Give them some space?”
They did as they were asked and Friend crouched so they were eye-level with Whumpee.
“Pulled out your IV, huh?”
Whumpee’s eyes flitted over the figures a short distance behind Friend before settling on them. They swallowed hard and nodded as they let their gaze drift down to the ground.
“I just...I- they -they-”
“Woah, woah, woah, it’s okay, Whumpee,” Friend said. Their heart went out to Whumpee. They hated to see their friend’s face so flushed with embarrassment and agitation. “Another nightmare? The needle?”
Whumpee gave another nod and pulled in a shaky breath.
“I don’t want that,” they said. “I can be calm. I’m calm. Please.”
Whumpee looked up at Friend with tired eyes. The fear remained, but Whumpee was lucid.
“Okay,” Friend said. They gave Whumpee a soft smile and extended a hand. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
After staring at their hand for a moment, Whumpee accepted it.
V.
Friend forced themself to look Whumpee in the eye when men on either side of Whumpee took them roughly by the arms. Whumpee didn’t struggle, didn’t flinch; they looked at Friend in a way that made their stomach twist in guilt.
“You know what they did to me,” Whumpee said. Their voice was barely above a whisper but a part of Friend wished they’d screamed at them.
“I didn’t know how else to help you,” Friend said as they dropped their gaze and hoped that on some level, Whumpee could understand. Friend didn’t dare hope for forgiveness. Because they did know. “I’m sorry.”
“We’ll take good care of them,” Whumper said as they entered the room.
Whumpee lunged forward, but the men holding them seemed prepared for the ferocity of the motion. Unfazed by Whumpee’s outburst, Whumper greeted them as though they were a long lost friend and Whumpee cursed and strained to get loose. It was more energy than Friend had seen them use in the past week.
“Don’t suppose you’re going to come with us willingly? Let us fix you?” Whumper asked as they looked appraisingly at Whumpee and produced a small black case.
“Go fuck yourself,” Whumpee spat.
Whumper shrugged and unzipped the case. They withdrew a loaded syringe and removed the cap before holding it up. Friend’s heart sank further when Whumpee’s eyes grew huge and their rage and defiance disappeared.
“What is that?” Whumpee asked. They tried to take a step backward, but was held in place.
“Something to make you a little more docile,” Whumper said as a grin bloomed on their face and they took another step forward.
Whumpee tried to pull back again, but to no avail.
“Oh, yeah. You’ve got a thing about needles, huh? Can’t say I blame you.”
Whumpee eyed the needle and began to slump in the grips of the men restraining them. Whumper stepped to within arm’s reach of Whumpee.
“Stop,” Whumpee breathed. “Just stop and I’ll...I’ll come with you.”
Whumper moved the syringe back and forth as though they were mulling over Whumpee’s words, but they clucked their tongue and shook their head.
“You have no idea how much your little stunt cost us. So you are coming back, but you’re going to be doped out of your mind. I’m not taking any chances.”
Whumpee began to panic and Friend would have given anything to comfort them. They could only watch as Whumpee broke down and begged and weakly tried to squirm away. Fear and whatever ailment had been dogging them took their toll. Whumper’s men pinned Whumpee to the ground with ease
“Nononononono,” Whumpee chanted as they fought. “Please!”
Whumpee cried out when Whumper stuck the needle into them.
“I’m sorry, Whumpee,” Friend said as Whumpee’s eyes glazed over and their body went still. “I’m so sorry.”
#replies#asks#needles#fear of needles#friendship#betrayal#hospitalization#manhandling#angst#I had so much fun with this#also I just got a shot for the first time in like a hundred years and...yeah#sedation#drugged#begging#fear#mental institutions#released into the wild
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Battle Tendency Liveblog: JJBA Ch. 65-66
This is the start of the “Ultimate Warriors from Ancient Times” arc, but I want to focus on these two chapters because they feature Mark. I’ve got a lot to say about Mark under the cut, but the short version is that he’s a lousy Nazi and he deserves everything that happens to him.
A large chunk of Chapter 65 is just Caesar hanging out in Joseph and Speedwagon’s hotel room. They try to play cards, but they’re both cheats. This wouldn’t bother me at all until Speedwagon points out that he’s been here for eight hours, and never bothered to explain why. You’d think Joseph would have demanded an answer a long time ago, since he’s not known for patience.
As it turns out, Caesar’s been waiting for Mark, a buddy of his in the German Army. Stroheim was in the German Army too, and he told Joseph that the Nazis had discovered three other Pillar Men in Rome. That’s why he and Speedwagon came here, after all. Well, Caesar’s an Italian, and Italy and Germany are allies, so Caesar managed to persuade the Germans (through Mark) to let him take a look at the Pillar Men. So in this chapter, Mark rolls up in a car and drives them over to the site.
But we already know what happened at the site in Chapter 64. The Pillar Men have already reawakened, and all the Nazi soldiers stationed there have been slaughtered. When Mark leads our heroes into the catacombs, they find the remains of the Germans, while Mark bumps into the Pillar Men themselves. (Note: the above image is not to scale).
The thing is, bumping into the Pillar Men is hazardous to your health. We saw that vampire grab Santana and large chunks of his body were completely absorbed. The same thing happens to Mark, only faster, because Wamuu doesn’t even slow down as he walks past him. He just walks right through Mark and half of his body is gone.
So when I first watched the JoJo anime, it was right after I watched the Hellsing Ultimate anime, and I got a kick out of seeing two completely different anime takes on vampire lore. Let’s face it, the Pillar Men are presented as something beyond mere vampires, but they’re basically just super-vampires, not so different from Alucard in Hellsing. And both make use of the Nazis, except in Hellsing, the Nazis are the villains, while in Battle Tendency, they’re kinda sorta allies. Stroheim is clearly a bad guy, because he killed his prisoners and tormented Speedwagon, but Mark is presented as a completely sympathetic person. He’s got a sweetheart back home, Caesar’s the one who introduced them, and he’s planning to get married the next time he goes back to Germany. And for his very brief appearance in JJBA, he’s completely friendly and helpful to the heroes. We’re supposed to feel very sorry for him when he gets killed here.
Part 2 is my favorite, but I think this stands out as it’s biggest flaw. I get the idea. Hellsing was dealing with a lot of dark themes, and the protagonists were horrifying in their own right. So Kouta Hirano used the Nazis as villains to humanize his vampire characters. By contrast, Hirohiko Araki seems to be using the Nazis to dehumanize the Pillar Men. They’re so evil that even the Nazis look halfway decent by comparison. At least the Nazis are human, with human loves and fears and honor. The Pillar Men kill Mark without even noticing him, and Speedwagon likens this to a human stepping on an ant. I get what Araki is trying to do here, but it rings hollow. Fuck Mark, and fuck his Nazi fiance. The first time we see him, we get a close up of his Iron Cross medal, with the damn swastika in the middle of it. We’re supposed to buy into the idea that he’s “one of the good Germans”, and it’s 1938, so World War II hasn’t officially started yet, so somehow Mark is supposed to be cool. But no, I don’t buy it.
Let me go off on a little sidebar and try to explain how we got here. Battle Tendency was published in 1988. Back then, Hitler had been dead for decades, and Germany had been partitioned into two countries, East and West Germany. The Nazis seemed to have been consigned to the dustbin of history, and as time passed, pop culture grew more comfortable using the Nazis as historical villains in stories like this one. There was a sense that yeah, the Nazis were really bad, but they were gone now, and they would never come back. I think there was a similar mentality surrounding the Soviet Union after the U.S.S.R. dissolved. By the 2000′s there were all sorts of internet memes about Nazi stuff and Soviet stuff and it was rationalized as harmless envelope-pushing.
The problem is, it doesn’t seem so harmless in 2021, when Russia is a autocracy that meddles in U.S. elections, emboldening white nationalists in the process. The “alt-right” fanatics who marched in Charlottesville in 2017? The rioters who stormed the Capitol building this past January? Those assholes probably wouldn’t call themselves Nazis, but neither did the Nazis. They called themselves “National Socialists”, because they were trying to make their ugly policies sound more legitimate. The same holds true for “alt-right”, “economic nationalist”, “Qanon”, “truther”, and so on. They’re just new labels for the same old horseshit.
I don’t want to judge Battle Tendency too harshly, because it’s the product of a different time, an era when people could at least pretend that Nazism was one of the few problems that we didn’t have to worry about any more. The same mentality can be found in Hellsing. The Nazis in Hellsing are definitely villains, but the conceit is that they’re all immortal vampires or werewolves, because that’s the only way the Nazi menace could possibly exist in 1999. Otherwise, they’d all be dead of old age. Battle Tendency is set in 1938, so it takes the liberty of presenting sympathetic Nazis, because we already know they’ll be defeated in the end, right? We might as well see what makes them tick.
Araki may have thought that using Nazis in a story set in the 1930s would be no different than using Napoleonic French soldiers in a story set in the 1800s. And in the long run, that might be true, but I don’t think we’re there yet. In the here and now, it’s aged rather poorly.
Of course, just because Caesar and Joseph feel bad for Mark doesn’t mean I have to. And Araki may have been more self-aware than I’m giving him credit for. Nazi Germany wanted to set itself up as the Master Race, and in this fictional world, the Pillar Men have come to do the same thing, only they’re much, much further ahead of the game. I think part of the point of Stroheim and Mark was to contrast the Nazis’ supreamcist attitudes with Kars’ ambitions. For all of Stroheim’s boasting, he’s helpless against Kars’ might. But at the same time, for all of Kars’ power and brilliance, he’s ultimately chasing the same pipe dream as Hilter and his followers.
Let’s get back on track. While the good guys react in horror at what happened to Mark, the Pillar Men just stand around nearby and discuss their situation. They completely ignore our heroes, just like they ignored Mark. Kars wants to locate the Red Stone of Aja, because it’s the secret ingredient to the mask he designed that will make them immune to sunlight. Esidisi doesn’t understand how the stone helps their plan, but he’s totally on board. But as they head out, Wamuu suddenly attacks Kars, because Kars stepped in his shadow, and apparently Wamuu just lashes out at anyone who does this, friend or foe.
Wamuu is deeply sorry for this, and begs to be punished, but Kars apologizes instead, because he knows about Wamuu’s whole shadow thing and he feels that he’s the one who made the mistake here. I really love this exchange, because it defines the Pillar Men so well. As indifferent as they are to human lives, they respect one another a great deal. Kars is the leader, but he still treats the other two guys like close associates. He needs Wamuu’s sharp senses and keen warrior instincts. Meanwhile, Wamuu and Eisidisi practically worship Kars like a god. They’ve literally followed him around the world and across thousands of years in pursuit of his vision.
So yeah, if the goal here was to use Mark’s suffering to make me hate the Pillar Men, it doesn’t work. The Pillar Men are evil, sure, but they’re pretty cool bad guys. On the other hand, Mark looks ridiculous here, with Caesar holding and talking to half of his body. This looks like something out of a Tex Avery cartoon.
I mean, let’s set aside the whole Nazi thing for a moment. Why should I feel sorry for Mark? Because he’s in pain? He got cut in half! He should have died instantly! Because he was going to get married? We only met this guy one chapter ago! Because he’s Caesar’s friend? Well Caesar’s kind of a jerk too.
Anyway, Mark begs Caesar to kill him and end his suffering, so Caesar uses the Ripple to stop his heart. Or the half of it that’s still there, I guess.
Okay, so the whole point of Mark’s death is to really get the good guys fired up to battle the Pillar Men, right? Okay, Caesar tries to take them on, and he opens with the Bubble Launcher, the same move he talked about earlier. It didn’t beat Joseph, but Caesar’s Hamon power does hurt Wamuu’s skin, which is more than Joseph managed to do against Santana.
The Bubble Launcher is supposed to surround the opponent with dozens of soap bubbles charged with Hamon energy. Wamuu can’t escape without touching them and getting hurt. But Wamuu just sprouts all these long braids from his head and clothes, and swings them around with superhuman precision to know the bubbles away without hurting himself.
As it turns out, these Pillar Men are familiar with Hamon. Santana was surprised to encounter Joseph Joestar’s powers, but Wamuu and the others have fought Ripple users in the past. And Wamuu’s more intrigued than worried...
Oh, as one final aside, on the car ride to the catacombs, Speedwagon asked Caesar if he tried to use the Ripple to destroy the Pillar Men before they woke up, and Caesar explains that it didn’t work while they were in their dormant state. Remember, at the very start of this story, Speedwagon called Straizo because he wanted someone to use the Ripple to destroy Santana before he could wake up. Now we see that even if Straizo had agreed to his request, it wouldn’t have done any good. Sunlight doesn’t seem to kill the Pillar Men so much as it makes them turn to stone, and the Ripple only hurts them while they’re flesh and blood. So the only way to kill them seems to be by using Hamon in a direct confrontation, and that’s a tall order...
#jojo's bizarre adventure#battle tendency#joseph joestar#caesar zeppeli#robert e o speedwagon#mark#wamuu#kars#esidisi#get wrecked mark
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HARRY OSBORN & PETER PARKER, @claimedlight.
location: downtown.
BEING CHILDHOOD FRIENDS MEANT TWO THINGS: peter parker is the only person with the ability to get harry osborn to ditch his routine for the day, and harry osborn has an absolute weak spot where peter parker is concerned. which explains why he’s here walking with him when it’s cold and gloomy out. but regardless of the weather, he’s willing to drop all responsibilities for the day in a heartbeat, greedy to spend as much time with his best friend as possible. he’s missed him, especially now with everything that’s been happening-- no. he can’t think of that now. he’s not going to let this ruin his day out with peter.
HARRY LOOKS OVER AT PETER, ENTIRELY FONDLY, as he nudges him gently, “ so run by today’s plan with me again ? we’re gonna get lunch, get our last minute halloween costumes, and then what ? ”
#claimedlight#ii. not completely helpless / beg.#claimedlight. / peter parker.#thread. harry osborn & peter parker. / 001.#ii. how spectacular a move / int.#pronouns: he/him.
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I'm sleep deprived stressed & bored does anyone wanna hear me rant about my theory that Spade Modern Objects has anxiety and/or depression??
No?
[Side note: I have GAD & PSTD so this is based on personal experience]
1: He tends to be irritable and project his insecurities onto other people. (YES, anxiety can manifest as anger; not every anxious person is Suitcase II.) Ex. He calls Bucket useless for her lack of arms, but it's revealed later in the episode that he actually thinks of HIMSELF as useless and was projecting onto her to make himself seem better in comparison.
2: He seems to have recurring nightmares (usually with a theme of helplessness and uselessness), and recurring nightmares are caused by anxiety.
(No visuals, but in One Epic Dream he gets chased by a monster with the same voice as the disembodied voice that tells him he's a failure)
3: When he isn't able to find a job immediately, he panics and begs Map to help him find one despite the fact that Map can't do anything about it, and given how breathless he sounds before Map snaps him out of it he was REALLY worked up.
4: He seems to have zero regard for his own safety, as he willing offers to work for Professor Rubber and let her shoot him with the Molecule Manipulator Device, despite the situation being clearly dangerous.
Also, the whole Forest skit from Hip Hop Diggity Doo...yeesh.
5: The M.M.D malfunctioning had to have been caused by something, and evil Spade's voice & eyes are very similar to Bucket's and the disembodied voice in his nightmare. Basically the M.M.D went "this bitch was more mentally ill than we thought lol" and backfired /hj
6: In fictional scenarios, he tends to ruminate on the worst possibilities. As seen in My Name Is Spade, both of the stories he tells end badly; the first with Orange stealing his music and becoming more popular than him, and the second with Map falling apart and dying in front of him.
Bonuses: In Doctor's Appointment, he seems genuinely upset over hearing that he's going to...live. Yeah
Throughout Hip Hop Diggity Doo, he talks a lot about death and digging graves. Ex. In The Forest, he tells Bucket he wants to pick up other trades before he eventually dies, in a complete calm voice.
In Game Over he cracks a joke about having PTSD, which, like...how much of a joke is it given everything that happened in Digging Up Trouble 👀
#modern objects#mo#mo spade#fan theory#character analysis#I'm aware that Modern Objects was canceled but LET ME DREAM#gif
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