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ybyag-lil · 8 hours

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I just... LOVE Sunshrine as a ship and have my delusions and HC's about it and I needed to put these thoughts out on WHY I like them so much somewhere other than in my fics or else I'm literally going to explode, so—

Annoyed x Annoyance. Need I say more?

I will.

If we're talking purely potential ship dynamics, we have:

Flirty x oblivious, Denial/Dense, Sunshine x Sunshine protector, stoic vs pain in the ass, optimist vs pessimist, "why me?" "why not you?", Insecure vs showers them in love.

Sun and Moon/Day and Night yadda yadda y'know the drill

Complementary colors (orange/blue) that you can correlate with their difference in personality.

But I hate reducing them to basic opposites attract and other dynamics bec they're NOT completely opposite - they actually have a lot in common!

"Two sides of the same coin" is how I'd actually describe them.

They're both trying to find their own way in life, and the paths they're taking are so fundamentally different than what has come before them.

Their voice-lines about it. Love to read into those

("I'll walk a different path this time." "I'll find my own path." "The path shapes you." "That's the path you've found?")

Potential for shared isolation issues and fear of abandonment!!!!

I feel like Kiriko's life suddenly shifting one day when Sojiro was killed and her proceeding to lose a bunch of people she held near and dear (not even counting Kanezaka itself facing major power and societal shifts) is not talked about enough. The only real personal connections she knows she has left are:

Her mom, who is forced into inaction and can't move to help liberate Kanezaka or save-

Her dad, who is currently Hashimoto's leverage/hostage and she doesn't even know for sure is still alive rn bc she hasn't seen him.

and Hanzo, which, there's a load of angst there HC and actually in-game wise for her connection with both him and Genji that would be a while 'nother conversation. I don't know if Kiriko even knows Genji's still alive, actually? More issues!

Illari's pretty self explanatory with that isolation/abandonment point. That girl's riding the, "I don't need anyone else (because I'll only end up hurting them)" train so hard. So much so that she doesn't even really feel comfortable showing any positive emotions to people around her (cheer/hello/chuckle animations anyone?).

Kiriko/Illari are both "chosen".

That one's kinda out there tbh, but my logic behind it is that Illari is already notably special. She's prodigy that was quickly predicted to be the GREATEST fucking Inti warrior of her time, whose power was so great that she turned every single other Inti warrior to ashes unintentionally.

(which, by the way, is insane if we assume the augmentations have to give you some sort of resistance to solar power to be able to wield it in the first place?)

Kiriko is where I start playing fast and loose. I'd argue her having the power of the Kitsune (which is not fucking science idc what lore comes in the future, magic exists in this fucking universe!) to such an extent makes her chosen in her own way. Like I'm assuming the teleporting around, the self healing like, and everything else is not a standard affair but no-one talks about the Shimada FAMILY being able to summon dragons so. Maybe that's just the standard in Japan.

On that note — they also both have a responsibility to their people which sort of parallel each other.

Kiriko has happily taken up the mantle of a vigilante to protect the people of Kanezaka, and, as far as we know, she has no qualms about doing it. Her way of doing things is different to how her family served/protected for generations in the past, but she still upholds the duty like it's second nature.

Pure conjecture, but I don't think Kiriko's ever felt forced to do it either. There was never a, "you must protect the town!" talk or anything like that from her grandmother/mom, she's doing it because it feels right to do.

Illari, conversely was always told she had a responsibility to her people. If you read between the lines of her lore blurb on her OW2 page and listen to what she says in her origin video, you get the sense that it was a sort of... burden? Heavy is the head that wears the crown and all that.

I compare it to the "gifted-kid burnout" precisely because of this. Illari has always been molded to follow one path, a rigorous one she didn't really have a choice BUT to follow. You're told at a young age that you are special, that there's no-one else like you, that you will grow to become a legend. How could you even begin to refuse that?

You don't. And when it all starts to fall apart, you start to wonder what's wrong with yourself. Illari has lived a life dedicated to serving, and now there's no-one left but her.

She def has some self worth/esteem issues stemming from having to be this prodigal kid essentially groomed (not that way) her whole childhood to be strong and nothing else. Couple that with an overwhelming feeling of regret for failing to uphold her duty as a protector and you have someone who is just completely lost - direction AND sense of self wise.

And I think Kiriko could help with that. Say what you want about her, but you can't deny that Kiri is strong. Imagine Illari meeting her and realizing that for herself. That despite how careless and foolish Illari thinks Kiriko is, she somehow still manages to protect her people as her duty.

Imagine her realizing that she's been taught a lie her whole life, that she doesn't have to just be Illari, the strongest Inti warrior, she can also just be Illari - the scared 18yr old trying to find a new purpose in life after that choice was stolen from her.

Like Zen says to her, "true strength comes to those who accept their weaknesses". Illari's gotta learn that she can't just be strong, she has to learn to balance these aspects of herself.

and who has played a balancing act between conflicting ideals before? Who has carved her own path out of what she's known? Kiriko.

Ahem, back to a few more hehe haha shipping things

They're both pretty capable as fighters, and both trained since they were kids. They're both probably very disciplined because of it.

(I was going to say "though Kiriko is reckless despite that" but I refuse to believe Illari isn't equally as reckless.)

They're both very petty, check out those revenge voice lines—

("Forgive and forget? Nah..." and, "Forgiveness? Never heard of it." Are two examples LOL)

They're both smart assess. Kiriko is Kiriko so that one's obvious, and I'm looking at your Hanzo/Soldier/Sombra/Ana start up interactions, AND your sassy ass "I didn't do it for you," ally save voice line, Illari.

THEY'RE LITERALLY SPRING - SUN ILLARI, BREEZE/WHATEVER TF ELSE KIRIKO

And the two most important things....

They're just cute. Like seriously look at these little idiots, I love them both dearly.

And it's kind of a funny ship. I'm a firm believer that you don't need a reason to ship two characters, and Kiriko and Illari liking each other can lead into some hilarious ass dynamics, so why not?

Anyways, finished with my brainrot spew. If you've made it this far, check out my AO3 where I will be brainrotting even further in the future. Might post some dumb shitposts here about these two from time to time.

Illari and Kiriko's voice line pages for the things I quote.

(some of this, particularly parts regarding Kiriko, might be incorrect bec I haven't read a single lore comic and am going of things I can vaguely remember hearing about.)

#yes I want you all to know I pull up their voicelines CONSTANTLY and steal whatever glimpses of character I see and run with it #This is my OTP and I will die on this fucking hill #kiriko kamori #illari quispe ruiz #sunshrine #overwatch #ship talk #character dynamics

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babymossbunny · 7 months

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"All Porn is disgusting you're evil for engaging in it, kink is evil, fetishes are illnesses, sexuality should be kept behind closed doors dont talk about it im sensitiveeeeee" yadda yadda. God, when the self identifying liberals start being as puritanical about sex as the radical conservatives??? You are pushing the same agenda as your identified "enemy" just rehashed with your "team's" reasoning and mission statement. You are cut from the same cloth as your political opposites. You are two sides of the same coin, spinning quickly enough to show the image of both at once. The more you fight against the other "team" the more you manifest yourselves to look like them because what you focus on is what you become. And all you seem to focus on is this weird, righteous sort of image that you feel you need to portray yourself as different from the other side. If you feel the need to constantly reinforce an identity, it is because you do not truly believe you are that which you say you are. Learn that this world is one of duality but not a binary. Learn the difference between the two. And for the love of God, jerk off every once in a while and explore the beautiful body which you were given. Sexual energy is that of life and healing and creativity and love. We have bastardized the meaning of sex and sexuality so much we think it is only of the flesh and only in the most carnal of forms. Shut up. Hedonistic sex and physicality is good, spiritual sexuality that requires no physicality is also good. Sex is a tool, use it wisely.

#grr sorry i got angry because i keep seeing bullshit in cerain aesthetic communities #coco drama

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thatlittledandere · 3 years

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I'M NOT GOING TO SAY ANYTHING SPOILERY ABOUT P3 (i'm also currently playing) SO DW. but yosuke is also a huge p4 fav for me and i was shocked that junpei became my favorite 'bro/bestfriend' archetype character out of the series so far, despite how much i love yosuke (and even ryuji!). i 100% agree that he feels like the heart of the team especially re: chidori, and i only continued falling in love with him from there!!

BUT YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND I FELL IN HATE WITH JUNPEI AT FIRST SIGHT AND HAVE BASED MY P3 EXPERIENCE AROUND IRRATIONALLY HATING ON JUNPEI AND I DON'T WANT TO START LIKING HIM NOW IT WOULD JUST BE EMBARRASSING

#SFHHFZFJHFDGJKKHFJ #i can't... i can't do this. not again #hate and love are two sides of the same coin yadda yadda yadda I DON'T WANT TO FALL FOR YET ANOTHER GUY LIKE SGHGZGJ #IS IT NOT ENOUGH THAT HIS TIGHT TANK TOP AND STUBBLE GIVE ME GENDER ENVY??#good for you though I'm happy for you #you're farther on the same journey #is this what it feels like to be in the closet to yourself #asks #weavingmemories

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blackinquisitors · 3 years

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Bloody and raw, but I swear it is sweet

something something love and violence two sides of the same coin yadda yadda

#my art #tw gore #tw blood #kazumaji #majima goro #kiryu kazuma #yakuza #ryu ga gotoku #rgg

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sometimesiwrite · 3 years

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Steady As She Goes

Part 1

Fandom: The Witcher

Characters: Essi Daven/Lambert

Summary: Lambert begrudgingly insists on escorting Essi through Velen on her way to Novigrad. On their three days' journey, an unexpected bond is formed as the unlikely traveling companions encounter one another in new light. But will they get through unscathed?

Warnings: Lambert-typical language; pragmatic killing of a small animal (not a pet, for food); sexual assault (groping, not Lambert); reference to gore, head trauma; lethal self-defence; shock/trauma response, adrenaline crash; cliffhanger

A/N: A little while ago, I wrote a little letter to Lambert (you can read it here if you’re so inclined—mind the TW). I wanted to thank him, but more importantly, I wanted to offer him a place in my heart and my brain along with his brothers. This story started from a small prompt and has since turned into a 12+k proper-ass Story. This is part 1. Please join me in joyfully welcoming Lambert to the ranks with a wordcount he deserves with a character who has also become very dear to me.

MASTERLIST

@morethangeraskier

Essi eyed the back of her travelling companion with curiosity as they rode North toward Crow’s Perch: the tight swing of his hips still keeping tempo with his horse’s cadence; the sharp alertness at the nape of his neck as his eyes scanned their surroundings; the subtle forward tuck of his shoulders; and every muscle in his body fine-tuned and ready for action in the blink of an eye. Even his silence seemed to radiate a low buzz that tingled the air around him and made Essi wonder how many thoughts and calculations were crammed inside his head at once. She’d found it charming rather than off-putting how irritatedly he’d suggested accompanying her through Velen. There was a genuineness about his prickly outward demeanor—she felt like a detail worthy of practical consideration rather than a damsel on the road and she appreciated it. Better than most alternatives.

The fact was, Lambert had insisted. Not because she was attractive (yeah, yeah, big blue eyes, blonde hair, yadda-yadda, who cares), not because she seemed helpless (there was something keen behind those big blue eyes, and he’d known better than to ignore it), but because it seemed like the right thing to do. She’d explained she was an experienced traveller, knew the roads well, had good relationships with the innkeepers along the way. She would be fine, and didn’t want to take him out of his way.

“Sorry. Not happening. I’m coming with you.” Why? “Bandits.”

He would know. He’d spent the last few days doing nothing but clearing out Nekker nests and trashing bandit camps all over Velen, and the last thing he needed was the innocent blood of some wide-eyed woman-bard on his hands. “Back to fucking Novigrad,” he’d grumbled, turning his horse back North. He sighed heavily and waited for Essi to catch up, “Fuck me, I need a drink—alright, stay close on my tail for the next little while. We’re taking a shortcut.” As they rode, Lambert gave his new companion a rundown of “ The Rules”.

“No chit-chat, I’ve gotta keep focused, plus I don’t like excess noise. If I say ‘duck’ you duck. And I mean get the fuck down and stay silent. If I say run, run and don’t look back. I’ll find you later. Do your best not to panic or freeze up on me, I need you to listen carefully and do exactly as I say.”

Essi nodded earnestly beside him, her big blue eye fixed on his lips, taking in every word. He wasn’t used to actually being listened to. It was nice. A little off-putting the way she stared, but it was... nice.

On that topic, “One last thing,” he said, turning away to watch the road and check their sides, “Don’t get any ideas. I’m only doing this because no one deserves to die at the hands of heartless assholes except other heartless assholes. I am not Prince Charming, I am not a knight in shining armour, and I absolutely have no intentions of sweeping anyone off their feet. Capisce, bard?”

Essi smiled elusively, turning her own eyes back to the road. “Good. I’m no princess or damsel, and I’m hardly looking to be swept off my feet. As far as I’m concerned, we’re merely travelling in the same direction at the same pace.”

An agreeable grunt from Lambert signalled the end of the conversation and the beginning of “quiet time” which Essi did her best to honour. It was difficult at first. The poet was accustomed to conversation with strangers she met on the road—where they were headed, where they were coming from, how their journey had been. But Lambert was a witcher. Her usual litany of questions were either already answered or were none of her business to be asking in the first place. She was more or less quite content to travel in silence on an average day. But this was not an average day and her mind was bursting with curiosity, which made for a restless start to their journey.

“What’s your horse’s name?” Essi finally asked as they stopped briefly at a stream for water. She decided it was an innocent enough question with a short enough answer to risk breaking the rules.

Lambert gave her a disapproving look, a scolding reminder about ‘no chit-chat’ perched on the tip of his tongue. To her credit, she'd surpassed Lambert’s expectations for what he’d learned to expect from bards in the category of Not Talking. She’d only hummed a little and only then when she was lost in thought, large blue eye staring into the distance. She was an odd one, this woman, with her deep eyes that blinked too slowly sometimes. But his medallion was still and he didn’t have that gut feeling that usually told him when something was off. It was a harmless enough question, anyway…

“Royal,” he said, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. “Never met a noble that wasn’t a horse’s ass.”

Essi let out snicker, flashing her pearly teeth with an open grin. He was abrasive, sure, this witcher, but he was quickly proving himself to be animated and clever. She also believed him to be kind, despite his best efforts to prove otherwise. Whether or not Essi would earn a glimpse of his full capacity remained to be seen, but regardless she found his particular brand of panache refreshing.

"Yours?" he asked with a nod back at the small Icelandic gelding currently occupied with nibbling at some honeysuckle.

"Ginger," Essi replied, kneeling to take her turn at the stream, refilling her waterskin and drinking from her cupped hands. She stared at her saddlebag. “Wait here,” she said, striding to her horse and extracting a bundle of fabric.

“Whoa, hey, where’re you going?”

“It’s alright, I’ll only be a minute,” she assured him as she headed for a thicket.

“Nuh-uh, can’t let you just wander off and get yourself killed before we even reach the first signpost. What’s the plan, Goldilocks?”

“I’m just…”

“Just…?” Lambert gestured impatiently.

Essi squared her shoulders to him, “Going to change my dress. It’s too hot, and I would like to feel Just Right.”

Her sharp-witted comeback earned her a raised eyebrow. It was rather warm, the witcher had to admit. Early summer’s heat glared down with the midday sun, tempered only by an occasional cool breeze from the West. Lambert himself had pulled off his gauntlets, opened his jerkin, and tied a damp kerchief around his neck—witchers were less susceptible to heat stroke or hypothermia, but they were no less vulnerable to discomfort. It was only fair to allot his companion the same opportunity.

Lambert did a quick sweep of the area. Looks fine, sounds fine, smells fine… “Fine. Three minutes.”

He stood guard in front of the only gap in the dense bushes and waited for the sounds of rustling fabric to subside. After two and a half minutes, Essi emerged, hitching up her linen sleeves. She returned her former dress to her saddlebag and extracted two slender, ornately-carved whale bone sticks which she used to scoop her long, thick hair off the back of her neck and secure it in a twist.

Essi squatted back down beside the little brook and let the cool water trace over the tender undersides of her wrists, cooling her veins and refreshing her as the breeze fluttered the light fabric against her skin. Much better, she thought, glancing up at Lambert. This new garment was more loosely-fitting, he noticed, save for the cinch that tied around her waist.

She looked nice—comfortable. She looked comfortable. The dress looked comfortable.

Essi smiled up at Lambert as she stood, pressing her damp hands to the sides of her neck and ooooh it felt nice. She thought she caught the smallest hint of a smile as the breeze wafted a bit of honeysuckle their way. He still looked tired, but he seemed lighter. Something new had come into his rugged, sun-tanned face. Boyish, maybe?

“Better?” Lambert asked. He barely waited for her to answer before he continued, “Let’s get moving, I want to make tracks before we lose our light.” Essi mounted without protest and they were on their way again, quietly riding single-file until they reached an acceptable spot to settle down for the night. Lambert left the travelling poet to make camp while he hunted for some dinner. Essi went about setting things up. She dug a small fire pit with a trowel she kept on hand, gathered kindling, and stacked it neatly to the side where it could be easily reached. Finally, she dragged two logs from the underbrush and placed them on either side of the small hole. It was, perhaps, a little domestic, but the witcher still seemed tired, and he was going out of his way to give her a safe escort through dangerous territory. She’d wondered earlier about offering him some coin for his trouble, especially seeing as he was doubling back and wouldn’t have any opportunity for new contracts. Then again, she’d thought, perhaps that might insult him, make him feel like a hired bodyguard. In the end, the very least she could do was help make the experience a little nicer. She could ask about payment when they arrived in Novigrad.

A loud whistle caught Essi’s attention and she turned to find Lambert approaching with what looked like a squirming ball of fur. Upon closer inspection, it was a rather fat grey squirrel. “Dinner,” Lambert announced, looking pleased with himself. He held the creature toward her, “Care to do the honours?” He waggled his eyebrows facetiously. The witcher had always prided himself on his capacity to read people, to pick up on the little things that others might miss, second-guess, or excuse away. So far, after nearly five hours on the road with Essi Daven, Lambert still couldn’t get a clear read on her, and he decided (for whatever reason) the quickest way was to hand her a small animal.

Essi looked down at the wriggling creature cupped in Lambert’s hand, her eyes devoid of any specific expression. The poet could have been feeling anything: shock and horror, stony rage, remorse, awe… casual hesitation. In fact, the only feeling that wasn’t in the running was glee, and while Lambert hadn’t expected it in the first place, it was still a relief to know he wasn’t sharing his camp with a psychopath. But what was she going to do with it, this wide-eyed, innocent-faced, prim young traveler? Probably some tree-hugger shit like let it go.

Essi lowered her eyes to the wriggling rodent. It had been a while since she’d had to procure a live meal. She could have declined, easily, graciously, and her witcher companion would probably have shrugged and thought ‘no surprise there’. But she knew a schoolboy’s smart-assery when she saw it—the audacious victory behind his bright citrine eyes told her everything she needed to know about what he was expecting from this brief-but-loaded exchange. A shriek, a gasp in horror, perhaps a distressed stomp of her feet and fitful shake of her gilded head?

Essi reached a slow, dainty hand towards the squirrel, enveloping the soft, furry body as Lambert mentally prepared himself to go set another snare. There was no way this bard would ever be the type to—

Crunch.

—Lambert’s face went slack as the now-very-limp squirrel was handed back to him.

“I wouldn’t’ve thought a witcher would be so squeamish,” Essi remarked, casually wiping her hands on her skirt. Lambert said nothing but stared at her with a look of defeated befuddlement. She fired again, her sweet, melodic voice dripping with offhanded superiority, “Was that all? Or do you need me to clean it, too?” She blinked blankly once again as Lambert gaped, even less sure what to make of the young woman who had just snapped a rodent’s neck.

“No,” he answered petulantly. “I can do it.” He pulled his buck knife from its sheath on his thigh and went about his business. He was quiet and brief with her for the rest of the evening, and she was beginning to feel her own irritation mount. She had half a mind to bite back the next time he snapped at her for asking a simple question. Though, she admitted, he didn’t seem the type to back down easily. If she prodded at him, he might decide to leave her, and they were on a different route, completely unfamiliar to her. She’d be as good bear food without his directions.

No, she decided, it was best not to go digging and let whatever it was that was eating at him subside on its own. With no assurance of peaceful conversation and nothing but the crackling of their small fire to drown out the distant howls of wolves, Essi asked if she could play quietly on her lute—not too loudly, she promised, remembering what all she knew about a witcher’s senses, how sensitive they are. She’d asked in her usual straightforward way, her big blue eyes blinking slowly at him from across the fire. A simple request, and one that he couldn’t very well deny at the risk of being a Grade A Jackass.

Ordinarily, he would have jumped at the opportunity to claim that title, but Essi didn’t deserve that. Stranger or no, she’d been quiet and courteous, and had shown herself to be witty and good-humoured to boot, laughing at even his crassest jokes. So what could he do but bob his head from side to side and relent, reserving the right to end it if he deemed it necessary. He’d met enough bards in his time to know that his and their definitions of “quietly” were rarely on the same page of the dictionary.

But Essi kept her word, and took up a slow, gentle melody that drifted airily through the fading twilight. The witcher might even have called it pleasant, as the dusky grey shifted to darker and darker shades of nighttime. Lambert took out his whetstone and, after a few strokes along his dulled steel blade, found his mind wandering. The poet’s voice was captivating without demanding attention—sometimes clear and bright, but never piercing or imposing; occasionally breathy, but always expressive. His eye drifted to the instrument in her hands, no longer content to merely hear the music, but wanting to watch its creation. The taut catgut strings pressed divots into thick calluses on her left hand as she fingered the fretboard, her hands flexing no differently than if she were playing at full volume. But how was she strumming so quietly? Shit, gotta keep focused. Stay on task. The whetstone once again returned to steel as Lambert pulled his mind back from its daze.

It wasn’t long before curiosity got the better of him and he glanced back to the instrument cradled against the musician’s midriff. It looked delicate. Like something that could shatter if he held it wrong. Glancing to the hand nearest him, he could now see she was using the soft pad of her thumb to strum rather than her fingernails, which were long and carefully-shaped; well-honed in that sense, Lambert mused. He’d never paid attention to a musician this closely. They always drew crowds in the cities and experience had taught him that performers on the road were just as likely to pick a man’s pocket as they were to put on a show. But this was different. Essi wasn’t performing—on the contrary, she almost seemed to be in some kind of trance. She wasn’t even looking at her hands most of the time, and from the lyrics, Lambert began to wonder whether she was making it up as she went along. It was impressive, the way she knew her instrument so well. Despite his previous feelings of irritation at having had his ass handed to him, he couldn’t deny skill when he saw it, and Essi was clearly a master of her craft.

The whetstone had been silent for close to a full verse when Essi looked up, wondering if perhaps the witcher was growing tired of the noise. She found Lambert closely examining the hone of his blade, and so, thinking nothing of it, went back to her playing. It took him longer than usual to sharpen his swords. Longer still to replenish his potions and oils. He should’ve made quick work of it. Would have, too, if it wasn’t for the fact that he found the music so… pleasant. It was difficult to meditate. Not because he couldn’t relax, but because he didn’t want to stop listening. He just—there was something about… It didn’t matter. It wasn’t important. Get the shit together for tomorrow, go to bed, get up, and hope you don’t have any trouble on the road.

Lambert laid out his bed roll and the music silenced abruptly. “Oh, are you turning in? I’ll stop now,” Essi gently lay down her lute next to her saddle bags and started to get her own sleeping mat. It was thin, Lambert noticed, as he watched her set up. His long, tired body stretched out, hands beneath his head, as he stared up through the dense oak canopy above them.

“Thank you,” Essi said, now standing by his head.

Lambert craned his neck to try and see her properly and resorted to propping up on an elbow. “Yeah? What for?”

“For finding us food and for letting me play a little,” she said with that same matter-of-factness that made Lambert feel both comfortable and uneasy.

“Yeah, well,” Lambert flopped back down on his bedroll, “Don’t worry about it. Get some sleep, we gotta keep moving in the morning. I don’t want to be out here longer than we have to.” He waved a dismissive hand in Essi’s direction, and she took that as her cue to leave him alone and be quiet.

“Goodnight, Lambert,” she murmured softly before turning and crossing back to the other side of the fire. She settled under her blankets and, after some drawn-out negotiations with a few poorly-located lumps in the ground, she was able to lie still and close her eyes. The insides of her eyelids flickered orange with the fire as it danced beside her. Before sleep took her, she heard a muffled voice from across the flames.

“G’night, Essi.” ---- Essi rose early, but not early enough for her travelling companion. The fire had already been doused and buried, and Lambert’s things were all neatly packed away and ready to be loaded onto Royal. Both horses were still hitched, and sleepily nibbling on some dewy crabgrass as the grey mists of early morning lingered. The sun hadn’t risen high enough yet to burn away the moisture, and Essi bundled her blanket around her shoulders against the chill. Lambert, she presumed, was off doing something witcher-y—taking a leak more like, she wagered as her own bladder complained. The moment he returned, Essi shot up from her log and headed into the trees.

“Just where do you think yo—”

“I have to piss!” she called back over her shoulder as she traipsed into the dense wood.

“Heh, good morning to you, too!” Lambert scrubbed his hand through his scruffy brown hair and ambled back to the fireside to begin packing and saddling the horse. When he arrived, he saw Essi’s things were also neatly packed away and stacked by her own mount. He offered a brief nod of approval before stowing his things, making quick work of the well-practiced process. By the time Essi returned, not only was Royal fully-prepared and Lambert armed and armoured, but Ginger was also mostly packed with the exception of one bag and the lute, which was cradled in the witcher’s hands as he crouched near the ground. She paused a little distance away and waited, observing as she listened to the faint sound of strings being delicately plucked.

Lambert looked up, embarrassed. “I uh… sorry.”

“What for?”

Lambert stood carefully as Essi approached and dropped his gaze, holding out the fragile instrument for it to be angrily snatched back. The musician paused for a moment, observing this gesture of cowed humility. It was a habit, she suspected, born from decades of harsh punishment without explanation, frivolous harm without justification. Essi could sense the shame as it rolled off his shoulders, the prickly-heat of defense building under his skin. She took the lute and a swell of sadness washed through at the stark evidence of the world’s cruelty—that a man should be ashamed for a little harmless curiosity only told one story: pleasure’s not for you.

Lambert looked up to find Essi still standing there, staring at the lute in her hands. “Did… did I…?” he pointed to the instrument.

“No,” she smiled softly, “not at all. And I’m not bothered that you looked at it. If you like, you can look at it again. I can even show you a chord or two?”

“Ah,” the witcher scratched the top of his head, “that’s okay. It’s, uh… I mean it seems like it’s good—well-made. Never seen one up-close like that.” There was a lull in conversation as Lambert ran out of things to say. But Essi just stood where she was, smiling her little enigmatic smile and blinking at him. He turned back to the horses, and motioned for Essi to do the same, “I, um, packed up your stuff, well most of it.”

Essi took the hint and followed suit, strapping the few remaining things to Ginger before mounting. After a brief survey of the area to make sure they hadn’t forgotten anything, the two were off, Essi following behind as Lambert continued on his shortcut through what mainly seemed to be wilderness for the first several miles. They finally emerged at a small footpath, though, and Essi finally got her bearings. They were back in familiar territory, at least for the time being, and it was proving to be a beautiful morning. Even Lambert seemed to be in a better mood, offering her things to eat along the way, and even starting his own little snippets of conversation.

It was an hour or so after midday that Lambert’s ears pricked at the sound of hooves in the distance. Could be soldiers, could be travellers… could be bandits. After a few minutes, they seemed to fade, and the witcher relaxed a little as the path took them into a wooded area by yet another stream, though this one was deep and flowing quickly. Better keep my ears sharp, Lambert thought as they rode along. Water’s too loud. Can’t hear for shit. They stopped next to the water to stretch their legs and replenish their drinking vessels again. The rest of the journey would take them mostly through high ground without much shade, and swampland. Any water they wanted to have with them, it was now or never until they reached Novigrad the next day.

Lambert relieved himself against a nearby tree while Essi washed her face and, having determined the coast was clear, gave her the go-ahead to have a squat in the underbrush. He was still on the alert. It wasn’t a high-traffic area, so in theory bandits would be less interested in diverting from the main road. On the other hand, a less-trafficked area meant less chance of a hideout being discovered. But it smelled okay, although the wind was coming across the water. And it sounded okay, although the water was so damn loud. And things looked okay, aside from the fact that there was only so far even a witcher could see without trees getting in the way.

A twig snapped in the woods behind him and the hairs on the back of his neck bristled, his hand mechanically finding the grip of his steel sword. He chanced a glance back into the woods—Fuck it, what’s the point of modesty if you’re dead? Another twig, this time from another location beyond the line of trees. There was a flash of golden hair as Essi finished her business and stood up, straightening her skirt. She turned to Lambert, ready to scold him for looking until she saw his hand on his sword. Somewhere in the near-distance, a horse whickered. The witcher lifted his finger to his lips and the poet stood stock-still, her hand slowly reaching for the small dagger at her waist as her heart beat heavily in her chest. Something rustled to Lambert’s left, and he turned, stepping quietly as he stalked in the general direction of the sound. It wasn’t wolves or Endregas, they were too high for Drowners, too woodsy for Nekkers.

Essi watched with interest as the witcher’s body went on full alert, his senses sharpening, his posture shifting, muscles coiling to accommodate any number of reflexes. She scanned the trees in front of them then looked back out to the road, marking the location of her horse in the event Lambert told her to run. A large horse came to a standstill beyond the edge of the woods somewhere and Lambert froze, listening carefully for sounds of footfalls or rustling clothing.The gears started to click a little faster as Lambert entertained the possibility they were being surrounded. He flicked his left hand at Essi in the direction of the road: get out of the woods. Quietly. Without a second thought, she began to carefully make her way back to the road as silently as she could, Lambert following, his eyes still searching.

Just as Essi’s feet met the smooth dirt path, a beefy arm wrapped tightly around her waist. But the brute was foolish enough not to cover her mouth first, and Essi let loose a loud, powerful scream that a witcher would have heard at least a mile away. Lambert abandoned his methodical retreat from the woods and came crashing onto the path, fixing his eye dangerously on his target as he circled his sword around his wrist. The witcher felt a rush of angry heat flare under his skin at the sight of Essi kicking and clawing in the bandit’s sweaty grip. He was large, reeked of booze and the funk of cured meat. Essi fought the urge to gag at the stench of his clothes as she did her best to keep her mind sharp, or else risk becoming collateral damage. Her best bet: keep her eyes on Lambert.

“Hands off the bard and you might keep your head,” the witcher barked as he approached. “Can’t make any promises about your other appendages, though.” He wanted to lunge, run him through, gut him and leave him to the wargs... but it was too risky. He was holding Essi too tightly, and there was no guarantee he wouldn’t snap her neck if Lambert took a wrong step. To make matters worse, the trees were full of footsteps. Eight, maybe ten men. Hmmm.

“Oh-ho-ho, look what we got, lads!” the bandit called to his approaching comrades as they began to filter out from the woods. “Your plaything still any good, witcher? Or have you ruined the fun for the rest of us?” The man grasped roughly at Essi’s breasts and Lambert felt his stomach drop as her eyes met his. He knew the look that was waiting for him behind those eyes, that broken terrified look of “I trusted you.” But the look never came. Those big beautiful blue eyes were steely and determined in spite of the fear he knew was churning in the background and he felt a thrill of triumph. Essi was still with him in whatever this was about to turn into. Not only that, she was thinking something, devising a plan. Lambert hoped to Gods it wasn’t something stupid. What is it, Essi? What are you thinking?

As if in answer to his question, Essi tilted her head, seductively baring her neck to her aggressor as Lambert’s options quickly decreased, the other bandits starting to close in, clearly in no rush, confident that they could easily take one man even if he did have two swords on his back and eyes like a cat. Sure boys, that’s going to go real well for you. He did a quick circle, taking stock of their exact locations before turning back to Essi, watching carefully as her hand traced up the outside of the bandit’s right leg. Yes, Essi, come on, come on, come on…

The man rasped something foul in her ear, but all she could hear was the sound of her ears ringing and her own heart beating out of her chest as she did her best to focus on the task at hand. She barely knew what she was doing, but the witcher was watching her every move intently, and that somehow made whatever she was about to do feel possible. She felt her thumb brush the cool handle of her dagger, and Lambert nodded almost imperceptibly. Do it.

With a swift, fluid movement, she plunged the short blade into the man’s side and he roared in pain as his compatriots mulled around in confusion, their fisstech-addled minds still catching up. Lambert took the opportunity and sliced through the three nearest him with swift, clean strokes, focusing back in on Essi just in time to see her take a right hook to the face. She fell to the ground and blinked heavily, her vision blurry and head spinning. Her fingers found a large rock as a pair of meaty hands grabbed her legs, pulling her across the rough dirt road. She scrambled and turned, bringing the heavy rock squarely to the side of the man’s head with a sickening crack. He fell limply to the ground as the poet found her way to shaky legs, the makeshift weapon falling limply from her hand.

From out of the chaos of grunts and screams and clanging weapons, Essi heard her name, “GET OUT, GO, GO!” It was Lambert. Without a second thought she stumbled the short distance to Ginger and mounted, bolting across the river and holding on for dear life. She rode until the horse slowed, until she wasn’t sure where she was or whether the river she’d stopped beside was the same river or a different one. Essi dismounted and only then noticed that her hands were shaking. Interesting, she thought, as she was overcome with trembling and heaving sobs. I suppose this is what they mean when they say ‘fear catches us later’. She sat on a boulder and listened to the clear water, waiting for Lambert to find her.

#Essi Daven/Lambert #Lambert/Essi #rarepair #thank you Lambert #and I'm sorry #more to come!#Stay tuned #The witcher #Lambert #Essi Daven #Bardcore: dark mode

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heckling-hydrena · 3 years

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I know you're an FR blog and might not be the best person to ask but how do I know if I am ace or ace-spectrum?

You’re right, I’m not the best person to ask, especially considering how hilariously long it took me to figure out I was ace even though it really should have been obvious. But, I’ll try.

Let’s get one thing cleared up first, asexuality is a huuuge spectrum. It’s very hard to have concrete definitions and “universal ace experiences” when there are so many different facets to being ace. I suspect this is why there are so many microidentities for aspec people.

Then there’s also the fact that ace identities broadly overlap with aro and bi identities (fun fact: asexuality was included under the bi label for a while before it became a separate identity. Makes sense, really, two sides of the same coin), which is actually one of the reasons I struggle with figuring out my romantic identity. Am I aro, am I bi, am I both? How do I separate my ace identity from my possible aro identity? Do I even need to do that? (another fun fact, you don’t need to do that. Non-SAM aces and non-SAM aros are a thing, and they’re very cool. SAM stands for split attraction model, btw)

Point is, if you’re ace, your experiences and feelings about your identity may not align with the experiences of other ace people. And that’s ok! It just makes it very hard to go “ah yes, I am definitely ace because I tick these 100% universal ace boxes”.

I wanted to get all of that out of the way first, before I got into some things that might help you figure out if you’re ace:

Have you ever felt sexual attraction to someone? Yeah, this one’s pretty straightforward. It’s sometimes hard to answer if you’re not sure what sexual attraction really is or feels like, and it might not help if you suspect you fall under the ace umbrella but aren’t 100% asexual, but it’s a pretty good start. Please note that if you’ve ever been attracted to a fictional character, that doesn’t have to mean anything, and it certainly doesn’t need to translate into real life. Compulsory heterosexuality, unrealistic fantasies, yadda, yadda. Some ace and/or aro people might feel attracted to fictional characters sometimes, but not real people, and that’s normal. And it doesn’t make them any less aspec.

Have you ever had a crush? How about a celebrity crush? What but isn’t that practically the same as the last question- look. This one might overlap with aro experiences, but it’s the one that managed to knock me over the head and go “hey, dingus, you’re fucking ace”. While some aces can still have crushes, I’ve seen a lot say they’ve never had one, or they’ve had few, or they’re not sure if they were really crushes but they sure were something. And aces faking celebrity crushes to fit in is also like, a Thing™.

How do you feel about sex? Ah, the classic. This one’s long and complicated, so I recommend reading through this page on asexuality.org if you want to figure out where you stand on the sex repulsed/averse, sex neutral and sex favourable scale, and what that even means for you.

Do you relate to a lot of asexual experiences? Go through the asexual tags on tumblr, check out AVEN, check out different ace blogs, look up articles and anything else you think would be helpful. If you can relate to a lot of it, chances are you’re ace.

Some links that might be more helpful than anything I’ve said so far: an FAQ on asexuaity.org, including questions about figuring out if you’re ace, some questioning asexuals, some more questioning asexuals, a few different acespec labels and descriptions

In the end, the only one who can put a label on your identity is you. I hope this helped at least a little bit, and I wish you luck on your journey of self-discovery. And remember that it’s always ok to experiment and change labels! No one will fault you for not figuring it all out immediately. Love ya, anon. Stay safe.

#ask #anon #not fr #asexual #asexuality #< maybe someone has more advice

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kat-hawke · 4 years

Text

The Renegade Agent Returns

(Following [Coincidental Meetings])

Looking out across the distant water Kat watched as the moonlight danced across the subtle waves and how the stars above painted dots in the deep blues. The ambient sounds of water crashing against the hulls of ships mingled with the distant city sound as her mind traced over the events of the day, from the office to the taverns. Bare fingers slipped into a pocket, encircling around an azerite crystal. Leaning up against the nearest lamppost, she looked down at the stone as it turned to grey, her breath feeling cold as the satisfying surge of energy numbed her mind.

The intoxicating sensation slowly waned as the depleted crystal spun in her fingers, the brittle edges slowly breaking off. With eyes shut, Kat was content to let the energy high burn away as she focused on the ocean sounds below, but the sound of footsteps upon cobblestones approaching from behind interrupted her mental escape.

Peeling her eyes, open Kat cast her gaze over the shoulder to find her lost agent standing a few feet away. Eyes widened as her heart nearly stopped, lungs freezing with a breath catching in her throat. Pushing away from the lamppost, Kat spun around, tossing the dead crystal to the ground.

"Trist?" Kat's voice shook with denial, questioning whether or not she was truly here. In an instant, her mind flashed back to the comatose vision of the young renegade, and the guilt buckled in Kat's stomach.

With pursed lips and furrowed brows, Tristana watched the crystal shatter on the cobblestone before looking back to Kat from under the hood. Her features the same as Kat remembered, with the addition of a faint scar across one cheek. A lasting memoir of the agent's participation in the Siege of Lordaeron.

"Thought you'd be slightly less surprised to see me." She spoke with little movement of the body.

"Two years ago, perhaps no'." Kat stifled a single chuckle, thinking back to how often Tristana would be lurking in her shadow. "But ya' can't fault me for startin' to doubt, after all this time. Granted, I never, truly, believed ya' were dead... Despite wot others chose to think."

"Life is often easiest lived by the ghosts." Tristana rolled her shoulders in a small shrug, her rigid posture and expressionless mask betraying very little to her thoughts. "You wouldn't take the opportunity to disappear, were it given so easily to you?"

Kat glanced towards the harbor with a gentle hum, mulling over the query. "I've spent most of m'life in the shadows, one way or another. Hidin' who I truly am, or simply hidin' outright." Slowly her gaze drifted back to Tristana. "Sure, it's easy, at first that is. But the other side of the coin is that ya' can miss just as much. I was in a coma for the last couple of months, that puts things in perspective, a real blink-and-ya'-miss-it sort of way." With a slow, deep breath, she gave a shallow shrug. "Runnin' away never solved anything, I think I'd do more harm than good if I were to disappear on everyone."

"That explains some things." Tristana's hood shifted as her head cocked faintly to one side, her eyes trained on Kat as she deliberated over the conversation. "It must be nice to have those who would miss you out of more than just guilt of not doing enough."

"Everyone wants something sooner or later." Kat arched a brow, staring inquisitively. "Sure, some would miss, but in time we all fade into the wind. It's no' like I have a family to devastate or abandon."

"That is one way to justify it." Tristana nodded slowly, fingers of her left hand twitched at her side, curling inwards before relaxing again. "So, a long absence... multiple months in a coma... have they forced you to step down from your position yet?"

Kat snorted quietly in amusement, shaking her head. "I feel like th' over m'dead body joke would be in poor taste here. Short answer is that it's complicated, someone else was appointed in my absence, and now there is a power struggle: that and the typical post-war bullshit. Shrinking funds, military efforts scaling back, people have nowhere t'go, yadda yadda yadda. For now, I have t'play nice. Things were pretty bad prior t'the coma for everyone. So..."

She trails off with a long exhale before vaguely motioning in Trist's direction. "Are ya' inquirin' if yer still employed, or just lookin' for an open window to try and prod me on failure?"

"Hm. I find it hard to imagine you playing nice - or playing by the rules, for that matter." The young agent's hand lifted to pull back the hood, giving a soft snort at Kat's query. "Can it not be both?" She drew her bottom lip between her teeth, deliberating a little longer before giving an actual answer. "Can't say I've given the idea much thought."

"I can play nice when I want to. As far as rules go, well..." Shrugging, Kat left the sentence unfinished with a subtle smirk, quickly moving on.

"And while it could be both, I'm willin' t'wager ya've been out of the loop enough to know of my failures. Aside from the obvious one, I wouldn't blame ya' fer still harborin' some level of spite. Shadows know I still hold guilt over it." Quickly scanning Tristana's leathers, Kat opted to push to call her bluff. "I find it hard t'believe it didn' cross yer mind more than once. I also can't think of more than two or three other reasons as t'why ya'd approach me after so long."

"Some things are just better off not dwelled upon," Tristana answered in a mildly cautious tone.

"Fair enough." Kat crossed her arms, glancing down at the cobblestone.

"And if I were to be interested?"

"If ya' were," Kat's gaze drifted upward to Tristana again. "Then ya'd find a rather decent amount of money tucked away. I was able to secure every third paycheck of yer's into a private account under a half-faked name. While the paperwork would be rather strenuous, it would be possible to reinstate yer rank, but nothin' I wouldn't be willin' to do. However, things are a bit different now, budget cuts and rollbacks, our work is less in the public domain."

"Understanding that this job has nearly cost me my life on more than a handful of occasions, gold is not a terribly exciting lure." Tristana slowly shook her head. "Hard to spend it from six feet under."

Kat pursed her lips with a faint nod. Judging by the armor's condition the woman wore, she had assumed money was no longer an issue. In truth, she had not expected that offer to be received openly, remembering that Tristana was never in it for the pay, but rather the broken and empty promises Kat had repeatedly made to her.

"What dreams are you selling people these days? Surely has to be more than 'come and be cannon fodder for a weekly paycheck."

Dropping her gaze to the street with a low-toned hum, Kat bit the corner of her lip as the head bobbed slowly. "I deserved that," she uttered the admittance in an exhale, looking up to Tristana again. That single sentence stung more than she let one.

"Shouldn't be any cannon fodder, and I'm no' sellin' dreams. I won't make excuses, and ya' have every right t'hold that against me. I don't expect ya' to trust me right away. It's earned. I get that." Fingers lifted off the crossed arm to pause her rambling, holding in a deep breath before exhaling and speaking again. "I won't make promises, but I will do woteva I can, in yer best interest. I'm no' here t'force anything; everyone is here of their own volition."

Short of scoffing, Tristana gave Kat a stiff shrug. "Actions have always spoken with far more truth than words... and you've always had a way with talking." Now she crossed her arms, mirroring the Director's stance with a cold gaze. "But I suppose the tides have changed. With Lordaeron considered, I'd say I don't owe you any favors now. Question is, are you making the offer out of guilt or because you have actual need for me?"

With a pained expression at the mention of Lordaeron, Kat's guilt was spoken just above a whisper. "I shouldn' have done that to ya'."

She moved on with an exhale in silent defeat, arms uncrossing and hand moving subtly as she spoke. "Would ya' believe me if I said one or the other, or perhaps both? Truth be told, Trist, I feel like I owe it t' ya' to do right. I fucked up more than once before, and I'll own that. But honestly, despite wot ya' may think of me, I did and still do like ya'. Yer potential and talent, ya' sell yerself short. Do I need ya'? Of course I do. But no' fer some project or misplaced projections. I need ya' because back then ya' were one of the very few worth that badge."

"To be fair, the bar of standards was set -really- low at that point. I hope it's improved since then." Tristana muttered back in response.

"It's improved greatly, yes." Kat couldn't help the smirk curling the corners of her lips. "If ya' don't count the barmaid, though she's not an operative. But there are only five others, and I don't plan on adding any more. I strayed too far from our roots before, and I don't want to make that mistake again. I still mean it when I say th' Unit is my family, and if that means dyin' t'protect it, then so be it."

"Good," Tristana stated, appearing to be more or less satisfied with that answer. "Suppose I might be willing to lend a hand then."

"I assume ya' still have yer badge?" Kat inquired with a smile.

Tristana procured the badge from a pocket on her side with a flick of her hand, flipping the tarnished yet undamaged metal in her fingers. "Just in case. Sometimes it came in handy for getting discounts."

I'm no' too surprised," Kat admitted with a mirthful expression. "Honestly, I'd have done th'same. I'm sure it would also loosen some lips. It's a little worn, but nothing a little polish won't fix, much better than expensing out a new one." Glancing towards the water for a second, Kat mulled over the thought of where the young agent had been for the last two years and what she had gotten into. It wasn't long before the guilt began to chew into the thoughts again, wondering now if Tristana was playing at her own angle.

"Well, couldn't exactly throw it out," Tristana said as she pocketed the badge. "Who knows what someone might have gotten up to with it if it fell into the wrong hands."

"I'll start the paperwork in the mornin'," Kat stated, looking back to the agent. "It'll take a few days to get everythin' sorted proper, but I'll be sure it's done." Pausing for a second, she debated whether or not to pose the next query. "Is there anythin' ya' want, from this?"

"Everyone wants something sooner or later." Tristana echoed the statement from earlier with a faint upturning of the corners of her lips. "But for now, I'll content myself with just purpose."

Kat's lips pursed to one side at the answer she was given, not entirely content with it, but aware that was deliberate Tristana's part. "Fair enough. Once the paperwork is finished, I'll be in touch, and we'll go from there. Cases are few at the moment, hindered mostly by the shrinking funds, but never a lack of work to be done."

"I'll be around," Tristana mused as she pulled up her hood. "Should you require me. I'm sure you'd need only to lob a rock at the nearest shadows."

"Old habits die hard, I suppose." Masking any sense of unease with a chuckle, remembering back to how often the agent managed to come across knowledge she shouldn't have. "I may no' be as entertainin' as I once was t'watch, though. Good night, Agent Sutton."

Tristana lifted her hand in a gesture that was halfway between a salute and a wave of farewell as she turned on her heel and ventured back into the city streets. "Goodnight."

In the silence, Kat watched as Tristana moved further away until out of sight around the furthest corner. With a contemplative hum, she turned to face the open ocean again, leaning a shoulder against the lamppost. The sudden urge for a drink began to churn as her nerves twitched, knowing full well that revealing the agent was not only alive but reinstated would send Fiske into a frenzy.

[ @tristanasneak ] [ Relevant: @myzariel, @nikkithorpe, @lovelydeadlysocialite, @jocelyn-wellson, @quinn-varden ]

#ic #rp #Unit Eight #Agent Sutton #The Renegade Agent

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audrey-redheart · 4 years

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Two sides of the same coin ~ Muse is split, yadda yadda, you know the drill.

Suddenly, her head aches. Audrey grips the side of her head and doubles over.

Poof.

Suddenly, there’s two different versions of Audrey.

☽ One of them is completely greyscale; The figure is crying.

❥ The other seems pretty content. They immediately go over to hug the crying Audrey in an attempt to soothe it. Their efforts aren’t really going through to it.

[Open- @bright-steven @spoopedsteven @murderous-audrey-redheart @protag-miriam @solarspinel @itsthecupbros @amity-blight-witch @defensive-steven @downhearted-steven-universe @All!~]

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doribuki · 5 years

Photo

princesses of heart.

just an excuse to practice head shapes/forefuclly knock myself out of the sameface rut ive bee falling into, and to explore some headcanons

when princesses of heart do Big Heart/Light Things, their pupils start doing a big glow thing. you can probably tell it better with others, but the glow is a very faint yellow, because darkness and light are two sides of the same coin yadda yadda, SPOOKY GLOW GIRLS GO

#kh tag #i did an art

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miraimisu · 5 years

Text

GUESS WHO’S DONE WITH THE THIRD INSTALLMENT OF THIS BEHEMOTH

/spins chair dramatically: MOI

So like the thing is I AM done with the fic on theoretical terms because all the buddy building and world building and THE WHOLE HOUSE IS BUILT BUT IT NEEDS A CEILING AND FLOWERS and all that nice stuff so I WILL BE WORKING ON THAT. After the fic is done completely, I will have to beta it, fill in a few gaps and probably correct some parts that need some revamping to fit the tone of the story and all that jazz

yadda yadda yadda

SO for [spoiler] reasons I cannot show a snippit for this arc as much as I would love to because it has SO MUCH OF THAT GOOD BUDDY STUFF /chef kiss, so instead what I’ll show is the VERY VERY VERY beginning of this fic-- this is the beginning of the VERY first chapter!

This will probably be due to corrections and stuff but this is how it looks, from back when I wrote it in July! Please enjoy! <3

Chapter 1 | Ludwig Town

If there is one thing Gladion is good at, it should be sneaking around and not being noticed by unwarranted enemies. He has lived his whole life hiding from any offenses and leading a modest life in the small campsite of Ludwig Town, where everything is soil, golden wheat and modest merchants ambling about.

But sometimes, his patience is worn thin and not everything is merchants and wheat, but criminals and people clad in costumes that look stolen from a sunken pirate ship.

Two bodies collapse on the group simultaneously as Gladion cleans the blade of his silver sword with the hem of his dark shirt, the metal catching the dim sunlight of the sinking sun. “I told you I didn’t want to hurt you, but I really don’t enjoy being chased around for a pair of pennies, especially when this town is this poor. Have some decency and stop harassing me.”

The two bandits scramble away from the man, panic dripping from the way they tremble and look up at him with wide, round eyes. The two like fairly similar, wearing red and black and orange and a very suspicious cloth over their mouths, which muffles their words as they try to fight him verbally. “Dude, who the hell are you? We just wanted to talk! No need to try and beat us to a pulp, it was so unnecessary!”

“Right, and that’s why I assume you have been chasing kids in this town for their bread money; just to talk, am I right?” Sword sheathed, he puts his hands on his hips. “Also, nice of you to admit that you did get beaten. But I couldn’t care less about what you wanted to do.”

Gladion had been running from these two guys for around half an hour before he had gotten tired and handled things on his own way. Aggressivity is not in his DNA, nor is being so confrontational, but he really is pissed at these people. He has seen them around town harassing little kids for their pocket money and in his passiveness, Gladion had refused to do anything, no matter how guilty he felt after the fact.

But they had poked him in the wrong places when they asked for money. If anything, they should have been glad he chose to run away instead of taking out his sword. Daggers and swords don’t mix well, if their wounds and precisely cut bruises are any proof of that.

They had proven themselves to be pretty clumsy. Useless criminals without jobs wanting some money. What a waste of space.

In due time, the criminals pick themselves up and stand on their feet. Gladion’s hand is slanted on the handle of his trusty sword -- Silvally, he had named it -- in a silent warning, green eyes sparkling with threat. The bandits don’t look like they are about to ask for his money again, though.

“Dude, you definitely got the guts,” says one of them, moving their hands around as they speak in a manner Gladion can only classify as obnoxious. Walking migraines is what they are. “You could join us. Y’know, get on boats and pillage some losers. We go on sick adventures all over the Kandrus Dominion. Our boss is a really rich guy!”

Their misconception that wealth equals power really amuses him. Judging by the disarrayed state of their clothes and how their daggers are rusty at the edges, Gladion can confidently say that they don’t look rich or powerful. They look like some grunts taken out from some history book, those with mossy edges and dusty pages.

“I don’t really care about how much you make out of other people’s misery, or how nice and rich your boss is. I'm going on a big journey tomorrow and I need my coins.” They hadn’t asked for his life story but Gladion hopes they will understand he really can’t be bothered today. “I was in a good mood until you two came by. You could have spared yourself the battle and left me alone.”

A trembling whimper comes from one of them. “Can someone like you even be in a good mood? What even is a good mood for you?”

“Clearly the opposite of what I’m feeling right now, so scram already or I’ll chop you into tiny bite pieces.” Hand curled around the leather handle of his sword, he takes out the blade just a little. “We can spar if you want. I’ll count down to ten.”

The bandits take a step back, hands shaking with eyes wide as saucers. “Dude, what’s wrong with you? Threatening people like us, belonging to the fearsome company of the Bla--”

“One, two…”

When they realize Gladion is being serious, they make the smart decision of running for their lives and leaving him in peace, which prompts him to keep his sword in and sigh, rolling his shoulders until a small crack rings through the soreness. It has been a long day, running errands all over the town to grab some extra coins and have his gear in check. He deserves some rest, to sleep the jitters and excitement for tomorrow off.

He realizes that he is pretty close to his house and parts in that direction, stretching his arms letting his legs loosen up after the long chase.

Ludwig Town is fairly small in comparison to other towns -- or, at least, the many maps he has read say that, because he has never been out of his small town ever since he was a kid. It’s all houses, farms, windmills and a lake to the right. Everything is close together and the people are amicable. It’s just right for his needs.

He has always lived here for as long as he could remember, yet he knows he used to have a family. He lives with his godfather, a scientist from a faraway city that had run away at the wake of war, but he used to have a mother and a sister, that much he knows.

He isn’t sure where they could be, but as years had gone by, he had begun to find Ludwig Town too small, too familiar. The lack of a real family had fed his previously mild nostalgia until it became real longing to search for them, if they are alive. Someone has to know something.

Nobody in this town knows anything, but someone for sure must know where they are; out there, somewhere.

Gladion enters his home. “Good evening.” Nobody answers, but he doesn’t mind the absence of his godfather; the latter is rarely in the house himself. He is usually busy looking after his clients in homes as a doctor or working with pharmacies for a quick coin. This evening is no exception.

The house is quaint, small and packed with everything he needs, A small sofa, a bookcase, potted plants everywhere he can see and a little kitchenette. His room is to the right and his godfather’s is to the left, a bathroom at the end of the hallway. The chimney is on, indicating the house had had company shortly before.

Gladion walks to a narrow coffee table between bookshelves, where not only a potted plant stands, but also a small medallion with green, black and golden on the edges. He’s not sure what it is meant to signify, but his godfather had found it in his old clothes one day and told him to keep it.

It’s a very odd piece of jewelry. It has a golden chain attached to it, so shiny it must be worth several bags of coins, but he has always refused to let go of it. It has a little hole on the right side where a wire or maybe a little key could fit, but nothing he has tried ever opens it.

Under the medallion is a photograph he would be taking to his adventure. The image is washed in sepia and blurs of white, very likely caused by time and aging. The faces of the two women by his side are blurred and unrecognizable, along with their clothes and their hands.

Gladion’s face is barely recognizable. The only thing that lets him know it’s him in the photograph is the trademark spring of his uneven fringe, which he keeps around to this day.

The tall woman’s hair is long and possibly blonde, and the little girl by his and her side has also long hair and flowers on her head. The image radiates certain raw energy he can’t quite explain.

The door clicks open as his godfather makes his way in, throwing shadows over the entire home. “Ah, Gladion. Glad to see you made it here safe and sound. I heard from Miss Delabrié that you were cornered by some criminals earlier.”

Gladion turns around. Faba, his godfather, still wears the same green and white lab coat and turtleneck under it. He knows the clothes are very expensive, so much so he does not look like a Ludwig citizen. The round glasses sit on his nose without a speck of dust to cloud them.

The other nods curtly. “I took care of them already. They have been causing a lot of trouble lately.”

Faba looks at him in earnest curiosity, head tilted slightly. Despite his known position as a man of science and utmost precision, he is mostly clueless about Gladion’s dedication to his sword mastery. “I assume you did not get hurt in that endeavor, did you?”

“I’m the best swordsman in this village. Of course I didn’t.” He is evidently confident in his abilities, and Faba is just as pleased by this claim. His nod radiates satisfaction and posedness, very much to be expected from a man just as proud of his own abilities. “I didn’t want them to take my coins. Tomorrow is the big day, after all.”

—

and that’s all I can show without spoiling anything but just know that in this household we agree that Faba is an absolute [redacted] and we are gonna keep it that way

#lonashipping #also all of the world build is gonna be this detailed because I have this world VERY internalized SO #also Moon comes up a little after so it's okay don't despair #in this fic we go from -30 to 100000 and that's the shit I'm about #but I wanted to give some info about his background (just a little)#so take my little appetizer jhgbjfslpa #ANYWAY BYE

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kyokajiro-imagines · 5 years

Text

The league of Disney Villains part 2:

A/n: this is really long but totally worth reading!

[In the same industrial shed as the last part]

Hawks: *Is standing on pile of crates- The rest of the league are standing around*

Hawks: ALRIGHT! Votes are in for the cast places and scene recreations we’ll be doing from our first movie- Cinderella!

Shigaraki: The *bleep*.

Dabi: I second that notion.

Toga: Can I stab someone in it?!

Hawks: No-

Mr Compress: I’m looking forward to this- We should have fun.

Hawks: That’s the spirit!

Spinner: I refuse to waste my limited life on this- *Twice pokes him*

Twice: If you voted for who I did then this should be fun! > If you didn’t vote for them then this will totally suck.

Shigaraki: If any of you morons voted for me as the princess I’ll disintegrate-

Hawks: STOP! Come on guys, we’re having fun! I’ll announce the rolls.

Dabi: Kill me now.

Hawks: As the fairy godmother- SHIGARAKI. *Is trying to hold in his laughter as everyone howls with laughter- Twice and Spinner high five. Shigaraki looks lost, angry and confused all at once*

Toga: PLEASE CAN I STAB SOMEONE?!

Shigaraki: Why is that relevant?!

Toga: It just is-

Hawks: NEXT! As the Prince- Twice!

Twice: GET READY FOR THE MOST CHARMING, MOST CAPTIVATING, MOST DEVISHLY HANDSOME- > This whole thing is a moronic- I won’t act for this!

Spinner: HAHA!

Mr Compress: Oh dear who’s the unlucky main?

Hawks: I don’t know- *Pulls paper out to check- Pauses, tries not to laugh, fails- Spends next 5 minutes on the ground crying from laughter*

Dabi: You right there?

Hawks: Fine- Alright- *Gets up* Ok- Our main star of this recreation as Cinderella is- *Covers mouth, winces and proceeds to stop laughter*

Hawks: Dabi.

*Everyone howls with laughter- Shigaraki joins and slaps the floor, accidentally disintegrating part of it

Shigaraki: Revenge has never been sweeter.

Dabi: THE HELL DID YOU DO THIS?!

Toga: Oh my gosh! You’re gonna looks so pretty! *Pulls out knife*

Twice: Aww c’mon. > IGNORE HIS PLACEMENT AND STAB HIM!

Toga: ESPECIALLY AFTER I STAB YOU!

Dabi: *Holds up cross- Hisses* Get away from me psycho-

Hawks: *Ignores the chaos beginning*

Hawks: As the step sisters we have Toga and Spinner, Mr compress is stage hand 1

[10 minutes later]

Hawks: Alright- *Looks up* Is everyone ready?

Dabi: NO! I will cremate you, you little- *Is using flames as defence against Toga*

Toga: *Giggling as she dodges* This is fun!!!

Twice: *Cheerleading* Stay alive Dabi!!! > Get im’ Toga!

Shigaraki: This is stupid.

Spinner: 60 bucks if Toga doesn’t stab Dabi in the next 10 minutes?

Shigaraki: Hell yeah- I’m in. I bet he does.

Mr Compress: I place a bet of 70 that Hawks stops them-

Shigaraki: Higher, old man.

Mr Compress: 100 dollars- If I’m right you both pay up?

Shigaraki: Better.

Spinner: Deal!

Hawks: Alright- You guy’s continue your bet and I’ll go get costumes!

Dabi: *Dabi runs past- His arms bleeding and Toga is slipping after him* Holy *Bleep* she stabbed me in the arm!

Toga: STABBY STAB STAB!!!

Shigaraki: Haha! Pay up morons-

Hawks: What measurements are you? I need to know for your costume.

Shigaraki: Guess chickenman-

Hawks: Says the future fairy godmother.

Shigaraki: *Taking coins from Spinner and Compress* At least I’m going to be a rich godmother!

Dabi: What the hell?!

#Take 1- Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo

Hawks: Alright- Everyone In positions! Handyman, you’ll run in when Dabi dramatically throws himself on to the nearest object and sobs about his problems!

Shigaraki: *Is in the fairy godmother costume- Bow and all. His hands are still on his body and face*

Shigaraki: Are you aware that after this I’m going to throw you off a cliff Lion King style?

Hawks: Ha- I can fly~ *Spreads out wings, Dabi whistles and Toga seems to be taking notes*

Shigaraki: Then I’ll throw you into the nearest meat grinder.

Spinner: Woah- Is there a need to do that?!

Twice: *Dressed as the prince but still wearing his mask*

Twice: THERE IS ALWAYS A NEED MY PRISTINE SCALY FRIEND- EVEN IF ITS HIDDEN IN THE DARKNESS OF THE NIGHT AND THE SHINING EBONY OF THE STARS! > There’s always a reason idiot.

Dabi: Ugh- Why are you talking like that?

Twice: Whatever do you mean my fair Cinderella? > Cinderella? More like lady cremation hehe < I talk as a prince of my standard should- My vocal presentation should be as strong as a dragon and as smooth as honey! Now come, take my hand! > Don’t do that- I don’t even want to do this.

Dabi: What. The. Hell. I refuse.

Mr Compress: Fabulous language my friend- Keep up the act! *Bows- Hawks claps*

Hawks: Alright, Cinderella - or lady cremation- Go get into the dress.

Dabi: No.

Shigaraki: I’m in this damn cloak, get into your dress.

Dabi: I refuse- *Toga runs in*

Toga: YEET! *Throws destroyed hot pink dress at him- Runs up to Hawks, high fives him and runs behind Twice*

Hawks: Fine- Take of your shirt and put that on. *Toga pulls out notebook, writes notes*

Dabi: The heck- No! *Picks it up* This isn’t even a proper shirt! *Throws it at Twice who catches it*

Hawks: Do it or Twice will clone Toga and leave you in a room with 10 of her. Doors locked, no escape.

Dabi: *Looks angrily at dress then Toga several times- sighs*

Dabi: Fine. Give me the *bleep* dress. *Snatches it from Twice- Storms off into other room*

Hawks: Alright- Here’s a pouch full of glitter and a wand~ *Passes both to Shigaraki- The wand is a stick*

Hawks: Wave your wand, do the lines we practiced and glitter bomb Dabi. Then Spinner will fix his outfit to the gown. Everyone ready?

Dabi: *Storms in- Is in shredded pink dress* Why the hell did you spend money on this?!

Toga: He didn’t- I stabbed it for him!

Hawks: Normally I waste my money on sparkly jewellery- This is way better!

Dabi: Wait what-

Shigaraki: Back on track hot topic and chickenman- I don’t want to be here all day.

Hawks: Right! IN POSITIONS!

(Five minutes later- A rock had been put on top of fake lawn and a forest backdrop had been hung on the wall. A spinner clone was hanging from the roof by string and holding a flashlight which was being used as a spotlight- All the lights were turned on. Dabi was standing near the rock and to the side out of the set was Shigaraki and a Spinner holding a large gown and clear flip flops- The conversation for those?

Hawks: Sorry, I could only find these- Can you make special and unique footwear for Dabi out of these?

Shigaraki: What do you want me to do? Throw glitter on them?

Hawks: Sounds good- Do Whatever you want.

Hawks and the rest of the league were sitting on crates)

Hawks: And action~

Dabi: *Deadpan* Oh dear my dress, my life is ruined just like it, I’ll never get my *bleep* happy ending, life isn’t fair- *Puts hand on head and throws self on rock* Sob sob sad noises whatever- My life is terrible-

*Glitter explosion, Shigaraki walks in*

Shigaraki: Stop Crying and get over it- I can get you to the ball.

Dabi: My is that- Who are you oh ugly mystical lady.

Shigaraki: Your damn fairy godmother- *Swishes wand- His face is blank and he looks dead inside* Now get up. Blah blah blah- pumpkins, horses and yadda yadda~

Hawks: *Gestures to Toga who starts playing music- gestures to Shigaraki who Inhales, growling*

Shigaraki: Stupid chicken- *inhales again* Salagadoola mechicka boola- Bibbidi-bobbidi-boo- (Proceeds to walk around Dabi and swish his wand, performing the song Bibbidi-bobbidi-boo- finishes*

Dabi: *Trying not to laugh as Shigaraki flips him off, hitting in the head with a wand*

Shigaraki: Bibbidi-bobbidi-boo. *Throws glitter on Dabi and waved his hand* Magic happiness and cringe- Be back before midnight blah blah blah or else.

Dabi: Hey- *Is somehow in Cinderella ball gown with flip flops on- Two of Shigaraki’s hands are on each shoe- they’re his wrist ones. Looks like there were no glass slippers available*

Dabi: THE *bleep*?!

Shigaraki: Manners you ungrateful brat- *Hits Dabi with wand again- the rest of the league are trying not to laugh* What do you think?

Dabi: You’re suppose to be hitting less and rhyming more- *Is hit with wand again*

Shigaraki: Shut up, I do what I want. Now go- Be free. Preferably hit as many pedestrians on you’re way there- *Shoves a confused and outraged Dabi off set*

Shigaraki: *Walks to the centre of the stage- bows and throws glitter. Runs off*

Everyone: Silence.

Hawks: Oh my gosh. I can’t believe I actually got to witness that- *Bursts out laughing along with everyone else. Dabi and Shigaraki start growling at each other- It isn’t that intimidating due to their fabulous outfits*

Mr Compress: Now, now, time for the next scene!

#Take 2- Its midnight!

Hawks: Annnd action! *Crates have been stacked like stairs and a carpet has been stuck over them- a platform is at the top and Dabi is with Twice. Dabi is fidgeting angrily in his dress*

Toga: *Whispers* Stab him- stab him-

Twice: Come on Dabi- Just leap into my arms and dance! > Don’t- I can’t be seen with you like that~

Dabi: I got into the dress, am wearing dead people and am now being forced to re-enact one of the most annoying scenes of all time.

Twice: Like this- *Attempts to Grabs Dabi’s hand- He jumps out of the way and points angrily, picking up dress*

Dabi: *Bleep* NO.

Twice: Here, if you can’t dance I’ll guide you- *Dabi set hands on fire growls and crouches gremlin style*

Twice: Jesus- > We’re going to get killed by the mogwai over here! < I KNOW! I’ll just clone you Dabi and show that clone what we’re doing! Now prepare yourself my fair lady cremation, for I shall show you my love! > KILL ME NOW. *Makes Dabi clone- It’s just a normal Dabi, not a Cinderella Dabi. They look confused*

Clone Dabi: What the hell? Aren’t we suppose to be at the-

Twice: Shhh my precious Dabi- *Puts a finger over his lip, gestures to the stairs* We’re Disney now! > Run. *True Dabi watches near the edge of the balcony, observing*

Clone Dabi: What’s happening? And don’t touch me-

[TBC...]

#spinner #mr compress #dabi #hawks #twice #toga #shigaraki #leauge of villians #leauge of disney villains #bnha #mha #baku no hero academia #my hero academia #lov #tomura shigaraki #disney villains

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