#the way she was taught by her own mother that self-reflection is not only useless but ACTIVELY HARMFUL | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

burnedbyshoto · 4 years

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good little omega

— He was an alpha, you were an omega. Can I make it anymore obvious? He was a crime boss and you were a movie star. What more can I say? Oh, he wanted you, really wanted you, but you swore you would never, ever need an alpha.

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pairing: alpha!shigaraki tomura x omega fem!reader

warnings: 18+, smut, abo/omegaverse, chad alpha!shiggy, virgin celeb!reader, kidnapping, drugging, sex slave auction, biting/marking, belly bulge, knotting, sex toys, heat, implied murder (lol rip shigsters last omegas), mind break, breeding, degradation, finger fucking, fucking in front of a crowd, modern world!au

word count: 6,174

a/n: this goes out to my shiggy stans. I never understood you until recently and now I blush like a schoolgirl when I see him. mondays are so busy, are they not? ive been home for 6 hours today wtf????

kinktober day 12 main kink: abo/omegaverse | kinktober masterlist

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You sat before the mirror, your eyes intently staring at your reflection. The people around you running around, chaotically bringing brushes and pencils to your face, the smell of chemicals in the air, tickling your overly sensitive nose.

“Are we ready?! Is Y/n ready?! I don’t think she’s ready?! We need to be out of here in five minutes, people, let’s hurry it up!”

Breaking your gaze from your reflection onto your agent in the background, you sighed softly at the growing sour and distressed omega pheromones. Oh, you realized suddenly, your nose unable to keep from scrunching at the mildewy detergent scent, they were really stressed out.

Today was the night of the biggest award show one could attend as a movie star celebrity in Japan. The Motion Picture Awards gave only the most prestigious and prodigious actors and actresses their due. A night of fashion, alcohol, and nervous pheromone pumping alphas and betas in a single room to reveal who was the best this year. Working in an industry such as your own, you had become quite the living legend already at the mere age of twenty-two.

As an omega, you grew up in a society that banned you from enlisting or attempting to join the ranks of the best in just about every field of focus or study. So that even included the area of acting. Casting Directors had always said the same thing each and every time you were forced to present your secondary gender to them all when being called back for auditions.

‘Omegas can’t be movie stars, your heats are too often and too long, they cause rifts in filming schedules this project cannot afford.’

‘We have too many prime alphas on set. Our film's projected main character is an alpha, we wouldn’t want to be caught up in a lawsuit should she find you to be too… fertile.’

‘Omegas can only be good, suitable nurtures and well, mothers. This movie just seems a bit too intense for a little omega like you!’

Omegas can’t do this, omegas can’t do that. Alphas, the pride of society, couldn’t be made to hold themselves back to your alluring scent and occasional heats. Betas, the majority of the population, didn’t feel a challenge when working alongside omegas. Omegas? Well, if there were any that actually existed within the film industry, they were for sure never heard from, or seen of.

At the age of eighteen, you had nearly given up on your long aspiring desire to become the first omega actor or actress to ever grace the scene. But just as you were ready to tell your agent that you were tired of all of the same, repetitive bullshit, a gentle alpha had approached you with an exciting role in mind for you.

Movies and cinematic films had always showcased omegas as sweet, nurturing individuals. For the most part, you agreed that that’s how you omegas were. You enjoyed hugging your close friends, scenting them softly as means of a small pack you had created as none of you were mated this young, yet didn’t ever wish to be bothered by self-righteous alphas or betas. Through many, many biology courses revolving around your secondary gender, you knew that the hormones that made you an omega also affected the brain to accept and view things in a… softer light. But unlike what they taught in school, and unlike what the alphas in society knew about omegas as they could never honestly watch an omega in heat while alone, was that omegas weren’t always the most nurturing or kind.

The week before your heat, the week of, and the week following your heat, you were always irritable, angry, almost cold. You’d flash your small fangs at anyone who dared to approach you with a scent you hated, your heat room never once escaping with everything torn to shreds, and you definitely did not wish to seek any fiber of soft love.

So when the alpha male sat in front of you, a single fang poking out of his lip as he exposed his neck in a motion of vulnerability and conceding to you — the omega — you knew he was serious.

He explained to you his plan on creating a more realistic movie surrounding the brutal truths of what being a single omega was like. Films had, after all, had always depicted omegas as being mated the moment they presented and going as far as saying that there were others means to be coupled to other alphas without actually being marked. It was atrociously wrong of the omega lifestyle, and it always made your stomach curl to see that it was an alpha or a beta actor putting on the role.

But he wanted to focus on the realities. The anger, sadness, and horrors you could face as a single, unmated omega. The director raved that you were the face for that movie and had a soul that made him come seek you out. And without so much as consultation from your agent, you agreed on the spot.

The title of the film had been an ironic one. Good Little Omega was what it was called in the end.

All in all, the movie had done poorly in the eyes of the critics. Many individuals — namely alphas and betas — claimed that the depiction of omegas within the film had been horribly wrong. Omegas were never sad, never homeless, never abandoned by society! That’s what they had all cried the moment the trailer flashed with bright letters:

AND INTRODUCING: Y/L/N Y/N (Ω)

Still, the movie made billions as many went to watch it because they ‘needed to see how horrible the movie was.’ They wanted proof that omegas weren’t cut as movie stars because how could someone who was out of commission for a week every two months be proactive on set. But all they got was a cinematic masterpiece.

You had taken a claim in the industry, one while small, that hadn’t hurt that much because you were much more focused on the fact that you now were a household name. Well, that is until you were nominated for the awards ceremony you were currently about to attend, only that it was the one from four years ago.

You were the first omega actress and now the first omega nominee. You hadn’t won, but that had solidified the step you had in the door. After that, the interests to hire you in omega roles came pouring through the door.

But you were brought back to reality when the setting spray splashed against your face, your eyes fluttering when they covered your scent glands with the flesh-colored band-aids they got for you. Alphas could never complain about you being a distraction if you smelled the same as betas.

Rising to your feet, you smiled graciously to your makeup and styling team, thanking them profusely as your agent placed her hand at the small of your back and began pushing you towards the exit.

“Goodluck!”

“Thank you!”

Shigaraki glared down the table of averted eyes, and his hands brought up under his chin twitched at his annoyance.

“Are you going to say anything, or are we going to remain silent?” he asked, his voice quiet yet heavy in all of their ears as they flinched. “Don’t think you’re going to get away without giving me an answer.”

The sour smell of fearful alphas should have corroded Shigaraki’s nose. It should have done something to unsettle the way that the young head sat on his black leather seat. But as a matter of fact, the young alpha had to resist the way he wanted to bare his teeth in a bloodied smile, his red eyes slit in his cruel lust for fear.

“O-Of course not, a-alpha!” croaked one of the smaller alphas down the table. Shigaraki snapped his eyes towards the yellow-haired croony, his neck exposed for the alpha, eyes refusing to look at his leader. “I-It’s just that, um, I — I mean, we don't know w-what happened to your mate!”

“I thought I gave clear and distinct instructions that you were supposed to have found them by this meeting,” Shigaraki stated, his voice somehow growing colder, meaner yet never once changing as his hands dropped from his chin to rest on the arms of his chair. He tilted his head, watching the pathetic alphas quiver like some scared, stupid omega. “Useless. Get out of here before I change my mind on killing you all where you sit.”

The crowd of alphas left quicker than Shigaraki could blink, leaving behind the reeking smell of scared alpha pheromones.

“Tomura-kun, you killed your mate,” came the singsong giggle from behind him, and Shigaraki didn’t bother turning around, his nose and ears sharp enough to pick up exactly it was behind him.

“They’re all a bunch of pissy lackeys,” Shigaraki simply stated, his eyes rolling as he slowly fell to the back of his chair, red eyes meeting golden ones that shone with mirth and joy. “What do you want, Toga?”

Toga leaned against the leather armrest, uncaring that Shigaraki hated his personal space invaded. The young female was an alpha, much like most of the people within this gang group, but unlike the others, she had a distinct, almost terrifying way to change the way she smelled. She could smell like anyone or any secondary gender. She often preferred to smell like an omega too.

“We have a guest visiting us today!” Toga chirped, her fingers clasping together. “I wanted to introduce him!”

“Bring Giran in,” Shigaraki snapped, his eyes narrowing with no real malice for the alpha next to him who simply pouted at the surprise — not a surprise — being ruined. Giran reeked of cigarettes and cheap body sprays that, when wafted with his distinct omega pheromones, made Shigaraki want to throw up. “Hurry up.”

“UGH!”

Shigaraki’s mouth was set in a firm line, his eyes watching as one of his most trusted allies walked to the table, and taking a seat in the abandoned chairs as Toga purred in happiness, sitting on the armchair of Giran’s chair, arms enveloping him.

“Shigaraki, how are you doing?” Giran smiled, the cigarette that seemed to take a permanent residence in his teeth moving with his words. “I came bearing some great news.”

“What do you have for me?” Shigaraki simply states, his eyes focusing on the letter that is unpocketed from Giran’s pockets and placed onto the table. “Don’t tell me you’re trying to sell me your omega niece again.”

Giran chuckled, looking at Toga, who was smirking softly, “I guess he still hates that joke, huh?”

“Absolutely livid!” Toga laughed.

Shigaraki growled, his mind and his inner alpha snarling at the lack of respect to the command of his question. He outranked them, outpowered them; they needed to respect his orders.

Giran took a deep inhale of his cigarette, sliding the card over to Shigaraki, his eyes averted, but his stance still firm. “I know you go through omegas faster than a teenage boy goes through a pack of tissues, but I think this can answer the pleas you have at night.”

Observing the card in his hand, Shigaraki scowls, unsure of how to feel about the print on the invitation.

“Say the word, and I’ll get you a seat,” Giran whispers, like a sinister god begging a mere mortal to sign over their life for something completely worthless. But Shigaraki knows his worth, and more importantly, he knows in this game he outranks Giran, who would never betray him. In the slightest. He huffs, his back hunched, and his eyes looking with subdued excitement.

“Who else is showing up?”

Giran knows the seat will be wanted that instant.

“No one who could hold a candle to you, alpha.”

“Don’t make me regret this.”

“Of course not, my liege.”

The award sitting in your hand feels almost fake as if the entire night was nothing more than a heat-driven fever dream. You had won, had actually won the most significant award of the night that an actress could win!

“Oh my gods, okay, okay,” your agent muttered beside you. Her eyes glued to the shiny gold statue between your legs. “Well, I know your heat starts tomorrow, and I’ll leave you alone for a week. But I swear, y/n, as soon as your mind isn’t a full-blown lusty heat brained bimbo, we’ll reconvene, and we will make sure you are nothing but the greatest!”

“Yeah,” you breathlessly state, eyes transfixed on the prize that felt like it could melt away any second right now. “That sounds wonderful.”

The car you were in pulled up to your front door, and you felt meek excited the car in nothing but a silk robe and slippers. The dress you had worn that night had already been put back into a plastic bag to be returned to the stylist who had offered to style you for the night. You waved with an almost transfixed look in your eyes as you closed your front door behind you, your heart hammering as adrenaline still coursed through your veins as if you had just been declared the victor of the category yet again.

Placing the trophy onto the table, you sighed in a wondrous, dreamy way.

You had done it.

You had won.

Fuck all those directors who had ever said anything different.

Still deep in your thoughts, you almost missed the knock on your door, and you figured that you must have left something in the car. Walking back over to the front door, your nose curled at the lack of scent, was it a beta?

Opening the door, you don’t remember seeing faces or even a scent of a pheromone. A single cloth wrapped over your head, and before you could send out your painful, fearful moments-from-heat omega pheromones, you were knocked out.

Cold and lifeless, you sunk against their arms, bile rising up to your throat as you know exactly what was going on. You were being kidnapped.

No… please not… not after all of this had happened.

You wake up to the sound of moving feet, sneering laughter, the feeling of coarse, hot, hands on your ass and wet, simmering tongues on your lubricated cunt. The sense is vivid. You can feel the very littlest touch on your body, the layer of scented pheromones on your glands, and slick from alphas — you know it's alphas imprinting themselves on you as a mark of a claim.

You knew about this from high school; it was an extremely outdated and frowned upon version of mating and claiming as it simply turned away any sort of pursuer who wasn’t the thick pheromone individual. You also knew it was frowned upon because if multiple individuals sought mateship with the typical omega individual, it would result in a massive, unsolvable death match. But these alphas, even with layering their scent on you so thick you thought you were turning crazy, didn’t attack. No, they took languid stripes of your fresh, intoxicating slick and growled to you, maybe, how that was how slick was supposed to be.

You wanted to move, to kick the stupid, demeaning alphas in the snout before running away, but in a twist of horrible realization, you soon figured out that despite your alert mind, you couldn’t move your body. Couldn’t shift it even the smallest of bits.

“I hope all you wonderful clients have been able to taste and smell your potential mates out here!” A loud, commanding introduction voice echoed from somewhere where you couldn’t see, his voice vibrating into the straps of your legs, but you couldn’t make a sound or even open your eyes. “As you know, we have such an arrangement for you all, the best of the best, really! We don’t wish to rush, but as always, all of these events are incredibly time-sensitive, so if you would, please alphas, please come and sit down, and we’ll begin bidding on our first of seven beautiful, fertile omegas tonight!”

The words sounded foreign in your ears yet at the same time, something so familiar because this was something you omegas were always warned about. This had to be some sort of omega mate auction, and by the stench of alphas who smelled like they owned millions and killed millions, you were in no doubt somehow caught up in one of the worst ones imagined.

Two long, completely hardened fingers suddenly entered your cunt, and as if for a single millisecond, your mind and your body were able to work in tangent, your hips bucked at the sweet feelings. Oh, your eyes tried to flutter, enjoying the way the two fingers circled the walls of your long lonely cunt.

“Please, alpha, please refrain from touching the merchandise for now, please join us so that we may begin!”

The two fingers buried within your cunt as if it was their right, slowly withdrew out of your pulsing walls, and you heard the sound of sneakers against the hardwood floor and felt relaxed and sickened at how you sort of liked it.

Heat brain, you reminded yourself. Just your stupid, horny heat brain.

You were a celebrity, you mantra, a dignified star who didn’t need a beta or an alpha unless you saw it fit. Right now, as you had repeated many times to the countless amounts of reporters who had asked, you had no interest in someone to share your heat with.

“Alright, and to start off our night in a rolling go! Please, everyone put your hands together for the fertile and beautiful thirteenth in-line the Princess of Cabodia: Dayanara!”

This auction was insane, all six omegas before you all sold from a price that ranged from 198 hundred million to the one right before you who sold for one billion dollars. You were a prideful omega, and you saw worth to your abilities, smell, and looks, but were you even worth anywhere in that range?

The entire time you had been set up in who knows what, the small, overwhelming pound of your heat sinking into the depths and pores of your body was becoming heavy. You couldn’t move a single muscle still, your body still refusing to respond to the call of your body, but the seep of your slick running down the innards of your thighs, undoubtedly beginning to pool on the ground, must be embarrassing of you.

Suddenly someone spread the skin below your ass out, and you couldn’t react as something sharp and prick stabbed into your flesh. You howled in the surprising pain, and you were fast to find that whatever they had injected you with had allowed systematic movement within your body. Your eyes fluttered open as two, impossibly huge alphas grabbed you by your forearm and hoisted you to your feet.

Your neck was far too weak to carry the weight of your head, so your eyes were transfixed on the white silk of the slutty dress they dressed you in. It showed off your cleavage with no regret, and by the feel and look of it, it barely passed the bottom of your ass. Your vision swam, the alphas all over the room distorted and melting within one another as you stepped onto a stage, the spotlight on you feeling deliriously hot and melting your skin.

Your hormones, already going crazy with your heat, seemed to intensify at the small of so many capable, potent, possessive alpha pheromones that suffocated the room. Handcuffs slapped onto your wrists, and you moaned pathetically at the sting of cold metal on your skin, and you obediently followed the command of one alpha to go on your knees.

A nail slammed between the metal links of the handcuffs, practically stapling you to the wooden floor, and you whimpered at the feeling of a stuffed pillow mount being placed beneath your lower stomach. You were in a forced and easily accessible mating position with your slick and cunt exposed for all the alphas to re-smell and see.

Moaning, you shifted against the mount, your body not able to have the full movement you needed to ward off that building, insufferable heat in your core, but nothing you could do seemed to satisfy it.

“And for our biggest prize of the night, we have the one, the only, the beautiful sensation Y/l/n Y/n!” the auctioneer roared. His voice echoing in your ear as he walked over to you, exposing your dripping cunt to the crowd of alphas who had all gotten a sweet taste of your essence already. His hand came down to slap your ass with a chuckle. “Where do we start the bidding on this one, alphas? She needs no introduction, and none of you better be pussies because we know this bitch of an omega won’t take any tiny cocks as her alpha! She needs to be broken in, fucked to submission. No one likes a trailblazer… someone needs to remind of what fucking trail she’s supposed to be on. Besides, the bitch is in fucking heat, and if you don’t claim her, I just might do it myself!”

“75 million!” someone started the bidding.

You stiffened.

“75 to the man in the back!”

“90 million!” someone challenged.

“We’re up to 90!”

“125 million!”

“Do I hear another offer?”

“250 million!”

The number climbed and climbed, the same voices coming to challenge each other until finally, they rounded out to a quantity that sounded bizarre even to you.

“950 million!”

If it had been possible for your knees to give out, you would have been collapsed onto the floor, the pool of slick that continued to lubricate your cunt without a doubt drowning you as you craved the need to be fucked by someone with undoubted alpha pheromones and cock in this room.

“950 million?” the auctioneer repeated, his voice for sure carrying a shark-like grin. “Going once, going twice—”

“Five billion.”

The gasp in the crowd was undeniable, and the omega in you crooned, knowing that this alpha valued you and your omega to be the price of five billion US dollars.

“Fuck!” screamed the man who had presented the 950 million deal.

“Wowee, five billion dollars, everyone! Anyone think they can beat that?! Going once! Going twice!” The crowd remained in silence, and you shook against your restraint, the heat emitting from your cunt almost demanding to be seen and fucked through this heat week. “SOLD! The virgin celebrity, Y/l/n Y/n sold to our own Shigaraki Tomura!”

The cheers of amaze weren’t nearly as loud as the smell of reeking petty alpha.

“Come and pay up, alpha, and then you can show us… a demonstration of how you’re going to break this omega.”

“Shut up.” Shigaraku growled, his footsteps heavy in your ear as you feel him climb up the stage, and you weakly tilted your head to look at the white-haired alpha boss hand over a simple credit card before walking over to you, his eyes unreadable as he looked you dead in the eye.

He reached out a finger that raised your chin up for him to study your face, moving and tilting your head as he pleased as a small, sinister smile pressed to his lips as he dropped your head. A sharp, uncomfortable pain fell on your chin as it crashed to the floor, and you shivered at the feeling of his calloused and rough fingers running down your exposed back.

“You’re such a small omega, still stupidly tiny. I bet you’ve never thought your first knot would come from someone like me,” Shigaraki laughed, his fingers and voice ice cold. His words were soft, spoken in a way that had your omega stupidly cooing for having secret conversations with your alpha who promised to fuck you till you were carrying a litter of pups. “I hope you realize that this is real life, that I will break you, and no hero in this world will be able to fucking save you.”

“Fuck the omega!” someone from the crowd screamed, and Shigaraki glared upwards. Still, you shivered in the thought of this alpha who spent five billion dollars to make you his claiming you, fucking your stupid heat brain into mush in front of these smaller, irrelevant alphas.

“I’ll do what I fucking please,” Shigaraki snapped, but the fingers you remembered to have been the last ones to enter your slicked crazy walls seemed to be his. They moved deep within you, curling and spreading your tight, sopping wet cavern apart, letting your pathetic, chirping cries echo powerfully in the room as lusting, near rutting alpha pheromones filled the room. “For fucks sake, omega, your pussy’s fucking tight as shit! Don’t you have any real knotted toys?”

You couldn’t respond back, your body on the road to a complete shut down at the feeling of something other than silicone deep within your body, fingering and dragging against your pheromone soaked walls.

“Alpha, y-your fingers feel so good!” you gasp, your hips thrusting backward, enjoying the way his fingernails press onto your warm velvet walls. “So good, you make me feel so good already.”

“I’ve seen you all over the news,” Shigaraki growled low into your ear. “Talking about how you didn’t want an alpha, how you never needed to feel the tightness that a fat knot could bring you, and look at you now. I’ve barely touched you, barely begun to make you mine, and yet you’re already begging for me, omega.”

Your arms tug at the handcuffs, pathetically wanting them off. Exasperatedly seeking more friction from your newly bought alpha. You can’t think straight, can’t come up with a single response except the stupid apologetic, “I’m so sorry alpha, I didn’t know i-it would be y-you!”

“Don’t be shy on her, Shigaraki! Fuck the slutty omega already! Fucking knot and claim her in front of us, I want to hear the omega whore scream. It’s always hotter when it’s the first claim ever!”

“You better learn how to shut the fuck up, or I’ll kill you for interrupting my fucking session here,” Shigaraki seethed, his red, smoldering eyes ripping from yours and glaring at some loser alpha behind you. You couldn’t care. You only wanted what looked like the growing cock in Shigaraki’s pants; you wanted to feel the cock fill up your cunt, and his knot to lock you both in place.

You drooled at the thought, your loud, whimpering cries unable to keep from pouring out as the slick from your core seemed to pour endlessly from your pussy, demanding attention and a knot. “Breed me, fill me with your pups,” you begged fingers taking in his dirty fingers in your mouth, tongue wildly and uncontrollably flicking across his fingers in hopes it would be a sinking prayer of your promise to be good. “I want your knot, alpha, I want these stupid alphas to know you’re so much better than them~!”

Shigaraki’s once snarl fell when he looked at you, a slowly growing smirk falling on his face as his lips spread into a cruel smirk, one that had you moaning around his fingers as he pinched the pink muscle in your mouth before disappearing before you.

“I smelled your distress when I put my fingers up your sloppy little cunt right before the auction happened; I could tell even with your growing heat that you hated the feeling of my fingers up your pretty pussy. But look at you now, I haven’t even set you on my goddamn knot, haven’t stretched that tiny cunt to its max. You’re smelling better than a bitch in heat,” Shigaraki growled in your ear. His clothed chest pressing deliriously into your exposed back, the huge cock outline in his pants grinding incessantly into your wet core, undoubtedly leaving a damp patch where his cock ground into you. “You’re an actress, aren’t you, little omega? I bet you just needed this audience cheering your name to break your mind over this. How. Pathetic.”

And the pressure on your tongue is gone, the drool and saliva sticky and cold on your chin as you whimper for your alpha. You promised that it wasn’t right, it was just that you had been scared before, but your alpha was so strong, his pheromones so scary and mean, he could protect you and fill you up with so many pups you couldn’t help but to be excited now.

The smell of Shigaraki seemed to brighten, and you moaned when his hands pressed the white dress up, allowing for your naked ass to be seen by him and everyone who stayed to watch. Shigaraki squeezed your asscheeks away, chuckling at the way your small asshole clenched in your embarrassment and pain at how your hormone-driven heat demanded that he fuck you and knot you now.

“So fucking wet,” Shigaraki observed, his fingertips tracing the slick on your folds before a small pop told you that he licked you clean from his fingers. “Such sweet slick too, you really are a prime omega, little one.”

You whimpered, ass shaking for him to continue to touch you, to continue to fuck you more.

“I don’t think you’re ready for my knot, precious omega,” Shigaraki taunted, and his words were a sealing deal in your lusting mind. Your hips knocking backward in some sort of desperation for more.

“She won’t,” commented the auctioneer.

“I will!” you scream, eyes filled with painful tears that could only be resolved with your alphas knot and claim. “I can take your knot, alpha!”

Shigaraki makes a small noise, and you choke at the feeling of something huge, nearly monstrous, shift into your cunt. You were a virgin, but even you knew that it was merely the head of his alpha thick cock, not enough for you to be satisfied, not far enough in you to breed or fuck you properly. All the moans in your throat were slightly painful, and the tears in your eyes continued to fall as you rocked your hips backward, trying to sink yourself further on his cock, wanting him deep in your womb.

You craved him.

“Ah, good, you can take more,” came the airy, almost insane driven coo of Shigaraki, the lack of humor making your cunt flutter against his thick, long cock. “Cry for your alpha, little omega.”

With that, Shigaraki slammed into you with no mercy, his cock bottoming out into you with a powerful, edging thrust. You screamed in pain, tears leaking from your eyes, and even with the pool of lubricating slick, his cock was far too big, incredibly thick that you felt your inner walls splitting in two as he fucked you as if you weren’t in delirious pain.

Drool and tears covered your arms, your painted fingers digging into the floorboards with crazy strength that you clawed scars on the floor as Shigaraki rutted deep within you.

Shigaraki commanded you with every thrust he gave, and soon the omega in you was cooing, howling for more, the pain of having your virginity ripped from right under you having become bubbling, glowing pleasure. You screamed in pleasure, Shigaraki grabbing onto your rolling hips to slam you back onto his cock, allowing for his thick cock to hit deep within you over and over again. The angle and power he possessed with every thrust were almost inhumane, nothing your lonely heat filled nights could ever dream of recreating ever. Shrill moans and pleas drowned out the annoying commentary of your onlookers, Shigaraki’s chest still flushed against your back, his hips landing heavily on your ass that was at this point raised because of the mount beneath you.

“My alpha,” you babble, eyes unfocused, hazy, and incredibly heavy as you stared at some point on the wall, overwhelmed with the feeling of Shigaraki’s hot cock pounding in you. “My alpha, such a good alpha. His cock is making my tummy feel funny, making my pussy feel so tight. Please fill me with your children, I’ll be a good omega to you and them, I promise! I promise — I — oh myyy goddd — I promise, alpha!!!”

Shigaraki puffs up with the praise, but he continued to fuck into you roughly, mercilessly, as if you were nothing more than the breeding whore omega that he had purchased you for. The wet slaps and satisfying squelches rang in the blazing heat room, the smell of the pleasured and heat insane omega saturating deeply within his nose, and in the other's nose, the prideful smell of a satisfied alpha.

Your spongy walls clenched and spasmed against his penetrating, pounding cock, sometimes even forcibly because, by god, it was hot when his cock would twitch within your womb, especially against your cervix.

“Fuck, you’re so damn annoying,” Shigaraki snarled into your ear, his teeth biting and scraping along your neck, and you wailed when his teeth dragged over the sweet scent gland on your neck. The one and only place for mating bites to go. His hand gripped your hair, tugging your head back so that you could feel his rough facial skin rub up against yours. “If you want me to fill you with my pups, you better be the best fucking omega on this goddamn planet.”

“I can be the best! I’ll be the best!” you cried, your ass shifting backward to meet his drilling hips.

The delirious sensation of his cock rocking against your cervix slowly begins to inflate the knot on his cock, restricting his still barbaric thrusting as he made to move faster. He wanted you to cum before he knotted entirely within you.

The pressure in your stomach is scorching and impossibly tight, and he takes another long stripe at your scent gland. You tremble with need, your fingers tearing into the wooden floors. You can feel the knot on his cock swelling up, catching onto the opening of your cunt with every successive cunt, and you begin to cry, shake, and tremble as the knot becomes too big.

Your eyes cross, your tongue falling out of your mouth as you babble his name. Your walls clamp around his knotted cock with the ferocity of a vice, and your body jerks violently as you cum hard around his cock. The slick essence of your orgasm slipping out of the few lasting places open before Shigaraki’s knot fills you out entirely. Despite his cock unable to move, the swollenness of his knot preventing him from moving out of you, Shigaraki still shoves his weight into his hips, the inflated knot stretching your cock out so widely, your vision went white, and you came yet a second time.

A small pop was heard, and suddenly with a rush of thick, hot, and heavy white cum exploded within your womb, his teeth sink around your scent gland, marking you — mating you. He filled you, filled you, and filled you. His cum wouldn’t stop until your belly was swollen with his hot cum, and he eventually fell off of you with a shaky, shallow breath.

You still remained on the mount, your eyes unfocused, breaths mumbling to your alpha, a promise to carry out every single pup he gave you and would give you. You were his omega, his good little omega, and you would never disappoint your alpha. Not now, not ever.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

The next week, you opened your door with a broad smile, your usual clothes replaced with a dress Shigaraki had picked for you and a frilly white apron on as your agent was standing outside of your house, eyes wide, mouth gaped at the still bleeding mate wound on your shoulder.

“Ah, how funny!” you laughed, waving your hand as you sighed dreamily, your eyes fluttering at the thought of your alpha who was on a business call right now. “I’m actually going to be quitting! My alpha and I have many plans right now, I gotta produce as many litters as I can, being an actress would never give me this sort of meaning in life!”

“B-But, you’re doing so much?! You have so much to do! You can’t give up?!”

“Oh, my love, we both know that I look much cuter with a pregnant belly! Don’t worry,” you smile, taking your agent's hand, brightly smiling at her one last time. “I’m sure all omegas will eventually find their alpha so they won’t be so depressed and angry like I was!”

Your agent doesn’t get another word in.

You slam the door in her face, your hands already resting on your belly that you knew was already growing the life of your first litter of pups. It had been known the second Shigaraki filled you up anymore.

You were a good little omega, and your alpha needed you!

#shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura x reader #shigaraki smut #bnha #bnha x reader #mha #bbs kinktober 2020

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robininthelabyrinth · 4 years

Note

Would you continue the prompt with the Nie brothers going back in time?

sequel to this

Nie Mingjue started his first week back in time with training.

All those years as a spirit, unable to transcend to reincarnation, had taught him some little amount of patience – he had so much to do, so many things to accomplish, but no matter how much he itched to get started on all of them, it would all go to waste if he didn’t first acclimate himself to this time period, if he didn’t figure out how to pretend that he wasn’t decades older than his current self; if he slipped up, his father would think he was possessed.

Baxia continued to be unusually cooperative, almost as if she, too, knew that they needed to keep up a proper façade – she fought with him, of course, straining in his hands to go destroy things, but it’s playful, a game of tug-of-war rather than a serious attempt to go slaughter the wicked. He smiled at her as he went through the endless motions of saber control while the family elders studied his every action closely to make sure he wasn’t inadvertently heading down the wrong path.

Not his father, luckily; he was preoccupied with Sect matters during this time, and they usually only ever saw each other very briefly over breakfast – it wasn’t that Nie Mingjue wasn’t glad to see his father alive and well, he was, desperately. It was only that he didn’t actually remember what the man had been like at this time, all the good memories he had of him overshadowed by the horrible six months between his saber breaking and his actual death.

He didn’t remember what it was like, having a father, and that made things awkward in a way he couldn’t quite explain.

The only problem Nie Mingjue had foreseen with his plan was that he would invariably be reluctant to leave Nie Huaisang’s side for too long, but that ended up not being an issue - Nie Huaisang often came to play by the side of the training field. He was too small to train in anything but the most basic arm motions, small weights wrapped around his wrists to slowly strengthen his shoulders as he ran around and mimicked Nie Mingjue’s actions with a stick, but there, always there, and it was an unspeakable relief.

Nie Mingjue wasn’t sure he remembered Nie Huaisang being quite so consistent with his presence, but he assumed the issue was with his memory – it had been so many years, after all.

It was good that it was this way, though. Nie Mingjue hadn’t been sure how else he’d explain why he wanted to keep so close a watch over his brother.

It was only a few days in when he was finally allowed to do more than the basic movements. In a fit of wicked amusement, he did a move that was more advanced than he really should be capable of at this age, prodigy or not, throwing Baxia out in that most familiar motion that had been burned into him by the war, sending her piercing through the training dummy before summoning her back with a flick of his wrist.

He grinned unreservedly when Baxia returned to him, feeling finally a bit more like himself, and for some reason that was when Nie Huaisang started crying.

Nie Mingjue immediately turned and ran over to him, the decade he’d spent being both mother and father to him kicking in at once to override any other instincts he might have. But there wasn’t anything wrong with him that he could see: Nie Huaisang was fine.

Just – crying. Sobbing unreservedly, as if his heart had broken.

“Shh, Huaisang, it’s all right,” Nie Mingjue said, trying to coax him. Four-year-olds were so difficult! “Don’t worry, da-ge’s here – do you want to hold Baxia?”

Nie Huaisang shook his head and clung onto his clothing, burying his face with a nose full of snot right onto Nie Mingjue’s shoulder. Nie Mingjue sighed a little: if he’d actually still been twelve, he would be extremely uncomfortable right now, a little repulsed, a little helpless.

Twelve, in other words.

It didn’t bother him now. It was amazing what sort of gross bodily functions became boring and ordinary after you’d had the experience of being brutally dismembered, your soul forcefully broken into pieces and sealed so you couldn’t escape.

He ignored the disapproving gazes of his elders – interrupting saber practice for a little boy’s tears was not approved conduct, and he’d probably have to report to the punishment hall later for breach of discipline – and picked Nie Huaisang up in his arms, enjoying that they were both still young enough that the action would not be seen as odd.

He carried him inside.

“You’re not hurt?” he checked again, and Nie Huaisang shook his head once more. “Hungry?” Another no. “Too hot?” Averted eyes, so maybe. “Do you want to play something else?”

A hesitant nod.

Nie Mingjue still wasn’t sure what had set Nie Huaisang off, but based on the way he’d grown up, he thought he might have a good idea about what he’d like.

He took him up to their mother’s old bedroom – technically Nie Mingjue’s mother, since Nie Huaisang’s sadly short-lived mother had been a concubine – and searched in her things, finally pulling out one of the fans he was pretty sure he’d seen Nie Huaisang gawking over as a child and then treasuring as an adult.

“Here,” he said, smiling as he offered it up, “this is something to play with and keep cool – no, no, Huaisang, didi! Why are you crying now?”

Nie Huaisang clutched the fan and wailed, throwing himself at Nie Mingjue, mumbling something about da-ge being the best da-ge and possibly also something about ‘never knew it was you’ which – what?

Maybe Nie Huaisang had dozed off in the heat while watching Nie Mingjue train and had a nightmare.

Feeling more than a little helpless, Nie Mingjue just gave up understanding the inexplicable and just went about the rest of his day with a small child on one arm, which seemed to work well enough in convincing Nie Huaisang not to cry any more. When he visited the punishment hall to report on his broken training, the elder there – while approving of his principles – couldn’t resist asking him about it, and Nie Mingjue had shrugged and said something about lifting weights.

Nie Huaisang giggled. “I’m the best weight!”

“See?” Nie Mingjue said to the elder, who was fighting a smile. “He’s the best weight. I get stronger supporting him, and he’s never a burden.”

For some reason, that made Nie Huaisang go quiet, burying his face in Nie Mingjue’s shoulder as if he’d once again gone shy, and it wasn’t until they were outside – in view of voluntarily accepting the consequences of his actions, Nie Mingjue was only required to spend some time kneeling in reflection – that he spoke again.

“I won’t be a burden to you, da-ge,” he said, very seriously. He really had surprisingly good diction for a child of his age, which Nie Mingjue hadn’t noticed in his first life. But then, who would have ever noticed a scholarly genius in the Unclean Realm? “I promise. I won’t ever drag you down or – or embarrass you.”

Nie Mingjue thought of the future – years and years of Nie Huaisang, amateur good-for-nothing eventually ascending into the level of professional, followed by years of using that very uselessness as a mask to hide the oriole as it slowly stalked the mantis – and couldn’t resist chuckling.

“What embarrassment?” he asked, teasing. “Do I look like someone who can’t handle losing a bit of face? Do as you like, as long as you’re happy. Walk whatever path you like; no matter what you choose, your da-ge will hold up the world for you.”

This time around, he promised himself that he’d keep that vow. He might be doomed to die an early death in this life, Baxia conquering his spirit until he entered qi deviation even if there was no poisoned Song of Clarity pouring into his ears, but at least this time he knew it: he could lay the proper foundation to make sure Nie Huaisang would be properly taken care of, this time, put loyal retainers at his side to do the dirty work he’d sullied his own hands with in a previous future life.

“…thank you, da-ge,” Nie Huaisang said, and he was rubbing his eyes again, all red, but at least he hadn’t descended into sobbing again.

Children were so hard to understand.

“You still need to work hard to form your golden core,” Nie Mingjue told him, a little worried – he knew himself, knew that he wouldn’t be able to resist spoiling Nie Huaisang even more in this life than in the last, knew that it had been painfully hard for Nie Huaisang to get his core formed the last time around. He didn’t have a talent for it, plain and simple, but it still had to be done. “It’s important, okay, Huaisang? Even if you don’t really like playing with sabers or training, you still have to do that much. Without a golden core, you’re just a regular person, with a short life and no way to protect yourself…you don’t want to make your da-ge have to bury you, do you?”

That would kill him more assuredly than any qi deviation.

Nie Huaisang quivered all over and shook his head furiously. “I’ll work hard, da-ge! I promise!”

A simple conversation wasn’t going to be enough to mitigate a little of Nie Huaisang’s inevitable laziness, but that was fine; they had time left. Nie Mingjue wasn’t planning on dying so young that he wouldn’t live to see Nie Huaisang properly set down the path of their family’s road to cultivation, even if he knew already that he’d only abandon it later.

A couple of days after that, just as he was considering his options in terms of how to convince their father to send someone to search for Meng Yao, who he at least had a general idea of where he was located, Nie Huaisang toddled down to the main room with a piece of paper crushed in his grubby little fist.

“Mail!” he exclaimed happily. “Baba, mail!”

“A-die, Huaisang,” their father said, fond but a little long-suffering already. “Not baba. Your da-ge calls me a-die; you should…Huaisang. Did you wash your hands before you went to get the mail?”

Nie Huaisang blinked up at him, so obviously innocent that he was clearly pretending not to understand the question as if it could erase the misdeed, and Nie Mingjue coughed very hard into his fist in a vain effort to keep from laughing.

His father gave him a stern look that wasn’t stern at all – the twitching lips not entirely hidden behind his trimmed beard rather destroyed the effect – and shook his head at Nie Huaisang, who definitely knew better.

“What sort of dirt were you even playing with this early?” he asked, plucking the crushed letter out of Nie Huaisang’s hands; he sounded as helpless as Nie Mingjue always felt. It was good to know that parenting Nie Huaisang was a challenge no matter who was doing it. “How did you even..? Look at this, Huaisang; the entire thing is almost illegible. It looks like a dog ate it.”

“And then threw it back up,” Nie Mingjue added, aware that he was not being helpful and enjoying it to its fullest. “What is it, anyway?”

“Doesn’t seem like anything much, a request for aid from – uh – Yingchuan…? Mingjue, see if you can read this.”

Nie Mingjue accepted it, suddenly excited: if he recalled correctly, Yingchuan – technically a region that ought to be asking for help from Qishan Wen, not Qinghe Nie, but everyone knew who was more likely to show up without demanding unreasonable things in exchange – was where Wei Wuxian had spent some years as a child, very likely the years without his parents. It had come up in conversation once, Wei Wuxian having been greatly ashamed to discover that certain parts of his speech shared intonations with Wen Chao’s whore, who also came from that region.

“It must be from the Yingchuan Wang sect,” he agreed, squinting at the truly ghastly calligraphy. It looked as though it had been written by a small child – a very careful one that knew all the right letters, but definitely as though the brush had been clutched in a fist rather than held correctly. “Seeking assistance with…something. It’s just an ink splotch now. A-die, can I go?”

His father blinked, clearly surprised by the request. “You? Why? We don’t need to curry favor Yingchuan Wang, of all people, by sending the heir; I was planning on sending a few outer disciples.”

“If some outer sect disciples can do it, so can I,” Nie Mingjue pointed out, quite reasonably in his mind. “And while we might not need Yingchuan Wang, you know they’ll be unbearably smug about having been so honored – they’ll tell everyone and their neighbor about it, and that’ll make Wen Ruohan waste time wondering what it is that they have that we want.”

“Sect Leader Wen,” his father reminded him, and, oh, right, they hadn’t reached the point of totally breaking ties with them yet – that had only happened after his father’s death. The mildness of the rebuke and the lack of any punishment, though, suggested that things were already quite tense between them. “And I’m not sure it’s a good idea for you to go so soon after you’ve started properly training your spiritual weapon.”

“Training is only training,” Nie Mingjue reminded his father in turn. Nie Huaisang’s head was turning between the two of them like a window swinging in a strong wind. “I won’t be able to actually call her mine until I’ve bloodied her in combat.”

He’d taken Baxia’s first blood himself, of course, cutting his hand on the blade to give her the first taste of blood so that she’d know her master; he’d replicated the action after he’d come back in time, a reminder of the bond between them, and his hand still had a bandage, the palm still a little tender as the scar settled into place – a terrible place for a cut, really, but that was the point. Accepting something as dangerous as a saber should hurt.

But the saber spirits were cultivated through battle with evil, doing battle with resentful energy – if Nie Mingjue truly wanted to become stronger, and he did, desperately, he needed to go night-hunting. Twelve was a bit young to go out solo, most cultivators waiting until fourteen or fifteen so that they could make a good showing, but Qinghe Nie had always been a bit fast on that front.

In the end, fame was only secondary; before anything else, they had to uphold justice and suppress evil.

“Give me your saber,” his father ordered, and Nie Mingjue hesitated for a moment – old memories, bad ones, ones that hurt – but then he forced away his uneasiness and unhooked Baxia from his back to offer it over to his father, saber balanced between his two palms.

His father put his hand over Baxia, his brow furrowing with concentration as he examined the saber, and eventually he frowned.

“She’s very strong,” he said, and from his tone Nie Mingjue knew it wasn’t entirely a good thing; a powerful saber at such a young age meant Nie Mingjue’s talent for cultivation was prodigious – Baxia had always been exceptional, even in his first life, and especially in comparison later on with Aituan, Nie Huaisang’s lazy plonk of a saber – but it would make things harder for him later. “Yes, perhaps you should go. The sooner your saber learns to hate evil, the better.”

Nie Mingjue smiled.

“Da-ge…” Nie Huaisang said, clearly looking worried and also oddly dissatisfied, a twist of his lips as if something hadn’t gone according to plan, but Nie Mingjue leaned over and ruffled his hair until he squeaked. “Da-ge!”

“Don’t worry, Huaisang. I’ll take some disciples with me. It’ll be fine.”

The Yingchuan Wang sect was even more annoying than Nie Mingjue had previously remembered them being – they acted as though they’d never written any sort of letter, strutting around as if they were proud (proud!) that there was such a large disaster in their territory that sect cultivators and rogue cultivators alike were making their way over to find the creature that had murdered so many, villagers and traveling passer-by alike.

Nie Mingjue had racked his memory to try to see if he could figure out what type of beast there was here, but he couldn’t remember – it hadn’t made much of an impact in his last life, when he’d been at home focusing on taming Baxia, and no one had ever mentioned exactly what it was later on.

Still, it didn’t make much of a difference. They hadn’t been out in the deeply forested valley for more than half a shichen when Nie Mingjue stepped on the right piece of disturbed soil and immediately knew that there was a mass grave here.

He’d seen too many battles not to recognize the signs.

A mass grave, a sign of many deaths all at once, and yet this was an era of peace with no reported battles anywhere nearby –

“Shit,” he said shortly, and the Nie cultivators with him – all older than him and nominally more experienced – turned to look at him. “There was a plague here. Probably covered up by the local people, the corpses buried without any ritual or purification…and that’s assuming they were all dead when they went into the earth. Best case scenario, we’ll have an entire group of mid-level fierce corpses, possibly high-level; worst case scenario, all that, but with a demon and maybe some guai to join in – dead or sick dogs are often thrown into these sorts of pits as well.”

“Pits?” one of the cultivators asked. “Nie-gongzi, what pit –��

“Look at the earth!” Nie Mingjue snapped. “You can see that all of it has been disturbed, with no plants growing but the ill-omened ones. Smell the air! Blood mixing in with soil, a hint of decay, of sickness in the surrounding trees...you can sense the resentful energy that hangs over this place – it’s a mass grave, recently interred, and without any battles in the area, that means plague. And Yingchuan Wang didn’t say a damn word about it!”

No wonder Wei Wuxian’s parents had died. Nie Mingjue had known he was going to go up against something fierce and brought more help than he would have normally bothered with – his father had agreed on the basis that Nie Mingjue was, well, twelve – and even he wasn’t sure they’d be able to tackle something of this magnitude: a pair of rogue cultivators, no matter how naturally talented, couldn’t fail to be overwhelmed.

“You three, go scout out the full size of the grave,” he ordered, falling easily and immediately into giving orders. This was not a good situation, but he’d met with worse during the war; as long as swift and decisive action could be taken, it could still be resolved in their favor. “You and you, start setting up a five-point suppression array on the parts of it we can see – here, and over by the large oaks there. If we get the array up in time, we’ll be able to keep more corpses from rising and hitting us from behind as we take the ones already risen. We remaining three will each go separately into the forest to begin hunting; take flares with you in the event you encounter something you can’t handle, and if you see any rogue cultivators, bring them back here at once.”

“Rogue cultivators?” Nie Zonghui, one of the ones he’d tasked with hunting, asked, looking dumb, and all of them were staring blankly at him as if they hadn’t understood a single word he’d said. “Why –”

“Are you disciples of my Nie sect or not?” Nie Mingjue roared, ignoring how much less impressive it was when his voice was still young and tender. “I gave you orders, and you’re still here gawking! Get moving!”

They scattered immediately, sect discipline kicking in almost before he finished shouting.

“Rogue cultivators are typically weak; they will only be a burden, and taking the time to rescue them will divert our attention from the main target,” Nie Zonghui said, still lingering a little. “Nie-gongzi, are you sure –”

“No matter how weak they are, they can still form a shield line,” Nie Mingjue said firmly. Nie Zonghui was a cousin and a good soldier; Nie Mingjue could take the time to answer his question, even if he was going to insist that the man submit to punishment later for questioning his commander during battle. He understood, of course – the commander in question was twelve, and the post was meant to be nominal, more a sop to a child’s ego than an actual hierarchy – but that didn’t change the fact of it. “Suppressing evil before it can spread is the priority, but I won’t spend lives cheaply, either ours or theirs. Think of it practically: rogue cultivators don’t have access to the same soul-calming rituals as the major sects, so if they die or are injured, they might become possessed, and the number of our enemies will grow. Now go.”

Nie Zonghui nodded sharply. “Understood, Nie-gongzi.”

It was very strange being called Nie-gongzi again after so many years of being called Sect Leader Nie, Nie Mingjue reflected as he flew into the deeper parts of the forest, letting an eager Baxia guide him towards the thickest concentration of resentful energy. He’d have to learn to adjust, especially if he hoped to keep his father alive this time around…

“Are you insane?” he blurted out, throwing himself down into the ongoing battle that he found there.

There was a demon, it appeared, the twisted remains of what had been a living man, plague-ridden and thrown into a pit to be buried alive among the bodies of the dead; the resentment had overcome the man before death had taken him, and he rose from his too-early grave. If he had limited himself to those that had wronged him, Nie Mingjue might have understood – the Nie sect wasn’t as inflexible as the Lan sect when it came to allowing the dead to find purification through revenge – but this one had clearly gone well beyond that.

A pair of rogue cultivators, a man and a woman, had apparently encountered the demon by chance and decided to take it on by themselves in what Nie Mingjue could only assume was a combination of sheer bullheaded stupidity and a lack of other options, and it was going about was well as one might expect – the woman was about to be pierced through the neck from behind, having given up her defensive position to shove her husband out of harm’s way.

Nie Mingjue came down at that moment, using gravity to help bring Baxia down on the demon’s outstretched hand with full force; the hand snapped under the strain and the demon roared, furious, and Nie Mingjue engaged it at once to give the other two time to regroup.

“Thank you, daozhang,” the man gasped, grabbing his wife and pulling her back towards him – they both had swords, although she also had a horsetail whisk shoved into her belt – and then he presumably had enough time to actually get a look at who had saved him. “You’re a child!”

Nie Mingjue ignored him; it was true, for the moment, and at least the man hadn’t picked the word for a child under the age of ten. Another thing he’d have to adjust to, he supposed: being treated by the rest of the world as a child. Not everyone had proper sect discipline that he could rely on, after all…

“Whatever his age may be, he saved my neck and your ass,” the woman says, and pulls out her whisk. “Daozhang, there are three of us now, we can suppress it –”

It was a good suggestion, and Nie Mingjue nodded. “North facing mountain array?” he suggested. While not the most efficient, it was the most common three-point array; most rogue cultivators would know it.

“Do you know the budding lotus pattern?” the man asked, and Nie Mingjue took half a moment to realize that he’d apparently just run into Wei Wuxian’s unfortunate parents.

“Yes. Yunmeng style?” he asked, and the man nodded. “I’ll take the center.”

“Are you sure you can handle the strain –?” the man began, and his wife kicked him.

“He’ll be fine, you mother hen,” she said fondly. “He’s neither injured nor tired, unlike us, and that saber of his will keep him stabilized. Move!”

A three point array, especially one centered by a twelve-year-old, wasn’t enough to actually suppress a full fledged demon, but the woman used her whisk to good effect and between the three of them they were able to slowly harry it back towards the mass grave.

Nie Zonghui and Lin Tianfeng had found their own targets as well, using their sabers to drive the corpses back into the larger array where they would be trapped; they’d also found some rogue cultivators, who were standing guard around the Nie cultivators focused on maintaining the array. All had rather relieved expressions on their faces.

Nie Zonghui glanced over when Nie Mingjue and his group emerged, a momentary flash of relief at seeing Nie Mingjue unharmed that quickly turned into horror when he realized Nie Mingjue had managed to run into the demon; he shouted for Lin Tianfeng to cover his group of corpses and ran over.

Normally, Nie Mingjue would scold him at once for leaving his appointed position, but at the moment he was breathing too hard to speak, so Nie Zonghui’s actions could be probably be excused as a reasonable concern for the condition of his commander.

He gestured with his head towards Rogue Cultivator Wei, the weakest of their triangle, and Nie Zonghui changed his direction at once. To his credit, Rogue Cultivator Wei didn’t protest and swapped out immediately, though he stayed close by, sword at the ready.

Once the demon was in the five-point array, Nie Mingjue pulled back and took a moment to breathe – he hadn’t been this tired in years, being twelve was awful, he needed to get back his cultivation as soon as possible – and then shook his head to clear it. “Exterminate them,” he ordered.

“Shouldn’t we try to purify them first?” Nie Zonghui asked.

“No need. I performed Empathy on one of them earlier: they’ve already wiped out the villagers that did this to them and didn’t stop,” Cangse Sanren said crisply. “There’s nothing left to liberate here, and demons that have grown hungry for blood and souls are not easily suppressed. You should listen to your young master’s instincts.”

Nie Zonghui flushed at the rebuke and hurried off to guide the other cultivators in eliminating the target. Nie Mingjue examined his own cultivation and decided against going to help; if they needed his participation, he could, but it would be a strain.

Rogue Cultivator Wei sat down on the ground with a sigh, clearly thinking the same; his wife came over to him and he learned his head against her waist, her hand in his hair. They murmured sweet things to each other for a bit – Nie Mingjue politely pretended to have gone temporarily deaf – and then they both turned to him.

“Thank you, Nie-gongzi,” Rogue Cultivator Wei said. “My name is Wei Changze –”

So that’s what his name was; Nie Mingjue had utterly forgotten it.

“– and this is my wife, Cangse Sanren, a pupil of Baoshan Sanren.”

“Nie Mingjue,” Nie Mingjue said, and tiredly raised his hands to properly salute them. “Well met.”

“It’s a bit more than merely well,” Cangse Sanren said, smiling; there was a great deal of Wei Wuxian in her eyes and the way she smiled, though her tiny button of a nose would have looked very odd on the handsome young man her son would later become. “You saved our lives. Is there anything we can do for you in return?”

Nie Mingjue was tired; his cultivation exhausted, his arms hurting from the strain of supporting both saber and array, and Baxia was complaining that she’d barely gotten a few stabs in the demon and why wasn’t he over there helping everyone out when all he wanted was to close his eyes.

Those were the only excuses he could give for his thoughtlessly rude response.

“Just don’t leave your son alone when you night-hunt in the future,” he said, churlish with the mental image of Wei Wuxian merging with Nie Huaisang at the same age. “When the food you left for him and the landlord’s patience run out, what do you think will become of him? Do you want to see him fighting wild dogs on the streets for something to eat?!”

They both looked dumbfounded by that response and Nie Mingjue winced; he hadn’t meant to be so blunt about it. His reputation as an excessively straightforward man had always been justified by reality, but he usually managed to remember to keep to the rules of etiquette – being twelve was making him unduly impulsive.

“Forgive me,” he said hastily. “It’s not my business, I know; only it’s been a long day –”

“No, you’re right,” Cangse Sanren said, her eyes wide. “If you hadn’t come in time, we would have both perished, and then A-Ying…”

“Jiang-ge would have come to find him,” Wei Changze said, although he looked disturbed as well. “He would have –”

“How long would it have taken?” she demanded. “We’ve fallen out of the habit of writing letters; the last one we posted was from Tanzhou – it would be months before he realized something was wrong, and even then he would have gone the wrong way entirely!”

“A-Ying could have…no, he’s too young to remember Yunmeng, he wouldn’t have known –”

Nie Mingjue, who had been forgotten, coughed to get their attention. He didn’t quite feel up to walking away, which meant he had to stop this argument or else be stuck listening to it.

“Surely there’s some sect you can house in until your child is old enough,” he said, meaning the Jiang sect but unable to say it so bluntly. “That way he’ll won’t waste time kicking his heels while you’re away on night hunts.”

“I don’t want him to start training this early,” Cangse Sanren objected. “Children so young should be playing.”

Nie Mingjue huffed a laugh. “My younger brother would agree with you,” he said, though in fairness Nie Huaisang hadn’t actually yet reached the age where he’d start complaining non-stop about having to do lessons or training or – well, anything. It wasn’t as though they’d know. “He’s very firm about getting in at least three hours of cloud-watching every day. Says it’s good for his health.”

“You have a younger brother?” Wei Changze asked, smiling. “How old?”

“Close enough to step on your son’s robes,” Nie Mingjue said, then remembered he hadn’t ever asked the age of their son. “I’d guess, anyway. He’s less than half my age.”

Wei Chagnze looked at his wife and she looked back at him, that wordless communication that married couples that liked each other tended to have – Nie MIngjue had once said to Lan Xichen that if they could bottle that they’d never have another information leak ever again, making his friend laugh to tears, and oh, Lan Xichen, he’d be around now, wouldn’t he, but he’d be so small, they hadn’t even met yet – and then he said, “Can we come with you?”

Which – what?

He blinked at them. “Don’t you want to return to the Lotus Pier?”

He’d just assumed that they would: Wei Wuxian had grown up in the Jiang sect in the end, after all.

The two of them looked at each other again and then both smiled wryly, and suddenly Nie Mingjue remembered all those awkward rumors about Sect Leader Jiang having a thing for either one or the other or both of them and then having shortly thereafter married Yu Ziyuan while notoriously still pining; he felt his cheeks grow hot and cursed his twelve-year-old body once again.

“Uh, right. I mean – sure?” he hazarded. “My Nie sect is always happy to host guest cultivators of talent.”

“You saved our lives, and maybe even our son’s,” Cangse Sanren said firmly. “We owe you a life debt, and that cannot be so easily repaid. The least we can do is give your sect any merits that we earn.”

Nie Mingjue wasn’t sure that was how life debts worked – it mostly seemed like his saving their life now meant he had to find a place to house them – but whatever, he’d known that changing the past would cause some other things to change.

He hadn’t expected that it would be his sect that got stuck with the future Yiling Patriarch.

Still, that wasn’t all bad: Nie Huaisang had greatly enjoyed Wei Wuxian’s company while at the Cloud Recesses, and he’d gone to no little effort to eventually resurrect the man – they could be friends from an earlier time, this life. Maybe Wei Wuxian would end up not becoming the Yiling Patriarch at all, or maybe Yiling Wei would end up under his father or mother instead, or – who knows?

Certainly not Nie Mingjue.

“That seems fine,” he said, and stood with a stretch: the array had been successfully converted from suppression to eradication, and the demon and all the corpses were just about gone. That meant it was time to go home, since the Nie sect obviously wasn’t going to go claim any rewards and the rogue cultivators would spread all the rumors he might wish. “Go pick up Wei Wuxian and make your way to the Unclean Realm in Qinghe; you’ll be welcome there.”

“Wuxian?” Wei Changze said thoughtfully. “Wei Wuxian – I like the sound of that.”

“An excellent courtesy name,” Cangse Sanren agreed, smiling. “Thank you for your suggestion, Nie-gongzi. We’ve been arguing for months over what it should be.”

Nie Mingjue, who had entirely forgotten that Wei Wuxian wouldn’t have received his courtesy name yet, flushed red, babbled something polite to make his farewells, and went back with the others.

His father was waiting for him inside. “How did it go?” he asked, the question obviously aimed as much at Nie Zonghui as at Nie Mingjue himself.

“It went well,” Nie Mingjue replied. “Yingchuan Wang didn’t give us any useful information, but we were able to find the problem and eradicate it; no serious issues came up.”

“Good.”

“Sect Leader Nie,” Nie Zonghui said, his face and voice both a bit odd. “Might I have a word..?”

Nie Mingjue didn’t have time to think about that: Nie Huaisang had run over and started tugging at his clothing, demanding to hear about the trip, what he’d done, whether he’d met anyone interesting…

“I met a very nice couple, rogue cultivators, with a son your age,” Nie Mingjue told him, taking him off to the side so Nie Zonghui could speak to his father with some privacy. “They’ll be coming here before the season turns.”

“Coming here? Why here?”

“Adult stuff,” Nie Mingjue said, shrugging helplessly – how to explain the complicated web of affection between people? But Nie Huaisang, with the usual impatience of children, merely went ‘oh’ as if everything was explained. “You can be friends with him, if you like, Huaisang. Wouldn’t you like another brother?”

Nie Huaisang wrinkled his nose. “Well, maybe. Not if he’s not going to stick around.”

That was fair. Rogue cultivators weren’t exactly known for staying put, and the issue they’d faced this time around would only persist until Wei Wuxian was old enough to care for himself – not long at all.

“Mingjue!” his father called, and now he had a strange expression; Nie Mingjue took Nie Huaisang by the hand and walked back over. “You confronted a plague demon on your own?”

Nie Mingjue frowned. “No, of course not,” he said. “There were two rogue cultivators –”

“A demon and nearly two dozen high-level fierce corpses,” his father said. “Arising from a hidden plague pit which you were able to identify before anyone else, and then you took command, ordering the array to be set up, assigning tasks, the entire thing resulting in a successful hunt with no casualties – all of this on your first real night-hunt. And your only report to me was it went well?!”

Nie Mingjue had no idea what his father wanted him to say here. “It did go well, though?”

His father laughed and ruffled his hair, making Nie Mingjue scowl. “It was indeed very well done,” he said, and he looked proud; Nie Mingjue felt an unfamiliar warmth in his chest. “Anything else you want to add to Nie Zonghui’s description?”

Nie Mingjue cast a slightly guilty glance at his cousin, who had apparently been very complimentary, but well, rules were rules for a reason. “While understandable given my age, Fourth Uncle questioned my judgment instead of following orders,” he said. “It wasn’t an issue and I’m sure he wouldn’t have done it if the battle conditions were more imminent, but I would still recommend an evening reflecting on sect discipline.”

Nie Zonghui bowed in acknowledgment; he was grinning for some reason, and his good humor didn’t seem even remotely dented by the prospect. “Of course.”

“Anything else?” his father asked. He looked extremely amused: had he and Nie Zonghui shared some sort of joke? “Zonghui said you had no issues with flying on Baxia, and that you wielded it well; also that you took the center for a three-point array with the two rogue cultivators to drive the demon back towards the large suppression array.”

Nie Mingjue nodded; he’d expected that Nie Zonghui’s report would have included that, so he hadn’t bothered to mention it. Though now that he thought of it, there was something he should share with his father.

“I invited the two rogue cultivators to become guest disciples here, along with their son,” he said. “Daozhang Wei Changze, formerly of Yunmeng Jiang, and his wife Cangse Sanren, disciple of Baoshan Sanren –”

“They want to be guest disciples here? Not Yunmeng Jiang?”

“I didn’t press for details,” Nie MIngjue said, feeling his face flush red again; seeing it, both his father and Nie Zonghui burst out laughing. “Anyway, I said they’d be welcome. I hope I didn’t overstep.”

“Of course they’re welcome,” his father said, wiping his eyes. “They’re very well regarded, even if Sect Leader Jiang will probably find a way to poison my tea at the next discussion conference…you did well, Mingjue. You may have the remainder of the day to your leisure.”

Nie Mingjue nodded and took Nie Huaisang back to his room, which was about as messy as one would expect from a four year old. His little brother was pouting, so he squeezed his hand. “What’s got that look on your face?”

“You did so well, and all you get is half a day off?” Nie Huaisang said, a cute little scowl on his face. “He should’ve said something more.”

Nie Mingjue laughed. “We’ll probably have my favorite dishes for dinner sometime this week,” he predicted. “I don’t need more recognition than that. Now: what do you want to play?”

Nie Huaisang blinked up at him. “But baba said you had the second half of the day to do whatever you like.”

“And what I’d like to do is play with my didi,” Nie Mingjue said firmly: he’d regretted not spending enough time on Nie Huaisang in his past life, too busy with sect matters and his own issues, and he intended to remedy that this time around. He lifted Nie Huaisang and put him on the bed. “Come on, you pick something while I clean up a bit here so we’ll have space to sit.”

Nie Huaisang beamed, chattering at breakneck speed as to the various options of what they could do, while Nie Mingjue picked up the various toys and books lying around.

One of them was even a book of maps, which was far too valuable to be given to a child as young as Nie Huaisang; he tucked that one up high and reminded himself to take it back to the library when they were done playing, no matter if Nie Huaisang protested – if he wanted to look at pretty pictures, he could pick something else.

It wasn’t as if Nie Huaisang had any need to look up cities in Yunmeng, after all.

Though – now that he thought about it, maybe Nie Mingjue should take a look at that book before he returned it. If he remembered correctly, the page it had been open to had shown an image of Yunping City, where he might be able to find Meng Yao…

#mdzs #nie mingjue #nie huaisang #wei changze #cangse sanren #my fic #my fics #time travel nie bros #oneiriad

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skullsandwineglasses · 3 years

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Awu - A coping character

Like a lot of people, my immediate reaction after watching episodes 59-63 was dissatisfaction and frustration. It seemed like Awu was a passive character. I still think she is passive, but that’s not necessarily a flaw or something that we should fault her about. This is going to be a helluva long post, but let me try to explain.

Awu is what you would call a “coping” character. She copes with obstacles thrown at her. She reacts to the machinations that blow up around her. She doesn’t really strive for things, except for probably general happiness. In the trailers, you hear her say in the voiceover, “I just want to be with the one I love”. Awu is a romantic. We saw this when she was young and crushing on Zi Tan and how she begged the emperor to grant her the wish of marrying for love. When she is a married woman, we see her wanting to start a family with Xiao Qi. We see her actively seek out ways to boost her health so that she can bear a child. Her ultimate goal is to find true love and have a family.

In a way, she reminds me of the Mandalorian. There’s a meme that says that even though the Mandalorian is the main character that the audience follows, in the grand scheme of things, the Mandalorian is actually just a side character among a group of main characters. The Mandalorian doesn’t strive for much. He just wants to be a Space Dad (TM) to Baby Yoda and to find a jedi to train his adopted child, and he has absolutely no interest in the politics in the galaxy. But, he’s always unwillingly thrust into politically-charged situations by these “main” characters around him who have their own political missions.

As a princess, Awu is the center of attention. Everyone dotes on her. But she isn’t a key player in the palace politics at all. She has no desire to be apart of it, even though everyone tries to pull her into it: Daddy Wang trying to force her into an military-advantageous marriage, her Empress aunt trying to get her to marry her son the crown prince, and then her Emperor uncle using her to help protect his will. Everyone has their own political agenda that each would have long-lasting consequences to the empire, but all Awu wants is to live happily ever after with the person she loves. This goal of hers never changes throughout the drama, which I admire. Even up to episode 63, she’s asking Xiao Qi to let go of vengeance and leave the capital with her to go live up north like they’ve always dreamed and planned together. While I don’t really agree with her asking XQ to give up vengeance, I completely understand why she asks him.

Among a cast of characters who are constantly planning and scheming, even Xiao Qi now with his drive for justice and vengeance, it almost feels like Awu doesn’t belong, and I think this difference between her and the people around her is why it can seem frustrating to some viewers. We project our emotions onto her and expect her to react as we would. We expect her to act like how we think we would act in that situation. But Awu has always been different from the people around her. I don’t think she’s ever really been in-sync with any character expect maybe for her mom, her maids (Jin’er doesn’t count), and Xiao Qi. So now that her and XQ are slightly out of sync in terms of their attitudes, we’re feeling a little on edge.

I think many would agree that Awu is a smart character, but she doesn’t scheme. And again, that’s because she’s a simple young woman, so we can’t expect her to scheme since she’s never had to. She’s never had to scheme to survive. Even when her whole family schemes, they always think about sparring her because of how much they loved her in the past. People complain about her being the last one to find out about things, but that’s because she doesn’t really involve herself in matters outside the house. She always thinks the best of people and so she never suspects them. She’s saintly to a fault. In a way, Awu is a very idealistic character, but also a resilient one since she’s able to remain true to her original nature even after witnessing the worst of her family. I admit, this was a little hard to buy at first, which was why I was frustrated with her, and her character isn’t everyone’s cup of tea because it’s a really Mary Sue kind of character, but after having cooled down these past few days, I’ve learned to respect her. With all the cunning and ruthless female leads recently, it’s nice to see a female lead who stays true to herself even after facing adversity, instead of becoming hardened and jaded and cynical. I feel like we hate on these kinds of FLs too much, kind of like how everyone hated Bella from Twilight back in 2010. I secretly really liked Bella and related to her when I was a teen, but I boarded on the hate-bandwagon because everyone else hated her.

BUT, I think what’s causing all the backlash is what people expected Awu to become based on how she was set up from the beginning. It almost feels like the writers couldn’t decide if they want her to be brash and rebellious, or loyal and true to the times. So we end up with a confusing combination of both, and different viewers end up having different expectations of what they want her character to be, hence all the disagreements about how to interpret her actions and decisions.

At the beginning, we’re introduced to a sheltered, loved, and carefree young woman of noble blood. Awu is then forced to marry a man she hardly knows, her lover won’t elope with her, and her husband leaves her on her wedding night. This is her first major turning point, and we see an immediate change in her. She matures overnight. She seems to have lost her carefree innocence. She isn’t as bubbly as before.

Because we see this major change in her character so early on in the drama, this is what we expect to continue moving forward for her character, and that she’s going to keep being molded in this way by life-changing events.

She’s then captured by Helan Zhen and has to try to survive, and she does this very well when you consider her sheltered and noble upbringing. In fact, a lot of the things that Awu does in the drama are out of line with her upbringing. She supports the Emperor’s decision to grant XQ, a peasant-born general, the ranking of a prince. She is able to adapt to the rough lifestyle in Ning Shuo. She’s able to whistle like a bandit, much to Xiao Qi’s surprise. And when you think about it, you begin to wonder, where did Awu learn to whistle and ride a horse like that? Who snuck her out of the prime minister’s manor in order to teach her these things? I doubt it was her brother or the princes, considering how useless and misogynistic they are. Her grandmother taught her politics and the arts, which helped her become worldly and cultured, but she didn’t teach Awu what a peasant’s lifestyle is like. So it’s actually a huge surprise that the spoiled daughter of a princess is able to fall in love with a low-born general and feel safe and at ease with him so quickly and easily. We’re briefly told that Awu likes selfless heroes, and so that’s our explanation for why she was able to fall for Xiao Qi. But to me, I think her falling in love with Xiao Qi is another example of how Awu is able to cope with the circumstances.

When Xiao Qi rescues her and takes her back to Ning Shuo, she’s resistant towards him. She seems defeated. Lifeless. We think her time in captivity with Helan has induced another permanent change in her. When Xiao Qi opens the window to let some fresh air in, she calls hims “cu lu” ( 粗鲁), which means rough. It’s something you say when you insult someone for being inelegant, thoughtless, and rude. She scorns the women’s taste of clothing in Ning Shuo, and is surprised when she learns that XQ, along with the rest of the army, only showers once a month because of the lack of hot water.

BUT, what begins to change Awu’s mind so quickly is seeing how righteous and devoted Xiao Qi is. She sees him as a good marriage partner. Her situation could have been a lot worse. After all, after seeing how unhappy her mother, the Empress, and Wanru were in their marriages, Awu expected a similar situation with her own arranged marriage. But instead, she quickly realizes what a lucky hand she’s been dealt, so she accepts XQ and lets herself fall for him. She doesn’t really have a choice anyway, so she embraces it. I especially love the scene during the siege when she tells Zi Tan that she fell in love with Xiao Qi because of his heroism and his selflessness towards the empire, while she now looks down on Zi Tan. If only Xiao Qi were there to hear her confess her love to him so vehemently.

In Ning Shuo, we see Awu begin to soften towards Xiao Qi. She becomes her old carefree self again around him. THIS is something that deviates from most coming-of-age stories that feature a female lead who is irreversibly changed by a traumatic life event. Awu returning to her normal, positive self instead of being jaded foreshadows how her character will behave for the rest of the drama. Yes, Awu doesn’t “grow” like other female characters, but she stays consistent and optimistic, which is a virtue in itself because it reflects her resilience.

When Awu is separated from Xiao Qi and has to protect a city against a siege by her uncle, we see her rise up to the challenge on her own. We see her command an army. We see her stand up to Zi Tan. She shows potential of becoming a “rebel princess”, which again raises our expectations that she’ll become more involved in politics. But at the same time, she’s still a young woman who likes to cuddle with her husband and be doted on by him when he returns. This is the Awu that we’ve known from the beginning. She’s used to be doted on by people who love her. What we have to remember from this siege arc is that while Awu showed great leadership skills, this is not who she wants to be. She CAN be this person, but she doesn’t want to be. The drama subtly reminds us of this when Xiao Qi comes back and she melts into his arms.

This aspect of her character is echoed again in episode 36 when she and Xiao Qi are cuddling in their signature corner of the manor. She says that she doesn’t seem to have to worry about anything when he’s around. XQ teases her about what she would do while he’s gone at war. She tells him that she can face anything on her own when he’s not there, but when he is here, all she wants to do is rely on him.

We tend to forget that Awu likes to be doted on (e.g., remember all those moments throughout the beginning of the drama where she likes to lie in people’s laps. See this post.) This was how she grew up. Loved and spoiled. But Awu CAN be strong. She’s perfectly capable of being strong. That’s why the Emperor trusted her with his will. That’s why Wanru and Zilong trusted her with their child aka the future of the empire. But, she doesn’t want to be this person who has suddenly become the pillar of the empire. She wants to live a simple life. That’s why she sounds so somber when she talks to Nanny Xu about the meaning behind “Mu Yi Tian Xia”, and her duty as the wife of a general and the descendant of royals to unite the commoners with the blue bloods. It’s a tall order, but she’s willing to take on that responsibility for the good of the empire. Again, this shows that Awu is a reactionary character who copes with turmoil that comes at her, but that’s because she’s taking on goals that she didn’t want or ask for in the first place. She has an entirely different set of goals. She dreams of living out another story. But instead, she’s born into this one.

After the siege, Awu’s next major turning points involve her family, and I think this is where it becomes divisive. She finds out about her Emperor Uncle having tried to have her and XQ killed, her cousin trying to steal the throne, her Empress Aunt trying to burn the Emperor’s will, her father trying to stage a coup, her mother killing herself as a result, and her having a miscarriage. In the end, she forgives everyone even after having seen the worst of them. Even after realizing that they’d sacrifice her for power. This is all understandable, even if saintly of her. These are the people who raised her, so I get why she would forgive them. Awu values family (to a fault). It’s not in her nature to abandon family, especially given how close she is to them. They helped shaped who she grew up to be. She lived a happy childhood with them. She’s never known abuse. Heck, even when they betray her, like the Emperor, they apologize to her soon after. Everyone seems to want to appease her. Even the Empress after all she’s done. Can you blame Awu for not having it in her to hate people? As rotten as her family is, they always try to spare her, and they only target her as a reluctant, last resort (even though they all want her husband killed though. It’s weird how they justify loving her, but still think it’s okay to kill her husband).

Awu does make some questionable decisions and judgments though, and I feel like she thinks of Xiao Qi too idealistically and takes him for granted, which can sometimes be unfair to him.

Case 1 is when she goes out of her way to help Qian’er and meets with Helan Zhen in secret and then dances with him. Like what many people have said, they feel angry that she danced with HZ before her own husband. And when Xiao Qi expresses anger and concern over her meeting with HZ, she insults him by saying he lacks a sense of familial duty since she doesn’t have a proper family or clan. This was a low-blow, but I excused it since it was in the heat of the moment.

Case 2 is the aphrodisiac incident. I think this is when Awu realizes that she hasn’t been considerate enough of Xiao Qi. When she learns that Xiao Qi was the victim in the situation, she immediately defended him and cast out Qian’er. However, up until this point, Awu has always taken Qian’er’s side against him. There’s no doubt that Awu loves and appreciates Xiao Qi, but it sometimes feels like she forgets how much he does for her and how tolerant he is of her family. Xiao Qi, an undefeated general and god of war, is nearly assaulted at the hands of his wife’s cousin because his wife has a big heart and let the predator into the house. Awu has always seen Xiao Qi has invincible, but this was the moment when she realizes that he can be broken, and she can be the cause of it.

Case 3 is what everyone’s been talking about recently, which is how she is reacting to Xiao Qi’s rage towards his betrayed fallen soldiers. While I understand that Awu is stuck in the middle, it also feels like she’s prioritizing her family over his feelings. She knows that Xiao Qi is angry, and yet she asks him to leave with her. She has the expectation that he will listen to her. She’s (quietly) making him choose between her and his army, which is unfair, even if she’s doing it for his own good. Do I agree with what she’s doing? Not really. But do I sympathize with her motivations? Yes. It’s taken me a couple of days, but I think I now understand.

Xiao Qi definitely has flaws too (e.g., the contraceptive fiasco). They both keep secrets from each other and try to make decisions for each other. Two sides of the same coin. Ugh, these two frustrate me so much, but I still love them so much.

Overall, people are expecting Awu to be one type of character, but they ignore how the drama’s been characterizing her. We can agree or disagree with her character’s development, but when you break it down, Awu’s character makes sense and is actually quite consistent, which is surprising for a 68-episode drama. Usually characters take a 180-degree turn after being drawn out for so long, but Awu has stayed true, for better or for worse. Do I still get frustrated at her sometimes? Of course. But, I can sympathize with her.

Rant over.

#monarch industry #the rebel princess #上阳赋 #awu #cdrama #this has taken me 2 hours to write #i don't have a life but I have a bunch of assignments waiting for me #rip #cdrama rant #my life hasn't been my own since jan #character analysis #deep dive

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jemej3m · 4 years

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trial (objection p.2)

i love htgawm connor is such a problem child

“So your father was already incapacitated when you murdered him,” Andrew deduced, leaning back in his chair. He spun the land-line’s coiled cord around his finger, looking over the ceiling sconces of his office. The place was definitely built at least half a century ago, and the remnants of its previous occupations were everywhere, from the covered-up fireman pole holes to the sound-proofed insulation.

“When I killed him out of self-defence, yes,” Neil returned. His portion of the conversation would always be under surveillance.

“Way to make my job harder, Wesninski.”

“What good would I be, otherwise?” he retorted. “Also, please don’t call me that. I’m figuring out a new last name. How does Neil Smith sound?”

“Dreadfully boring,” Andrew said. “Don’t say that word. I don’t like it.”

“Which one, exactly?”

Andrew grit his teeth. “Please.” It still sent shudders down his spine. “There’s no time for pleasantries.”

“Fine,” the man said. “Is that all you wanted to waste my time on? The position my father was found in, when I - when he died?”

“Considering that there are extremely graphic photos of his predicament for the jury to gawk at, yes. How is it self-defence if there’s no threat?”

“He wasn’t cuffed there: I was. The DNA evidence was tampered with to remove traces of the skin tissue that the cuffs had scraped away. Have you even looked at those photos? His wrists are clearly free. I thought you were talking about the eyes.”

“What about them?” Andrew hedged.

“They’re gouged out,” Neil muttered. “I hate that our eyes are - were - the same.”

“You did that whilst the two of you were fighting,” Andrew suggested. “Unless its clear you did it with a knife?”

“All I had was his cleaver,” Neil said. “I used the handle. That’d look like fingers, right?”

“Right,” Andrew agreed, just as Wymack appeared at his doorway.

“Could you keep the gruesome mutilation discussions off the worklines?” the old man demanded. “Matt just threw up into Dan’s paper-shredder.”

“I’ll have to call you back,” Andrew said, vastly unimpressed.

“I was going to say,” Neil said, sounding vaguely amused. “You have quite a stomach. Till next time, Andrew.”

“Bye, Neil.”

Wymack had his arms crossed when Andrew threw the phone back onto the receiver, his glower shrouded and unknowable.

Andrew gave it right back to him, refusing to stand as he mirrored Wymack’s stance. “What?”

“First you viciously reject the case,” he said. “Then you drive to see him. Now you’re calling him every day?”

“He’s in prison,” Andrew said. “I can’t just invite him over to interview him and gather evidence.”

“There is no valid reason for you to buddy up to Wesninski like this,” Wymack objected. “You barely speak to your clients unless they’re escapin’ juvie.”

“You’re asking no questions, so I’ll give no answers,” Andrew responded cheerfully. “Have a nice day, boss.”

Wymack pointed at him. “No murder talk on the worklines. Three strikes and you’re out, Andrew.”

Andrew swivelled back around in his chair, knowing true and well Wymack had warned him about upwards of 72 different infringements of people’s delicate psyche. He had a job to do: if someone got in his way, he wasn’t going to be nice about it.

Not for the first time, he wondered if Neil had a contraband mobile phone. It’d make his life a hell of a lot easier. For about twenty minutes he scrolled aimlessly through emails from desperate idiots convicted of white-collar crime, simultaneously considering how he might get a mobile phone to Neil next time he visited. He could go on the weekend, after Nicky’s godforsaken family night.

Oh, shit, Andrew thought, when he noticed he’d lost an hour of his day making plans to see Neil again.

Maybe Wymack was on to something.

“You do seem awfully invested,” Betsy suggested, leaning on the porch railing as Andrew smoked through a second cigarette. She’d come along to Nicky’s Friday night fiasco at his request, seeing as Aaron had Katelyn and Nicky had Erik. It seemed a little ridiculous to being his old therapist, who was much more of a mother than a therapist, but Andrew’d wanted to talk to her anyway and their schedules clashed too much to meet up for lunch.

“His case is simple,” Andrew objected, glaring at an owl that’d settled on the gangly tree in Nicky’s front yard. “He’s got physical evidence of his father’s cruelty, even though it’s been a decade. I’ve uncovered the DNA evidence tampering. Neil clearly acted out of self-defence. It’s open and shut, but no one’s going to want Wesninski’s child out on the streets.”

“Jury?” Betsy inquired.

“Jury,” Andrew confirmed sullenly. He fucking hated jury catering. When a case was on thin ice, it was up to selecting the perfectly biased (or prejudiced) people that’d think with their heart, not their head. Andrew was an excellent judge of character, but emotional evaluations were taxing and laborious.

“You’ll do great,” Betsy promised, smiling her all-knowing smile. “You always do.”

Andrew hummed gently, taking one final drag of his cigarette. Before he could chuck the butt into Nicky’s shrubbery, Betsy pinched it between her fingers and dropped it onto an ashtray atop a rickety windowsill.

“It’s an interesting story,” Betsy continued. “There’s every reason to be intrigued by it.”

Andrew just grunted.

“Though,” she remarked. “I figured that case between the young girls was even more perplexing and intricate, but you seem rather enamoured.”

“Shut up,” he mumbled.

“I’m sure I don’t have to remind you about professionalism,” she said airily.

“No,” he agreed. “You don’t.”

But - damn it all to hell - Neil was interesting. He was only a year younger than Andrew was, intelligent without seeming overbearing or arrogant, confident but reserved, a man of constraint taught by hardship but also a man of growth and reflection. Andrew was rambling and he knew it. Neil Wesninski was attractive, intriguing and completely out of Andrew’s reach. Even if he were just your average guy walking down the street, he wouldn’t look at Andrew twice.

Andrew was fine with that. He didn’t need someone chasing after him, just like he didn’t need emotional intimacy or empathy or gentleness. It was like those nerve-endings had been scoured till they were numb and useless. The pathways were still there, but they echoed a nothingness that he’d never really figured out.

Whatever. Whatever. Neil was just a challenging and well-paying case. That’s all he’d ever be.

He was getting existential and over-contemplative. Betsy knew this and smiled, letting him take her by the elbow inside for a cup of cocoa. It was late when the other four finished their game of Monopoly and Nicky finally permitted everyone to leave. Betsy let Andrew walk her to her car again, warmth crinkling her eyes.

“If you’re seeing your Neil tomorrow,” she said, with a wink. “Tell me all the juicy details.”

“You’re a leech,” Andrew declared, pushing her car-door shut. She waved out the scrolled-down window as she careened off, leaving Andrew to his quiet but volatile thoughts.

Your Neil, she’d said.

Now wasn’t that a confronting idea.

“Suppose you are a danger to society,” Andrew drawled. They were sat opposite one another at another metal table, handcuffs dangling off one of Neil’s wrists, his blunt key being fiddled with in the other hand. “Suppose you are just as marvellously unhinged as dear old Dad. What then?”

“Why bother entertaining the possibilities?” Neil cocked an eyebrow. “We both know I’m fine.”

“You are the furthest thing from ‘fine’,” Andrew retorted.

“You’re no paragon of mental health yourself,” Neil laughed, and Andrew wondered how the fuck he’d got himself here.

Two months ago he’d met Neil for the first time. In two weeks his trial would begin, in his lovely hometown of Baltimore, Maryland. It’d be less of a drive for Andrew, so he didn’t mind.

In two months, Andrew had found himself hanging onto every conversation. At first he clung on with apprehension. A wariness born out of unfamiliarity: he’d never been in the realm of wanting to associate with someone. Wanting someone’s company, their thoughts and opinions, their attention. It was ridiculous. Neil was a convicted murderer in a max-security prison.

Then again, Andrew was the one who knew that Neil was undeserving of that title best. At most it was manslaughter. In reality it was a blessing. Ridding the world of the Butcher, a renowned and horrifically twisted serial killer, was a service to the public rather than a hindrance.

And so Andrew had found himself in a strange position, between professionalism and exceptionalism. He almost couldn’t help it. He wanted to know what happened behind those ocean blues.

“Someone’s been bored again,” Andrew accused, lighting a cigarette. That was illegal but he didn’t give a fuck. Neil gazed at where it rested between his lips, conflicted.

He shrugged, caught out. “You’re an interesting person. Would it scare you to know we’re similar in more ways than one?”

Andrew let a small smirk twitch around his smoke. “You should be more scared than I should be.”

“Maybe I’ll go to law school when I’m out,” Neil leered, grinning. “Beat you at your own game.”

“You can try,” Andrew said. “You’ll lose.”

Neil hummed. His shackles jingled as he reached over the table for Andrew’s cigarette, his fingertips brushing over Andrew’s lips as he snatched it away. For a moment he watched the cherry’s glow, before letting it rest at the corner of his mouth.

Unimpressed, and also oddly flushed, Andrew glared.

“That sounds like a challenge,” Neil said, returning to the conversation like he hadn’t just stolen the cigarette out of Andrew’s mouth. Like Andrew hadn’t just let him. “If you get me out of this hell hole, I’ll prove you wrong.”

“And if you don’t?”

Neil grinned. “Then you lose anyway. Don’t worry: I won’t cry.”

“Good,” Andrew muttered, leaning back in his chair with his arms folded over his chest.

Neil filled the rest of their valuable time with inane chatter about the more twisted happenings within a male max prison: Andrew had heard of similar stories and worse, but seeing as Neil instigated most of the fights, he still found it rather entertaining to be told.

Before he knew it, their time was up. He stood, plucking the butt out from between Neil’s lips.

“Till next time,” Neil said, a forlorn look at the cigarette between Andrew’s fingers.

“I’ll text you about trial prep,” Andrew said, pointing at him. “Read it.”

Neil sighed. “Not like it’ll help me in any way. But fine. I’ll waste my limited credit and battery on the shitty flipper for court etiquet.”

“You’d better, you ungrateful shit. I got you that phone.”

Neil just winked and blew him a kiss. At Andrew’s scowl, he laughed.

The laugh haunted - no, teased - Andrew all the way out of the stupid prison complex, across the car park, even as he blasted music on the way home.

Andrew took one look at the woman who squirmed in her chair, leaning anxiously away from the middle-aged man next to her. It was instinctive and ingrained in her behaviours. An abusive father, then. Or, perhaps an abusive husband, if the twisting of her wedding ring was anything to go by.

“Accept,” Andrew declared.

“Do you have any qualms about gang violence?” the prosecution asked a balding man, lounging in his chair.

“It’s a toxic function of our society,” he answered.

The lawyer looked to the judge and smiled. “Accept, your honour.”

Fucking hell, Andrew thought. He glanced back over to the table, where Neil was cuffed to the iron loop. He didn’t smile, but simply tipped up his chin. An acknowledgement. Confidence in, well. Andrew.

Something in Andrew’s stomach settled. He turned back to the man that the prosecution had accepted. “So you have heard of the Wesninski case?”

“It was ten years ago,” he objected.

“What did you think of it?”

“It was well resolved,” he said.

“So you still garner some form of opinion against Wesninski?” Andrew eyed the Christian Society badge pinned to the strap of his messenger bag. “Surely your god would have some qualms with your inability to forgive,”

“Mr Minyard,” the judge insisted. “That’s enough.”

It didn’t matter. The man was already spitting mad, going bright-red in the face. He pointed at Neil and hissed “He’s a monster, just like his father. God should’ve had him killed!”

“Denied,” Andrew drawled. The man shuffled out of the jury box, frothing mad.

By the end of the selection process, Andrew was sure that at least half of those sitting in the box would think emotionally rather than pragmatically. He settled back at his desk, ignoring the prosecution lawyer’s filthy glares, and tapped his fingers on Neil’s file.

“I didn’t miss this,” Neil muttered, picking at the skin of his cuticles.

From Andrew’s pocket he drew out Neil’s favourite key, of which he’d swiped after they’d searched Neil from head to toe. The man looked at him with undeserved awe, taking the blunt key and spinning it between his fingers.

“Thank you,” he said.

“Shut up,” Andrew retorted.

The court was called to stand: Neil’s hearing had begun.

FUCKs sake i was gonna try do this in three parts but the trial will be a whole part and the post trial too..... dammit lol

next we find out: what does the prosecution have up their sleeve? how will neil’s testimony go? what chaos will andrew cause in the courtroom? whose key does neil continually trace?? will neil be inevitably driven to distraction by andrew’s dope-ass suit?

#andreil #lawyer!andrew #felon!neil #law au #law firm!foxes #andrew minyard #neil josten #david wymack #betsy dobson #all for the game #aftg #hope u like this disaster of a fic lol #can someone please tell me what to name this au #i cant call it the htgawm au #(how to get away with murder)#unless?#idek #jem writes

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crimziedrawings · 4 years

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A Last Chance, Part 3

Immediately, Thomas straightened. “Absolutely not,”

Sophie sighed with exasperation. “Thomas-”

“Do not listen to anything he says, mama. It isn’t true,”

“I know that, darling. Please, excuse us for just a few minutes,”

Alastair watched as Thomas looked to his father, his eyes begging for him to do something.

He did that. He interrupted this family’s grieving, in their own home, and spat insults to their face. And now, the one he’s trying to redeem himself to, the one he cares about, is feeling useless, unable to prevent his mother from being left alone with Alastair.

“Sophie, my love-” Gideon began.

Sophie cut her husband off with a single glance. “I will not ask again.”

Gideon looked softly at his wife. The two of them seemed to be having a conversation that no one else understood. Eventually, he nodded and walked towards the library doors, pausing to ensure that Thomas and Eugenia were following. Eugenia stood silently, sparing one misty look towards her mother. Thomas shook his head and, reluctantly, left the library. The glare he gave Alastair held a promise that set his heart racing. Alastair watched the door close, wishing he could leave as well, fearing whatever came next.

“Please, sit,” Sophie said, gesturing to the seat next to her.

Alastair nodded, carefully sitting in the chair as not to seem disrespectful.

“You are dedicated, I see. I imagine it must’ve been very hard to come here, especially if my son knew of these sayings. He is very protective of his family, my Thomas. You said he was upset with you? If his actions today reflect any of his previous behavior towards you, I will talk to him. I cannot apologize on his behalf, however, as he is his own man and is fully capable of making his own decisions. Nevertheless, I can address him on how he treats others, even those who mistreat him. A mother’s job is never-ending,” Sophie finished with a sad look.

Alastair didn’t know what to say. Except, “I am sorry about Barbara,”

Sophie looked away, but Alastair saw the glossy eyes. She exhaled slowly, composing herself before turning back to Alastair. She gave him a slight nod and he knew that that was all she could muster. She did not want to grieve the loss of her daughter with a stranger.

“You know, my husband was very much like you when he was your age,”

This was shocking. Gideon Lightwood, the real side of Gideon Lightwood, was only ever kind and understanding. Alastair could not fathom Gideon as cruel as he is- was.

“His father was… a difficult man. A sick man,” she continued. “He was an elitist of a sort. Arrogant and proud. And he taught his sons to be the same way. I had never met Gideon in this stage when I was a servant at the Institute.” As she said this, she straightened her chin, almost daring Alastair to react in an ill manner. “But I had heard stories.”

Despite the serious atmosphere, she smiled. “Then he took his travel year to Spain,”

Thomas had went to Spain as well, Alastair realized with a pang.

“Spain had transformed him, had erased his father’s voice in his head, he told me. Though it did not make him a better man. He did that himself. He realized the ideas his father practiced were not right and he turned away from him. But he did not leave his family. He worked to save his siblings, in particular Gabriel who was gobbling up every word his father said, not bothering to think for himself. He never gave up. Not on his brother, not on himself…. not on me. You see the kind of man he is now?”

Alastair did not want to break her flow so he simply nodded. But it seemed she had a different idea.

“And what do you see?”

He thought about it, recalling all that he had observed about Gideon Lightwood. “He’s kind and patient and… honorable,” he finished, with a new respect for the man.

“But he was not always so. He learned. He grew. And before he became better, what had motivated him, was his pain. He did not like the man he was. He did not like the relationships he had with those around him. So, before there was a change, there was suffering,” Sophie’s head tilted as she looked at Alastair with a gentle look. “Are you suffering?”

Alastair was taken aback by the turn of conversation. She so easily changed the topic to Alastair, as if he were part of it all to begin with. He did not know how to answer. He didn’t have to answer, he realized. He didn’t owe this woman anything. But that mysterious ability of hers, working so much like the Mortal Sword, was drawing his words out before he even understood what he was saying. “Yes… I have been for a while, I suppose,” he said, looking down at his hands.

Alastair felt betrayed by his own self. He did not realize how much he was hurting; He did not even realize he was hurting at all.

“My dear, I am sorry,” Sophie said.

Alastair head shot up. “You? Sorry for what?”

Sophie was still looking at him with that soft look in her eyes. “For everything. I am sorry you followed the wrong people. I am sorry for whatever situation you were in that allowed a little boy to think and speak with such hatred. I am sorry that it was never dissolved, that you had no one to help you. I am sorry that you are lost and in pain,”

Alastair could feel the tears running down his face, but he did not care. He was absolutely disgusted with himself for ever believing such wrong accusations about this woman. He was immediately filled with rage as he remembered those that still whisper about her to this day. She did not deserve this. She was better than any of the pure-blooded Nephilim he had met, and Alastair would not be surprised if she were made by the angels themselves.

Sophie moved to sit on the coffee table so she was directly in front of Alastair. “You say you want to fix yourself? There is nothing to fix. We all have a past to be ashamed of,” Something dark flickered in her eyes, so quick that Alastair thought he imagined it. “But we wouldn’t be who we are today if the past did not happen. Hide the shame all you want, but don’t ignore it,”

Alastair nodded, the tears still streaming. Before, he would’ve hated the idea of being so vulnerable in her presence. Now, he felt it was only natural to do so.

Sophie reached out to wipe the tears from his cheeks. “I forgive you, Alastair Carstairs,”

Alastair had never felt so light.

°°°

Alastair Carstairs is dedicated to becoming a better man. This means owning up to his actions in the past. He starts with the family that he hurt the most, the Lightwoods. But he leaves the family’s home filled with a mixture of emotions, after the reactions he received from them.

This is part three of a story about Alastair Carstairs facing the Lightwoods, because before I can accept Thomastairs, I need Alastair to own up to his actions.

Tags: @thatdemonicchild @fairchild-squad @daisyherxndale @lizlightwood-herondale @vampire-mojo-strikes-again

Let me know if you would like to be tagged as well!

#the last hours #chain of gold #chain of iron #alastair carstairs #thomas lightwood #sophie lightwood #sophie collins #gideon lightwood #eugenia lightwood #the infernal devices #the shadowhunter chronicles

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impfamiliar · 3 years

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5, 6, 12, 17, 19, 21, 37, 44, 49, 61, 62 any or all! for whoever you’d like! 💕

hi thank u so much king.

5. do they follow a higher power? what are their thoughts on divinity?

this first one got really long lmfao. the others are a little shorter bear with me.

skit is funny because for all her "i'm a revolutionary" shtick she has pretty orthodox and also vaguely chauvinistic views on religion. she still believes that the Boar, Sovereign is the last living god which is funny because skit has now very much been to the celestial plane. but in her head she's like, ok, well, those are divine beings, they might be gods but they're not really thee Gods, like, the originals, so. only the Boar, Sovereign is God. and we need to kill that thing btw.

Skit is both religious and very sacrilegious in the way that most people from Seapink are. she fears the Boar, Sovereign because she's afraid to die, which i guess is a kind of reverence? but she also fully buys into the whole "time of the gods is over" thing, which kind of grinds reverence under the boot. skit hates the idea of a divine higher power exerting influence on her life. she only wants sexy tyrannical women to do that.

as for amandine, yes she is a cleric yes she is the only "living" devotee of the Boar, Sovereign, but amandine kind of isn’t religious in a traditional sense. she very much views 'religion' as like, comparable to duty to her mom...... (starts coughing). her connection to the divine is very deep and very important to her but also mundane. amandine is mildly to moderately afraid of her God, as she was of her real mother. her relationship with the Divine isn't... completely lateral, but maybe the word is familiar. amandine and her God are a lot closer than if she had been an acolyte of some deity in some church somewhere, mostly because of their closeness and onlyness to one another

but! a crucial thing informing how amandine views God / divinity is the fact that the Boar is not a god that can just take a human form and chat; She’s a manifestation of the Natural, and in many ways, a wild animal. i don’t think She and amandine can ever fully communicate and understand each other. they're both at peace with that, but because of this, i think its unclear to what degree amandine's ideas about the Boar as a God are projections onto this huge unknowable ancient inhuman Being.

for ex, the Boar taught amandine to find people who were near death out there in the forest and do a little rite to commit their bodies back to the earth and their souls to the Boar. but i think it was amandine who started trying to heal the ones who she felt could be saved. the Boar didn't stop her, which amandine took as a sign of approval, but it just as easily could have been indifference. to a god, especially one as old and weary as the Boar, what do a few years or decades matter? they're going to die eventually :)

i genuinely don't know if the Boar, Sovereign actually cares about merciful death. She might? amandine thinks She does. The Boar definitely isn’t the malevolent bogeyman that She’s painted as in Seapink culture, but i think the value judgement of mercy is in some ways very human. possibly amandine saw that the Boar, Sovereign did not relish in killing or kill gratuitously, but instead took those who were already dying and ended their suffering. and amandine saw in that mercy instead of pragmatism, because that was what she wanted to see. so it’s anyone's guess what part of amandine’s religion is just amandine and what is the Boar, where that line is, if there is one

all that matters is that amandine trusts her God, loves Her and wants to please Her, and feels, maybe, that the Boar, Sovereign, in Her way, cares about amandine. but also... there's this other shoe that’s gonna drop one day.... the matter of coming back to life the Way She Did. meeting altair has planted a ghost of a thought in amandine’s head that she cannot consciously think about yet. the matter of why altair came back 'right' and amandine came back 'wrong'. the matter of why did the Boar did not tell amandine that she was dead. so that’s gonna be fun

6. which party member do they relate to the most?

for skit it was gaerokas, but honorable mention to sena because she and skit came from a sort of similar place and had compatible politics, and sena reminded her of her sister. other honorable mention to nethal for being skit’s intolerable mirror <3

for amandine it's definitely altair. undead bffs. honorable mention to ahe (amandine ahe 🤝quest for closure, devotion to a villainized god), and, interestingly also garo. garo amandine 🤝being lost in the woods for a long time, being the ghost in ghost stories told about them (which amandine doesn’t know about so i guess it doesn’t count) and having a fairly private but profound connection to God/nature. their clash in personalities and loyalties tends to get in the way of amandine seeing the overlap there. but that’s starting to change i think. also we will see how this plays out but i have a feeling that the more amandine remembers about her life before, the more she will relate to n’ethal actually.amandine nethal 🤝growing up privileged, Vhurask and Lady Iris being Like That

12. have they ever been in love?

skit is obviously in love with myev, and i think she was maybe in love with daya too? possibly? but it was complicated. amandine has not. yet.

17. what do they dream about, when their dreams are their own?

amandine doesn’t really dream anymore. she stopped sleeping mostly because of her dreams. amandine used to dream about dying, even if she didn’t realize that that was what it was for a long time. it was all distorted and hazy and amandine is missing huge chunks of memory so her mind free-form fictionalized to fill in what wasn’t there. she couldn’t make sense of it, only relive the sensations :) which were unpleasant :)

skit has two main genres of recurring dreams. one is redacted, and she doesn’t really dream about it that much anymore. in the other, there are two of her and the other skit is psychologically tormenting her. OR she’s tormenting the other skit. it isn’t clear

19. what haunts them? what doesn’t?

skit is obviously haunted by redacted, but she’s also haunted by what happened to vega, but also what she saw starting to happen to sena, who had been so lighthearted and trusting at the beginning :( she’s also haunted by when her sister was conscripted, and the fact that her dad almost died in the war. i don't think failing to prevent the apocalypse really haunts skit that much. she's like. well we ALMOST stopped them.... and WE didn't open those portals. so. but she is haunted by what happened to senele (i think that was its name? ahe's town that burned). but she’s not haunted by leaving Val in the celestial plane 😔

amandine is haunted by the flickers of memory from before her death and the flickers of memory or the dream distortions, whichever they are, of her death. amandine is haunted by her reflection. amandine is occasionally haunted by gaerokas. amandine is, now, also haunted by her mother's face and the memory of how she felt in the company of her mother. she isn’t haunted by the lives she's taken or all the bones and bodily fluids and entrails she's seen. i think the only body that haunts her is her own

21. do they follow their head, their heart, or their body?

skit: head and heart

amandine: body and heart

37. what is their favorite thing to hold?

for skit its uhh myev. for amandine, i feel like she's someone who reaches out for people a lot and likes to take her friend’s shoulders or rest a hand on their back or grab their hands (when they are ok with it). it's kind of a grounding thing and helps her feel less lonely. she is also comforted by holding fauchet, who is soft even if he unnerves her

44. what do they need to learn?

god where do i START.

i think the main thing skit needs to learn is how to look at herself -- who she really is without the smoke and the mirrors and the masks -- with self-compassion and honesty. skit also desperately needs to learn to communicate and be vulnerable with other people, to ask for help when she is afraid and overwhelmed. i think beginning to repair her toxic relationship with herself and letting people see her will massively help her feel more secure in her relationships, treat others with more kindness, and maybe, one day, face her problems instead of running from them. this is my sincere wish for her. skit is so so terrible but she isn’t irredeemable and i very much want to see her grow ;;

amandine needs to learn uhhh that puppy mills are bad. she also needs to learn how to let people in and ask for help. she’s not as bad as skit, but i do think amandine is scared of seeming weak or useless, and she also struggles to verbalize her thoughts so would sometimes rather not try. also, we haven’t seen this play out much yet because it’s mostly internal, but she does have a problem with internalizing blame for things that aren’t her fault, but also blaming others for things that objectively are her fault. maybe most importantly, amandine needs to learn that her life before was not idyllic and she can’t ever go back. i do think unconsciously lurking in her head all this time has been this feeling like 'oh if i learn who i Am and what happened to me i'll be able to reclaim what i lost and come Back" but... uh.... rip.

they both need to learn how to face their pasts and heal, to build a life that’s no longer chained to What Happened to them

49. what makes them smile?

their friends and loved ones! fucking with people and dancing also makes skit smile. what makes amandine smile is giving friends little trinkets and getting pretty things, going to festivals, being victorious, and Getting a Good Grade in Being a Sort of Dead Sort of Alive Girl

61. what kind of flower would they choose to pick from a meadow?

skit would choose uhhh tacca chantrieri. i’m interpreting the word ‘meadow’ expansively. amandine would of course choose an iris!

62. outside of otherworldly forces, what do they believe in?

skit believes in communism. and Love. kind of. amandine believes in growth from decay, that kind of thing. and friendship :)

#amandine #skit #tysm... ily <3

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mylinhnd987 · 3 years

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SPIRITED AWAY: THE METAPHORICAL DETAILS BEHIND THE CLASSIC

New Post has been published on http://www.idolpop.us/spirited-away-the-metaphorical-details-behind-the-classic/

SPIRITED AWAY: THE METAPHORICAL DETAILS BEHIND THE CLASSIC

Link video:

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ANIMATIONCONTENT The first detail that is repeated continuously throughout the movie is greed. [The scene Chihiro's parents eat and get turned into pigs] At the beginning of the movie, the scene where Chihiro's parents curiously entered the spirit land and discovered restaurants full of delicious food. Unable to resist the attraction of those delicious dishes, they ate a lot, no matter the origin of this meal. There ain't no such thing as a free lunch, right. Witch Yubaba turned them into pigs, resulting in Chihiro having to work in her bathroom to pay off the debt. [The scene of No-Face enters the bathroom – gives gold – is served] Next scene, No-Face becomes the "richest" guest in the bathroom. The filmmaker built this character in a very special way, as his name – nobody. No-Face is said to be a dirty

spirit and not allowed in the streaming bathroom. No-Face lives off of human greed. Greed, lust, liberty, and depravity. From a very kind character to having super magic in his hand, he turns into a greedy, bloodthirsty man. All were fascinated by No-Face's money, their greed delighted No-Face and lost his humanity more and more. [The scene of No-Face eats bathroom staff – chases after Chihiro – transforms into a pure soul and working as Zeniba's maid] When No-Face had finished his food, he turned to eat some of the bathroom staff and caused chaos for everyone. The only thing that makes No-Face is a pure, non-greedy soul by the little Chihiro. After eating a piece of Chihiro's medicine cake given by the god of the River, No-Face vomited everything he ate, including the three bathhouse staff he had swallowed and furiously chased after Chihiro. Chihiro cheated No-Face to chase her out to sea, away from the bathhouse, where he reverted to his true personality, transforming into an endearing spirit. This detail represents a very meaningful message: Greed will be inspired by a pure soul. The second metaphorical detail is the good and the bad. The land of spirits and monsters, it only manifests when the sun goes out, things of darkness are different from what exists in Chihiro's world. Through the characters the filmmaker built, we can see that kindness exists everywhere, even in the darkest, most terrifying places. Here, the magician Haku, Mr. Kajima – the slave of the kettle, the maid Lin, the No-Face, the witch Zeniba … are the representatives of goodness. If it weren't for Haku's help, Chihiro could hardly exist in a world that she didn't believe was real – a monstrous world. [Movie scene about Kamaji] As for Mr. Kamaji, at first glance, Mr. Kamaji seems scary but his personality is not like that. In fact, Mr. Kamaji was a gentle, kind person, and helped Chihiro a lot during her time here. The image of a six-armed old man – Kamaji gives the impression of good people regardless of their appearance and nature. [Movie scene about Lin and Lin with Chihiro] And Lin, a maid who is always bullied and often ridiculed by everyone, is the one on her side and taught Chihiro how to live and work.

[Movie scene about No-Face giving a card to Chihiro] Even No-Face helped her with the bath-cleaning job by handing her precious bath tokens The No-Face is said to be greedy and dangerous, but when we are with Chihiro, we see pure, slow, gentle and gentle spirits. Miyazaki once said “You must see with eyes unclouded by hate. See the good in that which is evil, and the evil in that which is good. Pledge yourself to neither side, but vow instead to preserve the balance that exists between the two.” There will come a time when children grow up and meet something weird, difficult to understand, but slowly they will understand. Just let children know how to recognize good people, working, they will become self-confident and will shine no matter where they are forced to live. That is what the author wants to send messages to the children through his live video footage. Besides the meaningful messages about life, Miyazaki also builds many details and scenes to reflect the reality of society. [The scene of the river spirit in the bathhouse area] The first is the details that show the problem of environmental pollution. He is pictured as a famous, heavily polluted, and smelly river spirit. The pollution was so horrible that no employee wanted to serve him when they went to Yubaba's bathhouse. It could even make a bowl of rice spoil instantly when it was a few meters away that Lin brought Chihiro. [The scene of helping people pull the bicycle out of the river spirit and the river spirit flew away] The contaminated god made his body full of mud, deformed, and hard to walk. It seems that man-made the river spirit ugly by his unconscious way of littering. He is also seen as an "unclean" spirit by Yubaba until the help of Chihiro pulls out a bicycle from his body. Besides environmental pollution, in Spirited Away, Miyazaki also mentioned that the hot problems of international concern are children's rights. [The scene where Yubaba threatens Chihiro and Chihiro to do heavy work] Miyazaki wants to talk about the exploitation of children's labor. The characters represent those exploiting the labor of children . That is Yubaba – the greedy witch who rules the

land of the soul. She makes Chihiro work as her employees and sends her incredible jobs. This is the criticism the filmmaker wants to reflect. If in real life, they bind the children to work for themselves with whips and threats, in his animation, Yubaba also threatened to turn her into a pig or coal and take her name to bind Chihiro. like people do. To a kind-hearted, environment-conscious, and child-loving person like author Miyazaki, he is strongly against the exploitation of child labor. That's why he included it in his movie instead of words he wanted to say. And he desires children to have their full rights, to learn, to play, and enjoy social welfare. In the film's flow, author Miyazaki has also sent us many more messages about the education of children's characters. [The scene Yubaba comment Chihiro and Chihiro cries after visiting her parents] Chihiro was said by Yubaba to be weak, lazy, and could only cry and do nothing, a useless person she didn't want to accept. But because she wanted to save her parents and get out of here, she had to face many things that she had never seen before. She had to clean the bathtub with a lot of trash, had to scrub the dirty "safe" tub … She was so pitiful that she cried hiccup beside Lin and Haku when she visited her parents. Her strong desire to save her parents motivated her to work and do even better. [The scene Haku helps Chihiro and Chihiro finds Zeniba to rescue Haku] Appearing in the first scenes of the movie, Chihiro is just a shy girl who always needs Haku's help, from Haku helping to hide Chihiro to making rice balls for her, everything thanks to Haku. But when Haku was in trouble, Chihiro found Yubaba's sister to rescue Haku, even though she did not know the danger would happen. Because she knows only she can solve her problems, she can't just wait for someone to help her forever! We must know to do the good on our own, the things that we consider important to us and not to expect too much on the help of others. [The scene Boh] A character built by the author to emphasize that message is Boh – the son of the witch Yubaba. Because his mother is so pampered, the boy is bland, selfish, and reliant. Although Boh is "gianter" than his mother, he is unable to stand up and just crawls around in his room. Boh is transformed into a mouse by Zeniba, Yubaba's twin sister.

Going through an exciting trip with Chihiro to Zeniba's house, the boy can stand on his own feet and cares more for others. It was a message to parents as well as children about the independent way of life that Miyazaki wanted to say. Les Brown also said: "Accept responsibility for your life. Know that it is you who will get you where you want to go, no one else." Each image, every word appearing in the movie has a great metaphor and connotation. Not only a cartoon film that won many major awards and the most popular of the 21st century, Spirited Away also has timeless values, I firmly believe that the value of this animation is eternal and nothing has been able to pass it yet. Spirited Away is a movie that anyone in life must watch once. The film is excellent not only for its quality image but also human values that the author wants to convey to viewers, especially children – who will change the future of the world in the future.

#SPIRITED AWAY

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mscarleighaortiz · 3 years

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Mirror | Self Para

location: Europe

when: circa early 1940s

trigger warning: death, blood, assault

Carleigha had felt lost after she and Owen separated. If she was honest she felt lost before then. She was no longer the sickly bookworm she’d once been. Things had been good with Owen, traveling together dancing the night away. He’d taught her how to survive as a vampire. They lived and loved in their own way. Still she’d felt disconnected, knowing she wasn’t still the girl he fell for, not even truly sure who she was. Looking in the mirror annoyed her and with heightened emotions they fought, pushing each other’s buttons until separating seemed like the best idea. And it was. She love Owen but she needed to find herself she supposed. So off she went.

War seemed the best course of action. Going far away so she wasn’t tempted to go home, back to where she was comfortable. She thought she’d be fine, that she could handle it. Figured she’d see the world and give back some of the training she’d learned while stuck in hospitals most her life. She never expected the chaos. It took only a few days before the tension of battles nearby and the smell of the blood got to her. Her victim was a soldier, likely younger than she was. She tore herself away before she could kill him, realizing what she was doing and ran. Her feet carried her down a dark path, but in the moonlight she caught sight of group of soldiers of the opposition dragging a family out of their homes. Her eyes darkened seeing the fear of their young daughter, small, vulnerable and with the thirst still in the back of her mind anger flooded. The family had fled as she attacked, leaving the soldiers to their destruction and as she stood over their lifeless forms she felt strong, invincible for the first time.

She jolted awake in her bed. The two years since that night had passed in a haze of anger and thirst and it was as if only seconds had passed. She’d given into it. Given into all the dark emotions she’d always shoved down so deep, the anger over a life spent in a hospital watching others live around her. Grief over her old life, the loss of her family. Grief over her mother she never met and anger over the father who left her like she meant nothing. Things that had once made her feel so small now fueled her, flooded her. She rebelled against the girl she once was and gave into everything that made her feel different and strong. The disorder of the battlefield fed into her chaotic nature and she wasn’t the only one.

A group of vampires thrilled by the death and darkness the war had made of the continent enveloped her into their lives, giving her a place to stay and egging on her destructive ways. Trouble was that as time passed anger faded, blood and fighting grew monotonous and started to weigh on her. She refused to look in the mirror afraid of what she’d see, what she’d turn into. The excitement she’d felt with the group diminished and her stomach turned watching them some days. Instead of sleeping like the others exhausted from their nightly jaunts of blood and sex she’d once enjoyed she closed herself off in the room unsure of herself once again.

She’d been so lost in thought she hadn’t heard him come in, hadn’t noticed him until she felt his cold hand on her thigh. Edward. She’d avoided him since they met, something about his dark eyes leaving her unsettled. Now sitting here next to her, body stained with blood, lustful eyes straying over like a beast eyeing prey, he made her sick. She was quick to pull away, but he was quicker, ignoring her refusals. He was older, stronger. She kicked and pushed and his hand came across her cheek with a force that knocked her back off the bed. For the first time in a long time she felt that fear once again, that vulnerability. She could see the sun peaking out through the curtains a threat, a reminder that she couldn’t leave, she couldn’t run he would catch her.

He stalked towards her and her head turned away, catching a glimpse of herself in the reflective surface of a fallen lamp, blood stained mouth and skin she was no different than him. In that moment she didn’t care what happened, if she took them both out that was two less beasts in the world. The skin on her hand burned as she reached up to the think curtain and gave a sharp and forceful tug, pulling it form the rod above and willed the sun to take him, them both. Edward’s scream was chilling and loud and she expected to hear her own, instead the curtain fell over her. That flight instinct kicked in and she clamored for the bathroom hissing as bits of bare skin singed in the light.

Locking the door behind her she shrugged off the curtain and stumbled into the shower eager to get wash away the stench of him, the blood as if washing it away could somehow diminish the darkness she’d done over the past could follow the pinkish water down the drain. It couldn’t, it would likely stay with her for the rest of her days as it should. Tugging on clothes she’d left strewn about on the tile floor she stepped up to the mirror hesitantly looking up to her reflection. Tinted by guilt she looked darker, unhealthy and broken but there was a glint of something she thought long gone. A glimpse of a girl who fought to survive, tried to hope and dream. Maybe she hadn’t died after all. Maybe she was still in there somewhere.

Her resolve strengthened and she let out useless but calming breath. When night fell, she’d run, likely have to fight her way out but she’d run. She’d find herself again.

#sp #Mirror #tw: blood #tw: assault

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trassellynn · 4 years

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Who would I have killed in CK if I were Bardugo?

Before starting, I would like to make clear those are my opinions and my ideas, that reflect how I work as a writer. I don’t want any flames under my post, I’m here just to express my thoughts, not to argue with people on social. I have no energy to argue. You’re all free to disagree, of course, that’s just my point of view. So… who would I have killed in Crooked Kingdom, among the seven main characters? My answer is… none. Just to be clear, I am usually okay with characters’ deaths, I kill characters in my stories too. But I think that none of the seven crows was complete enough to be killed after only two books. Those are my reasons: JESPER I heard some people saying “Jesper would have been a good character to kill off because he was the one who always put himself in danger.” Excuse me but no. First of all, Jesper was far away from being a complete character. He didn’t put himself in danger because he was an irresponsible idiot or a mere comic relief (and this way of thinking of a person with ADHD is nothing less than disgusting ableism, @elliotyulbo talked about this just yesterday). He is a deep, well written character (like all the other protagonists) and he is much more than the “Clown of the Group”. The main reason why his death would have been a big nope to me, is the thought he had few chapters from the ending: “If I die, I won’t disappoint people anymore, at least.” A character who still has these kind of thoughts in final chapters cannot be considered fully developed. He needed much more time to heal from his wounds, to finally be able to accept and forgive himself and to fix things in his life. There are other opinions, like “He is beloved by all his teammates, his death would have destroy them, yay, angst!” And again, no. Angst just for angst sake, with no reasons, ruins a story to me. Things must be done with sense and logic, especially in YA books. That’s why an hypothetical death of this character would have been a terrible mistake. MATTHIAS I discussed a lot about this in my (bitter) article “About that wrong thing” you can find in my account (I can link it, if anyone is interested). I’ll try to be quick then: Matthias had just started to develop. As I always say, it’s impossible to unlearn eighteen years of a toxic, shitty culture in less than a month. It’s about changing a whole way of thinking, it’s not something you can do in a finger snap! Yes, that was a shitty way of thinking, but still, it was everything he was taught since he was a child. And I think his development was more focused on Nina (and, at the Black Veil, also on Jesper and Kuwei) than other Grisha because he was still working in a “safe zone”. That’s what the majority of people (I think) do, when they have to change completely their point of view: proceeding gradually, starting from people and/or elements that are more familiar and close to them. Killing him in that way, after two books, left the entire character’s arc incomplete and disappointing. (And I personally hate the “being killed by a younger version of yourself” stuff, it gives me the idea of regression). It had been a huge waste of potential. And, as I always said, I will never change my idea about this. INEJ After everything she suffered, Inej deserved so much the chance to fulfill her dreams and fight against people like Tante Heleen, freeing all the innocents who shared her pains. She simply deserves it. She deserves a chance to heal in her own way, destroying monsters and helping their victims. Not to mention the fact she is one of the few heroines who sent a meaningful message, since she never put her own sake behind Kaz’s. She was willing to help him but she would have never sacrificed her own dreams and aspirations for him (I will talk about this again in my future analysis of SoC couples). There are so many female characters who zero themselves for their love interests, but Inej is not among them. Love must never be a cage and she demonstrated it in the best way. Killing her would have been cruel, unnecessary and I think it would have sent a very bad, sexist massage. Her ending was probably the only one I actually liked. WYLAN Wylan is another person who needs time to heal from the wounds of his past. He needs time to recover from everything his father did to him, to be free from his abusive figure, to recover the relationship with his mother. I am probably hypersensitive to this topic, but no child should feel stupid or useless for having one or more disturbs (and this is obviously valid for characters and persons). I would never kill a character who has just started to grow their self esteem after years of mistreatments. NINA Nina was probably the most complete character in SoC, but, after facing and winning an addiction, her powers changed, so she obviously needed to learn how to use them. I haven’t much to say, but this reason is enough to me: a big change, especially when it comes after great sufferings, needs time to be explored, or the entire character’s arc becomes useless. KUWEI Kuwei is basically the reason why the other six have been working together for two books. Killing him would have made everything vain. And if only Bardugo would stop to use him just as a comic relief, he could give a great contribute to the story, since he is involved with the Parem plot. He is not a meme character. He is a scientist and a young Grisha, he’s an interesting character who has many things to do, like training his powers and finding a cure for Parem. Come on, Bardugo, stop wasting your own characters’ potential! KAZ

Okay, Kaz is the one that, if only I was forced to kill someone, I would have picked. But as a first choice, I would have let him live too. I don’t think he will ever become a completely different person, he’s very broken and ruined inside, but I would have definitely chosen to give him a chance to work on himself and against his own demons, at least for a third book. (But without building him the unrealistic plot armors Bardugo gave him). So, here are my ideas. I think SoC would have been better as a trilogy so, in that case, maybe, killing one or more of them would have made sense. Please, don’t make flames under my post. Haters and rude persons will be ignored, so don’t waste your time.

#Six of Crows #Analisys #Kaz Brekker #Inej Ghafa #Jesper Fahey #Nina Zenik #Wylan Van Eck #Matthias Helvar #Kuwei Yul-Bo #Haters stay away #No death was necessary after only two books #They all suffered a lot #They all deserved better

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diveronarpg · 4 years

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In fair Verona, our tale begins with LEONA GWAN, who is TWENTY-TWO years old. They are often called LADY MACDUFF by the MONTAGUES and works as their MEITITRICE. They use THEY/THEM pronouns.

TW: death, grief, drug mentions

They win Alvise’s trust with a single sentence. Who are you? he asks, and it’s the same question Leona has tried to force down the world’s mouth until it stomachs it, stomachs them. It was not always this way. Once, Leona knew how to sit among roses instead of RIPPING them from their roots, out of the earth and into their hands so they might draw strength from their thorns instead. Their mother taught them how to spread their fingers wide to catch the light; and how VAINLY Leona tried. With their heart in their pocket and eyes lifted to the heavens, Leona waited for the sunlight to pour into their palms and fill the gaping hole they felt in their chest. For years, Leona WAITED, never knowing what it was their soul desired. Once, their hunger was a quiet and patient thing. It knew how to wait for something to believe in: purpose, pleasure, pain, anything. When it came, it came in an ERUPTION of flames; in an unrighteous deliverance that plucked all the naïveté from their child-like heart and sunk its teeth into Leona’s faith, all with one fateful strike.

When their mother died, Leona turned to their father to save them both, but he buried his head in the sand as if he could live in a grave, too. Then the love in their mouth began to taste like ACID, rancid and rotten as Leona swallowed all the burdens their father could not carry. For Leona would wait no longer for the world to give itself to them. They would force the clouds open and TAKE from the universe all that they desired. If they needed to, Leona would devour the moon whole and let it sit in their belly, all to watch the world burn for taking from them, first. Instead, Leona chose to devour THEMSELVES. With all their fury and avarice and no guide to follow, Leona funneled all their energy into climbing every ladder. There was nothing they could not have, and no one they could not be. They earned top marks in their classes and won the hearts of their peers; it was not enough. At last, Leona looked to what was FORBIDDEN, all that was denied to those as beautiful and as accomplished as them.

When they learned of the pills and powders that passed through hands in the dark, Leona felt the aching in their chest begin to quiet. So down the rabbit hole, Leona DOVE. It was never the high they chased; it was the pleasure of understanding how the mind and body could be utterly changed. It was this FASCINATION that drove them to study chemistry and toxicology in university. It was this fascination — and their wicked, renegade tongue — that led them to the Montagues’ doorstep, a soldier’s hand at their neck as she forced Leona to their knees. This one claims our drugs are inferior, the soldier spat so harshly that they could see specks of saliva on the ground. Alvise bent to meet their gaze, appraising the wild DEFIANCE that Leona kept tightly coiled. Under the light of violence, it blossomed; with an ugly sheen, it declared itself in their eyes as Alvise studied them. Who am I? Leona repeated through gritted teeth, I am a study of how to RUIN a person. In a matter of days, Leona was an initiate. They knew nothing, and were absolved of everything for reasons no Montague understood but Leona.

In the SHADOWS, where even Damiano could not see and even Roman dared not enter, Alvise showered Leona with his wisdom and favor. A vow was made in secret: create something from NOTHING, and they would become a new breed of Montague. He would craft a position entirely for them, with no price to pay in blood or blade — if only they could concoct a POISON that could not be traced and would never be found. With an unholy vision in their eyes and a delight as black as Alvise’s greed, Leona bound their fate to his. When Alvise died, he took their dreams and ambitions with him and left Leona behind. But they had not forgotten the words he said to them in secret, and they knew — they knew that once bacio del mietitore was complete, the Montagues would welcome Leona through the gates of the gods. They have worked long into the night for this very moment of triumph: watching the same eyes that scorned them melt to AWE at the terror they created alone. They thought this would be enough to satiate them — but even now, a chill permeates to their core and the kiss of their own decay lingers on their lips. Such is the price for creating a cursed thing; such is the curse of making yourself a monster’s master. For the only way to learn destruction is to become DESTROYED. This, Leona knows, as intimately as they know the taste of their own creation.

MANUELE GWAN: Father. If only there is a way to burn away the blood they share with him. Their father lost the chance to save Leona all those years ago, when he gave his grief permission to devour them both. Were they to blame for abandoning him because they would not be submerged with him? Was Leona expected to forget that he stopped being a father to them long ago? They owe him nothing, and they will give him nothing. Whatever tie between them has been severed and torn apart without mercy — but here he is, an initiate with a sudden desire to become a father. Why did you follow me? they ask, as if the sound of snarling and gnashing teeth can drown the truth they hunger to know: Why didn’t you love me before it was too late?

ODESSA VERNON: Rival. It’s not her fault. As harmless and pure as Leona is lethal, Odessa would not catch their eye if not for her father. The way Alvise spoke of his children never sat right with Leona. What is there to love about two useless and stupid brats? Of the two, Odessa sparks Leona’s envy most — perhaps because Alvise once dreamt of tying their destinies together. She is the perfect light to your darkness, he once said to them, too proud to notice Leona’s furious silence. Leona’s brilliance is their own; they don’t need a stuck-up, spoiled princess to bruise their ego. Even if her beauty haunts Leona; even if Leona thinks of her smile as they taste their own venom.

ULRIK BRAUN: Chosen. If the Montagues were not to assign a monster of their own kind in their circle, Leona would have carved a throne for him with their bare hands. They would let their nails go jagged and their fingers bleed if it meant Ulrik — the only Montague to gaze upon their ambition with respect — will stay by their side. He is the father they choose, with a strangeness that complements their charm. Your hunger matches mine, he once noted with curiosity. I am the only person like you in the world, he said to them quietly. With their whole heart, excessive and self-gratifying in nature, Leona knows it to be true.

DAPHNE ALLARD: Fascination. Capulet loyalties aside, Daphne is a thief... and Leona quite likes thieves. Shortly after seeing Daphne’s gift for stealing hearts as well as wallets, they marched to Daphne with an accusation to test her smarts, followed by a grin of approval when Daphne’s response met their liking. She holds their attention as hostage without mercy; there is no part of Leona that is not utterly delighted by her. This is Leona’s match, their mirrored reflection. For the only poison Leona knows is bitter and biting; Daphne’s is sickly sweet, with a rotten apple core and the scent of artificial strawberry. Perhaps Daphne intends to kill them, or spoon the secrets out of their mouth like a mother to a babe. No matter. If this is a game, then Leona is five steps ahead; they know just how much bacio del mietitore will rot someone slowly.

Leona is portrayed by MOON GA YOUNG and was written by MINNIE. They are currently TAKEN by JENNA.

#lsrpg #mob rp #bio rp #active rp #crime rp #T #TNB #MONT #leona gwan

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missmarthanightingale · 4 years

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ryan sinclair in s11

basic facts:

at the start of the season he’s 19 (my guess is close to 20), a warehouse worker studying to qualify as a mechanic, & seems to be living independently of his family, though he presumably moved out fairly recently. he’s a fan of grime music. his mother died when he was 13, with him being the one to find her, & his dad subsequently was largely absent from his life, leaving him to be raised by grace.

character traits:

observant/curious/clever

ryan is, especially at the beginning, the one with wonder in his eyes, like his grandmother. he sees glowing shapes in the air & touches them; he sees an alien spacecraft appear & goes over to investigate; he finds himself on an alien planet & can’t help but be delighted. he walks into the tardis & immediately wants to press the buttons. he’s curious & wide-eyed & enjoying himself very much. he’s every companion who ran away with the doctor, not because it was the doctor, but because the doctor was a doorway to so much more. it’s possible that i’m projecting a bit.

& he’s clever, more clever than he might seem on the surface. quite apart from anything else, if he can successfully track down accurate instructions for how to operate a crane given 5 minutes & a smartphone, he must be a pretty competent researcher. he’s always figuring things out & making connections & asking the right questions, & he often notices small things that the others miss. when he’s the one coming up with plans they’re unorthodox but pretty brilliant - i’m never going to be over the use of stormzy in arachnids, or the conveyer adventure in kerblam. he figures out the boat engine in ghost monument, & the speaker setup in it takes you away (i really wish they’d let him be a mechanic more often). he also has a level of emotional intelligence which i really didn’t pick up on until my last rewatch, & that scene with king james. he picks up on emotions, he just doesn’t necessarily know how to act on the things he notices.

impulsive/brave/determined

running out to fight evil robots shouting about call of duty is nothing if not impulsive, bless him. throwing his bike of the cliff was clearly on an impulse, too, one which gave us a glimpse of his temper. he clearly has a temper, but grace taught him to reign it in, so he tends to burn cold & express his anger through snarky outbursts, like we see in rosa, or stranding someone in prehistory if they really, really deserve it. remind you of anyone?

but most of his impulsive moments are brave ones. he’s the first to run after the doctor when she goes haring off to chase t’zim-sha. those moments where he hesitated to climb onto ladders & conveyor belts aren’t just about self-confidence; if something goes wrong, he could seriously injure himself, & it’s much more likely that something will go wrong for him. he’s also constantly following people into danger, from climbing onto the train to find grace to going after hanne in the antizone, to following the doctor wherever she leads, all with very little hesitation.

perhaps an extension of this, ryan sticks to his guns. once he decides to ride that bike, for grace, he refuses to give up. once he’s decided that someone matters to him, he won’t change his mind easily. once he’s decided on a course of action, he’s committed, & to hell with what gets in his way.

sensible/responsible/helpful

for the most part, anyhow; we have to give him some leeway for being an impulsive 19yo dumbass.

i think the best illustration of these traits is actually right at the start of twwfte, wherein ryan finds a weird spaceship in the woods & reacts by calling the authorities & staying with the ship until they arrive - partly out of curiosity, sure, but that was also probably the most reasonable thing to do in that scenario. he’s good in unexpected situations, we see over & over again, rarely rendered useless by panic or fear when he feels it. he might not know what’s going on, but he’s great at figuring out what he, personally, is going to do about it, which is often “enable someone more capable to handle it” by either fetching help or buying time, which we see in arachnids when they find the spider in the bedroom & again in demons of the punjab when the doctor goes missing.

he has a very mature sense of responsibility, as well. he easily owns up to touching the squares when he realises what it might mean, accepts a level of culpability for what’s happening even though it’s barely his fault, & quickly moves on to the most relevant part of having made a mistake - how he can help fix it. when he decides there’s something he ought to be doing, he does it. in rosa, the doctor gives him an easy out from a difficult situation, but since ryan feels like he ought to stay & help then by god, he will do so. i think this is very much tied in to the moral code he learned from grace, whose immediate reaction to people in crisis tended to be “we should take care of this person to the best of our ability, if they’ll allow it”. if you can help, you should help, & ryan is determined to do whatever he feels he should, especially when it means correcting his mistakes, like when he follows hanne to the antizone. he also frequently encourages people around him to do the same, both with words & by example.

grandaddy issues

it’s not a character trait, per se, but it’s an important part of his character’s arc so i think i have to discuss it.

his issues with graham are largely an extension of his issues with his own father. sure, there might be an element of “you won’t ever replace my real grandad” in the mix, but considering we don’t know anything about grace’s first husband? i’m much more inclined to blame it on aaron. we know that aaron pretty much abandoned ryan after his mother died, which in ryan’s own opinion he did because he saw too much of her in ryan. we also know that there was a time when ryan felt like there was something he had done to make himself unlovable to aaron (& probably wondered if it was the dyspraxia), though from the way he talks about it in resolution he doesn’t think that anymore, presumably because grace would have shut that right down the second she learned about it.

i think a lot of his resistance to allowing graham to have a role in his life as Family is born of a reluctance to get emotionally invested in someone who might just let him down again. his only connection to graham is through grace, & he’s unconvinced that graham would stick around if the going got tough, since he has even less reason to do so than aaron did. although graham obviously does continue to be there for him after grace dies, the emotional turmoil of her death combined with the letdown of aaron’s absence has him maintaining his distance for the next few episodes.

so what changes? rosa was definitely an episode where the going got tough & graham refused to stop being there for ryan & calling him family, which was probably a big factor in him ‘proving’ that he was committed to ryan, as his own person, despite grace no longer being in the picture. that was followed up by aaron’s letter in arachnids about ryan’s ‘proper’ family, which probably helped him realise that he does consider graham to be his family, despite what he might have told himself. the next major development is it takes you away, in which ryan finally calls graham grandad; he might have done that to cheer the man up after the emotionally draining episode, but i do think it’s at least in part because graham showed that ryan matters more to him than the reflection of his late wife, which is exactly what aaron failed to do.

ryan defines being a good parent - being a good anything, really - above all as being there. you can make mistakes, you probably will, but the important part is sticking around to fix them. the only way graham was ever going to earn ryan’s trust was by being there for him, constantly, which fortunately was exactly what graham wanted to do.

the doctor:

ryan, of the current companions, is definitely the most like the doctor. he lets his curiosity get the better of him much like she does; his anger expresses itself in a similar way; he can be impulsive & reckless & maybe a little too inclined to judge people. he has the same attitude of “it’s my duty to help wherever i can”. he always seems to ask exactly the right question & the number of times he & the doctor appear to be on the same wavelength is actually really impressive, when you’re looking for it. interesting how the doctor almost never goes off alone with him.

i think he’s also, perhaps because of this, the one she most connects with emotionally. she’s watching him as he rides that bike over & over. they have a really interesting conversation at the end of twwfte about reliability (responsibility), which i’m convinced had a strong effect on the way she interacts with her companions; we see her apologising for letting them down after she’d made a promise at the end of the next epsiode. he’s the only one she ever really attempts to provide with any emotional support without prompting or a situation which really blatantly calls for it. also, not for nothing, he’s the one who saw her glowing with regeneration energy, so i think he’s arguably the one who’s most able to comprehend that she’s Something Alien; he’s also the one who witnessed her excellent “earth is under my protection” bit in demons of the punjab.

in summary, this relationship means a lot to me & s12 should have them bonding over being mechanics.

#it's DONE #now i gotta finish the other two & start the one on the doctor #doctor who #dw meta #ryan sinclair #original #long post #they're about to meet nicola tesla so fingers crossed those 3 get to geek out together

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lightlorn · 4 years

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ABC- For Everyone

late festivities. ll accepting.

A : AFFECTION. how does your muse show affection?

Aerith: See, Aerith is a bit odd. She’s ultimately a good person, and a fantastic friend, but she’s very out of practice in letting others in and demonstrating her feelings. Part of this is her backstory, part of this is just the hard knock life she’s led. For the most part in canon, her affection is a little mischievous, a little chaotic, being the one that goes along with your wild ideas and giving her all to your aims. But it’s also thought, letters written and wishes made, the same care and attention she would give her garden. Aerith is not a woman that shows her affections easily, but is no less devoted once you get around her rougher edges.

Albel: He doesn’t. For the last nine years, Albel has not had a speck of affection in him for anything, living or dead or self. Even his once close bond to his deceased father has soured in his heart to a further reflection of his failures. Tenderness or adoration are beyond him. That said... I think he would display it in respect, or in curiosity. For a wicked man such as himself, simply taking the time to listen to another’s opinion or invest himself in their affairs is a great show of trust. I also think he would, over time, get more physical without getting violent, like a child just learning how to navigate the world. There is something simultaneously mature and overall boyish about this, which is why he does not let such sentiments rise to the surface.

Angela: She’s a healer, so it falls on her to want to take care of those she feels strongly for. Besides this, Angela is a taciturn woman, and I think she uses her words to great effect if someone can coax them from her. Whether she’s singing praises or taking someone to task, her voice will be used to demonstrate just what someone means to her. There’s also the possibility she will geek out about her hobbies and interests with someone who has won her affections, all too eager to get them up to speed so they can keep up with her interests. The act is repaid in kind, as she looks into her loved one’s interests and gains at least a rudimentary understanding of how it works or what it’s about. Catch her with lots of useless video game trivia to keep up with Hana, for example, or basic knowledge of bike maintenance for Mako.

Aria: A more in-depth answer can be found here.

Aqua: Oh my God Aqua is such a giver. It’s in her nature to mother others, to show her affection in gifts and in tender care for them. She’s all handmade gifts and homecooked food, deep concern tempered with constant support, the peak of team mom. While this is sometimes tempered by her self-righteousness, such as her worry for others manifesting as nagging, her heart is as ever in the right place. Her affections are also very self sacrificing, as she will take the fall for her loved ones without fail and try to take their burdens on as her own. At her best, her love is a gentle and homely thing, and at worst she will let it take everything she has so long as the object of her affection is alright.

Braska: Actions. Above all else, Braska is a man who acts. While his tongue is silvery and his heart too big for his own good, he is more of a doer than a talker. This is a man who turned his back on the church and his own lifelong training for the love of a foreign woman, and who later decided to lay down his own life to try and spare his daughter some pain. He spares Auron, in my telling, by leaving him behind out of love, though it does nothing to spare Auron in the long run. Even his taking a chance on Jecht is a leap of faith that pays off in the long run, and shows the depth of their bond. Even if he ought to think things out a little more thoroughly, he puts his money where his mouth is every time he feels strongly for someone.

Eraqus: Stern as he is, Eraqus has always shown his affection recklessly and sometimes in a very troublesome way. He is always willing to forgive and grant second chances, whether romantically as seen with Xehanort or as a matter of familial affinity, as seen with Terra. He puts care into everything he does for those who have won his loyalty, and works to show it in his own ways -- the time he offers others, and the encouragement he shows them. As a younger man, I think he was far more open about his affection, and more physical about it as well. He was less judgmental then, too, and as part of his adulthood affection he is at least willing to hear out those who disagree with him rather than shutting them down completely.

Gwynevere: Honesty and physical affection are the cornerstones of Gwynevere’s genuine affections. She puts forth the face of the all loving goddess, but her real love is shown in simply being herself around another person. She won’t beat around the bush or try to trick others, only show them how she really feels for them and those around them. She is also liberal with physical affection, anything from a touch of the hand to an embrace, and for lovers there is an ever-present sensual element from a woman who must always be above such things in the public eye.

Inessa: Inessa is actions and giving, to be honest. She shows affection for her community by being an ever present sentinel in Lowtown, ready to help as she is needed or sees need. Diligence is what makes affection in her eyes, the time and effort put into others sure to be repaid even if she does not work for that reason. Faithful as she is, she puts goodwill and prayers without actual attempts to see your desires made reality in low regard, something that has led to a lot of her friction with the Chantry of late.

Invi: Reserved as she is, Invi’s presence alone is one way she shows her affections. If she likes you, she will tolerate being around you for longer than is strictly necessary, and without any ulterior motives to boot. Being observant, she might also ensure little tokens or treats are left where the person she cares for can access them, never owning up to these things but responsible all the same. There’s also the chance she invite someone into her personal space or day and that is when you know you have made it with her.

Isa: This is actually very hard to answer because in canon, we see his affection as a child manifesting in ‘I am going to roast you alive but also I will go along with your dumbass idea because I love you’ and as a Nobody in displays of great possessiveness and rage. His actions towards Lea/Axel have always been a little antagonistic, but to what degree varies between his state of being. I think he might be the kind of person who shows his affinity in time spent together and being easily compelled into whatever the other person wants. Given my take on his backstory, I think he’s emotionally stunted even putting aside his inhuman rage issues, and so he’s not entirely sure what to do to show how he feels about others on any positive level.

Kokoro: Local Blue Blood Lets Down Her Defenses In Show of Trust, Lets Herself Be Human and Make Mistakes. But seriously, Kokoro is a person who is all about appearances and keeping up a front, so her affection comes more in letting others see her be more down to earth and laid back. I have said before that she shows her love in being able to admit she doesn’t know something, but it’s also in admitting she’s wrong or made some mistake. The sins of the father have definitely influenced her to channel her affections in a more healthy way, and acknowledge those moments where she lets the people she cares for down.

Roxas: Ice cream and fighting a cult. No literally. The boy is a trained child soldier whose only brushes with softness involve eating sweet snacks with other child soldiers, former or otherwise. This is what he was taught friendship is. He’s got to figure out for himself the shape his affection takes when he’s not fighting a war.

Shizuka: Flashing cash and offered favors. Shizuka’s got shaky identity and self-worth ideals, so they fall back on using their resources to reward those who get close to them sincerely. Some who are very close to them get more genuine shows of affection, the ability to hold them or be held, and heart to heart conversations, but for the most part Shizuka is the kind to pull strings rather than get into any ‘sappy shit.’

Zevran: I swear I am not shitposting, flanderizing, or making fun of him, but how doesn’t Zevran show affection? Realistically, though, he’s very protective with those he cares for, and tends to let them in a little deeper to see the mess he is under the ladykiller facade. He can be something of a good person for them, and that’s the most he can give. He’s still a little too broken to fully form an idea of how to show affection that isn’t saccharine or bombastic.

B : BOUQUET. does your muse like flowers? which ones are their favourite?

Aerith: She absolutely adores flowers. Her people are tied to the planet itself, and the ebb and flow of life is shown so beautifully in flowers. She tends to some both as a hobby and to make some money, and so she’s very attached to them. She adores lilies best of all.

Albel: Once given a flower by a female peer of his fathers, immediately bit it off of the stem. He’s from a harsh winter environment backed up against desolate flatland and mountain ranges, so he is unused to them in any capacity. Still mesmerized by the red spider lily.

Angela: They’re alright, but not really a priority. She’s so used to hospital flowers that the appeal is kind of lost, though she might still hang a few cheaper bouquets on her desk to try and spruce the area up. Show her a proper Alpine bellflower and you might get a nostalgic smile out of her.

Aria: Like might not be the right word, but Aria is certainly aware of various herbs and flowers from the Koccari Wilds to the edge of the Free Marches. She appreciates them as tools, but is not much of an aesthetic admirer. Is fascinated by the vandal aria for which she was named.

Aqua: The land varieties are just fine, but her love for flowers lies in the watery blossoms. She studied them extensively as a child and knows basically everything there is to know about them. Unsurprisingly, she loves the lotuses that grow on the Land of Departure.

Braska: He was never much of a man to stop and smell the roses before his Pilgrimage, so he often overlooked flowers. He’s not very well educated on the different types, but they’re pretty enough.

Eraqus: Coming from a world that was a winter wonderland, Eraqus is absolutely enamored with flowers. His master’s daughter had a balcony garden that was his favorite place to go and decompress after a long day. He is fond of morning glories above all.

Gwynevere: The princess oversees the maintenance of Anor Londo’s vast garden during its glory days. She is a friend to every flower she meets and knows how to care for any variety. Scandalously, her heart belongs to the moonflower for deeply personal reasons.

Inessa: Good flowers are hard to come by Kirkwall, at least for women of her station. The most she has seen of them has come through her work as an apothecary. For this reason, she has decided the marigold is her favorite.

Invi: As the local font of mystical and magical wisdom, Invi is well acquainted with many different plants. The language of flowers is one in which she is fluent, though it has little bearing in her choice of favorite. It’s the water hyacinth, for those interested.

Isa: The man is a Radiant Garden native. There is no conceivable way he escaped being a fan of flowers. Of the many species found on his homeworld, he just had to be enchanted by a dangerous one -- wolf’s bane.

Kokoro: Her mother is aforementioned master’s daughter from Eraqus’ answer. She could never have escaped being educated and invested in flowers. Of the many that her mother grew in her garden, Kokoro gained an affinity for foxglove.

Roxas: He doesn’t know a lot about flowers, admittedly. There wasn’t a lot of time to stop and smell them during his missions, and Marluxia was unbearable even on his best behavior. He feels drawn towards the forget-me-not for reasons he cannot immediately pinpoint.

Zevran: If a poison can be made from it or a message conveyed with it, Zevran is aware of it. He’s learning how to appreciate flowers for just being flowers the longer he’s a free agent. And he’s a cliche who just adores a red rose.

C : CHOCOLATE. does your muse like chocolate? which one is their favourite?

Aerith: It’s ok, but a little out of her budget. Whatever is cheapest gets her vote.

Albel: First had chocolate on the Diplo. It churned his stomach. Disgusting.

Angela: Yes, but only a rich European style or she’s not touching it.

Aria: Humans are out of their gods damned minds thinking this tastes good.

Aqua: As a connoisseur of desserts, absolutely. Loves a good white chocolate.

Braska: Has never heard of chocolate in his life.

Eraqus: Patron saint of sweet teeth. Milk chocolate or don’t talk to him.

Gwynevere: It’s human food and she’s not a plebeian.

Inessa: Had some once as a child. It’s now way out of her budget but she dreams.

Invi: More fond of chocolate products. Loves hot chocolate.

Isa: His body is a temple and only cheat days permit a chocolate/nuts candy bar.

Kokoro: Eh. Not a huge sweets person, but a rich chocolate cake has her number.

Roxas: If it’s not sea salt ice cream don’t fuckin talk to him.

Zevran: Thinks Aria is fucking crazy and any chocolate is good chocolate.

#OH GOD I'LL TAG IT ALL LATER. JESUS. I AM LACKING SO MANY TAGS.#withinycu

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