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bluerosefox · 10 months

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Friendships Between Realms (YJ and Danny Shenanigans Being Peek Friendship)

So the 90s YJ group got into a lot of shenanigans tbh. Like a lot and mostly without their mentors knowledge. And whenever I think of YJ I think of the Core 4 (mainly cause Tim is my fav, and the Core 4 is just so amazing together) anyways I honestly wouldn't put it past them if they had accidentally summoned or were being sacrificed by some cult, or meet Danny who accidentally fell into their world via a random portal in someway. (In this DC and Phantom universes are not on the same world, fyi)

Like Danny, still new to being a hero but getting the hang of it, meets them, learns some things from them, and actually gets along with them to the point that when he has to leave Robin gives him a communication device to keep in touch (and Robin Tim would, despite being the second most paranoid of the Bats this boy lies to Batman to his face and had hidden an entire Batmoblie cost in the Batarang budget and keeps it with YJ) and Danny does.

It's nice to have hero friends who understand the struggle of balancing hero and normal lives. Don't get him wrong Danny loves Tucker, Sam and Jazz but sometimes they just don't... fully get it. The danger, the stress, the anxiety, the relief when things are solved or saved, etc etc that comes with being a hero or at least try to be one. They don't understand the urge he gets at like 3 am to go patrol Amity Park just to make sure everything is safe. YJ on the other hand does.

He talks to them about his problems and they help out and Danny in turn helps them out too when he can. Like they needed help with Secret, call up Danny see if he knows what kind of ghost she is (he turned to Clockwork and Frostbite in that case) and Danny in turn talked to them about Dan (they told him about them having to face their own future evil self to at one point). Danny talks to Conner when Dani came into the picture, he wants to make sure he doesn't screw up like Superman did towards his clone's feelings and self worth. Etc etc.

Point is, despite being dimensions and Realms apart, YJ and Phantom are friends and have been in touch. He's friends with all the YJ at the time and keeps in touch with them all but is very close with the Core 4. (Danny was the one that reassured Tim when Bruce was thought to be dead. Couldn't find his soul or ghost in the Realms and Clockwork was being 1000% more crypticd about Batman when Danny had asked if he was lost in time, Danny (or CW) couldn't do much to help due to certain rules but Danny could tell Tim "He isn't dead. Just lost. You're not insane Rob I promise."

So imagine a few years later, DCverse is under heavy near world ending supernatural danger and it gets to the point someone in JLD suggests they may have to summon the Ghost King in order to stop it (maybe its an old ancient ghost/spirit someone foolishly unleased). Of course there are some that strongly advise not to, that summoning him would spell the end of everything, but someone else points out they're already close to that edge they already got no other choice.

So they try and it fails and everyone is confused.

Bart, because of course it's gonna be Bart, returns from helping evacuations takes one look at the summoning circle and says.

"Why are you using those outdated sigals and symbols? That'd like trying to call an out of service number." Bart says before he speed texts Tim, Conner, and Cassie to come over.

Tim, RR, takes one look at the circle and asks who they were trying to summon. When told they were trying to get the Ghost King, him and the Core 4 look at each other before Tim pulls out his communicator and texts Danny.

It takes less than a few minutes before RR tells Impulse that Danny was cool with the summoning and to bring him in. Impulse nods and quickly runs around and changes the old summoning circle around with new symbols and sigals. Then RR turns to most of the JLD members and says sternly.

"You all better not memorize this, this is Phantom's personal summoning line and he only wants friends to know it. He gave us permission."

And with Superboy (Conner) and Wonder Girl agreeing with nods.

Before any of the JL or the JLD could really ask or even interrogate what that meant Impulse was done with the preparation. the Summoning circle was changed around with constellations and other signs of stars, there was a bag of fresh burgers and three milkshakes in the middle of it, and under it was a stylized symbol of a D and a P.

Its Impulse who starts the... chant and raises his hands up. (its actually the dumbest song anyone can think of. Danny wanted it to be funny and the Core 4 totally encouraged it) the candles shift from red to green fire, the star symbols start glowing before flying around on the floor in a circle like shooting stars, the area starts feeling like a cold winter wind beginning to blow, and the stylized symbol is glowing green before...

Danny pops up in his Ghost King form (flaming crown, galaxy cape, looking more ghostly than human but still a teen), finishing up the song and laughing. When he spots his friends he's grinning and waving hello to them, all of them greeting him back.

The JL are confused as heck but noticed how shell-shocked most if not all the members of JLD as their staring at what has to be the Ghost King...

Basically. I want Danny to be one of the people/things the 90s YJ did/meet during their insane shenanigans that most of their mentors most likely didn't know about. They all kept in touch and if they knew, and were later invited to the coronation, of Danny becoming the new Ghost King and later needs to bring out the big guns against a supernatural entity and stuns everyone else that they have a friend in a very high place well... yeah.

#danny phantom dc #ghost king danny #danny fenton #danny phantom #blue rambles #writing ideas #dp x dc #dcxdp #conner kent #super boy #cassie sandsmark #wonder girl #bart allen #impulse #tim drake #red robin #core 4 #they are all friends #despite being worlds and realms away #Danny totally invited them to his coronation #he likes to visit them sometimes but due to his own duties doesn't get to all to much #they do text and chat though #Danny totally brought Dani to have a small chat with Conner though #Just so she knows she's not alone with being a clone and such #Danny totally introduced Cassie to Pandora too #who taught her some lost amazonian moves that even impressed WW during their next spar #Is Bart a little intimidated by CW. Yes.#CW likes panicking Bart but finds the time traveling future speedster the least annoying out of all of them tbh #Tim and Danny have bonded over their future evil self trauma #and trying to deal with evil fruitloops that are trying to make them their 'heirs'

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coldhearthotlove · 10 months

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For Disability PRIDE Month - It’s EXTREMELY important to remember that COVID still exists.

It never went away, and it’s as dangerous as ever.

Here are some facts everyone should be aware of:

1) COVID has killed millions around the world (directly and indirectly - such as causing heart problems, for example, and then causing a lethal heart attack months later), and debilitated tens of millions, if not more, around the world in only a few years.

2) COVID can and often does cause long term effects which can last for months, years, or even a lifetime. These long term effects commonly include: fatigue, shortness of breath, loss of taste and smell, etc. - but there are countless other long term effects. Ongoing health issues that come from an infection is called “Long COVID” - and can range in severity.

3) Most people with Long COVID have reported being dismissed, and even gaslit or made fun of by family, and even medical staff. They have been told “it’s all in their head” or “not that serious”.

4) No age, gender, race, nationality, etc. is immune to COVID. ANYONE can get it. There are some groups of people, however, that are more likely than others to have more severe outcomes from an infection.

5) Herd immunity cannot be achieved with COVID, because the virus mutates every time it infects a group a people. This new mutation can dodge any immunity you have from a previous infection, and infect you again. Millions of people around the world have already had COVID multiple times - often different mutations/variants of the virus. The less often you and the people around you get COVID, the better.

6) While vaccines and boosters can prevent more severe illnesses and even death - you can still get COVID and Long COVID, even if you’ve been vaccinated. Vaccine efficacy only lasts a few months, and the vast majority of Americans are not up to date with their boosters.

7) COVID can wreck your organs and immune system, and make you more susceptible to other diseases and conditions - such as Pneumonia.

8) Since COVID is a relatively new virus, there’s still a lot not known about it; but the limited knowledge we do have on it is terrifying.

9) “Mainstream Media” doesn’t talk about COVID anymore, because society wants to pretend it doesn’t exist anymore. Lockdowns, masking, taking precautions, etc. was costing too much money and inconveniencing too many people - so the average person would rather just pretend it doesn’t exist, even though it does. Just because everyone around you thinks “COVID is over”, doesn’t mean it is. Don’t be fooled.

10) An experiment was done on lab mice: reinfecting them with COVID. By the 10th infection - all the mice were dead…

10 infections sounds like a lot, but if you’re 20 and you get 1 infection every year on average - you’re not likely to live past 30…

If you do, you’re almost guaranteed to have some from of Long COVID.

Please take COVID seriously, for yourself, and everyone around you…

#nat speaks #coronavirus #COVID19 #disability #disability pride month

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apollos-olives · 5 months

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hello! If this question is too personal, please feel free to ignore. I’m writing an informative essay on the Palestinian experience under occupation (college English final) and I just wanted to ask this.

As children in Palestine (or outside of Palestine, but born to Palestinian parents), are you raised with the knowledge of the hatred and disdain of the Israelis towards the Palestinians or would you say that Palestinian parents “shelter” (for lack of a better word that I can think of) or attempt to “shelter” their children from the pain of the Israeli’s hatred? I would assume that protecting the emotions and minds of the children would be somewhat impossible to do, but I would appreciate if you could provide some insight into this and also how children deal with the mental toll of being under occupation or knowing that their people are not free. My apologies if this is question is insensitive, please feel free to ignore and delete this if you feel uncomfortable. Thank you!

we, as palestinians, are raised with the complete knowledge that zionists hate us. there is no "hiding" that fact. when you live under an occupation, you know it. you feel the effects of it. you see it every day. one of the very first things i've been raised to learn is that i am a person who majority of the world hates. and you genuinely cannot hide that. even though we were, and are, children, we have to face the truth immediately. we are an oppressed people. our parents do not hide this from us. it would be cruel if they did. we deserve to know that there is a better life for us than this, and we deserve to know what is happening against us. you cannot hide the effects of oppression and occupation. we will learn about it whether someone tells us or not.

because of this, palestinians raise their children to be extremely educated. palestinians are some of the most highly educated people in the world. we become educated when we're young and continue to become more and more educated as we grow because that is what we believe will set us free. the newer generations must have knowledge to fight back. the children are the future, as we all know. the sooner we are educated, the sooner we can start fighting back against oppression. that is why we urge other people to become educated, so they can help us fight against oppression as well. oppression cannot be hidden from us. we must learn to notice it wherever we go, in order to end it. that is why palestinians do not hide away their children. of course, we love our children and we try to ease the pain for them as much as possible, but the pain is our real life. our suffering is part of our fight, our identity. and we are fighting for a day where our suffering will never have to be permanent part of our identity again. we want to protect our children, but we cannot protect them against a world that wants them dead. we cannot do it alone, so we need people to step up and stand with us, in order to raise our children without them having to know the suffering we've endured.

being a child living under the occupation is difficult. you make friends one year, you lose them the next year. you finally manage to get out of palestine, and suddenly you're never allowed to go back in. you see posters on the wall of every city, full of faces of the people who were martyred by the hands of the oppressors and you pray to god that your face isn't going to be on there next. you are constantly surrounded by death and suffering. palestine is beautiful. our culture is beautiful. we constantly try to appreciate our beauty. but we cannot just do that without also facing the reality. we are an oppressed people. we know this. we see this. we feel this.

being a child living in the diaspora is also difficult. seeing how everyone around you can go on with their day, all smiles and laughs, not knowing your family in palestine were just killed the other day. seeing the media twist the narrative and make up lies about you and your people. being wary of everyone around you because you're not sure if they're a zionist or not so you have to hide your identity and who you are. watching as your people are massacred on tv while you're sitting there in your living room from a continent away, shaking with fear because "what if that was me?"

we know zionists hate us. this is the first thing we learn. we cannot hide our children from this truth, because that would only harm them more than it would protect them.

#palestine #free palestine

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hitlikehammers · 2 months

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bring him home

rating: t ♥️ cw: Eddie in the Upside Down,; Steve on what he thinks is a retrieval mission for his body (it's not); Eddie Munson Lives; Kas!Eddie (ish) ♥️ tags: established relationship, secret pre-S4 relationship, post-S4, presumed dead (Eddie), mourning and heartbreak (Steve), happy ending (because Eddie is alive, ofc), soul-deep love

for @steddielovemonth day twenty-four: Love is the only thing we can take with us (@thefreakandthehair)

oh hey look, another day I didn't intend to write at all ♥️ but then @pearynice was intrigued by a stray half-baked idea and I struggle to not at least try to provide content in such instances ♥️

He’s only thought it since, since, but he’s actually kind of grateful no one knew. That no one could even have guessed. They’re on eggshells around him enough as it is, thinking it’s the loss, finally, that he couldn’t walk them back from, couldn’t recover them allfrom safe if not wholly sound. They think he’s dealing with survivor’s guilt or just the general blow of a failure so immense, maybe long overdue: and that’s probably part of it.

But only because it’s part of the bigger thing. The real loss.

They would have been together nearly ten fucking months, y’know; the better part of a whole goddamn year since that day at the mall, eyes catching and something just…clicking. Like the barest whisper breathing this could be something into the universe for them to catch if they wanted, and for all that’s still good in the world they both wanted, beyond any kind of logic they both fucking reached.

And Steve knows he’s worrying everyone, knows Joyce cooks for him because she’s sacred for him, knows Claudia bakes for the very same reason; he knows Robin’s gone back to biting her nails over him, and he hates that, he hates it but, like: Steve feels like he left his soul in that hellscape with the man he’d wrapped up in it; knows he left his heart there, because he gave it to that same man ages ago and never ever considered taking it back—and he’s kind of just a, a shell, now, and it’s good that they all think Steve’s just fucked up over the lost, over-inflated savior complex, Rob had muttered more than once and sure, fine—let them think that’s all it is.

It means he can plan without interference.

It means he can drive to the last oozing rift in the world with axes he found in the garage, a crowbar he grabbed at The War Zone—which he knows because he found a receipt, not because he can remember going, driving, paying; he fucking can’t—a fucking tire lift that he things is better suited to trucks than his Beemer but that’s why he needs it: he need to rip open the earth beneath his feet because maybe his heart died down there with the boy he loves in ways he didn’t know he could, not until he found those reserves of feeling inside him well up for the fact of him and maybe it’s too later for his heart, and maybe his soul’s locked in as a funeral shroud but godadmn it all—

Steve needs to bring Eddie’s body home.

Dropping through he fissure in the ground is second nature, like something calling him through the break and that feel right, because the Upside Down for what it is alone is somewhere Steve never wants to be, never wants to touch: but what it holds now what it stole from him and claimed and kept: Steve wants that back beside him, it doesn’t matter how. Cold, torn, broken, gone—Steve’s already those things himself. Now he’s just a raw nerve, but if that nerve could go numb, could freeze for so much pain, so much abuse and hurt. He feels more for the knowledge of how much things should destroy him; he thinks his body is more of an echo chamber, a void that moves but isn’t…there anymore.

Is here, because he left the best of him, the whole of him here, and he—it creaks in his knees when he hits the ground on the other side, shoots up his spine from the bones of him on contact; it should hurt, it should hurt but he can’t feel so much, and he needs to get his bearings, needs to orient, needs to figure where he is and the quickest way to Forest Hills, to where Eddie—

He can’t feel shit when he’s got a purpose, here: the first he’s had in weeks.

He moves to stand, gets to his feet at—

It’s unexpected, how much he feels the impact that knocks him back down, the weight that pushes him to the ground again and covers him, snarls at him, breathes hot and violent against his jaw, against his neck, and Steve—

Steve’ll die here, that’s clear from the hiss above him, the way he’s pinned like prey, like a meal, and the only thought he really has, in all honesty, is he’ll die here.

But he already died here, so it just feels kinda anticlimactic.

The panting against him keeps up, but it…it doesn’t go anywhere, it doesn’t become other, or more—there’s no teeth, no clawing or biting or ripping him apart, draining him dry. He doesn’t think he was afraid for any of it, exactly; his heart’s pounding but it feels distant, other and something far from him, disconnected: not a part of his shell-self, so he thinks that’s just ingrained, just an automatic response to a demo-something, probably, sizing up its meal but like, it’s not doing anything and Steve, Steve doesn’t…he’s not invested, exactly, he doesn’t even think he cares, but—

He squints his eyes open the barest crack where he’d instinctively squeezed them shut and he looks, expects the toothy petals, or even a veiny body; he looks and—

“Eddie?”

Oh, good. Heart, soul: may as well add losing his fucking mind to this place, too, third time’s a goddamn charm.

Because it’s not Eddie, it can’t be…it can’t be Eddie, and—

Not-Eddie leans into him, presses onto him full-bodied, hips to chest, thighs spread to hold him down like he’s going anywhere because, because…

Steve feels that. He feels the pressure, he feels pain where this body drags against scrapes in Steve’s skin, he feels his heart pounding, Jesus fucking Christ, that fucking hurts, but he looks at the face that’s looming over him, tipped to the side like it’s asking a question, like it’s considering Steve below, and it: the bones are sharper, the skin more pale, more drawn up tight and pulled—the eyes are red, bright like when the lighting cuts the sky, here, but everything else…

“Eddie, oh god,” Steve doesn’t want to question it, Steve doesn’t want to keep his mind if the alternative is moments with some version of Eddie whose breath he can feel again, it’s, he’s;

“Eds,” he chokes, and Eddie’s got him wholly pinned down, he can’t reach for Eddie’s face to cup it, to cradle it, so he lets his breath catch, his lungs hitch, lets the tears burn on their way from his eyes in streams as he twitches his fingers, stretches the tips to brush Eddie’s palm where he holds Steve down and—

Eddie stills, and his eyes narrow, and…

And if Steve has to die here, again: let it be at Eddie’s hands. Let it be maybe for Eddie’s…benefit, he’s wellbeing, however he survives here. Let it be for Eddie.

Always for Eddie.

But then Eddie: Eddie doesn’t let him up, still lean into Steve from the middle, but—he buries his head at Steve’s neck, and breathes in so deep, Steve gets to close his eyes and soak in the feeling of his chest rising into Steve’s own: strong.

Real.

“Known,” Eddie murmurs, shakes his head like he’s trying to shoo a fly, but then a shiver trembles through the whole of him, Steve can trace its trajectory where Eddie’s held against him, and then Eddie growls—it’s not a wholly new sound but it’s deeper, more animal in it than Steve’s ever heard and then he bites out through bared teeth: “Known.”

Then he draws back from Steve’s neck, studies him shrewdly, a little hesitant, like he’s unsure of whatever’s happening to him, in him: then he nods, chews at his lower lip in a painfully familiar move before his hands leave Steve’s wrists and he’s—

“Known.”

He’s tracing Steve’s cheekbones, the line of his jaw; he’s running his nose against the slope of Steve’s, he’s…it’s like he’s tracing him, and he does it so gentle, he almost like he anticipates it, he’s—

“Known,” and Eddie’s fucking…it’s not a growl this time but somehow whatever it is, is deeper, stronger, and he mouths at Steve’s neck again but instead of breathing him in, he’s sucking at the lines of his arteries down the sides, up and down, and then he follows the blood to the sounds, groans at a pitch Steve’s never heard before but it’s still, it’s sill Eddie, and—

“Hurt?” Eddie mouths at his chest through the layers of his clothes, sounds mournful, stills as he considers something, intent with it before his head pops up, those red eyes so wide and aching as his hands tap against Steve’s arms, frantic and—

Oh.

Oh; they’re tapping out Steve’s heartbeats to every racing clench-give echoing through his ribs and Eddie moans, almost wails, then—

“Hurt,” and he looks frantic, his eyes wild, and his mouth dropped open, bereft and seeking and oh, oh: Eddie thinks his heart’s pounding because he’s hurt, because he’s in pain and kinda, a little bit but not like that and—

“No,” Steve’s quick to try and soothe, even if his voice is barely a rasp; “no, no,” and his wrists are free to he reaches, covers Eddie’s hands and links their fingers together, feels something in him reanimate, come straight back into being just for that touch, and that it’s warm:

“Happy,” Steve gasps, and squeezes Eddie’s hands with force, with feeling; “happy, to see you,” and he closes his eyes in something like relief when Eddie’s mouth stills against his chest again; sighs when Eddie nuzzles there, like he always did, like he belongs because he always belongs.

“So fucking happy,” Steve breathes, and he feels weightless; wonders if he died. If he hit the ground and snapped his neck. If the impact was a monster and not the love of his life, somehow saved from ruin just to save Steve back in kind.

“Mine,” Eddie whispers, a little bit of a hiss for the feeling in it, the intensity sewn in as he mouths around the beat of Steve’s blood: that’s what he means. That’s his, that and everything it powers, everything it lends life.

His.

He pulls back, and Steve bites back a whimper for the loss before Eddie’s eyes find his and he looks…he looks lost, then, grasping, in need as he almost begs, like the answer is the end of all things:

“Mine?”

He lifts one of their joined hands—he doesn’t disentangle them, and fuck if Steve’s ever letting go—but he lifts them to Steve’s chest and holds there, presses down and looks pointedly at the way his palm covers Steve’s heart, looks up in askance, up and down, there and back over and again, more desperate every time and Steve tightens his fingers around Eddie’s and nods, just nods because his voice is gone, his throat’s too tight, he’s—

But Eddie sees it. Eddie understands because Eddie…

Eddie always understands what Steve can’t say.

“Mine,” he exhales like it’s the answer to the universe, like it’s proof of god and the devil, like it’s more than air to breathe and Steve’s…

Steve doesn’t even know what he is. Except: he’s alive.

He died before he left here last time, and now somehow he’s alive. “Known, s’known,” Eddie mutters, shakes his head slow and pins his gaze on different parts go Steve’s body, touches and looks up to Steve like it serves as confirmation just to meet his gaze, to watch him blink; “know, know,” and Eddie bends again, mouths at his chest and inhales sharp as he rips out, almost feral: “mine,” and then something in him gives, and he falls to Steve’s chest and Steve’s heart skips, the terror in him tangible, but he throws out his hands, lets Eddie’s grasp go to hold Eddie up and Eddie panting, gasping, something has to be wrong—

“St,” Eddie’s voice is sandpaper rough, but…but full somehow and Steve can’t name what it is, save that it makes him feel warm, from the inside, in a way he’d thought was gone forever. It prickles at his eyes and he doesn’t fight the tears:

“Ste,” Eddie coughs a little, and then he looks up, brow furrowed and muscles tight as he locks his eyes on Steve’s and grits out:

“Steve?”

And those eyes: those eyes meet Steve’s now—color in them, that depthless nightshade, drenched in that deep warm chocolate shade: Steve’s breath catches. His heartbeat skips again, but wholly different, and it looks, it feels like a weight’s been lifted; a spell’s been broken. And somehow, somehow even before anything shifted, somehow Eddie, his Eddie, he—

Whatever’s happened, whatever’s been done to him: somehow, deeper than any of it, he kept the love.

“Steve.”

Eddie’s voice shakes and he drops his weight again but this time when he presses against Steve it’s to wrap him close, to hold him a little clumsy, a whole lot desperate, and it…it feels like maybe Steve’s soul where it’s wrapped around Eddie? Like maybe he gets a little bit of it back; like maybe he can inhale and it could mean something again.

Eddie only draws back to tuck his head under Steve’s chin, to dip lower and put his lips to the center of Steve’s chest, to breathe there, like life into the heart of him again and fuck, but he feels it.

He kinda doesn’t need to know anything more, doesn’t need to have any more answers to know whatever this is, whatever Eddie needs: they’ll figure it out. Eddie’s lips are on his chest. His heart’s a mallet against Eddie’s mouth, beats up into the warm rush of his breath: there. Real.

Steve feels it.

also on ao3 🖤

tag list (comment to be added): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch @perseus-notjackson

♥️

divider credit here

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #hurt/comfort #established relationship #kas!eddie #established steddie #pre-S4 relationship #presumed dead #(but obviously NOT)#happy ending #steve mounts a one-man rescue/retrieval mission because he's heartbroken #eddie recognizes the love of his life because in light of everything he HELD ONTO THAT LOVE #steddielovemonth #love is the only thing we can take with us #stranger things

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marvelmymarvel · 1 year

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Revivals and Regrets

Madara Uchiha x Senju!Reader

Synopsis: With all of the Hokage's resurrected to help fight against the evils of Madara and Obito Uchiha, the oldest Senju has a brilliant idea to deal with Madara - and it just so happens to be reviving you... Much to Tobirama's disapproval.

A/n: I have not seen the Fourth Ninja War arc so this is (most likely) NOT accurate. But enjoy it anyway ;)

Naruto Masterlist: Here

Like always, Madara's presence was an issue and Hashirama was beginning to see how screwed they all were if he wasn't taken care of soon. He glanced at Tobirama who snarled down at the way Madara slaughtered the ninjas one by one without breaking a sweat. He hated him so much... And that fact alone made Hashirama fear what he would say once he voiced his crazy idea.

"We should revive Y/n"

Tobirama's head snapped to his older brother. For a split second, his eyes held shock and fear, but it quickly morphed into hatred. It wasn't that he hated you; Hashirama knew that.

It was something much darker than that.

"Are you insane? Why in the world would we resurrect our little sister?!" Tobirama spit out, causing the group around them to stare in confusion at what was happening. The third Hokage, however, knew why the second was so angry. Except, it wasn't anger. Sure it sounded like anger and felt like anger, but it was one thing and one thing alone.

Regret.

Tobirarma deliberately drove Madara out of the village, breaking your poor, innocent heart. He believed you would get over it and find someone else to love, but what he didn't plan for was you running away. Upon hearing that you had left, Tobirarma sent ANBU officers after you. While he was worried they wouldn't find you, the second he laid eyes upon your dead body, he wished they hadn't found you at all.

He didn't sleep for months.

"Tobirama, I know you don't want to face her, but she's our only hope-"

Tobirama scoffed, eyes rolling as he looked back down to the ninja being massacred below. Upon seeing just how few men were left, his gaze softened. Face his worst fear? Or let everyone die? Tobirama's eyes fell to his feet as the tears bubbled along his lashline. "Tobirama"

"Fine. Revive her"

Silence filled the space around him, his chest growing tight as he realized what he had just permitted. He managed to avoid you in the afterlife but he wasn't going to be able to run from you here. He turned back to watch the fighting below, but his eyes slammed shut as Hashirama chanted the jutsu out into the night air. Maybe if he just kept his eyes closed he could ignore you.

That wouldn't work though, he knew that.

A piercing screech sounded out causing his plan of being unavailable emotionally to fly out the window. He chanced a glance behind him, eyes open and wide at what he saw. The shrill cry that snapped him out of it was indeed flying from your lips, and your pained face made him want to die a thousand deaths. When someone is resurrected, they have the same feelings as the moment they died. Meaning that if you died a painful death and were revived, you would immediately feel that pain upon resurrection.

It would go away, once you realized you were no longer in pain, but hearing the sound you would have made in your last moments on earth made Tobirama want to run for the hills.

Hashirama wrapped his arms around you, coos flying from his lips as he tried to ease you into the living world. Tobirama couldn't stop himself, his body turning fully to face you and your confused state. Tears were streaming down your face, hands grasping at your neck as you fought for air. Your killers had slit your throat, making the image before him sicker than it would have been if he was free from that knowledge.

He did this to you.

Tobirama watched cautiously as you slowly began to take in your surroundings and the way Hashirama was holding you - Hashirama was always a better brother to you than he was. Tobirarma didn't have many regrets in his life, but all of them related to you.

~Your POV~

Your eyes wandered, searching for something in the crowd. What was it that you needed? The one thing you thought of before you died... You wouldn't remember until you saw-

Your face visibly softened, eyes widening as you took a shaky step towards him - your white-haired brother that you had been avoiding in the afterlife out of fear that he hated you. "Tobi?" you whispered. You could tell he wasn't expecting this outcome, what with how his eyebrows shot up in shock. You opened your mouth to say something, but the commotion below finally hit your ears and quiet mind, oh... You were revived for a reason.

You took in a sharp inhale of breath eyes widening as you raced towards where Tobirama was standing, but your eyes were no longer on him. If you could have died again from happiness, you would have. "Madara!" you cried out, mouth curving up into a loving smile.

"That's why we revived you, Y/n... We need your help with him"

Your head shot back to Hashirama, who was just as bewildered as Tobirama was - he knew you'd be excited to see Madara again. However, he was still reeling over your reluctance to run to Tobirama. They couldn't deny it, though. If Madara wasn't there, you would have indeed run to your brother. "Y/n," the white-haired man breathed out shakily. Now that you were here before him, the regrets came flooding back in. He should have let you marry the Uchiha, should have let you run away with him. But he was selfish.

He was the cause of your death.

Your mouth slammed shut, a frown replacing your smile as you gazed at the white-haired man behind you. The both of you took a deep breath.

"I'm so sorry"

Both of your eyebrows furrowed in confusion at the other's apology. Hashirama's eyes flicked between the two of you before he rolled them. Stepping forward, he placed his hands on both of your shoulders.

"I'll spell this out since we don't have time. Tobirama, Y/n is sorry for running away and disgracing the clan. Y/n, Tobirama is sorry for banishing Madara and being the cause of your death" The eldest hoped that the explanation would do, but it only seemed to have caused more confusion.

Silence filled the air before you both proclaimed: "You aren't a disgrace" and "You weren't the cause of my death" to each other. Hashirama sighed; if the two of you had just worked this out in the afterlife, they wouldn't be in this situation-

"We do not have time for this!!!"

Your eyes traveled to a blonde boy who couldn't have been older than 17. You scoffed playfully before throwing a look at the fourth Hokage, "Your kid, I presume?" He nodded sheepishly before scolding the teen, reminding him about who he was talking to. "He's got that Uzumaki fire... I will say..."

"HEY!"

"Enough." Hashirama hissed out, stopping Naruto's anger in its spot. Hashirama gripped your shoulder harder, "Can you help us stop him? I fear he will only listen to you... After all, all of this is for you."

Your eyebrows furrowed. "For me? I didn't ask for this". The silence that followed made your stomach flip.

"Madara... He was so heartbroken upon hearing of your death that he waged war on the village. He managed to rope Obito Uchiha into this war. Obito similarly lost the love of his life, so it was easy for Madara to manipulate him."

You let out a groan at Hashirama's words. Of course, this was for you. This was Madara, after all. "Did my fan come with me?" your question flew back towards the group near where you were resurrected. There was a commotion as they scrambled to look for it, but a sigh of relief fell from your lips when one yelled that your fan did indeed come with you.

You muttered a 'thanks' as the shinobi handed you the weapon. The same weapon you'd use when sparring with Madara. It was rather funny when you thought of it, your ninjutsu being wind and Madara's being fire. But it worked.

Depending on how you use it, it could extinguish the flames or intensify them. You two were a match made in heaven. A smile once more grazed your lips as you cracked your neck and jumped on the balls of your feet, trying to pump yourself up for what would surely be a heated exchange.

But it wouldn't be of malice. Oh no, this would be of love.

"Oh Gods, how I love him," you breathed out, heart hammering as you felt the love and ecstasy fill every crevice of your body. The shinobis were quiet around you, eyes widening as they took in your growing excitement to be reunited with him. Was this Uchiha such a bad guy? He was destroying the world in your name... He was destroying the world in the name of love. It was then, as they watched your lips part, that he wasn't an evil man.

He was a love-sick one.

"MADARA"

The fighting paused for a second, and your eyes locked with his. Everyone gasped as the air shifted from malevolence to adoration within seconds of the name leaving your lips. Not wanting to waste another moment, you hopped down from the cliff, heart soaring as you counted the seconds until you'd be in his arms again.

Madara raced towards you, no longer killing the shinobi that got in his way. Instead, he pushed them off. His only thought was you. He wanted you, no - NEEDED you.

And he is finally going to have you.

Your landing shook the ground; knees bent as you caught your breath. But you barely had a moment to stand fully as Madara swooped you into his embrace. The shinobi seemed to stop chasing him and stood confused at the soft display in front of them. Was this the same man they were fighting seconds ago? Were you his weak spot??

One shinobi moved, mind set on slaughtering you, but Madara shot a glare his way, daring him to proceed. The fear that coursed through him made him stop, and it finally clicked.

This was all for you.

Your hand forced Madara to look at you again, "No more fighting, I'm here now" Madara nodded at your words. The war now meant nothing to him, not with you being beside him again. "I can't stop Obito..." he whispered in slight shame. He hated disappointing you, and he was afraid that this would cause you to hate him, but the smile rising on your lips told him otherwise.

"They'll handle him... Why don't we go spar? We have a lot to catch up on... My love"

#madara uchiha imagine #madara uchiha imagines #madara uchiha x reader #tobirama senju #hashirama senju #naruto imagine #naruto imagines #naruto

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mari-lair · 9 months

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We are told at the very start of the manga that "if you want to know a person, you need to find out what makes them angry"

So I want to talk about Gon, and what makes him angry.

Gon is hard to anger, especially for a kid: He wasn't angry at his dad for abandoning him and never visiting, he wasn't angry at Mito for lying that his parents died, he wasn't angry when Leorio made everyone lose 50 hours at the trick tower despite revealing later in Hanzo's fight that his hope to meet his 'amazing hunter dad' would vanish if couldn't finish the exam on his first try like Ging did (there is no "better luck in the next exam" for Gon), he never gets jealous when Killua shows more strength or knowledge than him even though they are the same age and he used to be very powerful on his little island, and so on.

But is not hard for Gon to get angry for the ones he loves and admires: Be it angry for their safety or about people disrespecting their wishes.

His anger is stronger when his friend's lives are at risk, their safety triumphs over his wish to respect what they want.

But he doesn't care about his own life.

He is never angry when people hurt him. As Hanzo had put it, even injuries as severe as broken bones don't matter to Gon.

But Gon was visibly frustrated in Hanzo's fight.

He wants to win. And he wants to be the one to win not for Hanzo to forfeit. He wants proof that he is strong and capable and worthy of being in the last phase, aware he was only here because Hisoka let him pass.

The only person Gon feels any anger towards at the end of the exam is himself for being a hunter but not feeling like he is worth it of the title.

Gon is always the most angry at himself.

When Kite kills a foxbear, punching Gon for trespassing in their territory, Gon isn't angry at him or the fox bear that attacked him, he puts the full blame on himself and tries to make up for it by raising Kon.

When Killua goes 'back home' he gets angry at Illumi for making Killua do things he doesn't want, but he also blames himself for not being there for Killua when his fight with Illumi happened.

Similarly, his instinct when he learned, without a doubt, that Kite is beyond saving, was to blame himself.

He isn't thinking about Pitou, isn't even seeing them, blinded by Kite and his own guilt.

This quest for 'revenge' was never about Pitou, it was always about healing Kite. And since Pitou can't heal the dead, Gon blames himself, he is angry at himself.

Pitou is the one that killed him. Killua was the one that was terrified by Pitou's aura and knocked Gon unconscious to run. Kite was the one that told them to run. Gon is far from the "reason kite died" but he loves and respect Kite and Killua, so he obviously doesn't see anything wrong, he never once blames Killua for what happened.

In fact... He had thanked him

And Gon is genuinely grateful here.

It breaks my heart how much he loves and trusts his friends, eager to share all his good times and victories with them. Wanting them by his side always, no matter how personal his journey is.

But when something bad happens he wants to 'make it better' alone. Is never "we will fix this" is always "I will", because he doesn't want to trouble them, be it by his own emotions, or outside dangers.

Gon never blames his friends, so he is the one responsible when bad things happen, the only one that needs to fix any problem. And if death is a risk, he will immediately assign the lethal job to himself, and himself only.

Gon isolates himself when things get hard but he still doesn't want to be alone. He craves company and support more than ever when he is hurt.

But he doesn't like to feel weak or helpless, so asking for help or opening up is extremely hard. He mostly just gets angry at himself for feeling how he feels and refuse to make it someone else's problem.

He didn't cry after stealing Hisoka's badge but he was feeling helpless and unworthy so he sucked it up and went to do better, it was only after Kurapika asked directly if he was okay that he lowered his walls and found himself crying.

He is just a kid, he can't process his self hate, frustration, or guilt well, and his way to feel better is to help others, be useful and powerful. But sometimes that's not enough, or he simply can't help.

So he constantly finds himself in situations where he gets injured, physical pain is something that he is more used to, that it's easier to process: He let a foxbear cub claws his shoulders after his actions make Kite kill the cub's mother, he let 'puppet kite' hit him even when he learned its robotic attack pattern, he feels weak and frustrated because 'The Bomber' wasn't taking him seriously and he hates feeling weak, so he delayed Killua's plan and got his hands destroyed to prove to himself that he can do it.

But helping others is still the clear priority over hurting himself: The best example to show this is when he visits the Zoldycks. He never took his anger about the Zoldyck family's isolation on Canary when he visited Killua, letting her knock him down again and again in silence for a while before expressing his frustrations with how unfair it is that he need to go through trials to visit a friend.

And when Killua's mom visited, he prioritized canary over his goal.

Gon is just... kind. Is far easier for him to care about strangers than it is for him to be angry.

Gon is smart, but he is not the best at figuring out people when they don't tell him how they feel, especially when Gon is annoyed or unsatisfied.

So I am not surprised he assumed cool-headed killua, who hides all his pain and is so reliable and mature, "always cleaning up Gon's mess", wasn't in pain in the chimera ant arc. It’s like having someone say “be calm” when you’re angry, stating cold facts that only make you feel more incompetent in your emotional state.

It hurt because it feels like Killua, whose opinion Gon values so much, doesn't care about Kite, his super important mentor figure. And since Pitou’s behavior makes it so he can’t use them as an outlet for his emotions, this hint of anger and betrayal at Killua makes him lash out without thinking about his friend.

But even in his blinding guilt and hatred, Killua is important enough to still be able to calm him down, and reminds him of his goal.

Gon doesn't understand Killua is hurt (since killua doesn't tell him) but at least... He is not alone.

"I can't wait" --> He genuinely feels like Killua is as calm as he pretends to be, only he is the 'helpless and in pain' one in Gon's mind and so Killua could easily wait, but he personally can't. He is alone in his pain.

"how long must we wait?" --> Killua is here. Gon never feels truly alone with Killua by his side, he at least has the comfort of an anchor in these trying times.

Killua, who feels unwanted, hurt, and useless, also misunderstands Gon and leaves when Gon needed company the most. Is none of their faults, but it does make Gon's already incredibly bad state even worst.

There is no one but himself to calm him down when he hit his breaking point, and Gon isn't kind to himself.

His 'fight' with Pitou wasn't revenge. It was a failed attempt to "get kite back" to "fix him" which failed, and he couldn't deal with the resulting grief, so he turned it all into a suicide attempt.

To me, Gon gets angry when he feels inadequate or that a loved one deserves better, he has self-centered tunnel vision when he gets angry, so he doesn't realize his anger-fueled actions might trouble others, but when he does he will make an effort to set aside his own goals for others.

He is a good kid, a genuinely good kid with no self-love that is surrounded by adults that usually view him as a monster or a "admirable powerhouse" first and a child second, and it takes an enormous amount of strain to make him break.

He is a very strong kid, I wanna hug him.

#hxh #gon freecs #hunter x hunter #I still have so much more to talk about Gon... he make me so full of hope and depressed at the same time #but everyone is so smart in the hxh fandom i feel like i'm not really saying anything new #even if i do have too many feelings about this boy (my son!) to stay quiet #i'll try to not delete this like a scaredy cat tho #character analysis #gon freecss

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morverenmaybewrites · 3 months

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Imagine Wayne Manor as a Haunted House (Bruce Wayne x Reader)

Been thinking about Wayne Manor.

What it would be like as a haunted house, and Bruce Wayne cursed as its last living heir.

Imagine Wayne Manor as a haunted house, its great stone walls overgrown by twisting kudzu vines, its hallways creaking with the weight of all the tragedy that had befallen the Wayne family tree.

In an upstairs bathroom, a leaky faucet drips water like tears. A strange stain darkens the bottom of the tub, where one of Bruce's ancestors had drowned herself after the loss of her lover.

No one ever uses that bathroom, yet there are days when Bruce can hear running water. And he would feel a grief so profound that it would leech all of the color out of the sky.

And he would remind himself, with renewed determination, of all the terrible fates that befell anyone who has loved a Wayne.

Imagine Wayne Manor as a haunted house, older perhaps, than Gotham itself. Where the walls are overrun by kudzu vines, the fat purple clusters of their flowers all but hiding the weathered stone.

Except, perhaps, in the East Wing, where even the vines do not grow. The walls remain blackened, the windows cracked and warped. Here, there once lived an heir who thought that he could outlast the curse. Or perhaps he believed that there was no curse at all.

He had held the wedding on the grounds itself—ignoring the way the grass twisted around his bride's ankles like starving rats—and moved her into the East Wing that very night.

One would hope that they were happy in the week before the fire. Where the heat was so intense that it blackened the Manor's stone walls and the smoke that rose from it blotted out the sky.

One would hope they died instantly, suffocated in their sleep before they even knew what would happen.

And yet, Bruce knows they did not. Perhaps it is only his own pessimism. Or perhaps, the Manor wanted him to know.

It was she who died first. Her smooth skin turning cracked and leathery, blisters forming on her skin and bursting like the fat of a pig on a spit.

It was she who died first, and the heir had enough time to run away. To live with the knowledge of what he had done to her.

But he did not.

Instead, he lay down next to his bride and let the fire claim them both.

And Bruce Wayne, heir to Wayne Manor's wealth and tragedy memories, would wake up some nights with the taste of ash in his mouth.

Imagine Wayne Manor as a haunted house, a cursed house. A house that has claimed everyone its heirs have ever loved.

But oh, it is hungry. Its once-thriving grounds have become dry and barren. The grass that had once twined around a doomed bride's ankles have grown yellowed and shriveled.

For while its previous owners have kept it fed with its share of tragedies, Bruce Wayne had starved it.

Bruce Wayne, who as a child would wake up with the taste of ash in his mouth, who once used an upstairs bathroom where the faucet drips water like tears.

Bruce Wayne, who promised himself that he would be the last heir Wayne Manor would ever have.

Now, imagine you. You who have lived in Gotham City, your whole life.

You who would pass by the Wayne Manor on the way to classes or to work, and you would look at its barren gardens and its cracked windows.

And you would feel...something.

A pull perhaps or an ache, one that could only settled by approaching this house, this cursed lot, placing your hands against the wrought iron gate so that you can get a better look.

And you would see its blackened walls and its barren gardens, the grass yellowed and withered and dead.

And you would feel a strange sort of tenderness for a place that looks so unloved.

You feel the cold of iron against your palms, a flash of heat.

And then—

"Ouch."

Somehow, you had cut yourself against the gate. A wide cut, a deep cut, straight against the meat of your palm.

You don't quite know how it happened. And perhaps, it did not matter, because the only thing you can focus on is the pain that throbbed against your skin like a heart.

You curse, try to staunch the flow, and in doing so, you catch a glimpse of a figure.

Perhaps it was the mansion's old butler or perhaps one of its many ghosts. But as he approached, you knew that this could only be one person.

The heir to Wayne Manor was said to be a glib playboy, one who would spend rather spend his family's vast amount of wealth on drugs and women and sex than actually fixing his broken-down home.

And yet, when you meet him on that fateful day, he did not look like the blindingly beautiful man you had seen in the newspapers.

He didn't have a fixed smile that could have meant anything from loathing to adoration, he didn't wear a suit that cost more than your yearly salary.

That day, he looked human. He looked reachable.

Perhaps that was what made you accept the handkerchief he so graciously handed to you. Perhaps that is what makes you smile—a little clumsy, a little lopsided, but a smile all the same—as you say,

"Thanks a ton. See you around, Bruce Wayne."

And when you walk away, you do not look back.

You do not see what Bruce Wayne saw.

You do not see how your blood dries preternaturally fast on the surface of the black gate, as if something was drinking it in.

You do not see the way the grass along the driveway twists around your ankles like a starving rat.

And you definitely do not see the expression on Bruce Wayne's face when he realizes what it all meant.

Imagine Wayne Manor as a haunted house, its great stone walls overgrown by twisting kudzu vines, its once-barren gardens now blooming with life. Galica roses with buds so heavy that their stems drooped, as if begging one to cut them and place them in a bouquet.

Imagine Wayne Manor, which has fed well on centuries' worth of tragedies, as a house starved.

For its latest heir, Bruce Wayne, had vowed never to fall in love.

Had vowed that whatever curse lingered in his family tree like the rot in an oak would die with him.

Imagine your blood drying on a wrought iron gate. And a leaky faucet that drips water like tears for a story that already has an ending.

Imagine a blackened wall, and the story of a man who lay down next to dead bride, to be consumed alive in a fire.

Imagine Wayne Manor, its hallways creaking with the weight of all the tragedy that had befallen the Wayne family tree.

And now imagine: its hunger.

#bruce wayne x reader #batman x reader #i have been into too much gothic fantasy lately #more worldbuilding for my gothic fantasy gotham story #i initially wanted to make a short two sentence post as a joke #turns out i'm the joke!#Forbidden romance not because of family feuds or power dynamics #But because the house wants to fcking eat you

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takerfoxx · 6 months

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Personally, I feel that the reason Suletta and Miorine work so well as a couple is the same reason why they didn't work for me at first: they're just such fundamentally different people, with total opposite personalities, upbringings, values, desires, needs, strengths, weaknesses, traumas, the list goes on. If it weren't for the very strange set of circumstances that forced them to form a connection, I honestly doubt that they would even be friends, so much so that for the first few episodes, I found myself feeling weirdly disconnected from their relationship, and even found myself wondering if they even liked each other.

I mean, take a look at Suletta. She's a country girl from Mercury's mining colonies who never had any friends of her own growing up. She's a clone created in part to replace her older sister, in part to usher in her mother's plan to free her sister, and in part to be a weapon of revenge, leading to an extremely bizarre relationship with her mother that is equal parts affectionate and neglectful. She loves being around people, but is so socially anxious that any sort of interactions sends her into a stuttering fit. She's terrified of confrontation, and yet is larger and stronger than most, and put her behind the controls of a mech, and she will turn you into mincemeat. She's a total klutz when it comes to dealing with other people, and yet stays cool in a crisis and isn't phased by dead bodies. She trusts with her whole heart, measures her relationships by the value she gives to other people, blames herself whenever others let her down, can and will take a life without flinching to protect those close to her, and is delighted by something so simple as having others laugh at a joke that she made.

Now, take Miorine. A rich girl from an extremely powerful family, she lost her mother, quite possibly the only person to ever show her genuine kindness when she was a child, was "raised" by her contemptuous and neglectful excuse for a father, and grew to resent everyone and everything around her. She hates being around people, but has the confidence and social knowledge to play the game. She's tiny and physically weak, but also angry and assertive. She openly loathes her father and will insult him to his face, but also desperately craves his approval. She's been used as a commodity her entire life by people who see her as a stepping stone into power, and is bound and determined to make everyone who tries damned to a living hell. She was raised in luxury in space, but dreams of running away to what is essentially a refugee camp of a planet. She wants so badly to be allowed to stand on her own two feet and be respected for her own accomplishments, but has no real idea how to do it. She views relationships as transactions, has exactly zero patience for other people's nonsense, can and will sacrifice her own happiness for the sake of the select few that she cares about, will run headlong into the most harrowing of political battles, but also fall apart completely when confronted with the reality of death.

And, like I said, for whatever reason I just didn't feel the sparks between them at first. Their whole relationship just felt like a mutually beneficial arrangement, like it was said to be.

But then we got to that magical episode, where they had that amazingly written misunderstanding in the greenhouse, followed by that incredible argument on the space station, and I realized that this was the plan all along, and Suletta and Miorine are actually perfect as a couple...once they've managed to bridge the gap between their extremely different life experiences and massive communication issues.

See, what's so great about them is that while they are extremely different, those difference are also perfectly compatible. One's strength is the other's weakness, and together they make each other better. In a way, they're less opposites and more of two halves of one complete whole. It was Miorine's confidence that allowed Suletta to start standing up for herself, to learn confidence and make real friends, to figure out what love is. And it was Suletta's bravery that inspired Miorine to find a way to make something of her own, to seek out ways to use their families' legacies to help people instead of hurt them, to bridge gaps long carved out by blood. And in the end, they were two desperately lonely girls who just wanted someone to truly, honestly, and unconditionally love them, and they found it in each other.

Granted, it was rough going for a bit. Like I said, they had such different ways of seeing the world, they didn't communicate in the same way, they didn't see relationships in the same way, and they ended up hurting each other just trying to do what they thought was best. But they also forgave one another. They strove to better understand one another. And they came to realize just how much they needed each other. And though it took even greater loss and pain in order to achieve it, they finally found their happy ending. They found each other.

#gundam witch from mercury #wfm #suletta mercury #miorine rembran #suletta x miorine #sulemio #wfm spoilers

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morgana-ren · 4 months

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I wanted the full analysis!!! 🙏 Also I can't become a goddess </3 sadness

You wouldn't want to, babe. Sounds like fun, but Godhood is-- well, it's not great in DnD. It attracts exactly who you think it would: The naive, or the power-hungry and unworthy.

Well, let's look at Gale and his ultimate motivations:

When you meet him, he's straight-forward although fully polite, charismatic, and very much a 'wizard' archetype, as in noticeably and actively intelligent but in a strangely awkward way. Charming, talkative, but earnest. As you get to know him, you learn more about his plight and his struggles, his prodigal upbringing, his dalliances with Mystra, his fall from grace, and his inevitable charge with 'ending' this little uprising by the upstart Dead Three-- and ending his own life in the process.

Most people, you would think, would have an ounce of self-preservation upon being told "Hey, you need to kill yourself to end this." Even the rest of the group, up against ridiculous odds, are holding on to the glimmer of hope that they can survive.

Not Gale. Gale just basically goes "Okay. So be it." While he does mourn in a way, he mourns more over his initial mistake than he does the loss of his own life. He thinks of all he did wrong, all the 'pain' he caused. the loss he caused himself, and his rejection at Mystra's hands for which he entirely blames himself.

Gale is a victim of grooming. It is framed in a strange way, since the one doing the grooming is a Goddess, but he is absolutely a victim. He tells you that Mystra has been with him since he was a boy, which yes, you can frame as he is a wizard and she is essentially magic incarnate, but it doesn't stop there. She doesn't encourage him as a pupil-- she takes him as a lover. As a conduit of her own power. Carnally.

She takes him into her bed, and as a lover.

Had Mystra been just an elderly powerful witch, this would have been way more fucking obvious to people. But because she is a God and her whims are unknowable, it's essentially shrugged off-- which I feel like is part of his arc.

Gale did what he did because he was on completely fucking uneven tier with his own lover. The power dynamic was abusive. He could not be on her level and she expected him to be fine with that. She demanded excellence but when he delivered, she spurned him. He was expected to be brilliant and perfect-- but not too much. And when he was perfect? He still could never be enough. She is a goddess and he is expected to bow and scrape. She groomed him to admire and revere and worship her, and then told him to sit down and be happy with what little he was given.

He needed to prove himself her equal. He needed her approval. He needed it because it was a relationship to him, and one he physically could not win at.

Gale is a human. He needs love and connection and fairness. Mystra, by her own nature, cannot give this-- and she doesn't want to.

Gale knows well the callousness of the Gods. Not just with Mystra, but from his tower, he can see injustice and pain and misery. He is extremely empathetic and cares so deeply. His eldest companion, the Tressym Tara, was an accidental summon that stayed with him for life and became intrinsically involved with his family. He knows love. He knows pain. He is a good man.

Gale seeks knowledge, though he does not seek it for power. He seeks it out of genuine and earnest desire to help. To make people's lives better. Yes, he seeks to be seen as intelligent and brilliant because he is, but he is not a selfish being.

For 'good' players, he is one of the easiest approvals to get, because he very much approves of just being a good person. Helping. Being kind and lending a hand. Saving lives. Using your strength and power for good.

But again, Gale is human. And the folly of the clever man is to believe everyone around him is a fool. He, in all his brilliance, found a way he thought he could help. A path that has been tread time and time again with naught but the misery and bewailings of those who came before to show for it as a warning. But he thought he was different. He thought he could pull it off.

He could become a God.

Secretly, he found a way to put himself on even tier with Mystra-- and do what she did not have the compassion, kindness, or even desire to do. To use Godhood for good. To use all that magnificent power to achieve goodness rather than greatness. To be an active God in the lives of mortal men. To make the world better.

He thought that he could maintain his connection with humanity through his apotheosis and ultimately exist with one foot in each world; To straddle mortality and immortality and put reins on them both.

You are warned repeatedly throughout the game that this is bad. That many have tried and all have failed. Humans are not meant to be gods, and you cannot exist as a hybrid. If you are a God, you are a god. If you are a man, you are mortal. The mortal mind cannot tether Godhood. It is not possible. Best case scenario, you lose yourself. Worst case? You are punished eternally for your hubris.

To be a God is to be unknowable. To see the threads of time and the futility of it all. You are ripped from your conscious mind as a man and you can no longer relate. Lives and suffering, they are all fleeting, miniscule things from your mountain on high. All men must die; why is tonight different from any other night? Why is your suffering so great that a god should take interest? What are you to me, little mortal? Your kingdoms shall fall and burn and crumble and be rebuilt and crumble again but my temple shall remain, and when you are but dust in the fickle wind, you too shall know my eternal glory.

The way Mystra looked at Gale.

An instrument. A tool. A temporary amusement and benefactor. He is a mere man and she is a Goddess and when his bones bleach in Selune's unforgiving sun, she shall choose a new apprentice to take unto her bed. And so the wheel of time spins endlessly on.

A large theme of the game is the malevolence of some Gods and the utter indifference of others.

Selune's perceived abandonment of Ketheric that led to his downfall and madness. He lost his wife and daughter after an entire life of servitude, and he did not even receive comfort in return. She is considered a good natured Goddess, and even she is cruel in her neglect and indifference when it does not suit her.

Shar and her utter disregard and even active disdain for her most devout-- and everything else. Viconia, who committed her life to Shar, cast aside for a Selunite orphan on a whim. Her hatred of living creatures and her manipulations. Her outright malevolence and reverence for their suffering. You see her cruelty both from an outside and inside perspective, and her circular doctrine that makes no sense, her faith that demands all and gives nothing in return.

The Gods that are active are only so malevolently. Bane devouring Gortash after his defeat despite how far he'd gotten in his name. Myrkul abandoning Ketheric as well in the end. Bhaal discarding his own children when the do not suit his whims.

"We are but bronze pieces in their pocket to be traded on a whim. You may have beaten me, but the truth is, the Gods beat me first."

It is literally a thematic constant.

Sure, they can do good. They have devout worshipers and can be seen doing some level of good-- Isabelle and her protection of the Last Light, for example. But it's never quite them, is it? It is the humans that utilize their power. The humans who care. Selune did not protect them of her own volition. Her magic was invoked.

Gale's goal was to become both. To have the power and will of a God but the consciousness and mind of a man.

Mark my words, you would go mad.

Gods see eons. The endless tide of eternity drifting endlessly on. Imagine the incessant screams. The pleading. The misery. The death. The horror at the hands of man and your fellow Gods. Even all of your power, all of your prestige could not save them all.

And even if you could-- even if you could-- Ao demands a level of indifference. It is one of the fundamental rules.

Gale must accept this, or he will become that which he sought to rectify. He must learn that to love and care so deeply is to be mortal. That to retain all that made him beautiful and wonderful, he must be humbled and rather do as he can rather than all he feels capable of. He must seek Mystra's forgiveness (disgusting) on a symbolic level and accept that he is a mortal and his hubris would be his downfall. Gods and mortals should not mix.

But if he does not? If he utilizes the Crown of Karsis?

He becomes a god. He gets his wish. And in true Faustian fashion, the price he pays makes the prize worthless.

He becomes an arrogant, disconnected, detached, miserable pile of sectorless divinity.

He becomes callous. Cruel. When asked about all those people he longed to save, he shrugs. He no longer speaks of the mortal realm, he speaks of the beauty and frivolity of Elysium. Of the wonders of Godhood and all he understands-- or has forgotten. He has completely detatched from mortality and only deigns to come down from his fucking halcyon world to bless you-- his former friends-- with his magnanimous presence. To let you know how lucky you are. How blessed.

All that power he has? Useless. Used to prop himself on a pedestal same as every other filthy fucking God.

His deepest, most treasured friend will tell him this, and how does he respond? By basically telling her 'You don't know shit.' He ignores her. Threatens you if you try. A man who was willing to give his life selflessly to save the world will now threaten divine wrath if you even so much as irritate him. He will swing that hammer of power down just to prove a fucking point.

If you loved him and refuse him? Utterly disconnected. No genuine feeling. Just looking down on you like the silly little human you are. When you refuse him, he is disconnected from who he was and what he ever felt for you. Gale, a man who was groomed and just wanted love on an equal playing field; a man desperately lonely in his brilliance; a man so distraught by what he felt that he sought to break the barrier and become a god, not for power, but for benevolence-- he becomes Mystra.

He is no longer Gale. He is the God of Ambition. Another useless god in a pantheon of useless ideas. What good is ambition if it does not serve a purpose? To make him the god of ambition is to spit in his face, because what was his ambition? Where is it now, Gale? What are you?

What is your ambition and where the fuck is it now?

Gale is a kind, caring, compassionate man who went through a horrible, traumatic event that changed who he was fundamentally. Dumped and abandoned by his Goddess, it burned him. It hurt him in such a way that he made it his goal to change this dynamic and to become what she could not.

He was still in love with her. Of course he was. How it must be to love something that you know can never love you back. That you are one of many, and your time is over. You have served your purpose. And if you die, you die. If the realm dies, so be it.

Gale's is a story of hubris born of love. A man gifted with intelligence and power that he only wanted to utilize for the best; to do what he thought was right. He wasn't clawing after the crown for raw power's sake. He wanted to help. That's all he ever wanted.

The bookworm that will talk your ear off about his cat and his studies and his love of books. A man so brilliant that it's painful at times. A man who loved his mother and his cat. A man who loved a goddess and, in a story that could have no happy ending, decided to give everything to make it so. If it meant dying, then so be it. He wasn't clawing for the crown to save his own life. He was doing it to save everyone else's.

He fundamentally misunderstood the nature of the Gods. He touched divinity and it looked at him with a human countenance and so he believed he could grasp it.

The Gods are powerful, and yes, they are unknowable and, in a way, infinite-- but they are callous and cruel and indifferent. They are power with no outlet. Useless. They gaze upon humanity like rats in a cage, uncaring and unfeeling. Separated entirely. Sometimes they deign to make their presence known. But mostly? They sit on their heavenly thrones and revel in their own brand of bullshit.

This is what Gale will become. It is an insult to an incredible man to take away all that made him incredible and make him another b-lister jumpstart God up his own ass. Caring and love are work. They are pain. It is suffering and agony. But that is what separates us from them. We do not, and in some cases, cannot separate. It is our world, and we live in it. We must breathe in the poisons. Smell the blood that soils the earth. It is our world and we cannot separate. We love and we help and we learn--

Gale wanted to help. So he became a God.

But what do Gods do?

They watch. Through the gray window of indifference, they watch. They watch us tear each other open. They watch other Gods tear us open. They watch the wounds. They watch the graves. They watch the fires rage.

They watch and they listen to the screams. And when they are bored of them? They shut them out.

Gale became a god.

And so too shall he watch, removed from it all.

Not an ounce of humanity left in a man that ached so for humanity itself that it damn near drove him mad.

#morgana and friends #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #I have an interesting relationship with the gods #I prefer the evil ones because at least they do not PRETEND #Bane does not PRETEND to give a damn

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simplysparrow14 · 1 year

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I think the one thing that I love the most about GoW (2018) and GoW: Ragnarok is the fact that the women of the world have the most power out of all of their male counterparts. And it isn't because they have higher power or any special abilities.

It is because they are women. And they are messy and angry and don't always have the best view of the world, themselves or others.

And that they are actually respected by the story itself.

Like, say what you will about how Faye had to die to kickstart Kratos' redemption arc, but I find it unbelievably badass that said dead woman played the long-game of the century, made herself a living legend in all of the 9 realms, knew fully that she was going to die young, but instead of wallowing in despair, she chose to smile and love her husband, son, her heritage and friends to the fullest despite it all.

Freya rallies armies, beats the shit out of her ex, regains her warrior spirit, reunites and rekindles her relationship with both her Valkyrie sisters, Kratos and Atreus and twin brother, heals from the death of her son and regains a new family.

Angrboda uses her companionship, trust and gentleness with Atreus to show him a glimpse at the life and skills of a giant, peace and comfort and overall domesticity that he had been lacking back home due to odin and fimbulwinter, as well as give him the skills needed for his journey into who Loki is.

The Valkyries are able to be well respected warriors who are fully proud to be fighting aside true commanders and fighters and not have to follow Odin's command.

Thrud becomes worthy to wield her fathers hammer, is respected by her mother and those around her for the first time.

Sif controls, rallies and persuades Thor, the meanest of the aesir to nearly kill Atreus and Kratos for revenge against the deaths of their sons, just by her words and love for him alone. SHe even tries to be a better mother to Thrud due to having lost Magni and Modi.

The Norns freely use their creepiness and vast knowledge of fate and time and wisdom to scare the shit out everyone they meet and because of that, people don't dare mess with them, not even fucking mansplain-manipulate-manslughter Odin.

The Lady beneath the water is so respected and worshiped that it's factually known that you don't talk to the lady, she talks to you.

A lot of GoW is about swinging axes and ripping apart enemies. But the most powerful characters don't do that. They use their emotions and smarts and intelligence rather than their fists.

the true character arc for God of War isnt about Kratos at all.

It's the fact that God of War went from a dudebro power-fantasy hack-n-slash game where the women were either relegated to sex minigames, sub-par emotional justification for *why* we are killing gods, and villainous roles---to actual 3-dimentional characters who are given proper respect, courtesy and value, who are integral to the story as a whole and are crucial to the long term consequences of the game.

#god of war #god of war ragnarok #gow ragnarok #kratos #atreus #angrboda #freya #the norns #thrud #sif #gow faye #gow spoilers

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balkanradfem · 4 months

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It was a while ago I read this tumblr post, which still comes to my mind every time I think about the future. It was explaining in an insightful way, how it's not a violent revolution that will bring forward the better future, it's slow and consistent change of our everyday life, of our habits, the resources we use and the way we go about achieving things. If we're hoping for a future where we're not dependent on capitalism, not destroying the environment, not robbed of our labour for a fraction of the money we need to survive, we'll have to slowly die capitalism out, by changing our own living habits.

If a sudden shift happened, and capitalism stopped functioning overnight, for most of the people that would be unsurvivable, all of the resources, food, jobs and life-sustaining services would stop. And we can't afford that. But, if instead we slowly backed away from it, generated alternatives, created communities and systems that can sustain us without capitalism, then it would only be a matter of time before capitalism is fully dead, with everyone alive, everyone safe. And this slow shift would be able to happen through decades and generations, and it would still be a great positive shift, with a future in sight. Capitalism offers no survivable future, seemingly ready to last as long as it can by destroying whatever is left from the environment and people alike, for the benefit of the few.

So let's see how we got here, or how I feel, looking back, we got here.

People used to be less dependent on a global system of distribution of resources, even just a 100 years ago; survival and trade skills were passed down in families and communities, and people would be able to make inside of their home and communities, a big percentage of things that we today would buy at the store. In those times there was no other way to gain those resources but by relying on people's knowledge, skill and labour. The future, however, promised a more convenient and easy way to gain all those resources, because they would be made by machines, and thus cheaper. And things kept coming in cheaper, for no visible labour required; you just needed to have money to buy them, which not everyone had.

But this too, would change as cheaper and cheaper things arrived, and it became less convenient to make those things yourself or within your community, and more convenient to just trade some money, and have it all be done for you. For people then, it could mean less energy spent on survival, more leisure time, more health and longer lifespan – except, it didn't, because the jobs that they needed to earn that money, tended to take all of that away. So still, there was a lot produced at home or within the communities, independent workshops and artist shops, so people within in the community would benefit from each other, instead of benefiting some faceless global corporation.

And now we know where this went; conveniences started lining up to the point where not having a certain convenience meant that you were below the norm. They sometimes got mixed up with inconveniences, but those inconveniences were 'necessary'. For instance, pollution became necessary, highways, huge trucks delivering goods, the oil industry, destruction of forests and habitats, exploitation of the poor, extinction of certain animals, and by the end of it, the climate change.

When I was born, my mother and grandmother still attempted to pass some skills that their mothers taught them; I remember being taught how to knit at the age of 5, the activity which at that age, seemed awfully tedious and was soon abandoned, and my grandmother showed me how to crochet, which I also soon forgot. After the age of small child, they both looked at the world, shrugged and decided 'she won't need it', and they have stopped trying to teach me any skills of the sort.

Buying things, rather than making them, already seemed the norm. People were readily telling you that you are stupid for trying to make something, when you could get it in the store, for very little money. Having animals at home, or growing food, was slowly getting replaced by buying it cheap, or buying tons of snacks, and biscuits and cakes, which now you could get pre-packaged, readily available to consume at your leisure. If it brought lots of waste from packaging, plastic and other non-degradable materials, nobody cared, it was new, convenient, and available, and we would have it, and live luxuriously.

Soon nobody seemed to talk anymore, about what we used to do before we were able to buy anything we could possibly need at the store; nobody would tell me what were the names of the native plants, and which ones I could make into teas, I was instead told to change my priorities because this kind of behaviour will never get me any money. All of my efforts to do arts and crafts, to forage, to make things from scratch, to paint and invent stories, were called frivolous, because they would not generate the one thing that was now the only thing worth generating: money.

It simplifies things a lot, instead of making various, interesting, self-made and beloved items that would all require different knowledge and skills, a human is now required to put all of their talents into 1 thing that would generate revenue, and then do that one thing, for entire life, and this would present a normal life on earth now. This was how it was presented to me, and it was before I found out that keeping one job for the whole life, was no longer an option, that changing jobs was the norm and was not often volountary. I did not, however, understand how doing that one job would not make someone go insane, and nobody was explaining that to me, it was just, the life.

So while the world was shifting into this new concept of 'make nothing but money', the first millionaires started to appear, the billionaire was not even conceptual, having 1 million was equal to being the richest person on the planet. That is pretty laughable to us now. Back then, it felt like heading into a new exciting world, but we know better now. We understand that lives consisting of a job and thousands of conveniences, easily sends a human being into a depression. We understand that relying on a job to keep us alive, and having constantly to compete with everyone else unemployed, to get one, has brought us to a place where others are a competition, not a resource, not a community. We understand that living in a world where we have to market ourselves as a resource, causes a lot of us to lose self confidence and the feeling of value, while it sends others into obsession with becoming popular, gaining perceived value, gathering a public image, that would later prove to be profitable.

By this time, unknown to us all, this life of convenience and consumerism had caused immense damage to the environment, and we were mostly kept in the dark about it, so we wouldn't complain. We learned about the holes in the ozone layer, but were told it was merely the fault of certain aerosols, and the rest of the stuff was fine. We would in the future get to watch oil spills and devastation of animal habitats, never fully connecting it to corporations who were responsible. Acid rains were mentioned, but we were told they caused by the new pesticides, but it was the fault of the farmers, they said, who simply used too much of it. Now we know it was the exhaust fumes from cars, factories and coal power plants. Climate change was barely mentioned, and even less believed in. And now, we can no longer ignore it.

So, what do we do in order to progress? We obviously can't go back to where we came from, but we are now made aware that the amount of energy and resources we're consuming, and the amount of toxic waste we're creating, will devastate the planet to the point where a big chunk of it will become inhabitable, millions of both people and animals, will end up dead if we keep going. But wait! How can I blame the people for any of this, when it's obviously the corporations that are doing the most damage, lobbying and hiding what is in actuality going on? And you're completely correct, I would have to say, it is corporations, and for the most time, we really didn't know the extent of damage they were doing. So why are the corporations exactly doing all of this? For profit. And who's giving them all that profit? Well, the consumers, by consuming all of the oil, energy, goods, resources and products they make. So how do we take down the corporations? By not giving them any of the profits. But, we can't do that in the current state of the world, we need cars, and food, and that food to be shipped and delivered from the distant lands, and we are all depressed and if we can't at least have our favourite snack, food we're used to, little treats and pieces of clothing that make us happy, we no longer feel like we can live!

And that's where the slow and meaningful habit shift comes into place. The thing is, we're not the same people we were 50 or 100 years ago, we don't have the skills of our ancestors, we're not used to producing our own resources, we are out of touch with nature, and we struggle to find our communities and feel valued. But we also have, so much more information and education at our fingertips. We have more scientific data, we have more access to information, we have more people creating public resources, we have the experiences and wisdom of generations back, only waiting for us to reach out, to tap into what the humanity knew centuries ago.

We're made to do various activities! We thrive on changing our habits by season, even by weeks. We thrive in communities, with no competition for resources. We love creating art, music, crafts and beauty just for fun, and the communal value of it cannot be compared to money. We don't like being reduced into human resources or labour force, we don't like repetitive activities that don't produce results or seem nonsensical, we don't like to be stuck within one room for most of the day, we don't like being replaced when we stand up for our rights.

I can already see a lot of people valuing all of the things on this planet that cannot be exchanged for money, but have intricate value in our lives and experiences; wild animals, plants, forests, environments and ecosystems filled with life, little stories and jokes we tell to each other, making crafts just for the sake of making things, creating their own clothes or fabrics, learning how it was done in the past; growing food, foraging, herbalism, basketry, making of soap and fixing things on our own, visible mending, connections and building communities, we are remembering it's what we want and need, and we're not going to build it the way it was in the past; we're going to do it our own way, with the knowledge and experience we have, the way we think is the best. All we need to do is start small. Do one little shift that takes you one tiny step away from consumerism. Add one little enrichment in your life that doesn't have anything to do with money or purchasing. Find little ways to save on energy that doesn't make any dips in your happiness or comfort levels, that only requires a little bit of your attention or focus to do.

Big shifts are not sustainable, and are not survivable, but we didn't get here by a big shift; we got here by a series of small, almost invisible shifts that we barely felt were happening, until it was our new normal. We can do small, painless shifts too, but this time, they're going to be conscious, purposeful, with thoughts of the future behind it, and they're going to come from us. Not the corporations, not the money holders, but us, pushing the future to the direction that we want.

#anti-capitalism #essay #long post #capitalism #environmentalism #climate change #future #environment #saving energy #leaning away from capitalism

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borzoilover69 · 1 year

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ULTIMATE JAKE: an idea and an execution

iA I Aka the post where borzoi talks to the crowd how awesome Lord Jake English is, the guy that everyones seen around, but have no idea who he is. Pull up a chair, this will get long.

If Ultimate Dirk can be summarised by the mask of tragedy in theatre, LE Jake, AKA Ultimate Jake, could be summarised by the mask of comedy. I’ve barely read HS2, but from what I can see, Dirk wants to make a serious nitty gritty tragedy of serious and epic proportions. But he tries so hard that he ends up making it almost laughable.

Jake wants to make a thighslapper huckshaw comedy where everyones having a grand old time but there is such deep and hollow tragedy hidden within the folds of all those pretty smiles.

If anything they abide a lot by aristotles theory on comedy and tragedy. While tragedy imitates men better than average, comedy parodies those who are worse.

Aristotle stated that those of a more serious type that may have once been inclined to celebrate the actions of great heroes in poetry and prose turn to tragedy, while those who’ve been dishonourable, humbled, turn to comedy. It comes down to duality, tragedy viewing duality as a fatal contradiction forever a fault in things, while comedy views it as natural, but something that everyone must live with the best they can, enjoy. Do you see where I’m going here? Dirk, who praised Aristotle and read the epics turned to tragedy. Jake, dishonourable and hiding from those who he care about, turning to comedy. They line up well with the cognitive psychology of the tragedy and comedy visions, which you should totally look into when you can.

Tragedy is idealistic, stubborn and serious. They long for something higher and greater than common existence. They value heroism, hierarchy, and finality.

Comedy is pragmatic, adaptable, and playful. They consider the self, comfortable in their own skin. They’re anti-heroes, valuing situation-based ethics and reversal.

With that out of the way, lets keep to philosophy like it’s a boat in the atlantic. If Dirks look in life upon going ult is one of pessimistic realism, Jake is an absurdist.

If life is a cruel joke to jake, and it has been, then in his ultimate form hes acknowledged it, and given the cruel void, hes decided to seek out his own meaning. And it just so happens to be his best friend.

Misc details

- Capitalist

- He wears old 3D movie glasses because he’s that idiot.

- He collects a lot of things. He has plenty of things hes shot killed and stuffed in his collection.

You could say he’s rather past oriented, taking care to document it all out of interest and perhaps a subconcious pursuit to figure out the future.

- Very apathetic. He may be charming, but he’s still a jackass. He thinks existence itself is funny, he’s an absurdist; but he’s also a guy who realises he’s been kicked to the curb too many times and started shooting people. - His crew consists of John/June, (in place of rose. They have a lot of movie nights!), Karkat, and one (1) dead dave.

And finally some thoughts about ult Dirkjake: Maybe Dirk wants Jake to just kill him. It’s a game of cat and mouse, and perhaps it’s love for someone who deems himself unworthy, no, incapable of doing so. What better love than to kill someone? To trust and know they will kill you. Feeling safe in the knowledge they’ve known you in every universe and are here to kill you. Not that Jake would let him. I like them.. I think it’s my fave brand of dirkjake besides the original.. they’re dysfunctional, intolerable, and they hate each other, but it’s just interesting. For better or for worse, they’re stuck, and they’re not afraid of the fact they suck. If anything, it’d spur them to be worse.

“Oh yeah. I find the other guy fucking annoying and I’d gladly take a moment to rip his guts out and walk him around a tree until they’re all out and he's calling me every bad name he can think of, but if anyone tries doing this shit with him without my consent, I’m going to be hells of more pissed off.”

Look. It’s funny in the way that realistically, they could probably do a lot of damage to everyone else but due to the fact they know the other guy exists, they’re too busy trying to kick the others ankles out and then beating each other up to become dangerous.

Oh you bet your nanny it’s the gayest most fucked up kismesis known to man. Ultimate Dirk hates LE Jake, because he doesn’t give a damn. Because Jake makes him feel things he denies feeling. And that ridiculously, somewhere in paradox space, Jake went ultimate and decided he was going to man up and pursue Dirk to the ends of the universe. Ultimately: “My soul is bound to you in explicable ways. Our bonds cross the multiverse and wherever you are, somewhere I am by your side. Even in a hundred universes, maybe even a million. I will still find you.”

Perhaps the greatest thing and a closing note is that given they are the ascended versions of themselves, they’re aware of the fact that they’re aware of every time the other guy screwed them over, kicked them in the balls, etc. But they’re also able to see everything else. So what’s with a little hatelove eh?

#homestuck meta #dirkjake #ultimate dirk #ultimate jake #homestuck #ultimate rose: ive seen the light and you two either need to get laid or die #jake english #dirk strider #a lot of philosophy/#borzoi talks #borzoi meta

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kwillow · 4 days

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I have this strong feeling that theo would be very happy to live in one of my oc's nations. (Hes a minotaur prince of a country that religiously collects any and ALL forms of knowledge cause they believe knowledge no matter what about or how you got it, is not evil also they do necromancy) Unless theo likes to lie in which case just dont do it infront of the crown prince and he'll be golden. The prince tends to skin people alive for lying to him u.u

Theo's a man of ethics, you know. He's taken a Hypocritic Oath.

Alas, I worry Theo might not be as at home in such a nation as one might think, despite his, erm, hobbies.

His studies into necromancy/blood magic are done out of a sense of filial duty, and as a rather fussy man with a prudish personality, he finds the hands-on application of it quite revolting and something to be endured rather than enjoyed. Additionally, Theo may be a nerd who loves books and dark magic and books about dark magic, but he is also a proud scion and adherent of an archaic aristocratic line. As such, he comes packaged with some rather staid, traditionalist values and the belief that most people are inherently his lesser. His few social experiences haven't dissuaded him from the opinion that the vast majority of people are some combination of brutish, stupid, and dissolute.

All that to say - he believes that he himself has the proper motivations, intellect and capacity for self-control (ha) to practice responsible crimes against nature, but would he say the same of wide swathes of society? Certainly not! A kingdom wherein necromancy is widespread and celebrated would naturally have too many lowly people who should never practice such a gruesome, potent art doing so, and that means the kingdom itself must be corrupt.

He would view the collection of dubiously-attained knowledge similarly. He would certainly like to partake in such knowledge, because he is a noble man of good breeding and fine manners who can understand and apply such knowledge with a gentleman's delicate touch. As a curiosity, and out of an appreciation for historical artifacts, he would like ancient tomes of evil work preserved, but not accessible to the unwashed masses who would sully them or use them for ill. Better to remain in a private library, read only by those who engage in appropriate self-flagellation after. Who decides what to preserve and which people should get access to it? Well, himself, of course! He wouldn't trust any other curator's judgment. Another strike, in his view, against a kingdom with a laissez-faire approach to science.

Also, while he values (often brutal) honesty and is certainly not a consummate confabulator of the caliber of Hyden or Ambroys, Theo will use deception to achieve his own ends. Just... not often very well. He's not exactly rocking a Charisma build. He also tends to chafe against male authority figures, especially if they threaten any consequences of his actions. It might end badly for him on the "skinning alive" front.

Anyway - I wouldn't stamp Theo's visa to the minotaur prince's kingdom, for everyone's sake. Best case scenario, he rudely complains about everyone there being debased reprobates the whole time and everyone is extremely uncomfortable. Worst case scenario, I've got one dead rat-sans-pelt and the city's libraries have been ransacked by a man who feels like common people are too dumb and immoral to read medical textbooks and the Kama Sutra alike.

#asks #theo #amaranthine #my draws #sorry he is VERY difficult to get along with #he's got the personality of a tube of mentos balanced above a bottle of coke on the head of a pin #any slight breeze will cause a catastrophic meltdown - or at least a big mess #also “hypocritical” is my favorite trait to give a character so that doesn't help

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andreafmn · 5 months

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12 Days of Ficmas ❅ Day 6

Word Count: 3.5K Paring: Emily Prentiss x Fem!Reader Prompt @12-days-of-ficmas: fighting while setting up the christmas tree/soft emo reconciliation

Summary: (Y/N) took her girlfriend's death very hard. But when Emily reappears seven months after everyone thought they had buried the agent, things between the couple seem to go back to how they were. (Y/N) always understood how important her girlfriend's job was and she never complained. Still, it can be hard to remain understanding when yet another plan is canceled and another promise is broken.

A/N: well, another sad one with a happy ending... I told y'all it'd be a sorta sad Christmas 🫣

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There were so many things that (Y/N) was that Emily loved. She was smart, witty, and understanding. Over all things, she was understanding.

After Emily’s supposed death, she had been devastated and had found it hard to get her life back during the seven months she was by herself. Although life went on, (Y/N) was stuck mourning for her partner without any knowledge that the woman would walk through the door alive and better than ever. Everything in her life had fallen down a monotonous spiral of dread, and suddenly she was there.

And (Y/N) understood. Even after she had lost seven months of her life, she understood. Even if she had mourned her girlfriend that entire time, she understood. Even if she had prepared to go the rest of her life without the woman she had given her entire heart to, she understood.

Because that was Emily’s job. It entailed high-risk situations, secret keeping, and even the potential fake-death scenario. Simply unavoidable work problems. And, of course, she just understood.

Two months had passed since the woman’s return, and things had seemed to settle down. They had fallen back into their normal routines, living as though they hadn’t lived completely different lives for over half a year. As though Emily hadn’t been only a continent away when (Y/N) thought she was six feet under. And with the holidays coming up, it was no use bringing up the past.

“Hey, baby,” (Y/N) said through the phone. “What time were you getting home tonight? I got us some matching sweaters and another one for Sergio. Oh, and I made some chicken pot pie, and I had Joe bring up the tree. So we can decorate it tonight. And…”

“(Y/N), honey,” Emily interrupted. “I’m not gonna make it home tonight.”

“No, but… you said you’d be home tonight,” she chuckled softly. “You told me you’d taken the week off until Christmas so we’d have some time together.”

“I know, and I’m really sorry,” the woman said. “We just got this massive case, and it’s out of state. It’s probably gonna take the entire weekend. But I promise I’ll be home by Monday —Monday night at the latest.”

“Of course,” (Y/N) said, swallowing the anger that was bubbling in her throat. “I understand. Just be safe, Em. I love you.”

“I love you, too, honey. Thank you for being so understanding,” Emily responded. “And don’t decorate that tree. I wanna do that with you.”

”Of course. I’ll see you on Monday.”

The second the dial tone sounded, (Y/N) crashed onto the couch, sighing as Sergio climbed onto her. She ran her hands over his fur, allowing the purring to unwrench the coil of anger that was tightening in her chest. It was just another missed promise, another day where work was more important than their little family. And she couldn’t help but wonder just how much longer she could withstand being a family of one.

Once upon a time, all (Y/N) had wanted was to spend the rest of her days with Emily. Then she had died, and (Y/N) thought she’d never find anyone to love like she had loved Emily. Only for the love of her life to rise up from the dead and settle back into her life like she had never been gone. It was as though the distance had not made any difference. Emily’s job came first, and everything else, including her own life, came second. And the woman didn’t know how much more she could take.

There was only so much cleaning (Y/N) could do to pass the time. Only so many garlands she could decorate without touching the tree. Only so many songs she could play to forget just how empty the apartment was. She couldn’t even go to work as she had taken the week off to be with Emily. And there she was, no girlfriend and all the time in the world.

“I don’t know what to do, Jess,” she told her friend that Monday morning when Emily hadn’t come home. “I thought this was the person I was going to marry. But after everything that’s happened… I don’t know what to do. And I’m trying. I’ve been trying for the longest time.”

“Have to talked to Emily about this, (Y/N)?” her friend asked before taking a sip of her coffee. “Since she came back from everything that happened last year, have you actually sat down and talked about how you felt during that time?”

“Well, not exactly,” she shrugged. “It’s just… I know why she couldn’t tell me that she was alive. Telling me would have put me in danger. And I know her job is really important and that she has to be away a lot. But I just wanted to spend some time with her this Christmas. Try to make up for all the time we lost.”

“Honey, if you don’t work through what happened before, how do you expect to be good now?” Jess stopped for a beat, setting her mug down and taking her friend’s hand. “Can I be honest about something, and you won’t get pissed at me?”

“Why do I get the feeling that I won’t like what you’re gonna say?”

“Because there’s a very likely chance that you’re not gonna like it.”

“Just say it,” she gave up. “If it’s something you think I need to hear, then go ahead.”

“I think you’ve been too understanding in this relationship,” the woman said. “I know that Emily’s job is very hard and that it requires a lot of her attention. But I also feel like there are times when you have to come first, (Y/N). And I know you don’t want her to think that you’re making her choose between you and her work, but you need to have your needs met. You need to tell her how you’re feeling regardless of how she’ll react.”

“I don’t know how to do that, Jess. Her job is literally saving people. How can I tell her that I want her to save people less and be with me more?”

“You know she’s not the only one on that team, right?” her friend continued. “The world is not gonna end just because Emily took a couple of days off. There will still be bad guys, and there will still be people to catch them. I mean, she disappeared for seven months, and the team kept working.”

“But she loves that job.”

“She should love you more, (Y/N),” Jess insisted, squeezing her friend’s hand comfortingly. “If not… honey, I’m sorry, but that’s not the person you should start a family with.”

“This is crazy!” (Y/N) sighed loudly. “This is not the way I should be thinking during the holidays. I love her so much, Jess. I can’t lose her again.”

“Then talk to her,” her friend pressed. “That’s the only way things can get better.”

As morning turned to night, Jess’ words kept swirling inside (Y/N)’s head. The last thing she wanted to think of was breaking up with Emily days before Christmas and only a few days before they hosted a holiday dinner in their place. She was terrified that saying what she felt would break them apart, and she’d actually lose her girlfriend forever. She wanted to spend the rest of her life by Emily’s side, but she understood she couldn’t do it at her own expense.

The hours passed, and (Y/N)’s disillusionment turned into anger. The bare tree mocked her presence as it reminded her of the reason it was still unadorned. Its branches shuddered under the A/C, needles of pine sprinkling onto the floor as the tree reminded her how much time had passed since it had been resting in their living room. She wanted to tear it down, to tear everything she had decorated down. She wanted Emily to see how angry she was the second she walked through the door.

Instead, she turned off all the lights and went to bed, with the tree still naked and no Emily.

The next morning, she awoke to the loud pang of a pan, and her heart sank. She remembered locking the door and checking it three times before going to the bedroom. Whoever it was outside had definitely broken in.

(Y/N) took Sergio into her arms, using a hand to dial 911 as soon as she confirmed there was someone in the apartment and it hadn’t just been a pan she had left too close to the edge. Slowly, she peeked her head out of the door, making sure there was no one on the second floor before quietly making it down the top couple of stairs. She knelt on the ground and looked to the kitchen to find something she had not expected.

Emily was trying her best to make breakfast quietly. A task she was failing immensely. She had her back turned to (Y/N), and that gave the woman the advantage to walk down the stairs without being noticed.

“So, you’re home,” she said, clearing her throat, making Emily jump and drop the pan on the stove. “A whole day late.”

“I know, sweetheart,” Emily started as she turned to face her girlfriend. “We got stuck in Washington and couldn’t get the plane out until very early in the morning.”

“And did your phone stop working, too? ‘Cause I didn’t even get a simple text.”

“Honey, I’m sorry. I was exhausted, and I forgot to call you last night. We spent so many late nights on this case, and it finally caught up to me. Can you forgive me?”

With a sigh, (Y/N) found herself falling into the same pattern. “It’s fine,” she said as she let Sergio down. “Let’s just eat breakfast so we can finally decorate the tree. We have the party on Friday, and there’s so much to do.”

The couple ate in silence, pushing their food around on their plates rather than enjoying the meal. The air around them was tense, filled with unspoken words and frustrations. But, as always, it was easier to move past it rather than talk about it because (Y/N) always understood.

Still drenched in silence, (Y/N) dragged the boxes of ornaments from the corner of the living room to the tree. She pulled the lids off the containers and started decorating without saying anything else. And Emily followed suit, working around her to help but keeping out of her way.

“Why don’t I put on some music?”

“Sure,” (Y/N) shrugged. “Whatever you want.”

“O~kay,” she said, connecting her phone to the speakers. “Actually, I just remembered there’s something I got for us.” Emily pulled a box from her purse, handing it to (Y/N) with a bright smile on her face. “I got it before leaving Washington, and I thought you’d like it.”

From the box, (Y/N) pulled a snow globe ornament with a lit-up Christmas tree inside, the tiny specs of white making the entire scene look like a winter wonderland. And where she would normally love a present like that, that specific morning, it felt like a slap to the face.

“Thanks,” the woman said. “It’s pretty.”

“It’s the first ornament of our new place, baby,” Emily cooed. “It even has the year engraved under it.”

“Yeah, I see. It’s… yeah, it’s great.”

“Is everything okay, (Y/N)? I feel like you’re somewhere else today.”

“I’m fine,” she shrugged. “Just fine.”

Emily wouldn’t have had the kind of job she did if she didn’t know how to read people’s emotions. She could tell (Y/N) was holding something in. Her shoulders were tight, and her expression was stoic. But it was her eyes that she could see held the most pain. They didn’t have their usual glimmer, and she knew it was her fault. “Tell me what’s wrong, baby,” she pleaded, tentatively closing the distance between them. “I know there’s something wrong.”

“I don’t wanna fight today, Emily,” (Y/N) sighed as she took a step back. “I just wanna finish what we have to do and move on from this.”

“Who said anything about fighting? I just want us to talk, (Y/N). You’re angry and upset, and I want to resolve things.”

(Y/N) slammed the ornament onto the couch, placing her hands on her hips and turning around as she took steadying breaths. She knew if she kept looking into Emily’s eyes, she’d simply break down before she could get a single word out. “You wanna know what’s going on? Fine. I’m mad, Emily,” she started. “I asked you –begged– for one week of your life, and you decided to take another case. You were gone for seven months, and all I wanted was one week.”

“Is that what this is about? I thought we were over that.”

“Over it? We haven’t even talked about it, Emily!” she exclaimed. “You were dead for seven fucking months! I grieved for you. I had to get used to being without you. I had to plan the rest of my life without you. And then you walked back in like nothing had happened. But something did! You died. I buried you. I lived without you. While you were in Europe, people here had to get accustomed to you not being here. And after all that pain and suffering, you came back. “I wanted to be fine with it, Em. I really did,” she sighed, feeling tears fall from her eyes. “But you just picked up where we left off, and I had to change an entire mindset that had been ingrained into my mind. For you, it was business as usual. You went to work, you took your cases, you were good. Meanwhile, I had to get used to waking up next to you and not thinking I was hallucinating or dreaming. I had to go back to worrying if your next case was the one that would take you from me. I had to be fine with you putting your job first and hope that one day you had any time left for me.”

“(Y/N)...”

“No, Em, you have to listen to me first. I need to get all of this out of my chest before I explode,” (Y/N) cried. “From the moment I entered this relationship, I understood what I was getting into. Your job… it’s one of the most important ones out there. So, I bit my tongue, and I said I was fine with canceled plans and broken promises because it was all for the greater good. But when you died, it put everything in perspective. I couldn’t stop thinking of all the moments we had missed because of your work and all the moments we were never gonna have. And I don’t know if I can go back to that. Because I love you, Emily. I love you like I haven’t loved anyone before, and I want to build a family with you. But if the work-life balance is not something you can do, I don’t know how we could build anything together.”

(Y/N) crumpled to the ground as she felt the weight of her emotions take over her. Her shoulders slumped forward, and her chest heaved, and the tears streamed from her eyes faster than she could stop them. As Emily remained quiet, she thought that was it. That was the moment that would break them. Three months before, she was still wondering how she would spend the holidays without Emily. And now, it seemed her fear had come true, even if her girlfriend was standing right before her.

But, suddenly, (Y/N) was enveloped in arms and warmth. “I’m so sorry, (Y/N),” Emily whispered against her hair. “I never… why didn’t you tell me? I never wanted you to feel like my work was more important than you–than us. I can’t even begin to imagine what you went through when I was in hiding, and I’m sorry that you had to go through all of that without me. But I want you to know that if I had been able to take you with me, I would have. Because at the end of the day, once the job is gone and all those responsibilities are put to rest, you are the only thing that I want in my life to be there still. I want the family. I want the future. I want everything with you. (Y/N).”

“It doesn’t feel that way most of the time, Em,” (Y/N) breathed as she leaned into Emily’s touch. As much as she had put space between them, she couldn’t help herself from sinking into her. “We moved in here only two months ago, and I think you’ve slept here a handful of times. All I asked was for you to take this one week so we could find our center again, and you took a case that you didn’t need to. It was a choice you made, Emily. Your days had been approved already, and you still took an out-of-state case. So, I think you can see how I would feel like you care about the BAU more than your own girlfriend.”

Emily’s arms wrapped tighter around (Y/N), her own tears falling and staining the fabric of her girlfriend’s shirt. “God, I know. I’m so sorry, baby,” she sobbed. “I just… I guess I’ve been trying to make things feel like they did before, and it seems my way was to throw myself into work. I never wanted to make you feel like I didn’t value you because you’re the only thing in my life that I want to hold onto until the day I die. I’m sorry, baby. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sor…”

(Y/N) swallowed her words as she turned and crashed her lip onto Emily’s. She kissed her until her worries melted away. She kissed her with all the love and passion they had been lacking for months. She kissed her until they both understood their love for each other was the one thing that remained intact.

It wasn’t until Sergio jumped onto their laps that they finally released each other, chuckling as the cat meowed for attention. (Y/N) traced Emily’s lips with a smile, finally allowing herself to stare into the woman’s eyes. She caressed the skin of her cheeks, smoothing every worry line that had painted her face. She kissed her forehead, then her cheeks, her nose, her jaw, and finally her lips. Because she was there. And she was alive.

“I promise things will be different,” Emily whispered as she rested her forehead against her girlfriend’s. “I’ll take another week off. Hell, I’ll take a whole month off if you want. But I want you to know just how much I love and care about you, (Y/N). And I’ll do anything to prove it.”

“Wait here,” (Y/N) said as she got up from the floor and ran to her bag by the door. She rummaged for the red velvet box that had been inside for an entire week before March 7th, and she had kept it as a reminder of the woman she loved and would never get to wear it. But she was there now, and there was no better promise than what was inside. She ran back to where Emily sat with Sergio, taking her spot once more. “Do you mean it? Do you really mean anything?”

“Of course, baby. I love you.”

“Then, marry me,” (Y/N) said as she opened the box to reveal the ring she had carried for seven months on a chain and had put it back in the box when Emily came back. “I love you, Em. And I want everything with you. I want a house and a family. And I wanna grow old and wrinkly with you by my side. So, Emily Prentiss, will you marry me?”

“Yes! God, a thousand times yes,” she exclaimed as she crashed her lips onto hers one more. “And, well, I guess there’s no point in waiting until Christmas,” Emily chuckled as she stuck her hand under the couch cushion to pull out a similar blue velvet box. “(Y/N) (Y/L/N), will you marry me? Because I don’t want to ever know life without you. Not now, not ever.”

“How could you steal my idea?” (Y/N) chuckled. “I’ve been wanting to ask you this since the start of the year.”

“Would you believe me if I told you I bought this ring after our third date?” the woman smiled. “And I’ve been carrying it around for almost two years now. I wish I would have given it to you so long ago. But no better time than now. Will you marry me?”

“Can’t believe you have to ask. Of course, I will.”

With matching smiles on their faces, they each slipped a ring onto the other’s finger and took the other in their arms. There, in front of their half-decorated tree and their cat, Sergio, they professed their love for one another and cemented their most important promise yet. They were in love, and that, (Y/N) understood.

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